Contemporary Mix Of Genius

Take a bite

2011-03-27T21:51:00.004-04:00

I'm craving papaya, not even gonna lie.

I've been playing a lot of fruit ninja these days, still despite my best efforts I can't top Samson's high score. Do I persevere or accept defeat?

I'm leaving the country on Wednesday. I'm not sure when I'll be back or what I'll be like when I do.

In the meantime you can observe my evolution here. I was thinking about making a tumblr account but I don't really know what that means...

I don't want to abandon ship, even though everyone else has.

I've been feeling like a lot less of a genius lately, I haven't had an inspired thought in ages. I'm on the phone while I write this... I have a real issue with talking on the phone.

I have to use a headset cause my ears get uncomfortable. I never know what to say most of the time, it's like I'm crazy and I'm having an internal monologue. Or it's like inception where the conversation is just a figment of my imagination. You should tell her you love her.

Dimethyltryptamine

2011-01-13T01:04:00.002-05:00

What do you long for? What do you dream about? Ever seen a ghost or a spaceship?

Honestly at this point, I'd fucking believe anything.

The coolest thing about faith, not just religious faith but faith in anything is that you're making the choice to believe. To be a functional human being in the information age means to question everything. I have a hard time believing anything because there's so much bullshit in the world. To have faith in anything is really special because it's easy to just assume everything is made up. If we lived in a world where there were no mysteries and no lies you wouldn't even have a concept of faith because you'd have no doubt.

Your humanity is filled with doubt.

So to have faith in anything aside from the certainty of death, is very important to me. I don't want to have unfounded beliefs though, I want to believe in stuff for good reasons.

What do you believe in?

Where the fucks my pen?

2010-11-24T23:34:00.003-05:00

How do I get more people to read this blog? How are we gonna get rich from this blog?

If I told you I'd give you 20 bucks to read this and tell all your friends would you do it?

I probably can't afford that...

I wonder if one day they won't teach kids how to write, just how to type.

Why leave a sticky note on your fridge when you can just have a digital fridge with a screen and shit?

I don't think it would be all that bad honestly. I bet kids would be a lot more visually creative with regards to drawing and painting. If all you knew how to use your hands for was esoteric ideas then you'd probably get pretty good at it. I'm shit at drawing, I look at people who can draw the things they see, or even better, the things they imagine. HOW IS THAT EVEN POSSIBLE?!?!?!?!

That I can have an idea and put it on paper to directly translate that idea to another human being FUCKING BLOWS MY MIND.

Maybe I'm just a burnout.

Did you think about your career when you were a kid? Did you picture your husband or wife? Your house? Did you ever imagine that you would start losing friends to their jobs or their lovers? I miss days when everyone was around with absolutely nothing better to do than to loiter in Tim Hortons or outside whoever's party we just got kicked out of.

Sure I'm legal so I can go to whatever the fuck bar or club I want to but what fun is that if you can't do it with the people you want to do it with.

Am I being a bummer? It's probably just the seasonal affective disorder kicking in.

S.A.D.

What a cruel acronym... Doctors and psychologists obviously have a seriously fucked up sense of humour.

It's like if the scientific name for cancer spelled out D.E.A.D.

Whoops, I'm not supposed to make cancer/aids/schizophrenia jokes anymore. I forget that there are people out there I could very easily be offending. Sorry!

It's A Bush Not Your Bush!

2010-11-17T12:52:00.004-05:00

Nothing happens after the cameraman sits down.

*This article is based on the video*

A lot of people consider laws to be the only thing stopping us from ripping ourselves apart. This means in the past we were ripping ourselves apart and someone got us to stop. That someone is God... God has stopped everyone from hurting each other. Allow me to explain.

The creation of God provided the need for translators. The translators explain what God does, and what God wants, and how God wants it done. A few lucky coincidences like predicting a flood because you understand water levels or harvesting a large crop because you know a better way to farm the land. Helps confirm the translators message and his position.

We have a God, we have a translator and the point of all this is to promote whatever it is God wants. For different translators there are different end games. In the case of most translators the end game is a large empire. Since you can't build an empire on your own the people must be harvested.

Harvesting people is difficult but the best way it seems is to make them believe they are safe. Laws are the pesticide that keeps the crops safe. The pests are criminals who don't follow the law and may damage the crops.

So if Google changes the world and I grow tall enough to see whats happening on the porch of the mansion then maybe the laws are good. But if I never see above of the undergrowth what have the laws done other than provide me with a shaded space? Will I be cut early from the crops because of my small need for valuable resources? Hopefully natural forces will help me grow or at least spread my seed into the wild because I believe there was a natural equilibrium. All this man made stuff always seems to cost money.

Do You Know Where Your Children Are?

2010-11-09T21:37:00.006-05:00

So as far as the douchebag issue is concerned, I guess we'll beat them up AND THEN kill them.

I had a frightening thought the other day.

I saw a girl who was about my age taking care of a bunch of little children in an aftercare program. She was the sole source of responsibility. She alone had to take care of these munchkins, she was an adult. Yet she was my age...

Am I an adult??? Impossible.

I am not and it's becoming more and obvious that I will probably never be an adult.

I couldn't fathom making that transformation into adulthood, I haven't really changed in like 5 years... Are we all just little kids in adult bodies?

I think "adults" get along often just based on the fact that they're all in on the same joke.

I'd have to assume most people go their whole lives at the mental capacity of an 18 year-old. You're surrounded by utter insanity on this planet and it's probably gonna stay like that until you're old and grey. Meanwhile, upstairs you're still going to look at life through the same "light scum-brown lens" that you've been wearing since you lost your virginity. For those of you who aren't there yet, fear not cause even sex doesn't really change things all that much.

Just dicks and pussies...

Try holding someone's hand. Maintain eye contact with a complete stranger. Stuff like that is actually intense. Hold up a bank.

I figure some things really do make you more of an adult, but probably not a mortgage or a 9-5 day shift. I think things like birth and loss really change a person.

Really when I think about it, I actually like that I'll be the same for the rest of my life. I'd hate to turn into some kind of fucking stiff later on in life. Maybe all my future prostate exams will eventually just turn me into a bitter asshole. I hope not.

I like who I am and if I really needed to change I wouldn't be waiting to grow up just to do it.

Big Ups!

2010-11-03T22:02:00.003-04:00

So every once in awhile I'm gonna hop up in my throne and tell you guys what kind of media you should be ingesting. I have the best taste so just obey!

First off is a track from my buddy Pablo AKA Guapo of the Saints. This video is pretty dope but homeboy needs to put brakes on his bike. MADNESS!!!

Ever heard of Sub Focus? Ever heard of dubstep? Me neither, it's okay just listen.

Last it's Das Racist. If you haven't heard by now, you can pretend I didn't tell you about this and act all cool and shit.

KARATE CHOP!!!!

I Aint Ever Scared

2010-10-27T11:29:00.006-04:00

Douchebags, scumbags, bums and the more illusive bumbags e.i. bummiest bagiticus.

What does it all mean? Who are these people and why can't we kill em all dead?

DOUCHBAGS:
Easily the most distinguishable from the species of ne'er-do-wells. Their physical features are on par with the idea of the alpha male. Unfortunately these same looks create a side effect of arrogance and a sense of entitlement. A douchebag's biggest problem is that he/she believes their actions are meaningful and must be noted and recognized while ignoring all other actions. Often a douchebag is confused with an asshole because they look and sound similar. The difference between the two is an asshole get's a lot of sex and a douchebag is too horrendous to consider a palpable mate

Physical Attributes
-Polo popped collar
-sunglasses
-into some sort of extreme sport

Habitat
-all ages bars
-manager's office

Call
The douchebag's call is a mixture of swearing and salacious comments to the opposite sex

SCUMBAGS:
Probably the realist people in the world. The scumbag's life is simple; self satisfaction is everything. Unlike the douchebag who ignores those around him because of some sort of mental block the scumbag lives among others but does not care for them. Psychologists would describe the scumbag as the modern man not familiar with the concept of a past or future and ultimately living in the present. A scumbag is interested in the primitive pleasures that is; food, sex, and entertainment and he/she will satisfy these pleasures at the cost of "moral considerability." That is not to say the scumbag does not follow some sort of moral code. There are many papers on the philosophy of scumbags some say it originates from a Nietzsche perspective. Since the ultimate answer to life is unattainable all our actions to describe what the truth is must be fake. To avoid this fakeness a scumbag will act on nothing other than instinct.

Physical Attributes
-N/A a scumbag is an abstract it is more of an idea than an identity

Habitat
-N/A a scumbag could be anyone at anytime in any place

Call
-A distinct raspy and mocking laugh that serves as a demoralizing tool for the victims of a scumbag. This is the only true way to identify whether someone is following the scumbag code.

BUMS:
Are people forced into being scumbags through financial failure. It is important to separate bums from scumbags because one must realize if given a choice a bum will most definitely not want to be a scumbag.

N.B. some have argued that if finances defines a bum then a douchebag or scumbag could commit financial failure to become a bum. This, however, is impossible because a scumbag or douchebag loosing money is obviously due to the fact that they are scumbags or douchebags in the first place.

BUMBAGS:
A hybrid of bum and scumbag. There is not to much information on what a bumbag is but there are theories as to where a bumbag comes from. Some feel a bum bag is first a bum who uses a scumbag mentality to rise above financial failure. Having said that, there are scumbags who feint financial troubles in order to be considered a bum and thus receive undue sympathy. Researchers believe the scumbag money fake out is the true bumbag and the bum who makes money has not realized they are no longer a bum.

WHY CANT WE KILL EM DEAD?
Using the stance of "land ethics" first introduced by Aldo Leopold I would argue that we cant kill any of these beings because that would disrupt the energy circuit. That is to say life as we know it would not be the same without these beings. Some argue that jerks are pretty much the same as all of these beings and we could just replace the population of douchebags, scumbags and bums with jerks. They go on to say managing a jerk population is easier than dealing with the more dangerous minds of bag-ery. Unfortunately this would change the energy circuit into a new pattern where regular people have an easier life without getting scammed on. Growing innocent and weak our species would inevitability be eaten alive by the Tiger or more realistically the Liger. In conclusion watch ya back hommie....

At least I'm not a vegetable

2010-10-26T01:36:00.008-04:00

What do you do with douchebags? They're everywhere. They seep into your daily life at work, at school. They even ambush you in random encounters. *Cue battle music*

Don't get me wrong, Jersey Shore is pretty hilarious but if you had to live in a house with those people I don't think you'd be laughing very hard. Unless by laughing you mean slitting your wrists; then yes.

VERY HARD.

I recently found out that some guy called me a fruit pretty much to my face a few months ago. I apparently didn't hear, otherwise my brain just muted the person's big stupid mouth so I wouldn't do something uncalled for. I can't fully picture myself being in the kind of mental condition where I would go around calling strangers "fruit" within earshot, but I can only imagine it would be coming from some kind of deep-seeded insecurity. Keep in mind, this guy used to roll/deal/go out/date/go steady with my girlfriend, and she is the person he directly said the word fruit to, even though I was more or less standing next to her. Perhaps he was just jealous.

Still, I feel as though blaming that kind of behaviour on insecurity or jealousy is what your mom does when you get bullied at school.

"Oh, don't worry honey, Billy only split your ballsack open with a wet towel in the changeroom because he's insecure and is probably having some problems at home."

THANKS MOM :)

Above is a picture of two handfuls of turkey testicles.

So I'm not sure what to believe. Maybe this guy was hoping that I was a fruit so he could run some game on me, maybe steal me from my girlfriend. Maybe that's just how he greets people. I guess it's more important to think about what I would have done if I had heard him call me a fruit. I probably would just tell him to go away. Getting upset at being called a fruit definitely just validates your fruit status. The guy probably just didn't get his 8-10 servings that day and had fruits on his mind.

If I was a fruit, what kind would I be?

(All the racists simultaneously scream WATERMELON!!!!)

I think if I was a fruit I'd be a Durian A.K.A. King Fruit. Cause it's spiky and badass, plus it smells bad. FUCK YEAH. Don't mess with the king.

The most important thing to note is that I'm not a fruit. As far as I can tell I am a human bean, which is a legume, NOT A FRUIT!!

At one point I seem to remember while this guy was talking to my girlfriend he was lifting up his shirt! WHO DOES THAT??? In just a regular conversation! You're not The Situation, keep your clothes on dude. Same goes for all the guys on social networking site. We get it, you work on your abs and you're proud of them, but please keep your clothes on until you're actually getting laid. Nobody likes a showoff, except for people who like showoffs and that's okay because nobody likes them either.

Don't take this as me getting worked up about it. More than anything I'm just confused with the way people act sometimes. Maybe he was looking for a scrap. Maybe he was hoping I would fight him and lose so he'd look cool in front of my girlfriend.

I guess I'll never know. If there's anything I can leave behind in this world, I hope it's a shred of douchebag awareness. You guys need to know about the dangers out there.

I'm thinking I'll just bring back, "Talk to the hand!"

Maybe you guys have the solution to the asshole epidemic, cause I'm running out of ideas.

Times should be hard... somehow they aren't.

2010-10-22T18:14:00.005-04:00

What a long, strange time it's been. I've missed you all. I've missed this. But now that I'm king, I feel I have a much greater incentive to share my thoughts with you all once again.

KIDDING!

I know my place. Even if things are different now, we're all still a team and there are no kings or pawns, just the stage and YOU! Our lovely audience. I'm sure you've noticed the change in layout and stuff, but fear not. We're still the same bloggers you know and love.

Now, to business!

Since I last wrote, I've purchased a new bike. I ride a fixed gear so basically I'm a hipster and I love Pabst and organic meats. I only listen to music you've never heard of because I don't even understand the meaning of the word conformity.

All jokes aside, I do actually ride fixed and It's a lot more fun than you'd think. It's like learning how to ride a bike all over again, that same sense of satisfaction is there once you've got it all figured out. Now I'm like the wind once more.

I got stopped by the police last night for not having a light. My bike is all black and as of late -- much to my girlfriend's dismay -- I've taken a liking to dressing in all black. Fuck, I must be 20...

There still have been no leads regarding the guy who ran me over a few months ago. Police are kind of useless when it comes to stuff like this. Where's Batman when you need him? I'm thinking I'm just gonna go out and look for the dude who did it. Too bad I was kind of in shock and I actually have no idea what he looked like.

I'm planning on buying something called a Maschine. I know for certain that Deadmau5, Booka Shade, Krazy Baldhead and Xaphoon from Chiddy Bang all own one. As of lately I've been brimming with music ideas, the only issue is that I don't really have the means to bring them into reality. Talking with producers can be really difficult because a lot of the time they're busy or just don't really get around to getting real work done. This doesn't apply to everyone but you can see how it might be frustrating.

So I'm thinking I'll take it into my own hands and see where things go.

But danger lurks around the corner.

On Monday at around 4pm I'm going to be fired from my job at The Rushton. My manager hates my guts, the owner refuses to get involved. I only had one shift this week and next week I'm not on the schedule at all. As a matter of fact I didn't even get the schedule. So I get a call today asking me to come in on monday to speak to the manager.

What's the verdict? I'm thinking...

FIRED!

I'm not really too concerned, I actually hate that place and I'm looking for another job anyways.

In other news,

If you have boardwalk for McDonalds Monopoly, I have Park Place so if you need someone to split a million dollars with, I'm your man.

Change of the Guard

2010-10-09T07:50:00.002-04:00

Let’s not make this awkward. Let bygones be bygones. Like two girlfriends
who haven’t spoken in three years and suddenly run into each other at the
cashier. Let’s just hug and kiss and I’ll tell you guys what I’ve been up
to.

Well, nothing has changed but everything is pretty different now. I’m
happily married, a newlywed for about a week and am expecting a child early
2011. I am graduating this month and I am finally getting paid proper
because I got a job that University graduates are supposed to get.

So if you were a person who watches Oprah you might say things are coming
together nicely.

I suspected a large paradigm shift, a mass movement of my subconscious.
And, although I would say I experience the world though a slightly
different tint the previous tint would be described as scum brown, the new
one…scum light brown.

I’m pretty much the same fucking guy, baaahahahaha.

I was reading some of my old posts and realized I still hold many of the
same sentiments from 2006. Homeless people still confuse and inspire me,
black history month is still a perturbed farce and babies still need to
smarten up, although when I have my child I may lighten up on that point a
bit.

So what does this mean for my faithful 12 readers? I am actually less busy
than I was four months ago. I expect to start writing again, but not in
the same role as I once had. Kid Vincent now owns Contemporary Mix of
Genius. He has been given all owner and admin rights and I’m pretty
excited because he has more friends than I do, so more people will start
reading the blog. I will still write, but only as contributor. Rusi has
only ever written when he channels the spirit of Nunavut Polar Bears, so
that’s what is up with him. Jamesforlife is not allowed to write anymore,
so if he tries there will be repercussions.

So Vincent has full creative discretion he can change the default colours
if he wanted to, if I don’t like it, tough for me I guess and maybe I just
won’t contribute or something. I asked my wife what she thinks of Vincent
taking over and she said no.

“He’s just a Kid who wants to be the king.”

Hilarious.

I think my flickr account got disabled or something because I haven’t used
it in so long, now we have no banners…he’s going to have to figure that
shit out.

Okay so all the administration stuff is out of the way. My next post will
probably be about how I scammed my way into homeless territory and stole
the Riders bike.

Update: Got the banners back

Had to do it again!

2010-07-27T01:04:00.004-04:00

SHAMELESS ADVERTISEMENT TIME.

My good friend Sven, long time CMoGer and extraordinary gentleman is promoting Toilet Paper all over canada.
Toilet Paper HATES CANCER.

You should hate cancer too, it's the worst.

So Sven and Toilet Paper are asking that you "like" Toilet paper on social networking site so it can kill cancer once and for all by throwing money at it. For every person that "likes" toilet paper and "hates" cancer, Toilet Paper's distributors and propagators will spend another dollar killing cancer. Money is Toilet Paper's sidekick and together with the help of Sven they will save the world.

Just click here and "like" Toilet Paper.

What would you do without Toilet Paper? You'd have a shitty asshole. You'd probably have cancer too.

And the living is easy...

2010-07-14T20:33:00.009-04:00

Oh man.

What do we do here again? I can't quite figure it out. I tried navigating to this page just now and I couldn't even remember the URL.

LAWL! NERD JOKE!!!
FORGETFULNESS.

A lot of things change in people's lives during the summer. Friends come back from out of town, other friends leave to travel the globe. Sometimes old lovers that you totally forgot about show up with new haircuts or butt implants and you see them in a whole new light. It's a time for heartbreaks and it's a time for new beginnings. It's also a time for bikers to get hit by motor vehicles.

So I work at a pretty ritzy restaurant these days. Hold your horses. I didn't say I work/live at the Ritz. I said I work at a ritzy restaurant. It's called The Rushton (Ritz Carleton-esque(but not really)) Anyways, this job, where I endure hours of insults and degrading comments from a 5 foot tall columbian woman AKA My Boss, is what's got my pockets feeling chubby these days. Not fat... Just chubby.

Husky is probably more accurate.

I bus tables and get yelled at for not realizing with my own powers of reasoning that sweet potato fries only come with garlic aoli, NOT KETCHUP.

So me, my husky wallet and my deflated sense of self-esteem took ourselves out to Scarborough to purchase a pretty red Miele road bike from a kind, middle aged Asian(presumably chinese but if I'm wrong, no racial, guys.) couple I met on craigslist.

It rode like a real beauty. My little Italian vixen. If she bore anything in common with an Italian woman, it was her looks, but also her temperament. The bike came with really small, one-sided pedals so whenever you shifted gears or hit a bump, your feet would slide right off. Within the first week I was riding up Dufferin after having purchased a pair of Calvin Klein dress pants for mad cheap.

WINNERS FTW

Sidenote: I hate dress pants. I only bought them cause at a restaurant as high class as The Rushton, "THERE IS NO WAY I CAN BE COMING TO WORK WEARING JEANS." sigh... They were black jeans and they were nice too. But jeans NONETHELESS!!!

In the middle of Dufferin St, both my feet come flying off my pedals for no apparent reason and I am unable to find my balance. I get launched off my bike and it now has a dented front tire.

I go to work bleeding, get yelled at for bleeding, am refused any bandages or gauze, bleed some more and then go home at the end of my shift. I don't worry too much about my accident, every new bike is gonna take some getting used to right? I'll spend my next paycheck on some new pedals for my bike, right? WRONG.

My friend takes my bike for a ride one day and tells me that because my front tire is dented, I run the risk of having it collapse under too much pressure, resulting in me becoming a piece of meat at the side of the road.

I ride it anyways.

I don't become meat, I'm actually quite fine, sort of. INSTEAD...

Not only do I nearly get fired from The Rushton for not upholding their standards of perfection in apparently every aspect of my performance, (My manager isn't one to give compliments. If you're not getting yelled at, you're doing a stellar job. I get yelled at all the time.)
but on my way to meet my friends downtown, (I'm riding extra slow to avoid having my front wheel collapse with the spokes impale me in several different places) I'm going through a fucking intersection, it's my light, I have the right of way blah blah blah and I GET HIT BY A CAR. I fully saw the guy, I figured I'd zip right past him. Nope, he decided that just as I was in front of the vehicle he would pump the gas.

As I'm gliding over the hood of the car I find myself feeling really exhilirated more than anything. I hit the ground, ripped my arm open AGAIN and sat up only to give the guy driving a thumbs up. He drove away after he saw I was in such good spirits, while I look over to see my bicycle is a mangled mess. At least the front wheel didn't kill me....

His license plate was stuck between my back wheel spokes so I filed a police report while some girl hung out with me until my friends came to meet me. If anything goes down she's my witness. I HAVE HER ON FACEBOOK!!!

I now have no bike, I only work morning shifts because my manager can't stand to see my allegedly incompetent face and all I have to show for it is... Uh....

Well...

At the very least I get to say I've been hit by a car, which in all honesty isn't nearly as bad as everyone makes it out to be.

More A Reflex Than Anything Else

2010-06-18T08:43:00.003-04:00

No need to look at me like that. I get this all the time. I know you saw me looking but I was just curious, I see a pair of legs like that dozens of times a day. A dime a dozen I tell you, so wipe that look off your face because to assume I was fantasizing about anything other then you maybe becoming a personal fetcher, and fetching my personal things after a hard days work is beyond presumptuous on your part, and actually borders on inexcusable public self-gratification. And really, if you need your ego stroked by wearing that skirt, (whose fabric seemed vaguely exotic to me and piqued my curiosity bringing this whole situation to its current predicament)…If you need that self-gratification by every man who walks by you then just go home and stick an onion if your fat vagina. Yes, I can tell your vagina is fat because of your slim form fitting exotic fabric skirt. I’m not saying its (editors note: the vagina’s) not nice it just looks like it has taken on a bit of water weight is all. I know women get bloated at times so I actually don’t hold it against you.

No, I’m not saying your ugly, actually you’re fairly attractive in relative terms. You know, relative to your race, weight, place of business, those types of things, but I would have looked down if you looked like Chewbacca…Why? Because of the goddamn exotic fabric that’s why, and your crotch peeking little hello glances at me. Is that a floral pattern? I’ve never seen flowers like that…lilies? You don’t say. Well listen, I’m happy we straightened this whole mess out, I’m not interested in you and you're not interested in me so I think we should exchange the common place pleasantries of our respective cultures and be on our way! What’s that look? You mean you are interested in me….Well I don’t want to come off as an ass hat, but I was getting that feeling, I have a knack for things like that you see, especially when you start looking at my hair. Don’t look at my hair that way and don’t ask any questions about it either. I’m not being an asshole…I can just tell we would never work, you with your shallowness and all. Why, I can tell you’re shallow because of that skirt. Is that silk? I've never seen a skirt made of silk with that kind of floral pattern, the workmanship of it really is incredible. No, I’m not flirting with you. No, I do not have an erection. (editor’s note: I do have an erection, but it’s just a small one and entirely [editors note: mostly] coincidental) That happens sometimes and you shouldn’t take it as an invitation.

Okay so we’ve both looked at each others crotches, and I’ve admitted you’re attractive and you think I’m pretty interesting but really you’re not my type, do you even know what a dragon's tooth sword is? Let me just shake your hand and once you depart I’ll forget this ever happened. I have a memory like that; it’s finicky like an old stapler. You know there are staples in there but it won’t staple. Dave asks me if I’m sure there are staples in it, and I’m thinking you’re even dumber than I am if you think I don’t know there are not staples in this goddamn stapler, meanwhile I’m discretely trying to open a new pack of staples and get it into the stapler before Dave demands to examine the stapler himself…if he does it’ll be an embarrassment alright, my face will get hotter than Paris Hilton’s lexicon. (sigh)

I don’t think I got your name. Nice to meet you they call me Handstyle. Well who the fuck are you (editors note: word implores me to write: "who the fuck is you." Word is from Mexico?) to say that’s a weird name, you go to Mongolia and they think Susan is a pretty rotten name too. I didn’t mean to make you upset, why do girls become upset so easily, they’re so emotional you would think they would earn enough skill points in that area to manage their emotions more effectively.

So you’re not interested anymore? Well that is invariably what happens on these chance encounters. (editors note: I notice the skirt has a neat little plead in it as she walks away)

Need more frosted flakes

2010-06-03T22:00:00.003-04:00

So this is the part of the night where I try and stay awake for 4 more hours before I have to go to work so I can finally fall asleep.

I had work yesterday morning at 10am. I got there at 2pm. It was probably one of the worst mornings of my life. And while there was no murder, mystery or intrigue involved, unlike most of my mornings, it was fucking shitty. It's bad enough having you mother who's been awake since 7 in the morning ask you at 12 noon why you didn't go to work, but on top of that, when you borrow your friends bike to rush to work, the bike fucks up when you try to change gears in the middle of college street. 30 minutes later I manage to get the chain back on and it's semi-smooth sailing. I get to work and I do the usual (aka, play harvest moon for snes until my brain feels somewhat reminiscent of yogurt or creme brule) Usually I just sleep at work, which is what I'm planning on doing today once I get there. But I swear on my life I WILL NOT BE LATE. The bike mechanic up the street says I'll have to come in tomorrow to have it fixed. I fixed it myself in literally 20 seconds after I left the shop.

I kind of enjoy having my hands covered in grease to be honest. It makes me feel more manly, more useful. It's like proof to people that you've been up to something somewhat manually demanding and perhaps even slightly important in some way or another. People are so cynical these days, a little grease really put's people in their place. My hands are still filthy, I think I might just leave them like this forever, I'm a big fan of the look.

What is creme brule anyways?

Throwing Smoke? That Sounds Cool Too!

2010-05-29T14:27:00.003-04:00

Ever felt like you don’t have the resources to make your dreams a reality? I don’t mean having a Jacuzzi and secret sauna in your basement for business deals. Suffice it to say you know what I mean, I know what you mean too. We understand each other. And on to the main feature.

Throwing Smoke

LOL get me off this team

So I asked to be traded. No dice. At the end of my second minor league season I was hoping I would get some offers from other ball clubs who were interested in prospects. Turns out I’m not even allowed to become a free agent. The Rays reeled me in for decent 97 000. I know… I’m pretty much balling at the ripe age of 24.

Midway through May I was called up to AAA Durham Bulls. Obviously this manager had some sense because he offered me the closer role off the fuckin bat. Or so I thought. After closing ten games, ten saves, and a microscopic 1.59 era I was sent back to the mid relief. Why? Because I was slacking on my fielding training! Someone needs to get my out of the Rays farm. It’s run by morons, I mean Mormons. I few weeks after that I was back in AA. Attitude problems they cited. Rampant alcoholism and sexual assault was more like it. But I was performing on the mound, isn’t that the only thing that should matter? How did I handle my demotion? I promptly started working on my K/9 (strikeouts per nine innings). I just started striking fuckers out, because I’m a boss. I finished the season in Montgomery AA.

As spring season ended I got a letter from the general manager. It read something like this? Wanna pitch for the Rays in late inning relief for 300K. Fuckin Eh.

. No dice. At the end of my second minor league season I was hoping I would get some offers from other ball clubs who were interested in prospects. Turns out I’m not even allowed to become a free agent. The Rays reeled me in for decent 97 000. I know… I’m pretty much balling at the ripe age of 24.

Midway through May I was called up to AAA Durham Bulls. Obviously this manager had some sense because he offered me the closer role off the fuckin bat. Or so I thought. After closing ten games, ten saves, and a microscopic 1.59 era I was sent back to the mid relief. Why? Because I was slacking on my fielding training! Someone needs to get my out of the Rays farm. It’s run by morons, I mean Mormons. I few weeks after that I was back in AA. Attitude problems they cited. Rampant alcoholism and sexual assault was more like it. But I was performing on the mound, isn’t that the only thing that should matter? How did I handle my demotion? I promptly started working on my K/9 (strikeouts per nine innings). I just started striking fuckers out, because I’m a boss. I finished the season in Montgomery AA.

As spring season ended I got a letter from the general manager. It read something like this? Wanna pitch for the Rays in late inning relief for 300K. Fuckin Eh.

I Need a Dollar

2010-05-25T03:21:00.004-04:00

Ever pissed on a police department in New York? Me neither. I'm sitter here typing outside right next to one and I really have to go. I'll probably just go inside to do it.

I can never fight the feeling that sometimes I'm not taking enough risks. If I were to die in the next 15 minutes, I'd probably wish I had done more reckless shit with my life. Base jumping, or hang gliding, or swimming with manta rays. Brooklyn is way more tame than I ever could have imagined. So many hipsters. So many fixed gear bikes. Maybe I'm in heaven, should I hate it here?

I don't.

Is there such thing as a dollar cab? my friend insists that they exist. I've heard that it's just slang for the subway. Who knows.

What I do know is that Marlboro is the black coffee of cigarettes. I'm actually kind of glad I picked these, they make me feel nauseous enough to stop me from smoking. So instead I'm just focused on how to make it in America. I really wish I lived here, it's just right, exactly where I wish I could be. This sounds stereotypical, trust me, I know.

I'm just about ready to vomit and go to bed so I can't continue, but I promise, there will be more to come very soon.

2010-05-11T16:40:00.003-04:00

I buy lotto tickets because they make me feel good. Before the draw there is a rush of excitement. My mind races through all the things I will say and do after I hit the jackpot.

I dream of calling in a chorus line of women to perform sexual acts for money then I secretly sit them down and offer them a chance to live out their dreams if they can tell me what it is and how they plan to get there. It would be an on the spot interview, where a desperate female succumbing to the temptation of sex for cash, is initially vulnerable, then confused, and then tormented by choice.

I can see myself speeding down the highway switching both lanes with the top down screaming out; "money aint a thang."

I imagine my new wealth would make me desire only the finest chocolate. I would fly out to each corner, or segment, of the earth and seek it out. Then I would assemble a research team consisting of a world renowned chocolatier, a professor in hydrothermal dynamics and a taste ambassador from 5 major nations. The goal would be to develop the best hot chocolate in the world, without adding milk or water.

Instead of going to the movies I would attend political galas and hold season tickets to the Noble Prize Awards. Speaking of movies, I have always wanted to make one. With my jackpot money I would make the best action movie ever. The film would be 3 hours long with explosions and kung-fu guaranteed every 5-10 minutes. There would be absolutely no Computer Generated Imagery. I plan to spend at least 5-10 million on pyrotechnics and stunt work.

I would build arcades all over the city and they would make money.

I would build a 24 hour restaurant called "4.99'rs" where every option on the menu is $4.99, cooked when ordered, with ingredients bought that day.

I might go out looking for strong hobo's. After capturing them I would put them in a training facility that teaches mixed martial arts. Within a few years I would have developed a strong core of homeless fighters and a distinguished guide for developing raw talent.

I would buy every convenience store within a 10 mile radius of my home. I would call the acquired stores Proxy Fridges. If the public wanted free access and food they would have to pass the test. Each store would have a computer game on the front, it could be chess, it could be Halo, it could be a certain top score in Raiden II. No matter what the game the difficulty will increase when someone has gained access. Also, the difficulty increases after each month. Obviously the easier games like snakes and ladders will be on stores with less than favorable stuff like large supplies of pickled onions.

If any of this stuff sounds interesting to you then buy me more tickets!!!

2010-05-08T16:17:00.001-04:00

So you know what really hip social people with blogs do right? They have segments! Well, I have a new segment featuring the double life I’m currently leading as a MLB pitching prospect. I’m not sure what to call it, so I’ll give it a working title for now – “Throwing Heat”. Wow I actually like that, if you can top that I’ll be impressed. (Note: These exploits may or may not be real. Actually that line is becoming increasingly blurry.)

Throwing Heat

My Double A Manager’s a Bitch

I’m on my road to the show. I’m one of the top young prospects in the minors and everyone knows I have Hall of Fame potential. I just wish my manager could see the same thing everyone else does. I was drafted by the Tampa Bay Rays and started my career out in Montgomery in AA. It took a while to adjust. Here I am, a 23 year old hard throwing lefty from Toronto with dreams of becoming the next great MLB closer now living Montgomery Alabama. Talk about culture shock. The Biscuits as we are known are a quality organization from top to bottom, except for my manager, more on that later. I came in not expecting to make a large contribution right away, so you can imagine my surprise when my first outing was a 7^th inning appearance in a one run ball game in our favor. I came onto the field to the song Rules by We Are Scientists – one of my absolute favorite bands and the night was all up from there. I retired the side in order, was called on to pitch the 8^th and left the game with my first hold.

After my initial outing things became a bit tamer. I worked a few five and six inning outings but quickly became the de facto set up guy. I carried a 0.00 era well into the second month of my tenure and in no time at all I was a fan favorite. I even earned the virtually non-existent three inning save. I also worked an 8 and 9 inning combination with men on to earn my second save of the season less than a month in my AA rookie campaign. And that’s when the extraordinary happened. I was sitting by my locker having a quick burn of that good ol Alabama shit, when my manager approached me and offered me the closer job.

I didn’t even expect to get it so soon. I promptly started to rack up the saves when my fortunes started to shift. A hamstring injury had me on the 60day DL. The chemistry of the team quickly turned sour. Our first place first half team was barely getting by in the second half without me. Coming back from rehab I noticed a change in my manager. “You’re going back to set up…”. My first reaction was that’s fair. More than two months without any action I understood if he wanted to work me back into the lineup. I went back out there right where I left off. Dominating, after a few series I approached my manager about getting my closing role back. And you know what he did? HE BENCHED ME! My fucking AA manager is out of his fucking mind. I don’t want to sound like a dick, but the closing role was mine before I left, and I earned it again after I came back, so I’m not sure where he gets off.

I’m seriously thinking approaching someone in order to get traded.

Identity Crisis

2010-05-03T20:05:00.004-04:00

I need some role models. What do you guys read? Blogs, books magazines.

Seriously, comment. Don't message me on facebook or tell me in person. Fucking comment.

I want to see it right here. It's an ego boost, to be completely honest.

Remember when you used to listen to way more Drum and Bass? Like playing Need for Speed and shit. The Crystal Method?

Good times.

Are you a man? Do you wear jewelry? What do you think about that? I've been really contemplating what it means to be a manly man these days. I think it falls down to these few things.

1. Being comfortable with yourself and any socially unacceptable impulses you may have.

2. Being physically fit, confident and having a commanding presence.

3. Being kind of sexist sometimes. I'm not gonna get into details but I think you can see where this one is going. Being dominant or whatever

4. Being hairy. Men aren't pretty, we're dirty animals. Get used to it.

Everything else is just humans being unique. I think oftentimes jewelry really suits some males. So all the CMoGers out there with necklaces or rings on, don't be offended. BE STRONG.

Would you ever do heroin?

Side Order of Style is the worst blog ever, by the way.

Lights...(not the artist)

2010-04-30T17:06:00.003-04:00

Didn't really have time to post anything resembling an article this week. Maybe next week. But as I was packing up at work a light turned on in my head. It shone through my eyes, intensified through my glasses and burnt a hole through my monitor. I did the research, and luckily I'm not liable for that kind of damage. After all that I had this idea, it was that people who twitter are just people who are too dumb to have a blog.

The Staff-

Find Them and Destroy Them

2010-04-24T12:58:00.006-04:00

This is what happens to innocent bloggers who get in their way.

We must stop Side Order of Style before it's too late.

Pathetic. Disgusting. Repugnant. Why would we declare a war then just stay quiet like fools. I don't know if you know, but, the ladies on Side Order of Style are spreading vicious propaganda. They claim the war is finished. They claim to be the victors, they claim our posts are a clear sign of dementia so surely our writers are infected and can not continue to battle. I don't think this is right.

I have a few claims of my own. So, shake off the quiescent mind and listen well. We are not beaten. The little girls at SoS are clearly desperate. They do not want the war to continue because they know we are too strong. Unable to beat us in battle they resort to childish trickery by fabricating false media. Well, we see too clearly the curtains and lanterns that make up their phantasmagoria. We see it, we hate it and as Nietzsche said "the truth is an army."

What Every Good CMoG'er Should Know:

1) Side order of Style uses the blood of little orphan boys for traditional rituals. When, Steph, a writer for SoS was asked about the blood and how its use is illegal under international law she replied; "Orphan blood is a tradition, as a sovereign blog we alone decide what is illegal within our internet space."

2) Side order of Style promotes music on their site. Unfortunately, the music is laced with hypnotic messages that convince young children to lash out at their families. Test were conducted at a secret CMoG lab. Scientist found most of the SoS songs were able to kill a small puppy in under 30seconds. Obviously, the cuter the puppy the faster the death.

3) Side order of Style sporadically gives out relationship advice. It claims to be a neutral voice but the bias is all too clear. The SoS girls are of Amazonian decent , Wonder Women, dreaming to be 50ft tall, stomping around Las Vegas while lashing the bare backs of men with their whips of truth and justice.

This is a small segment of the truth. The ultimate truth is the variable x, it is the unknown motives of SoS that makes them so insidious. Do they want to rule the blog-o-sphere? Are they trying to destroy one blog at a time. Who knows. What we must do now is hold strong and defy these criminals.

2010-04-22T08:25:00.002-04:00

Wow okay, I finished university this week and this post is not even about that. Because finishing school was a given, and givens should be taken for granted. So my first post in what feels like months has nothing to do with the culmination of the five years work I've done lining the pockets of people who regularly have to see their doctors regarding a nagging gout problem. (I'll just break that one down...gout is a condition members of the aristocricy used to get because it involves eating too much red meat, red meat is pretty expensive and so only the rich got gout.) This post is not even about banning the man who's name shall continue to be taboo here.

I have something way more important to share. Something I need to rage on.

Cats. Cats, and their owners. Specifically, fat cat owners who take up too much room on GO transit and force their fucking sweaty cat shit smell into my nostrils. The thing about nostrils is they work automatically, they take odours, transfer the molecules to my brain, and my brain tells me I'm smelling a fucking fat ass cat lover. And there's nothing I can do about it. I will not forgive these transgressions. If you own a cat consider yourself forwarned. Go tell it to fuck off or something, cats are like the dumbest pets I've ever seen and today a cat will be lucky...a cat should thank its lucky stars if I don't find one and stomp the shit out of its...tail. Stomp the shit out of its house or something.

I know someone who used to have a pet chicken. Now thats a dope pet, that a pet that is actually cute and little chicks naturally grow mohawks when they get a bit older.

CH-CH-BLAOW!!!

2010-04-21T14:41:00.004-04:00

And here we find ourselves at war. None of us with any clue as to what to do.

All I know is that I want to win.

None of that Tom Hanks shit where he dies in Saving Private Ryan *SPOILER ALERT*

Whoops...

I want the glory. The fame, the lulz.

Remember when it was all about the lulz? Whatever happened...? We all got so caught up with our jobs and our school work, we forgot to give the people what they want, in turn not giving ourselves what we want.

I signed up for the CMoG army so I could get attention. It's nice to know that when I post on social networking site or social networking site, saying, "OH MY FUCKING GOD! NEW POST HOLY SHIT! CMoG FUCK YEAH MOTHERFUCKER!!!" That people actually check it out for the most part.

Are you a subscriber? A follower? Do you feel good about yourself? You should be proud. We're gonna make you t-shirts. They're only $75.00 Sound good?

Do you have good posture? I could use some advice, I'm a serious sloucher and I love sitting in chairs improperly. I'm gonna be one of those old guys who are bent over at a 90 degree angle while walking around everywhere. I'll ask myself "where did I put my keys...?" Meanwhile I don't even drive because I can't sit in the driver's seat high enough.

I think I need a gimmick. Gimmicks get people's attention.

How about:

KID's daily quotes...?

Or KID's weekly pictures of cats licking the spots where their balls used to be...?

Cause and Effect

2010-04-16T13:55:00.003-04:00

On Tuesday night I studied as much as I could for my exam. Eventually I got bored and called a friend over. I wouldn't say we are good friends, but, we're working on it. Anyways, my friend came over with a few beers, because she is trying to be a good friend. She was at a regatta, or at least around some boats and was already drunk so there were some beers left.

My problem is I like this girl and she knows it. She's too nice to tell me to fuck off and too turned off to just sleep with me out of pity. So basically I am running out of ideas. I keep inviting her out and we both insist it's not a date, and it isn't. But, she knows I want it to be and I know she knows. So what the fuck is she still doing. Like do you get my dilemma it's as if she is waiting around for me to execute the perfect move that'll make her say; "I don't know why I didn't notice 'x' about you" Or maybe there is no move maybe she is just waiting for me to pounce on her and be more assertive like men who commit rape.

I dunno man... I know what the dreamwatchers think. They probably think she really wants to be friends and is waiting for me to grow up and stop chasing. But, seriously I think everyone already has enough friends. I swear to god if one more girl wants to be my friend, I'll punch her in the mouth, then I'll rape her.

But enough about me.... here are a few things you should do.

1) Learn how to make a paper crane
2) tie your shoes
3) turn down the volume on everything
4) eat more fruits

Cough, Cough

2010-04-12T23:11:00.005-04:00

I never knew Jamesforlife, but I'll miss him anyways.

We were brothers of the pen... or the keyboard... or whatever. Shut the fuck up.

I FUCKING LOVE INTERNET LEAKS.

LCD Soundsystem is out today.

Today is a good day.

Would you work for Abercrombie and Fitch? I used to have such strong feelings against them.

Now I'm so desperate for money. I have friends who work there, they all like it. If you work in retail there really isn't much room for morality or preference in style. At the end of the day it's just a job.

Would you be a independent contractor paid on a commission salary if you knew you had the potential to walk away with $2525 in one day? Or is that just a scam? Ever heard of aeration?

Would you be a firefighter, risking your life on a daily basis? Hanging out with dudes all day and all night? Being on a calendar and getting laid by everyone, always?

If you could pick one of those jobs to do, which one would you pick? I'm leaning towards the landscaping right now but who knows.... maybe I'll just work at HMV. Good god, I would be fucking incredible at that job, I'd be so good at it. Video Game department? Done. Urban/Electronic Music? Done. Pop/Rock? Done. Jazz? Punk? Movies?

DONE DONE DONE

That's practically all I do. I should own HMV. Though if I worked there I might always be tempted to tell people not to buy movies, music or games that I know are shitty. If anything I'd suggest something else, like Nintendogs for the DS.

But Moses Turned Out Okay

2010-03-25T08:49:00.001-04:00

Sometimes you have to make tough decisions. Luckily there is a tough decision I do not have to make, because I am going to pass the buck to the readers. Jamesforlife, beloved blog writer has not actually been writing on a blog. Which brings me to the tough decision you must make. Should someone who does not actually write on a blog, have the credentials of a blog writer? Well, I don’t know….It’s tough to say, its like when you think, “No way am I listening to that fucking lo-fi indie hazz pop anymore. It’s making me too emotional.” And then Beach House puts out a new album and you spend the next month wadding through lo-fi indie hazz pop. Well it’s not quite like that at all. The fact is, if Web2.0, and by that I am referring to blogs, facebook, web forums and twitter have taught me anything in this world at all, it is, one: If you can convince teenagers it’s cool, they will convince the rest of the world for you. And two, you can outsource the content of your site to your actual users and not worry much about anything else at all. So, readers of Contemporary Mix of Genius, and those that refresh nine times in three seconds hoping to find the porn banner and leave two minutes later. I entrust the task to you, should jamesforlife be cast away from family and friends, his name never to be mentioned again? Kind of like Moses.

2010-03-17T15:33:00.003-04:00

I spend my free time creeping your social networking pages. Sometimes I skimp over them with no real level of insight, waiting for something to catch my eye like sexy pics, or secret poetry. Other times I pick a random person and build a full profile branching from simple ideas like what types of electronics this person will buy to deep ideas on their philosphy in life. I am a creep, a fifth business in the play of your life, an errant reverberation of your soul. No one can hear what I have to say about you and you don't know who I am.

I found this on one of my creeping missions

Post your pictures on the internet at your own risk!!!

2010-03-16T22:49:00.005-04:00

I want to make music purely out of sounds with spaghetti. Maybe spaghettini. Who comes up with these names? The Turkish?

I bought a money tree today. But it just grew into a tree with bells, it calls the cows inside when they've been grazing. It doesn't make me any money, but it's beautiful in it's own right.

Do you think that would be enough to validate a twenty thousand dollar price tag? I'm not entirely sure.

For every goddamn day in my goddamn life, I have not had one goddamn day where I have broken a goddamn bone.

So this summer I'm ditching the milk and picking up skateboarding. I think I want a enjoi or DGK deck. This is where all the real people who skateboard say, "You would KID, you would."

I never want to stop doing stupid shit, I really want to make the most of the time that's been given to me. Today I'm sick so that's my excuse for not going whale riding right now but I know in a few days I'll probably think of something else to encourage my lack of overall carpe diem.

I used to wish there was something wrong with me, that I had some kind of condition or deficiency. One day the doctor would diagnose me and upon taking some kind of supplement I would suddenly notice I had all copious amounts of reserve energy. I would become almost super human, as if I were taking off the training weights from my wrists and ankles for the first time. As if I were on some planet with reduced gravity.

So far this is not the case. I will keep you guys posted.

P.S.

Artist: Caribou

Album: Swim

You won't be disappointed. Or maybe you will. Whatever.

It's a Working Title

2010-03-11T10:58:00.004-05:00

Pat. Pat. Pat. Pat. (empty). “What the fuck?”
Pat. Pat. Pat. Pat. Pat… Pat... Pat… Pat…(empty) “No fucking way…”
Pat… Pat... Pat… Pat… “Oh, there my phone is.”
Why do I do that. Why do I put my phone in one pocket, only to subconsciously move it to a more remote pocket I never use which will invariably cause me to have a minor panic attack when looking for it. It’s like my hands just start rearranging all of my personal items while I’m reading or listening to music, or walking to work. One day I’m going to be eating a club sandwich at my favourite jazz bar in Toronto (the Rex) and my hernia is going to explode as I reach for my double whiskey shot. I won’t be at all surprised when the diagnosis is revealed because frankly I’m mildly surprised my daily panic stricken leg, butt and chest patting hasn't resulted in a ruptured hernia yet.

A couple of weeks ago I pulled my right hamstring. The doctors said I would never play basketball again but I thought that was rather hyperbolic. In any case I proceeded to rehab the leg. My kicks weren’t as high, my dips weren’t as low, and my hamstring hurt like a mother. Fast forward two weeks and I’ve noticed a discernible difference in the size of my legs. Now, I wear big honking glasses and would never claim to have hawk vision, but my suspicions were confirmed when I bought a new pair of workpants and felt a slight tug of the fabric on my right side. The pants felt looser on the left. I really don’t know what to do. For the past two weeks I have been favouring the right side, and this has left me a deformed monster. Hopefully everything works itself out in that department of my life.

I remember when I was about seven years old (one of the best years of my life I might add) my mother took me out to buy me some shoes. I tried on a pair that must have been a 12 the way they were wobbling. I commented to the salesman that they felt snug. He looked at me with wide eyed amazement as my mother shot me a questioning glance. I had to admit I didn’t know what the word “snug” meant, I just wanted to use it.

As I signed into the blog this morning I noted that we have 13 followers and that’s pretty cool. I think maybe the number is inflated by two or three, but ten people who supposedly read this every once in awhile is, I suppose, what keeps me writing, and because I don’t want to forget how to write, it is a marketable skill.

Man Down

2010-03-07T18:01:00.004-05:00

It's a crazy world out there.

I have little to say because I'm still in shock. The other day I had a few beers at a friends house. I wasn't feeling scummy enough to drive home drunk so I walked. My house is 5 minutes away from my friends house so it wasn't too bad. I checked my phone, it was one o'clock in the morning, and I thought "man this place is dead quiet."

I looked up and saw a car coming towards me. As the car drove pass an egg was hurled out of the window striking me in the shoulder. My entire right shoulder was covered in yolk and a mixture of frustration, anger, bewilderment paralyzed my voice for a second. I eventually recovered enough to say something like "grrrea aww what the fucking awwwrrggghh"

Then I started to go crazy. I tried to find a rock just in case they came back. I went over to someones lawn and tried to pick up a small boulder from their garden, it was too big. Then I went over to someones tree and tried to dislodge one of the decorative bricks around the trunk, I couldn't move it. Finally I saw a garden with loose stones the size of my fist, they were perfect.

But what was my plan? I asked myself and couldn't find an answer so I went home. I wiped the yolk off of my jacket when I got inside. I took a look at myself in the mirror and could see the crusty mark of yolk on my shoulder, it burned. I grabbed my touque, mittens and an extra jacket, I still had the rock. I went outside and walked around my neighbourhood looking for these punks.

I figured if my plan was to throw a rock through their windshield they will probably be mad. I thought it would be a good idea to let some people know where I am just in case I get into a confrontation and lose. I texted this girl who lives close enough to find my body in case I was left crippled, she disapproved of my idea. She thought that throwing a rock through someones windshield was a bad idea and she came and picked me up.

Noticing the craziness in my eyes she told me some facts;

Fact 1) at least it wasn't a brick
Fact 2) you're not going to find them
Fact 3) now you have some eggs for an omelet.

I went crazy but I'm alright, they got me and they know I can't get them back.

P.S. Way back in my highschool days I was walking home with a couple of friends and some guys threw beer bottles at us from their truck. I guess that's why I can see the humour in getting hit by an egg.

THE SUPERVILLAIN STRIKES AGAIN

2010-03-01T23:16:00.004-05:00

DOOM

Daniel Dumile…

AKA The Supervillain

AKA Victor Vaughn

AKA King Geedorah

AKA DOUCHEY McGEE.

The dude has a concert with Mos Def and postpones it once. Eye Weekly does a story about how evil DOOM truly is and how he’s notorious for hiring impersonators to perform in his deliberate absence. He admits to doing this in the interview and justifies his actions by stating he is a true artist and he’s the “director” or “puppeteer”of his performances. He really wants to simultaneously escape and also submerge himself in his persona. Because in the end DOOM is a character and almost entirely make-believe. On a grand scale this is a cool idea, but fuck a grand scale. I bought one of those once and I couldn’t fit it in my washroom. RETURNED IT.

So our man shows up 3 hours late to perform, (after the DJ left a half plugged in iPod of Raekwon’s Only Built for Cuban Linx II consisting of eardrum-shattering screeches and gunshots) has an IMPOSTER come up on stage and do his thing. People were furious. I was standing kind of far back and happened to be pretty blem at the time so I couldn’t tell at first that he was a phony, but once the real DOOM came on stage and started killing it and there was absolutely no doubt in my mind whatsoever that it was him. If this guy was an impersonator then the real DOOM has every right to hire this guy as his stand-in.

Mask all shiny and glorious, in the end the whole hype about fake Metal Face Imposters and the faker on stage was just a hoax, possibly an attempt to weed out the semi-fans from the real ones. The crowd instantly forgave him and got crazy hype as if DOOM was really a superhero instead of a true master of evil. He was going all out. Usually rap shows seem kind of bare live, especially with 40-plus year old performers but DOOM could not be stopped.

That is until the sound cut out and the DJ disappeared from the stage. Then DOOM disappeared and things started getting weird. The hype man had to just stand around by himself until DOOM came back and they started joking around to take the edge off. The crowd was not having it, people were getting pissed and nothing could be done to cool them off. Even when the music came back on, it just didn’t feel the same, the energy was gone.

Another 20 minutes into his set and a bunch of old school tracks later, DOOM is on some coke rap flow and his hype man is not playing ball. Already he had threatened the crowd that he would make us rap the words instead of him and was discouraged by his massive hype man from messing around DOOM just replied “DON’T PUSH ME!!!” When a crazy guy is on stage rapping with a metal mask, sometimes it’s hard to tell when they’re joking and when they’re serious.

Anyways.

DOOM disappears from the stage, comes back for a one-song encore and that’s that.

The whole time there was some dude with a Jason-style hockey mask on just standing around on stage. He wasn’t performing or anything. My hunch is that the promoters hired him to make sure DOOM didn’t pull any extra evil shit or try and vanish into thin air after throwing a smoke bomb or something.

Who knows? More importantly, who cares? The dude is an artist as well as an asshole and I’ll never pay to see him live again. When the new King Geedorah album drops I’ll probably download it for free, but that’s about as far as I, or anyone from Toronto will ever go. There are plenty of other talented rappers out there who will put on a good show without fucking with their audience.

I will have sex with anyone who knows who this is a picture of

2010-02-23T02:17:00.006-05:00

Today is a first of firsts. I’m writing this as I ride the 63 Ossington bus at 1:33 in the morning. Early by my usual standards. Hopefully there will be a tasty breakfast waiting for me in the morning to dissuade me from sleeping in until 3 in the afternoon. I’m supposed to be going to the gym on a more regular basis. I’m debating switching back to the traditional, textbook boxing gym in the Hungarian cultural centre in my neighbourhood after my BJJ membership is up.

It’s just that when your first fighting style (Karate, black belt) involved kicking on a regular basis, it’s hard to cut that out of your muscle memory. I always worried that during a real amateur fight I would involuntarily throw a roundhouse kick to some guy’s head and get disqualified.

So many people ask what happened to our blog. Did we get lazy? Is school just giving us too much pressure? I’m out of school this year so I have no excuse, but it takes 3 to tango, maybe even 4 if Jamesforlife still posted. I’m not the only one to blame here. Writing is a dangerous act. I can never get too personal or risk destroying that delicate balance of humour we have established. Not to mention I personally know a big portion of our audience, and I wouldn’t dare offend them on the interwebz.

Finding topics that haven’t been discussed ad nauseam (ie. Homeless people, music, workplace boredom, memes) is becoming pretty difficult.

So now I must ask. What are the deepest, most mysterious things you ponder? Tell me please, I really need to know.

Where's the Internet My Grandfather Created?

2010-02-22T20:00:00.002-05:00

I just want you to know I teetered on naming this post, "My Grandfather would spit on this internet."

Sometimes I get questions like, “Why didn’t you come to the party last night?”

To which I invariably respond, “What party?”

Usually the host will comment that an invite was sent trough a certain social networking site.

Sometimes I get more direct questions involving the social networking giant whose name will not be mentioned here unless they pay me.

Questions like, “Why don’t you keep your (social networking site) status more current? (I don’t believe it has been updated since Halloween.)

Well I thought about it and have come to the conclusion that it’s too easy. You can pretty much get away with anything on (social networking site). Post whatever photos you want, like you are a super model. Post where you’ve been, where you’re going, even where you hope you may be going. Post anything you want at all, all day long and nobody is there to make you think twice. The new internet is a whipitty woop super fun place for EVERYONE. And that is just not the kind of internet I knew growing up. Where are the unofficial police? Where are the people holding us accountable for our actions? Where are the Trolls.

(Social networking site) Is too friendly. Too often I see people posting ridiculous photos, or song lyrics as their status. The fact of the matter is 90% of (social networking site) users have no idea what the internet is all about.

I think a brief history on the internet and its Trolls would be beneficial here.

500 years ago when my great grand-dad invented the internet in an effort to stop Mexico engaging in Mexican type activities, he allowed for a small number of people with no manners or common decency to use his invention. No one really knows why he let them in. Some say it was a programming error, but others believe he knew what he was doing all along, that he knew the crucial role they would play. They were brutes, they would contradict anything and everything said without proof, and seemingly without intent. They snarled at you just to provoke a reaction. In no time at all they earned the moniker, “Troll.” Needless to say they were loathed and feared. Expert Trolls could take almost anything posted on a message board and twist it to make you look like an absolute ass monkey. Or worse yet, they could flame you. They could summon the powers of the English language and flame the pride out of you. Some said they could flame the RAM right out of your motherboard. Being flamed could even sometimes result in, ‘The Pain’ and could keep some people from ever posting again. People banned together against the Trolls and vowed not to grant them access to favourite internet hang out spots. (which really all forums and message boards are). But it was the internet...and with the technology of the time you couldn’t really stop the Trolls except for one at a time. And so the Trolls remained, keeping everyone honest and on their best behaviour, and deep down people knew the Trolls were for the best. Now it was a well kept secret that the Trolls livelihood depended on the fear that internet citizens had of them. And as people learned to live with the Troll, their power subsided. But, ‘The Pain’ of being Trolled has been passed down throughout the generations and lives in the heart of every true citizen of the internet. Keeping the small population who can remember those times savvy internet users.

Where are the Trolls now? Rumour has it they all live together in some mystical ungodly place known as 4chan, (also said to be the nexus of the internet) waiting for the internet to be ripe for their presence again. Legend has it they have been honing their skills, Trolling each other and keeping, ‘The Pain’ and ‘The Fear’ alive. In any case, there are no true Trolls left in the modern internet, and with their extinction the modern internet has become soft and mushy and full of females. Everyone knows the Trolls were keeping females off the internet. Have you ever seen a woman being Trolled? It’s possibly the saddest and yet most heart wrenchingly hilarious thing.

With the Trolls gone the Trolled have remade the internet in their own image. Comment after comment about how cute a girl looks is fine. But where is the comment stating how fat she looks? Where is the Troll? I guarantee she will think twice about posting a photo in those jeans again. She may or may not be fat. That is really beside the point.

Which brings me back on topic. (Social networking site) has made it almost impossible to effectively Troll. I myself, after having realized the sad truth that the lack of Trolls is ruining the popular internet have tried Trolling several members of the (social networking site) with varying degrees of success. Within minutes my Troll message was erased by the Trolled, or the Trolled would erase their own message that I was Trolling. I consider the latter a small success. In the old days you may not have been able to delete an ignorant post and so everyone would be held powerless and merely watch as they were Trolled. I suppose if the Trolled deletes an ugly photo or status update, at least it isn’t there anymore. Recently I saw a comment on a status by an individual whose last name was, “Swaggerdeep.” I suppose that last name was regarded as gully, or sick by the individual. Rightly I commented that Swaggerdeep sounds like something a bar slut would do if paid handsomely. Within minutes his comment in the comment chain disappeared. You have that power. I call upon all who do not wish to see the true internet die, to Troll harder. To Troll with a vengeance, really.

Okay You Guys...

2010-02-20T05:16:00.001-05:00

I will give 100 million dollars to some one who can find anything nerdier than this.

Swear to god.

You, me and Mimi talking about Memes, Drinking coffee with sugar and creams

2010-02-19T21:50:00.006-05:00

It was a sad day when I realized I was Bachelor Frog.

But also rather liberating.

I'm sitting on the toilet as I type this.

LAWL

Memes are a weird thing. I used to think they were pronounced (mii-miis). I used to be an idiot but the doctors cured me. My girlfriend maintains that I have to much faith in the medical community.

Remember the dancing baby? The hamster dance? Do you think that one day all the things you find on the internet that you know and love will one day go the path of the dancing baby? Swallowed into the ever existing landfill of useless shit A.K.A. 99.99% of the internet besides Wikipedia, Facebook and CMoG?

And soundcloud. But we'll get to that later.

I really hope not. I would list all the things that I think are awesome that I wish could stay relevant forever, but chances are, by the time you read this, they're already irrelevant. It's gotten to the point where cultural works and ideas have such a short shelf life that I wonder if society is ready to just collapse upon itself. Remember the Renaissance? That shit lasted THREE CENTURIES!!! Now every day there's ten bazillion new inventions, ideas or books or songs or movies or youtube videos or whatthefuckever, all ready to become cultural memes that will last about a month at most.

I blame 4chan.

Then again, I still rick roll people.

Yo, so Sound Cloud. You know how myspace has music pages? Soundcloud is like the facebook of Myspace Music.

Simple layout, easily interfaced with other social networking sites, no bullshit.

Give it a try.

Maybe we'll start doing audio remixes of all our blog posts. If we do, you know the first place you're gonna find them is?

That's right, Sound Cloud dot com baby.

CSI Comic Competition Continues

2010-02-16T10:21:00.003-05:00

Howdy

2010-02-13T20:11:00.003-05:00

CSI COMIC CHALLENGE 2010!! OMG!!

2010-02-11T15:21:00.003-05:00

Challenge to the writers... Take this comic. Make it hilarious.

An Open Letter To Bent Handstyle

2010-02-03T14:50:00.002-05:00

Sir Bent Handstyle,

I am inclined to respond to your comments regarding the type of currency to which I will be paid. I will have you know that I do not respond formally to every comment that passes because I receive many. If I was to take my time, which is short, to respond to every comment I would surely get nothing done. But I will respond to your comment Bent Handstyle because I believe there is some positive interest at the core of your declaration.

When I told you that I would only accept Gil as tender for my raise you refused my demands and forced some other foreign currency you believed to be acceptable in this matter. Since you provide no evidence for the refusal of my demands I am left to make assumptions. One of my assumptions is you do not understand how important Gil is.

Bent Handstyle I feel you would have me believe the following:

1) Final Fantasy is a bad game
2) Farming Gil is too easy and less valuable than farming second life currency
3) Stealing items from battles is more effective than destroying enemies for items

These are a few points from your doctrine I feel you would have me believe. It is from this doctrine that I gather my assumption of your ignorance to the importance of Gil. Furthermore, it is from this doctrine that I take my stance; I disagree.

Earlier I said there may be some positive interest in your behaviour, I still believe this to be true in nature so I will provide the facts of life. Maybe you thought Second Life Money would help me more, it wont. Maybe you felt cake is something I want whether virtual or real, I am lactose intolerant. Finally you could have theorized a wedding is something I wish for, presently I could care less.

The situation we find ourselves in reminds me of a story;

"A dog ran around barking; it made no sense."

You are this dog Bent Handstyle. So I will repeat my command. Bent Handstyle, again, I request that my raise be paid in full through the currency of Gil.

Homeboys In Space

2010-01-27T15:49:00.004-05:00

How do Canadian strip clubs work? Do I trade my 5 dollar bills for stripper bucks? Because to me five bucks means I better be getting five shows, so that's five songs, five minutes each. If that is asking too much then we need to really think about shutting this industry down. Or at least get the government to subsidize some of the cost. Eliminating the 2 dollar bill was a ridiculous idea and is pretty much price fixing if you ask me.

But enough about my problems in the sandcastles of the north. As a CmoG member I feel the need to spread knowledge or at least what I think is ultimately important.

One day my friend lowered his head and said; "Everyone is afraid of explosions." Which is true every time you tinker with some electrical device you fear it could explode in your hands. Or when you install a new piece of free-ware you wait for the blue screen of death to confirm your stupidity. Well I have good news, you are not stupid and explosions rarely happen.

Under the latter conditions we can move to the former. Friendly Racism.

It's a problem that effects millions of friends worldwide yet till this day the symptoms go untreated. Friendly racism starts with innocent questions like; "what does bumbclat mean?" and "What is curry made of?" (<----hilarious question by the way) To more intrusive and blatantly fatuous inquires like; "So why do you like watermelon so much?" and "What is the colour of a black vagina?"

Friendly racism would be fine if it was only questions. Actually what makes friendly racism so incendiary is the assumption that being able to ask racist questions entitles the questioner to a volume of racists jokes. As if the innocence in the questioning transcends that moment and turns into a membership to all things racists. I imagine a member of this group surfs the Internet wildly, typing with no regard, words they only dreamt of saying. Looking for the most relevant racists jokes to share with their urban, Asian, and brown friends.

If you as a human being want friendly racism to stop you have to start with one friend at a time. May I suggest pulling one of the friendly racist to the side and turning on the TV. Try to watch some BET or go to the Internet and find some old UPN sitcoms. Sit down with your friendly racist and make fun of those people because they are the joke. Let your friendly racists know that its not alright to make jokes of old stereotypes unless the people you are joking about are living those stereotypes to the fullest.

Sweaty Gym Shorts

2010-01-20T14:56:00.004-05:00

I used to think I loved the idea of 3D. Then I saw Avatar. Now my eyes hurt.

I understand the appeal of going to see a movie and being able to look right into the screen to see a new and dangerously blue world but the idea is just too ambitious at this point.

First off, I still can't get over walking into a movie theatre and seeing hundreds of doofuses clad in ray-banesque 3D shades, the same shades that, while providing a somewhat more detailed and depthy (yes I know I'm making up a lot of words here) image, also dim the brightness of the picture, thus significantly reducing overall viewing quality.

Long story short, THAT SUCKS BALLS.

Avatar is a pretty cool movie, I've seen it twice but honestly, 2D was better.

Every played Castlevania for PS1? Fuck that's a good game.

What is happening to the world. How can I have an opinion about anything these days? The Grammys? The movie adaptation of The Lovely Bones? The weather?

SHIT, SHIT, SHIT, SHITTY!!! ALL SHITTY!!! But everyone already knows that. I'm trying to be a trailblazer here, a visionary. What can I say that hasn't already been said? What can I say differently that already has been said? Should I just plagiarize everything from now on? Seeing as I'm not in school I can't get penalized anymore. Maybe all my posts should just be song lyrics from here on out. Sometimes I even forget things that I've already said!

Have I ever asked you what your favourite song is? Or what you want to be when you grow up?

I want to be dead, that's my goal. Dead and famous.

Like: YAY KID!!! HAPPY 33rd BIRTHDAY!!!

*BANG*

There will be some guy named Desmond or Ezio or Altair or something ludicrous like that who will pop out of the cake and shoot me right in the heart.

Assassinated.

Only really special people get assassinated. Most people just get murdered. If you're a Telemarketer and you get shot with a sniper rifle without you knowing, are you assassinated?

I think it also changes depending on what kills you.

Can you be assassinated with a grenade? What about throwing knives or a Javelin?

Real confusing stuff...

Blunt Notes For Hire

2010-01-18T14:03:00.007-05:00

The other day I was doing some free form modern dance. Pretty much rocked the house. Then I started thinking about style. I was all like what is style you know getting real deep and shit. The cynical side of me wanted to say style is a word people use to wear torn jeans. Staying with that warm fuzzy feeling I thought I should add expensive jeans in there too. I wanted to add pencil jeans in as another example of style as an excuse, but before I could, I laughed myself into a nap.

Jesus wore a robe, that shit was dope. You know what else was dope back then, hating gentiles. So the robe is out and the gentiles are free, and the question remains. What is style?

If I had to take my finger and shove it in style's face and be like "you fucking guy." I would say style is a translucent puzzle. Each piece is a tiny piece but there are so many pieces you can make a new bigger piece and a medium piece and subset pieces congruent to the original piece without losing any pieces. Am I saying there are no new ideas, yes, yes I am. If you look at jeans in general there still isn't an adequate way to store things in them and not ruin them. Therefore there are no new ideas. However, if there are all these little pieces that make up a style then technically everyone has there own style. I know there is a cult claiming that we all dress the same, making it sound like the stylish are unstylie. This cult will have you believe your shoes are unstylie because people want them. If you let them, this cult, will severe your connection with reality forcing you to see a uniform that isn't there. This cult is wrong and secretly they want your pieces.

Style is translucent because style is about the subject underneath the costume, design, sound, taste. It is hard to see past the style but you can if you take a good look.

I am not saying everything is a style but most things are. You know what I mean? Or should I explain that some more?

You can't like the style of anything because style isn't any one thing. A lot of times people say they like the style of a movie or book or something. They are basically saying they liked the devices the creator used. I think liking someones style is as pretentious as liking someones life. Just finish the sentence tell someone you like their torn jeans, or their postmodern neo beatbox, or their roman impressionist architecture, or their rustic bourgeoisie French menu. That sounds so much nicer and less pretentious than "I like your style."

If I had to define my style it would be 3rd generation superfreak sans 80's contemporary flare with a smooth finish and rose wood undertones.

Say it Like You Mean it

2010-01-14T10:29:00.002-05:00

Alexander Graham Bell invented the phone sometime before I was born, and the world hasn’t been the same ever since. Someone invented the current rendition of the cellular phone after I was born and I like that invention better because it let’s me talk wherever I want.

However, the corded phone while many speculate is on it’s last legs, still has a strong base in family homes and in offices. And it is the latter I would like to discuss with you now.

After graduating or being exonerated for a felony and being hired by a reputable company there are many things one must learn to be successful in corporate Canada. Which is like corporate America’s little sister: Cute, and you might flirt with it, but really that’s as far as you’re willing to take the relationship, I mean, c’mon you don’t flex up your buddy’s little sister. Anyway, to survive in an office scenario there are certain etiquettes that must be learned. E-mail etiquette, water cooler etiquette, walking by hello’s, stop and talks, polite jokes, etc. Among these are telephone etiquette and it’s just as important as anything else.

Because everyone in the office has a phone you must learn to use this tool better than your peers to increase your trade value among the league, I mean increase your worth in the company. Don’t even worry, I’ll clue you in on some of these. For arguments sake, I’m going to assume you need to close a deal, because what I’ve learned in obtaining my BCOMM, closing deals is what keeps rich people rich.

Don’t be afraid to yell on the phone. Nicholas Cage made an acting career of yelling on the phone and I see no reason why you shouldn’t be entitled to try your hand at is as well. Yell things like, “Do you know who I am?” Or, “Do you know who I represent!?” Or, “Do you not want to close this deal!?” This shows your GM, I mean boss, you’re in control of the conversation, and that you value the company you work for, and are unwilling to accept just any piss poor deal. Always remember you need to get value for your players.

Standing up while on the phone is a great way to increase your street cred. For very simple reasons. Standing up lets people see that you are closing deals. Most people are visual and if your boss sees you closing a deal, you will more likely get a contract extension than if he only heard you yelling. Now, there is a right and wrong way to do this. While standing up, keep one hand on your desk, this shows people you are anchored and haven’t forgotten why you’re on the phone. You do not want to give the image of just floating around on the phone. Standing up also gets other people around you excited. “Why is he standing up?” They’ll wonder. “He must be doing something right.” Some people will encourage you to stand up and yell while on the phone. I am firmly against this tactic. Yelling on the phone while standing up will grab all the attention in the room and let people know you’re an Alpha Male who won’t stoop below punching children to close a deal. Find these people at Jack Astor’s wearing power suits. You see it’s just the wrong image that’s being portrayed. It is simply too much, yelling while standing up is like watching too aggressive tasteless porn. You can’t help but wonder if all this is necessary.

Some things just make you feel dirty. Like farting while walking, and then smelling it, and then speeding up your walk to get away from it. Nobody needs to notice what you did for you to silently curse yourself under your breath, vowing never to do it again.

Stay alive, stay under the covers!

2010-01-11T01:00:00.006-05:00

It's the cold.

You walk out of your house with a certain confidence, an optimism that says, "Hey, it's not that cold outside. Perhaps if I'm lucky I won't hate myself for living in Canada today." You trek onwards with warm hands, ears and nose. And as you walk, something makes itself present. It's a feeling that cannot be truly explained. It's essence remains a mystery to humanity even to this day. The cold.

This presence knows you, and you are also familiar with it. At first you might even welcome it in defiance, "Pffft, as if I would get cold on a day like today!" And the cold simply laughs back at you. It creeps up behind you, gliding easily under your feet. It explores your entire body, hoping, knowing that there will be a place where it can make itself known; an exposed neck, uncovered ears, the little gap between your sleeve and your jacket pocket.

And still you are in good spirits.

"I suppose it is a little chilly out here huh?"

Until any chance at relief is effectively eliminated. You know you will be cold and there is no way to avoid it. You give in. Your body becomes numb from the cold, unable to face the truth:

the cold will find you, the cold will inhabit your very being. Eventually, if you let it, the cold will fill every fibre of your being and you'll find yourself the spitting image of a delicious frozen treat, with little snot icicles dangling from your nose.

The cold needs you.

It lusts for every inch of your exposed skin. Jackets and things made of wool are its sworn enemy. The cold longs for you you so badly that when it finally makes its way through an open doorway or window, hot air leaves the room to make it less awkward for the two of you. And while the heat is still something that you can get too much of, we can complain about that when the summer comes around again.

Cold is that person that you can take in small doses, but when you are forced to spend time together, there is nothing you would rather do but run away. It can take several minutes for the tenacious grip of the cold to leave your body. Even in the careless company of a heated place, your fingers and toes still are the calculated minions of the cold, bringing shivers to anything you should touch.

We were never meant to be here. Human beings were not meant to live in these unbearable conditions. We don't have fur, or blubber. Or at least most of us don't, I'm sure there's a few of you out there.

Put a naked human being out in the ice and snow and certainly they will die. Fast.

The cold is starting to get to me.

This Aint Reality TV

2010-01-04T09:15:00.009-05:00

We don't need to sit around and argue over who sucks. We all know the suckiest sucks that ever sucked aren't important. With that out of the way it's time to fly off. That's right suckas we can fly.

Here are a couple of awesome movies to remember

(Action)
Underworld 1 and 2
Terminator 2
Police Story
Hard Boiled

(Drama + Action)
Clockers
The Prestige
The Host
Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance
Sympathy for Lady Vengeance
Old Boy
Ronin

(Drama)
Basketball Diaries
Good Will Hunting
Boogie Nights
The Reader

(Horror)
Blair Witch Project
Saw series
Texas Chainsaw Massacre
30 Days of Night

There is no Comedy section because right now comedy is overrated. You don't believe me? really? Well then what happened to Jim Carey? Why did Eddie Murphy give a transexual prostitute a ride home? And what of Comedy's latest causality Will Farrel. I only hope you realize that comedy is a killer and not a saint. Poor Seth Rogan is only seconds away from death.

The rock I tried to break with my mind was strong. So I took my foot and stomped all over it. My shoe flew off, but it had done its job, under my white sock was a small pile of rubble. I sifted through the shards of rock looking for a piece that was the right size.

There was one piece with a rounded end and it looked small enough to fit my plans. Satisfied with my examination I hurried into phase one of my plan. I placed the smooth rounded part of the fragment into my nose where it fit snug into my nasal. I arched my neck back and sucked in some air with my mouth.

The second phase of my plan was the most important. I took aim and without provocation snorted out the pebble into a strangers face.

The stranger looked me over, possibly for a reason, I looked the stranger right back. He hesitated to say something and continued walking pass me. He accepted his defeat.

The fool! A younger person would either challenge me in kind or threaten physical harm. I was only a child and with the right tools I destroyed a man.

So I gathered more rocks and I cleaned my nose religiously.

Not Your Typical New Year's Post?

2010-01-03T14:07:00.001-05:00

2009 was a bad year. And I’m not surprised, 2008 had a theme, it was two thousand hate and I toast myself for getting through it. I didn’t think I would make it. 2009 had no such theme, no plan, no punch, 2009 was simply a bridge year to 2010 and I am happy it is finally over, to be honest I wasn’t sure if I’d make it. 2010. I like it. It’s an aesthetically pleasing number. It’s concise and bold, futuristic yet simple, there’s a bit of intrigue in this number, it says, “The future has arrived.” And hasn’t it? Right now I can surf the web on my phone for an affordable price. Jump in my car and have it tell me how to get someplace I have never been. Publish video content on the world wide web for free and have millions of people access it from their phones. Okay so not all of this is new to 2010, but it’s the relative ease we accomplish them now. The sense of novelty is gone, and the sense of entitlement has arrived.

This world operates in cycles and in 2010 I think I’ve finally seen an entire one through. From being an advocate of the main culture in the late 90s, to finding a form of music that was routinely described as a type of subculture. To that subculture becoming main culture and then reverting back to subculture and main culture becoming this beast that I no longer fully understand. I suppose I would be fine for this and other like trends to continue for the remainder of my life, I find them slightly entertaining.

However our lives do not operate on the same seemingly infinite cycles of this world. Human lives can be easily measured linearly and 2010 marks a real end point in my linear life. Since I can remember I’ve been going to school. For as long as my memory serves I have transferred from one establishment to another all hell bent on making me learn things. Well that ends in 2010, now anything I want to learn will be how it should have been a long time ago: For free.

Yes, my esteemed compatriots some people like to end these New Year type articles saying they do not know what is in store for them over the next year. Label me omnipotent because I have a very concise view of what I expect out of this year. Money. That sounds strange coming from me, I think the greenback is more of a necessary evil than a thing that should be the goal of one’s life. But seriously, it’s time to get paid. Because when that’s out of the way I can focus my attentions of curing the sick, righting the wrongs, helping the needy, you know the jazz.

I have a confession to make. I missed New Years, and I don’t mean I missed it while dancing, watching a movie, talking with friends, or any of the other slightly acceptable, “I missed New Years!” horror stories. I suspect as the clock turned over and most people in the Eastern Standard Time Zone cheered, hooplahed, whopped, and screamed, I was in the bathroom washing my hands after a particularly good drunken pee. Perhaps this is foreshadowing, this year I plan on doing what a got to do, (after you take a pee you gotta wash your hands mang) and I don’t necessarily want or expect much fanfare for it. I’ll get all the fanfare I need 2012 when I save the world from the Mayan invasion.

I missed you

2009-12-27T16:32:00.004-05:00

Writers block is the kind of thing that can ruin your life.

I'm forced to resort to just writing complete and utter gibberish to compensate for the lack of decent content in my brain. Perhaps it's distraction. Maybe you guys have just taken me to the point where the expectations for excellence are so high I'm afraid to even bother to post for fear of waking up at 3:21AM to find an angry mob with pitchforks outside my bedroom.

There are a lot of dirty dishes in my bedroom.

Ever solved a rubik's cube? Got one for christmas. Do you celebrate Christmas?

Of course you do. Prick.

Anyways, it takes an incredible amount of memorization more than anything. So far the easiest way to solve this 3 decade old puzzle is just dedicating the patterns of motion to memory. Yes 1980 was THREE decades ago.

So what's the new style? Is neon done? How bout zebra print tights?

I swear to god if I hear another line in a song from from some black dudes out of the Bay Area about how they wear skinny jeans I will retire to sweatpants and corduroy slacks till the day I die, which incidentally is in only 2 years, you gonna be ready for 2012?

Wish you lived in Baltimore? LA? Sydney? That feeling that you're part of something big.

How will we define our generation? Keffiyehs? Red Bull? Flunking out of College? Blu-Ray? Seriously?

2009-12-22T03:01:00.001-05:00

On behalf of the CMO staff....

YUP!

2009-12-04T10:42:00.002-05:00

Okay I'm sorry for posting so many videos, and I know for some people on dinky computers this site probably comes up made slow. But look just look at this and tell me it didn't need to be posted.

Teach Yourself: An Iller Vocab

2009-11-21T23:19:00.003-05:00

I originally wrote this for online magazine Elliotmag.net. They've had one issue and it's alright. Check it out, but read this first. Been thinking about making a podcast, but the main resource (time) is scarce.

People trust me, and they have good reason. I’ve worked hard to develop a persona well worthy of individual praise and acceptable self righteousness. People trust me because I’m likeable and charismatic, I give a firm handshake to men. A small and polite hug to women, and give kisses on both cheeks to Europeans. I once stumped Alex Trebek (much to his chagrin) and guessed the million dollar briefcase on ‘Deal or no Deal’. After that I never watched the show again, I figured what’s the point, you know? The fact that I am so upfront and transparent about how upfront and transparent I am only increases the already otherworldly amounts of trust that has been placed in my hands. This is why I have been entrusted (there’s that trust word again) to tell you how to live your life, and it is actually very humbling to me. So sit back, relax and get ready to do everything I say whether you agree with it or not. Now that introductions are out of the way let us get started.

Stop being a goddamn prick and use your big words like a big boy every once in a while. I’m not sure if it is the parties or drinking, the drug abuse or video games, the social networking or the TV, but I seem to meet people who talk like they have just graduated from kindergarten with alarming regularity.

Before you wonder if I’m being serious, first ask yourself how serious you are being. Because I am definitely not taking you seriously when you use the word ‘fuck’ as some sort of universal adjective bestowed upon us from the gods. In fact most four letter words are probably not the best way to describe things. Words like, sick, nice, and good, all have a place, but there are other words that someone probably worked very hard in creating and although he is not rolling around in his grave, because contrary to popular belief dead people do not actually roll around in their graves, I will say that if he were alive today he would probably feel a bit downtrodden for wasting his time thinking of some pretty interesting words, when he could have been banging hot bitches that I am sure his ill vocab helped him get.

I’ll even get the ball rolling. “How was the party Jimmy?”

“It was fucking awesome.”

“No.”

“Errr-It was fucking...good?”

“No.”

“It was really eclectic; there were a group of people who had some controversial ideas about health care. Initially I didn’t agree...” He looks at me curiously and I nod my encouragement for Jimmy to continue. “but after a light-hearted debate on the matter I found their position to be rather compelling if not at least an interesting stance on a subject that I am not entirely familiar with.”

“Yes, yes that’s a start Jimmy, that’s a start. How about you Jennifer? What are you watching tonight?”

“I’m thinking of watching Housewives of Orange County.”

“No.”

“Housewives of Atlanta.”

“Try again.”

“Housewives of-“ I give Jennifer a menacing glance. She looks fretfully at the floor and tries again.

“Big Brother?” Fuck it Jennifer you’re a lost cause.

Listen, I’ll level with you, I love to drink. A steady dose of Fresh Beverages (rum and cokes) and White Russians (vodka, milk and your choice of coffee flavoured liqueur, I prefer Kahlua) keep me sufficiently buzzed and happy. But we all know drinking kills brain cells so I’ve decided that exercising my brain to promote growth and mental stability wouldn’t be all that bad. Try reading or playing chess or talking about something other than celebrities. Although I will say J.Lo’s last album rocked....what? I do all the above, and since I have made a concerted effort to partake in activities other than drinking games and watching entertainment television I have noticed a significant increase in my vocabulary, memory, motor skills and various other cognitive abilities, namely telekinesis.

The best part is, when you stop trying to live the life of the hills, and drop the valley girl accent or super bro attitude, you will add a layer of respectability that others will recognize immediately. Conversations will flow easier and people will undoubtedly like you more, especially if you are unattractive. Chances are you will even like yourself more as a steady dose of hobbies is good for the soul, or at least the brain. Try playing Boccee.

The other day I left my glasses at home and had to squint to read a menu, that’s all it took to remind me that one day I will die. Every once in a while you will come face to face with your mortality and if you can face those situations without shutting your eyes tightly and wailing to the lost love ones in your life I commend you, but if you see yourself in that moment of utterly brutal self reflection you better have something better to say to yourself then, “That party was sick.”

MUSIC!!! OMG!

2009-11-06T12:13:00.002-05:00

If you want to impress the indie crowd use this

The Ladies love this guy so maybe he has some tips. (For those who need them).

This is old but it proves everyone should listen to DnB because it's good for you.

Divel...oooohhh I get it.

2009-11-01T18:31:00.003-05:00

Checking your watch during dinner will create suspicion. So, Euston was smart to check his watch while he had a private moment with the maitre d’. He left the conveniently located closet and caught a glimpse of himself in a mirror. The view was impeccable. He adjusted the cuffs to his three piece suit, reassembled his blonde hair and proceeded to dust some invisible particles from his shoulder. Of course he didn’t forget to give himself a furtive grin and nod before returning to the table.

“Euston, where have you been Thompson was just telling us a fascinating story about the museum.” Bellowed, a now tipsy, Divel.

“I was on my way back from the washroom when I saw the Maitre d’. She was having some trouble with a man who felt he lost his reservation for unduly reasons.”

“Well I hope you didn’t tangle yourself in her mess?”

“Divel, as a gentleman I had to make sure there wasn’t a scene. I was only involved with her for 10 minutes.”

“That was quick.”

“That’s what she said.”

Euston, of course, was lying but not entirely. For all his own purposes he was a gentleman, and sometimes a doctor, and on Wednesday a realtor of high regard. Today he was sharing dinner with two important men.

Divel was a large man and the president of a very profitable cracker company. He spent sometime in politics gaining success as a councillor for Old York. If asked about his time in politics Divel would often complain about the food. Old York was one of the older neighbourhoods in Toronto and as such parties there presented a menu of epicurean interest. Euston was surprised Divel showed up to dinner. There were murmurs in the streets that he stayed up for three days preparing a shipment of Royal Select saltines for the prince of Kiribati. Gossip suggests the prince, who was going on an expedition into the mountains of Tibet, said if they must bring rations let there at least be Royal Selects. Divel ordered another whiskey cleared his throat of phlegm and searched his pockets for his lighter. He looked tired, his eyes were baggy, and the few strands of grey hair that remained on the sides of his head were unkempt.

“Here Divel, use mine”

Thompson handed Divel a lighter out of his breast pocket. The lighter was a glimmering silver with an inscription of his family’s crest. While Euston was preoccupied Thompson had been telling Divel about the dispute he was having with the Egyptian government. It seemed Thompson’s Curators Inc. were in the middle of a custody battle for the remains of an ancient tomb.

“The museum won’t support us. Even after all the Thompson family has done for them.” Thompson said.

“Fuck the museum.” Divel barked. “Are you gonna let a couple of sandbags weigh you down?” Divel’s last comment shocked Euston it was more poetic than usual. Before building the cracker industry with his bare hands, Divel, was a veteran of the British naval brigade. There he learned a lexicon that was short and surprisingly flexible. “Fuck the museum and fuck the Egyptian government.” Divel wasn’t overly abrasive but he did not have the patience for those who became submissive while facing a clusterfuck. In the navy he was taught anything could be fixed with spit and grease and he prescribed the same solution to his problems outside the regiment.

There was a lull in the conversation as both Euston and Thompson thought of ways to trump fuck the Egyptian government.

The three men sat at the round table under the dim light of a chandelier. Divel started to slouch down in his seat so he didn’t have to support his massive stomach with his back. He looked around lazily, possibly, for a more entertaining group. Then stared out the window inquisitively. Euston and Thompson could not resist and stared with him. A person was flying horizontally towards the window. And then smashed through the glass and onto the trio’s table. The poor man had broke all of the white china and cleared off a fresh bottle of wine with the glasses. Thompson was startled and jumped out of his seat, Euston and Divel didn’t flinch, and the Maitre d came rushing out of the closet to see what happened. Rain started blowing through the hole in the window putting out Divel’s cigar. He grunted and lit up another one. Divel panned the restaurant seeing more than one shocked face, “Terrible weather these days.” He said.

Dawn of the Assholes

2009-10-28T17:30:00.002-04:00

Don’t let anyone ask you, “What’s all this Hoopla about?” If they don’t know, you sure as hell don’t have to tell them. Unless of course you have just been waiting…just been itching for some dumb scunt to be a dumb enough scunt to ask you what you’re doing so you can set them on the right track.

The world is comprised by haves and have nots, and I’m not talking about money, I’m talking about something intrinsic to the very nature of being alive. Don’t ask me how they did it, but a large portion of society has derived a way to live without a soul. These are the assholes who don’t know what’s DOWN. They might as well be flesh eating zombies, and like Roger, from Dawn of the Dead, we are going to whip them. “WHIP THEM AND TAKE IT ALLL”

But I’m getting ahead of myself…or is that just my writing style? I won’t be so presumptuous as to assume I have a “writing style.” That seems like a gimmick “writers” use to legitimatize their writing. As far as I’m concerned writing is fluid and depends largely on circumstance. Take this one for example; I’m at work, hunched over my desk so no one knows I’m not writing reports but writing posts. This circumstance has led me to think and type at an increased rate as to avoid being spotted. Hence me getting always getting ahead of myself and jumping into the details of things before letting everyone know what it is that I’m talking about.

If they want to call that a writing style I’m all for it. But I know that can’t be too accurate because half the time I read something I wrote on this site and wonder if I was on acid. But let’s try to stay focused. Striving for my BCOMM is costing me my soul, and I have already had the unique displeasure of witnessing the mass amounts of students in this higher learning educational institutions that would sell their mothers gravestone for a AMEX Black Card. Obviously the strife for and lust for financial security, (security meaning BMWs, expensive champagnes, complex and vast real estate portfolios) Listen, the scope for this topic is way larger than this post so I’ll just say you soulless demons know who you are and stay off my BLOCK.

Being a young adult these days is like trying to decide whether to be a movie star or recording artist. All the Hipsters want to be straight edge and all the straight edge kids want to be bad as fuck. Half the time it comes out looking like queer as folk, and if you don’t understand its because I’m just playing with words, there’s very little meat here to digest but I guess if there’s a theme to this it would be. Ummm…..Be Yourself. Yea I like that one. Just be yourself guys, if you don’t know what’s going on, that’s probably the way it’s meant to be, don’t ask some dude with a Sperry’s on what’s happening because that’s just not your crowd. When you know what’s going on it want feel like Hoopla anyway. It will feel like David Bowie or Stars.

Respek to Rusi, the cell phone post made me laugh in my throat a little.

Get on my music nuts

2009-10-27T23:46:00.005-04:00

So I'm usually not one to shamelessly promote musicians/DJs that I may or may not know, but this guy has been doing big things recently and deserves some recognition.

As far as DJs go, not much is really noticed by the masses in the realm of skill, especially when most of the audience is girls and guys who often times don't even really like the particular genre and just came for the cheap drinks/to look cool/to get hit on by hipsters etc.

One thing I've noticed about every one of DJ Scratchsmith's sets is that the crowd actually gets excited. Balancing a killer selection with sharp skills and an overall pleasing demeanour, DJ Scratchsmith is worth watching out for.

Check out his Facebook Page and Myspace

Seriously

There Will Be Posts!

2009-10-26T18:01:00.002-04:00

For the last month and change I've read blog posts on the blog I had the audacity to create by my darling compatriots. I couldn't help but think of the critically acclaimed movie, "There will be blood." When the main protagonist, (or is he the antagonist?) Kneels on his knees at the front of a small church and exclaims, "I'VE ABANDONED MY CHILD! I'VE ABANDONED ME CHILD!" Yes I have, and like Mr. Plainview I'm going to bring it back and nurture it with an expensive steak meal with milk and whisky.

Listen, I wouldn't say I'm proud of myself, but who is these days? I rather write but I have fucking priorities. And by fucking priorities I mean actually fucking girls. Not really, but you all expect me to be cool. Well I'm not cool, I just write as one on a blog. (I actually am DOPE though.)

This is getting out of hand, I'm getting emotional, my hand is qwaivering (obviously quivering and waivering) and I feel like I'm about to puke because I'm drunk. I'm going to put you all on a train. Picture a large freight train because that's the kind of train it is. Its kind of dark and cold inside. There may or may not be a mexican inside. That's up to you, and I won't take the paint brush out of your hand. Go ahead, create a masterpiece. This train your on? It's not stopping in L.A, or New York. It's not stopping in Toronto or B.C. It's not stopping in Tokyo, Seoul or Istanboul. That's because it's not stopping at all. Its a terrifying, exhilerating ride that you are on for the rest of your life. Partake in the festivities, or don't see if I even care.

False Prophets Inside a Giant Hot Air Ballon Face. For Real.

2009-10-21T15:30:00.005-04:00

So I'm in the library wondering why people put their phone on vibrate then leave it in front of them. I'm wondering because often my mind drifts when it faces an illogical situation. Here is what I am having trouble with...

(cell+vibration)/distance = intensity of touch stimulus; where distance must be greater than inside your body.

So as you can see the further you get from the cell vibration the less effective it is at activating your sense of touch. I guess if you are not concerned with your sense of touch and simply want to be alerted then placing the phone on a desk in front of you will work, for instance;

(cell+vibration)x(DESK) = loud fucking noise

notice the positive relationship between the desk and cell vibration. Of course we must hold the desk constant and increase the vibration to a level suitable to make loud fucking noise.

I must excuse my self for the second formula because it only works in a perfect experimental environment. For instance under normal library hours the circumstances dictate the following formula;

the sum of[(n)x(DESK)^2 - distance]; where n is the number of cellphones vibrating between the limit of 0 - infinity, and distance is constant
= (loud fucking noise + smack in da mouth)X(intensity of smack in da mouth)

distance remains constant because we are in a cramped QUIET lab. The second formula is now exponential because again we are in a cramped QUIET lab.

prescribe your own medicine and dance. Okay stop dancing and punch. Okay stop punching. What have you learnt other than these three moves. Well its a good thing I'm here to teach you. Salivate all you want vegetables are still edible, meat must be killed and stories will be told.

Garnishing the backlash of stability will never persuade the conservative mind. And who are you not to listen if I am not to tell. Of course you should be happy. Just watch for the snakes, the liars, the hilarious to others, the options, the past, the deleted, the faces. Definitely watch for the faces.

I was with a group of people who thought I couldn't hear them. I wish I couldn't. When you get older you don't care. When you don't care you don't care.

No seriously be happy, but don't care. If you care everyone will find something else to care about. **edit** Cowards (sorry forgot that part)

Low kick to hyper to hadouken to high kick to super to throw to light punch, light punch heavy punch to hyper

2009-10-19T02:58:00.009-04:00

I swear to god I would kick the ever living shit out of you.

Given the opportunity I might just lose it and beat some asshole within an inch of their life.

I would throw elbows, spinning hook kicks, plum knees, and did I mention I can shoot fireballs?

I'm getting ahead of myself.

I have a black belt in Karate. I've done kickboxing, traditional boxing, and right now I'm practising muay thai and jiu jitsu. I've been doing this stuff since I was in the eighth grade and it's really the only thing close to a sport apart from snowboarding and that I'm not completely incompetent at.

No I am not good at basketball. Get over it.

Now please understand that I don't want to come across as someone who's fronting. I am not a fronter.

For the sake of clarity:

(That's a picture of me not fronting)

I don't go around beating people up for fun, I don't even do it for practice.

In all honesty I've never been in a fight. Except for that one time I fed the monster under my bed a gourmet knuckle sandwich for touching my ankles when I woke up one morning.

Aside from that one, isolated (albeit friggin' awesome) experience, I have never had to purchase the ingredients and prepare a knuckle sandwich for anyone I've ever met.

The reason this has never happened is I don't fight people unless they hit me first. A good friend once said to me "Nobody is going to call you a bitch if you respectfully decline an invitation to engage in hand-to-hand combat, but everyone will know you as a bitch if you start a fight and get put on your ass."

Makes sense, no?

Lucky/unlucky for me, I've never met anyone brave/foolish enough to hit me.

Lucky because "violence isn't the answer" or something like that.

Unlucky because I've never had the chance to show anyone my flaming Shoryuken in person... (That's where I do an uppercut while jumping in the air, spinning 360 degrees. Did I mention my hands are on fire?) Trust me it's pretty sweet.

The worst part about all this is that not only can I not show off, but when people say "Okay Kid, if you won't fight, at least play me a round in Street Fighter/Soul Calibur/Tekken/Guilty Gear/Marvel Vs. Capcom/ Virtua Fighter/Mortal Combat/ King of Fighters/Primal Rage/Killer Instinct/Whatever bullshit fighting game I forgot to include in this list." And I have to be like:

"SORRY!!!! I SUCK AT VIDEO GAMES BASICALLY!!! THE IDEA OF PRESSING LEFT, DOWN, DIAGONAL LEFT/DOWN + PUNCH TO GIVE YOU AN IMAGINARY SHORYUKEN SEEMS HARDER TO ME THAN LIGHTING MY HANDS ON FIRE AND PUNCHING YOU IN THE FACE IN REAL LIFE!!!!"

Now the fact of the matter is, while I own approximately fifty two gazillion video games, (give or take a few) I basically suck at all of them. At least compared to all my friends, who somehow are miraculously nerdier than I am, a reality I never thought even remotely possible. Maybe I'm just hopelessly lacking hand-eye co-ordination. Regardless, name a game:

Halo? suck at it

Call of Duty? suck at it

Super Mario? suck at it

Pac Man? suck at it

But I am damn good at Wii Fit.

Apparently being a fatty with a controller glued to your hands makes you a better fighter with more bragging rights than someone who could actually kick your ass.

Guess it's time to hang up the gloves and get comfortable. At least I'll have super strong thumbs.

Mortal Kombat + Uppercut = ?

2009-10-15T15:23:00.003-04:00

Why is garlic bread so delicious? The mysteries of contemporary earth are surely plentiful, a cornucopia of gift baskets times two. And just like gift baskets there are great parts like roasted cashews and questionable additions like goat cheese.

Garlic bread is worth all of our attention and I don’t think it’s an insult to forget who created it. Modern times calls for us to accept things we don’t really understand, here are a few examples; caramel inside of Caramilk bars, medical science, love, divorce, gold prices and reality TV.

Lost my train of thought

The best way to enjoy garlic bread is to prepare it yourself. It starts with a stroll down to your local bakery, or at least it used to. There you may have a few words with the shop keep before you peruse the aisles, for the type of bread you want.

Now, a loaf of French white is never a bad choice but take a minute to expand your experience. I suggest trying the Kaiser buns with sesame seeds. The combination of light fluffy bread along with the savoury taste of roasted sesame seeds is not complex, and still provides a perfect match.

Actually the entire concept of garlic bread is pretty brief and maybe that’s why it’s so tasty. A couple of people got together and said;

“Hey lets put garlic on this bread.”

“Should we toast it?”

“Sure.”

I like garlic bread; I like sports, video games, hot girls, cool cars and good movies. There’s a lot of other stuff that might not be too important but I’m not sure yet.

The saga continues Wu-tang, Wu-tang.

2009-10-04T17:50:00.003-04:00

There are a lot of people in the world worrying about the H1N1 virus. It’s probably a good idea to at least think about it. I mean out of all the people talking about it one of them has to be right. Plus doctors are talking about the problem, and unlike doctor Ho, they go to school for a long time, that counts for some things right?

The other day I saw a few chickens huddled together at the corner of Jarvis and Dundas. It’s the same corner as Georges chicken and fries so the chickens were most likely talking about dead relatives.

If we were to juxtapose the two viruses, H1N1 and human consumption, I would say chickens have a right to be upset. It’s just not fair; the fact that there are starving humans must mean the human virus has dwindled the chicken population into a sad group of grumbling cocks on a corner. I say cocks because I assume the hens are at home where they belong. Even though humans have made strides in equal rights for the female half of the species chickens are still steadfast in their traditions. I would say the only new ideas chickens have is to fight back against the human virus with one of their own.

In order to stop the human consumption virus chickens chose a virus that first needs to be eaten by humans. Is that irony? I don’t know irony is a tricky word sometimes. Let’s just say it’s pretty funny that I can gather knowledge from around the world through a computer and still be killed by a chicken.

The Takeover

2009-09-28T14:02:00.003-04:00

Well it looks like this blog has been abandoned by it's original owner. So, I say me and Vincent are taking up squatters rights.

As new co-president my first order of business is this comic strip because things are changing around here.

Second order of business is an online form of freestyling called textstyling.

pajama grandma man handling the sandbar eating eggplant and squashing old can cars/
soft sofa sitting up loafting wid da tv tough scoping out channels to increase my meaty loft/
dont scoff hata scapegoat wid da gators get eating alive and served with tomatas/

word.

This post will get you laid. Read On.

2009-09-26T18:14:00.003-04:00

Maybe one day I'll understand why the sun wears sunglasses.

I miss being allowed to suck at drawing. Now people are incredibly blunt about it. If you aren't Monet you have to openly apologize to everyone in the room for how bad your drawings are.

There must be a way for me to legitimately justify my terrible drawings in MS paint. There has to be a way to get my work in the AGO.

Could I just be an installation piece? Could I stand there freestyling to some Bach? Classical Gas?

There has to be a way.

Do you ever see ads for Condos in construction?

"Okay... So we're trying to get people excited about living here. For today's shoot, Maria you're gonna have to wear a particularly revealing business suit and balance all sexy-like on a yoga ball, sound good?"

As a hapless witness to these kinds of posters (Women in bikini's looking out on their patio etc.) I am always bummed that I don't live in an apartment.

Is that really what it's like? Where do I sign up?

How is it that advertisers know exactly where to put something sexy to make me want to buy stuff? I feel like if it was my job, I would overdo it. I'd have Megan Fox half naked selling everything from underwear to Triple Whoppers.

Have you ever had a bad pizza? Is that possible?

OH MY GOD FUCK ME FUCK ME FUCK ME FUCK ME!!!

2009-09-23T00:27:00.003-04:00

Gran Turismo 5 at IGN.com

I actually hate these games, they're so boring.
BUT THEY LOOK SO GOOD!!! AH!!!!!!!
Not to mention this song really hits the spot for me considering I've had a serious hard-on for DnB these days.
Yeah say what you will...

In case you were wondering

2009-09-08T04:14:00.003-04:00

I have an iron deficiency.

But you probably knew that already.

40s

triple whoppers

girls naked with just socks on

really easy video games

kick drums

witnessing street fights

guitar hero/rockband with friends/would-be lovers

Kid Cudi

original yet still aesthetically pleasing sunglasses

Lion King

getting a hole in one

drunk scattegories

drunk texting

drunk sexing

being drunk in general

homemade cassette tapes

being acknowledged for being "trendy as fuck"

the allure of New York

the allure of chronic

fooling around with but never actually paying for obscure musical equipment in stores

making faces in the mirror

high fives

These are a lot of my favourite things.

Ever felt really alive?

Honestly

2009-08-27T19:24:00.003-04:00

You know, science is a lot like gravity.

You try and get away and deny the facts, but in the end and apple falls on your head or you explode in a spaceship trying to get to the moon or something dumb like that.

I feel like right now I could quit listening to every band besides Phoenix, and I might actually be totally fine. Maybe I'm just having a moment.

I have a lot of moments, I've had so many I can't even begin to tell you how many I've had.

Even if I did know exactly how many moments I've had (For example 66934234211245532352 + the one moment we're currently experiencing) I wouldn't be telling some shmuck like you. You could be a rapist or something.

If you've known somebody for like 20 years and your first impression was impeccable, and then one day you burned down the person's house and told them you did it and then ran away for another 20 years, when you finally bumped into them, would they still think you were an alright guy/gal based on your first impression?

I hope so.

Have we run out of things to discuss, you and I? Maybe there should be a response CMoG blog where all the people who have read this make their own posts about what we posted about. Can you spell post modern?

Internet 3.0?

Who's the best rapper alive? Weezy? Drizzy? Yeezy? Jay-Z?

Is it a requirement to have a Z in your name to be a megafamousultrarapperlikeparapatherapper?

You know Parapa's middle name was Zane right?

YES, THIS HAPPENED.

2009-07-26T23:15:00.001-04:00

Repping it HARD

2009-07-14T20:16:00.003-04:00

There's something not very many people know about me. I'm the biggest gangster.

THE BIGGEST.

I'm huge, you haven't heard of me?

Oh well, you're probably just a square.

I'm more popular than John Dillinger, how many times does he get laid in that movie? ONCE.

Unfortunately, one of the most complex areas of maintaining a gangster persona is your appearance. You can't be to fat or too skinny, you can't have to many tommy guns or too little. That would be a mess.

Worst of all is worrying about your clothes. See, there was once a time when I was infinitely fond of collared shirts with short sleeves. I owned practically a whole wardrobe of these shirts. That is until one day when a fellow gangster of mine made it vocally clear that in his opinion, those shirts were somewhat tasteless and unfitting of a true gangster such as myself.

Now this is where my dilemma arose, I know it is the trait of a true individual to not care what people think, but I'm a GANGSTER. GANG MEMBER. MEMBER OF A GANG OF PEOPLE. Thus I had no choice but to submit to the whims of all my unsavoury cohorts.

I haven't worn one of those shirts since my unfortunate calling out.

But it seems that my company has changed somewhat, and now that I am a gangster in control of a mob of geniuses available online, ready to mobilize at the drop of a fedora; I must bring myself to ask your opinion on the matter.

Short-sleeved collared shirts, in or out?

In other matters, have any among you managed to fall asleep while eating? A friend of mine did it the other night, I have never seen anything so fantastic in my entire life. She literally stopped mid chew with her chin in her hand, elbow resting on the table, to fall asleep for more than 10 seconds straight. Upon being confronted about it she has no recollection of it whatsoever.

Is this normal?

OMG Girls Night Two!

2009-07-11T10:37:00.002-04:00

It is inconceivable the consequences that could have befallen me yesterday night. I shudder to think about the, ‘what if’ the perennial and paradoxical statement that defines the creativity of our species. Man cannot live in the ‘what if’ alone, those who have tried are likely to become the sad, angry and desperate individuals we sometimes see during our morning commute, sleeping under bridges and living on park benches. These individuals have only the ‘what if’ left to them and I am not eager to join their ranks. Balance is the only thing we can strive for, striking equilibrium with the staunch odour of reality and the sweet fragrance of the ‘what if’. However the ‘what if’ is not all creativity and rainbows, it can contain scenarios that better left avoided. Still back at home in my plush bed, my head lying curiously cocked to one side as if someone was whispering to me and not allowing me to rejuvenate my mind in sleep, The negative side of the what if clings to life in my memories. Last night was crazy. I turn my head to sleep, “What if I lost my licence?” No. I don’t want to think about it. “What if I had lost my phone?” Bah, everything turned out okay. This is the thought that yanks me awake, pulling me out of the hide and seek game I’m playing with my memories of last night. “What if my girlfriend broke up with me?” Through it all, everything turned out just fine. And what if it hadn’t? As much as I try to shed the thoughts last night’s is a story begging to be told...

I lunge into my car feeling a bit wobbly, my buzz is gone and I am running on diminished reserves of hype, better known as adrenaline. Time is of the essence. I look at the time...1:30. I notice with dismay my fuel indicator, indicating that I should have bought gas days ago. Crooks, (my car) running on faith alone makes it to the gas station. Jumping out I realize my gas tank is on the other side of the car...I have had this car for three years now. I look around to see if anyone has noticed, a few bros are having a laugh at my expense, I take the reprieve silently and right my ship. Filling up I can’t help but wonder, “Am I okay to drive?” My hype doesn’t want to hear any of that noise, and the obvious answer floats to the front my cerebral cortex. You haven’t had anything to drink for hours, hurry the fuck up and chase the go train down! Of course I agree, I always agree with my hype. Still, filling up takes a few minutes and I allow myself to think about how I entered this situation.

You were drinking shots of whisky and polar ice vodka at the harbour front on an empty stomach with three girls, you had way too much to drink. My hype remembers everything, even when I cannot. Why am I so tired? You literally ran around Toronto for about an hour looking for your girlfriend. I am alarmed at this news. She’s lost? She’s not lost, she’s home, but she might not be your girlfriend anymore...dude you ran the Harbour to Queen and then back to Union when you realized you ran too far...are you okay to drive. Yes.

My car is full, I squeeze the trigger again to make sure, some oil spills out of my tank and onto the floor. Idiot, this is not the kind of thing you need to make sure about. I drive out to the highway going outrageous speeds. 160 km/h on the DVP the speed is comforting in a way. I think back to earlier in the day.

Why was I looking for her. You fucked everything up fool. We were all having a fine time until you tried to kiss one of them. Your girlfriend in a fit of anger ran off. Then you, in your extremely intoxicated state tried to find her, I guess you took a wrong turn somewhere because you ran...nevermind. I should have been worrying more about myself; my girlfriend hadn’t had a shot of hard alcohol all night. Don’t beat yourself up too much, you only tried to kiss her on the cheek because she told you about some guy she loved that she was too scared to get, you got all father figure and tried to comfort her cheek with your lips, your girlfriend didn’t care much about the excuses and stalked off...anyway you have other things to worry about there’s some shit popping behind you.

FUCK. The flashing lights behind me are searing my vision. At first I think it’s an ambulance. I pull over into the next lane and the ambulance follows. What the fuck does the ambulance want with me. I was going crazy fast but still ambulances don’t have the authority to pull people over right? It’s not an ambulance. Suddenly the ambulance shoots beside me and a fairly attractive female officer of the law motion me to pull over. FUCK.

Do you know how long we’ve been trying to pull you over?
Sorry officer I just didn’t want to pull over on the highway.
Do you know it’s a 400 dollar fine if you don’t pull over when motioned to?
No officer, I’m sorry I just thought it would be safer to pull over on a side road.
Let me see your driver’s licence and registration.

At this point the female officer is going through my car

Do you always keep a Mickey and shot glace in the front seat of your car?
Umm, no officer, I haven’t been drinking...
Do you have any other alcohol in the car?
No officer.
What about this other Mickey?
Just the two officer.
(my face is a twisted mask of agony)
Have you had anything to drink tonight?
No officer, well yes, but early, I tried to, I mean- Compose yourself!...(sigh) You see I was on the Go bus going home, I fell asleep and the bus driver woke me up, I was a bit embarrassed so I jumped out of the bus, forgetting my phone. I really wanted my phone back so that why I’m driving so fast back to union. I’m hoping to get there before the bus does.

The female officer looks around my car some more, is that your phone there? She points at my iPod. I shoot her a devilish grin, and I realize it’s my one shot out of this mess. I give her one look, it embodies my whole night. It’s a sheepish grin with raised eyebrows and tired looking eyes. It says, I don’t usually do this, I’m a bit young and rash and I realize the errors of my ways, by the way do you find me a bit cute?
She smiles back.
After a long pause the male officer comes back to my car, it looked like him and the female officer were arguing about something.

(this part is verbatim)
We pulled you over because you were driving exceptionally fast on the DVP. The half drunk Mickeys and the shot glace in the front seat aren’t helping your case.
Drive safe tonight.
Thank you officer.

That’s it...no ticket, not even a formal warning. What do you think about that!? WOW.

I get to Union about 2:30. The place is barricaded shut. A meek looking Latina is inside cleaning. I rap the door once to get her attention and raise my index finger indicating I only have one question to ask her. She looks at me and goes back to her work. I rap again and try to seduce her through the door. She’s not having any of it, and I solemnly realize I’m not getting my phone back, this was a fool’s errand from the start. I could have told you that.

Dejected I return home. I pick up my house phone. It feels cold and alien in my hands, it’s a piece of technology I am not familiar with using anymore. I call my cell phone and it rings. That’s good, that means it’s not stolen yet.

Hello? I didn’t expect anyone to answer, and I wonder if I dialled the correct number.
Umm, yes, hi...err, I am the...owner of this phone.
(laughter) Ha, aii yes. This is the bus driver, I have your phone.
Umm, can I get it back?
Haha, yesss, come back to union on Monday, I emailed you my number, I sent it to your Ryerson account I found on your phone.
Fucking A.

I call my girlfriend. No answer. It’s past 3:30 now and emotions are just spilling out of my mouth, I leave a convoluted voicemail about my ridiculous night. As I am about to sleep my house phone rings, I pick up the bulky hardware and venture a hello.
I got your voicemail, I had to call you after.
It’s my girlfriend, we talk for nearly an hour and at the end of the conversation she tells me she loves me.
I love you too.

OMG! Girls Night!~

2009-07-05T13:08:00.005-04:00

The names in this story have been changed to protect the innocent.

After a magical day of Science at the Ontario Science Centre (sidebar: The spy exhibit was so LAME.. I was pretty pumped to see it but it paled in comparison to the “Lizards and Snakes: ALIVE” exhibit) I found myself invited to a small gathering of sorts at a friend’s place. I knew I was going to have to drive that night so I wouldn’t be getting too crazy, I thought I’ll get a bit zooted chill and just hang out. When I arrived at my friend Michelle’s house I found myself trapped in a “Girls Night”.

Aside

I was once told that if there is only one male and multiple females in a group that the male gets cancelled out and the conversation will be turned to more feminine subjects (let me give you a run down of some of the topics that may be covered, no particular order: 1) Boys are...[hot, dumb, jerks, dicks, etc] 2) High school drama caused by boys 3) High school drama caused by other girls 3) High school (in general) 4) Female masturbation (personal favourite) 5) Careers and life goals 6) Bitching about other girls 7) Boobs and vaginas (second favourite) 8) Various stereotypical girl-talk subjects (clothes, make up, celebrity stuff, etc)

Ok back to my night.. I arrived at the establishment with another female friend of mine, Jessica, and we go to the backyard to discover that waiting back there is yet another female friend, Ashley. At this point I knew something was up and that I was in for an adventure of the mind. I’ve always wondered what females do when they get together and how they hang out in comparison to how us males hang (spoiler alert: girls are Lamesville). Anyways, I’m now sitting there with these three females as they drink and talk, nothing major yet just general chit chat. So I’m thinking “Cool, I can deal with this just hanging out here dicing it up with some ladies. Maybe I’ll gain some valuable information that I can use during the courting process”. After about an hour or so I decide to indulge in some fine smokables and relax myself. Now I’m not sure if it was the greenery or what, but after this the conversation got DEEP, and I don’t know about you guys but summer time is NOT the time for deep conversations; it’s too hot. All kinds of emotional high school experiences and rumours were being brought up. Ranging from confronting a girl and telling her you want to ‘double click her mouse’ (which is a term I’ve only heard once and it was in American Pie) to emotional scars left by former friends and boyfriends. As this was transpiring I was trying to practice the ancient Chinese art of invisibility of the third eye. The basic principle behind this is if you do not engage the recipient’s third eye, which is the eye into the soul, they will not be able to see you with their eyes of the mind. I am going to skip all the details of the conversation because frankly my mind doesn’t have the capacity to carry around reams and reams of irrelevant information. I was actually in awe that they could recall all of these events and even hear say so vividly like it didn’t happen 4-8 years ago. It is leading me to believe that females have a separate brain for storing all this information.

Let me say right now that I just cruised through high school and never looked back. When I was there I just had my metaphorical blinders on, went to and from school did my homework, played some vball and that was that. After I left I forgot ALL about it, I might have 1-3 memories from each grade, which is fine with me because I enjoy life as it’s happening. At one point during the night, in reference to the high school drama conversation, Ashley turned to me and said “You didn’t know about any of these things? I thought it was blatantly obvious in the hall ways”. Which got me thinking, although we were in the same building we were galaxies apart in high school. It’s not that you don’t care what the other people are doing, these are the kids you used to play with in elementary school. It’s beyond that, once you get to high school they are so far away from you now you barely know they exist.

Don’t get me wrong, I thoroughly enjoyed my night, but it was more from a researcher’s perspective than anything else, like observing single cell organisms multiplying through a microscope. Which was quite fitting considering I was at the Science Centre earlier on in the day.

What should you take away from my experience? Girl teenagers are even dumber than boy teenagers. And contrary to popular belief girls do not just want to have fun, they just want to talk.

For our female readers, I suggest you take notes, a "Guys Night" consists of: 1) Beer 2) Video Games 3) Food 4) A Movie (optional)

Booty Juice

2009-07-02T17:16:00.004-04:00

You guys are incredibly indecisive. I think the poll was rigged, just like how Ahmadinejad did it a few weeks ago.

It has dawned on me recently that I'm really fucking good at flipping burgers. My how they sizzle, my how we have not aged gracefully, my how nothing really gets me going the same way finding things I'm never going to buy on craigslist does...

What do you guys do to stave off boredom?

Do you dance, listen to music, read, fuck, burp the gecko?

We're going to be really famous one day. And you'll have tributes for us at Yonge-Dundas square when we die collectively in a ball of flaming jet fuel on our world famous blog signing tour.

What did you dream about last night? Did you fly? Did you run away from your fears? Did you make new friends? Did you kiss her?

I hope you're outside playing hopscotch and not reading this blog it's summer outside, go have fun. Go slay dragons and win some Grand Prix . Unless you live in Greenland or Antarctica, then you're allowed to do whatever you want. Not like the polar police are gonna come and stop you.

2009-06-30T13:42:00.002-04:00

May 14th 2009. I lost my staple remover at work. I didn’t go to the supply lady and request a new one. I didn’t even steal one, although I have in the past. I sat at my desk and started removing staples with my bare hands, because sometimes life gets real like that. So if you don’t want life getting too real on you right now close the webpage and read yourself a bedtime story with a side order of nightquil.

How much money does one person need? It’s an honest question I know the answer varies per person, but lets be arrogant and pompous and try to group all of humanity together, and lets be even more arrogant and pompous and probably a bit phesicious and determine where the line for necessity and greed is drawn. Let’s decide an amount that should make people comfortable and happy. I don’t think you have to be rich. Millions of dollars a year is clearly too much. But I think 35 000 a year is too low, you can live off it sure, but that’s not the goal of this, we want an amount that will make you comfortable enough so that you can splurge a bit.

I haven’t been able to have a nice wake up in what feels like weeks. Waking up might very well be the most important part of the day, it sets the tone for everything. And for the last little while I’ve had this old woman who has the audacity to refer to herself as my mother barge into my connected yet independent living quarters to squack me awake. I say squack because when someone is rudely awakening you squacking if all that is heard. Although I do recall some English words being spoken…something to the tune of “When are you going to work?” “How long are you going to sleep?” “What’s 192 multiplied by 3 divided by 2.” I’m like for fack sakes damnit, why are you asking me skill testing questions at 9:00am. I don’t remember entering any sweepstakes. So after this type of treatment I have grown hard and cold to the ways of humanity. The old Handstyle is gone, and in his loving dancing and devilishly handsome place remains a devilish handsome cynical brute who hates teenagers and greasy food. Who will save my soul? I feel like that has rotten away long ago, or hiding in a deep cave the kind that you need to go underwater to get too. That’s right, the coolest kind. But a part of me knows I just need two days of waking up on my own time.

Back in present time I can say I feel much more welcoming now. I did receive those two days of recuperation and am much better for it.

Now lets talk about the poll results. Fuddled at best it what I would use to describe them. But I guess that means we should just continue talking about everything, except I don’t think anyone here has written much about the economy and if we I would think you a fool should you read it. Although I did get an A in both micro and macro introductory economics, so I guess that makes me the resident expert here.

Check back often for news, adventure and puppy dragons, once you eat one you’ll never go back to Chinese food again!

The Rider: Prologue

2009-06-20T12:52:00.010-04:00

No one ever makes it out of Tent City. The rich and the poor stay there forever like a deep scar and the unpleasant sight of the wound is hidden away by the harbour. It's surrounded by an infection of prostitutes and store fronts that, apart from the liquor, gun stores and strippers, rarely sell what they advertise. The sidewalks are cracked and filled in with the runoff from day to day life downtown and after changing seasons the grime cakes into a dingy green hue. Tent City is carved out deep enough that it forms a valley between two large overpasses making a suitable habitat for an entire community of shabby tents and useless trash. While the verdant views of the lake are above the cliffs of highway and available only to those living in the towering condominiums. Anyone around Tent city would seem bemused to find a reason or way out. As I said before the rich and the poor alike stay there forever. They all stay, even the rider, with all he can accomplish, stays.

One day Ram and Padden thought it would be funny if they pissed on Pamp's bed. Pamps was an average looking guy. The kind of guy you wouldn't assume was homeless but could definitely notice he had little to offer. Ram and Padden were a couple of scumbags even for the standards of Tent City those two losers embodied the nature of everything moldy and pathetic. They thought by the time Pamps got back from riding, his bed, which was made out of diapers, would swell to twice the size. Till this day that prank sounded fucking hilarious to those two clowns but Pamps didn't find it funny. Actually no one knows how he took it. When those two scampered out of their holes to laugh at him he just said "clean it up" with no expression on his face. Of course they got right to it, partly because they were cowards, and there was something deep in pamp's eyes that demanded respect like when your principal calls you into the office or your mom ask you where her change went. They started tearing up a double sized bed of Pamper brand diapers that had been duct tape together into equally sized rectangles. The two scientist of this experiment proved their initial hypothesis by doubling the size of the bed but like the young researcher looking for the key ingredient in a mud pie I'm sure they didn't anticipate having to clean up their own mess. There was no new set of rules in Tent City the mores that defined an idiot held true in the underworld, Ram and Padden were certainly idiots.

Growing up you thought everyone was outstanding at there job. You thought the bus driver, and the teachers, and the the entertainers were all perfect for their positions. It takes a long time to understand people are just people and if it wasn't Pamps anyone could be the rider.

We're Assholes And You Love It

2009-06-09T17:30:00.002-04:00

What is it about bloggers that makes us so pretentious? Seriously, who do we think we are? Why do we write with this air of cynicism wrapped in a wispy layer of self entitlement? There are only two kind of bloggers. Arrogant assholes who really believe their words are of a divine nature, and the dude next door type blogger, every bodies best friend look what I did yesterday, I am so cool sometimes. They say sometimes so they don’t seem pretentious. How pretentious of them. I openly admit I am of the first kind. Which is fine by me, because at least I’m not underground pretentious, and I’m happy to say I don’t think anyone who writes for this underground GEM of a blog does either. Let’s look at the list.

We have Kid Vincent – his posts ooze with the confidence of a male Grizzley Bear in it’s natural habitat. Ranging from music to crazy stories, so trendy it hurts the Kid knows what he’s doing. He even throws out some emo poetry every once in a while, it’s no wonder the girls swoon for him. The only thing really going against him is his teenage age. Yes, it's something he can't help, but it's a shame he must carry around with him until the fateful day he turns 20.

Jamesforlife may be the most pretentious of us all. If you remember the early days of his iPhone video link, what would make him think people want to watch him walking home from school. But they did.

You see that’s the thing, the bloggers may be presumptuous and pompous but they’re not giving you anything you aren’t asking for. And if you aren’t asking for it, it is only because you don’t know you want it yet.

We also have Rusi, he weaves his tales around the electronic universe with seemingly absolute disregard for linear storytelling. A true master of grammar, if you do not wish you were one of the fantastic characters he creates it is probably because you have lost all faith in the world and are a cold charcoal block inside.

But who isn’t in these days of hard economic times? Rusi knows what he is writing is the truth and if you don’t get it then it’s not for you so fuck you. You have to admire that type of reckless abandon that the internet has fostered in many youth. Unfortunately it usually takes the format of an annoying counter strike playing thirteen year old. It is only after you watch Rusi at work that you can appreciate the scope of this drastic change and realize what it means. Nobody can tell me nothing because I can look it up on the internet.

Why am I lecturing you on the state of the bloggers on this site, and par extension the world? Because I felt it needed to be done. As you were.

The Rider: Introduction

2009-06-08T18:21:00.009-04:00

There is very little unknown about Bent Handstyle today. Presently, he is a superstar. Astronomically, he is nothing like a superstar, which burns massive amounts of energy at its brightest point then dies. Rather, Bent Handstyle has found a way to add more propellant to an already stellar career. Those with less nerve may caution against all the attention. Insinuating that nothing can last forever. These feelings are simply both a shame and a fault within weak humans being. Furthermore, that trend of thinking reveals how absolved some people can feel when they read Bent's material. If you were truly engaged you could understand that Bent's work is timeless like the expansion of the universe and still necessary like the collapse of a star, bringing forth a new solar system.

Bent spent most of his life in the lower east side of the city. It was an area rich in style and culture but more importantly the community was aware. I believe it is safe to say without his background we would never get the true grit shown in The Rider. What Bent does is provide us with an unapologetic blast of realism and after such an attack we should be left dumbfounded. But that is when the true genius of The Rider comes through. Instead of being left out in an unknown world Bent attempts, successfully, to reel us back to our sheltered lives. But the question is who wants to live there now.

The Rider, a short commentary first posted here on cmogenius, is no less necessary than other classics like The True Story of Mr. Laptop., and Ramblings Of A Sleepless Night. Actually I would go as far as to say The Rider stands on its own. Seeming similar to casual readers, but defiant in its execution to those well learned in Bent's work. If there needs to be a concern it should be that we only get a sample from him.

Getting Juicy

2009-05-28T23:28:00.004-04:00

Oftentimes I'll sit in my parking lot.
I idle my car with the shift set to reverse.
I plug my iPod into my stereo and listen to french house. LOUD.
I stare in the rear view mirror.

When people walk on my little piece of sidewalk I run them over.
I kill them.

I've got a pretty good pile going these days. Strangely the police haven't said anything yet.
Sorry.... Did I say my driveway? I meant I hijack stranger's cars and run people over....

Yeah I know... "Kid Vincent, you're fucked!!!"
Grow a pair.

How do you feel about men drinking coolers? Does it really make them cool, as the name implies? Vex? Woody's? Rockstar Vodka? What if a lumberjack was drinking a cooler at a house party? Would you go up to him and say, "Hello fine gentleman, that's quite the feminine beverage you're consuming there."

He would most likely respond saying there is no such thing as a feminine beverage as no inanimate object contains any gender identifying properties, and that the concept of a feminine beverage is simply a construct of phallic male-dominant society.

It's inevitable that he would then proceed to compartmentalize you into smaller more conveniently bite sized pieces with his bare hands.

YOU DON'T WANT THAT.

On a scale of one to ten how into lukewarm beverages are you? (all femininity of the said beverage aside)
Regular temperature water is the shit. Allegedy ice cold water is bad for your singing voice.
So all you Ben Gibbards out there had better throw out all your ice cubes or risk tarnishing your indie vocalist career for the rest time.

Try and picture forever. I dare you not to throw up.

Teenagers? A Change Of Heart?

2009-05-22T08:23:00.007-04:00

So the votes are in. Much to the chagrin of my fellow writer Vincent I am sure, it seems that in general people do believe teenagers are not worth their weight in gold. Much less in fact I presume, as I would easily trade off several teenagers for a McDonald's cheeseburger hold the cheese. Oh you don't know about the hold the cheese trick? I'll clue you in later, only because you believe teenagers should indeed be face trounced.

However, this is not the whole story as a second option, "Teenagers have mothers who love them" finished with the same amount of votes as my face trouncing option. Is a change of heart in order? Should I rescind my teenager hating ways because after it is all done we all have mothers who love us? Perhaps, I'm not so stubborn that I wouldn't give them a second chance, but HOLD ON! That's what they want isn't it? For us to let our guard down for a second, it won't take long for them to take advantage, they are able to do so many things so quickly with their free time and technology. No my friends, I for one will not turn my back on a teenager for fear of being shanked like a latino gangster in a shady detroit nightclub. I'll leave you to make your own decisions, but if there is one thing everyone should do...it's the hold the cheese trick.

The hold the cheese trick is a very very priviledged piece of information. I was able to obtain it whilst at HighSchool. I'm not sure how many McDonalds this works for or any other fast food chains, but I do know it works for at least one.

Basically it works like this, roll up to your nearest McDonalds' drivethru. Once there proceed to ask for a,

"Cheeseburger, hold the cheese."

They will try to dissuade you, "A Hamburger?" They will ask.

Decline the offer of a Hamburger, "No, a cheeseburger, hold the cheese."

"Want fries with that?"

"No, a cheeseburger, hold the cheese?"

See, you must always say the entire phrase. It's tough to pull off correctly. Someone might entice you to an apple pie, or a soft drink, but you must decline everything. Otherwise they will not bring you the real goods, and you definitely will not be admitted inside.

Before I continue here are some notes to ensure success. When asking for the cheeseburger without cheese, you musn't do just that. You can't change the phrase, it's been around since the dark ages and it's not about to change now.

"Cheeseburger, hold the cheese." Got it? Good. Next, when asking for this cheeseburger lower your voice and pretend like you have honey coated in your throat. That's right, you have to sound sly and very shady, speaking just above a whisper should be your approximate decibel goal. This is so they don't think you are a retard and just bring you a hamburger which is definitely NOT what you want. What do you want? Heh, the goods baby. You want the gooooods. And if you follow these steps correctly you're going to get them.

Happy hunting, I know some of you will be rewarded with so many goods, others will not, I once was with someone trying to get some goods, he requested a poutin hold the cheese and all we got was gravy fries, remember its a cheeseburger. You probably won't get any goods your first try, because they won't trust you sounding all sketch and everything, but the sketchy voice WILL help you get more goods on future trips. Hopefully you'll come back here and entice us all with what goods you got. Finally after you have most of the goods... well no, that's too much information.

My Girlfriend's Better Than Your Girlfriend

2009-05-20T09:27:00.003-04:00

Seriously.

She runs like a ninja.

She owns the Star Wars double trilogy (all six films).

She has strong alcoholic tendencies.

She has an accent.

She pronounces clothes, clowths.

Did I mention she runs like a ninja? Yea, that's not a joke.

She once promised to braid me the smallest braid.

She knows how to find the big dipper and other constellations.

She can name different horse breeds by the sound of their neigh.

She said black people remind her of cats because they don't like swimming.

She holds the all time high jump record at her high school.

She can summon lightning storms by throwing a flask filled of special chemicals she discovered into the sky.

She memorized Pi to 150 decimals and decided to memorize the periodic table of elements while she was at it.

She reads comic books that I haven't heard of.

She built her own hut and tamed wild animals there for a year.

She's pretty alright.

Guess what.

2009-05-15T20:26:00.001-04:00

I would do ANYTHING to go into outer space.

ANYTHING.

You Can't Ever Be Scared

2009-05-14T19:32:00.002-04:00

Never scared. Never ever scared. You want the loosest girls, and the fastest money. You want to be the loudest on the public transit and the hottest during the summer. You post up at the club and speak the illest slang. And it’s because you’re never ever ever scared.

Word to all my gangsters. It’s not easy, you have to be tough all the time. And you can’t get punked out by no two timing trick, dem gangster girls be trouble and you gotta keep your bitch held down. And that’s not simple. There is no manual, different bitches have to be held down in different ways. You have to wear the heaviest gaudiest jewellery that weighs your neck down a considerable amount. You wish you could take it off, but you know that is not really an option. And not only do you have to wear it, you have to remind people every few minutes that it cost you a stack, or if you don't want them knowing the precise amount, a guap.

You gotta out stare, out man and out crew, every gangter that’s not associated with you. You must treat every new face as an enemy until they have proven that they mean you no harm. Give the gangsters some slack. You have to look angry all the time, and actually get angry at the slightest provocation. You have to remember the Ebonics term for every little thing. And you can’t associate with nice people for fear of looking soft. In fact you can’t do a lot of things for fear of looking soft. You can’t say good morning, or how are you. You can’t let someone take your queue in line, because you’ve been fucking waiting there and if someone tries to take your place you have to be willing to kill them.

That’s another thing. You have to be willing to kill people all the time over the smallest things. You might think it’s dumb, but I think it’s difficult. You have to listen to the hardest rhymes and you have to spit mad rhymes yourself. You have to drink Colt45s and steal stuff all the time. Did I mention that you can’t never be ever ever ever scared? Because you can’t. If you think I’m being stereotypical then you don’t know as many gangsters as me, they ALL have to do this, or they lose their gangster license, and have to give back their timbs. (Timberland boots)

And you know what….on top of it all, gangsters get blamed for everything, they get blamed for a lot of murders, and global warming and the particle accelerator being shut down I hear is now being blamed on a young gangster named Thomas. Oh you were expecting Jamal or Tyrone? That’s because you’re a racist.

Kurt smells like Teen Spirit

2009-05-13T00:38:00.004-04:00

Breakfast Club. End of story.

Hate teenagers all you want, but we invented you. We're the defining marker of society. When you think of every major period in time you think of teenagers. Teenage cavemen, teenage pioneers, teenage breakdancers, teenage soldiers in WWIII, teenage Jesus. Yeah... He partied hard.

We break the law... We drink underage, we ride bikes legitimately looking cool instead of Lance Armstrong wannabes, blunts look cooler in the mouths of teenagers versus high, geriatric radio hosts, we invented punk rock.

Ever notice how the last realistically heart touching movie you saw was Juno or something like that where people are in high school and fall consistently in and out of love? That's cause only teenagers know the meaning of true love. DUH!!!!

The best film noir I ever saw was completely teenagers. And film noir is the pinnacle of cinematic expression. But I'm sure you knew that.

About the face trouncing... Good luck with that. Teenagers have piercings and shit in their faces, if you try and face trounce us, whatever you try and trounce us with will most likely be getting trounced with retroactive motion. Not to mention 90% of teenagers have a better knowledge of physics cause it's fresher in their memory. So don't act up.

Superbad, Freaks and Geeks, Juice, Dazed and Confused, Transformers. Just for the record.

You Bastards Had This One Coming

2009-05-08T18:57:00.003-04:00

I see you there. You’re young and your restless and your restless and young. You drive fast because you think your Paul Walker in Fast and Furious, but your body is nowhere near as banging as his.

I can say that comfortably as a heterosexual male. The biggest problem I had with that movie was Paul Walker didn’t take his shirt off once. I guess it was to be expected I think he’s turning 44 next month. Still has a great bod though. That being said.

You think you can stay up playing video games or chatting with your girlfriends until obscene times in the morning. Like the 24 hour day system doesn’t apply to you. Like you can just sleep and rise at your convenience because you don’t have a serious job and only work two days a week and every other weekend. And you think that’s bad. In fact, you complain if your shift is more than five hours long. Ooooooo you make me so mad. You’re making me rage over here. I see you watching much music and practicing your dance moves. I see you listening to Avril Lavigne and Jonas Brothers.

You’re teenagers. And I have declared war on you. From 13 all the way to 19, don’t let me catch you, because I’ll cut you so deep you’ll wish I never cut you. I’ve never met a teenager I didn’t want to face trounce, and a face trouncing is the very last thing you want. You think its fun time happy dance every fucking day of the week and if I see one more pimply Gossip Girls afficiando in my peripheral vision I don’t know what I’ll do. I’m not a violent person by nature so I know it’s you and not me. If you’re reading this consider yourself warned. Either start acting like you got some god dang respect or I’ll strangle it outta you. I have a friend named Rusi, and I know he won't hesitate to strangle you.

Grandpa Handstyle Out
Word to all my 20 somethings trying to get fucked.

We don't need no water, we're arsonists retard...

2009-05-07T12:02:00.002-04:00

Whatever science told you today, forget about it.

This is where geniuses collide like we're a bunch of Hadrons in a huge tunnel underground.

All of your favourite bloggers are out of school as far as I'm aware. It would seem that I'm the only one not cool enough to be out getting wasted instead of reaching out to my fans on a Thursday afternoon.

This is really early for me right now. I'm trying to make the most out of my break by waking up at a decent hour instead of 6PM everyday like I did during the school year.

This summer is full of potential. This summer is a trial by fire.

Ever feel like the forces of the universe are testing your mettle?

No?

Yeah me neither....

What do you guys do to get rid of a cough? Sometimes a genius doesn't have all the answers, thus the contemporary mix part.... What do you guys do to make money?

I'm still thinking about grabbing a Pyrex and hitting the corners. Who do you have to know to become a famous drug dealer like Rick Ross?

What do you guys do for fun? That whole aspect of my life has been extracted from my life since I've been in university. Like those worms that they put in your eyeballs in the Matrix...

I loiter and listen to 90s dancehall for fun sometimes... But I'm curious about what you guys do.

Do people every give you a hard time for being a lightskin?Even like, if you're just white...?

Or if you're particularly dark?

Tell them their breath smells, and then refuse them a stick of Wrigley's for good measure.

Do me a favour and try not to betray your heart's deepest emotions in your facebook status.

2009-05-04T23:38:00.004-04:00

Does it make me asshole if I read about blogs on wikipedia before I blog on blogger?

Is that like reading about crumping before going to perform at the school talent show?

How long does it take words to enter our dictionary? Why is crumping not in there yet? I've been crumping since like grade 8...

Given the current circumstances we are in an age of great potential. We stand on the brink of 2012 with our flags in one hand and guns in the other. BUT THERE IS HOPE.

My prediction for the future is that piggyflu (H1N1R2D2) will turn people into super cybernetic pig zombies that vomit blood.

Once the alien race comes in an attempt to right all the wrongs of humanity done to sweet Mother Earth, all us swinebots will fuck all ya'll alien hoes right up the yin yang!!11!!!!

True story. Why do you think I'm so mentally advanced for my age? I know you've always wondered that. It's not cause I read books or play videogames till I give my friends xbox36o the red rings of death.

It's cause I'm from the future and I'm immortal and I had brain implants in the future to make me super smart.

So yeah, basically...

It's pretty cool.

Pirates. Not so bad?

2009-05-02T16:22:00.004-04:00

I think there is a moment for everyone when they realize they want all the life. All of it. You want to squeeze every night and mix it with every day to a proportion that would only satisfy a mad man. And why not get a little crazy. You deserve to you are paying for this time so you might as well drink it up. It all looks edible now doesn't it. Experience has sharpened your teeth and only made your stomach bigger. I wonder what will be consumed first. You know what? It's wrong to say this epiphany is like a thirst or hunger because that would assume at some point you were satisified. No, the real beauty of your awakening is when you understand, forever, nothing has satisfied you.

Lets take up arms, quams, scuffles and battle always. This is the code for those who have lost their connection with the community. We're in the badlands now completely surrounded but entirely alone and I see a bunch of stuff I want.

Groups may gather around them but every grave is for one person.

Please support your locoal diaspora Somali Pirate group they are just trying to live life to the fullest. More seriously though, probably in the next 50 years they will have an established government that taxes ships for passing through their waters. So, I say pay the pirate tax now and later.

He still use a scanner? Yo I'm cooler than that guy.

2009-04-23T17:34:00.008-04:00

I am cleaning my room.

I am a firm believer in Fung Shui being complete bullshit.

Thus I absolve not to rearrange anything aside from the crap that hangs out my carpet.

FOR EXAMPLE:

Dust
Cat Hair
Dead Skin
Crumbs
Spilt Beer, Water and Bodily Fluids
My deadbeat feline companion Arlo.

The cat photographed above is not Arlo. But he is a cat. And he is rather ugly, thus disposing of Bent's theory that girls will go lady gaga over our blog if we put pics of kitties and things on every post.

I would show you a picture of Arlo but I broke my digital camera very recently whilst trying to prepare a series of photographs for the Side Order of Style "What does a Genius dress up as for everyday besides Halloween and Senior Prom?" Collection.

I put it up on my television and my seemingly suicidal Canon SD1000 Digital Elph leapt to it's "Lens Error" demise.

i H8 technology guyz...

So here I am getting resourceful, as per usual. Like that time I went to knock boots only to find that someone has stolen my junk and replaced it with actual junk.

FOR EXAMPLE

Tires
Diapers
VHS copies of What Women Want and Gladiator
Rusty nails
NES Cartridges of E.T. The Extra-Terrestrial (Which was sweet cause that's like the best game ever)
The entire Motley Crue discography
Cookie Bags (my mom suggested that one) lawl... what's a cookie bag?
Banana Peels
A phat stack of loose leaf (EARTH DAY WAS YESTERDEY GUYZ CUM-ON!!!)
Back issues of Rolling Stone Magazine (yeah, I went there. Just cause Obama is on the cover like every month doesn't mean you guys are "cool" or "progressive")

Anyways, because I invented DIY (seriously, some guy asked me to help him start a record label when I was like 4 years old and I just said "DO IT YOURSELF!") I melted all the junk with my lazer *zzzztttt zzzztttt* vision and formed it all into one proportionately-sized, trash-based reproductive organ.

SCORE.

So as I was saying. I've been making due without my Digital Elph (which isn't actually any kind of Elf, digital or analog... Lame I know...) by investing in all manner of outdated photographic medium.

I shot a whole roll on a disposable camera and it turned out incredible. The nice folks at shoppers drug mart who know all about my various diseases and sexual inclinations even gave me a disc so I could upload my pictures right onto the Book. That's facebook for short.

This week I also copped a Polaroid camera from the 80's off craigslist. They don't make film anymore though so I have to buy the expired stuff from other people off the internet. *sigh*

It's worth it though.

You ask, "Why not buy a new digital camera or get your old one fixed?"

FOR EXAMPLE:

I'm kind of poor
I like having real prints of photos no matter how small or over exposed
ur a dumb hoe who don't know nuttin' bout NEthing NEways.

Besides, if I did, what would I blog about?

Greetings

2009-04-22T12:24:00.004-04:00

O MAN! Where do I begin. There's so much for us to discuss. Come sit cross legged while I rock in my rocking chair and share the stories that bind our lives together, since I've last posted. Almost a month ago? Irregardless <- not a word. Get comfortable, no...get cozy, cozy is like one up on the ‘at ease scale’ than comfortable. I think comfortable means you're mostly at ease, while being cozy denotes that you are completely at ease. Well where should I start?

First off Happy Belated Homeless Day! What's homeless day? It's the first day of the year in Toronto where the temperature rises above 20 degrees Celsius. I think it was late last week, and let me tell you, I saw some of the happiest looking homeless. Happy as in they weren’t cold. Which is all it takes really. Anyway the festivities include tag, hide and seek, and find food. Which is also the overarching theme of the day. Anyway, if you missed it, you probably aren’t homeless so good for you. In a related note Homeless Day is also Mini Skirt day, so there’s something for everyone.

I want to tell you the story of the little cactus. You see the cactus didn’t need rain man. It doesn’t need it. Has anyone yet attempted to ‘confiscate’ a police bicycle? I’ve noticed they don’t chain or lock them up. I could just hop on, and ride off with the sweetest 10 speed on the whole block. If I don’t do that before I’m thirty, going to university will have meant nothing.

Hrm. I’ve seemed to run out of blog worthy content already. I saw a girl with a CD player outside. Iunno what that's about if anything. Well if I’ve nothing more to say you can at least take solace in the simple truth that I’m posting again. Which I’m sure means a lot to my friend’s mom, and my other friend’s friend. O, and all you followers, nine is a good number, since it’s so close to ten and everything. And finally, Rusi’s real first name is not Braylon.

Peace and Chicken Grease

2009-04-20T00:25:00.005-04:00

Taking a shit is only complicated if you make it complicated. For instance, while at the gym I saw my friend's father. I approached him and said hey what's up then commenced the common line of questioning in the gym. Like, what are you working on today? When do you usually come here? Whats your max bench? After that's out the way you usually start talking about lazy people as to boost your own resolve for ignoring other responsibilities. That's why I like the gym its both a physical and mental exercise facility. I love the ego boost you get from lifting more than some fat guy and the verdant moments provided by the women on stair masters, its just amazing. There is one part of my routine at the gym I like best and that is shit time. Yes, at some point after stretching or an epic ab workout my boules loosen up and the precursors for a massive performance can be smelt in the air. Postponing the release of excrement may lead to shit in my pants moments and/or ill timed gaseous expulsion, that's why I never hesitate to take a shit.

Making my way to the bathroom I was delighted to see there was no one around to bother me. I'm not saying I need absolute silence that would be weird and I would liken it to taking a shit in a library. I'm not about that. However, I noticed there was someone in the stall beside mine and that was fine because the toilet in use was of the handicap variety. Which to me says "hey I'm not handicapped I just want the space so I can spread out and take a great shit." I was fine with that because that's exactly what I wanted to do; I wanted take a great shit.

Using my new found ab strength combined with my testosterone fueled attitude for not givin a fuck. I crapped all over that toilet. It was loud, it was smelly and it warned anyone within the proximity to sense it to be wary of a nearby alpha male.

Turns out it was my friends dad in the stall beside me. We exchanged short glances washed our hands and did not speak. So now I'm online looking up the correct way to execute a courtesy flush

Sincerely yours,

-Braylon "Tha Shit" Rusi

Day 1 and 2

2009-04-08T14:48:00.006-04:00

I haven't slept in over 41 hours.
But I think if you keep taking showers no one, not even yourself, will notice. My bro once told me some guy tried to stay up for a week and he eventually started going a little crazy. I think I'm gonna try and stay up for at least 3 days. Just to see what happens.

If you feel caffine and or energy drinks are cheating and or just plain bad for my health pipe up.

So far im getting pretty tired more updates to come. PEACE.

Say Cheese

2009-04-05T04:31:00.005-04:00

You're hot.

You have hot friends.

You and your hot friends go out every night and take hot pictures of each other at hot places doing hot things.

You put your hot pictures of you and your hot friends doing hot things at hot places up on the internet so your other hot friends who perhaps were not present that evening can comment and remind you how hot you are.

One thing I share in common with the people I surround myself with is the unspoken acceptance of the belief that

we're just too cool for that shit.

10 Stacks, Come On Now That's 10 Grand

2009-04-02T17:29:00.002-04:00

Yo!

I have 9 999 songs on my computer right now.

What do you guys thing would be a meaningful song to add as numero dix-millièmes?

I'm having trouble deciding...

If I can get a top 4 we'll make it a poll.

This Is Why Mexico Is For Tournements ONLY!

2009-03-25T15:02:00.001-04:00

Senior officials said Mrs. Clinton would press the Mexican president, Felipe Calderon, to redouble his government’s effort to root out corruption in the police force and the courts.

“His commitment to the struggle for security and judicial reform, and the other elements of his agenda, to deal with lawlessness in Mexico, is full-speed-ahead,” she said.

For instance, Mrs. Clinton said, the United States will help supply Mexican law enforcement officers with helicopters and night-vision goggles and other equipment to take on the cartels, which are armed to the teeth.

“We’ve got to figure out how to stop these bad guys,” she said. “These criminals are outgunning the law enforcement officials.”

-New York Times

Boogers

2009-03-25T02:48:00.003-04:00

What is it about writing essays that puts me in this state?

Paralysed, completely amoral and unmotivated. Apathy is the real thing here. I don't care. I know it's overdue, I am well aware. In fact it's all I can think about, but at the same time, lying in bed and staring at the ceiling seems like something that needs to be taken care of right this instant. This apathy seeps into my real life, I wander around, I talk slowly, if a girl came to tell me I was belligerent and had smelly breath, I'd probably just nod and tell her that her hair was greasy or something. Stuff like that really upsets them.

It amazes me, the tenacity some people posses, to have the dedication to turn down the opportunity to spend time with friends or family or to take part in some other form of socially/anti-socially enriching experience, in exchange for doing homework. Do people honestly find this stuff fascinating, as gorgeous and complex as the fine details in conversation, the chills you get from your favourite music? I honestly believe by the time this is all over one of us will have regrets, it's a toss up whether it will be them or me.

I like exams. In fact, the notion of an exam kind of makes me horny at this point. I enjoy that kind of evaluation because although it is hardly conducive to real learning, it still makes a crapload more sense then excessively arguing one point to death, as if all opinions in the world are either true or false. Studying for an exam is nice too. You have an allotted amount of time, and you know exactly how much you can study in that much time. Once you're done you have reached a critical mass as to how much you can know about any trivial subject (e.g. Mitosis, The Spartans, or Baudrillard's Precession of Simulacra). With an exam you have no such time frame. There is no way to know how long it will take you to research a topic, process it and shit out an opinion on said topic that in many cases has absolutely nothing to do with what the author or whatever was talking about in the first place.

There is no way to predict the many pitfalls that may arise when starting an essay, such as, the assignment topic you chose is new and thus has never been done by any student before and is potentially flawed/impossible, the assigned reading for your topic is at a level way beyond practical consumption (maybe we as society have just gotten lazy, but we should be getting lazy together in proportion, thanks smartmouth asshole professor) or the book you borrowed from the library actually has nothing to do with the topic you're researching, or is bullshit and from 1994 when everyone had stupid haircuts.

When I found out I was anemic I was actually rather excited. I had hopes that once my deficiency was eliminated I would become superhuman, with the capacity and endurance to excel in stuff like team sports and classroom presentations on bristol boards. This was not the case, in fact I'm having an incredible amount of difficulty finding a happy medium as there is the possibility of getting too much iron which causes similar symptoms as not having enough.

Fucking hemoglobin.

I wish I could say I hate my life, but I've been playing Fallout 3 and it is really enriching my existence.

On top of that the mere thought of owning and customizing a bike this summer fills me with a sugary sense of joy that saturates my arms and legs.

2009-03-23T22:39:00.003-04:00

You don't like word association!? Well then how do you understand what you're reading?

tendon
scab cake
crab cake
dead lake
scandnavian root shakes
power-pause

A power-pause: After someone is done saying something you remain silent. If executed properly the person talking should lose confidence giving you a chance to assume the dominant position in the conversation. If I could power-pause a situation I would do it all the time but that's just not me. I have to fill the gaps with questions, shit I know, comments, miscellaneous feedback like half grunt half laugh, short burst laugh, smile laugh open mouth no sound and smile laugh closed mouth no sound head bob. All other negative feedback falls under stern face cause I'm black and my stern face is scary.

Power-pausing is neither negative or positive it actually is nothing but silence. The person being subjected to a power-pause is forced to assume what the silence means. What a dickhead move right? You're in reality whistling Dixie cause you aint no city boy and then someone forces you into your mind where there are no rules. It's unfair but really it isn't so I guess telling you it is unfair was a useless point. Irregardless, I have a trick for surviving the onslaught your ego may put you through during a power-pause. I conviently put them into steps seperate from the rest of this post so you can paste them in notebook and possibly print them out on a card.

1) Take a deep breath it's your mind so you're in control
2) Remember that this person wants you to think or else they would pipe up and say something
3) So if you're in control and it's time to think then why not make it a positive experience
4) power-pauses are all about not offering any feedback so technically the person you are talking to does not want to be in existance for that moment. Which means you are free to think about yourself or things that concern you.
5) Come back to reality at some point.

I don't want you to be overwhelmed on your first delve into your mind so here are some things I like to do during a power-pause. I mentally massage my shoulders because it would be nice to always have a shoulder massage so I imagine I'm getting one. You could also think of doing some other nice things for yourself like remembering a good meal or thinking of a great slam dunk.

Honestly I wrote this post then googled power-pause to find a pic and this is what I found; Power Pause. NUTS! We have slightly different ideas but I think I should write a book called "The Real Power Pause"

Yo Fuck This Guy

2009-03-21T10:24:00.002-04:00

I said that quite a few times last night to various people in various different circumstances. Cut Copy is great. I love the music. It makes me happy. Circa: the venue in which they played last night is the opposite, in the sense that it is not great, and it does not make me happy. This is because it sucks and it makes me angry. And this is because there are a lot of people (girls and guys) that need to fuck off.

When we got to the venue I pulled the biggest club line butt-in of my life. I actually just went right behind the guy at the front of the line. It was pretty apparent but the Macho guarding the door didn't seem to care. There was a bit of a commotion behind me however, I heard the faint ramblings of, "He totally butted", but I didn't seem to care, and the powers at be gave me their blessing because the man at the front of the line said we can go ahead of him because we butted right in the middle of the group and his friends were behind us. That part was great.

First, we present out tickets, one guy takes em and waves us inside.

"Ugh, don't we get a wristband or a stamp?"

"No, no in and out"

"Okay...but everyone else with tickets are getting wristbands..."

He just continued waiving, my friend was pretty irked by his behavior and I comforted her with a "fuck that guy."

We arrived obviously looking for the bar. There was a lady beside me trying to get some water (weak) but I felt bad cause the barbitch was full on giving her the "We Don't Serve No Water At Coyote Ugly" routine. After much shouting and waiting the lady finally got her water, and after much waiting on my part I got our drinks, minus the alcohol. I didn't ask for a coke, and I let her know by chugging the whole glass in front of her and asking for a beer. As I walked away I shot her a sideglance which basically sums up to a visual interpretation of "Yo, fuck this guy" I notice she tried shooting me a glance but she was doing busy serving people child drinks to pull off a good one, so I won that battle.

At this point I was already feeling a bit pissed. Cut Copy wasn't on yet, and Circa sucks so me and my Paolo Rey (you know who you are and that's your new nickname) were mostly ranting about how bad it is. I had to go to the bathroom and about 30 dudes decided they had to go at the exact same time as me. I know this because I was walking toward the bathroom door which had absolutely no line up, and by the time I got there there was a lineup major. Which is french for major lineup. I was so steaming I just said fuck you guys.

Later on in the night Paolo's drink was finished and she didn't know where to put it, so I took it from and flung it on the ground along with my beer, that was just a little follow up fuck you to circa and the barbitch.

By now Paolo and I got separated with the rest of our group. This will inevitably happen anytime you go anywhere with anyone. We decided to go back downstairs to have a marginally better chance of finding them. However there was a security guard blocking the stairs. He started letting people in but wouldn't let Paolo and I through. This was the last straw really.

"You're not letting us go downstairs!?"

"No, downstairs is blocked now."

"You just let those people down."

"Get outta here guys."

I thought of the best way to humiliate him, so I turned to Paolo and stuck out my thumb like I'm hitchhiking, and cocked it way back over to the security guard. This is known as the "that guy" gesture. So I gave him the "that guy" complete with the "this guy is a clown" facial expression, and then turned to him and gave my most audible, "Yo fuck this guy" of the night. I could see him soak the pain in, at which point we left. Two more fuck this guy moments occured but you already read the best one so I'll leave those out for brevity. But after all those moments we decided to just leave (note Cut Copy was great though although we couldn't really see them well).

Upon leaving I had a nice conversation with a stranger about how bad Circa is, so that was nice.

Fantasies

2009-03-21T03:51:00.006-04:00

It's likely that you're going to read this eventually.

If you are, then WIFE ME ALREADY!

Now that that's out of the way. Seen Watchmen yet? I really loved the graphic novel (will be referred to as comic from here on in). I won't act like I'm all cool and off the bandwagon. I bought the comic after I saw the trailer for the movie.

I'm not that far ahead of the crowd. Not to say I'm not ahead of the crowd. I already have the new Metric album.

Yeah.

Did you know that the comic is completely symmetrical? From the two centre pages, every opposite page moving outwards has the same panel scheme. Really hard to explain, but look it up. The idea is it's supposed to match the Rorschach mask that changes in every panel.

I really am totally into nuclear holocaust these days.

Fallout 3 is really forcing me to question my sense of morality. It's a crazy world out there. What part do you play. Do you ever wonder if anything you do in your life will ever make a difference?

Ever have existential crises? I'm kind of into that these days too. I wonder what my direct environment would be like if I didn't exist. Probably a lot less spicy. What would the world be without the interwebs? I'd probably be tucked into bed right now. Or be watching TV with Ma Dukes.

I've retired from doing homework. I just look at clothes online that I would like to purchase but can't afford. I had insufficient funds in Wendy's today...

I'm really a lot less impressive of an individual than I had once been led to believe.

Seriously though. Wife me.

You know who you are.

Born Like This

2009-03-20T18:46:00.003-04:00

I wasn't going to declare that I'm back until after exams. I never been known to be a hot head, but I've never been known to necessarily reflect on the consequences of my actions before I do them either. In any case. I decree we are back. This is because I found a leak of the new DOOM (formally MF DOOM) album Born Like This. This is like finding water in the desert, in a time where Hip Hop is drifting further and further off my radar I CAN NOT WAIT to listen to the sound porn that is DOOM. If you're not already hype head over to youtube and sample some of his new stuff. All I can say is DOOM never went anywhere.

In other news I'm heading to Cut Copy's show tonight, that should be a flavor wave of fun.

In way more obscure news I found this tshirt on threadless that can be described as shirt porn. That's it up there and to the left ^^.

Goddamnit motherfuckers. It's the motherfucking villain.

communal society is seriously flawed and expect a very dry very staunch post from me in the next 12 hours letting all you ass bloods know why.

A Thought While On Hold With A Gremlin

2009-03-19T18:09:00.003-04:00

Uno moment s'il vous plais. I don’t speak English anymore. I’m only writing this in English so that you may understand it. I speak the language of love. We don’t use words, we use hugs and kisses. And we don’t have punctuation; we have breakfast in bed and romantic comedies. Hugh Grant wrote the love dictionary.

I’m just kidding ya, I still speak English, but not by choice, its just a force of habit. But what is habit? Popular philosophers, none smarter than I, have argued that Humans are free to do whatever they like whenever they so choose, so what does habit have to do with anything if life as a deterministic model is ruled out. It seems like there’s more to it then just choice…

Contemporary Mix Of Genius

Take a bite

Dimethyltryptamine

Where the fucks my pen?

It's A Bush Not Your Bush!

Do You Know Where Your Children Are?

Big Ups!

I Aint Ever Scared

At least I'm not a vegetable

Times should be hard... somehow they aren't.

Change of the Guard

Had to do it again!

And the living is easy...

More A Reflex Than Anything Else

Need more frosted flakes

Throwing Smoke? That Sounds Cool Too!

I Need a Dollar

Identity Crisis

Lights...(not the artist)

Find Them and Destroy Them

CH-CH-BLAOW!!!

Cause and Effect

*Cough, Cough*

But Moses Turned Out Okay

Post your pictures on the internet at your own risk!!!

It's a Working Title

Man Down

THE SUPERVILLAIN STRIKES AGAIN

I will have sex with anyone who knows who this is a picture of

Where's the Internet My Grandfather Created?

Okay You Guys...

You, me and Mimi talking about Memes, Drinking coffee with sugar and creams

CSI Comic Competition Continues

Howdy

CSI COMIC CHALLENGE 2010!! OMG!!

An Open Letter To Bent Handstyle

Homeboys In Space

Sweaty Gym Shorts

Blunt Notes For Hire

Say it Like You Mean it

Stay alive, stay under the covers!

This Aint Reality TV

Not Your Typical New Year's Post?

I missed you

YUP!

Teach Yourself: An Iller Vocab

MUSIC!!! OMG!

Divel...oooohhh I get it.

Dawn of the Assholes

Get on my music nuts

There Will Be Posts!

False Prophets Inside a Giant Hot Air Ballon Face. For Real.

Low kick to hyper to hadouken to high kick to super to throw to light punch, light punch heavy punch to hyper

Mortal Kombat + Uppercut = ?

The saga continues Wu-tang, Wu-tang.

The Takeover

This post will get you laid. Read On.

OH MY GOD FUCK ME FUCK ME FUCK ME FUCK ME!!!

In case you were wondering

Honestly

YES, THIS HAPPENED.

Repping it HARD

OMG Girls Night Two!

OMG! Girls Night!~

Booty Juice

The Rider: Prologue

We're Assholes And You Love It

The Rider: Introduction

Getting Juicy

Teenagers? A Change Of Heart?

My Girlfriend's Better Than Your Girlfriend

Guess what.

You Can't Ever Be Scared

Kurt smells like Teen Spirit

You Bastards Had This One Coming

We don't need no water, we're arsonists retard...

Do me a favour and try not to betray your heart's deepest emotions in your facebook status.

Pirates. Not so bad?

He still use a scanner? Yo I'm cooler than that guy.

Greetings

Cough, Cough