apply directly to the forehead

where you can find me...

2011-09-20T10:28:00.001-06:00

yeeaahbaby.tumblr.com

my new blog. about my new life.

bigger (belly) and better things.

2011-06-24T08:00:00.009-06:00

This is the official end of the line for this blog. It's been good to me... A place for me to vent my frustrations, a place to laugh at the bizarre surprises in life, a place to share, a place to celebrate my city and my voice.

In my life, I've been on many adventures. Some of them have been shared here. Some have inspired me, some have made me cry or laugh or some combination of those two things, some have given me immense hope and some have profoundly changed me with the pain of loss, letting go and growing up. And now it's time for me to concern myself with the experiences of another little person. A tiny little guy or gal who lovingly reminds me every day of his or her presence in my belly with scissor kicks and combination punches.

This little being will make his or her debut in December and life as I have known it for 30 years will be changed forever. In the blink of an eye, I will fall in love unconditionally and I will forever be concerned with someone else's heartaches, growing pains, successes and triumphs other than my own. My life will be about someone else. Their tears will be my own. Watching him or her grow and succeed will be a window to another life seen through my own eyes.

I've never been so excited or overjoyed or in love. And I couldn't ask for a better person to share this journey with. Kirk has been so patient with me, even during my crazy hormonal mood swings when every smell in the world makes me want to start punching people, my odd tendency to burst into tears while watching cute animal videos on youtube and my requests for late-night drives to satisfy weird food cravings. We're having so much fun planning where the baby's things will go and how we can rearrange our home to make more space for toys, playpens and our baby hammock. I can't wait to hang miniature clothes in the closet.

Maybe I'll start a new blog. I'm not sure. But I know that this chapter is complete. And I can't wait for all the fun things that are right around the corner. I've never looked forward to winter before but right now it feels like December can't come soon enough.

Thank you to all my loyal readers. xoxo.

P.S. Definitely need these baby shoes:

apparently justice isn't blind.

2011-03-11T10:06:00.004-06:00

I don’t make a habit of following celebrity news because I really could care less. However, once in awhile something catches my attention. In this case, my concerned thought process was triggered by the headline, so graciously provided to me by yahoo upon signing into my email account, that Ja Rule was sentenced to two years in prison for having a loaded semi-automatic weapon in his car that was booked by the popo during a traffic stop in New York. Same thing happened to T.I. in Los Angeles when drugs and weapons were found in his car after he was pulled over. Maybe it’s just me but I feel like I’d pay a lot more attention to driving properly if I had weapons and/or drugs stashed under my passenger seat. But, then again, I’m not a black male driving a nice car. Surely they get pulled over for just about any excuse a cop can cook up.

So, there is a clear history of rappers serving jail time. I can think of at least ten off the top of my head from the past two years alone. And not for 23 days or whatever weak sentence Paris Hilton served. I’m talking real jail time. In a penitentiary. With hardened criminals. I’m not trying to say that some of the charges and sentences weren’t justified; C-Murder surely deserved life in prison for fatally shooting a 16 year old, for example. Hm… I bet if he had been able to see into the future, he would’ve chosen a less… astute… moniker. Dramatic foreshadowing...?

I’m just going to come right out and say it instead of dancing around the elephant in the room. Why do white celebrities get shown so much leniency in the court system when black celebrities are handcuffed and incarcerated before you can say, “Im stuck in jail, the DA's tryin' to burn me. I'd be out on bail if I had a good attorney.’ ?

It makes no sense. Lindsay Lohan has been booked for driving around high as a kite on multiple occasions. And then she breaks the conditions of her parole. Still no consequences. So why not throw in a dash of shoplifting? What’s the worst that could happen? And even if she does serve 10 days in jail she’ll be crying about the gross injustice until she’s coddled back into a false sense of importance.

Who’s going to coddle Weezy on Riker’s Island?? And who was there to soothe the jangled nerves of ODB during his four year prison term at Clinton Correctional Facility??

Ok fine… They had guns. That’s bad. But did they kill people with those guns? And who knows… Maybe the prison terms are even justified but it’s just that when I compare them to the slap-on-the-wrist policy for every white celebrity that drives around wasted, endangering the lives of others… Well, it just seems unfair. A car driven by someone who is high on percocets and alcohol is just as dangerous as a loaded weapon. What consequences will Christina Aguilera face? And how did Mel Gibson dodge an assault charge after his psychotic episodes with his ex wife?

And don’t even get me started on Charlie Sheen. The guy is the posterboy for cocaine addiction and the most popular celeb phenomenon on the internet right now. Is that the message we’re sending? Do some drugs, trash some hotel rooms, beat up some hookers and then just carry on like nothing ever happened?

Celebrities aren’t above the law. And if a heavy-handed approach is taken with hip hop artists, then a heavy-handed approach should be taken with the starlets popping pills and swerving all over the I-5.

i don't shut up, i grow up.

2010-11-21T04:23:00.005-06:00

It's funny sometimes how quickly everything changes. If someone had told me a year ago that I'd be where I am right now, I would have wondered how that could ever happen and what series of events would need to unfold to result in this outcome. So much has changed. I can barely wrap my head around it sometimes.

Does this ever stop? Is it just me? Do other people go through life on cruise control and keep things status quo so that from one year to the next things more or less remain the same? I guess it's possible that my life changes so much because I want it to; I find ways to stir everything up so that I don't feel stagnant and bored. It's like I live in a snow globe and some asshole won't put the thing down. Things barely settle before they're turned upside down again. Do I want it to be this way? Or is it just happening to me because of circumstances beyond my control?

All I can say is that I like my new priorities. I used to stay out all night, sleep the day away and wake up feeling pretty exhausted and unfulfilled. And now I make sure I'm in bed early enough to make it to the farmer's market in the morning before all the good produce is gone. Wtf. How did that happen?? I can't even pinpoint when it changed. It just did.

And now I love coming home to my apartment. No one else lives here. It's all me. I can come home and escape from the bullshit of the world and walk around in underpants and eat cake in bed. I guess I just got to a point where I felt like I was too old to have roommates. I don't need to deal with anyone else's shit. And sometimes I really just feel like being completely alone. I don't want to talk to anyone or see anyone or have anyone else walking around in my space. So I'm happy where I'm at.

But, that being said, I feel most lonely in the mornings. I wake up and do my morning rituals and I don't say anything (except maybe a good morning to Zeek) until I get to work. It's too quiet. I wish there were little kids running around and acting crazy. I wish there were morning kisses. I wish there was noise and a little bit of chaos.

I'm just ready for that, I guess. Not in any particular rush but just aware that I would like my life to move in that direction. And it is. And that's very exciting.

I think the reason why I felt like writing this is because my best girlfriend is having a baby soon and just got married this week. I stood beside her as she said her vows and I saw our entire friendship flash before my eyes. Our heartbreaks, our mistakes, our laughter, our wild nights, our incredibly real moments of honesty. And when I held her in my arms and pressed my tear-soaked face against hers, I leaned into her ear and said, "We're grown up now. And this is when shit gets really awesome." And I truly believe that. As the years pass, you come to know yourself on deeper levels. And perhaps more importantly, you stop caring what other people think. You can let go of situations and people who don't matter because there isn't enough time to worry about it. Why bother? What is there to gain from pretending anything? I'd rather focus on what makes me feel good. And that's not being selfish... It's just being self-aware. If it were an equation, it would basically look like this: Things that make me happy = worth my time. Things that make me sad = waste of time. And the goal is to eliminate the things that aren't positive because it seems like the years go by faster the older you get. I find it hard to let any negativity soak up moments of my precious time. If it does, I lose and negativity wins and I hate losing because losers lose... if that wasn't already clear.

There is still work to be done. There are things that could be improved. Isn't there always? But I don't feel like I'm taking any steps backward which should count for something. And I'm excited and hopeful about where I might be a year from today. Because if life has taught me anything, it's that you never, ever know. You can plan and guess and speculate and pay money to enter dark rooms and talk to weird old ladies that claim to know your future but sometimes life just happens. You can steer the wheel but ultimately you're just a passenger. And sometimes you need to stop and ask for directions. And sometimes you don't care which direction you're going because the destination is irrelevant. The roadtrip to get there is the fun part. Because you can pack sandwiches.

can i skip winter this year plz? thnx.

2010-10-07T04:54:00.005-06:00

I realize I haven't written anything in awhile. I'm not sure why... It surely isn't because I've had nothing to say. Because I always have something to say. I'll attribute it to being in love. That takes up a lot of my time... in the best possible way. And it also makes me less angst-y and I tend to overlook minor annoyances that I may have felt the need to blog about before.

That being said, I'm in the mood to write. I've missed it. I tried a bunch of times but everything I wrote came out too inflected with aspects of my love-induced mindset and I assume people don't want to read about that. I'm no show-off. And I won't bore people with the details... as wonderful as they may be. Also, I refuse to lose my slightly bitter outlook on things. That's my schtick. Sadly... Or luckily (?) that's what fuels my creative process. I don't question it. I just live it.

For the O.G. followers of my blog: You must already know that Fall is my favourite season. And for the newcomers and casual/part-time dropper-inners... Well, I just said it. The only thing that bothers me about Fall is that snow and bitterly cold temperatures are right around the corner.

In the midst of summer, it's hard to imagine spending 20 minutes every morning bundling up and wrapping your body in layers of clothing only to have the condensation of your breath freeze your wool scarf to your wind-assaulted face. And in the depths of winter, it seems impossible that you will ever be able to leave your house in shorts and flip flops, carefree and adorned with perfectly-formed beads of perspiration that slowly trickle from your neck to the curved spot between your shoulders. It is likely the only sensation that tickles pleasantly while overtly making you aware of a certain suffocation. An intoxicating one.

Fall has the perfect balance of surprisingly warm days and foreboding breezy days. It is without a doubt the best season for fashion. It's too hot in the summer to really rock a sweet outfit with accessories and layers of fabric or a fitted blazer, for example. You try to wear as little as possible without being inappropriate and everything that touches your body inevitably gets soaked with your sweat and the humidity of the thick and oppressive city air. And, if you want to be comfortable, the only shoe options are open-toe which isn't a terrible thing but it rules out knee-high leather boots which look killer with a dress or over your fav pair of jeans. And speaking of jeans... They're pretty much out of the question when the temperature is anywhere above 25c. For me, at least. I know some guys who refuse to wear shorts. And I'm not talking about micro mini cut-off shorts. I mean just regular ass long shorts that are made of something other than denim so that your balls can breathe. Those anti-shorts people are like the Jehovah's Witnesses of the fashion world. How can you steadfastly adhere to that rule when it makes no sense and is misguided and out-dated and no one agrees with you? I don't get it. I'm not going to launch a full-out attack against these people but just don't show up at my door during dinnertime to spread your anti-shorts propaganda. We will have a problem.

In the winter, it doesn't matter how stylish you are. Any attempt at a cute ensemble is thwarted by the gigantic and bulky parka that you have to throw over your well-planned and meticulously chosen attire. No one can even see it to appreciate it. I guess you can equate it to getting dolled up for a night out - I'm talking half-an-hour-in-front-of-the-mirror-applying-fake-eyelashes kind of dolled up - and then your friends bail at the last minute and your efforts will forever go completely unrecognized. And, to top it off, you have to scrape that eyelash glue off your eyelids for the next 3 days with no fond memories of a night out to comfort you and convince you after-the-fact that it was all worth it. Fail. You know you looked good which is cool but it would have been cooler had you been given the chance to really work it beyond the full-length mirror in your bedroom. Might as well just be a total slob. No one will know the diff.

But Fall clothes... Don't get me started. Boots, pashminas, blazers, weekend jeans, cute wool hats, dainty leather gloves, fuzzy mittens, cozy hoodies, jean jackets, patterned tights. Oh... my... god. I just had a semi sexual experience while describing that.

And there's also something inherently comforting in it. Those gloomy, rainy days lend themselves so perfectly to staying indoors and under the covers with some tea and a special person or a special cat or a special television episode or whatever. I swear that when the air gets that first palpable chill indicating the transition of seasons and the sky swiftly changes colour when the dark autumn clouds roll in from nowhere and make everything feel so close and so small... My ass becomes a magnet for my purple jogging pants. As soon as I walk in my door at the end of the day, I whip off whatever bottoms I was confined to and back my ass straight into the fleece-lined Roots joggers that have been my security blanket for nearly two years. And then I'm officially at home.

Staying at home is good. And there's no pressure to "enjoy the nice weather" like there is in the summer. If I stay in on a summer night, I feel guilty. Because those warm days are numbered, I always feel the need to take advantage of them. And it always ends up being fun... Don't get me wrong. But sometimes it's just nice to be indoors and curled up and alone and quiet.

And when I do go out in the Fall, I have the most glorious walks. Especially in the evening when it's just getting dark. The air smells like leaves that have fallen to the wet ground. Streetlights reflect off of the crimson and marillion that hide the sidewalks in mosaics of texture and colour. The breeze makes my cheeks pink and breathing in the air stings a little but it feels so clean. It rejuvenates me... which is pretty ironic considering Fall is the time of year when everything starts to die. Maybe it's the beginning of a rebirth. Maybe that's why it feels so organic and pure. Or maybe it's because it forces you to accept the change. We're left to find the last remaining vestiges of beauty before everything suddenly becomes bare and stripped of its life and colour and vitality. So we talk about how lovely it is to see the leaves change from green to a million shades of red even though we're aware that those leaves will fall to the ground and rot and that snow will cancel all of it out with its impending and inescapable shimmery white blanket.

Having lived in this type of climate for the majority of my life, I recognize the fleeting realities that accompany it. There is no permanence and everything can change so drastically from one day to the next with little warning and seemingly for no reason. You can leave your house in a jacket in the morning and be on the beach in a bikini by the afternoon. Oh and it might rain somewhere in between those two extremes so carrying an umbrella is key.

When I lived in India or when I visited my sister in California or traveled to any of the various other countries that I've been fortunate enough to experience, I realized how different life can be based on seasons and weather. India has two seasons, for example... Hot and hot with lots of rain. The non-rainy season guarantees that you'll wake up to sunshine every single day. Not a cloud in the sky. And you can count on it being at least 36c... That's a minimum. And in the rainy season, you can count on rain every single day. Downpours, really. They don't last all day but you don't want to be caught out in one of them. An umbrella is a laughable defense against monsoon rains. Your best bet is to just let yourself get soaked because once you're fully wet, you can't get any wetter. You just deal with it.

It always amazes me that you can go to Pearson airport in January, get on a plane and get off only a few hours later in a part of the world that simply doesn't do winter. You can just run away and escape it. And you can try to describe cold and snow to people who have never experienced it firsthand but they can't really wrap their heads around it because it's so weird and unknown.

I'm going off on another tangent here but I promise it will be brief... In my first year at UofT, there was an international student from Karachi in my residence. By mid-September, he was rocking a head-to-toe snowsuit with several layers of clothing underneath and a full-on balaclava. I was like, "Guy... You might want to climatize yourself slightly because this shit is about to get so much worse that your mind will be blown." He didn’t believe me until it happened. And I think he spent most of January wrapped around the space heater that I gave him as a Christmas gift. I felt his pain. I fucking hate the cold but at least I know what to expect and have been dealing with it for most of my life. Imagine coming here from another country and being like, “Yay! I get to see snow for the first time!” and then being like, “Fuck. Why does the weather that brings snow hurt my fucking skin so goddamn much?? “

Yes. It seems unfair.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that I wish Fall lasted longer and that Winter started on December 1st and ended promptly on January 15th and then Spring could take over and then Summer could start in April and last til September. That would be perfect. Because I don’t think I’d really want to live in a homogenous climate where there’s little or no variety. I enjoy the changing of the seasons… I just wish I had some pull as to when shit started and ended. And it’s such a burn because every year it’s different. September can be scorching hot or non-stop rain and single digit temperatures. You never know. I stopped checking the weather a long time ago. Those meteorologists or whatever they’re called should get canned. We don’t benefit from them. Useless. Needs to go. If I want to know the weather, I stick my fucking head out the window. That’s the only reliable system. And it’s a task that has to be performed frequently because sunshine at 8am can turn to torrential downpour, sleet, snow, hurricane or gale-force winds within a matter of hours.

But for now I will enjoy this season and live in denial about the fact that Toronto ever gets unbearably cold. For now, I don’t believe that. Because I can’t. And I’m having fun rediscovering my Fall clothes… They’re like old friends that I lost touch with for awhile. I’m like, “Heyyyy wool sweater! I missed you, man. What’s good? We have lots to catch up on. Can I just wear you for a minute? I just want to see what it feels like. It’ll be like old times.” And I took my knee-high brown leather boots to the guy who does my shoes so that he could polish them up and now they look like when I first met them. It was a pretty emotional reunion. I’m not ashamed to admit that I took a few minutes to just sit and admire them and reflect on the places we’ve gone together. It’s been a journey…

So I’m ready for Fall. Which is good. But I will never be ready for Winter. No matter how much I plan for it, that shit always catches me off-guard. I can’t win that battle. At least I know that. At least I accept my failure on some level. Isn’t acceptance one of the stages of grieving? Yeah so I’m already on that stage. I wish I could go in reverse so that anger would come next because I think it’d make me feel better to have a meltdown when the temp dips below zero… Or just to lash out irrationally because of it. Misdirected rage is so therapeutic.

these are the people in your neighbourhood.

2010-07-10T06:38:00.000-06:00

So I've been living at Jarvis and Carlton for nearly a year now. I think anyone who knows anything about downtown Toronto is aware that there is a noticeable prostitute presence in this neighbourhood that is bordered by Sherbourne, Carlton, Church and Richmond. So basically I'm right at the epicenter of the hooker haven. I don't mind. They don't bother me. I'd rather have prostitutes than crackheads because crackheads are unpredictable. They're like pigeons. They all gather around one spot and you're walking past and you're never sure which way they're going to go or if they're going to stay where they are or if they're going to go totally postal and start flapping their wings for absolutely no reason at all. I don't like that element of surprise. Too many variables.

I've passed by the prosties a million times on my way home at night and never really gave it too much thought. I've lived in downtown Toronto for 10 years so you can't blame me for being a bit jaded. I've seen some shit. It's hard to shock me at this point. Just last week I saw a homeless guy getting tasered by police and I just kind of stepped over his convulsing body. All I wanted was to get some shit at the store and mind my own business. I have things to do. People who stand around and stare when stuff like that happens are tourists. Torontonians just continue on with their business. I mean, really... If we miss this particular tasing there will probably be another one to see (or step over) next week. No biggie. And if we stopped and stared anytime something messed up happened, the city would basically shut down because no one would get anything done.

It makes me think of the first (and certainly not last) time I got flashed and how my reactions to things have changed so dramatically since then. First year at U of T. I was walking home from class on campus at around 10pm and there was a dude jogging. When he got near enough to me he just took it out... of his tiny, circa 1970's Richard Simmons-inspired running shorts which didn't leave much to the imagination to begin with. I started to cry and then I started yelling at him and a bunch of people turned around to look for a second and then promptly lost interest and kept walking. I was wondering why no one else thought it was a big deal. I was devastated and sobbing and I felt like I had been wronged on so many levels. The second time it happened was kinda gross so I won't go into too much detail. It is sufficient to say that the dude was sitting on the steps of KFC with his pants down around his ankles. I was sicked out... understandably... but I didn't cry. By the third time it happened (on the subway), I laughed. Not the reaction the guy was going for. But he tucked it back in as quickly as he pulled it out. And that was definitely the reaction I was going for. Win!

Downtown streets are a veritable cocktail of creeps, addicts, thugs and people who just happen to be down on their luck. But after having traveled to some of the places I've traveled to, I find it exceedingly difficult to feel sorry for anyone here who asks me for change. Granted, our system is far from perfect but at least there is a system. There is help if you want it. There are options. In some countries I've been to, I've seen 4 year old children with their infant brother or sister strapped to their back by pieces of cloth, begging and pleading to please have some milk to drink. Even if it's only enough for the baby. And it's 36c and they don't have any shoes and their faces are smeared with dirt from rummaging through garbage in the hopes of finding something admissibly edible to put in their empty bellies.

And then there's Toronto... One of my friends told me a story: It was one of those nearly unbearable hot summer days and she noticed a homeless guy sitting on the sidewalk looking pretty weak and feeble. So she went into a store and bought him a bottle of water. When she gave it to him, he said, "Can you get me a Pepsi instead?" Umm... seriously? Guess he missed the whole 'beggars can't be choosers' memo.

I'm not saying it's easy to change your life and get off the streets or kick drug addictions or battle mental health issues. These are not simple undertakings by any definition. But you can reach out and find resources and people will help you. FOR FREE. Which is something so amazing about this country that I can't even put it into words. We all take that for granted. All of the time. Imagine breaking your leg in a drunken waterslide incident or parking lot dance-off or something comparable and being asked to pay when you get to the emergency room. Oh yeah... and you happen to be in excruciating pain. And you're already buried under student loan payments, etc. so you're asking yourself how you'll ever afford to fix your leg. To fix your leg. I mean... c'mon. Legs are pretty instrumental for walking and whatnot. You can't just rig up a homemade cast with popsicle sticks.

Or, on a more serious tip... Imagine you were diagnosed with cancer and had to sell everything you owned to pay for treatment and your kids couldn't go to college because you had to use that money too. Just think about that for a second. Because it happens in the USofA everyfuckingday. What a disgrace. One of the wealthiest countries in the world and one of the most morally bankrupt.

Back to my point. What was I initially intending to write about? Oh yeah... Hookers. Like I said, they're a dime a dozen (eww... bad choice of words) in my part of town. And for the very first time the other night, I heard one actually solicit a group of guys in a car. It was disturbing. I don't know how else to describe it. I was very, very sad afterwards. I guess I never really thought about how street prostitutes go about doing their business. Why would I? But hearing her marketing pitch to these drooling, drunken frat boys on their way home from some generic club really made me realize how real it is. People do this. This is how they live. The dudes weren't in the market for a hooker. They were looking for a burrito place. Ha. But they chatted her up for a bit and were basically making fun of her and having a nice laugh at her expense. As if she needed the extra blow to the self esteem. She was alright looking, especially by street hooker standards. No missing teeth, no black eyes and no track marks on her arms. She must be new. I was just riding my bike past when I saw this go down but it got me thinking and now I have a lot of questions and I want to know the answers but I don't know who to ask. Hookers, I guess. But I'm not planning on adding 'chatting up prostitutes' to my list of fav pastimes.

I guess I just want to know what kind of people get hookers. Escorts are different. That's like a business transaction. And I think it's mostly for lonely, wealthy men who could never get a gorgeous woman because they have zero people skills or they're just too lazy or absorbed in their career and 'making it to the top' of whatever structure they've built in their mind.

My point is that escorts are different than street prosties... marginally. They're the same fundamentally, I suppose, but the details are taken care of in very disparate ways. I'm not saying escorts are any better. Sex for money is sex for money any way you want to look at it. There's no getting around that.

But I think it's the way street prostitutes get customers that really makes me feel sad. They have to hustle and act super interested and turned on and into it. I mean... Are they into it? If not, there should be a talent agent out there on the corner scouting them for auditions. Because it's quite an act they have to perform. Or maybe most of them are so high or fucked up on whatever that they don't even care anymore. Or they've been doing it for so long that it's just... what they do. Everyone's 'normal' is different. I get that. But how do you end up at that version of normal? Even if I was destitute without a penny to my name I could never...EVER... do what they do. I would rather make 5 dollars an hour participating in weird medical research. Like existing on a diet comprised exclusively of foods with red pigment for 3 months. (I actually know a girl who did that. Although she got paid more then 5 dollars an hour. She ate a lot of ketchup.)

So how can they do it? What made my boundaries so different from theirs? How do they get past the fact that gross strangers are allowed to do whatever they want with them for the right price? I don't understand. Is it drug addictions? Does that mean every prostitute is an addict? Or are there some who just find it to be the easiest or quickest way to make money? Can any woman possibly respect herself so little as to choose that lifestyle out of... convenience? I can't even believe that's possible.

And what kind of people make up their client base? I'm super curious about that. Is it creepy weirdos? It must be. I can't imagine a regular guy cruising for hookers. Even if you're not the best looking guy you can surely find someone. Someone who isn't a prostitute. How could you even get with a chick who probably just did it with some other dude... or several other dudes? Wouldn't you feel gross about it? I mean... wouldn't any sane person rather go to a bar and pick up some chick who has a job other than hooking and giving BJs in parking lots for twenty bucks? And street prosties aren't even hotter then regular girls so it's not even like you're getting something looks-wise that you could never attain without paying for it. Surely it can't be so impossible to meet someone that your only option is to hit up Jarvis and Carlton at 3am to troll for hooks. Or maybe it is. I'm a chick and it's just so easy for us but I'm not sure if it works the same way for dudes. Any reasonably attractive girl can leave any club on any given night with a guy. Likely a very lame guy but a guy nonetheless. Girls can basically just point at the one they want and it's a done deal. It's messed up and I hate that it's like that but I don't make the rules... I just write about them.

So maybe my questions about hooks will have to go unanswered. Or maybe I should really put my heart and soul into researching it and then write a book about it. Or make a documentary. Or both. It's certainly not a boring topic and anyone who isn't directly involved in it can't possibly know that much about it. Unless you live in a country where it's legal because then it isn't so shrouded in mystery. I could go on for days about prostitution in the countries I've been to. Ladyboys in South Asia and brothels in Central America and weird sex shows in Paris. And don't even get me started on Amsterdam. It'd be interesting to look at how it's done in various parts of the world and try to figure out why and how it came to be. Is there a documentary about this already? Because if there isn't, I'm copyrighting this idea today.

But I guess the real question is... Am I ready to have my questions answered? It certainly won't be like asking grandma how much flour to use in a cupcake recipe. Unless your grandma happens to be shockingly obscene...

don't f*%# with my sea turtles.

2010-06-14T13:07:00.000-06:00

I care about the Deepwater Horizon oil spill for many, many reasons. I care that BP seems to be more concerned with redirecting the oil to a rig than in blocking the leak. I care that they are using a hazardous chemical to disperse the oil when there are much safer and more effective dispersants that don't contain propylene glycol and 2-butoxyethanol which, incidentally, were identified as causal agents in the illnesses reported by clean-up workers after the Exxon Valdez spill in 1989. But BP conveniently has ties with Nalco, the manufacturer of Corexit EC9500A and EC9527A which were the poisons of choice for what we can only assume were financial and corporate partnership reasons.

But the real punch-in-the-stomach moment for me was when I read that over 300 sea turtles have been found dead in the spill region and that, depending on the spread which is largely dependent upon weather conditions, the already critically endangered Loggerhead sea turtle on the Carolina shores could be put at risk. And I'm not even going to get into the thousands of birds that have been killed or the 38 dolphins and countless other species that will be affected by this for decades to come. Needless to say it is all incredibly heartbreaking.

As many of you know, I recently spent some time and a lot of effort on the shores of Costa Rica and Nicaragua trying to do my small part to protect sea turtles from extinction. These gentle giants truly are a sight to behold and I don't know if there's much in my life that can top watching the tiny babies hatch and carrying them safely to the ocean to begin their journey. And these conservation efforts exist because the population of sea turtles has been reduced so drastically in the last 50 years due to poaching, coastal development for tourism and housing, with pollution topping the list of culprits.

So because I cried when I read the facts pertaining to the BP oil spill out of frustration, desperation and anger, I've decided to raise money for the National Wildlife Federation Gulf Oil Spill Restoration Fund. Stay tuned for details but if anyone wants to help in any way, it would be so very much appreciated. Please let me know if you'd like to buy some 50/50 tickets ($2 each or 3 for $5) or if you'd like to make (or buy and subsequently eat) anything for my bake sale on June 30th. Email me for details or if there's any other way you'd like to help: jodichristie@yahoo.ca

I hope my fundraising efforts will be very successful and I'll be sure to let everyone know how much money I'll be sending along to the National Wildlife Federation. Thanks in advance for your support.

Here's a little guy that got rescued!!! Let's make sure more of this happens. :)

unfortunately, i only have one ticket to paradise.

2010-04-23T23:29:00.000-06:00

I wrote this while I was away. Sitting in a hammock and taking some much-needed quiet time to reflect on some things and just watch people. And this is what I wrote:

I'm not shocked by the amount of people I've encountered here who have left a world of things behind them to travel on their own. A real estate agent from NY, a surf and diving instructor from Australia, a semi-professional drunk from France (who really should consider going pro), a nurse from Vancouver and a songwriter from Vermont. Worlds apart we come together and share things. Not just things but experiences. And ideas.

All of us utterly genuine, utterly sincere and utterly possessed by the desire to see and do and participate. It's a group of people who have been touched by a vision; Undefined in actuality and that's how it should stay. Dissecting it strips layers of its importance away. It seems like this is a veritable cocktail of people who have experienced isolation at one time or another and appropriated those emotions in their own way rather then fearing them. They embrace them. But the frustration is still there to do more and see more and be known. To exist.

If we're linked by common blood, flesh and passions, we are separated by experience and language. We are a crazed herd thrashing about in the wilderness. All of us. No one truly knows where to go.

All I know is that, from time to time, someone comes undone. Unraveled. Awakened. And they know the great secret that will tranquilize their soul and cause the world to spontaneously combust because it simply can't contain that much happiness.

sol y la felicidad.

2010-04-15T21:39:00.000-06:00

A brief synopsis of what I´ve done. So far.

I´ve explored San José. Made friends with some Latino thugs. We had ice cream together. I got drunk in a swimming pool with some fellow Torontonian wanderers, an Aussie scuba instructor, a British postman and a French alcoholic. I dipped my feet in the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans. I followed a monkey into the jungle and got lost and found my way back thanks to the compass app on my iPod Touch... Shout out to Apple. I saw a 4 foot long croc that scared the shit outta me and I thought nothing could top that until I was 6 feet away from 6 crocs that were at least 6 feet long.

I petted a sloth. The sloth petted me back. I visited a banana plantation. I held a beetle in my hand that was nearly twice the size of my palm. I dug in the burning hot sand on the Caribbean coast for turtle eggs and made sure that ten baby sea turtles successfully made their preliminary journey into the ocean. It made me cry a little. Not even gonna lie about that.

I survived a terrifying truck ride through the cloud forest at night. It was impossible to see more than 2 feet in front of us and we were winding around corners and barely hugging the curves of the road. For all I knew, we were 2 seconds away from plummeting to the bottom of the valley below and having monkeys play marbles with our eyeballs that they had plucked from our dead faces, frozen in expressions of horror and regret.

I went to a casino/brothel and more than quadrupled my money. Then I spent it all on a box of Cohibas. I met two old hippy/surfer dudes with long, silver ponytails at Jaco beach who had come for a week long visit back in the 70s and just never left. I was scared to death of howler monkeys when they woke me up with their ghastly shrieks at 4am until I saw one and realized I could for sure kick the shit out of it. No wonder they´re so loud. Napoleon complex expemplified. What a bunch of losers.

I crossed the border into Nicaragua. I stumbled upon a spider that was the size of my face. I should have been scared but I was just... Mesmerized. Perhaps that´s exactly what the spider wants...

I´ve been terrified, I´ve been elated, I´ve been homesick, I´ve never wanted to come home, I´ve laughed, cried, asked questions, breathed, lived, cringed and embraced.

And what´s next? Well tomorrow I´m climbing a volcano and chilling in its mineral-rich hot springs. Then I´ll be sailing over the rainforest canopy via zip line. Then on to El Salvador for a day. Then back home.

And by then I´ll be ready. I miss my bed. And someone in particular. And reliable internet connections. And hot water. And bathrooms you don´t have to pay for. And Zeek and Manny.

monkey stalker.

2010-04-11T16:57:00.000-06:00

So I got here last night. I was exhausted from the flight and looking forward to putting my bags in my room and having a beer by the pool. Then this little jerk monkey comes out of nowhere and launches a nut at my head. I was like, ¨Whoa!¨ and he scurried off somewhere.

I spent all day exploring San José. Had the best taco of life. I can´t even begin to explain how good the coffee is.

In the late afternoon, I came back to my hostel, immediately switched into a bikini because of the sweltering heat and got cozied up poolside in a hammock with my book. I heard this squawking and looked up to see this creep´s beady little eyes peering out at me from some branches. I had a feeling that he was planning his next savage attack so I stared him down. And then I started to remember all these things that you´re never supposed to do to a monkey like show them your teeth. So I did it. Just to see. He showed his back. Like a sweet monkey smile. But I don´t buy it.

I´ve got my eye on this little clown.

the shortest/longest month of the year.

2010-02-25T15:01:00.000-06:00

Every year it’s the same thing. February is the same. So hard to get through, so bleak, so uninspiring. Summer seems a million years away. Because it kinda is.

But I was on the streetcar the other day watching downtown as we rolled past buildings and busy sidewalks and I happened to look up at the sky. It was like a uniform grey canvas. It almost didn’t seem real… Like someone had thrown a blanket over our atmosphere. And all the shiny buildings seemed to be cut-outs that were pasted onto this background. The edges of everything looked so defined that it was nearly surreal. We passed the Rogers Centre where I concentrated and tried to imagine the sound of a homerun. But that field won’t hear the snap of a bat sending a ball far up into the blue sky for a little while longer.

It looked like there was a storm coming, hidden somewhere behind the grey blanket. That thought was slightly ominous but also peaceful in a way. There is chaos and comfort in snow storms. It makes everything seem a little bit closer and smaller. And outside, faces peer out of fur-lined hoods. Everyone walking around in giant boots and coats. It makes it look like a playground full of school children. And inside, it’s warm and you’ve made it home. And there is nowhere else you need to be.

I found something the other day that I wrote when I was 26 years old. And we all know that was a little while ago. ;) Here it is:

"I think spring will make everything feel better and less complicated. There are so many lovely things about it. I've been aching to wear my summer clothes. And everyone will parade around in their finest… We'll watch the length of skirts get progressively shorter as the temperature climbs, tanned gams strutting in and out of shops on queen street, licking strawberry popsicles with eager, pink tongues...

The freedom of mobility. That's really what it is. Not being hindered by layers upon layers of clothing and not being afraid to leave the house because you know it's going to make your face hurt and your toes numb.

And other simple pleasures… Like watching beads of sweat form on bare, tanned and lightly freckled bellies. The stark contrast between white and dark from where your bikini bottoms end along the sides of your bum. Syrupy, waist-deep-in-water kisses at Dundas/Bathurst pool at 3am. Nights when it rains until midnight and when it stops, the whole world glistens with reflected street lights and the air feels as if it's been irreversibly gelatinized in some bizarre 9th grade science project gone awry. And on the sidewalks, people move with measured steps in languid and rhythmic unison. Sticky air. Sticky bodies. And every single thing slows down.

I wish I knew how to type a sigh… Or how to really articulate THIS feeling. I'll try... I just slumped in my chair a little, rolled my head back and to the left side slightly and took a breath so deep it made my ribcage feel tight. Do you know what that feels like?

It feels like waiting. "

new lows... or new heights of embarrassment??

2010-02-05T05:13:00.000-06:00

I get myself into some situations. In fact, people should just start calling me "The Situation". Oh wait... right... already taken. Damn Jersey Shore and the people who go there... They claim everything good. Hair gel, fake tans, drunken bar fights , horrendously failed pick-up attempts, fist pumping... The list goes on. Bunch of jerks if you wanna know what I think.

Anyhow, I'm starting to feel like everyone kinda owes me. And only because I share my humiliating stories and misadventures with everyone so they can laugh a little at my misfortune. I feel it brightens people's day because they can say, "At least that thing that happened to Jodi didn't happen to me today..."

Yes. Feel free to partake in the mockery and live unabashedly through my poor decisions and/or unfortunate encounters. You can piggy-back the absurdity and be a victim of circumstance too. How exciting.

I believe I've said this at some point in some blog somewhere... Or maybe I just thought it. Or dreamt it?? Whatever. Point is... I feel sometimes like I'm trapped in a bizarre Vaudeville stage performance with slide whistles and pies in the face and I'm the guy who keeps comically getting tossed around. Like a rag doll.

Someone please save me from the icy death-grip of Vaudeville. And preferably not with one of those long canes. Because that's a straight-up diss. Not to mention really played out.

So here are some highlights from recent times...

Last Friday, I spent an unreasonable amount of time looking for a grape that had rolled under my desk at work and apparently vanished into thin air. I am really bothered by that when it happens. But of course one of the VPs at the network happened to stop in to ask me a question about something. I was on my hands and knees under my desk. And when they asked what I was looking for I was like, "Umm... A grape." Good God. I hope the assumption wasn't that I was searching for it so that I could eat it once I tracked it down.

Then there was the time right before xmas that I decided I could cut my own bangs even though I know from waaaaay too much personal experience that this never turns out well. It didn't turn out well. I looked like I a five-year-old who had gotten a hold of some plastic Crayola scissors.

Also shortly before xmas, I bought a bag of York peppermint patties and I accidentally ate, like, 20 of them. Truthfully it was no accident. But I didn't realize how many I had eaten til I looked at the near empty bag. Fact: There is such a thing as too many York peppermint patties. And don't let anyone ever try to tell you any different.

Oh and of course there was the undergarment incident. I was headed to a sleepover after work so I had overnight things in my bag... including underthings. While pulling my wallet out of my bag to pay for my sandwich at lunch time, I inadvertently flung a pair of panties at the cashier. Who was a dude. I was gonna say they weren't mines but I thought that'd be ever weirder. He slid them toward me. I told him I was aiming for the tip jar. And we both laughed. And the sandwich was delicious, btw.

And last but surely not least are the events that took place yesterday. I had bought a blouse the day before and hadn't tried it on. I know my size so I assumed it'd fit. And I decided to wear it to work the following day. So I'm getting dressed and I get the blouse about halfway on and realize it's tight in spots. Then when it's fully on, I notice the top of the sleeves are tight and if I flexed they'd probably rip. Granted, that'd be pretty cool but I didn't want to ruin the shirt. I mean... It fit. It was just a little awkwardly made and they should've put a zip in it somewhere because I knew it was going to be a task to remove it. So I walked around trapped in the shirt all day. Got so many compliments on it but I sorta felt like Chris Farley circa fat guy in a little coat. Then in the afternoon, a pen rolled off my desk and made an ink stain on the shirt. The worst! But luckily my desk is stocked with stain removers since me dumping shit on myself accidentally is as regular as someone who really likes bran. So I had to spray it while wearing it. The stain seemed to disappear (love OxiClean!) but the OxiClean and ink had subsequently soaked through to my skin. So I was left with chemical/pen-stain belly. A very uncommon but potentially lethal affliction.

Luckily, a very patient co worker helped strip me down at the end of the day. And it wasn't really super impossible to get the shirt off. But I will never try to do it on my own. This is the kind of shirt you need help with. I have three of them, actually. All different but the same problem.

So I feel like this is probably enough for now. There are just so many it's hard to narrow it down. It's like I'm giving an acceptance speech and want to mention everything important while I have the chance... Just cue the music and we're done here.

R.I.P. Billy Mays. I know he's sending us all thumbs-up from Heaven...

correcting bad manners, one evil villain at a time.

2010-01-27T10:48:00.000-06:00

Not off to the greatest start…

This morning I waited for 17 minutes in the freezing cold in very high and uncomfortable heels for the College streetcar. When it finally came, it was too full to let anyone on. :/

So I walked to College station in my very high and uncomfortable heels. When I went down into the station, I felt a sense of relief since I was out of the cold and could simply hop on the subway and be whisked away to King station where I don’t even have to go outside to get to my office. Home-free. Right? Wrong.

Some man came walking up behind me on the subway platform (which wasn’t even that crowded, btw) and pushed his way past me. I spun around in disbelief that anyone would be pushing another person on a subway platform when the next train was about to roll into the station. It was some business dude in a suit and I kind of half expected him to apologize. He didn’t.

I had a choice: Leave it alone or totally call him out on it in front of a lot of people.

Which option do you think I chose? (I could almost make this blog post like one of those choose-your-own-adventure books… )

I called him out. Obviously. So I said, “Hey! Are you in such a hurry to get to work that you’ve been reduced to shoulder-checking small girls on subway platforms?” He didn’t say anything but he did look pretty embarrassed.

And now I feel like the super-hero of manners. Like… Maybe I should just start swooping in every time someone doesn’t hold a door open or doesn’t offer their seat to an elderly person on the subway. Now all I need is a catchy super-hero name.

Ideas?

shape-ups... or ship-outs???

2010-01-21T15:09:00.000-06:00

I would rather be a big fatso with totally flabby legs and thighs than rock a pair of these bad boys. So ugly! In fact… I might actually rather die than wear a pair of these.

I really find it strange that a product that is supposed to enhance your appearance could be so poorly designed and so hideous. And what are the odds that they work?

I hate quick-fix solutions for lazy people. If you want your body to be in good shape, you need to eat properly and exercise. There’s no magic cure and no ugly pair of shoes that can fix that.

And can you just turn your attention to the very scientific diagram below? So not only are you wearing ugly shoes but you’re also doing a bunch of humiliating maneouvers in public like the “Roll and Rock and Roll” which is somehow different from the “Rock and Roll”.

The idiocy of this just blew my mind.

pudding: don't call it a comeback.

2010-01-07T12:32:00.001-06:00

The first week of 2010 has pretty much come and gone. And I'm happy to report that I'm super pleased with everything so far. I've been having really good hair days for some reason. And I've been to the gym every day or doing pilates or yoga... Sometimes twice a day. So I feel good. And I've been having fun, more importantly.

Last night I had some of the best chicken wings of life.

This morning I woke up in the giant arms of someone amazing. I could have stayed in that bed for hours with the coolness of the sheets against my bare legs. Drifting in and out of sleep and having him beside me every time I reached out my hand under the covers or opened my eyes.

It gets harder to leave him every time.

I'm tired today. But I know I can go directly home after work and get directly in my swimming pool and float around til I get hungry enough to make dinner. I might hit the sauna. Or I might just get wrapped up tight in blankets like a baby's swaddling clothes and cocoon on the couch til I can't keep my eyes open anymore.

I don't know what the point of this post was supposed to be. I guess I'm just saying that I'm going to do whatever I can to make this my year. I want to be happy and surrounded by people who love me and who let me love them back.

And I want 365 days of good hair. Surprisingly, this seems like a much more unrealistic goal than the former.

There have, sadly, been two things that have threatened the perfection of this year so far.

1) I had to stand in line at the supermarket on Sunday behind two old ladies who were trying to figure out why they go through so much toilet paper all the time.

2) I'm disappointed in everyone for not reminding me how delicious pudding is. I had some two days ago and I was like "Why have I not been eating this every day?!" It was pudding so good even Bill Cosby would endorse it. Oh wait... He already did that. In any case, I've wasted enough years denying myself the pleasures of pudding. 2010 is pudding's year.

And mine. But I can share this year with pudding. As long as I get to eat the pudding after.

daggering.

2010-01-06T09:57:00.000-06:00

I was going to post this on my Facebook but then I decided I didn't want my mom to watch it. Lol. But then I was like... Maybe she won't know what daggering is... ? So it might fly. But ultimately, I decided it's just safer here.

I love this song. And video. And the message is so timely and relevant. Hahaha. It's one of those tracks that it's really hard for me to not dance to. At least I have an office door now. So I can have a little privacy instead of alienating my coworkers and getting my ass fired. Literally it would probably be my ass that got fired since that's where all the dancing trouble would originate. And I don't want to have to start coming to work ass-less. Not good for anybody.

Here it is:

What do you think would happen if I called the number on that classy and intricately-designed daggering business card? Only one way to find out...

I'm also a fan of this song and video so watch it too:

Now if you'll excuse me, I have some potentially job-jeopardizing dancing to do.

my day.

2009-12-17T21:19:00.000-06:00

A brief synopsis:

A late lunch and cocktails at the Four Seasons hotel in Yorkville. Got asked out on a date by a married man. Went lingerie shopping. Wrote my first complete XML code without any help or looking at my text book as a reference. Fell *up* a set of stairs (subsequently defying the laws of gravity). Gave a police officer the finger. Went to my fav store of all time, Magic Pony, and saw their new toy collections and art exhibit. It was an exhibition of cat paintings where the cats were doing human-like things. Like a highschool graduation portrait except it was a cat. So me. Loved it. Saw the Olympic torch… no biggie, really. Went to a krump workshop at my dance studio. Killed my legs at the gym. Went swimming. Ate a turkey sandwich. And I swear my ass now has a homing device in it so that every time I walk into my apartment, I immediately slide myself into my sweet purple jogging pants. It’s like I’m drawn to them by a magnetic force so powerful that I’m helpless to resist. So amazing.

And so here I am. I’m in my jogging pants (obviously) but it’s deliciously hot (nearly tropical) in my apartment right now so I’m not wearing a shirt. So it’s kinda like “Comfort on the bottom; Party on the top.” Just chillin.

There are wrapped gifts under my tree now. Like all the baby clothes for my baby nephew, Simon. I got him a tiny turtle neck and a tiny bathrobe and a tiny Raps jersey. (He’s growing up in Cali and I can’t bear the thought of him turning into a Lakers fan so I’m getting a jump on the subtle persuasion.) And of course I got him a mini velour onesie since that makes up most of my own adult-sized wardrobe.

Bedtime soon. I think enough has happened that I can pretty much call it a day.

Night night.

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

(I bought some wee ninjas for my friends for xmas prezzies... cute!!!)

a song for the ages.

2009-12-11T13:05:00.000-06:00

No description necessary. It's just the best.

i'll go easy on you if you go easy on me.

2009-12-03T09:51:00.000-06:00

I woke up with this song in my head for some reason this morning. This used to be my favourite song. Last year at some point. Or was it two years ago...? Where does time go?

When I think about that time, seems like things were simpler. They likely weren't though. I think time just simplifies. And sometimes it makes things seem better than they were. Or less bad than they were. Time puts a nice gloss on everything. I guess that's what I'm trying to say. In general.

Here is a photograph that I look at often that reminds me of the summer when it was my favourite song:

And that photo was actually taken the same day that I saw Sebastien Tellier live. And someone recently sent me a link to his newest remix which I love. And I'm passing along that link to you. So here it is. You're welcome. And also this photo that was taken that same weekend. I can never get enough of this one because it's such a classic end-of-the-night photo.

I'll be listening to both of these songs today...

Likely on repeat.

The weather is perfect for it.

these are the people in your neighbourhood.

2009-11-23T23:02:00.000-06:00

This happened a little while ago but its taken me some time to think about it and put it into words. You may or may not know that I moved recently. To the east side which is more or less unchartered territory for me. So on one surprisingly warm November day, I decided I needed to explore. Both for practical reasons and curiosity.

I sat in a diner at Carlton and Sherbourne drinking a cherry coke and watching a glistening rotisserie chicken rotate methodically inside of its warm glass enclosure. It looked semi-appetizing but I concluded it had been there for awhile so its imagined tastiness was likely an illusion.

I walked east toward Cabbagetown. Gorgeous Victorian houses that used to belong to singular families and are now split up into apartments to accommodate the increase in population over the years. There's a scruffy, white-haired man on one of those motorized Rascals. And there's an equally as scruffy dog sitting on the platform of the scooter. The man has a bunch of colourful flags attached to the back of his lazy-mobile. I think he's collecting money in his tin can but I couldn't be bothered to stop and find out.

I pass a corner store selling weird toothpaste I've never seen and bottles of some fizzy orange drink called Maaza I've never heard of. I suppose there's some demand for it or it wouldn't be on display in the store window. Also in the store window: A bust of Elvis. Skipping ropes. Naked plastic dolls. Velcro shoes.

Across the street I notice a Chinese/Canadian restaurant that is closed down with brown paper covering the windows. The sign is still intact. It was called “The Flamingo” which doesn’t immediately make me think of Chinese food. Perhaps a contributing factor to their downfall...? Also, I think it’s a terrible idea to combine Chinese with North American food. I don’t think boiled hotdogs are a major part of Asian cuisine so it would likely be smarter to stick to what you know. This is an ethnically diverse city that thrives on cultural authenticity. I’m just sayin’…

I continue east toward Regent Park. It brings back a lot of memories from the after-school program I was a part of at Nelson Mandela Park public school. I met a boy there named Jonathan who I'll never forget. I wonder what he's doing now... 9 years later. But I'm getting off topic.

In the daylight hours, it’s hard to see what all the fuss is about concerning this neighbourhood. There are a few slightly haggard-looking people with some random objects laid out on a blanket on the small patch of grass in front of the housing projects. I glance briefly and it mostly looks like used pots and pans, some CDs, bizarre sculptures made out of tempered glass that may have been cool in the 80s and board games so old I’ve never heard of them. And they’re likely missing a bunch of essential pieces. But the majority of items for sale are baby strollers, baby clothes and baby accessories. This makes me feel sad for a reason I can’t put my finger on or explain.

I walk a bit further and see some thug-looking dudes leaned up against a shiny, black Cadillac. I’m feeling a little brave so I say, “What are you selling? For the yard sale…” They chuckle a little and one of them says, “What are you sellin’ Ma?” I respond, “I’m not… But if I was, you couldn’t afford it. And I asked you first.” They laugh, I wink and continue on.

Basketball courts with teenagers playing half-court pick up. Boarded up windows and some smashed glass from targetless rocks hurled into the air. Tire marks on the pavement from hotshots unnecessarily peeling away from their parking spots in some bizarre display of masculinity. Mothers hanging endless rows of colourful and damp laundry from balconies of high-rises. 13 year-old boys smoking cigarettes in front of corner stores trying their hardest to look sinister despite their skinny boy arms and obvious lack of facial hair. Baby strollers and shopping bags. Cross-walks. Hopscotch. Double Dutch. All of these things. And everyone clinging so desperately to the last rays of sun that belong to the summer.

And it’s bizarre because if I walk the same distance in the opposite direction from where I live, all you see are luxury condos, Starbucks, over-priced grocery stores and various franchises. I live at the epicenter of all this. Not to mention Boys' Town which is only a few blocks north and a completely separate blog post.

For the first time in my Toronto history, Dufferin seems far and too daunting of a task to get all the way over there.

Funny how quickly things change.

Funny how much everything changes in a few city blocks.

my facebook today.

2009-10-22T12:42:00.000-06:00

Jodi Christie This just happened... Sales Lady: "It must be difficult for you to find pants that fit because you have a size 0 waist and a size 5 bum". Me: "Sometimes but it's that very same thing that makes it not at all difficult to find men". Ba-zing.

about an hour ago · Comment · Like

Andre Simon, Wynne Leung, Jamie Scheel and 2 others like this.

Maggie McCormick

Well played!

about an hour ago · Delete

Adrien Clarke

You should've been a pin up girl.

about an hour ago · Delete

Quentin Matheson

You mean having no pants makes it easy to find men? I could see that.

about an hour ago · Delete

Jodi Christie

well... that too, i suppose. but i thought everyone was well aware of my policy on pants. they have their fun in the sun during working hours but are promptly removed upon arrival at home. no outside pants in the house!!! ask maggie... she agrees.

about an hour ago · Delete

Jodi Christie

p.s. don't you hate pants??

about an hour ago · Delete

Maggie McCormick

It's true. I officially christened Jodi 'No Pants' back in '06. And yes, pants are both cumbersome and annoying.

No Pants Day is May 2 for those who feel the same!

about an hour ago · Delete

Jodi Christie

hahahaha.. cumbersome.

about an hour ago · Delete

Kate Dickson

reading this with british eyes it is a very different thread of comments.

about an hour ago · Delete

Jodi Christie

lol.... yes i guess it would be. still pretty awesome though right?

about an hour ago · Delete

Brie Kenward

i ♥ you totally, you know that?

about an hour ago · Delete

oh geez.

2009-10-07T08:09:00.001-06:00

Checked my myspace inbox this morning. Found this gem. I have nothing clever to say about it because, really, it speaks for itself.

Dearest Jodi,

I think the Aphrodite goddess took you as a model of beauty, sensuality and passion... I am sure that many men has say it to you and that you will think that I only say it to be brilliant but, in truth, my muse, you are the most beautiful lady I have ever seen, most real, most feminine...

oh woman, you woman who awakes eros in me, you who make me finaly understand those wonderful words: WOMAN. Now in you I have known opposed sex, to the most sublime creation of God.....

I really hope you write me back so we can get to know each other, I will be waiting for your answer with great emotion even more than the one that has the beach when hoping each wave, even more than the one that has the leaves when waiting for the autumn, I will wait for you...

Kindly, Arturo

That is all. Oh... And this cat picture:

bffs.

2009-09-24T23:09:00.000-06:00

There's really no doubt about it... Lenny has taken some beats this summer. He's suffered through pot holes, speed bumps, rain, streetcar tracks and has dodged countless car doors, pedestrians and even a few dogs. I noticed today that Lenny makes a slight creaking sound now that wasn't there before. It kinda made me feel bad for subjecting him to all this madness. I felt like a bad parent who loses their kids in Wal-Mart and continues shopping because they'll surely turn up somewhere at some point. Or something.

But, that being said, today was probably my best day with Lenny so far. I got up super early, showered, threw some clothes on and ran outside. It was a little breezy but it felt refreshing on my skin. My hair was still wet and I could feel it on my back. It felt like autumn. And smelled like it too. Parents were walking children to school, inspecting backpacks to be certain that science projects and show-and-tell items hadn’t been forgotten at home. An observation: Children don’t really walk; they bounce. I couldn’t help but notice how much energy they had so early in the morning. They seemed excited about absolutely everything. Kinda like me. :) I wish everyone was like that. Or it might be super annoying. But it could possibly be super awesome.

I cruised through the streets, destination unknown. Just following whatever path interested me. It was sunny... That early morning sun that inches its way higher in the sky, its rays bursting through tree branches and around buildings like gentle fingers.

Later in the day, I took Lenny out again. This time with a purpose and destination. The mid-afternoon sun is always the hottest. My bare arms were glistening with sweat. Some dudes in a car whistled at me. I thought whistling was out like a billion years ago. I mean, I think it was maybe cool in the 50’s but I thought it had died. Evidently not. Maybe these guys are bringing it back. The way American Apparel constantly rubs the 80s in our faces. (Btw, I totally bought these tights from there a few days ago... And then wore them with gold stilettos on the back of a motorcycle. No joke.)

I normally ride fast and crazy. Probably because I pretty much always have some place I need to be. A guy behind me on a bike the other day said I should consider Nascar racing and asked if I was scared biking on a busy street like Yonge St. in rush hour traffic. I guess sometimes I am a little but I’ve been here for ten years now. I know every inch of my routes. It just feels normal to me. Sometimes they do construction and repairs to my routes but I've noticed it never really gets any better or a whole lot different. And I find that pretty weird.

My favourite time with Lenny today was nighttime on my way back from Maggie’s house. The air had gotten much cooler, the way it tends to do at the beginning of fall. I took the scenic route. Montrose. Palmerston. Euclid. I love the street lamps on these streets and how the houses are set back from the road. Front yard is the new backyard. But these houses are so old and all historical-looking and stuff (very eloquently put, I know) so I guess front yard came first. Maybe they have backyards too. Probably. One thing is for certain; they would never build such massive houses and sprawling mansions with so much yard in downtown Toronto nowadays. Space is limited and a commodity; An expensive one. It will make me really sad if these houses ever get flattened so someone can put up rows of identical and poorly-built townhouses.

I took my time getting home. And I wondered how much longer I’d have Lenny before I’d need to tuck him away for when there’s snow on the ground.

just another average, everyday morning...

2009-09-15T08:27:00.000-06:00

Some random things...

So I was riding Lenny to work this morning, listening to this song (because it's awesome):

And then some middle-aged dude in a yellow convertible cut me off and I almost died so I yelled at him. I actually said, "Hey! Take it easy there mid-life crisis!" Yeah... I called him "mid-life crisis". Mean? Sure... Yeah. True? Absolutely yes.

This guy thought he was on Pimp-My-Ride but it was really more like Pimp-My-Baldspot with some of that spray-on hair. Ew.

Gross.

so much heat.

2009-08-23T07:51:00.000-06:00

My NYC trip was amazing, as anticipated. All I really wanted to do when I was there was check the Heatmakerz studio. I had decided that if I got to do that, I'd be happy. So I got in early on Saturday morning, checked into my hotel, cranked the AC because it was absurdly hot outside, took a cold shower and started primping for later in the afternoon when Sean said he was coming to pick me up. He called when he was outside and told me to come downstairs. Sitting in front of the hotel, gleaming in the sunshine was a pretty and polished Mercedes Benz. Black with shiny chrome and tinted windows. And he was leaning up against it looking mad cool in his standard all black attire with diamonds shining from his chains and ears. *sigh* I wish that exact moment could happen all over again. He picked me up and squeezed me for a minute before handing me a bottle of Patron and a bottle of Nuvo. Starting the afternoon off right. We drove around... So fast. I was just looking out the window at everything and smiling so hard it was making my face hurt a little. Now... I'm no groupie and I'm not terribly wowed by expensive material things but I gotta say... This was so different from what I'm used to in daily life that I was pretty thrilled by it.

Oh, and we were listening to this. It felt so.... New York.

He drove me to the studio somewhere between the Bronx and Yonkers. A bunch of the guys were sitting around. It was dark with the only source of light being the glow from the studio equipment. And there was a lot of equipment. Kind of like a music spaceship.

We chilled for a minute before we went to dinner in New Rochelle. It was beautiful. Valet parking. A converted warehouse with wood floors and high ceilings and white tablecloths. The host and servers were super dressed up and fancy dudes with great hair. Haha. And so polite. And they greeted all my NY friends by name. By their last names. Like... "Good evening Mr. Thomas. Happy to see you. Please come this way." We got the best table for sure. Food, company and conversation were amazing. I'm not gonna lie... It felt pretty nice to be a part of this entourage. Everyone else in the joint was wearing suits and designer dresses and there were lots of older people... Mostly white people. Then we show up... A group of thug-looking guys and me in short shorts and stilettos looking like we had more money than anybody in the place. Ha. It felt like everyone stopped talking and their eyes followed us across the room from the entrance to our table.

Afterwards we went back to the studio and they played me some unreleased tracks that will be on their soon-to-be-released album. Everyone was just sitting and listening, heads nodding to the infectious beats. I loved all of it. A departure for them for sure. But it shows how they are adapting to developments in the industry. This is crucial and I was impressed. And the album has so much range. From newer-school club bangers to conscious lyrics and methodical flow. Versatile and innovative. They're doing big things.

I cant explain why I find myself so inspired by all of this. It's not the money and status and fancy cars that really get me. It's the creation of things that transcend time, geography, generations. Do you ever listen to music and think of where it came from? Do you imagine its origins in a studio somewhere in the Bronx or a housing project somewhere in Rexdale or an alleyway in Cassava Piece? Someone made it. Heard it in their head, said it out loud, worked on it, perfected it. That's crazy to me. And maybe the reason why hip hop and reggae specifically have such a mesmerizing impact on me is the nature of its development, proliferation and subsequent popularity. Rags to riches, real talk and struggles. It's a story. A legacy. And an emerging urban method of legitimate storytelling. So that struggles are never forgotten. So that proof exists that it is really possible to transcend environment and circumstances. That's a powerful thing.

Here's an interview on Thisis50.com and a link to download their newest mixtape :

http://thisis50.com/profiles/blogs/thisis50-interview-the

And their vid for their new project, Crash Crew :

Sean drove me back to the hotel. It was late and we were tired so we hardly talked. We just enjoyed the breeze coming in the open windows on the 87 back to Manhattan with his hand on my bare leg and one of my bare feet up on his dash. And this song was on the radio:

The rest of my trip was equally amazing. It would take too long to write about everything so I'll just say that New York, even in the midst of a heatwave, did right by me.

Oh, and one more definitely worth listening to. It's my fav:

i might be an asshole for saying this but...

2009-07-28T19:18:00.001-06:00

I'm pretty sure this new Fox series called "More To Love" is problematic and destined for suicide attempts and sold-out Krispy Kreme locations throughout the U.S.

That sounds harsh but just stay with me for a second. You might see my logic.

So, I normally don't watch any of the "reality" tv shows (especially not Fox... Maybe I shouldn't say that since I work in television and might get the shake down from thugs in business suits). But I saw a promo for this series and I was like... What the eff? It's like The Bachelor except with BBWs (bigger ladies... and the dude is pretty heavy too).

So I'm watching Hell's Kitchen on Tuesday night because Gordon Ramsey is the fucking best and, after the episode is over, I'm in the middle of painting my nails so I couldn't change the channel for fear of ruining my perfect purple paintjob. And then this show came on. More to Love. And I just cringed because I could see the heartbreak before any of them even got booted off.

The initial interviews were these heavy chicks saying things like, "I've never had a boyfriend" or "I'm special and I want someone to love me for me" or "I feel so vulnerable because I got made fun of in highschool." I see this going nowhere except in the direction of disaster. But viewers love disaster, don't they?

But it made me think... Have we gone too far in the exploitation of peoples' insecurities and weaknesses? I mean... I love me some TLC programming... The home reno shows and What Not To Wear especially. But I see promos for shows called "The Tree Man" and "The Tiniest Toddlers" and I have to ask myself... Is that a bit over-the-line? And their shows about "Little People" and families with an abnormal amount of children and whatnot... I mean, I'm happy someone is paying attention to these under-represented groups but it feels like major networks are benefiting the most off of the "freak show" quality of other peoples' lives.

And at what cost?

I find it hard to believe that anyone could be delusional enough to go on one of these matchmaking shows and truly believe that they can find love. But, there is far too much evidence to the contrary. People flock to it every season in the pursuit of love. Or are these simply fame-hungry nobodies desperate to appear on a popular television series even at the cost of their self-worth? But, crazier things have happened, I suppose, and I'm really just being a skeptic because it all seems so falsified and so unlike any "reality" I've ever experienced. Imagine being one of 30 women vying for the attention of one man. I would never even subject myself to this. I mean... I wouldn't wait around for a television series to finish filming and broadcasting for someone to make up their mind about me. I'd be like, "You wanna run around with all these other broads? Be my guest. But don't expect me to be around at the last rose ceremony." No chance.

I guess I just feel like they're setting already emotionally unstable people up for certain failure. This is NOT to say that all heavy girls are emotionally unstable. Don't get it twisted. I'm a fan of curves on ladies and I know that most grown men feel the same way. But these are girls who got picked on mercilessly in highschool and had to sit out during activities in gym class. That shit must scar you in some way. And, one second I hear them talking about how much they love themselves and then the next minute, I hear them talking about crash diets and how they desperately want to be accepted. Contradictory statements. And, I truly believe that the REAL big, beautiful women have far too much self-respect and pride to appear on a silly series that's mostly scripted and entirely humiliating. And thin, fit people are just as starved for acceptance and just as insecure as these ladies. As demonstrated by the number of women who have appeared on The Bachelor.

I won't watch the show. I have too much other shit to do and it's not worth an hour of my weekly schedule. But I will take a minute or two to read brief media synopses about what happens. Not to be cruel. Just to prove a point.

this time, i may have gone too far.

2009-07-23T21:35:00.000-06:00

So, sometimes when I'm super bored, I peruse Craigslist. Y'know... For things to buy, apartments and weirdo fetish people. So I decided to try a little experiment: I decided to respond to a few ads and just see what would happen. Well... This is what happened:

Here's the ad I responded to:

WHATS YOUR BEST ASSET - m4w - 52
Date: 2009-07-23, 9:42AM EDT
Top of Form
Reply To This Post
Bottom of Form

LETS ME EXPLOIT IT,LETS MAKE IT WORTH IT FOR BOTH OF US

From: justkidding@live.com
To: pers-ctpfj-1284571703@craigslist.org
Subject: WHATS YOUR BEST ASSET - m4w - 52
Date: Thu, 23 Jul 2009 11:03:34 -0400

Dear m4w – 52,
I believe that my best asset is my ability to throw things up in the air and catch them in my mouth. I can do this with smarties, popcorn, grapes and various other small objects. Unfortunately, I can’t do it with anything really cool like daggers or anything. But I’m working on it.

From: pers-ctpfj-1284571703@craigslist.org
Sent: July 24, 2009 9:18:47 AM
To: justkidding@live.com

if you are truly serious,i think we should meet and discuss your talentwhen is good for you ,and what part of the city do you live?

So, that was enough for me. Here's the next one:

White girl wants a black/brown girl friend (I'm straight..friend only) - w4w - 25 (downtown toronto)
Date: 2009-07-22, 11:36PM EDT
Top of Form
Reply To This Post
Bottom of Form

Hi. I would like to find a black friend in Toronto that likes r&b, hip hop anything on flow. I have always wanted to have a black friend. I am straight and would feel more comfortable around another straight female.

From: justkidding@live.com
To: pers-vr2kr-1284232525@craigslist.org
Sent: Thursday, July 23, 2009 11:13:15 AM
Subject: White girl wants a black/brown girl friend (I'm straight..friend only)

Dear w4w – 25,
Hi! I’m not black but I do fit all your other requirements. And I also know a lot of black people. I tan really well in the summer too. Just wondering if you’d consider me??

Thanks!

I didn't get a response to this one. You know what... It's her loss.
Here's the next one (and this one is the worst):

Any ladies want to trample me Underfoot? - m4w - 29 (mississauga)
Date: 2009-07-23, 6:08AM EDT
Top of Form
Reply To This Post
Bottom of Form

Hi there I am an average guy that likes females to walk on, dance jump and step on me with their feet. If this sounds like fun and you want to try it, then send me a message and we can exchange pics and meet up. take care

From: justkidding@live.com
To: pers-z8z9s-1284422820@craigslist.org
Sent: Thursday, July 23, 2009 8:25 AM
Subject: Any ladies want to trample me Underfoot? - m4w - 29 (mississauga)

How would you feel about being repeatedly kicked in the face?

From:pers-z8z9s-1284422820@craigslist.org
Sent:July 23, 2009 6:41:15 PM
To:(justkidding@live.com)
1 attachment
pic.jpg (15.0 KB)

hi there, thanks for your reply.
Well we could try some kicking, but i'm more into being stepped on. So you can stand and walk on my head and face if you wanted. i cant go home with a bruised face, hehe, buti can take a lot. you could jump and stomp on me to.
Here's a pic from last summer.
Have you ever done this sorta things before?

So, this is when things got out of hand. Lol. I know when to draw the line. And yeah, there was a picture attached to that email. Nothing weird. Just a balding middle aged guy in bermuda shorts holding a small, white, fluffy dog. It kinda made me feel sad. And I figured I had enough material to write this blog so no need to continue on with this madness. I guess I'm just not cut out to exploit people's weaknesses. Dammit.

I would've thought that maybe my email address would have given me away but apparently not. I cancelled that account in order to ensure the permanent closure of the floodgates of hell.

And then I realized that I didn't really ever have to go out of my way tp find crazy. I logged into my Myspace account the other day after a long time of not checking it. And look at this gem I found in my inbox:

From: Amgad
Date:
Jul 13, 2009 10:21 AM
Subject:
Body:

hiiiiiiiiiiiiiihow r u my freand u r so beautiful girl what about u are u marry are u singel have boy freand and how old u so do u know if u r singel iam will say for u marry me bcz ur beautiful nice girl sexy and really iam hoppy get wife beautiful like u tack care about ur selfbut really iam didnt se beautiful girl like u iam hoppy ur singel really to say for u marry me iam think if iam get marry of beautifiul woman like u iam will make she is happy all time

Yeah... I was pretty hoppy when I found this message. Mission accomplished, Amgad.

And here he is:

this week's track brought to you by stevie wonder.

2009-07-16T09:10:00.000-06:00

I have so much to update everyone on. From being chased down by a crazy motorist to chilling at a yacht club and racing sailboats to riding my bike to Bloor and Christie almost every day after the gym to satiate my enchilada addiction to drinking my very first beer (true story)... This week has been non-stop awesomeness. But let's be honest... Would you expect anything less?

But, for now, I just want to share this song with you. Because I love it so much. And it has some special significance this week but I'm not getting into that. :) And because I don't think I've blogged about Stevie before. Or maybe I have...? I can't remember. But if I haven't, this is way overdue.

the city workers who stole summer.

2009-07-10T10:08:00.000-06:00

This is my current status update on Facebook:

"Gonna go for a swim at Christie Pits this afternoon and then go lie in the grass with my girlfriends and a bottle of wine, undisturbed by bags of garbage, rats and communicable diseases. Oh wait… I can’t do any of those things."

Boo-urns. This whole thing stinks... Pun fully intended.

I was on the treadmill yesterday at the gym and I saw Mayor David Miller on CNN. I was pretty disappointed since he seemed to be minimizing the impact of this on the lives of Torontonians - Probably in a desperate attempt to save tourism. But still... I would've just been honest and explained how these workers are taking away services that should be considered essential and how our economy will inevitably suffer as a result rendering us even less likely to fulfill the union's demands. Not to mention the health concerns and cheesed-off citizens and how it's getting increasingly dangerous for me to ride my bike due to the garbage on the sides of the roads. There's no space between the cars and the curbs anymore. I can't ride over glass bottles and styrofoam containers and banana peels (although this could admittedly be quite comical). So while I'm doing my part to save the environment, someone else is doing their part to fuck it up. Nice.

Now is not the time to be making unreasonable demands. And thanks for timing it with summer so that kids don't even have their summer camps and programs to go to. Mayor Miller did bring up one good point yesterday; He said that it's unfair to lower-income families who now have to pay for private daycare or babysitters because there are no day programs for their children. This is so true.

Public parks should be off limits for garbage dumping. This is just like pouring salt in the wounds of Toronto. Children run around here. Basketball games are played here. Community gardens are planted here. It's so unreasonable.

And the thing that blows my mind the most is that, when the garbage strike is over, these idiots are just going to have to clean up the mess they left behind. And weeks of garbage build-up in the middle of summer is probably not the funnest thing to deal with. I hope it really stinks.

As if all this weren't bad enough, we now top the list of travel advisories. Your damage control can't help you now, Mayor Miller. We beat out bubonic plague in Libya, tourist extortion in Latvia and attacks by youths throwing rocks at tour buses in Northern Ireland. Sweet! Take that other countries! We're shittier than you! Oh wait... That's not a good thing, is it? Damn. :( This seems kind of extreme... I mean.. bubonic plague is kinda messed up. But, in terms of tourism, it doesn't really matter what's worse. What matters is public opinion. And we're at the bottom of the barrel on that one. On CNN, they did a split screen showing Mayor Miller talking and images of garbage pile-up on the other side. So it looked even more ridiculous that he was minimizing the impact of it all when you could clearly see what's become of the dump sites. Oopsies.

*sigh*

http://cnews.canoe.ca/CNEWS/Canada/2009/07/09/10081251.html

b-more.

2009-07-06T11:28:00.000-06:00

This is why we should all move to Baltimore. This sound is so amazing. And don’t even get me started on the hand claps.

So this is a remix of The Clipse who came out of Virginia Beach in 1992. With the help of The Neptunes, they secured their first recording contract in 1997. Their newest album is slated for release in September of this year and will feature production from Timbaland, Danjahandz, Diddy, Kanye and Rick Rubin.

It’s not just Tittsworth’s skills that make his beats great. It’s also the tracks he chooses to work with. Everything from MOP’s Ante Up to The Cars, Milli Vanilli, Jackson 5, The Ramones, The Commodores, Ying Yang Twins, Bel Biv DeVoe and P.M. Dawn. On his recently released album “12 Steps”, he also produced some really unique collaborations with Kid Sister, Nina Sky and hyphy heavy-hitters The Federation.

Yeah… luv this B-More sound. This booty-booty-club-disco sound that’s so dirty and infectious. And I mean that in the best possible way. The dress code for this music is sex and booze and sweat. That’s all.

Listen to these and then check his mix “The John McCain Experience”. It’s bomb too. Oh and his tweets on Twitter are pretty funny. Even though Twitter sucks and you shouldn’t use it.

The Clipse - when the last time (tittsworth baltimore bmore b-more club remix)

M.O.P. - Ante Up (Tittsworth Remix)

http://www.baltimore-club.com/uncategorized/tittsworth-the-john-mccain-experience/

(here's a treat: if you click on the picture it'll take you to his twitter page. whoa.)

you rock my world.

2009-06-26T08:19:00.000-06:00

Impossible to describe how much he impacted music, dance, and pop culture. Impossible to sum up the tragic nature of his existence and his ability to surmount abuse, accusations and the absence of a childhood in the achievement of a level of super stardom unparalleled in music history.

He is representative of an entire generation. Yesterday, I felt a little bit like some of my childhood was taken away from me. Thriller was the first album I ever owned.

His music transcended boundaries and reached even the most remote areas of our earth. What a powerful thing. And I don’t think it’s important to mention his so-called “fall from grace” or any supposed indiscretions. No one will ever really know what it meant to be him. His is a life to be celebrated. I’m not even certain how I would begin to talk about his influence on dance culture and music culture. There are no words to describe.

Legend is the closest I can get.

And, on a personal level… I was reminded last night… My sister was the first person to call me. I remember when my older sisters would put the song Thriller on our Fisher Price record player and lock me in the basement with the lights off and make me listen to it until I cried. Haha… Being the youngest is tough. But I also remember the choreography we did to Beat It and how we showed my mom in our backyard and then went for a run through the sprinkler to cool off after all that hard work. And, later in my life, I remember sweating on a dance floor one hot summer night with Tash to Don’t Stop Til You Get Enough. She was the second person to call me last night. It made me feel better to hear her. And, earlier this year, I remember being sad and listening to Human Nature in my room on my bed, staring up at the ceiling with snow falling outside. I can't tell you how many ways his music has changed my life. Every school dance, every heartbreak, every house party... A soundtrack to life for kids growing up in the 80s.

And, being a dancer, I am so in awe of how he completely changed this art form. It will never be the same. I mean... Fred Astaire called him on the phone after his Motown 25 performance of Billie Jean. And he had this to say:

“I didn’t want to leave this world without knowing who my descendant was. Thank you Michael!”- Fred Astaire

This one is worth including too:

“The only male singer who I’ve seen besides myself and who’s better than me – that is Michael Jackson.” – Frank Sinatra

And although I'm devastated by the loss, I'm relieved that he didn't fade away. We are fortunate to have shared the earth with him, even if it was only for a short time.

me and chicken wings are, like, totally bffs.

2009-06-10T14:19:00.000-06:00

So last night I slept for maybe 3 hours. I don’t know why. I just couldn’t sleep. It happens sometimes. Maybe it’s because I made delicious roti and then ate too much and my belly looked like the belly of a poisoned piglet. I watched some basketball, drank some Ting, fell asleep for a bit, woke up for a bit, fell asleep for a bit, woke up for a bit and so on and so on. When the sun started coming up and my eyes were wide open I knew I’d be feeling rough all day. I almost pitched my empty Ting bottle out the window at a bird for chirping too cheerily and fucking up my whole mindset. By that point, I knew it was a lost cause so I went to the fridge to get some leftover roti and watched an episode of Trading Spouses. Terrible.

I decided to wear a delightfully comfortable black cotton dress. My rationale behind this was that if I had to sit at my desk all day with my eyes barely open, I could at least be wearing something that feels nice. Amazing idea… Or was it?? I’m not terribly troubled by people seeing my underpants as I sail by on Lenny because I’m going so fast they can only catch a fleeting glimpse before I’m gone and have left them wondering if they really saw what they think they saw. Food for thought. So it wasn’t this that concerned me. What I did find concerning, however, was the realization that the cotton, having been washed one too many times, had become super transparent thus rendering my underpants super visible through the dress itself. And it just so happens I’m wearing embarrassing ones today. Pink with ponies and clouds and a bow at the front. And, as if that weren’t enough, it happens to be a thong. So my ass feels pretty much totally bare. Not a bad feeling, I must admit… But not one I particularly want to share with the world. There's a reason why I don't wear ass-less chaps. Actually... Many reasons. But I digress...

So I bailed. Off my bike. Onto the road. I won’t even go into the details because it all happened so fast and it was totally my fault for biking down Yonge Street during rush hour like a bat out of hell. My bad. Anyway, I wasn’t hurt. Lenny is okay too. Still… I was a little bit scared. Nothing serious. Just not how I wanted to start the day.

So I was feeling like shit and was thinking of cancelling plans with my trainer for my noontime workout session. But I decided to go and I’m so glad that I did. So glad. I feel so much better right now. And I got to walk outside in the sun. And my trainer got me to do things I’ve never done before because I was scared and didn’t have anyone to spot me. I lifted more than I think I ever have. He seemed impressed. And then we did a full-out sprint for 20 minutes. It was fantastic.

So now I’m feeling like I can make it through the rest of the day. This is good news. And my plans for tonight are as follows:

Go home. Change into something made out of velour or some other fabric of comparable softness. Climb into bed. Eat chicken wings in bed. Watch tv in bed. Pass the fuck out by 10pm and wake up tomorrow morning feeling like a million bucks.

So now I’m doing google image searches of chicken wings to get myself all psyched for tonight.

This is my life, people. This is how I’m living today.

baby, don't worry 'bout it.

2009-05-29T09:02:00.000-06:00

Yeah… he’s kind of an idiot. But you have to admit that dude knows how to make music. How many hits has he had off of 808s & Heartbreak? I don’t know…. Lots. That is the correct answer.

So, I try to find as many opportunities as possible to make fun of the guy. He just makes it so damn easy. His most recent escapade of idiocy has to do with the book he just wrote. It’s a series of “Kanye-isms”. A must read. Here’s a real gem: “I feel like to misuse, overuse or abuse someone is negative. To use is necessary and if you can't be used, then you are useless." Wtf. Kanye… Just stick to music please? Thanks.

I think this is another quote worth mentioning: “Sometimes people write novels and they just be so wordy and so self-absorbed. I am not a fan of books. I would never want a book’s autograph.”

And what is his solution to self-absorbed wordiness and not being a fan of books? Well… Writing a self-absorbed book, of course. Duh. Obvious.

All of this being said, I hate that I love his music. He has found the perfect mix of hip-hop and hipster electronic beats and synthesizers. See… this way, he can appeal to just about everyone. So dudes in skinny jeans and fancy scarves and dudes in size 40 Sean John jeans and white wifebeaters can be equally as into his music. And chicks love dancing to it. Everyone wins.

This is my new fav single. Accompanied by a picture of a bear in outerspace wearing sunglasses. Sweet.

The point is, the guy’s an idiot. You’ll never hear me defending his personality. But you will hear his beats in my headphones. Not even gonna lie about that.

hate it or love it.

2009-05-26T09:25:00.000-06:00

I don't really care how much you hate (or love) 50 Cent. No one can deny the greatness of this track. It's one of those tracks that I can listen to today and I love it just as much as I did in 2005. It's timeless… Maybe that sounds dramatic but it really never gets played out. As many times as I've heard it (and I've heard it a lot) you'll never hear me say that I've heard it too often.

I remember the summer this single was released. It was a summer of me and Tash (most summers are) and when I had a car, we used to drive around the city in the sunshine and listen to this. I lived at 1217 Bathurst. I built a fence in the backyard that summer. I'm pretty sure that was the year that Tash and I got kicked out of Ultra Supper Club during Caribana. There were break ups with boyfriends, hot nights spent glistening with sweat on bare legs on dancefloors, bikerides under moonlight and streetlights, climbing fences to break into pools at 2 am. I was 24 going on 25.

Awww... Lookit how cute we were (and still totally are):

Now I'm 28 going on 29. And I have this song on my iPod so I listen to it while I'm flying around the city on my bike in my shorts and aviator sunglasses with my hair blowing in the breeze. I like biking past that corner at Yonge and Dundas where all the thugs hang out and holler at girls. I love giving them the finger when they yell things at me. I'm pretty sure they like it too. We've kinda gotten to this point where they know me since we see each other every day and when we make eye contact now, we give each other a slight head nod of recognition. They don't holler things at me anymore. So we're past the point of being adversaries. I like this.

This summer has just begun. But, so far, it has been characterized by my bike rides. Me 'n Lenny. And 50 Cent and The Game. Let's see what happens in the next few months and what singles get released that will always remind me of this…. My summer of 2009.

world's famous.

2009-05-20T14:38:00.000-06:00

Can't even start to tell you how much I love this track. So I won't bother trying. Just listen.

http://www.imeem.com/people/re3ec15/music/P5wgm0EF/pharrell-williams-number-one-feat-kanye-west/

And here's some gratuitous hotness.

this is the worst.

2009-05-15T13:03:00.000-06:00

So I noticed that my Rogers bill was a bit higher than normal. I decided to look at my detailed bill and saw that I had been charged $6.99 a few times for something called "Movie". I was like "I didn't order any movie. And why is that title so vague??"

So I called Rogers. Spoke with a girl named Kelly. I asked her what the deal was and I could hear her typing shit on the other end of the phone. Finally, she was like, "It was adult movies that were ordered." I was like, "Hahaha…. Seriously though," and she was like, "Yes, seriously." WTF. OMG. AS IF I would ever PAY for porn. Who does that? It's only a few clicks away and it's free. I mean… c'mon. And who would order a feature length porn?? All you need is like…. 3 minutes. Nobody is watching it for the plot. There are no complicated story arcs or dramatic plot twists. You pretty much know what's gonna happen. Isn't that obvious? And, in all honesty, if I wanted to see people doin it that badly, I could easily just make a phone call. And then I'd be doin it. Which is even funner than watching other people doin it.

So anyway, she said that their "policy" was to not return money for Video On Demand orders. So I asked her, "Is this going to be an on-going thing now? Will I continue to hemorrhage money on a porn habit that I don't even have???" F my life. For serious.

I should've asked her for the title and plot summary. That woulda made her pretty uncomfortable, I bet. And then I coulda been like, "Oh… I'm not even into that so it obviously wasn't me." Lol. Except what if she said it was called "Interracial Action" or something like that. I'd be like, "Oh snap. How ironic is that??" Haha.

Now everyone in the office is laughing about it. Awesome. But they heard me on the phone with this chick and they were like, "Man… I would not want to be the customer service representative that you end up dealing with." Yes… I can be a bit of a hard-ass. But only when people are trying to steal my money. That's why my friends bring me along whenever they have to deal with a situation at the bank or when they're trying to return something to a store with a "no returns" policy. I always win. And this is why I'm a successful business lady. I make things happen.

I'm not finished with you Rogers. You can expect a phone call later tonight when I've had a few hours to get even more pissed off about this... And possibly after I've had a few glasses of wine. That's when the fun really starts.

i heart lenny.

2009-04-23T08:58:00.000-06:00

So Lenny was being delivered to my house this morning at 6am. I was out kinda late last night so when the dude called at 5:45am, I was confused and I rolled out of bed and threw some pants on and stumbled down the stairs with heavy eyelids and hair looking like a rat's nest and I think my shirt may have been on inside out.

I was kind of annoyed at being woken up and my eyesight was a bit blurry…. Until I saw him. Lenny. Everything that I could have ever dreamed of. I ran over to him and jumped on and took a tour down the street in the early morning twilight. It was a little foggy and the ground looked shiny and wet. I sailed back over to the guy who had brought me this precious bicycle, thanked him repeatedly and excitedly, paid him, locked Lenny to my fence and crawled back into bed with a smile on my face. Best morning ever.

So I rode him to work this morning. It was a little cold but I didn't care. And I looked fly as hell with my short black jumper dress on, knee-high brown boots, cropped purple gabardine jacket and my black leather assassin gloves with a blue scarf tossed around my shoulders and my hair blowing in the breeze. I forgot how good this feels.

I still haven't worked out the best route to work from my house. This morning, I went all the way along Dundas to Beverly and then down to Queen and then across Queen to Yonge and then down Yonge to Wellington. Taking Dundas for most of my eastward journey meant that I had to go through Chinatown. I definitely saw my life flash before my eyes a few times, I'm not gonna lie. Prolly not the safest. Yonge St is also bananas, especially first thing in the morning during rush hour. Although I was happy to discover that they fixed that huge hole at Yonge and Adelaide since last year. My ass was probably most happy about that… The amount of times I sailed over that last year and ended up with bruised bum cheeks is troubling.

I only gave one person the finger on my entire route. And it wasn't for cutting me off or anything. I actually flipped it at some dude who made some super original comment about a "lucky bike seat" or something-or-other. What an ass. And so it begins… The harassment. At least I'm flying past so I don't actually have to deal with it for more than a second or two. Still. And I hardly doubt the bike seat thinks it's lucky. I mean… I wouldn’t want someone to sit on me with their sweaty buns. I have a hard time believing that's sexual in any capacity. Ew. Grossss.

Anyhow, it only took me 13 mins to get to work. By TTC it normally takes about 30 mins. So you know what that means? I just bought myself an extra 17 minutes of sleep every morning. Niiiiiiiice.

View Larger Map

california love.

2009-04-16T11:37:00.000-06:00

My trip to California was amazing. I feel so refreshed and well-rested. So maybe it's exactly what I needed.

Simon was perfect, as always. And I get so much joy from doing the simplest things with him. The second morning I was there, for example, I put him in some jeans and baby booties and a t-shirt and his Dodgers hat and took him to Whole Foods for all of his organic baby needs. I sat him in the shopping cart and got him a piece of papaya which he sucked on for about an hour before he took it out of his mouth and offered it to me. How Cute. Sharing is caring, I guess. lol. I said, "No thank you Simon," and his mashed it up in his palms and squealed and laughed and then clapped his hands. So amazing.

I also took him shoe shopping for the first time… Of course it would be me to introduce him to the world of shoes. Who else?? I bought him a pair of Lacoste sneaker and some baby Timberlands. lol.

I had my first slow dance with him that same afternoon. He buried his soft little face in my neck and sighed and I could feel his tiny hands on my shoulders as I spun him around and the soft rise and fall of his baby pot belly. I looked out the window and saw the California sun setting over palm trees and mountaintops, partially obscurred because of the waves of heat rising off the ground. I felt myself swallowing past a little lump in my throat and my ribcage suddenly felt like someone was squeezing it. I blinked away a few tears and held him closer to me. And that's what it feels like to be in love.

This is what we danced to:

For me, times in my life are always captured by the songs I happen to be listening to at that particular point. When I was in California, I was all about this song. My sis really likes it so we were listening to it together while we were making dinner and drinking wine.

On the flight there, I pretty much had this song on repeat:

And then, oddly enough, the guy I sat beside on the flight back who I ended up talking to since we were both stranded in Charlotte, NC for like 8 hours had this song on his iPod and asked if I wanted to share his headphones so we could listen together. It was actually kind of romantic. It was nightime and there was a crazy thunderstorm and I leaned on his shoulder all the way home. Turns out his cousin plays for the Miami Heat. My fav team. So he had plenty of stories about partying with those guys to keep me entertained and keep my mind off the fact that I was afraid of dying in a plane crash.

Okay, so… Possibly the most important part of my trip was the surfing. Totally…. Amazing. It blew my mind. Floating in the ocean on a surfboard, waiting for the perfect wave… There isn't a better feeling in the world. Huntington Beach is so cool. It's basically a bunch of hippie surfer dudes smoking weed and cooling out on the beach. How amazing it must be to feel like you have nowhere else to go and nothing else to do. There's no rush to do anything. There's no need to get anything done. I love that. So different from my life. I mean… I'd likely get bored of it in a fairly short amount of time but it was nice to do it for as long as I did it.

K… This is hilarious and I laugh everytime I think about it but… Wanna know what song I had in my head as I was walking along the beach with my surfboard? You're totally gonna laugh because it's ridiculous:

Oh and of course I can't forget to include this song… That'd just be wrong. We listened to this driving past Inglewood and Rosecrans. Haha… That's right… I said "driving past". Because you don't stop there, particularly if you're cruising around in a Beemer. Hahaha.

So, long story short… I had one of the best weeks of my life in recent memory. I miss that baby every day. And I miss the ocean. Might be time to look for a job in California…

yessssss i did it!!!!

2009-04-14T08:12:00.000-06:00

So, this is the project I just finished. It was months (and months) in the making but it's finally done! TELETOON content launched this morning on iTunes! Yay!

The amount of work that went into this project was kind of astounding actually. Many, many nights and weekends spent writing XML code and rendering images and writing copy and encoding digital assets, etc. by the fluorescent glow of my computer screen in a dark and deserted office, eating cold chinese take-out after everyone has gone home to their families for nice, warm dinners. Phew. So happy that part is over.

Check it out on the iTunes store. There's a free episode to download from each series that we have available. There are two network pages: TELETOON and TELETOON Detour. The Detour page has our 18+ content including Rick & Steve which is a co-production with MTV. It's a great show... If you like gay playmobil-style characters and their lesbian and HIV+ friends. So hilariously offensive. Or you can opt for a slightly less provocative series like Total Drama Island: The best animated "reality" series on television (yeah... we kinda stole the idea from Survivor a little bit but ours is waaaaaay better.)

There's something for everyone. I already have 'em all on my iPod Touch. Now I can take them with me anywhere in the world and be the life of the party and the most popular kid in town in any situation (even more so than usual, I mean). Excellent...

p.s. We'll be adding more series in the near future so keep checking back. :) Go to the iTunes store and do a search for TELETOON. You'll find us... Plus, we're all over the main page too.

Here's my fav character, Izzy from Total Drama Island, playing XBox with a bear...

wow.

2009-04-01T12:47:00.001-06:00

This has gotta be the worst piece of crap anyone has ever made. lol.

Last week, I went to a stop-motion animation workshop at the National Film Board. It was fun except the clay made my hands feel and smell pretty weird. But that's neither here nor there.

The important thing is that I was finally able to create my Opus... The idea I had been dreaming of endlessly... My own film entitled "Snakes on a Train". Finally, all of my dedication and effort and years of planning would come to fruition right in front of my very eyes.

I think I was pretty bossy in the group I was in (surprise, surprise) but I was lucky to work with my friends Jess and Anita... They understood my vision. They understand me.

So... Here it is. The premiere will be showing at Bloor Cinema. (Actually... It's just gonna be me standing outside of the Bloor Cinema showing people my movie on my iPod Touch. That was Anita's idea.) ;)

Quick plot summary: Snakes enter train. Lady and dude dance in the subway before she gets flung into the open subway doors and subsequently cut in half by the closing doors and then eaten by snakes. Watch it a few times and pay attention to the dude turning away in horror and covering his eyes. My only regret is not making him puke in disgust. That woulda been awesome.

It's a modern tale of love and loss in these uncertain times we live in...

Snakes on a Train from Anita Bot on Vimeo.

dubstep nation... gimme tha oscar.

2009-03-23T12:10:00.000-06:00

Not sure if I like this or not yet. I mean… Normally I'm cool with just about everything Snoop does and everyone surely knows by now how down I am with Bollywood. I just think this is a little indicative of bandwagon-jumping. Yeah… Slumdog Millionaire was an amazing film. I'm glad it got the recognition that it did. Every bit of it was deserved. Watching it made me so homesick for Bombay. It really looked exactly how I remember it and it created that profound happy/sad nostalgia that most memories do. It seems so unfair that even pleasant memories turn sad at some point when you realize that you can't ever have those moments back. It's just over.

Also, I'm not a huge fan of this whole "rock" vibe in new hip hop. Keep 'em separate. The reason why I listen to hip hop is because I don't feel like listening to rock music and vice versa. Don't make me do two things at once. It makes me feel confused. And this isn't an entirely new phenomenon is music… just a really annoying one. It's… abrasive. Does this mean I'm getting old?? Yeah... I think it does.

So the Bollywood thing… I've been on this tip since time. I love the fact that a developing country has its own film and star system that rivals the popularity of American cinema. This is very rare. I think there were about 3 Hollywood movies in the theatres for the entire year that I was there. It is hugely dominated by their own national productions and I love that. It's like a big "fuck you" to America. A very musical and colourful sort of fuck you. And that's the best kind.

Here's my fav Bollywood dance number of all time. This movie is how I learned to speak Hindi. Oh, and check out dude's moustache. Amaaaaazing. lol

And here's the Snoop track. You'll have to decide for yourself if you like it or not. I'm gonna listen to it a few more times but if it doesn't grow on me like a motherfucker I'm gonna drop it… like it's hot.

http://hypem.com/track/780638

p.s. This is what India looked like to me:

the do's and do not do's of dating.

2009-03-12T11:51:00.000-06:00

I feel it is my duty to humanity to break a few things down and impart my infinite wisdom to those less fortunate in the smarts department. Dating is a battlefield… No doubt about it. It can break you. It can shatter your world view and sense of security. It can alter the course of your destiny… Mostly, it does none of these things. But whatever. That's not my point. Truth is… I'm probably as shitty at it as the next person. Maybe shittier. But there are a few things I've noticed that I think are worth mentioning:

1) If you're having a perfectly good email/msn/text message exchange, don't fuck it up by saying something stupid like, "We should pencil each other in at some point this weekend."

Pencil? Me in? Who are you?? Joe Businessman?? This is bad.

2) Lesson I learned the hard way: When giving out a fake phone number, it's probably best to not give the number for Pizza Pizza. They will know you're lying. Trust me. (It was the first number that came to my head… I order chicken wings a lot or something, I guess).

3) Now, I'm not quite sure how to explain the distinction between a healthy amount of attention and borderline weirdo territory. Maybe some people are just better at reading people and know when enough is enough. For example, I like texting as much as the next person. But I'm gonna get bored of it after a point. If you really got somethin to say, call me. Email me. Or hook somethin up face to face. Crazy idea, I know. But you have to push the limits sometimes.

4) On the other hand, being completely ignored is kinda not cool either. If I don't hear from someone for two weeks, they are off my radar. I am not running a drop in centre for troubled youth. You can't just waltz in, play a game of ping pong, make some macaroni art and then disappear until the next time you feel like hangin out. Nuh uh. Doesn't work that way.

5) Oh here's a thing: Don't ask a girl how many guys she's been with. This is not cool. You wouldn't think anyone would be stupid enough to do this but it happens kind of a lot. If you think you're getting an honest answer anyway, you're kinda delusional.

6) Calling once or twice to see if someone is available on a Friday night is totally acceptable. What is NOT acceptable is calling repeatedly (4+ times) and sending a series of text messages that say things like "Helloooooo??" or "U there???" If someone doesn't respond to your text messages or answer your phone calls the first fifty times, the chances of them getting back to you are pretty slim. It's more likely you'll hear from the police regarding a restraining order.

7) This one is for the men… Guys… PLEASE don't call us at 10pm on a Friday night to ask if we wanna hang out. For starters, we probably already have plans since we certainly weren't waiting around for your sorry ass to call. Also, we need time. Time to get ready. Time to shave our legs. Time to put make up on. Time to choose an outfit. Don't assume we can just throw a jacket and some shoes on and be good to go. Unless we know each other really well or you’re my actual real boyfriend, this is not going to happen. And I'm all for being spontaneous, don't get me wrong. But it just seems disrespectful in some way to wait until the last minute to call and make plans. Makes it seem like you were waiting for something better and something better didn't happen so now you're on to Plan B. Me. Eesh. I don't like this one bit.

8) Please try to refrain from commenting on how hot other girls are when we're out together. I mean… I know there are a lot of attractive people in the world. But that's no reason to lose your shit every time you see a relatively decent looking girl strolling past. This is what you hang out with your guy friends for. I don't want to be your chick-scouting wingman. Please and thank you.

9) If you go to someone's house and they've bought a bottle of wine or something for the two of you to share and you happen to not finish it… Don't ask to take the leftover wine with you when you leave. Just don't.

10) Save any criticism on physical appearance until at least the third date. Don't start out with suggestions on how someone should dress or wear their hair. Because your opinion might not be that relevant. And, more importantly, the other person might not care what you think about their own personal style. Maybe they think you suck worse and would rather die than take any fashion advice from you. I'm just sayin'…

So, go forth into the dating world armed with these tips. I don't guarantee success. In fact, I can pretty much guarantee failure only. But these tips will help prolong the success part that will eventually turn into the failure part. So, that's something. I guess.

You're welcome.

krump vs. turf.

2009-02-24T14:37:00.000-06:00

I'm obsessed with this vid. Can't stop watching it. And I'm gonna be in Venice Beach in April so I'm gonna have to see what's up. I wanna see some crew battles. Maybe I'll even throw down… ? Not sure. How out of place would I be? Even though I'm starting to be able to do some dance shit that would blow your mind. I could dance before, no doubt. But I'm surprised with how I've learned to move my body in really unconventional ways.

I wasn't even familiar at all with Turf dancing til recently. It's an acronym for "Taking Up Room on the Floor". It's not really a style that can be taught since it doesn't contain foundational movements. It's mostly based on illusions created by gliding and footwork that is largely based on the dancer's own personal style and technique.

And, obviously, krumping is one of my favs. If you've ever gone out dancing with me, you know this already. I just love how people get live. It's so intense. I love the way girls do it. There's a comment under this video on YouTube that says, "Girls look mad sexy when they go hyphy." True, true. I couldn't agree more.

Watch it:

Also, the track is BIG. So u can listen to it here:

Oh, and I was talking to my friend Duris on msn about krumping and this is what our conversation looked like:

Dur says:
it looks like someone could get decked in the face at any moment

jodi says:
yeah i love that

Dur says:
no comment

all of this before breakfast.

2009-02-10T15:39:00.000-06:00

My morning ride to work. Downtown Toronto. The Dundas streetcar, specifically. I go through a lot of different neighbourhoods. All within the span of about 15 minutes, which I find pretty remarkable. The weather felt warm this morning. Overcast and wet and a little foggy. It was beautiful.

Little Portugal. My area. The snow is almost entirely melted. It's turned brown, mostly, and the last vestiges of winter cling to it in the form of tiny bits of garbage that had been frostily concealed under its gentle white embrace at one point. Now cars and feet have turned all of this into puddles and the bits of garbage float around loosely, aimlessly.

In a second-hand children's clothing store, the front window display is set up to show E.T. and a scraggly teddy bear having a tea party. The tea set is pink. E.T. and the teddy bear are both wearing dresses. E.T.'s dress is nicer.

The streetcar sails past the Portugese butcher shop where men in long white coats are hanging blood red beasts on hooks outside. I can see the men's breath curling softly up into the air as they struggle to lift the carcasses onto their shoulders. The long white coats soon become soaked through with warm blood and I wonder if that feels comforting in the chilly morning air.

I can smell the bakeries on my street preparing their first sweet breads and Malacadas and Cinnamon Biscoitos of the day. It's important to close your eyes and breathe deep to experience this. I wish I could marry a man who works in one of these bakeries so I could fall asleep beside this smell every night.

Passing Ossington, my favourite graffitti in the city, on the side of a Vietnamese soup restaurant.

It says:
"In the infinite moments it will take you to read this, you will have lived forever."

I pass it everyday and it has yet to lose its meaning or entirely make sense.

Trinity Bellwoods Park. The snow is still intact, having remained somewhat impervious to winterboots and cars, aside from narrow footpaths. There is the slightest bit of fog hovering around tree trunks. A pretty girl in a red coat (a stark contrast to the white and black background) pulls her scarf closer to her neck and pulls her golden-coloured hair out from underneath it so that it can rest on her back. On the outside of her jacket. It looks lovely.

Children in snowsuits and rubber boots jumping in a slush puddle at the bus stop. Their mother looks too tired to intervene.

The streetcar passes Scadding Court Community Centre. My summer pool. It's empty now but if I stare hard enough for a minute, I can see kids running around, pot-bellied in their bathing suits with water wings on. I can see teenagers, flirtatiously splashing, simultaneously self concious at their exposed flesh. And then I see myself, at night, after the pool has closed… waist-deep in the water with a lover. Touching each other tentatively. Kisses on necks. Water caressing bellies. Pushing my wet hair to one side of my face so I can press my lips against someone's lips and open slowly to reveal eager pink tongues, ready to lick and explore. Wet and cold somehow made possible in the midst of a humid summer night. Hands touching and nervousness at being caught.

Atkinson Co-Operative Housing. It's right beside the pool. Mostly Jamaican and Puerto Rican flags in the windows here. The kind of boys who come over to the pool and say dirty things to girls from behind the fence and create inexplicable stirrings in hearts and bikini bottoms. That fear mixed with excitement. The dangerous boys.

And now Chinatown. The names of the shops are either so Chinese that I can't pronounce them properly or so Westernized that they don't make any sense. I see the words "happy" and "lucky" and "number 7" quite a bit… Sometimes all three of them together. And there's a convenience store near my house called Double D. Seems odd considering their merchandise isn't tit-related at all. Very misleading. Also, the notorious Bros Convenience which I have renamed "Bros Before Hoes Convenience". It's a landmark. If you see it, it means you're only seconds away from my house.

There's a group of Vietnamese teenagers on the corner of Spadina and Dundas. High top sneakers, super cool and expensive-looking haircuts, leather jackets, smoking cigarettes and sporting moderately disdainful facial expressions. We pass the bubble tea shops, the beauty salons and massage parlours (I always wonder which ones give "extras"… all of them?), Dragon City Mall and the massive screen 5 stories up displaying news stories, music videos and television commercials from Beijing, Bangkok and Beyond. There's an old man churning out sugar cane juice and a bunch of young guys setting up their fruit stands, bootleg dvd stands, watch and sunglasses stands, ladies undergarments stands… You want it, they got it. You break it, you buy it.

The streetcar is full now. People squeeze and push and breathe and cough. It's hot inside my winter jacket. It's almost my stop. I can see the tops of the buildings from the Financial District coming into view through a slight haze that hangs over Toronto like a lovingly smothering blanket. The sun's rays break through it from time to time to warm faces on the street and make snow disappear. Like a magic show.

As I step off the streetcar and fill my lungs with cold air, the wind pushes my hair back from my face. It feels like the touch of someone who loves me, wanting to be close to the skin on my neck. I walk purposefully and allow Toronto to swallow me up in its inner-city embrace.

As a sidenote, if you'd like to know what was playing on my iPod... not deliberately morbid. I just really like this song...

this is me... walking...

tap that ass.

2009-01-14T03:33:00.000-06:00

K... We all know from my last post that I'm into tap dance. I've made that abundantly clear. True or false?

But, I'm writing this because I don't want to discredit regular dancing. Some good ol' fashioned booty grinding is always in order. There's never an occasion where it isn't appropriate. Funerals and church services, maybe. Unless you're Baptist in which case I'm pretty sure you could pull it off.

Anyway, it made me think that it's been awhile since I've been to a legit "club" downtown. Last time was in October with Stu when we went to Lot 332. They let me in without even checking my purse. Stu got searched for a good 15 minutes... I'll venture a guess and say it's because he's black. But see... What they fail to take into account is that I could very well have been his ride-or-die chick and coulda been carrying his piece in my dainty handbag. I wasn't, btw, but I'm just tryna prove a point.

Regardless, we had fun. They played some good dancehall jams towards the end of the night and we had plenty of things to ridicule given the gross chicks dancing on stage and the loser dudes who were in it to win it. Let me tell you... That 2am scramble to find someone to take home is pretty intense. Guys... You gotta have a plan. 'Cause the less pretty girls know already that you're only talkin to them 'cause the hot chicks are taken. But, if it's your lucky night, they might just have low enough self esteem to give in to your drunken advances. Victory will be yours. Until the next morning when you realize you lost in a big way.

Clubs aren't really my scene anymore. I go to small Queen St West West West (otherwise known as Parkdale) hipster jams. Which is sometimes more annoying since hipsters are notoriously dirty and broke and you can always count on some young buck asking to have a sip of your drank since they can't afford their own on account of buying $300 skinny jeans and $175 high-tops. Coupled, of course, with $2 plastic sunglasses from Kensington. The eclectic nature of it all blows my mind.

At hipster jams you also get a few of those shoe-gazer dudes who stand on the periphery of the dancefloor, arms folded across chest, silently judging while simultaneously picking up fashion tips. Weak. I hate peeps who are 2 kewl 2 dance. Everyone is too drunk and/or high to give a shit what you look like so just get loose.

I remember my first club experience. I was 15 and my older sister drove me to Hull to a place called Au Zone. In Quebec, they don't give a shit how old you are. It's shocking to get asked for ID. You'd have to be about 8 years old. But I basically spent those adolescent weekends getting hickeys from guys with under-developed mustaches named something like Armand-Lucien in a dark corner of the club and then holding my girlfriend's hair back while she yakked in the parking lot. And then I'd be inexplicably sporting scarves for a week in the middle of summer so I wouldn't get grounded by my mum for having suck marks on my neck. Ahh... The good ol' days.

When I moved to Toronto in 1999, I lived in residence at U of T so I was in the mix with a bunch of other freshies and none of us knew where to go or what to do. People on campus would hand out flyers and, one day, we got one for Limelight. So we figured... Why not check it out? Bad idea. As far as I'm concerned, places like that are not representative of Toronto. I was like, "What the fuck kinda city is this?" Frat boys, ginos, lame 80's muzak like 99 Red Ballons and shit... It was a complete disaster. Hated it. (Imagine me saying that in a Damon Waynes "Men On Film" voice from In Living Color). But it's hard being new to a city since all the cool places are a bit underground. You don't even know they exist unless you're lucky (and cool) enough to befriend a much older, much wiser scenester. Jackpot. BTW, does Limelight still exist? I don't think it does, right? After that night, my friends and I coined the name "Slimelight" since it seemed much more fitting.

So where do I hang out now since I'm clearly too cool for everything? haha. To be honest, I like places where I know the bouncers and bartenders. No waiting in line, no cover charge and free drinks occasionally. So, The Drake and The Beaconsfield are always good. Sutra on College St. Baby Hueys on Ossington. Unit on Queen. Thymeless just north of Kensington (best reggae jams). The Boat on Augusta. Umm... my house?? I make delicious sandwiches and have an XBox, Wii and PS3. Oh, and an HD box for my plasma screen tv. I also have an extensive shoe collection which I show off at any opportunity... Whether you like it or not.

So, yeah... My house is the hottest club in Little Portugal. And, for the next World Cup, shit's gonna get crazy. Especially since I'll be cheering for France. ;)

See... ? Even Jesus wants you to get crunk.

dance, dance, dance.

2009-01-09T05:19:00.000-06:00

Those of you who know me are aware of my extensive shoe collection. An excessive amount of shoes. Perhaps too many... Although I believe in my heart that there is no such thing as having too many shoes. I have stilettos, flats, boots, mary-janes, pumps, platforms, high tops... The list goes on. But the fact of the matter is this: To this day, my fav (and most expensive) shoes by far are my tap shoes. Hands-down. No contest. They're boy-style so that they bend in the middle. I love them so much that I made a special place where I can hang them on my wall. I've worn them and broken them in to the point where they feel like a natural part of me when I put them on. I almost feel naked without them.

Dance.

It's my life. There's something about being in a big open space with floor-to-ceiling mirrors on one side of the room, scuffed and marked hardwood floors and a bunch of sweaty people in fly sneakers, track pants and cool hats from Bigitup. It's the best feeling in the world, before the class starts when you're like, "I'm gonna dance and sweat until I fall down or die or render myself incapable of movement for three days." I crave that feeling. It makes my existence worthwhile and... complete.

I've basically been dancing since I could walk but I've recently branched out and done some different stuff, just to push the boundaries of what my body can do. I blogged about it before but I'll reiterate that the dancehall/reggae class I took was so so so hype. And I took a stiletto class... Which was basically just really sexy music-video-style moves performed in absurdly high heels. Fun but potentially ankle-breaking. I mean... I usually dance in high heels when I go out on the weekends but I'm also usually drunk which provides a special shield against injury... somehow... miraculously. (As a sidenote, I once beat a grown ass man in a 100m sprint down Augusta in Kensington Market at 4am. He was wearing the Nike Dunk Samurai Editions and I was wearing 5 inch platform stilettos. I'm not kidding. Ask anyone... It happened.)

But, although I've introduced these new styles, I still always find myself craving the original style I was drawn to which is tap. I love music. Always have. And I think the idea of making my own music with my feet really captivated me. I took East Coast Celtic dance from when I was 3 years old... A rite of passage for a kid from an Irish family. So I already knew how to work tap shoes. But, when I moved to Toronto, I discovered a whole next world of tap that blew my mind entirely. And that's an understatement.

My first tap teacher here was Shawn Byfield. And I've since taken classes from Jerome Jean-Gilles. Both ridiculously good dancers. Watching them move makes me feel like crying and doing something to save the world. It inspires me. The talent and effort involved is not measurable by human standards.

You might think I'm exaggerating but it truly does these things to me.

So, being the knowledge-seeking nerd that I am, I started to research the history of tap dancing. I won't get into it in too much detail but I'll just say that it was invented by black people... surprise, surprise... much like most good music and movement and riddim. They knew what they were doing. It borrowed elements from Irish step dancing, African drum beats, Indian Bharatanatyam footwork and Spanish Flamenco. But it truly became it's own thing.

I mean... I have to also give shout-outs to Fred Astaire, Ginger Rogers and Gene Kelly... all great dancers. And they brought tap to the stage and screen which helped legitimize it as an artform. So necessary. Oh, and watch this. I wanna find a dude who can dance me around like this. Imagine being up in the club and just busting this? You'd probably get beat up but it would look cool for a minute before someone kicked your ass. And I will marry the man who can dance and twirl me around like this. And I will do his laundry and have his dinner waiting for him after work and... some other things... Let's just leave it at that.

Okay... Remember that episode of the Cosby Show where Dr. Huxtable does the tap dance battle? I remember seeing it for the first time and being like, "That's what I wanna do." Oh, and I found the clip on YouTube. So if you feel like jumping back a decade or two, check it out. And at around 2:25 in the vid, Sandman Simms starts doing pick ups... These took me forever to learn but once you do it right for the first time, you never forget how it's done.

I'm trying not to make this too long and uninteresting. Trying to find a way to sum it up swiftly and succinctly. Bottom line: I wrote my fourth year Cinema Studies thesis on the films of Spike Lee. We all love Do The Right Thing. But, one of his highly underrated and perhaps best works was Bamboozled. Please please please watch it. I've seen it 12 times and I will gladly watch it again with anyone who hasn't experienced it yet. It's satirical... keep that in mind. Savion Glover was in the film, doing what he does best: dancing.

Couldn't find a clip from the movie but found this other one that's just so raw and real and beautiful. Watch it and pay attention to how content he looks. Hoofing the way he does cancels out all other sounds, disturbances, troubles, worries and concerns. All of a sudden, it's just you and your feet. Also keep in mind that he improvises nearly everything he does which makes it even more amazing.

Then I found this clip from back in the day before Savion had locks and when the brilliantly talented Gregory Hines was still alive.

And when I was staying in Harlem in November of 2006, my tap teacher told me to bring my tap shoes because I was gonna need them. I was like, "Okaaaaay", but I brought them despite being skeptical and not really understanding what he meant. I quickly discovered that Sunday afternoons after church was the time to throw down a piece of plywood on a street corner and just do it and do it and do it until your feet can't do it anymore. And I checked out the Harlem School for the Performing Arts. Kids were throwing down something serious. It was big. And they were doing the Shim Sham which all tap dancers are familiar with because it's old school and it's just necessary to learn that choreography, for future reference. So I jumped in. Can't tell you what that was like. Magic.

But, having said all this, I still have my fav tap dancer of all time and that is Bill Bojangles Robinson. And this is my fav tap moment of all time. Listen to the sounds and watch his feet. He makes such small and fast movements that his feet sometimes look like they're not moving at all. The best part is the soft shoe he does with Shirley Temple at the top of the stairs. Watch:

So this is what I live for. Now y'all know a bit more about me. I let you into my world a little bit. So, take a page from the book of Jodi and try a little bit of hoofing in the privacy of your own home. It's a good place to start. And, I promise you that you'll be surprised by the lovely sounds your feet can make. And remember: syncopation is the key. So you should start on the first or eighth beat count. Try listening to Stevie Wonder's Higher Ground. First song I ever learned tap choreography to. Maybe it'll also work for you.

And if you need a teacher or want to earn extra credit outside of your class time... holler at your girl. ;)

lady in the streets and a freak in the sheets.

2009-01-08T12:11:00.000-06:00

I don't know why Ludacris wrote this song about me…. but he did it again. ;) Bam.

I just really wanna post this track. And thank someone for sending it to me. But now I might get fired from my job because I just can't sit here in my office and listen to this without winding just a little bit. Trying just to move my hips right now… then no one can see since my bottom half is hidden by my desk. So clever, right? And, otherwise, I'm sitting up perfectly proper. I'm fooling everyone right now.

Oh... but I'm sure they'd be able to see it in my eyes…. Forgot about that detail. I have no solution to this. Am open to suggestions. If I sat here blindfolded, would that look weird? I mean... would that seem odd to you? Could that fly under the radar or no? Novelty glasses? I'm out of ideas...

Just listen to the jam plz:

Nasty Girl (co-starring Plies) - Ludacris

rubdowns.

2009-01-05T15:12:00.000-06:00

Pretty sure I was just violated. Pretty sure it felt awesome. Pretty sure I paid for it. Definitely certain there is something wrong with all of this.

K, so…having mono has really kicked my ass. Mostly, my shoulders and neck have been aching for a straight month and that can be a little hard to tolerate. But, I haven't really had enough energy to go see my doctor or do anything to make it better. Since I'm back at work today, I decided to go for a shiatsu treatment during my lunch break. It was only the second time in my life that I've had shiatsu performed by a man. The first time was a bit of a debacle. I actually wrote a blog about it back in 2006. On December 31st 2006 so almost exactly two years ago. You can read it if you'd like. It's kinda funny, I guess:

http://blogs.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.view&friendID=52056042&blogID=211799514

But, I like to pretend that I can be grown up and mature about things so I was like, "Well… I've put that experience behind me and it's time for me to trust again. I can't carry around that kind of anger for the rest of my life. It's not healthy."

My bad. I can carry around that kind of anger and it is healthy. Anyway, the guy who's about to rub my nearly nude and oiled-up body comes in and he looks like a massage therapist by day and hired muscle for the Triads by night. I swear to god. He's this 6"3 asian man which is abnormal in and of itself and he has his hair all slicked back and he's wearing black pleated dress pants and a tight white t-shirt. I mean… seriously. Am I wrong in feeling weird about all this?

So, shiatsu hurts quite a bit. The pressure is supposed to be really hard and it's mostly done on pressure points so sometimes you feel like you might pass out. As a result of the pain, I often grunt or make noises that sound a little something like "umm" or "ahhh". And I sweat a lot because it hurts and my cheeks get flushed… Start adding up these elements and I'm sure you can more or less visualize the sexuality of it all. So he asks me, "How do you like your massage?" and I'm trying to think of a non-sexual way to answer this question. I mean… what do you say? I like it hard? No… that won't work. I like it deep? No… that won't work either. So this is my response: "Umm… vigorous. Please. I'd like my massage to be vigorous. Please." So awkward.

So he starts in with the rubbing, pressing, squeezing and pushing. I couldn't even relax. All I could think about was how it could be at all possible that this guy didn't have a boner. And he was getting all grunty and sweaty too since he was practically on top of me, pressing down on me with his massive hands. I had my hands clenched into tiny fists, ready for action if necessary. I was so uncomfortable that I clenched my bum, tightened up my abs, held my breath and arched my back a little… This position was supposed to make me feel more protected but I realized it probably just made me look more into it. So I forced myself to relax. Then he started doing this thing where he was shaking my leg from the ankle which basically made my booty clap and it was shakin' all over the damn place. I felt like I was in an Elephant Man video. And I was all oiled up too. Eeesh.

The worst part was that he kept asking if I liked it and if it felt good. I was like, "Yeah… sure. I mean…feels really… nice and good. Very… umm… therapeutic." I'm such an idiot. And then he was like, "Do you want it harder?" I mean… wtf. If you're going to molest a girl on your massage table, you could at least be discreet about it. He was totally rubbing it in my face… not literally. And not "it". But you know what I mean.

Anyway, my back feels pretty awesome. And I might have made the whole thing up. I mean… Maybe the only reason why I assumed it was sexual is because I was the real dirtbag in that situation. Maybe it never even crossed his mind that it could be misconstrued that way. Maybe it's a product of my own twisted perversions.

I tipped him ten dollars.

christmas just isn't christmas without useless gifts.

2009-01-04T03:54:00.000-06:00

There was only one thing I wanted for Christmas and I didn't get it. I was sure I had dropped enough subtle hints but apparently not. Thanks a lot, world, for not delivering my Christmas wish.

Y'see... all I wanted was a Snuggie. I'm sure you've seen the infomercials. If not, allow me to learn you right now.

The first thing I thought was that it looks KKK-ish. And, admittedly, I don't say that about a lot of things. But what I really love is how infomercials try to convince you that you really can't live without a certain product. Like... How many times have you been trying to cook dinner while wrapped in a blanket? Ummm... Let's see... ZERO. How about turning up the fucking heat if you're cold?? Because that's what I normally do. And I think it's slightly cultish to show up to a sporting event with your family members in matching Snuggies. If you're trying to reaffirm your status as weirdest family on the block, you should do this. Otherwise, avoid it at all costs. For real.

Oh wait... I have an idea. How bout you take one of your own blankets and cut some holes in it if you need your arms unhindered so badly? Or maybe just wear a really warm sweater? Is that unreasonable? I don't know anymore. Maybe the cult of Snuggie has impaired my judgment.

I can almost imagine the announcer for the infomercial saying: "If you call now, we'll throw in a newborn infant child for you to ritually sacrifice while wearing your Snuggie." And then the family congregates in the kitchen to drink special Kool-Aid that will reunite them with the Supreme Being and end all human pain and suffering. And by "pain and suffering" I mean unwed mothers and non-white people and non-closeted gay people.

It's intense, no doubt. I never realized how much I needed one 'til I saw this infomercial. Kinda like when you go to Ikea and you're in line at the cash and they have all those "impulse buy" bins. It's like, "Well, this ice cube tray that makes puzzle piece-shaped ice cubes is only 99 cents so I obviously have to buy it." And then you wonder how you ever survived without puzzle piece-shaped ice cubes in the first place. Your existence was clearly inauthentic and fundamentally flawed.

Thank you television and creepy marketing campaigns for reminding me of what my life is clearly lacking. Without you, I'd be a shell of a human being, living a very hollow existence. Normalcy, I guess, is available for the low, low price of $14.95 (plus S+H).

my status is the baddest.

2008-12-22T15:28:00.000-06:00

Couldn't stop listening to these two tracks today so I thought I'd share. Big, big chunes. And you'll love them. Gotta listen to them loud though...

http://www.imeem.com/jukeboxmusic15/music/7wFBd0CD/jeru_the_damaja_scientifical_madness/

http://www.imeem.com/people/1aUNau/music/qpfQ6IRd/jaylib_the_red/

Now these songs will always remind me of today.

i want you to be my ride or die.

2008-12-17T14:19:00.000-06:00

Just a quick question: So... is this what we're doing now? Are these love songs?? For serious??

I've heard a few songs recently and I'm starting to think that this is what it all comes down to. I mean... I really have to reference T.I.'s lyrics here: "Brain so good, swore you went to college." Oh man... I mean... WTF? What would I say if someone ever said that to me? Well, assuming I was deserving of such praise... I guess I'd be like, "That's the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me." haha.

K... So, these are the examples I'd like to reference. First we have Plies, politely requesting to P-p-p-put it on ya. Oh, and he'd also like you to put your legs up on his shoulders, if you don't mind. Funtimes.

http://www.imeem.com/nkaiacsmith/music/FtX7sSPG/plies_put_it_on_ya/

Next we have Ace Hood. The opening lyrics really sort of sum up the entire song pretty well:

“See mama, all I want you to do is hold it down for me
I want you to be my ride or die
While I go get this money, I promise I’mma get us out tha hood baby”

http://www.imeem.com/acehood/music/1vP6sVuH/ace_hood_ride_featuring_trey_songz/

See, what I understand from this complex lyrical mastery is that he's looking for a ride or die chick which basically means a girl who's willing to ignore potential legality issues so long as she's getting all of the material benefits involved. So, while he’s out in the streets “chasin’ paper” she’ll hold shit down at home and may even participate in a driveby or two… Only when absolutely necessary. Obviously. Because he buys her handbags.

See? He says it right here:

“Come back with bundles, pimp a half a G and Louie V”

Awwww…. I’m melting. Isn’t that just the most romantic thing you’ve ever heard??

Why doesn't someone break the law for my frivolous demands? I mean… Aren't I worth an armed robbery or two??

But, seriously… If you’re considering it, I’d much prefer a Balenciaga bag. Louis Vuitton is just so… 2002. Aren’t we over that already? So anyway, I hope this answers your question... if you happened to be on your way to rob a bank and were asking yourself, “What would Jodi want me to get for her if I don’t end up in jail, making license plates and sharing a shower with dozens of other dudes for the rest of my life.” Bam. Now you have your answer.

I think I’ll leave you with perhaps the most heart-wrenchily sentimental lyrics from this track:

“Now what's the definition of a rider
Through it all they gon stand right beside ya
If you got one look em in the eyes
Tell em you gon ride
Tell em you gon ride
Till the wheels fall off or the day that I die
That's on my life
Ain’t nun wrong wit tryna love somebody”

Couldn’t have said it better myself, Ace. There truly is nun wrong wit tryna love somebody.

dance, too much booty in yer pants.

2008-12-04T15:44:00.000-06:00

So I tried out a new dance studio the other night and I'm totally hooked. The class I went to was some crunked-up variation of regular hip hop. I was worried it was going to be a bunch of super white girls who were taking it to feel super unconventional and to be able to say they did it and talk to their friends about how kewl and "black" it was. Now... I realize it might seem like that's what I'm doing right now. But, in my defense, I have a weave now so I feel like I can fly under the radar a bit when it comes to being a white chick on black turf.

But I was pleasantly surprised to see that it was dudes and chicks of all ethnicities and ranging between the ages of about 19 and 35. Bigitup. But everyone had one thing in common: They were all serious fucking dancers and the realest shit when it comes to dancing to hard, grimy, dutty chunes. Serious.

So, this is the song we did choreography to. I had heard it before but it takes on a whole new meaning when you listen to the same 30 seconds of it over and over and over again until everyone is familiar enough with the moves for that particular spot in the track.

Our choreographer was bomb. He was a Haitian dude and, if you know dance, you know that they don't play when it comes to dancing. That's just common knowledge, really. He was so good that it was inspiring. I was like, "Man... I want to do it like he's doing it." And, 2 hours into the class, I kinda was.

So...This song. It's Pharell and Lil Jon (and the East Side Boyz,obviously) and it's called "Stick that Thang Out". The alternate title is "Skeezer". Hahaha. Luv.

I like Pharell's part at the beginning the best. His flow is a lot less... abrasive... than Lil Jon's. That being said, I never thought of Lil Jon as a crooner or someone who can perform romantic ballads. Let's be real here. But, Lil Jon does have some pretty good lyrics in his part that made me lol. He always sounds kinda psychotic, doesn't he? It's great. But if I can be real for a minute, what I'm mostly impressed with is Pharell's ability to rhyme "chinchilla". I mean... It's a pretty common word in hip hop lyrics. Status quo, really. But this is how he pulls it off:

"Skateboard P in the lime green gators

White chinchilla, million dollar neck glitter

Yeah I got security, see that gorilla"

Amazing.

And this is the part that I laughed at the most:

"I said shake it, dont' break it

It took ya momma 9 months to make it"

Also amazing:

"I like a fine ass bitch, a down ass bitch

A money gettin bitch, I love that shit"

Personally, I'd like to throw myself into each of those categories - 1) A fine ass bitch, 2) A down ass bitch and 3) A money gettin bitch. It's all about setting realistic goals in life, people.

Anyway, listen to the song. There's undoubtedly a likelihood that you'll hate it. But there's zero chance that you won't laugh at least once. So, really... What have you got to lose except for 3 minutes of your life that you'll never get back? A minor sacrifice.

press play.

2008-12-02T14:33:00.000-06:00

K… I don't want this blog to totally suck but I'm just so excited about this track that I can't wait to post it and I'm not sure if I can think of anything clever to say to go with it.

All I know is, this is what it makes me feel like:

… Being at a warehouse party in the middle of summer and everyone is sweaty, dancing and losing their minds because this beat is so hype. I mean… jesus… I can picture girls in velour short shorts (like, Three's Company style) shaking their asses while trying not to spill their gin and tonic down the front of their American Apparel cotton t-shirts. I'm actually dying right now as I'm writing this because I can see the entire thing unfolding in my mind's eye… High top sneakers, afros, gay blipsters magically wearing leather jackets despite it being 38 fucking degrees. The bass throbbing in everyone's bellies and some kid with really rich parents wearing a fedora is doing a two-step off in a corner somewhere because he's so high. $15 Jordache jeans from a used clothing bin at Value Village and $250 Michael Kors pumps… All at the same party. Because it's the epicentre of everything that was and ever could be cool in the history of the universe. **Check the pic below for an example of the aforementioned Michael Kors shoes... Really just an excuse for me to show off dem shoes.

I don't know how I could listen to this song without really gettin wil' the fuck out. Try listening to it and not completely losing your shit. Try sitting still. Try not taking some of your clothes off when you hear that bassline. Try not wishing you were at some rich hustler's pool party drinking wine coolers in July.

I've said this before, but I'll say it again… I wish I knew how to type a sigh… Or how to really articulate THIS feeling. I'll try… I just slumped in my chair a little, rolled my head back and to the left side slightly and took a breath so deep it made my ribcage feel tight. Do you know what that feels like?

It feels like an ache in my heart. And it's all this song's fault.

http://blip.fm/jodeci

p.s. Thanks, random guy on Twitter, for inadvertently introducing me to this track...

i have the medicine.

2008-11-27T14:51:00.000-06:00

I just discovered the cure for sadness. It's my Motown playlist.

I owe a lot of my happiness in life to Stevie, Curtis and James.

For example, I dare you to listen to either of these songs and stay angry or upset about anything. I dare you...

p.s. best picture ever...

l'amour et la violence.

2008-11-23T19:02:00.000-06:00

It's funny how time can turn both bad memories and good ones into painful things. The good ones are almost more difficult to look back on than the bad, because you realize those times are gone. I see my life in chapters; Each stage is an era. Things change so much in one year that I feel like a stranger to me. Until I realize that I am the impetus of that change. My life changes because I change.

And the power of music to pull you back to very specific times/locations is both mind-blowing and heart-breaking. It can render you speechless and make your throat feel tight, like you're trying to swallow past a lifetime of emotions. It can be too painful, or just painful enough. It can be impossible, paralyzing, suffocating. And wonderful.

Now that there's snow on the ground, I'm able to put enough distance between myself and this past summer in order to properly put it into perspective. Snow is like a blanket or distancing mechanism and stepping out into winter every morning is like taking a really deep breath and filling your lungs with a stinging coldness or being open-handed slapped on the face. It feels like clarity. And that hurts sometimes.

There is a lot of music that defined my summer months. But there is one song in particular that I feel the need to talk about. Listen:

http://hypem.com/track/631737

I heard it for the first time in the spring, long before I saw the non-remix version performed at Osheaga in Montreal in August.

http://hypem.com/track/601907

But that was the moment where it really coalesced and became something. The minute I saw Sébastien Tellier on stage, I knew it was going to be... profound. I mean... the guy looks like Jesus. And, I discovered after-the-fact that him and I have more in common than I originally thought. There's a picture of him on a boat. I was like, "Hey! I have a picture of me like that too!" Clearly, it was meant-to-be. Check it out:

Twins, right? I mean, how can you deny the similarities?? You'd have to be crazy. Or something.

Anyway, when I heard him perform this song live, I was... drunk. But not only that. I was satisfied. That singular moment captured the days and nights that had spilled and melted into one another to become my entire summer.

It was all of the heat rising off of city streets, all of the days spent waist-deep in pools, bare legs, bare feet, beads of sweat forming on exposed and tanned belly, freckles, banana popsicles melting down my arm and making my hands sticky until I sucked the skin clean again with an eager and pink tongue, drinking wine in Parc LaFontaine out of plastic cups, drinking wine in a backyard surrounded by other backyards on rue De Lorimier straight out of the bottle, on one of the hottest nights I can remember. Dagwoods sandwiches at midnight at Place des Arts watching some Gérard Depardieu film on a giant screen and feeling like life couldn't possibly get any Frencher than that. Or my very first Dagwood's (the sandwich that changed my life) on Île Notre-Dame, sitting cross-legged in the grass. Fire escapes and wrought-iron spiral staircases. Pineapples. Really, seriously delicious cheese. Afternoon naps. Real bagels. Real love.

So, that weekend... the Osheaga weekend... was really a pretty nice overview of what I lived every day of my summer, in some form or another. I can remember how much I laughed that weekend but can't begin to describe it to you. It looked a little bit like this, I guess:

And maybe a little bit like this:

Oh, and this was me on my way back from the bathroom (aka, the bushes because I couldn't wait and the line-up was too long and the floors were too dirty and there wasn't any T.P. anyway... Ahh, the joys of outdoor festivals).

And this was Sébastien Tellier on stage:

And this is the picture I took:

when he played 'Divine'.

Et ça c'est la photo que j'ai pris à la fin de la soirée:

And these are just the kinds of things you hold onto. Because they made you so happy that they hurt.

Et si j’avais pu changer quelque chose, je ne suis pas certain que je le ferais. La fin n'est pas toujours ce que nous voulions qu'elle soit, mais parfois, le voyage vaut plus qu'on ne pouvait se l’imaginer.

Fin.

do what you can what you can for i and i.

2008-11-21T10:38:00.000-06:00

I was just at work listening to a playlist on bigupradio.com. I've heard it said that the best music to listen to while studying or reading/researching is dub because the beat is repetitive and mathematical. I haven't found any real evidence to back this up. But, speaking of backing things up, I just mostly listen to it for the riddims.

So, I'm working away and sort of half-listening to the music from my headphones and then this track comes on that made me stop everything I was doing and just sit… perfectly still for a minute. It's a song by Burning Spear. I heard it for the first time about 6 years ago, or however long ago it was that my sister L.A. and her bf (now husband) Nicolas were living on Manning Ave. in Toronto. I loved it then and love it even more now because it reminds me of riding my bike over to their house when Zeek was still a kitten and I'd wrap him in a blanket and put him in my bike basket.

I've been searching for it forever. I didn't know what it was called and you can't really do a google search for a dub song with the lyrics "I and I and I and I and I" …

So, anyway… Here it is:

skeet, skeet, skeet.

2008-11-14T14:12:00.000-06:00

Anyone who knows me is well aware of my back injury at the beginning of October. It happened right after I had that diseased-sounding cough that felt like death. Ahhh… memories.

Anyway, I think the reason why I fucked my back so badly is because the muscles were all sore from coughing nonstop and I, for the same idiot reasons that motivate me to do all the other dumb shit I do, decided it'd be a brilliant idea to go for a run on Churchill Ave. You know that crazy hill the goes from Dovercourt to Ossington? Well, I like to sprint up it a couple dozen times.

So, everytime I started a sprint, I'd get this little stabbing pain in my lower back. Nothing too serious. Until later. Then it got serious nice and quick.

The point of me writing all of this is to direct you, in the most convoluted way possible, to the following song:

This is what I was listening to while doing the sprint of death-and-permanent-back-ache. I still like the track. I can imagine myself in the music video... sans aching back, of course. Not super sexy to be all slouched over and coughing. At least not where I'm from.

And, while we're on the subject of grimy chunes… Here's another from Ed Rec Vol III which I highly suggest you listen to from beginning to end:

http://hypem.com/track/628567

I heart Spank Rock. It sounds like the soundtrack to some really dirty video game. And that, my friends, is a game I want to live, breathe and master.

it was friday night and i was feelin' aaaaiiiight.

2008-11-03T13:36:00.000-06:00

There are very few people in the world that I can say confidently have never disappointed me. But there's one guy who has always been solid, although not always on the radar, but consistent in his delivery. I'm talking about Ludacris. There was one line that really won me over back in 2005:

"I used to think that it was way too cold
Til I went to Canada and saw some beautiful hoes"

And now, I'm equally as impressed with his single featuring T-Pain, One More Drink. The first time I heard it, I laughed for the entire 3:43. And the second time I listened to it, I realized there was something about the beat that reminded me a little bit of Zelda. Remember that game? It was bomb. And the third time I listened to it, I discovered how much I can relate. And the fourth time, I was like "Yesssss….." Anyway… I luv this track. It's funny and a little sexy still but mostly just ridiculous. Ludicrous, even. If you're in the mood to be entertained, listen:

Thanks, Mr. Dick, for inadvertently turning me on to this track. And for showing me that things actually do exist beyond Scarborough. Good things.

scaring my pants off is one way to get them off.

2008-10-21T08:17:00.000-06:00

Since Halloween is coming up, I'm starting to get in the mood to watch some scary movies. And it's not just Halloween that's putting me in the mood... It's something about the season. It gets dark earlier, trees start to lose their leaves. And when the trees are bare, their empty branches stretch out like icy fingers. Wind blows, the trees sway and the icy fingers caress the window panes. The leaves that have abandoned the trees and left them with the appearance of horrendously disfigured widows whip around in unpredictable circles on the grass, threatening to grab at ankles walking past. It gives me shivers. And, personally, I prefer not to think of it as the days getting shorter. I'd rather think of it as the nights getting longer... It's just creepier that way.

But I'm way off topic. I wanted to talk about films... of the horror genre. For whatever reason, I've always been a fan. I love being scared. The feeling is... raw. Intense. Real. So, I started to reflect on some of my all-time faves and came up with this list. These are in no particular order. I tried to rank them in terms of scariness but I just couldn't do it. They're all special in their own unique ways:

1) Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974) - The original one directed by Tobe Hooper. I think I got my mom to rent it for me when I was about 12 and she obviously didn't really know what it was all about or she never would have let me watch it. It was the first real horror film I ever saw. I couldn't even try to describe or replicate the feeling. A tingling panic. I sat with my mouth wide open, speechless, in utter disbelief that this film had been made by someone. I didn't sleep for two nights afterwards and I've never looked at a butcher's coat in the same way.

2) The Shining (1980) - I think it's mostly the performances that really affected me. And I've heard stories about how Kubrick successfully pulled these performances out of his cast. If the stories are true, the guy was a real dick. But most geniuses are. And Jack Nicholson will always be creepy. Even in The Bucket List, for god's sake. It's his eyebrows...

3) Freaks (1932) - For all of you serious horror fans, you already know this one. The cast was comprised entirely of real circus "freaks". In a broad sense, it deals with the mistreatment of the disfigured and marginalized members of society. It culminates in an epic scene where the "freaks" rise up against their oppressors. Although, to be fair, one could see this also as an exploitation of these so-called freaks. Using their disfigurements as a horrific climax... albeit a very successful one.

4) Event Horizon - Where do I even start with this? I appreciate it on so many levels. I saw the film before I had really tried to wrap my head around the actual concept. Basically, it's the gravitational field of a black hole which creates an area where nothing can escape providing it is incapable of traveling faster than the speed of light. That concept, regardless of the film, is pants-shittingly scary enough. Stephen Hawkings said, "God abhors a naked singularity"... meaning that no one outside the event horizon is capable of witnessing the breakdown of classical physics (ie. reality) inside a black hole. Bottom line: conceptually scary-as-fuck.

5) Eraserhead (1977) - What can I say? David Lynch has some issues. And to be perfectly upfront, I found Blue Velvet nearly as disturbing. But I think Eraserhead's portrayal of urban slums and the decline of civilization in general was really the most disturbing part. So progressive and visionary for its time, really. And the soundtrack composed nearly entirely of mechanical sounds... Unsettling, to say the least. I wonder who the foley artists were... I'm gonna have to IMDB that shit as soon as I'm done writing this.

6) Videodrome (1983) - God I love David Cronenberg. And there's something about what he does that is distinctly Canadian and I love that. Perhaps the most frightening/visionary aspect of this film is that communication takes place exclusively via video recordings. On the one hand, it makes it incredibly cold and devoid of human association but, on the other hand... Does this sound familiar at all to you? Here... I'll help you out. What's the best way to spread the word about Jihad or civilian uprisings such as the Zapatista movement in Central America? Televise that shit. Put it on YouTube. Get it out there by employing user-generated media outlets. The power is in the hands of the have-nots, all of a sudden. Scary, isn't it? Combined with violent hallucinations of the protagonist, this makes for a pretty fucked up piece of cinematic gold.

7) Willy Wonka & The Chocolate Factory (1971) - I don't care what anybody says... This, in my opinion, qualifies as a horror film. I mean... Wonkavision? Oompa Loompas? WTF?! It really drives home the idea that we all eventually get punished for succumbing to temptation. Brutally and unforgivingly.

8) Delicatessen (1991) - We all know that French people are a bit... different. And I'm talking specifically about French people from France. They enjoy clowns and mimes, for heaven's sake. Who enjoys that? If by "enjoy" you mean "get the crap scared out of you", then yes. The film is post-apocalyptic, which appeals to me on so many levels. The only way to survive is to harvest ripe and juicy human beings to slaughter and consume. And, wouldn't you know it... A lone wanderer comes along and gets thrust right in the middle of the insanity. His profession? A circus clown. See? I told you. Jeunet & Caro do a brilliant job of showing the humour and absurdity of the situation, despite the grave subject matter. And it's just beautiful to watch. Stunning, actually. If you haven't seen it... see it. This film is a gem.

You can tell by the trailer how dark and bizarre it is. Also, how beautifully filmed and scored:

9) Seven (1995) - I generally scoff at horror films made after the late 80s. But, I have to admit, this film was brilliantly crafted. Psychological. Intense. The idea of ritualistic murders chills me to the very centre of my being. It's like when I watched a documentary about John Wayne Gacy and Jeffrey Dahmer... You just wonder what level of fucked-upedness needs to be attained before something like this is possible. Obviously, the real life scenarios are more disturbing. But I have to give this film credit for really tapping into that kind of chaos/meticulous order. Gruesome. And no happy ending, which I like. (As a side note, I'll just include Silence of the Lambs and Saw under this umbrella as well. All three dealt with insanity on an incomparable scale, to varying degrees.)

10) Psycho (1960) - Alfred Hitchcock has been scaring the pants off of me since I was a child. The thing is... The premises of his films aren't entirely unrealistic. They're quite plausible, in fact. Except maybe The Birds... But I've always been terrified to death of birds so I'll let that one go. The issues that Norman has with his mother... I mean, wow... That'd be enough to end a first date for sure. It's just creepy. Remember the montage of the stuffed birds in the hotel? They looked like they were closing in... ready to attack. I felt claustrophobic. I should also give mention to Rear Window (1954) which is one of my favourite films of all time... Not just in the horror genre. I swear that not a single other movie has kept me on the edge of my seat the way this one did. I felt sweaty and panicked. And part of the reason was because Hitchcock built up the character of the protagonist so strongly before anything actually went down. I genuinely wanted James Stewart's character to be alright at the end of it all. Hitchcock was really a master at this genre. I think we can all agree on the truth of this statement.

11) Creepshow (1982) - This was another one of my firsts. And I'm not sure if it'd even be scary anymore if I watched it now. It was kind of... campy, I think. But disturbing enough for a fresh young mind. It was so Stephen King. I'll never forget the most notorious line that became a fixture with me and my sisters every time one of our birthdays came around (or any occasion that warranted a cake, really): "Where's my cake Bedelia? I want my cake you dirty bitch!" Ohh... what a bunch of pleasant little girls we must have been.

So, there you have it. If there are any of these that you haven't seen, I strongly suggest setting aside some time to watch them. And, be prepared for some potentially sleepless nights. They're scary for real. Honourable mention goes to The Ring... The original Korean one. Something about an undead child in a white, flowing gown crawling out of a well really gets to me. Go figure.

If you have time, watch these:

baby, so disco.

2008-10-17T12:47:00.000-06:00

Ever heard a song for the very first time and feel like you know it already? Like you've heard it a million times before and would willingly listen to it a million more times for the simple fact that it's so fucking cool? Well… this is one of those songs for me. I'm listening to it right now, in fact. And doing a really subtle back-and-forth bum shake in my chair at work. Inappropriate? Maybe. Necessary? Most definitely.

Thank you, Sylvain… a million times over for sending this my way. Je suis tellement contente et, comme t'as dit, c'est le genre de lyrics que j'aime bien. Mais, dans ce cas ici, c'est surtout the beat. ;)

Walter Meego - Forever (Van She Tech Remix)

souled out.

2008-09-30T14:05:00.000-06:00

My ears (and my heart) are still ringing. What a fucking show. I can't believe it. Never in my life have I had so much fun on a Monday night. Never in my life have I seen a crowd as hype and as into it. It was basically just a sea of hotness and style. Leather jackets, wool hats, cashmere scraves, nudie jeans, high top sneakers. Hotness. Oh, and I saw a guy wearing a shirt that said "I want a Claire Huxtable" which prompted a lengthy discussion between myself and Ralph about the possibility of making t-shirts that say "Jammin' on the one".

I should start though by telling the story of my unfortunate new nickname… I was walking up to the venue in some knee-high boots and short shorts and there were three gross ticket scalpers standing there and they started saying things that I was decidedly choosing not to hear. I kept walking and then I heard one of them say, "Hey miss… You dropped something." Nice try, asshole. I thought I was in the clear until I heard one of them call me… wait for it… Puss'n'Boots. Ew gross! What a dirt…

Anyhow, I digress…

The show. The show was astounding. Stellar. Mind-blowing. Knee-weakening. Collar-popping. Booty-rocking. N.E.R.D. got the crowd so wild that I wasn't sure Common would be able to top it. But when he came on stage…. I mean… Wow. To hear him singing the lyrics to Come Close to Me… "Jealousy, we gotta swallow it, Your heart and mind, baby, follow it…" It made me shivery all over. What a man.

I was proud of Toronto. The energy was there. It made me feel like a part of something good. The dj spinning between acts kept the crowd on point with some new shit and some old shit. Everyone really lost it when this came on:

And Simon Says was a hit, too. Always.

Here's a few short (and low-quality) vids from the show:

Oh, and I don't have a vid from them playing this at the show, but I was super super glad that N.E.R.D. decided to play this:

Thanks again Ralph. And let's get started on those t-shirts... ;)

or, maybe...

2008-09-26T13:32:00.000-06:00

... depending on the style and overall aesthetic of the biopic and the areas of my life it was focused on, my end credits song might also be this:

It starts off slow but wait til you get to 1:52... Shit gets crazy.

tropicana.

2008-09-26T12:49:00.000-06:00

If someone made a biopic about you, what music would you choose for the end credits? Also, why do I think about things like this??? If you know the answer, please enlighten me.

Mine would be Tropicana by Ratatat. Particularly starting at 1:16. And, at 2:49 I would surely be walking off into the sunset. Maybe hand in hand with someone. Maybe not.

Please someone tell me that they think about stupid shit like this too. Please legitimize my eccentricity (which we all know is really just a euphemism for exceptional weirdness and loserdom.)

street radio for unsung heroes.

2008-09-25T13:15:00.000-06:00

I'm finding comfort in music. I always have. But not the same old tracks I've been listening to… Those are just graveyards of memories. It's time for some new shit.

Thank you to Robin for re-introducing me to The Band and Van Morrisson. (And thank you for the story about the crazy old drunk dude who flicked his cigarette at a girl whose enormously oversized hipster glasses deflected the flame. Damn… I knew those were somehow fashion-over-function. Thank god they had lenses in them...)

But there's one song in particular that I heard for the first time on Monday that really grabbed me, pulled me close, pressed up against me, touched its fingertips to the back of my neck until I closed my eyes...

It makes me want to go to Chicago. It makes me want to care about something and wear a really cool hat. It makes me want to sit on staircases in summer and drink wine out of plastic cups. It makes me want to tour on a low-rider bike in short shorts through city streets while the sun is setting over skyrises. It makes me want to feel butterflies in my stomach while kissing, softly, syrupy, waist deep in swimming pools after dark and be in love. With everything.

"... and that haunted me, all the way home."

2008-09-24T07:13:00.000-06:00

jesus. i mean... kanye. i don't even know what to say except listen. it's so good, it makes my throat feel tight.

http://hypem.com/track/641524

gregory hines drives cabs in the afterlife.

2008-09-22T08:54:00.000-06:00

My cab driver last night looked exactly like Gregory Hines. He was listening to The Drifters and asked if I minded. I told him of course I didn’t mind and he turned it up a bit. The song that was playing was Save the Last Dance for Me.

On the precipice of the first day of Fall, College Street was filled with couples, arms around each other for warmth, tiny wisps of breath curling into the air and wool sweaters. Some leaves had already fallen, direction-less, to the ground. I could see lights on in houses and families having dinner inside, children snuggling up on couches with dad in an attempt to stretch their established bedtimes to the brink of acceptability. People stopped at shop windows and admiring things inside, talking and gesturing, maybe imagining how things would fit into their own homes, wardrobes and lives. Pulling their sweaters more tightly around themselves, slowly strolling after dinner.

I’ve been hating on Toronto. I’ve said some things I shouldn’t have. And maybe I overreacted when Toronto was really only giving me my fair share of drama and strife that we all need a healthy dose of sometimes to remind us how to enjoy our lives. And since this will surely be my last year in this city that has loved me, beat me down, changed me, made me cry, gave me the best times of my life… Maybe I should give it one last go and really enjoy everything it has to offer me. I want to go to the Zoo. And I’ve never been up the CN Tower… in all 9 years that I’ve been here, if you can believe that. I want to go to the Island on an afternoon in Fall and skate at Nathan Phillips Square in Winter. I want to go to so many basketball games and heckle Lebron James when he’s in town and cheer for Jamario Moon and eat giant pretzels. I want to eat dinner at Le Papillon when it’s snowing outside. I want to buy that vintage dress from a shop window on Ossington that's been on my mind for the last two months.

So, maybe Toronto is sort of like my last dance. My pseudo-home. My soon-to-be past home that I think about sometimes and get teary-eyed. The boyfriend that I’ll be leaving for something better, at some point, although I have no idea right now what that might be. The possibilities, I suppose, are endless.

But don’t forget who’s taking you home,
Or in whose arms you’re gonna be,
So darling, save the last dance for me.

casual encounters.

2008-09-15T20:29:00.000-06:00

Wow... I've been looking for apartments on Craigslist for pretty much the entire summer and I've come across some weird shit but this one pretty much takes the cake, as far as I'm concerned.

Check it out (p.s. I didn't make this up... This is real. As imaginative as I am, I don't think I could have ever dreamed up something this awesome...)

$300 Young Nudist Guy! Looking to share my 1bdroom place with! (Yonge & College)
Reply to: hous-842168696@craigslist.org [?]
Date: 2008-09-15, 7:14PM EDT

Looking to meet nice guy to share open space apt with me... 1bdroom share all!
I am single guy fun outgoing guy 28yrs love to have fun...quiet... easy going openminded!
Like nudity as I am most of the time at home...share all...
Lets meet have fun nude together
Dwntwn location close to subway...
1bdrm share all with me....open style....
Lets have fun living together!

* Location: Yonge & College
* it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

PostingID: 842168696

wtf?!

So... This prompted me out of some bizarre and morbid curiosity to check out some other postings in some of the other categories...

This one was under "Casual Encounters"... btw... what the fuck is a JO buddy? Am I totally clueless? Like, is this very common slang and I'm just not down enough? If you know... seriously... please tell me...

Looking for a JO Buddy - m4m - 24 (Etobicoke)
Reply to: pers-842361104@craigslist.org [?]
Date: 2008-09-15, 9:56PM EDT

24 m curious looking for a buddy to JO with and maybe a little more, we'll see where it goes lol...please be between the ages of 18-25...ur pic gets mine...thanks

* Location: Etobicoke
* it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

PostingID: 842361104

HAHAHAHahahahaha... As I was copy & pasting that delicious selection of text, lying here on Maggie's couch, I asked her, "Do you have any idea what a JO buddy is?" And she replied, very casually, "Yeah... A jerk off buddy." Like as if we should all know that or something. LOL. Amazing.

Here's another one:

Any girls want to watch some star trek and screw tonight? - m4w - 25 (Downtown)
Reply to: pers-842359428@craigslist.org [?]
Date: 2008-09-15, 9:55PM EDT

Any girls want to hang out, watch some TV, have a few drinks, then have a good time? I have a well kept nice place downtown and I'm actually normal.

Reply back and we can trade pic 4 pic.

* Location: Downtown
* it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

PostingID: 842359428

Not gonna lie... was slightly tempted by this one.

The absolute best one I saw... I think all I need to copy & paste is the title:

seeking bj - 34 - (GTA)

Aren't we all buddy? I mean... Golly. Tell me something I don't already know.

guilty pleasures.

2008-09-12T13:09:00.000-06:00

Here are some things that I like... don't judge me.

1) Making lists about things that I like. Or things that I hate. I just really like making lists.

2) Songs by 90’s pop divas. I like to put high heels on and use my hair brush as a makeshift microphone and crank these chunes and sing… which is kind of bad now that I live on the first floor of a building and perpetually forget to close my blinds. Oh, and thanks Sylvain for the link to the 702 vid that had the embed code disabled that I ended up having to find myself on another website. ;)

3) Buying nail polish… especially colours that I already have that I’ve forgotten about because they’re buried in some basket somewhere under hundreds of other bottles of nail polish.

4) Making up words and saying them a lot and with conviction so that other people start using the word because they think it’s legit.

5) Convincing people that I’m the heiress to the Christie cookie fortune and that Rainbow Chips Ahoy were my idea.

6) Board games. The unintelligent ones like Operation and Connect Four. I like playing against children and beating them and then going “In yo face!” and doing some kind of victory dance until they cry. Remember that game with the penguins and the mountain and the dragon and you had to collect eggs? What the hell game was that? If you see it, buy it for me and I’ll reimbourse you.

7) Watching people fall… especially old people and children. Or people carrying things… like hot coffee.

8) Memorizing shitty rap lyrics. I don’t even know how to justify this one so I won’t bother trying. Also, pretty much any song by Usher... I mean... this really confuses me.

9) Home surgeries.

10) Cheating at Trivial Pursuit.

Dear Humanity,

2008-09-08T06:46:00.000-06:00

Please stop doing these things:

1) Referring to a night out as "getting your drink on".

2) Initiating complicated "dude" handshakes.

3) Wearing visors backwards... or wearing visors at all. Period. They also look terrible on dogs, fyi.

4) Inventing words like “synergy” and using them in office environments to sound smarter and more like a “team player”.

5) Using the term "team player".

6) Spiking your hair straight up so that it looks crusty and dangerous - especially if you have blonde highlights that look like a bird shit on your head repeatedly.

7) Wearing fake Gucci shit or carrying fake LV handbags. Nobody cares anymore.

8) Using the word "mojo" in any context or under any circumstances.

9) Crushing beer cans with your forehead or biceps... Unless it's me who's doing it in which case, it's cool.

10) Wearing velcro sandals. Unless you're 3 years old or ride the short bus.