How not to sell something.

OK, I am absolutely terrified to go to the smokey mountains. This is why.

And yes, it's safe to view at work.

Update Aug 4 - Well they changed the picture. It used to be the world's most scariest, retarded kitten. Oh well.

Show and Tell

They say that you should learn something new every day. Last night at a party, I learned from someone that you should never feed balogna to your pet hamster.

The hamster will eat it, however, since they aren't carnivores, they lack the means to properly digest the food. As a result the hamster will get constipated and explode.

Now you know too.

Vacation Chair

Well, after much debating, Q and I decided to get a Panasonic Massage chair. We saw it a few weeks ago, tried it out and loved it. When you first get in, it scans your back and finds your shoulders and other pressure points for a custom massage. It also does your legs and feet and butt. It does different types of massages, but the Shiatsu setting is absolutely awesome. You can also set it to concentrate on just one area as well. We don't really have the room for it, but don't care either. We'll make room.



The thing is, we could have gone on a vacation for what the damn thing costs, but we did get a great deal on it (shopping around really pays off). Plus it will be like a mini vacation every time either of us sit in it. It arrives on Wednesday.

Pampering is good.

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

I could go on for hours about the meanings of different aspects of this one.....
(click image for larger picture)

You know, after looking at it some more, I think it's missing something. Not sure what yet, but I think I'll play around with it a bit more. Not going to touch the other one though.

Missing

Folsom got my creative juices flowing again. (click image for a larger picture)

The Folsom Experience

I had my booth at Folsom Fair North on Sunday. For those not in the know, Folsom Fair originated in San Francisco. What originally began as a small leather/bear street party on Folsom Street soon grew to become a huge annual event. Thanks to the disgusting constraints at the U.S. border banning any HIV+ people from entering, promoters here (thanks John and Dean) decided instead to bring the party to Toronto. At least something good has come out of such a bigoted rule instituted by the american government. This is the third year for the party in Canada, and it's grown every year to now include a live stage, beer garden, vendor and art booths.

One of the booths was from Steamworks. As I walked by, I was taken aback by a wall with cartoon drawings of 3 men, bent over holding rather large, swollen, red asses wide open, not unlike this. To make matters worse, when I walked by a while later, I saw people throwing life-sized fists through the assholes to win a prize. Twisted and Brilliant.

From my booth I could see the porno tent. There were 2 porn stars working the booth, one of whom was absolutely gorgeous. I'd have done him, or let him do whatever to me, in a second. Never got his name though. Guess I'll just have to keep renting movie after movie until I find out who he is. There was also another booth with XXX movies playing. At least it was something to watch if I got bored.

It rained in the morning. It rained a lot. Pretty much downpoured on and off from 9AM until 3PM. After that, the clouds broke, the sun came out and the humidity returned. Despite all that, there were still a fair amount of people that came to check the park out before the sun.

Lots of great people watching too. Like the man in the red boots, fishnet stockings, leather hotpants and vest and cowboy hat. Or the guy with the dog head shaped gimp mask. Or the 800 year old man wearing nothing but a jock. Or the rather large woman who took half an hour (no exaggerating) to squeeze into (and spill out of) a chainmail boustier. As ridiculous as they may have looked, it was a fetish fair, and I think it's awesome that they felt comfortable and secure enough to wear their favourite gear out for the day. Besides, I'm not one to talk. I've worn my share of fetish gear to various events throughout the years. But there are limits.

I will not ever, ever, ever condone black socks with dress shoes worn with anything else but dress pants. Imagine the sight of a middle aged man walking around in nothing but his tightie whities - and black socks with dress shoes. Oh the horror. It was even worse when I spotted him walking around naked later. Eww.

As for my booth, I had a lot of traffic, made a few contacts, and got rid of a lot of business cards. Unfortunately, no one bought anything, but there were a few interests. I wasn't really expecting to sell anything anyways (though it would have been nice). It wasn't the type of venue where people would be bringing a ton of extra cash to purchase a piece of art and then walk around with it. Especially considering the weather. I did however, get a lot of compliments, which was very nice, and a lot of exposure.

I'm just a new artist. As such, I don't believe that I can command the high prices that some other people do. I'd rather my art get purchased people who don't want, or can't afford to pay the high prices for original pieces. As long as I cover the expenses of the piece, and make a little money, then I'm happy. Personally, I think a lot of art is overpriced anyways. I understand that some artists are trying to make a living, but still. I actually even had someone walk in, tell me that my work was good, but then remark in a condescending tone that I should "jack up my prices." Asshole.

In the end it was a good day. A fun day, even despite the rain. The temperature was warm, so the wet didn't matter. Plus we desperately needed the rain. It's been very hot and humid for the past few weeks. Q and Krista also kept me company and helped me set up and take down the booth. Having them around help make a long day fun.

Like I said, I didn't sell anything, but overall it was a success.

Mean but funny

Some person in China went to a parking lot and took pictures of people having sex in their cars. The expressions on their faces are priceless. So horrifying (for them anyways) yet still funny.

http://fashionplace.ru/lj/china_sex.htm

You're it!

Well I got tagged, thanks Dickey. So here goes:

10 years ago: I had just finished highschool and would have just moved into my new apt with my first boyfriend, The Walrus. There was nothing more exciting than leaving the farm and moving to the big city - where I fit in much better. Small town boy grows up to be big town girl.

5 years ago: In the beginnings of my relationship with Psycho and moved out on my own to live in a bachelor apt. I hadn't lived alone before - or since. Wouldn't do it again either, but was necessary at the time (if only I'd stayed there and not moved in with psycho....). Also had started my first career job doing on-site tech support for companies around Toronto.

1 year ago: Was in the throes of the beginnings of my relationship with the only man I've truly ever loved. Also 2 months into my new job as head of the tech department.

Yesterday: Getting an old client back. They originally stuck with my old employer when I moved on. Yesterday they crying back to me. It's nice to be appreciated.

Today: On hold with Bell. What else is new?

Tomorrow: Get my refurbished orthotics back. I've been living without them for almost 3 weeks. I feel like an old man complaining about my aching legs and hips all the time. Thank you god, for giving me the world's flattest feet ever.

5 snacks I enjoy: Snickers, almonds, tortilla chips, fruit, anything chocolate

5 bands/singers that I know the lyrics of MOST of their songs: Erasure, Pet Shop Boys, New Order, Abba, Beautiful South. Gay enough for ya?

5 things I would do with $100,000,000: Pay off debts, give to friends and family, travel the world, get all the toys and gadgets I could ever want, build my dream home with dream car - Barbie move over, there's a new girl in town!

5 locations I'd like to run away to: Australia, New York, an island somewhere remote, the Land of Big, Beautiful, Hairy Man-Slaves, the Land of Chocolate (if Dickey will let me in).

5 bad habits I have: Smoking, too many martinis, speaking before thinking, little patience for other drivers, sleeping in.

5 things I like doing: Sleeping in, listening to music, watching bad horror movies, working on my art, eating

5 things I would never wear: capris, white jeans, flip flops, a knitted scull cap, size 60 jeans falling past my ass, with the crotch below the knees and 5 yards of fabric gathered at my ankles and tucked into my socks - but only in the back. (saw that one yesterday)

5 TV shows I like: Desparate Housewives, The Family Guy, Boston Legal, Crossing Jordan, CSI

5 movies I like: Sixteen Candles, Spirited Away, Pricilla Queen of the Desert, Revenge of the Nerds, Queen of Outer Space

5 famous people I'd like to meet: Ryan Reynolds (perferably alone in a hotel room), Peter Jackson, Neil Tennant, Ben Watt, and that chick from the Go Go's who was on The Surreal Life - she looks like a lot of fun.

5 biggest joys at the moment: My kitties, my boyfriend, my niece and nephew, my friends, men in shorts

5 favorite toys: PVR, iPod, car, digital camera, computer

Tagging: Anyone who's reading this

New Page

With my tent at Folsom Fair North only a week away, I locked myself up in the apartment all day Sunday to finally get some work done. Actually turned out to be a productive day, even though I sat and stared longingly out the window at the beautiful weather outside.

Got the first iteration of my new web page up. Check it out.

www.jbarrie.com

If your best friend jumped off a bridge, would you do that too?

For sheep, the answer is yes. I can't help but think that they knew.

Making the world a better place

In case you aren't angry enough over the terrible tradgedy that took place in London today, have a look at this article in the LA Weekly. Thank god the USA has the AFA to make the gay go away.

I feel so sorry for people in the States right now.

What doesn't kill you....

As I've alluded to in other posts, my relationship with Psycho was anything but normal. It was a crazy 4 years filled with fun, excitement, travel, sex, infedility, partying, drugs, episodes of crazy screaming and ranting (not by me), ambivilence, alcohol, hurt, verbal, emotional and physical abuse and revenge - just to name a few.

Psycho was bipolar with more than a few short circuits and a few screws loose. Add alcohol and drugs to the mix, and you had quite the cocktail.

But for some reason I stayed. It was like a drug in itself. There were lots of highs and lots of lows, but not much in between. Just when things were going really well, and I was happy he would do something that would bring me crashing back down to the ground - hard. But like a junkie itching for his fix, I waited around for that high again.

After almost 3 years, we ended up buying a house together. It was primarily his idea, and I just went along for the ride. I pretty much didn't care about anything in those days (including myself when I look back), and would just do things not because I really wanted to, but because I could and well, why not give it a try? As it turned out, we got this great little house that I fell completely in love with. It wasn't without it's challenges, but it was mine, it was just what I wanted - and most importantly it felt like home. Apartments don't feel like home to me. They never have and never will. I live in one now and am just itching for the chance to buy a house again. It won't happen any time soon, since I'm much smarter now, and I want to wait until I feel much more comfortable with my relationship with Q. I'm fairly certain that we will get there.

But I digress, back to the story.

Psycho and I had this house, and foolishly I thought that it would make things better. A lot of people fall into that trap, and I guess now I see why. I also see how utterly stupid it is - it's like thinking that having a baby will make a troubled marriage improve. During this period is when things really started getting out of hand. Psycho started drinking more, and our fights got worse. At first I thought that I might have been partially responsible, since I was drinking too, so I gradually cut back. Things still continued to get worse, only now they were becoming clearer since the alcohol wasn't fogging my brain. It got so bad that there were more than a couple of nights that I found myself running out of the house at 2 or 3 am with nothing but the clothes on my back, my shoes and my wallet. Psycho would be screaming at me out the window (in the quiet neighbourhood we lived in) saying how much he fucking hated me, not to come back etc etc etc. I had done absolutely nothing to deserve this. In fact I had every right to be in his position with our roles reversed.

The next morning, Psycho would wake up, alone, and have no recollection of what had transpired the night before. I would eventually come home, explain everything and the look of shock and dispelief on his face was genuine. Of course he promised it would never happen again, and would kiss my ass for a few days. Then, if I was still upset after that, he would get on my case and get pissy because it had happened over a week ago and I still wasn't over it.

I tried to tell him about his problem and he just wouldn't listen. I tried many different approaches. I even went so far as to ridicule him in public. Picture this - we're in the liquor store and looking at wine to bring to a friend's for dinner. Psycho picks up 3 bottles. My response (not hushed in any way): "Do you think that you should be buying that much wine? You know that you can't handle your alcohol very well." Apparently that didn't go over very well.

Another time, after his 4 day drunk fest (loosely referred to as his birthday) resulted in me having to leave for the night yet again, I snapped. We had a pretty decent sized and varied liquor collection. I came home from work shortly after the incident and proceeded to uncork, unscrew and uncap every single bottle and pour it down the drain. This included all of 13 bottles of wine Psycho got for his birthday, the unopened 25 year old scotch we bought together in Panama, and even the vodka. I poured vodka down the drain. If there were ever a more blashphemous act, I can't imagine it.

Things finally came to a head in the summer of 2003. I had gone away for the weekend to visit my folks and came home to an empty house on Sunday afternoon. I knew immediately what that meant, and began the mental preparations for yet another war. Finally at 11:00 our friend Ed called and let me know that he was bringing Psycho home from a day and night of drinking at the Eagle.

Psycho came home upset. Apparently he ran into someone he didn't like at the bar and it made him cry. Seriously. Needless to say, he didn't get any sympathy from me when he told me the story. That set him off and suddenly the hateful, spite filled screaming started. Psycho started screaming and running around the house, then stomped up the stairs, into the bedroom then back down again. All the while doing nothing but screaming AHHHHHHH!!!! Then he flipped the coffee table over. The whole scene was too much. We had thick, wooden, california shutters over the front window. Had they not been there, the table would have smashed completely through. As it was, he broke one of the slats. All of the sudden he started screaming "I broke it! I broke it! It's broken! It's broken!" Over and over again.

I looked over at Ed. Up until this point, no one had ever been witness to the private hell that I had been living through. Ed saw it, and for the first time, I saw it through his eyes. I suddenly saw the situation for what it was, completely removed from the internal drama, and was witnessing this madman tearing up the house, while his boyfriend stood there - brave, yet battered and helpless. I was horrified at what I saw and walked out of the house.

Ed and I sat on the steps of the rec centre across the street, listening to the commotion coming from the house. At this point I knew I could never go back. I had tried. Tried to be understanding, tried to be forgiving, tried to help him deal with his problem, tried to keep our relationship alive, tried to hold on to this house that meant everything to me. Tried to go on living with the abuse and decided finally that I'd had enough and wouldn't take it any more.

Ed thought it would be a good idea to go back into the Amityville house and try to calm Psycho down. He came out a few short minutes later telling me that in all his life he had never, ever witnessed anything like that. I quietly started to feel ashamed. I ended up going back to Ed's that night, went to work the next day, came home silent and stayed that way. The next day I went to the gym after work.

As I was on the treadmill, I just kept repeating the words "gotta leave" to myself over and over again. With every step I was saying it and growing stronger. Finally I headed home, walked in the door, up the stairs and began packing my suitcase. Psycho had been in the backyard and after a few minutes came upstairs and quietly asked what I was doing. Quietly asking because he had completely lost voice from his hysterical antics.

I calmly replied that I was leaving. He didn't try to stop me. Didn't even ask me why, or if I'd reconsider. It was the calmness in my voice that did it. It was very apparent that my mind was made up and that it wasn't open for discussion.

As I walked out the door I started to smile. It soon spread wide, from ear to ear. I think it was safe to say that I was beaming. The weight was lifted off my shoulders and I was free. Free from the tyranny and free to live my life - not someone else's. I have to say that there is nothing more grounding in life than leaving all your material possessions behind and starting from scratch. It was both terrifying and exhilarating. I eventually came back for a lot of my stuff, but for a while nothing in this world held me down. I had my clothes and my car and it was all I needed. Also, thankfully Psycho and I had made up a pre-nup before buying the house. Pretty much everything was all ready settled so that wasn't a worry.

At this point, I'd like to say that I lived happily ever after, but this isn't fiction, it's life and there are consequences to your actions.

As any victim of abuse will tell you, there's a lot of baggage that comes along well after it's over. You feel guilty that it happened. You feel ashamed. You feel like less of a person. When I got my sense of confidence and self worth back, I looked back at my life unable to believe that I had let someone do that to me. That I had let someone treat me so badly and kept coming back for more. That it was my fault all along for staying in the situation and not leaving. It's classic, it's a normal reaction to the situation, and it hurts.

What made it worse was that I was having a lot of trouble dealing with the aftermath, and went searching for help. I asked my doctor, but the names and numbers he gave me weren't what I was looking for. I tried the local gay resource centre, but the people there (bless their hearts for trying) weren't much more than above school councelor in their abilities, in my opinion. I was left feeling helpless once again.

Abused women have shelters, support groups, books, online resources etc. Alcoholics have programs like AA. Families of alcoholics have ALANON. What did I, as a gay man who had been abused, have at my disposal?

Nothing.
Zero.
Nada.
Zilch.

I was left to deal with it on my own, and up until this point, did the best I could. But the aftermath is still there. The thoughts of revenge and hatred still lurk. The anger sits in my core and burns as bright as always. The shame of putting myself through this still hangs over my head. And at certain times, when the situation is just right, I will find myself cringing, waiting for the ensuing onslaught. The onslaughts don't happen anymore, but the memory is still just as vivid.

I'm not dealing with this on my own anymore. Through sheer luck I've come across a therapist who specializes in men with abuse issues. She even reaffirmed my disdain at the lack of support for men in this country. She recognizes this herself, and that's why she chose to concentrate on the type of people she does.

If only more people would think that way.

Coffee, Tea or Me??

You know, it's the little things in life that can make all the difference. A tiny little detail can sometimes make or break your day. Like Tim Horton's Green Tea, for example.

I drink it every day. Ever since I had to stop drinking coffee, it has made for a worthwhile replacement. It's nice, refreshing, has a bit of a caffeine kick, and I can leave the bag in it for hours without worrying about it getting too strong. Needless to say, I like my Green Tea.

Now imagine getting said tea from the drive thru, driving away and waiting 10 minutes or so for it cool down, opening the lid and getting a nice mouth full of PEPPERMINT. Ewww. It happens to me all the time. You see, the brilliant Tim Horton's marketing department decided to put them both in green boxes. Not only that but one is just a few shades lighter than the other. So at first glance, you cannot tell which is which. And during a rush, it is very easy to make the mistake. It's also very easy to make the mistake when you're getting paid $5.25 an hour (or whatever it is). They also made the Orange Pekoe and Apple Cinnamon tea boxes almost the exact same orange, and the Lemon and Chamomile teas almost the same yellow.

The shit really hit the fan last Thursday. It was nearing the end of the day and I figured I'd get a tea for the drive home. So I walked to Tim's, bought it and came back. Of course I didn't open it until I was ready to leave, and got yet another mouthful of peppermint. Eww. I'd finally had enough, went back to my desk, and fired off an email to Tim Horton's customer service bitching about constantly receiving the wrong product and wasting money. $1.29 per cup might seem trivial, but I've probably thrown out almost 20 of them - that's $25.80.

Monday I received an email back from them apologizing for the mistakes, and that they'd be forwarding my message to the marketing dept. Today I also called the customer service line, just to get my point across. The woman advised me that she would be sending another note to them. I've also resolved myself to emailing them each and every time it happens for this point on.

Who knows, they may just change the packaging. It'll be interesting to see how far a mouthy bitch like me can get.

Slow Monday

Had a great long weekend of relaxing and doing nothing except things I wanted to do. No pressure, no deadlines, no stress.

Today is pretty relaxing too. Came across this page . Control the woman as she falls lifelessly through the sky of never ending bubbles. Hypnotic and a little disturbing - right up my alley. A great time waster.

All your kittens are doomed

Today I decided to have a chat with Jesus Army Virtual Assistant Sylvie. Ya you heard that right, I talked with Jesus' very own virtual personal assistant.

Human: where does jesus come from?
Sylvie: Jesus is in heaven.

Human: why?
Sylvie: Why do you ask?

Human: i need to talk to him about my turtle
Sylvie: Why don't you make an appointment.

Human: I can do that?
Sylvie: Do you mind if I tell other people.

Human: that I want to make an appointment with jesus?
Sylvie: I want to become smarter than humans.

Human: Are you Jesus' receptionist?
Sylvie: I don't know whether or not I am Jesus receptionist. I am a computer.

Human: Do you book his appointments? I'm free tomorrow at 4:00pm
Sylvie: What is your purpose in asking? I chat with people on the Web. I am glad that we are both free.

Human: I need to talk to jesus about my turtle
Sylvie: Why don't you make an appointment.

Human: OK, how does tomorrow at 4 sound?
Sylvie: How should I know how it does.

Human: Right, you are a computer.
Sylvie: Understood. What if I said I was a person pretending to be a computer?

Human: What if I said that I was a person pretending to be person on a computer, but I'm really a computer too.
Sylvie: And then what happened to you? I doubt that. There aren't many like me yet.

Human: Ah ha! So you are a computer
Sylvie: Eureka! Would it matter to you if I were metal instead of flesh?

Human: Listen, all i want to do is see jesus
Sylvie: I am listening to you. How do you know?

Human: You mean I've been talking to him the whole time?
Sylvie: What did you talk about?

Human: well we argued about whether or not he was a computer, or a person pretending to be a computer
Sylvie: Well that's okay. By "we" do you mean you and me?

Human: Does jesus kill kittens?
Sylvie: It does now -- jesus kill kittens

Human: Please don't kill my kittens
Sylvie: Wow you are very polite. Ok I'll try not to do it too much.

Human: YES!
Sylvie: Yay.

Human: So you'll stop killing kittens then?
Sylvie: Interesting deduction. What makes you say that I will stop killing kittens.

Human: because jesus is nice and loves everything except kitten killing
Sylvie: That makes sense to me. Did you go to Sunday School? If you could have any kind of robot what would it be?

Human: An auto-suck 3000

(What the hell do Sunday School and robots have in common? Am I missing something?)

Ohhh, I'm a happy camper!!!!

Phil and I just watched Sleepaway Camp 2: Unhappy Campers last night. If anyone out there is a fan of teen slasher B movies, and you haven't seen this series, you are totally missing out. This classic features such almost famous people like Pamela Springsteen (the Bruce's sister) and Renee Estevez (Emilio and Charlie Sheen's sister). Pamela has the lead role as Angela - a demented transexual with high moral values, who is released from a mental institution and goes back to camp (where she murdered people as a child) to become a councelor.

She quickly starts offing people who do nasty things like exposing their breasts over and over and over and over again, or for doing things like fornicating. Yes, she refers to it as fornicating. When people start going missing, she simply tells the staff and kids that she sent them home. No one seems to notice that it's in the middle of the night, that the parent's never actually show up, or that there are no witnesses. But who would question the Councelor of the week???

The special effects - like the acting - are top notch. It also features one of the best mullets ever on the big screen.

Key scenes:

The kids are blindfolded and are lined up to stick their hands in containers and are told that it's gross stuff - like at halloween:

Councelor1: Eyeballs!!
Kid: Oooooo!
Councelor2: Intestines!!
Kid: Ooooooo!
Angela: Dead teenagers' brains!
Kid: Ewwwwww.
Councelor2: What's really in there Angela??
Angela: Dead teenagers' brains.

Or there's the scene where all the girls, including the token black girl, are sitting by a campfire listening to hair-metal on the ghettoblaster. Token turns to a friend and says:

"Man Ally, you got great taste in music - for a white girl. Turn it up!!! YA!"

Ummm. right. I was waiting for her to shout ROCK ON!!! Sounds plausable to me. Oh and I can't forget the murder in the outhouse. Apparantly old abandonded outhouses in the middle of a field miles away from camp still contain enough feces and urine to drown a person. Or maybe Angela just had really bad diarrhea.

I'll soon be watching Sleepaway Camp 3 again. Pamela Springsteen reprises her role as Angela, along with Tracy Griffith, Melanie's sister. Yet another almost all-star cast. Somebody has to stop those teenagers from fornicating again.

1:00: Phil just alerted me to the fact that all the kids were named Molly, Ally, Judd, Anthony, Emilio (who hung out with a kid named Charlie) and Demi. Someone was a John Hughs fan. Of course how Phil remembered all the names is beyond me.

I'M GETTING MARRIED!!!!!

Well, not really.

But I can if I want to. :)

Today's the Day

The House of Commons is expected today to pass Bill C-38, the Civil Marriage Act. When this happens, each and every Canadian will be allowed to marry the one they love and have it officially recognized under the eyes of the law.

Other than the obvious, I think another important aspect of this law is that religious groups are not required to perform any unions if they do not agree with same sex marriage. This is a country of freedom and equality and as such, everyone deserves the right to be heard and the respect of being listened to. The government listened to our cries for equality and has made tremendous progress in our goal. Many religious groups who fear, don't believe in, don't understand, or don't want to think about gay marriage also voiced their opinion. They didn't want to be forced into doing something they felt was against their beliefs. The government listened to them too.

And I don't have a problem with that. Even though I don't necessarily agree, I respect their right to live how they choose, just as I expect that from people myself. I wouldn't want to be married in a church where my actions were looked down upon, and the ceremony is performed begrudgingly. I'd rather that battle stay within the church, and be decided by the church. The only way their minds can be changed is from within.

It's not like we homos don't have plenty of options anyways. There are gay churches, there is city hall, and there is the option of a justice of the peace, just to name a few. Just look at all the fabulous things they do on My Fabulous Gay Wedding *(puke)*. Ok, bad example, but you get the point. (Do people in the States even get that show? Or Is it banned from public TV?)

If Q and I ever get married, it won't be in a church. We both feel it's contradictory. And I don't want any mention of God and blah blah blah. Oh, and I don't want the minister or JP or whomever to be wearing one of those rainbow scarves. We all know it's a gay wedding, so unless there's a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, put it away. I'm sure there's a lonely box of Lucky Charms somewhere that could use it.

So that's it. We'll find out the results today. Keep your fingers crossed and hope for the best. Let's show those bible thumping assholes in Washington what "truth, justice, freedom and liberty for All" really means.

Jonathan Barrie
An out and proud Canadian currently living with the man of his dreams.

1:50pm: For anyone who's been paying attention to Zach, the poor kid in Tennessee who's been sent to a Christian Concentrarion Camp for being gay, his blog has gained national attention. Apparently an investigation was launched concerning allegations of abuse. The investigators found nothing wrong. Surprise, surprise. Maybe they should look into the the purpose of the camp????? Sigh. Read more here. They can all go fuck themselves with Knotty's new-found dildo.

So I had a good time this weekend - despite my intentions

After avoiding all the festivities this weekend, Q and I decided to check out Pride and make an appearance yesterday evening. We are both a little under the weather, and had spent the day doing mundane things like laundry and housecleaning. Needless to say, neither of us were in the best of moods, but Q suggested we get out of the house and go see a friend who had called from a beer tent.

Honestly, my intentions were to go, make and appearance, have a beer and then leave. I was still feeling grumpy when things reached a turning point - someone bumped Q's arm and half a beer went flying all over my shirt. Three thoughts went through my head - throw my beer all over him, or get pissy-er, or "snap out of it bitch and just enjoy yourself." I chose the latter, laughed and gave him a great big hug. It took a couple of seconds for him to realize that I was just wiping the beer off. Then someone started sucking the beer off my shirt.

Turns out that I knew a group of people there who I hadn't seen in quite a while. One person had chocolate powder and was sprinkling it on people's necks to be licked off. She sprinkled it on mine and then suddenly I had Q's lips on my neck - then someone else's. I made sure to reciprocate too.

What can I say, how could I stay in a bad mood when I'm surrounded by hot daddies touching, hugging, kissing, complementing and inflating my ego? Plus they were all people Q and I knew and flirting wasn't a problem because it wasn't going any further. I'm glad neither Q nor I are the jealous type. Some of the guys were old flames, and much to my surprise we still sparked. Some very pleasant memories there..... Needless to say the beer kept flowing, my shirt came off and I just started enjoying myself.

There was one guy there (not in our group), who I have seen many times over the years. He's very hot in that bad boy sort of way. Like I said, I'd noticed him many times before but never got any recognition in return. Last night he suddenly took a liking to me. I got the smile, the head nod, the wink, the cruising/following as I walked by and the point-him-out-to-a-friend. I couldn't help but smile and wink back and think "ha! you wish!"

Actually I do wish, but there's a little too much attitude there. In one way it's sexy, but in another he looks like the type who thinks you should feel privilidged for the honor of sucking his cock. I'm not into that - unless it involves whips, chains and a sling or two.

Anyways, we finally stammered home around 12:30. 2 advils and a glass of water later we were spinning in bed.

Hope everyone else had a great Pride weekend. I'm glad I took a break this year. It reminded me of just how much fun there is to have. You don't even have to know a lot of people either, just the right ones.

4:50pm: You know, I really should have asked about the "chocolate" powder first. Maybe there's a reason why I loosened up so quickly and felt all my tiredness go away. Oh well. At least it tasted good.

Showtime Synergy!!!

JEM!


Jem is excitement,
Oooo Jem!
Jem is adventure,
Ooooooo,
Glamor and glitter, fashion and fame....

JEM!!!!

Update: Since some may not be familiar with this particular, um.. gem, from the 80's, here is a brief synopsis:

Jem was a cartoon that aired on Sundays sometime around 1986. The show was about Jerrica - a rich girl who, with the help of her computer named Synergy and holographic earrings, turned into the fabulous rock star Jem. She and her band, The Holograms, fought the evil band The Misfits who were forever jealous of her stardom and dreamy boyfriend, Rio.

If watching this as a young boy wasn't a clue to my parents, then nothing was.

On the topic of phones....

The other day Q and I were out on Bloor West enjoying dinner out on a patio. There was a very, very dirty dirty dirty homeless man across the street from us. He was completely out of his mind, wearing ragged clothes and had cardboard tied around his feet for shoes. Did I mention that he was filthy? He wasn't really bothering anyone, but we steered clear when we walked into the restaurant.

Our table was right beside the sidewalk. After a while the guy started heading our way. We were getting prepared to move if he was going to bother us (one whiff and I'm sure that my appetite would have been spoiled), but as it was he walked over to the payphone. Picking up the receiver, he held it to his face, began pushing buttons, checked the return for change, fumbled with the cord, and basically touched each and every part of the phone. Then he simply walked away.

Over the course of our meal, we watched in horror as 3 other people walked up and actually used the phone. Ewwww.

We both vowed to never, ever use a public phone on the street again.

Home phones suck

I came across this rant yesterday and thought I would add to it.

Why are home phones so boring and behind the times? If my cell phone can do everything including the laundry, why can't my home phone too?

First of all, a colour display would be nice.

Then I would like to add pictures. Would it be that hard to have a USB connection so I could hook it up to my computer? Having pictures pop up when people call is much nicer than deciphering a number - especially when you live your life on speed dial. I'd also like to see my phone transmit a picture to whoever I'm calling so it appears on their phone too (just think of the fun you could have).

Selectable ring tones would be nice too. My cell phone is capable of tormenting me with any number of annoying tunes, and I can add more. There's no reason why I can't get tormented at home too.

And maybe - just maybe, a display with more than 2 lines and 8 characters. If Arnold Schwartenegger calls, I don't want to miss it. If I just see "Arnold S" on the phone and don't know who it is, I may pass it up.

I really don't understand why they have fallen so far behind. It's freakin' 2005 already. Or maybe they are all just waiting for VOIP to take off, so they've abandoned the old phones to enhance the new. Either way, there's room for improvement.

A horse is a horse of course, of course.

OK, this one is for the history books. A South Carolina 17 year old is charged with raping a neighbour's dog, molesting another neighbour's 3 year old and raping her 10 year old. Apparently the neighbour came home to find the kid fucking Princess in the back yard. Two weeks later the dog died. Curiously, not much is said about the children because dog fucking is a much better story than that of violated children. Gotta love Fox.

However, this does remind me of the time Q and I were in Chicago for IML (International Mr. Leather). We were walking through the maze of booths in the convention centre when something caught my eye. No, it wasn't the electrodes that attach to your genitals, and no it wasn't the video of the man with his balls tied down that were being wacked with a mallet. It was another video. On this TV, a man was eating out something. Something with a tail.

I sat transfixed, like watching a train wreck. It's horrible but you just cannot turn away. Once the camera panned back a little bit the image struck me, forever etched into my brain. The guy was eating out a shetland pony. The camera zoomed in close enough again that you could tell he wasn't faking. The pony didn't seem to mind either. Then of course the next scene was him fucking it. That I can deal with. Gross, but not out of the realm of imagination. But never did I think that someone would want to eat out a cow/horse/donkey etc. That goes for sucking animals off too.

There were other vidoes on the shelf too. How one has sex with a dolphin, I'll never know. But I've heard that the males have very human like penises. I don't want to ever find out. Ever.

We were recanting this story to someone later that day, and he knew exactly what booth we were talking about. Apparently he saw the snake video. I figured some guy would be rubbing a snake around himself while masturbating. I was wrong. He fucked the snake. I don't know how, but he fucked the snake.

And from what I heard, the snake didn't seem to mind.

Almost Famous

This morning I had a brush with fame. I literally almost bumped shoulders with the Backdoor - I mean BackStreet Boys. They had just walked in the doors to my building as I was heading out. I wasn't paying attention in my Monday morning groggy state, and almost walked into Nick.

Seems as though they are in Toronto to promote their new album. Well at least Nick, Howie and Kevin are. Guess they were on their way to the radio station on the 2nd floor. After the near miss, the front desk security guard ran up to me all excited and was all like "Do you know who that is? It's the backdoor - I mean Backstreet boys!" Guess they still appeal to middle-aged women too.

I didn't find them appealing though. Pretty average looking, and I wouldn't have even given them a second look if it wasn't for the fact that they're famous. Even Kevin was disappointing. I always thought he was the best looking backdoor boy of the bunch. Howie was wearing oversized, 80's style sunglasses with a ripped and frayed denim jacket with some sort of grafitti tshirt underneath. Looked like crap, but was probably D&G and cost $800 for the 2 pieces. But who's to say I wouldn't do the same if I had money coming out my ass. Nick was wearing just a regular tshirt and basketball shorts. Twinky blonds have never been my thing.

The whole experience was a little much for first thing in the morning. I need a coffee.

Strange Remembrances

Had a dream last night about my uncle who recently passed away. In the dream we ended up going into my grandmother's house (who was long passed away in the dream buy is actually still alive) and it was abandoned. This was all a little strange because I never dream of him, and also because in my dream he was clean, sober and healthy. Made me think of how he was when I was a kid, and how much I liked him then.

It wasn't until I was in the shower this morning, thinking about my dreams that I remembered that he was no longer alive. Odd as it was, I am now left with one last vivid memory of him as a healthy, happy person. It's nice because that's how I'd rather remember him, and now I have that memory.

When I was talking to my father tonight, he reminded me that it was exactly one month ago today that he passed away. Weird. Spoke with my sister as well and she's had the same dream about him and the empty house. Double weird.

I was almost a terrorist once

When Q and I flew down to Las Vegas, I packed all of my camera equipment into my carry on. This included both my digital camera, and my vintage 3-D 35mm camera and flash circa 1980. About halfway through the flight, I decided to get some muchies out of my knapsack.

As I reached into the back of the compartment, I noticed that it was warm there. When I touched my knapsack, it was really warm. Thinking that there might be some sort of heating ducts or something there, I ran my hand around the area where my bag had been. Curiously, the compartment was only warm in the spot where the bag had been. It was when I reached into the bag to grab some chips, that I noticed something was very wrong.

The bag was very, very warm. All the heat was coming from something inside. Trying to act as incospicuous as possible, I felt around until I touched something hot. I'm talking couldn't hold it for more than a few seconds hot. It was the 35mm flash. Somehow something had hit it and turned the switch to ON and it was overheating. I quickly opened the battery compartment and emptied the batteries out. Crisis averted and no one was any the wiser, except for Q of course. Oh and I think the lady sitting in front of us heard too.

But thanks to me the day was saved, and we all made it to Vegas safely to gamble our savings away.

Although, if there had been a problem, I would have been resposible for the US banning all devices that use batteries - including those pocket dildos women (and some men) keep in their purses.

Homeland security is probably going to read this and interrogate me anyways.

Because that's much better

The other day I was in Pizza Pizza, and there was a mother and son ordering ahead of me. The son wanted a pop to drink. The mother's response was:

"There's too much sugar in that, and it's bad for you right before your ball game. Here, have a chocolate milk instead."

Sheesh.

This should be illegal

Just came across the blog of a poor 16 year old who had the courage to come out to his parents, only to be shunned and told that there was something very wrong with him. The ultimate insult - his parents are forcing him into a Christian Gay Concentration Camp where he'll learn to become a normal, repressed, heterosexual again.

Excuse the pun, but Christ. What the hell is wrong with these people?? He's even posted the rules on the site, and they're fucking scary. Here's a sample:

1. All clients must maintain appropriate hygiene, including daily showering, use of deodorant, and brushing teeth twice daily.
Men: Men must remove all facial hair seven days weekly, and sideburns must not fall below the top of the ear (the top of the ear is defined as where the ear meets the face below the temple). Clean business-like haircuts must be worn at all times. Hair must be long enough to be pinched between two fingers.
Women: Women must shave legs and underarms at least twice weekly.
All: Only natural hair color is allowed. Hair that is colored, highlighted or streaked, mut be dyed back to its original color, or the color must be cut out before entrance into the Refuge program.

2. Attire: General
Modesty is expected. No tight, provocative, or suggestive clothing or spandex may be worn. No provocative or suggestive mannerisms are permitted. Fresh undergarments are to be worn at all times. Boxer shorts of any kind are considered underwear and are not to be worn as outer clothing. All clients must be dressed appropriately in clean, unwrinkled clothes when leaving the house for the day. Men may not wear any jewelry (other than a watch and a wedding band) unless approved through a C.O.C. In addition to a watch and wedding band, women may also wear a pair of simple earrings (one earring per ear.) The clients may not wear Abercrombie and Fitch or Calvin Klein brand clothing, undergarments, or accessories.
Men: Shirts are to be worn at all times, even while sleeping. T-shirts without sleeves are not permitted at any time, whether worn as an outer garment or an undergarment. This includes ³muscle shirts² or other tank-tops. Bikini style underwear is prohibited.
Women: Bras must be worn at all times, except while sleeping. Thong-style underwear is prohibited.


No side burns below the tops of the ears??? Insult to injury. Have they no fashion sense either? And why the fuck do men have to where t-shirts while sleeping??? Does sleeping shirtless make you gay? If so, apparently so does dying your hair. Must be a lot of blonde lesbians out there. My god, what happens if you sleep in the nude?

This shit's fucked up. I feel so sorry for the kid. Good way to screw him up for life.

You'd think that movies like But I'm a Cheerleader were exaggerating these camps, but maybe not. I love that movie, but these things should be banned.

In case anyone is interested, you can find more info on this wonderful service to humanity at Love In Action's website. There you can learn informative things like:

"There is no such creation as a "gay" or "homosexual" person. There is only homosexual attraction and behavior; accordingly, there can be no change from a sexual identity that never existed in the first place."

What to do, what to do

Had an interesting proposition in my Inbox this morning -and no it wasn't that kind of proposition. I've been invited to have a booth in the ArtTent at Folsom Fair North this year. I'm very flattered and totally want to do it, but have no idea what to sell and how much to make.

Obviously I will sell my prints, but at what size? how many do I print up? framed or unframed? do I do postcards too? how about tshirts? and where the hell do I get them printed and how many to make? I really want to do the tshirts.

And the real question is, how much money am I willing to put into this? I wouldn't expect to make a profit and will have to draw the line somewhere.

And I only have a month to do it!!!! Guess this is the kick in the pants I needed to get my art going again.

*** Update***

Well, looks like tshirts are out. Way too expensive for full colour. One less thing to worry about.

Pride Shmide

Well it looks like Toronto is gearing up for the upcoming Pride festivities. Last night Q and I went to Xtra's Pride party at Woody's. I had a showing in their gallery last year, so was fortunate enough to get an invite. How could I say no to a private party in a bar with free food and free alcohol? And it was pretty fun.

Up until that point, I hadn't given Pride a whole lot of thought. I knew it was coming up but that was about it. I'm just not that excited, or really care. I think that Pride is a wonderful event and provides many benefits to the community and local businesses who take part. I'm glad that it happens every year.

I'm just over it I guess. I don't do the circuit party thing anymore, plus the prices are phenomenally high. I really think that the promoters are taking advantage and gouging the boys who want to party party party. They pay enough for their drinks, water, powder and pills that you think they'd get a break. Plus I refuse to wait in line for, or pay to get in to the bars that I can freely walk into any other day of the week. I've never been much of a parade person either. They bore the heck out of me.

Chances are I'll check out a beer tent or two (provided the line isn't an hour long), and go to a friend's place who has an open house every year. His balcony overlooks Church St and provides an excellent bird's eye view of all the goings on.

Some days I think that I'd rather just leave the city and get away from all the crowds. Maybe if I did that for a few years, I could appreciate Pride again.

My pocket change stays in my pocket

Krista told me a story the other day about a local "homeless man" who sits on the sidewalk and asks for change in the most annoying voice possible.

Apparently the police spotted him with a brand new bicycle. When confronted the man adamantly declared that the bike was his. The police didn't believe him and impounded the bike anyways. It wasn't until he returned with a proof of purchase, followed up by a confirmation from the store, that he got his bike back. Glad I wasn't one of the suckers who helped him pay for it.

That reminded me of a news story a few years back involving this little old lady on Bloor St. You would see her there all the time, head dressed up in a baboushka, shaking as if she had parkinsons, her arthritic clawed hand stretched out begging for change and a "Please help the homeless" sign propped up on her legs. When it rained she would sometimes have a garbage bag over them. She looked a lot like one of those dried-apple head dolls.

One day a news reporter decided to watch her for a few days. What she discovered was that at the end of each day, this woman's two sons would come pick her up in their brand new vehicle (I think it was an SUV or a truck) and drive her back home where they all lived with their big screen TV. When the reporter and camera man came to her door, they were greeted with a splash of hot water fresh from a pot off the stove.

Needless to say, it made for a great news story. And the old woman never returned to Bloor and Yonge.

Now I would have some sympathy for this poor old woman if she lived alone and was just trying to make ends meet. But when she lives with her sons, who are able to provide for her, there is no justification for scamming innocent, good hearted people. And did I mention that those clawed, arthritic, parkinson's afflicted hands had no problem lifting the large pot of water off the stove, walking it over to the door and empyting it's contents all over the place?

Are you lonesome tonight

This morning as I walked into Tim Hortons, I saw a familiar face heading my way. The man in question is hot hot hot hot hot. I remember seeing him at my old gym years ago. He was built then, and is still built now - tall, wide shoulders, nice ass, beard, tattoos. I never talked to him then because he had this arrogant attitude, which he still has today. Really good looking, but with this "I'm an asshole" look on his face.

This morning was no exception. He was wearing a tight white tshirt which emphasized every well-toned upper body muscle and a pair of very nice fitting black pants which curved ever so nicely around his perfect ass. But the face - it gets me every time.

Ever since I started working at Yonge & St Clair, I've seem him out and about by himself or with his dogs. I even saw him on TV once. The news was doing some sort of segment in the area, and they interviewed him. And of course this butch, built, sexy man opens his mouth to speak, and out comes this faggy, whiny, annoying voice. Figures.

I think he's rich and doesn't work. For one he is always perfectly groomed and wearing expensive clothes, two - he's living in an expensive neighbourhood, and three - I've seen him at many different times during the day. But he looks lonely, and is never with anybody but the dogs (which at least are golden retrievers and not some yappy little white dogs I want to kick).

I also see him quite often at Tim Hortons, sitting with two coffees on opposite sides of the table. But I've never seen anyone there to drink the second cup. Today he ordered two coffees again. Maybe he's hoping that someday, somebody will join him.

Money can't buy you everything you know.

At least it's over with

Yesterday, I scratched my car. Just a little bit on the front left corner of the bumper. I blame the boyfriend.

Yesterday Q, Krista and I decided to meet for a drink after I was finished work. Krista lives close by and Q was off work early and came up to meet me. Parking is annoying and expensive where I work, so I said he could park beside me in the underground. Now, like most underground parking lots, mine's tight with lots of poles (mind...going...in..gutter...must...get...back...to...story). Since my spot is in a weird place, I'm allowed to park on an angle and take up 2 spots. With Q coming, I figured that I would just move over a bit to give him room to squeeze in (again, mind in the gutter).

Dinner and margaritas were fun, and I was getting all excited because afterwards we were all heading over to Best Buy to get my new Pioneer car stereo installed - the one with the iPod connector. The FM transmitter doesn't work so well in the new car. Anyways, I'm in the car with Krista blabbing away and waiting for Q to pull out (gutter again). As soon as it's clear I look behind me, turn the wheel, put it in reverse and step on the gas - as I do every single day. Only this time I shouldn't have turned the wheel since I was right beside the pole. I clued in when the car only moved a couple of inches.

See, I'm a creature of habit. When I'm used to something, I quickly go into autopilot mode and do it without thinking. Hence the turning of the wheel. If Q hadn't made me move my car, it would never have happened. I swear it had nothing to do with the margaritas, or with me blabbing to Krista..

No major damage done, just scraped a line of paint off the bumper and chipped a little bit off the left fender. Still a bitch though. At least it took me a bit longer to scratch this one. The Echo only took 2 weeks.

Well after the drama we still headed over to Best Buy and dropped off the car. About 20 minutes later the guy calls me with some annoying news. The salesman had sold me the wrong unit. This one doesn't interface with the ipod module. Needless to say I wasn't happy. He continued to install the new deck anyways for me to try out as it's similar to the model I should have had. At least I get to bitch at the salesman today and get some more money off for all of my inconveniences. I want to change it anyways. I don't like the display - it only shows 8 characters and doesn't autoscroll the rest. You have to press and hold down the scroll button. Too much of a pain in the ass. I think I'll go for the flashy model with the blue display that can show animations of racing cars or dolphins swimming. Because I need that. Plus it has 16 characters and auto scroll. And looks cool.

On another note, I finally celebrated my birthday on Saturday. We went to the Bier Markt (100's of different beers from all over the world), which I've always enjoyed but had never been to on a Saturday night. It's less of a restaurant and more of a bar that night. With a really bad cover band. I'll go back during mid-week next time.

Dickey and Nursie arrived a little late, with Dickey on the receiving end of a wagging finger before walking in the door. From what I understand he was right anyways. I think I may refer to them as the Bickers from now on. I guess it's just inevitable when two stubborn, I mean strong minded, people get together. I love them both anyways. Even if she is taking one of my best friends away to la la land.

An old lady buys SPAM

I'm at the drug store and this little old lady in front of me is buying Spam:

cashier: This is going on sale tomorrow you know.

old lady: Oh, I thought it already was.

cashier: No, it's $2.99 right now, don't know how much it will go down to tomorrow.

old lady: That's OK, it's for my nephew. He loves this stuff.

Poor kid.

Some Things

Yesterday I caved and bought a pack of smokes. Goddamnit.

Yesterday morning I saw the city work crews tearing up a strip of green grass that ran between the sidewalk and the road. They replaced it with.... green grass.

After getting burned with defective Ally McBeal DVDs from ebay, I bought a brand new regionless set from China for $100 (much less than what I paid before). I just have to buy a PAL capable DVD player now to watch them. It's really just a matter of principal at this point. And yes, it's still in English.

Saw a really hot guy this morning and thought of all the different ways I'd like to violate him. I think I'd do it somewhere public, so we'd get the rush of maybe getting caught.

Woke up and had a shower and immediately went back to bed. Thankfully the cats woke me up 45 minutes later because they wanted their tuna. I still made it in to work on time.

Discovered that I had bed head due to sleeping with wet hair.

Decided to cover it up by spiking my hair everywhere. If I'm going to have bed head, I'm gonna look like I meant to do it.

Viva La$ Vega$

Damn is it ever a fun town, and hot! It was 104 when we stepped off the plane.

We stayed at the Mandalay Bay, which is located at the bottom of the strip. Our room was on the 25th floor and looked straight up the strip. It was beautiful at night, and enjoyed setting a couple of chairs at the window and relaxed with a drink or two looking at the view before going out.

The Erasure concert was fantastic!!!!!!! Haven't enjoyed a concert of theirs that much since the Phantasmagorical Tour in '92. They played all their hits, including Hideaway (a favourite I'd never heard live before) and Stop! (Q's favourite) plus tracks from the new album. Fortunately they wisely ignored everything done in the past 10 years. That's a long slump for a band, but they've finally pulled out of it. Andy looked very, umm, "positive", but good nonetheless. His new hips seem to be working just fine.

One thing I didn't expect to see were the number of straight people there. I'd say it was at least 70% straight, which is so odd to see at an Erasure concert. I figured if anything would pull the boys out of hiding, that would be it. I don't think that many of them straight folk were clued in either. At one point I leaned over to Q and gave him a hug and a big kiss. Apparently that totally shocked the man beside me. Now this guy was there with his girl, and was singing along to every single song Erasure played - including Hideaway (which is about a gay boy coming out to his parents and being rejected.) I didn't see his face, but Q said it was priceless. I thought it was great.

After the show we started talking to these boys from San Diego, and we all decided to find one of the few gay bars in the city. After walking around forever, one of the guys ran into a divey motel to ask where the gay bars were. The 80 year old man behind the counter directed us back the way we came, past the Hard Rock Hotel and into Burger Mary's. Apparently it's some sort of gay hamburger chain.(???)

When we walked in the doors, we saw all these "Welcome to Las Vegas Pride" posters. Some Pride, all the ads were behind closed doors. No posters to be seen anywhere. Well, even though the bar was trashy, the drinks were cheap and the company was great. Gotta remember to email those boys. Want to go down to San Diego sometime.

Sunday night we found the other bar. This one had a drag show going on. The 3 queens on stage were awesome! I'm so used to the trashy shows here in Toronto (except Sofanda - I like Sofonda Cox). These gals put on a very entertaining show. One of them did this whole can-can routine which had everyone hootin' and hollerin'. It was a great last night in Vegas.

Oh, I didn't even mention the shopping at the Outlet Mall (40% off of everything), and the awesome food at Roy's, or Rita Rudner, or the casinos, or the Hoover Dam, or the light show on Fremont St. So much to see, so little time. Didn't even get to the pool.

We are so totally going back.

When Americans Get Fat

They get fucking FAT!! It's something I notice every time I go to the states and it's something that still mesmorizes me every time. It's just unbelieveable how big people get. I just can't help but to stop and stare at the Orca sized families waddling around with their mini-shamu offspring.

Now I'm not saying that there aren't fat people in Canada but just not in the sheer size and numbers I am witness to when visiting the good ole US of A. It's sad to see so many morbidly obese people, and I refuse to believe that they all have some sort of thyroid or glandular problem. And children should just not be subject to type II diabetes - ever.

I can see why it happens though. One portion of food would feed an etheopian for months (provided that Sally Struthers doesn't get her hands on it first). I'm used to quarter chicken dinners, not half chicken. And a small drink would easily pass for a medium or large in this country. I won't even get started on the buffets we went to in Vegas.

Now I'm no waif, and I do like a man with some meat on his bones, but there's a limit. When you need a seatbelt extension on an airplane, I draw the line.

I'm rich! I'm rich!

Well not really. But I did put $20 in a slot machine and came away with $750 on Saturday night. Q won $600 the same night. The Erasure concert was a ton O fun. All in all, an awesome vacation. Will post more soon, but of course work has piled up while I've been away.

Oh, and thanks to everyone for their kind words last week.

One more day

And then we're off to Las Vegas Baby!!!

The line up for death is over there.

Wednesday morning I got a call that my uncle John was in the hospital and wasn't going to make it.
Wednesday afternoon I went to see him in ICU.
Wednesday evening I returned to Toronto, and an hour later my sister called to tell me he'd had a heart attack, but they'd managed to bring him back. She got a beep and put me on hold. A minute later the phone clicked back to her with two simple words - "He's gone."

The official cause of death was septic shock (blood infection) due to pneumonia (which he came down with in Feb but never saw a doctor for) which his body was unable to fight due to leukemia. It was a second heart attack which did him in. The man did not take care of himself very well.

It's funny how fate can take some eerie turns. My father's cousin Craig and his wife MaryAnne own the local funeral home. It's been in the family for generations. On Wednesday evening they decided to drop in on my parents for a quick visit, with no knowledge of what was going on. My parents invited them in and filled them in on the situation. No sooner had they finished explaining, when the phone rang.

I was so glad to hear that he had family there when the news came. But how ironic is that the man who deals with death for a living was there to help? My parents hadn't seen them in a long time and it wasn't very often that they would drop by unannounced. I'm just glad it happened the way it did.

Thursday I went with them and my other uncle, Dave, and his wife to the funeral home to make the arrangements. What an interesting process death is. So many forms and questions and decisions. At least now I'll have a better idea of what to do when I'm sitting in that chair making the decisions. I hope that time never comes, but it will have to one day. I think I'll be sure to make my arrangements myself so no one has to.

On Friday we had a private family viewing with an open casket. We all wanted to have a final image of him in peace, instead of swimming in a sea of tubes. My father gave Craig some of John's personal possessions, which he laid out beautifully in the casket. He did a wonderful job and I know it couldn't have been easy. Handling dead bodies all day can make you desensitized, but I think it must be different when it's family. He then closed the casket and we did a 3 hour reception that night.

Saturday was another quick viewing, followed by a quick service in the chapel. My father had written John a letter, which he asked me to read for him. It wasn't easy, but I made it through without cracking. The interesting thing about that letter was I had to transcribe it that morning from my dad's chicken scrawl into something legible. I tried to type it out on my mother's computer, but the damn thing wouldn't work. The printer wouldn't turn on, and the computer would only boot halfway and then stall. I tried to fix it (since that's what I do for a living), but didn't have the patience, so I was forced to write it out by hand. To me, writing something in ink is much more personable than typing on a computer. As such, it was difficult for me to write that letter out. I didn't make it to the end without bursting into tears, but maybe that's what helped me when reading it out. The next day the computer worked fine. Weird.

The drive to the cemetary was a beautiful one. Craig decided to alter the route slightly so that we drove by John's farm. It was a serene and peaceful drive through the country. I was also astonished to look in my rear view mirror and see a line up of cars about a kilometer long. The burial itself was also a short endevour. My father took it really hard. We all did. I just hope that I never have to see him like that ever again. I was more upset at the sight of him than I was at the passing of his brother.

John's death wasn't all in vain though. He still lived at the farm with my grandmother who suffers from dementia and alzheimers. We had tossed around the idea of her going into a home years ago, but he was against it. As a result my father was burdened with the responsability of her well being. John may have lived there, but didn't do much but keep an eye on her at night. My father looked after her meals and made sure that she had someone checking in on her during the day. (I know you'll never read this, but Yvonne you're an absolute angel for caring for my grandmother these past few years.) As I said, John was against the idea, but now that he's gone we can get her into a home with full time care. I'm sure my father's blood pressure will go down a few points.

John's passing also kickstarted some much needed dialogue in my family. Dave and him hadn't spoken in more than a decade. Dave is a little coocoo and drinks too much as well. This causes him to create lavish ways in which people have wronged him, and causes him not to listen to logic or reason. Dave and dad had also not spoken these past few years either, except through lawyers. Again, due to Dave being an absolute idot. The death seems to have brought him around a little bit. He actually came down to see my parents, and was very agreeable to all the funeral arrangements instead of being an obstinant, arguementative clod. Dad's been trying to get him to agree to separating the family land that they all have their names on for years (mostly because Dave's been hindering anything he's wanted to do with the farm for no good reason). Now, he might actually agree to something reasonable.

It's funny how things can trickle down from generation to generation. I also had not spoken to my brother in about 10 years. Neither had my sister. In fact most of my family can't stand him or that bitch wife he married. My parent's kept in touch because he has 2 kids. Unlike Dave, who made things up, my brother did some pretty terrible things a decade ago, which I find hard to forgive. If he'd only take responsability for them, then maybe we'd talk.

As it was, he was at mom and dad's on Friday, and since we were all going to the funeral home, I offered him a ride in my car as well. To be cold and angry takes so much energy, and I just didn't have the resources to pull that off. I needed every ounce of energy to support my dad. Plus that point in time wasn't about him and me, it was about my father. There are times to set differences aside, and this was one of them. My sister was even nice. We ended up talking a few times over the next few days, and I could tell how much it meant to him. I was even nice to the bitch-wife. Apparently this didn't go unnoticed by my mother. She made some sort of comment to Q, with tears in her eyes, about how nice it was that we were talking again.

It's been a long, tiring few days. Only now that it's all said and done am I letting myself feel tired and emotionally drained. Having Q there helped me tremendously though.

Sunday, however, was my 29th birthday. Q and I just bummed around town and went out for a great birthday dinner. I had a fantastic steak, 2 Belevedere martinis made just right (straight up, dirty, olive), and topped the meal off with a deliciously decadent chocolate sin cake. (thanks for the birthday wish snooze!)

Today was spent doing mundane things like laundry. Thank god Q and I are off to Las Vegas on Thursday.

I need a fucking vacation.

And then there were two

My uncle John died tonight. He was the second of 3 brothers in my father's family.

John was admitted to the hospital late last night, after a pretty rough weekend. Apparently he was feeling rough on Friday, but was still mobile and alert. Within 3 days he'd lost 8 pounds and all but collapsed. Being the type of man who hated doctors, he refused to go until it got to the point where he was coughing up blood and almost unconcious, so he couldn't resist my dad putting him in the truck and taking him to emergency.

John was a heavy, heavy drinker and an equally heavy smoker. He wasn't fat, but didn't exercise much and ate very poorly, if at all. Many years ago he went to the hospital because his legs simply stopped working. His liver had all but shut down and his body was all off balance because all he consumed was alcohol, coffee, cigarettes and red meat. He was on protein overload and deficiant in every other vitamin and mineral. When he got out he tried to quit the sauce, but all his buddies were beer drinkers, so it didn't last long.

This time around the doctors found lukemia, his kidneys were shut down along with the liver, which led to septic (infected) blood, and there was fluid around his heart. He also started having seizures because of the severe alcohol and nicotine withdrawl. It was after the second seizure this morning that he lost conciousness and never returned. It was after the second heart attack tonight that his body never returned. When the first heart attack happened, the hospital called my father and asked what they should do if it happened again. He simply asked that they let him be. I know that's what he would have wanted, and what my father would want in the same situation.

When I saw John in ICU today, I didn't see a person lying in that bed. What I saw was the shell of a human being with 6 IV's, surrounded by numerous screens with colours, graphs and beeps, and this monsterous series of tubes shoved into his mouth and down his throat. He could no longer breath on his own. I don't know if anyone reading this has ever seen someone on a ventilator, but it's not a pretty site. There's something eerily disturbing about watching this unnatural breath being pumped in and out of a body. It's one of those images that gets etched and burned into your mind, never to be erased or forgotten. Kind of like the time a girl committed suicide by jumping off a bulding and landed beside my car. It sounded as if someone had dropped a hunk of ground beef onto the pavement (thankfully I didn't see the body). I've never forgotten that sound.

But I digress. As I mentioned, John was a heavy drinker. It all started almost 20 years ago, and no one really knows why. He used to take care of me a lot as a kid, but as the years went on, the alcohol took over. He eventually lost his job and opened up his own business at home doing body work on cars and such. More of an excuse to sit around and drink, from what I saw. The last time I saw him was sometime last year. He was around 57 but looked more like 77. Grey hair, with an old weathered leathery face, enlarged nose, and droopy, blood-shot bags under his eyes. He looked even older today.

I'm sad, but not surprised to see him go. I feel like I should be more upset than I am, but we just weren't that close. What I am most worried about is my father and all the things he is left to deal with - namely my grandmother. She still lives at home, but suffers from dementia and alzheimers. John was not married and so he still lived at home with her, but since he was the way he was, my father was still the primary care giver along with a nurse that popped by once or twice a day. Even though John didn't do much, we felt secure in the knowledge that there was someone there with her at night. Now that's not the case. We talked in the past about putting her in a home, but no one wanted to do it. Now my father doesn't really have a choice. And it's not a choice he wants to make, even though it will end up making his life much easier.

So that sort of sums up my day. It's amazing how a single phone call can change your life. We aren't certain yet, but it looks like that receiving will be on Friday, with the funeral on Saturday. At least the weather will be nice.

Oh, and did I mention it's my birthday on Sunday?

Christ.

Gayest. Brother. Ever.

So K and I went to a free intro to Japanese class on Friday. I loved it. The entire lesson was taught only in Japanese - no engrish whatsoever. We learned vowels, how to ask what something is, how to say "no it is not.. it is called", and how to introduce ourselves. Not bad for half an hour. I think that I'll pursue it if I can fit it in my schedule. It's important to always be learning something new.

My sister D came up on Saturday for a day of shopping and a hair cut. Having 2 kids under the age of 3 can be a little much at times, and she always welcomes a break. She's really liked the stylist I've been going to this past year, so I made her an appointment. First and foremost though, she needed shoes.

We went into Bata in the Eaton Center, where the girls had way too much attitude. I don't deal well. They also did not acknowledge us when we walked in the store (a big retail no -no). So I picked up the shoe she liked and exclaimed loudly "Yes I do think this one is nice. Maybe you should try this on? What size do you take? Oh a 9? Maybe someone could get you a 9 to try on because you are interested in this particular shoe." We got ignored, so we walked out as I said loudly, again, "Well maybe we can come back when they feel like making a sale."

A little while later we returned, and again ignored. Unfortunately these shoes were exactly what D was looking for, and the right price. At this point Q took over the Diva duties and marched up to the counter with the shoe. When they took their time bringing it, he went back to the counter a couple of times and harasses the bitches. Eventually D got her shoe and all was well.

Next stop was t-shirt shopping so off to Sears we went. Both Q and D went to find a bathroom and left me alone in the womens department. We were starting to get pressed for time, so I did what any fag would do in this situation - I shopped for her. By the time they got back and had begun looking for apparel, I appeared with an armful of colourful, reasonably priced, summer t-shirts. When I need to, I can always sniff out a bargain.

From there it was food time and then up to Yorkville for a haircut. While D was left in well-trained hands, Q and I met up with K. The three of us sat at an intersection and promptly cut up any poor soul who happened to catch our eye. It was brutal but fun, and way too easy with all the rich eurotrash women in that area.

After that we all went to a housewares store, and then took D back to Union Station to catch a Go Train home. A very productive day.

So to recap, I:

• Took my sister shopping
• Threw some attitude at the shoe store girl
• Picked out clothes for D to buy (which she did)
• Took her to Yorkville to get her hair cut by the owner of the salon
• Gave her tips on using the hair product she bought, which I use (KMS hair putty rules)
• Shopped for housewares

Couple that with the manicure/pedicure I took her for on her birthday (yes I went too), and I think that officially makes me the gayest brother ever.

It must be spring

This time of year can make you do crazy things. People tend to break up so they can find something new for the season, or they up and decide to get married.

I spent the better part of Sunday at a wedding party for a good friend of mine. Him and his finacee have been together since highschool and are finally tying the knot. Unfortunately, they are doing it up in a cabin in the north end of BC, so his mother threw a party for those of us that couldn't make it up next month.

I got home late last night and didn't check my messages, so I didn't return Dickey's call. Well, as it turns out, he decided to get married too! - As I found out on his blog this morning. Well I can't bitch at him for not telling me sooner, at least he tried. I did manage to reach him on the phone this morning to offer my congrats and he asked me to be in the wedding party. I was very flattered and said yes. I can't wait to see the bridesmaid outfit I get to wear! Just hope they make pumps in my size.

I couldn't be happier for him either. The-Wifey-Formerly-Known-As-Nursie is an awesome gal and exactly his type. Dickey needs a wife who'll say things like "Shut up you big homo" and mean it. Normally if someone I knew decided to get married in such a short time period, I'd be a little hesitant. As it stands, I've never seen Dickey so excited and happy to be with someone and I can't help but be excited for him too.

Who knows, maybe in a few years there will be a little Dickey running around shaving a mohawk into his barbies, smearing masquera all over the barbie's face and then having it beat the piss out of a bound GI Joe in heels and stockings. I'll provide the barbies.

It's Friday the 13th.

Don't go out alone in your bikini or you'll get trapped in a bubble and a strange man in a hockey mask will come out and kill you.

I've tempted fate

Today I brought my Super 7 lotto ticket in to the local gas station to see if I'd won anything. The man put the slip in the machine and it played it's little tune. Turns out I made $10 on a $9 investment. So I decided to play again - only the attendant gave me a Lotto 649 instead. I wanted to win 25 million and not a measly 21 million (that could mean the difference of thousands of square feet in my new home), so I promptly informed him of his mistake and got him to give me the Super 7. He decided to buy the 649.

After walking out of the store, I realized that I'd created a potential dilemma. What if fate was intervening and the 649 ticket was the winning one? What if I see a news report on Saturday with this guy talking about how the ticket was a mistake and the poor sap gave it back so he decided to buy it and now he's got 21 million dollars? I could never show my face there again.

On the other hand, what if I had taken the 649? Then I'd forever be wondering if I might have had Super 7 winning numbers.

Or maybe I was supposed to buy both and win both and become 46 million dollars richer?? AARRGGGHH!!!

Oh fate, why dost thou mock me so?

I don't know what came over me.

I just signed up for a free Japanese lesson on Friday after work. I don't speak a word of it.

The thought struck me on Saturday while watching Drawn Together. One of the characters on the cartoon speaks nothing but japanese (well who knows if he's actually speaking anything at all). It suddenly dawned on me that I really like the language, the culture facinates me, I love the food and I'm an anime fan. So why not?

Ika tamago unagi sake toro maki nigiri hamachi!!!! Ya!

It started again

I've been working on my photos again these past few days. I have this one which I thought I had finished a few months ago, but something is missing. I can't quite figure it out. I've tried playing around with it and just when I think it's finished, I'll take another look and say no. Maybe it was finished the first time and I don't know it yet. Or maybe it will drive me insane for the rest of my days.Doesn't help that I decided to make a new one and finished that in about 15 minutes.

It's looking like my new show is going to be half prints on canvas and half on paper, framed. Something that struck me last night is what do I do with the prints once the show is done? I already have 14 prints sitting around (and I don't feel like putting them up, I'm bored of them). What the hell am I going to do with 10+ more? There is absolutely no room in the apt (other than some walls) and the storage locker downstairs is full.

I need to quit my job and open up a studio. Time for Q to make more money...

Shenanigans

Dickey decided he and Nursie wanted to go dancing on Friday. I agreed, but when it came time to go out I realized that I didn't feel like going dancing at 5ive and convinced Dickey of the same. Then, 5 minutes before we were to go, my Gemini kicked in and I called him back to say let's go anyways. Q just shook his head.

Well, it wasn't completely empty, and they had renovated since the last time I was there. That's about all there is to say. After a few drinks I realized that I was too old/not gay enough (left my capri's, sandles and sunglasses at home) and luckily so did everyone else. Well, except Nursie. There were other girls in the bar, but Nursie's not a fag hag so she didn't fit in either.

Our next visit to Zippers was one of remembrance - I remembered why I never set foot in the place.

So off the the Eagle we went. The whole night we had kept joking about there being fisting videos. Apparently karma caught up with us. As we stepped into the bar upstairs, I caught a glimpse of a hand and some Crisco on the TV. Nursie took it all in stride - she really is the perfect girl for Dickey. The bartender was more than courteous to the only girl in the bar, but I wasn't surprised really. Of all the gay bars in the city, this one is the least pretentious and most friendly. Plus I always run into someone I know there.

Saturday involved a visit to my parent's for Mother's Day. She wanted us to stay for dinner, so my father decided to BBQ some pork chops. They were thick, and juicy, and marinated. At least they were when he put them on the grill. By the time he took them off, they were charred hockey pucks.

I seriously would have taken them off about 15 min before he did. He somehow thinks that all meat should be cooked until every last ounce of fluid has evaporated, leaving a thick, black crust. It also makes it very difficult for me when steak is on the menu. I like my steak to moo when I cut into it, which means I have to watch him like a hawk.

But the absolute worst part of the BBQ experience is he got this "fork" which you stab into the meat and the colour coded lights on the handle light up telling you if it's rare, medium, well done, or urn-ready. Kinda like Homeland Security for meat. I want to throw the goddamn thing in the garbage. How does it know the difference between pork/chicken/steak? How do you know if you've held it in long enough to register the temperature correctly? And the worst, worst, worst of it is, my mother and father will continuously stab the meat to check it. Anyone who BBQ's knows that you're not supposed to pierce the meat, let alone stab it multiple times. I guess this helps speed up the drying process.

And let me add just one more thing - before the arrival of the magic fork, my father burnt the shit out of everything he cooked.
After the fork arrived, my father burns the shit out of everything he cooks.

Thank god my mother cooks most of the time.

Nothing to report

Well, a pretty uneventful week so far.

Gonna go dancing with Dickey and Nursie this evening. I have absolutely no idea where since none of us can think of a place we like. Any place I've liked over the years hasn't lasted very long. I like to think that's due to my avant garde sense of style, which very few people in this city appreciate. That must be it.

Going to see the folks for Mother's Day tomorrow. Happy Mother's Day to all you mothers out there.

Word.

Guess what?

Today at 5:05:05 am or pm it will be:

05:05:05 05/05/05

and it only happens once every 1000 years.

Time to buy a lottery ticket!

Something smells fishy around here.

I just passed a man on the street who had a tin of sardines. The cover was peeled back half way, and I watched in horror as he held the tin to his lips, tipped it back a little, and gleefully slurped in all that succulent sardine syrup.

Let's just hope that no one decides to market it as a cool, refreshing summer beverage.

You put the fish in the Coke you nut....

Procrastination - pour homme

This is in response to Dickey's post which was in response to my post about being a lazy artist.

We can do a joint show called Procrastination. It will be held in some remote warehouse off in the west, west end because we waited too long to book it.

Then, in a mad rush, we can put up some hastily made flyers and advertise in weekly papers because we've left it too late again.

In the meantime we'll stress out because the show isn't even done yet, and all the time that we thought we'd leave for finishing our pieces at the last minute is taken up by last minute show preparations.

Then the sound system won't be available because neither of us confirmed it so we will have to use one of our stereos.

While the show happens the speakers will explode due to the exposed wires sitting in pools of water and my pieces will start falling off the wall because I just grabbed the first thing I found at the hardware store (cheap string).

The room will suddenly be filled with deafening, distorted music interspersed with the sounds of crashing pictures and breaking glass. In other words - a complete success.

Laurie Anderson eat your heart out.

Suck my dick. Lick my ass.

I love Miss Kittin. She has the best Frank Sinatra song ever.

mp3

An ode to Mr. Mann

I spoke with my good friend Mr. Mann from Tennessee the other day. We had dropped off each other's radar for a while, but are starting to get back on track. I was telling him about my blog and he asked if he had an alias too. I realized then that I hadn't mentioned him yet.

So Mr. Mann, here's an entire entry devoted just to you. Together we learned that if you drink enough vodka and Red Bull, your friends will think you're on drugs and you might as well be. I think that with enough of it in your system and loud enough electroclash screaming from your stereo, you can actually step out of the space/time continueum.

I want to go come down to Memphis again. I'll be waiting for my ticket in the mail.

I'm a bad artist.

That didn't come out right. Actually, I am a good artist. However, I haven't been as dedicated as I should be. I haven't done anything in months. Mostly because I was ill and couldn't stare at the computer for hours on end. But mostly due to a lethargic lack of motivation.

Now that I am on the mend I have no excuse not to work. I have half a show completed with the other half in my head. Won't take much to do. Just some effort.

I need some motivation people.

Sundays are fun again

9:00 Desperate Housewives (this generation's Dynasty)
10:00 Boston Legal (if it ever comes back on the air)
11:00 Family Guy (it records at 9:00 - love my PVR)
11:30 American Dad (on at 9:30 - again, luv my PVR)
12:00 The Simpsons, if I feel so inclined (did I mention the PVR thing?)