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:

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

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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.