You hoo! Mr Fireman! I'm over here! Put me out with your hose!

Q got a cast iron grill pan for his birthday a while back. We hadn't had a chance to use it yet so we decided to try it last night. Q had bought some huge pork chops (over an inch thick) just before Christmas so we figured they'd be a good choice. "Get the pan nice and hot" he says. "Cast iron needs a lot of heat" he says. So that's what I do. Turn the burner on and leave it for a few minutes.

When everything is good and ready, he takes them out of the marinade and sets them on the grill. That's when things started going downhill. They started smoking - a lot. We live in an apartment so there's no hood over the stove, the smoke just goes everywhere. I run around the place opening all the windows and balcony door in an effort to stop the inevitable, but it was of no use. The smoke alarm went off.

Now, just to give you a little background, we have 2 different smoke alarms in our place. One belongs to the building, and one is attached to our security system. It was the security one that went off. Q reached up and took it off the ceiling and I proceeded to remove the batteries. Then I turned off the alarm. A few minutes later the phone rings, "Hi this is Chubb security, I see here that your fire alarm has gone off." I explain to him that we were cooking food and it sort of got out of hand, but everything is under control. Then he says "Ok, so should I call the fire department and tell them that it's a false alarm??"

"The fire department?" I look at Q.

"They're on their way now. Should I tell them it's a false alarm?"

"WHAT!!!!!! They're coming now?" Oh shit, "uh ya, please tell them it's a false alarm." Nice to know they're promtp. At this point Q is heading out the door to meet them out front. At first I thought is was so nice of him to do that, then I realized it was just an excuse to go down and see if there are any hot firemen. Bastard!

Anyways he met the super and a fireman downstairs and straightened everything out. Turns out the fire department was led to believe it was a panel alarm (not a private one) and consequently had dispatched 4 trucks in total. oops. Only one made it initially so thankfully it prevented other firemen from wasting their time.

In the end everything worked out and we ended up with some very delicious chopped pig for dinner. I think we'll just put the pan away until we have a house with a properly ventilated stove. Until then, George Foreman it is.

If Benny Hill made The Passion of the Christ

It would have been like this.

Would you like some gay with that?

The other day Q and I decided to stop in the local flower shop to get some, well, flowers for the house. Actually, it was his idea.

"What kind of flowers were you thinking of?" I asked.

"I don't know," he replies "you're the artsy gay one who bought those vases in the first place."

"Really?" I shot back, "Well I wasn't the one talking the whole way down here about the fabulous fruit platters I used to make when throwing a party. All I remember thinking while you were talking was, that is the gayest thing I've ever heard. Fag."

"Whatever" was all he could come back with.

So I point to a bunch. "What about these?" I ask.

"Oh, you mean (insert name of flower here). Those are nice."

I begin to chuckle and select another bunch. "Do you like these ones?"

"Yeah, those (insert name of flower here) are nice too."

At that point I break out laughing at the man who was calling me gay, yet rhyming off the names of all the flowers in the shop. At that point the irony hits him.

"Hey! I can't help it! I used to work in my uncle's flower shop as a kid."

"Ya, right. How about we get some of these?"

"Those (insert name of flower here) are - goddamnit! Just grab them and let's go!"


I win.

Wow! You're 8!

Happy Birthday to Snooze.
Happy Birthday to Snooze.
Try not to drink too much boo-ooze.
Happy Birthday to Snooze!

So far so good.

Ok, so my holidays haven't been as bad as I was dreading. Had a nice time yesterday with my side of the family. Kids were pretty well behaved, and I just steered clear of most of them anyways, except the ones I liked. It was so cute, my grandmother knitted me a pair of slippers. I haven't had those since I was a kid. She even gave me a second pair for Q.

I was horsing around with my cousin after dinner. She was wearing a full length skirt which had a slit in the bottom that I kept sticking my foot in just to piss her off. She turned around and said "Get out of my skirt!" and then proceed to say in front of my father "Bet you don't hear that too often huh?" I was thinking it, she said it. My poor dad. He probably just pretended that he hadn't heard a thing. My parents have never treated me different since coming out, and they absolutely love Q, but it's just one of those things that is never discussed. I thought it was hilarious.

After dinner we went back to my sister's and did our gift exchange since I wasn't coming back down again today. I totally spoiled my niece Jessica. One of the things I got her was a whole bunch of plastic food (for the kitchen set she would be getting later) and a toy microwave. She just loved it. She played with it all night. Putting food in, pushing the buttons, watching the food turn for a few seconds and then beeping when it was done. So cute cute cute.

I did have an odd moment though when it seemed like things came full circle. When I was a kid I used to secretly love playing with Barbies. I'd play with my sister's when i could, and also whenever I played with my cousin. So last night Jessica opened a gift (not from me) and it was the Mary Kate and Oshley Olsen dolls. She then proceeded to sit on the couch with me and wanted me to help her dress and undress the dolls. Oh, so now it's ok for me to play with dolls, but it wasn't back then. One thing about those goddamn dolls though is that the clothes are skin tight. It was very hard for me to get the pants on and off - insert jokes here -, I can't imagine how a 3 year old could do it. What a gay uncle.

And yes, my mother loved the Kitchen Aid mixer I picked out for her and my dad loved the chainsaw that my sister and husband picked out for him. It's a gay stereotype Christmas!

Delerious

I just realized that I was wrapping presents while whistling along to The Hustle.

God help me.

Vindication

Back in July I bitched about staff at Tim Horton's getting my drink mixed up. I usually get the green tea, which is in a green box, but unfortunatley the peppermint tea also comes in similar green packaging. Consequently every once in a while an employee won't be paying attention and will give me the wrong one. I drink tea in place of coffee, so I'm less than thrilled in the mornings when I don't get what I want (need).

So I took it upon myself to bitch, as I love to do. I emailed their customer service and complained over the phone that they should make the packaging more distinct.

So imagine my surprise and satisfaction last week when I watched the person (as I always do now) reach for my tea, and saw them take it out of a brand new, clearly labelled box. I've since seen it in many different Tim Hortons across the city and it's the only one that's changed.

See? Bitching does work. And yes, I take 100% credit.

'Tis the Season

Merry Fucking Christmas Everyone. Can't wait till it's over.

I feel it can best be summed up with a saying I saw on a t-shirt this morning:

Jesus is the reason for the season!!


Let me rephrase that - a t-shirt I saw someone wearing.

I Think I Have a Problem

On Friday afternoon we had our Christmas lunch followed by a number of hours spent drinking martinis at The Four Seasons Hotel. Needless to say, after 6 martinis or something (not including the drinks at lunch) I was pretty hammered by the time I got home. As the night wore on I began to feel sicker and sicker due to the fact that I had mixed alcohol by having a couple of obligatory glasses of wine with my food. Everyone knows that mixing alcohol is bad bad bad. So at the end of the night I layed in bed, moaning and groaning and not knowing if I was going to throw up or not until I eventually passed out.

Saturday morning I woke at 8:00am only to find myself feeling refreshed, renewed and like I had got the best sleep in my life. I even got up and into the shower before Q got out of bed. That just never happens. It's always Q getting up, showering, then dragging my sorry ass out of bed, down the hall, and throwing me into the shower. That morning he was looking at me like I'd been possessed or replaced by a clone in the middle of the night.

Like I said, it had been weeks since I'd woken up feeling that fantastic and ready to take on the day. In fact the last time was after my last Christmas party where I indulged in countless martinis all night long. The next morning - boom - awake, happy, and ready to go. Same thing again a few weeks before that. No hangover - just the opposite. Also, the only other time that happens is after I go for acupunture.

Great, I thought, all I need to do is drink copious amounts of vodka until I pass out every night and stick myself with needles and I'll the most productive person ever!! However, after stockpiling the spare room with cases of Belvedere and going out to the free needle clinics pretending to be a junkie with a really, really, bad habit, it dawned on me that maybe something else was going on.

A collegue of mine suffers from sleep apnea (where you stop breathing multiple times throughout the night). In a drunken conversation on Friday, I discovered that I have many of the same symptoms - excessive snoring (I could wake the dead), night sweats, memory loss (some days it's really bad), a general feeling of lethargy all the time, low energy and never feeling rested in the morning even after a full night's sleep.

The only time I don't have these symptoms is after I get acupuncture for the night sweats, or after heavy drinking. My theory is both of these things somehow trigger my body into not relaxing the soft palette at the back of my mouth, and consequently not obstructing my breathing. It's a long shot, but it's the only thing I can think of.

Regardless, I'm going to make an appointment to get it checked out. Looks like I'll have to sleep overnight in a clinic so they can observe my patterns. I wonder if they'll let me bring porn in if I get bored? Or perhaps a conjugal visit by Q? It would be kind of hot with the cameras and people watching and all.

Was that politically incorrect?

Last night there was a knock on the door. I answered it to find a Friend of Jack Layton's wondering if I would be giving my support for the election. I figured what the hell. The Liberals are corrupt, the Tories want to take away my right to get married, and the NDP have been very vocal about protecting gay rights. Plus he's the MP for my riding anyways and looks to be doing a good job as far as I can tell.

Anyways, after checking off the little box on his piece of paper, he looks down at the name under mine and says "And what about Moustaff?"

WHO!!!!????

Umm, Moustaff ACHkbelchisblaghhck. (or whatever the hell his last name is)

"Oh," I replied, "You mean the terrorist that I'm hiding in the closet. He's not home right now."

At that point Jack's friend got the hint, snickered a little bit, and went on his way. I closed the door, turned around and found Q with a look of utter shock on his face.

Oops - Inside voice. Got to remember to use the inside voice.

Barbie's disabled friend

I was going through some old files from my old computer yesterday (aka: Jackpot! I haven't seen this porn in ages!) and I came across the Wheelchair Rebecca video. I used to love watching that. You get to learn how Barbie's special friend ended up in her wheelchair.

Again, I wouldn't advise it at work unless you can close the office door, and turn the volume down real low.

Pointing out the obvious

This is a book cover for some publication belonging to those junior girl guides otherwise known as Brownies.

What they don't tell you is the shirt the girl in the front is wearing says "Whities."

The Chinese book for Yellowies comes out next month.

Mahna mahna ..... de doo de do do

Here is the original muppet video in all its glory. I seem to remember Dan being obsessed with this a while back.

Sticks in your head slightly longer than Barbie Girl or anything by Ace of Base.

Dear Santa Pt 2

They actually sell these at Amazon!!

I'm adding it to my wish list right away, seeing as my old one wore out. I wonder if it connects to an ipod too?

I'm not dead yet!

Yeah I know I haven't been updating for a while. Been busy. In the meantime here's a blog written by some guy who fantasizes about his own suicide and puts up nude pictures of himself feinging death. Something tells me he finds it very, umm, "exciting".

I wonder who takes the pictures?

Definitely NSFW.

Moving on up

Q and I went looking at condos on the weekend. Just for fun. We aren't looking at moving yet, but I doubt I'll be in the same apt this time next year. I have a habit of moving every 18 months or so. Just call me the Gypsy Queen.

We looked at a new building that's going up in Yorkville. They only had a few very expensive units left, one of which was a 4000 sq ft Penthouse on the top floor. It was selling for a measly $2,000,000. The agent then proceeded to tell us that the taxes were $21,000 per year, and the maintenance fees were $0.40 per foot. All totaled, if you had the money for the place and paid for it up front with no mortgage, it would still cost you over $40,000 per year + hydro, cable, phone, internet to carry the place.

I still don't understand why it hasn't sold.

I think I've been spammed

Last week I posted this quote from Margaret Cho about George Bush :

I just think he's just fucked. He's so fucked. I want to send him some poppers and Crisco.

Much to my surprise, I got the following comment:

Cool blog! I was just reading about your mention of poppers. I'm a huge poppers fan!

Thought you and your readers would be interested in some fantastic poppers information. Anyone who uses poppers should check these out:

http://www.I wont contribute to spam/
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Hope all this is helpful and of interest.

Keep up the good work!
Stephen Caliph

I was a little taken aback and so I visited Stephen's "website." For one minute, just one split second, I thought it was real and some guy had devoted a whole blog to poppers and their history!! It was hilarious. In fact it's still worth checking out just for a laugh. Just go to http://stone2005 dot typepad dot com. It's a must read with lines like:

"Have you ever wondered where the good old poppers from the ‘70s went? The ones that never gave you a headache, stayed fresher longer, and packed far more punch?"

Why in fact I was just asking myself that the other day.

You can read the original comment with all the links here. It's so outrageous that I just can't bring myself to delete it. Of course now I will probably get deluged with spam for poppers.

While I'm on the subject, I remember the time Psycho and I were at my parent's and my mother was making some appetizers before dinner. She goes downstairs to get something out of the freezer and returns with a box with the word "Poppers" written across in big red letters. We almost fell over in laughter. Of course they were jalepeno poppers, but just the sheer obliviousness as to what she was holding was too much.

Now I understand that poppers have their place in the world. I mean, how else are you going to shove that pylon up your ass? I've tried it a few times, but the residual headache isn't worth the 30 second high acheived. I don't understand why they are so much fun on the dance floor either. There's nothing worse than trying to enjoy yourself while this cloud hangs above the crowd from the idiot passing a rag around to his friends. It might as well be glue.

However, the one thing that I will untimately never understand happened to me a few years ago. I was at the first Folsom Fair North party in Toronto. It was held in a parking lot and had a few booths, food, beer garden, dance area, and of course porta-potties. I was waiting in line for one of said potties, when I see the guy ahead of me take a huge huff from a small bottle. Then he turns to me and says "Want some poppers?" I politely declined. Seriously, how can sniffing amyl nitrates while waiting in line for the bathroom be fun? How is that even remotely enjoyable?? Maybe it's to cut back on the smell, or maybe he had a dirty public toilet fetish. I don't know. All I know is that he went in by himself and came out by himself so he was left to his own devices the entire time. For all I know he was unbelievably constipated and had to loosen his ass so he could reach in and scoop out his shit by hand. It only makes sense.

Open for business

I just opened my new store at www.cafepress.com/normlr.

This is just my first try. I'll be going through a lot of revisions in the next few weeks/months.

Buy a mousepad!

Update:

Buy a t-shirt!!

You're Motorin'........What's your price for flight??

I don't know why but I couldn't stop listening to Sister Christian on the weekend. I downloaded the soundtracks for Grand Theft Auto and I was hooked when it came on.

Felt like I should have been back home in a pickup with a 2-4 in the back, a bottle in my shirt pocket wearing a John Deere jacket and toque which peaked about 12 inches above my head.

You wanna beatin' buddy rails?!! ARRRRRR!! Goin' re-foring in the back 40!

Check out those black pants, white high tops and black beret.

A new direction

Last weekend I met a friend's boyfriend who is a designer. I showed him my work - which he liked - and was talking about my frustrations and difficulties at getting into a gallery. His advice: screw the galleries and start selling to shops on Queen West. Then, when you start making money, start concentrating on the big stuff for the galleries.

I've thought about his advice over and over again and it's starting to make sense. I've really changed my thoughts on the direction I'm heading in and decided to take a more business minded approach. First of all, I'm going to start selling on eBay. I've joined an online site for artists, EBSQ, that provides a space (and more importantly - templates) for creating an online portfolio and presence. They also provide you with excellent templates for putting in descriptions of your artwork on eBay. It looks good and simply pulls all your info from the EBSQ site so there isn't much work involved. Plus it looks professional.

Secondly I've opened up a store on Cafepress.com (it's not ready yet). They allow you to create all sorts of merchandise (apparel, mugs, stickers, calendars, etc) with your images on it, all for free. Everything has a base price, you decide on the markup, and when something is purchased they send the markup to you. You can also purchase stuff of your own to sell without the markup. They take care of the ordering, manufacturing, money and shipping. I don't think it gets any easier than that.

Thirdly, I am redoing a few photos in solid colours so they can be silk screened onto t-shirts. Printing photos on t-shirts is very expensive, but images with only a few colours can easily be silk screened by a number of companies here in Toronto. I know someone who's friend does it, so I'm going to start there. Of course I'll have to learn Illustrator (because I have ooodles of time). Once I have prototypes made, I'll be approaching shops on Queen to see if I can get them sold there. I'm hoping that at least one store out of the whole city will be willing to sell custom shirts. Oh, and did I mention the postcards and possible greeting cards?

In short, I've decided to create my own brand. Soon absolutely everyone will have to have a jBarrie something or other. It's going to take a lot of time, but there's no rush.

A clockwork orange meets Salvador Dali

That was my experience yesterday at the eye clinic. I had Lasik surgery done about 4 years ago to get rid of my glasses. It was great except that I was left with the dreaded night glare. At the beginning of this year, a new technology emerged called Wavefront which is much more precise. I had that done in February to get rid of the glare and it worked. Unfortunately I developed another problem a month ago - I started to see double. Not the "I've had too many martinis and now I see two of you" kind of double, but more of a ghosting effect when I was trying to read. Not fun.

When they do the laser surgery, they open a flap on your eye, zap it and then close the flap. Sometimes however, the flap doesn't seal completely and cells from the outside membrane of your eye accumulate underneath it. That's what happened to me so I had to go under the knife for a third time.

This time they had to open the flap and scrape away the cells. It was very surreal and very disturbing. They place a speculum under your eyelids so that you can't blink (a la Clockwork Orange). Then they peel away the flap, at which point the light you are staring at gets very blurry. Then the doctor takes an instrument and starts scraping your exposed eye. It's very, very, very disturbing (did I mention that already?). This thing is poking at your eye and distorting your already distorted vision and pulling it in different directions. It's also a little nauseating. All this stuff is happening and all you want to do is close your eye so you can't see it, and it's the one thing that you aren't able to do. It reminded me of a Salvador Dali film I saw once where a knife was going into an eye (or something like that). It's as horrible as it sounds.

Thankfully you don't feel a thing during the whole procedure and it only takes a couple of minutes. Plus you get a valium beforehand. My eye stung like a son of a bitch afterwards though. Thank god for the Tylenol 3's. After a few of those, plus the valium, I was feeling better. I don't want to do it again though. It was much worse than having the laser surgery in the first place. Unfortunately, it may happen again, and if it does, the flap in my eye will have to be glued. I always thought that you weren't supposed to put glue in your eyes.

After all that, was the laser surgery worth it to get rid of glasses??

Absolutely.

Dear Santa

I've been a good boy all year. All I want for Christmas is an iBuzz attachment for my iPod. Oh, and maybe a new video ipod to go along with it too.

On the topic of George W. Bush

I just think he's just fucked. He's so fucked. I want to send him some poppers and Crisco.

Margaret Cho - Assasin

Don't blame me

As you may or may not have heard, GM is laying off some 30000 people over the next few years. This is terrible news, especially for the plant here in Oshawa which is the life blood of the community. It ranks #1 for production, yet is still going to lose over 3000 employees. They are also saying on the news that for every job lost at GM, it means 7 lost jobs locally as the effect ripples throughout the community. That plant employs a lot of people from many different towns spanning east and west along the 401. I truly feel sorry for those people, and for the towns it will bring down with it. What used to be a guaranteed-for-life job at an auto plant with good wages and benefits has now become nothing more than a gamble.

But are these layoffs happening? Simple - GM's sales are sinking. The mighty Giant has lost a lot of market share to the imports over the past few years. Consequently they're axing the workforce and Buzz Hargrove, President of the CAW is telling us as Canadians and as Americans, that it's all our fault because we haven't been buying North American cars. Thank you"Buzz" for the enlightenment. Now why don't pull your head out of your ass and join the real world.

Let's step back for a moment and think about why we're not buying GM vehicles. Hmmm, maybe it's because they have the longevity of a 16 year old having sex for the first time. The cars may look great, may run fine, but they just don't last. Three people I know very well have had horrible experiences with brand new GM cars - power steering going (more than once), brakes failing, engines needing replacing, and in one case the car stalled immediately after being driven off the lot. Somehow my parent's friends managed to force the dealership to take that car back and give a full refund after only having it for a few weeks. Though they didn't drive it much since it was in the shop most of the time. Even if you are one of the lucky ones who don't have these problems with a new GM, just wait until the warranty expires. Like the day after it expires.

If I can choose between a Hyundai with a 5 year warranty, and another vehicle with a 3 year, which is the logical choice? Obviously Hyundai believes that their products are good, and is willing to stand behind them, so I got one of those. Plus it's a full size sporty hatchback which local models like the Ford Focus pale in comparison to. What if I wanted diesel car? The VW TDI engine is powerful and has great mileage, but find me a GM equivalent. Toyota and Honda both have hybrids, but I can't get a GM hybrid sedan. And speaking of Honda, the Civic and Accord are both well known for their longevity and high resale value. I don't know of a GM model that enjoys the same reputation.

What I'm getting at here Mr. Buzz Hargrove, is don't blame me for GM's failures. It's not my fault they dropped the ball, lost their innovation and put out crappy products. The consumers have spoken, and it's time you all listened and stepped up to the plate. Give us a reason to buy one of your cars, instead of reasons not to.

Welcome to my world

Since Dickey asked, I'll give this a go:

Two Names You Go By --
1. Joe Nathan
2. Jonathan

Two Parts of Your Heritage --
1. Canadian
2. Polish

Two Things That Scare You --
1. Closet Doors
2. Driving in Markham

Two of Your Everyday Essentials --
1. Chocolate
2. Cigarettes.

Two Things You Are Wearing Right Now --
1. Perry Ellis Red
2. Degree

Two of Your Favorite Bands or Musical Artists (at the moment) --
1. Goldfrapp
2. New Order

Two Things You Want in a Relationship (other than Real Love) --
1. Kinky Sex
2. Respect

Two Truths --
1. I had posters of ABBA in my locker at age 16
2. I have never had sex with that "other gender"

Two Physical Things that Appeal to You --
1. Hairy Chest
2. Hairy Legs

Two of Your Favorite Hobbies --
1. My artwork
2. Watching horrible B horror movies

Two Things You Want Really Badly --
1. My own studio
2. To travel around the world for one year

Two Places You Want to go on Vacation --
1. Australia (again)
2. France

Two Things You Want to Do Before You Die --
1. Ryan Reynolds
2. Safari in Africa (and no, the African Lion Safari just outside of Toronto doesn't count)

Two Ways that you are stereotypically a Guy -- I'm not, so I'm changing this to Gay
1. My Kiehls shaving products
2. I own almost every Erasure CD & LP ever produced

Two Things You Normally Wouldn't Admit --
1. I wish I still did E (but I don't and won't).
2. I'd have sex with a girl just to see what all the fuss is about.

Two Things You Are Thinking About Now --
1. I shouldn't be drinking coffee again.
2. Am I going to stick with my resolution of quitting smoking today?

Two Stores You Shop At -
1. Banana Republic
2. Winners

Two people I haven't talked to in a while --
1. Ed C. in BC
2. Dickey - we need another beer night

Two bloggers who may now dislike you for passing this on to them --
1. I can't pass these things on. I just can't. It's like chain letters. I'm morally opposed.
2. But if you want to do your own, please feel free.

Blast from the Past

I took hundreds of slides, reels and a projector from my Grandmother's house over the weekend. I've slowly been going through the pictures of trees, roads, fields, hills, water, roads, fields, trees, roads, water, hills, tractors, cars, trees and every once in a while I find ones with actual humans as subjects. This is me and my aunt Vicki. Check out the floral pattern. I think it classifies as nuclear explosion loud. Even then I had a propensity for putting things in my mouth and sucking on them.

Confessions on a Computer Screen

As if being saddled with the task of buying my mother an electric mixer for Christmas wasn't gay enough, Susan dragged my tired ass out to 5ive at 10:00 last night for the Madonna CD release party. It was fucking cold, and we had to wait in line to get in. I hate waiting in line. And as always, there was one Solid Gold reject doing his dance moves solo on the dance floor as the place was fillling up. I think he was re-interpreting vogue-ing with a splash of Paula Abdul. I need not say more.

Now maybe I'm naive, but aren't they supposed to actually play songs from the new album at a CD release party? They played Sorry at midnight, and Hung Up at 1:00 am. It's not like there isn't a lot to choose from, the disc is filled with dance tracks - hence the name. Instead we were subjected to Lucky Star, but sped up so she sounded like one of the Chipmunks.

I find it a bit strange to walk into a club that I haven't been to in a long time. I used to love going there for the bear/leather nights a few years back. Lots of hot daddies to oogle at. Of course now everything inside has completely changed and so has the crowd. Instead of big, burly daddies, I was treated to thin, flimsy, college queens and girls. Not one fuckable guy in the entire place. Not that I was planning, but it's always fun to look.

Anyways, I did enjoy myself, but was even happier to come home and climb into bed with Q. I've almost shaken off the hangover.

All I Want for XXXmas

My sister and I were discussing what to get my parents for Christmas, and were thinking of going in on something together. After spending Saturday with my father chopping and piling wood (yes I can do butch things too!), it was clear that he needed a new chainsaw to replace the 20 year old one. D thought that was a great idea and said that her husband knew of some ones that dad was looking at, so it shouldn't be a problem. She then mentioned that mom could use a new stand mixer for the kitchen. I told her that I knew of a couple of places in the city to get that kind of thing at a decent price.

"Great" she says "I'll look after the chainsaw and you're in charge of getting the mixer."

Sigh. Sometimes stereotypes are there for a reason.

How did I miss this?

In 2001 Max Wright, who played the father on ALF - that totally cool 80's show- was caught picking up homeless men with his gay lover, smoking crack and having sex - and video taping it. He also developed a fondness for male prostitutes. Did I mention that he was married at the time? I guess working with a puppet for 7 years can do that to a person.

Book

After hearing lots about it (and no it had nothing to do with Oprah's Book Club), I decided to pick up A Million Little Pieces by James Frey. After the first page I was hooked. I started reading it on Saturday evening, put it down at 2:00 am, woke up on Sunday, had a shower and then finished the book. It's that good.

"At the age of 23, James Frey woke up on a plane to find his four front teeth knocked out, his nose broken, and a hole through his cheek. He had no idea where the plane was headed, nor any recollection of the past two weeks. An alcoholic for the past 10 years, a crack addict for 3, he's checked into a treatment facility shortly after landing. There he's told, despite his rage that he can either stop using or die before he reaches age 24. This is Frey's very personal and acclaimed account of his six weeks in rehab."

Very raw, very real, and very intelligently written. It's uncommon to hear an addict take full responsibility for his actions - no blame laid on anyone or anything but himself. You can also hear a read by Frey himself (12 min). Thanks to Jockohomo for the link.

This book grabbed my attention not only for the reasons above, but because I noticed a lot a similarities between Frey and my ex, Psycho. If that's not scary, then I don't know what is. Now, Psycho wasn't a crack addict, but he did have a very addictive personaility. He often thought that everything would be more fun if drugs were involved - even if we were already having a good time, and he is an alcoholic as I've mentined before. Frey's views on life and love, as well as the constant Fury he refers to, just had way too much in common with Psycho's own views and rage.

The key difference however, is that unlike Frey, Psycho blamed anybody and everybody for absolutely everything that went wrong in his life. Even down to the silliest, smallest things. Like the time we were sitting at home with Q (who was just a friend at the time), enjoying some ice cream. Psycho spilled some on his shirt and then screamed, jumped up, and then ran over to the kitchen sink in his princess rage, acting like the world was going to end. Then he started yelling at me because I wasn't helping him. Honestly, how much work does it take to dab water on a shirt and then go upstairs and change it? That was Q's first taste of the real Psycho, and he still vivdly remembers the incident. I just added it to the list.

Eavesdropping

Just came across a great blog the other day, Overheard in New York. It's exactly what it says, just excerpts of overheard conversations, and it's frequently updated.

2 Questions I never thought I'd be asked

Number 1:

Q and I were standing on Castro St Saturday night watching all the fabulous costumes go by. At one point an asian drag queen walked by us, turned, and in a very sultry voice asked:

Asian bird flu anyone?

We almost pissed ourselves laughing so hard. We were just so utterly shocked we couldn't stop laughing.

Number 2:

We were on the streetcar going down Market St when yet another crazy person got on. He walked up to me and said "You smoke crack?"

"No," I replied "not today."

"Really??" he answered "Because I smoke crack! I fucking love smokin' crack!!" and he proceeded to go on about the virtues of smoking crack and how much he enjoyed it as he made his way to the back of the streetcar and sat down.

That must have been some good shit.

Signs of San Francisco

For some reason I took an interest in signage while in SF. Since I can no longer be a slut, I guess I had to divert my energies elsewhere.

This was the view from our hotel. If you look at the larger picture it reads "See the beauty, touch the magic." I wouldn't touch the magic there with a 10 foot pole.



Danger in Alcatraz.


Bear Bar

As opposed to those "public baths." Uh-huh.

Don't feed the pigeons your poo.

Last breakfast in Alcatraz.

No explanation needed.

Definitely not McDonalds.

Why don't I have one of these around the corner from my house?

Because knowing is half the battle.

McDonalds says "It's just a lure, don't help the poor!"

We saw this sign just after sitting down for breakfast.

Ran out of BBQ sauce?

They're here.........

I book most of my vacations through my travel agent. It's a gay agency, and I can usually rely on their recommendations on places to stay in cities that I'm not familiar with - usually. This time they were a little off the mark. Anyone who is familiar with San Francisco can tell you that the one area you definitely want to avoid is Market St between 5th and 8th. We were at Market and 7th, otherwise known as Shit St & Crack Ave. It was awful. The area is plagued by hundreds (no exaggeration) of homeless people with their shopping carts. Our first day we were witness to a fight across the street and at night we could watch numerous drug deals taking place. Just down the street were the Adult stores and strip clubs.

The hotel itself wasn't too bad. It was OK. Very old, but without that old building charm. The calibre of people staying there was pretty good as well. Other people we spoke with were just as surprised by the area as we were. At least Q and I are two big guys, but we still wouldn't have went out alone. I can't think of how some women there must have felt. Picture a hotel at the corner of Dundas and Sherbourne and you get my drift. However, the one thing that majorly bugged me about the place was the closet door.

When I was a kid we lived in a very old farm house. All the closet doors and bedroom doors were the same - just a big, heavy wooden door. I was a big fan of horror movies (and still am) but that came with a price. The closet at the top of the stairs, the one in my bedroom and under my bed were severly off limits at night. I think it all stemmed from an episode of Tales from the Darkside where a student rented a room in a house, and was terrorized by a monster in the closet. A closet not unlike the one in my bedroom. At the end she finally left screaming (or was killed or something) and the monster turned out to be this white half bat/half human thing that was the owner's child or something. I eerily remember him at the end cradling it, carrying it, and soothing it as he took it back upstairs. Forever etched in my brain that scene was. Oh, and we can't forget the infamous closet in Poltergeist either. That being said, the closet door was always shut when I went to bed.

Seeing as the hotel closet reminded me of that, I wasn't comfortable unless the door was closed. No matter what we were doing, even if we were in the room for 10 minutes, I could feel the open door with my back turned. It seriously bothered me a lot. It didn't help that it had a tendency to swing open a few inches if not closed properly either. Of course I had to endure endless torment from you-know-who for the rest of our stay. The bastard even had the nerve to take pictures of it when I wasn't looking.

It doesn't look like much, but it's evil I tell you.

EVIL.

What a gay old time

Q and I recently got back from a 4 day weekend in San Francicso. We had a good time, even though I caught a nasty cold. Did all the touristy things, but no shopping. A first for me. Usually I need another suitcase to come home with. I'll elaborate a little more later, but of course now that I'm back to work, there's a hell of a lot to do.

A word to the wise - if you decide to travel to a destination that has a time difference, say California for example, which is 3 hours behind Toronto. Don't go when Daylight Savings Time changes, because when everything moves back another hour, it really fucks you up.

I win!!! - NOT

Like everyone else in Ontario, I bought my Lotto 649 tickets for the 40 million dollar jackpot. I even picked my very own numbers so that when I win I can tell the world that I did it all by myself.

Plus I figure Karma owes me one. Today an old lady fell in the washroom on our floor and I was commandeered to be the one to pick her up. She was sitting on the ground and as I hooked my elbows under her armpits and began pulling I discovered - much to my horror - that her pants were not all the way up. I felt old lady bum slide up my thigh. Yes it's revolting as it sounds. Thankfully other women were there to pull up her pants as I lifted her. I checked my pants for any stains. Thankfully there weren't any.

But I'd do it all over again. Always good to help. And she was a nice lady.

Bum.

UPDATE:

No, of course I didn't win anything. But it was $1 day at the laundromat last night. Woo.

Brush your teeth. Up and down...

I sure I've mentioned before that eating chocolate late at night gives me weird dreams. Case in point:

Friday night Q took me out for a wonderful dinner. We ended it with Dark Chocolate Creme Brulee for dessert. How could I pass that up? Later that night Candice Bergen (aka Murphy Brown) was drugged and kidnapped by a strange man who put a gimp mask over her face and then proceeded to remove an extra molar in her mouth. When she came to, Candice was very upset because her dentist had told her to never ever, ever, ever remove that extra tooth.

Sigh...

My Spidey Sense is Tingling

I just learned of “The Spiderman” – it’s when you pull out just before you come, shoot your load in your hand, fling it at the chick’s face you’re fucking and scream “Go web go!!!”

Why does Dickeybird comes to mind?

Continuing on the superhero theme, I came across Superdickey.com which features a wonderful assortment of demented comic book covers and scans. Superman Is A Dick is one of my favourite collections. But the following comic just threw me. How many times could you possibly say boner in a comic strip???

Frustrated

So my great idea of putting a package of my work together and sending it to Ben Watt in London didn't pan out. The package was returned. I'm not sure exactly why, except that it looks like the mailman tried to deliver it twice, gave up and returned it. The guy at the post office suggested that I call Canada Post and verify if they are even supposed to XpressPost packages to PO boxes. If not, then he said I should be able to get my money back. I figured that if it was too big for a PO box then they would leave a little note for a parcel to be picked up at the post office. Guess I was wrong.

There go my chances of making a great first impression. There go my chances of meeting BW in San Fran. There go my chances of getting free tickets to the show. Fuckers.

I'm really getting frustrated at the responses I've been getting lately, or more correctly, the lack thereof. I've sent out emails to a few people lately, some of whom I've met before, and received no replies. No "That's great, but it's not for my gallery" or "That sucks and it's not for my gallery" or "Your work is shit" or "Your work is pretty good." Nothing. Nothing at all. That's the worst part. I can handle the rejection, in fact I expect it. I just thought that people would be a little more courteous. How naive.

On another note, Phil and I watched The Killer Barbys (spelt Barbies in the movie, but not on the packaging) last night. It's a DVD he got me for my birthday which turned out to be a poorly translated and dubbed spanish horror movie. They are a rock group who get stranded in the middle of nowhere and have to spend the night in a castle where there is an evil countess who needs the blood of young people to stay alive. Pretty standard fare with lots of sex and girls running around in underwear and/or nude. But being a european movie, there was also full frontal male nudity too. The guy wasn't much to look at, but man was he packing.

They get trapped because a wheel of their van gets stuck in a hole. Of course they all get out (except the 2 fucking in the back, as the do for the whole movie until they're killed) and look but can't figure out what's wrong. Duh. Then a mysterious old man appears, looks and tells them that the shocks are broken, but they can stay the night in the castle. He'll call for a tow in the morning. You know, if they'd just pushed the damn thing.....

An interesting feature of the film is that it is always 12:00. Not sure if it's am or pm most of the time as it's daylight one minute and then dark the next, then daylight again etc etc. But we lost count of how many times the camera zoomed in on every single clock in the castle telling you it was 12:00. Spooooookyyyyyy.....

Favourite line as said by victim#3 as he jumps on a bed:

"I'm going to sleep like Queen Victoria!"

I gather she must sleep very well indeed.

Well Duuuuhhhhhh....

I was showing someone in my office my website today. A nice guy but a little clueless. After seeing one of the photos, his comment was "That could definitely appeal to a certain population of the city."

No shit Sherlock. Do I have to start wearing leather hot pants and singing Madonna songs all day? Again? I shouldn't get too pissy. He was trying to compliment me. It's amazing how some people pick up on it right away, and others have no clue whatsoever.

Well bend me over and call me Sparky

I love Goldfrapp. I love the video for Number 1.

Even if you're not fond of the group, the video is freakin brilliant.

UPDATE: Apparently the link isn't working. Yahoo! bastards removed it!!!! In fact they removed all the videos for the new album.

I'll assume the position......

To all the girls I've loved before.....

Thanks Dan for the title suggestion.

There has been a few thank you’s going around lately. I thought maybe I would do a list of my own - with a twist:

• To Cling-on, thanks for being my first real girlfriend. We dated for quite a long time and it’s thanks to you that I realized I didn’t like women. No offence or anything.


• To Heidi, thanks for saving my ass. It was my last year of highschool and word was getting out that I was gay. You were such a slut and all the guys wanted to screw you, but you liked me so we went out. It saved my ass from getting whipped bigtime. All the jocks couldn’t figure it out, but were jealous and confused at the same time. I think it raised my status to slightly above ass kicking. That was until you dropped out of school, moved out to Oshawa and became a stripper. You know, if you'd have stayed around a little bit longer, we could have fucked. I never had the opportunity before or since.
  


• To the Walrus (koo koo ke choo), you were my first boyfriend and together we discovered the joys of man on man sex. That was until you got really boring, jealous and possessive. Thanks for making it downright impossible to do the things I really wanted to do in life. I told you I didn’t love you, didn’t want to have sex with you and didn’t even like you very much anymore, yet you cried for days and were surprised when I left. Freak.


• To L, through you I discovered the joys of drugs, and hot, dirty, kinky sex. I don’t care if everyone said that you looked like Ron Jeremy, you were hung like John Holmes.


• To Psycho, I owe you my self esteem. You beat me down so badly that I didn’t have a choice but to learn to stand up for myself. Strangely I came out of that experience a stronger man. All the traveling was fun too. But you’re still a complete and utter asshole who’s in need of some serious mood stabilizing drugs.


• To Mr. Man, thanks for being there post Psycho. I needed that a lot.


• To the guys following, thanks for the fun and distraction.


• To J, sorry it didn’t work out. You were a bit too clingy, but being with you made me realize how much I wanted to be with Q. Thanks for being my rebound.


• To Q, what can I say, you’re the love of my life. I’ve never felt like this about anyone before. Thanks for showing me what a real adult relationship is all about. One where respect, compassion, and joy flow both ways. As far as I’m concerned, you are permanently at the end of this list.

Just plain Awful

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Look everyone! I have mouth herpes!!

It's been a rough few weeks. Q's mother was in the hospital and almost didn't make it out, but she's home now. Then he found out last week a friend of his was murdered in Orillia by 2 men "of no fixed address." How in the hell can you be homeless in Orillia? We don't know the details yet, but the funeral is this week, so he'll get more info. Can't wait for this week to be over already.

On another note, I was watching TV yesterday and saw a commercial for a new cold sore medicine. It took about 10 seconds, and a rewind to watch it again (love that PVR) before I realized that I knew the "star" of the commercial. It was Andrea Cross, a friend of mine from high school. We used to do a lot of drama stuff together, and she stayed with it after all these years - only to lament to the world that she's embarassed by cold sores. At least it wasn't an ad for those "not so fresh" days.

Them's is good peoples

I really like where I live. I've never been in a building with so many nice, kind, considerate people living in it. Case in point - I was looking for my ipod on Saturday and figured that I'd just left it in my car. When I went to go out on Saturday night, the following note was on my car - "Did you lose an mp3 player ? 416-555-5555." I'd dropped my ipod beside my car on Friday night and these kind people picked it up and kept it for me. That's also one of the reasons why I keep it in a padded case. It's soft with rubberized edges and consequently doesn't make much of a sound when dropped. Of course that's better than the sound of plastic smashing into a million pieces.

I met them last night and they are a young couple with a cute 5 month old boy. It's refreshing to know that there are still good people out there. I'm going to get them a little something to show my appreciation. Guess I had some karma stored up.

So to Celine, Jean and Mattheu - thank you very much. Your kindness has not gone unnoticed.

Silly Brits

Taken from The Register:

A nice bit of Friday silliness: the BBC reports that posters for the forthcoming Wallace and Gromit spectacular The Curse of the Were-Rabbit on the south-coast island of Portland will not contain the word "rabbit" out of respect for local tradition which has it that the mere utterance of the word causes quarries to collapse entombing local workers forever in killer cement.

As the BBC explains: "Because burrowing can cause landslips in quarries, residents of Portland, Dorset, instead call the creatures underground mutton or furry things." Accordingly, the W&G publicity will carry the alternative slogan "Something bunny is going on".

Weymouth and Portland mayor Les Ames illuminates: "If the word rabbit is used in company in Portland there is generally a bit of a hush. In the olden days when quarrying was done by hand, if one of these animals was seen in the area, the quarryman would pack up and go home for the day - until the safety of the area had been reconnoitred. It is an unwritten rule in Portland that you do not use the word rabbit."

This correspondent seems to recall that Orcadian and Western Isles fishermen also have an aversion to the word "rabbit", and also to "swan", among others, although this is unlikely to be landslide-related. As for Portland, they are indeed a superstitious bunch. God alone knows how they would react to posters for a film adaptation of Macbeth, but we suspect it would involve downing tools and pushing off to the mainland for three months casting much salt over their shoulders.

Veal anyone?

My sister lives on a small farm with cattle, pigs and a donkey named Jack. The other night at 4:00 am Jack started making all kinds of noise. Her husband went out to look and saw a cow laying on the ground. Since she was pregnant and due, he just figured she was giving birth and went back inside. A few hours later Jack started making all kinds of noise again. He went back out and saw that calf had been delivered, but the cow was still on the ground. Then he noticed something very wrong - she was still pushing and her insides were coming out. By the time the vet arrived, she had pushed almost all of her insides out, ruptured a major artery and died. Apparently cows are known to do this from time to time.

The calf however was fine, and Jack was standing over it, guarding the little thing. Now it has to be hand fed, and consequently loves people and loves being pet (I can't wait to see it, they're so cute when they're young). Jack also keeps a careful eye over anyone who goes near the calf.

Smart ass, stupid cow.

This is why I prefer email

The package I sent to Ben Watt still hasn't arrived. I know it landed in London, but where it went from there, I have no idea. I've placed a trace at XpressPost, but it will be up to 15 days before I get an answer.

In the meantime I emailed his assistant who confirmed that aliens did indeed swoop down and take the box back to the mothership, leaving her with nothing. I resigned myself to emailing her the letter I enclosed in the box, along with the link to my site. Not the kind of impact I was going for, but what can I do.

The interesting thing is she told me that I should always send artwork in pdf or link to my site. Sounds like she gets sent this sort of stuff on a regular basis. That gives me an idea - I might just start contacting record labels directly and sending them stuff. The worst that will happen is nothing.

One day goddamnit. One day someone, somewhere will see my work and I will quit my job and make money doing what I love the most. I won't stop until that happens.

Don't ask me if you're afraid of what I might say

I hate Bell. Let me clarify. I loathe, detest, despise, can't stand, wish-aliens-would-abduct- and-probe-them-all, hate hate hate Bell Canada.

Being in I.T., I deal with them on a constant basis. I can't recall one installation or repair call that they didn't fuck up. They are unorganized, incompetent and if they were any other company and not a monopoly, they'd have gone bankrupt years ago. As it stands, I can no longer recommend Bell as an internet provider to any of my clients and will switch them off as soon as any problems arise.

So imagine my sheer delight today when I answer the phone and a friendly voice says to me:

"Good morning. I'm calling on behalf of Bell Canada. We are doing a customer service survey and I was wondering if you'd like to participate."

I was supposed to meet someone in half an hour for lunch, but there was no way that I was going to miss this. If I love anything, it's a chance to bitch. Here are some of my answers based on my satisfaction level ranging from 1 to 10:

• 1
• 1
• 2
• 1
• 2
• 1

And some other answers:

• They have yet to get a single installation right.
• Service reps fail to show.
• Every person I speak to in support has a different answer for the same question.
• I don't believe that many of the people I speak to know what they are talking about.
• I would never recommend a Bell product to any of my clients - ever.
• They took over a month and a half to get all 4 of our phone lines working.

It just went on and on like that for 20 minutes. I was in heaven. Then he asked me if he could pass along my contact info to the group that reads these surveys. I told him to go right ahead. I have no problem telling them exactly why their service sucks honey-dipped donkey balls.

Happy Day.

Some people never change

Especially if they're bat-shit crazy.

I heard a story the other day, about my ex who I appropriately refer to as Psycho. I finally left Psycho 2 years ago after years of fun, heartache, abuse and alcoholism. After I left him, he joined A.A., which as much as I hated, gained the bastard some deserved some credit. But that's not a worry anymore, apparently he's up to his old tricks again.

Two friends of mine (let's call them Larry and his boyfriend Walter) were at a Pride party this past summer, hosted by a Member of Parliament. Psycho's a lawyer and is one of those people who just absolutely has to be in with the "it" crowd or else he'll die, so I wasn't surprised he was there. It did surpise me when Walter told me that he was shit-faced drunk - beyond tipsy, beyond smashed, just over the top Listerine-level intoxicated. A Psycho special that I know only too well.

Larry, Psycho and I used to be good friends, but after the breakup, we just sort of drifted apart, though Larry and I have recently reconnected. Psycho and Larry hadn't spoken in about a year, but when Psycho saw him at the party, he zeroed in. He started getting in his face about everything. Telling Larry's friends that Larry was saying all these things behind their backs and generally trying to embarass him in front of everyone. He just kept trying to push all his buttons. Larry is a pretty quiet guy, and wasn't about to add to the scene, but another person (yet another member of parliament) had to step in between Walter and Psycho. Walter and Larry left the party, while Psycho continued his tyraids.

I repeat, the man is bat shit crazy. Especially to act like that at a who's-who party.

Walter wasn't sure if he should have told me this, but I'm glad he did. Now that I know he's off the wagon, I will definitely have my back up if I see him at a bar.

This isn't the first story I've heard like this since the break up either. It's interesting to see that since I'm not around to be the focus of his rage, he can't actually keep it in and just blows up all the time.

Fucking asshole.

Are You All Alone? (I'm into you)

I sat back today and took a good, long look at my Mirrorball collection. It shocked me. There is such an extreme sense of solitude, isolation and desperation in every single picture. It's not unfounded, but a little jarring to have it staring me right in the face.

• Mirrorball - a lost soul.
• Answerphone - a person with no head, and therefore no voice (in every sense of the word) holding a phone, wanting and waiting desparately to talk to someone. Even though there are 4 people, one is still alone.
• Driving - almost intolerable loneliness. Do I jack off yet again? Or do I just blow myself up and get it over with?
• Five Fathoms - this was inspired by the chorus "I wanna love more, (there's a river in my head)." To me she's weak and desperate to love anyone.
• Temperamental - this one represents all the voices in your head telling you to leave a relationship, yet you're still drawn to the man in black no matter how awful he is.
• Future of the Future - to me she's painted up pretty, but shattered inside.
• Lullaby of Clubland - my take on the loneliness of gay clubbing.
• Mirrorball v2 - lifeless.
• Missing - waiting for that perfect person who's never coming back.
• No Difference - confusion & uncertainty. This is what happens when apathy takes over and you no longer take an interest in your life.
• Only Living Boy in New York - again the club scene. Standing by yourself by the disco ball in room full of people.
• Wrong - self restraint, holding yourself back. Also speaks of my experience of being surrounded by people who, instead of helping, would look right past me if I needed help or was hurting myself.

Come to think of it, the title's ironic in that these are all reflections of me.

Ouch

This is what happens when you go to the Hospital because you have sharp pains where you appendix is and it might need to be removed, and 4 hours later you finally get into a bed and the nurse doesn't know how to take blood properly so when he jabs you with the needle he doesn't get any blood so then he starts moving it back and forth, left and right, up and down as he digs for China in your left arm.

After a grand total of 7 hours in the hospital my appendix was fine, however I did have a bowel obstruction- which wasn't good either. But now I'm good and am on a high fibre diet. I didn't think I'd have Metamucil in my house until I was 80. I'm getting old.

He-Man is gay

There's nothing quite like watching Prince Adam sing 4 Non Blondes.

A Quick pick-me-up

Start your Friday off with some Pizazz!!

Yes, it's safe for work.

Spooky spooky

Phil and I went to see The Exorcism of Emily Dickenson Rose last night. We were both surprised. I didn’t go in with high expectations, but enjoyed the film all the way through. Instead of being an Exorcist rip-off, the story is about the trial of the Priest in charge of the exorcism in which Emily dies, and the struggles of his lawyer. Emily’s story comes out instead as the trial unfolds.

It supposedly is based on a true story about a backwards, god-fearing Christian family in Cornfield Nowhere USA whose oldest daughter goes away to a big city college and gets possessed. Back in the real world, circa 1976, there was a girl in Germany named Anneliese Michel who was the subject of the Catholic Church’s last recognized case of demonic possession and sanctioned exorcism rite. She died and the priest and parents were put on trial for negligent homicide. Umm, a little different, but this is Hollywood. I wonder if Anneliese saw melty faces and ate spiders in her bedroom too?

On a different note, my package arrived in London yesterday and is on its way to Buzzin’ Fly records today! Can’t wait!

Special Delivery

Well, I sent the package off to England this morning. It only cost a mere $140.00. Ouch. Oh well, nothing ventured, nothing gained.

I'm so happy that it's finally finished. Just looking at the collection proves that my work and abilities have really grown over the past year. It turned out so much more interesting than how I'd first imagined it. All the pieces were just supposed to be photographs of the dolls, but when I went to SNAP! earlier in the spring, I saw that a few other artists had jumped on the same bandwagon. Initially it pissed me off because it took away from the uniqueness of my work, but in the end it was the best thing that could have happened. It pushed me even harder to be more creative so that my work still stands out in the crowd. I believe it still does.

As you can tell I'm really excited about it now, and consequently I'm much more motivated and confident to approach galleries.

Wish me luck!

Here's a direct link to the photos if you haven't seen them yet.

Update Sept 20: I've tracked the package and it's left the country!!! I tell ya, I'm like a kid at Christmas.

I Love iTunes

Just got the new Goldfrapp album in the mail. It has COPY CONTROLLED stamped all over it. I popped it into my computer and iTunes gleefully began copying it to my harddrive.

Fuck you RIAA. I'll listen to it whenever and however I want, thank you very much.

Look at me!!

Well I've finally got all the photos up on the web. I still have to update the main page, but it's a pain in the ass and I'll get to it later:

www.jbarrie.com

It's a beautiful Sunday and I've spent the majority of it in my office printing and printing and printing. I also spent yesterday running around getting ink, paper and frames for today, since a lot of art supplies stores aren't open on Sundays. I also spent close to $300.00 and it's probably going to cost around another $100 to ship these overseas. It's frustrating because I just keep shelling out all this money for show after show and I'm not getting much back. I'm confident that one day all this will pay off though, it's just hard to be patient. Aarrgh.

Jerry Springer Quote of the Day

From a toothless stripper:

"You're one of those rednecks who give rednecks a bad name!!"

Finished product

So here are the results of last night. These 3 pieces were ones that I had originally thought were finished, but stil left some nagging feeling in the back of my mind. Now they're officialy done.

Wrong

No Difference

Lullaby of Clubland

Eureka!!

It's almost 2:00 am. I get it. I finally fucking get it. About an hour ago it all made sense to me. I sat down and looked at all the pictures that felt unfinished, unsatisfactory, and didn't quite fit. Suddenly I had this wave of inspiration, a rush of excitement and it all came together. I can't even put into words what makes sense exactly, I just know that I understand. I now know how they all should fit together, like solving a puzzle or something. I'm talking like a madman.

All of these photos have been inspired by songs by Everything But The Girl. Ben Watt, one half of the group, now owns his own record label, Buzzin' Fly. His contact info, including mailing address, is there. Coincidentally he is also going to be spinning in San Francisco while I'm there. I'm going to print everything on 8x10, box it up and mail it to him in England. I don't care how much it costs. I'm also going to enclose a note with a blurb about myself, about my inspiration, and let him know that I will be in S.F. if he'd like to meet. What the hell do I have to lose? Absolutely nothing. Best case scenario, he's impressed by my work, wants to meet, and sends me free tickets to his show. Worst case, I hear nothing back, but am satisfied knowing that I tried and that he knows what kind of effect his music has on people. Being an artist himself, I'm sure he'll appreciate that at least.

I may wake up in the morning wondering what kind of drugs I was on, but it seems like a fabulous idea at the moment.

Goddamn Fags

I went to an art opening on Church St tonight. I hate Church St. I hate the gay scene. Everyone is so unbelievably fake. People only smile and say hi to you because you're in front of their face. Then they're quick to dismiss you and go on their cunty way.

When you're in the scene and seeing the same people all the time, you have all sorts of friends. When you drop out and go on to do something with your life then come back to visit, you're almost shunned. It's pathetic.

And if one more fag walks behind my car as I am backing into a parking spot, I'm just gonna floor it. Seriously. And that goes for the bitches on bicycles who come zooming out of nowhere beside my car as I am pulling out of said spot. I swear I almost took this guy out. There was maybe 2 feet between me and the car beside me, who was letting me in. I pressed on the gas and suddenly he was right there between the cars. He may not know it, but he was a couple of inches away from flying like Superman.

Goddamn fags.

After You've Blown It

I got this from BoingBoing:

Unintentional penis on religious book called "After You've Blown It"
fd says: "The full title of the book is 'After You've Blown It: Reconnecting with God and Others.' The cover art shows what can only be described as a man standing on a gigantic penis in front of puckered lips.

"The publisher, Multnomah, has already changed the cover art on the book, converting the penis into a cliff

"Amazon has updated their cover art when you click 'Search inside this book' but their product page thumbnail still shows the old image."
Link

New Stuff

Just finished a few new pics tonight. The second one I already posted, but now it's reworked. I think I like this one better. It looks a little dark at this resolution, but is better when it's bigger (isn't everything?) Click to enlarge.

The Only Living Boy in New York


Temperamental (I Don't Want You To Love Me)

Good vs Evil

Wanna know why Muslims are bad? Did you know that Mohammed was liar and a pedophile?

Me neither, until I read this informative comic. It's a good thing christians are so good, and they can put their teachings in cute little comics for children to read. If I didn't know better I'd swear it was out of MAD Magazine.

I just love the part where they have to go to the airport.

Screw the bank I work for, screw the bank.

I travel to the States a lot, so I decided that it would be a good idea to get a US dollar VISA.  Last week I went online to my bank’s website and filled out an application and asked for only $2500.  Today I got my reply – I was declined.

I don’t get it. I’ve been with my bank for over 10 years. I even worked for them for 4 years while going to school.  I have a credit card, a student loan, a line of credit (which is at zero), a chequing account and a savings account with cash in it. All my loans are in good standing with no missed payments.  I’ve been at my job for 5 years and make a good amount of money.

However, another bank had absolutely no problem giving me a platinum VISA card last year, and had no problems upgrading it to a Gold Preferred a week ago (I wanted travel insurance after the New Orleans cancellation).  Also, I had no problem getting a loan for my car in the spring.  I also had no problems getting a mortgage when I owned the house with Psycho.

I’m pissed and insulted.  I don’t understand how a bank could treat a good customer that way.  I’m going into my branch tomorrow to have a chat. Basically either they give me the card or I pull everything from them and go across the street to the bank where I have my VISA.  

It doesn’t help the Q just got his US VISA in the mail today and keeps rubbing it in. Bastard.

weekender

Dickey spent the weekend due to Wifey troubles. We had a really great talk on Friday where I told him to ditch the bitch and go back to boys again. OK, no I didn't. I like Wifey a lot and it looks like the time apart is what they needed to figure out how to work on their differences. I was also glad to be able to help.

Went down to my parent's for my dad's 60th birthday party. It was outside with a big firepit, a pig on a spit turning over and open flame, and lots of hicks (ie family). I was unhappy to see that my brother's bitch wife showed up. Excuse the language, but she's an evil, lying, possessive, manipulative, crazy, psychotic cunt. They recently split up (it only took him over 10 years to figure this out) and after years of not attending family functions (since no one likes her) she decided not only to appear, but also stay over with my brother and their kids. She walks in the door and says "surprised to see me?" I fucking hate this bitch. Q made me promise him I'd keep my mouth shut and not ruin the day. I had to settle for evil glares and pretending like she didn't exist instead. Not many people talked to her anyways. I tell you though, the next time I see her, that's it. I'm going to lose it. No one in the family likes her, and no one in my family has the balls to do or say anything about it. I'm not often down at the same time as them, so I don't have much opportunity, but I'm taking it next time. I don't care what family function it is. I don't care if I ruin it. She's going to get a piece of my mind and run out of the house crying her little black heart out if I have my way. Believe me, if you knew the Jerry Springer-esque story, you'd would too.

But enough ranting, we came back later that night to find Dickey had invited a ton of people over for an impromptu orgy. Again, not really, but he did come home pretty drunk though.

The next morning I opened the fridge to grab a container of tuna (the cat's morning treat). Dickey popped his hungover head up from his pillow and says "Can you pour me a glass of that?"

"You want a glass of tuna?"

"Oh I thought you were getting water. "

I got him water anyways. Later on I was thinking that if I should have put a bit of tuna juice in his glass, but that probably would have been too mean.

Then Q and I headed out to look at a cottage. It was a bungalo on 20 acres of land and it was cheap. We were hoping that even if the building wasn't all that hot, at least we'd have a chunk of land to build the log cabin that we really want. Turns out that it was a really crappy bungalo on a small chunk of cleared land that then dropped off into a ravine. No room to build anything. And the place smelled like cat pee - a definite no-no.

We dropped by my parents on the way home to see how they made out. Turns out that at some point the day before some asshole had dropped a cat off on the side of their road and left it there. My parents live out in the country, and this happens all of the time. People seem to think that domestic animals with no survival skills will do fine if you drop them off next to a field. It makes me sick. We didn't see the cat, but she was very friendly and had been around earlier. My mom fed it and even picked it up, which it loved. Turns out the cat was declawed.

WHO IN THE HELL THINKS IT'S OK TO LEAVE A DE-CLAWED CAT OUT IN MIDDLE OF NOWHERE?? HOW IN THE HELL IS IT GOING TO CATCH ANYTHING TO EAT OR CLIMB A TREE TO GET OUT OF DANGER????

MOTHERFUCKER SHOULD BE SHOT.

and that was my weekend.

Weekend

Going to look at another place this weekend. It’s a 2 bedroom bungalow surrounded by 20 acres of land with a river going through the property. Even if the place isn’t exactly what we are looking for, the price is right for the land alone, plus it’s very private. We could build or add on a log cabin at a later date.  I’ll be holding out for the salt water swimming pool one day. Oh, and the hot tub.  And since no one will be able to see (not that I would really care anyways), I’ll be able to swim naked all day.

Dessert Anyone?

Last night I had a dream that Q and I were looking for a french restaurant. I came upon one on a patio somewhere, and thinking that it was what we were looking for, sat down to order. We were looking at the menu, when I realized that it was the wrong place, but before I could say anything, the waitress came over with huge platters of food.

My plate consisted of a huge slab of raw steak, about 4 inches thick, some over-grilled chicken and a large breaded pork chop. I kept wanting to tell the waitress that we needed to leave because we were in the wrong restaurant, but she would look so upset when I began telling her that I'd just stop. Then more raw steak would appear. I was also speaking to her in french, which I don't often do in dreams anymore. Not since finishing school anyways (french immersion). At one point she came over because she wanted me try a french delicacy - Horse Snout, which is promptly placed in front of me.

It was half a horse's head. The bottom jaw had been removed along with everything in line with it so it sat perfectly flat - kind of like how an alligator looks when it's head is resting slightly above water. But it wasn't a real horse's head. It looked like it had been sculpted out of cement and was cartoony with these big, googly eyes. On the nose there was a hollowed out spot where this bright blue jello-looking stuff had been scooped into. I guess that was the "snout" that you were supposed to eat. And to top it all off, the entire thing was encased in a huge cube of clear gelatin.

I woke up shortly after that.

Sometimes I'm very happy to wake up in the morning.

Naughty

Have you ever walked by a bathroom stall and seen a newspaper placed on the floor between a pair of feet?

Have you ever thought of quickly reaching under the door, snatching whatever the hell that person's reading, and bolting out of the bathroom?

What are they going to do? Stand up, wipe their ass, pull their pants up, do up their belt, and then chase you?

I don't know why, but the thought occured to me today.

So what do you listen to?

I got asked the other day what kind of music I listen to.  That’s a rather loaded question, and one not easily answered. I can say that I don’t listen to country, Celine Dion, most adult contemporary, classical (though I do appreciate it), rap, most R&B, reggae, Hip Hop, most (but not all) rock and alternative (though again, I can definitely appreciate the classics), HI NRG Euro dance crap, trance, ambient and 99% of what’s incessantly played on the radio. Sorry Britney, but you’ve never earned a penny from me.

What do I listen to?  Well here’s a sample from my collection:

• Extensive New Order, Pet Shop Boys and Erasure singles, remixes, LP’s and CD’s (I’m gay, remember?)


• Lots of 80’s collections and LP’s from that phase a number of years ago.


• A little Depeche Mode.


• Some disco discs here and there.


• Hed Kandi – still loving house music after all these years


• The Seduction of Claude Debussy by The Art of Noise – an absolutely brilliant disc chronicling and interpreting Debussy’s life and work from an absolutely brilliant band.


• A number of other Dance club compilations.


• Bjork


• Electro CD’s – Miss Kittin, Goldfrapp, Tiga, Benni Benassi, plus a few compilation CD’s


• Mark Almond/Soft Cell


• Everything But the Girl


• A few jazz discs here and there


• Scissor Sisters


• Paul Anka – Rock Swings


• A growing number of Fabric and Fabriclive compilation CD’s. These tend to be on the more obscure side.  Mostly unknown, harsh, dark electro put together by a different DJ every month. They can vary wildly from time to time depending on the DJ.


• Dimitri from Paris


• Brazilectro – I love Brazilian influenced music, even though I can’t understand a word of it.


• Café Del Mar


• Beck


• French electronica along the lines of Air, Rinocerose and Cassius


• The Beautiful South


• Towa Tei (the Japanese guy from Dee- Lite, another favourite)

Now how in the hell do I sum that up for when the next person asks me?

Food for Thought

When deciding to incorporate food into your sexplay, it's best not to use your mother's homemade jam.

As you taste the jam in that naughty place where it's not supposed to be, a mental picture of your mother lovingly mixing fruit and jarring the jam just for you will appear, and you'll recoil in horror at what you've just done.

It kinda breaks the mood.

An Open Letter

Dear Americans,

I’m sorry to say this, but your government has let you down.  The ongoing situation in New Orleans is atrocious. The response from President Bush, the Red Cross, and FEMA has been slow, unorganized, and woefully inadequate.  This is going to turn into something big, which I hope will shake the Bush Administration to the core.

Experts have been predicting this catastrophe since 2001 or earlier. In response, the Army Corps of Engineers asked for $110 million dollars to spend on reinforcing the levees and water systems to help brace for this weather attack. Instead what they received from Bush was $42 million – less than half of the amount they needed. However, Bush had no problems pushing money elsewhere to soothe and ensure his political agenda. This included over $200 million allocated to building a bridge to a remote island in Alaska.  Why this was more important, no one will ever know.

I was watching CNN this morning and the Governor of Louisiana was begging for more troops.  The mayor of New Orleans was furious at the slow, inadequate response. Why is it that when the tsunami hit, the army was able to deploy thousands of troops and drop hundreds of pounds of food within the first 2 days? Why are reporters able to get into the city, but officials claim they cannot?  How can they just leave those poor people at the convention center with no food, water or guards to maintain order?  Why can’t they drop them off some food?  Where are the buses and why aren’t they being escorted out of the major cities to ensure quick deployment, instead of being stuck in 4 hour traffic jams?  Why can’t the president mandate Greyhound and other companies send buses down immediately?  When emergency workers evacuating patients at the Charity Hospital came under sniper attack (that’s another rant right there), why did troops only show up for a few hours?  Why didn’t they stay to ensure that the rest of the evacuation went smoothly?

FEMA is a complete failure. Absolutely useless. If this is what Homeland Security is all about, then I’m frightened.  The reporter on CNN this morning was talking with the organizer of FEMA and was all but attacking him for not sending relief in earlier. She asked him many of the questions stated above. He wouldn’t answer. He just kept saying that they were helping people and that more troops would be in by the end of the weekend.  Her response was “But why now?  It’s Friday!!  Why weren’t they ordered on Monday or Tuesday?”  Of course she got no direct answer and it was clear that she was getting frustrated.  Since Bush came in to power, I’ve come to regard CNN as the sensationalist, Republican propaganda channel. I was shocked to see them attack the government so fiercely.

Things are only going to get worse in the short term. When the dust finally settles, people are going to have to answer some very difficult questions and own up to the grave mistakes they have made. I hope that this will be the time when George W. Bush and his cabinet are finally put through the ringers for making foreign interests their number one priority, instead of their “Homeland.”

My heart goes out to you all.

Never get angry at stupid people

I was going to go on this rant about idiot looters raiding stores for things like stereos and microwaves (umm, and just where are you going to plug those in?), and wonder just what part of "category 5 hurricane", "devastation" and "evacuate now" these people didn't understand.

However, JoeMyGod said it for me. Couldn't have said it better myself.

On another note, the legendary Fats Domino is missing. He stayed behind with his wife and daughter and his agent hasn't heard from him since. Sad, very, very sad - and senseless.

Psycho Neighbours

I like to read Bill In Exile from time to time. I found this great story on some wacky neigbours he's had:

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3