The Olsen Twins will be able to do porn legally soon… I cant wait till those whores are on Playboy.

Speaking of whores, I miss Mike… I keep on finding his pic on alt.bears.binaries.whack.off.pics.bears.did.I.mention.bears?moderated. Yeah I cruise newsgroups. Thats so ’94. I digress…Mike did these pics a few years back for a photographer’s site…someone raided it I guess or he released them himself. Who can say? Again…Im rambling. The point is I feel weird finding these pics when Im cruising for porn. Its an ego boost (I slept with that!) and a Jealous Italian curse at the same time. When we were together, i was always jealous of him. He had the personality and the charm and he would attract the guys around him like flies around a dirty Le Chateau bolero jacket covered in marinated steak blood. You get the picture…He was the happy open one in our relationship. I miss his laughter. I could make him laugh easy…which I loved about him. I could pick my nose and he would laugh. I think our relationship was based on humour: we met by me posting an idiot pic on my chat profile…wait…I’ll get it…Here it is…me in a dress goofing like an idiot in front of a Hello Kitty doll. I was the only pic like that in gay.com’s bear room. He messaged me instantly. I wont go into the details of our break up and weird reconnection but we’re in this greyzone relationship thing where I may or may not be moving out to Vancouver next year. We’re meeting up in Calgary next month. I cant wait. Like I said, he made me happy when he was laughing.

Overheard (hard not to) while waiting for a trainer and her padawan health nut at the leg curl machine:

“With all the research I’ve been doing I have discovered that the terrorists who died during 9-11 were all extremely handsome men. Dispite the US trying to villainze them.”

“I have been spending a lot of time on Corbis.com looking at news images of tragedy and disaster. Of course you have that big watermark on the pictures but you get a sense of what’s going on.”

“I have to push myself away from my computer or else I really get caught up with these images.”

At this point, I shoot a look at the personal trainer who I am sure is not even getting paid 1/10th what she deserves for listening to this stuff. She’s near-pineapple ham glazed over.

Meanwhile:
Last Sunday, Sharkboy and I did our first Aquafit class, which was fun, dispite being in the pool by 7:45am (We’re going to go off Coronation Street for a while – who has 4 hours on a Sunday to watch Dev and Sanita drool over each other?). The class was lead by a suprisingly grounded and calm instructor who had created a great program for short and tall, old and young, healthy and not so healthy. I felt pretty good getting through this class (it was the first aerobic work out I have ever been to since that near-puking episode at Spinning class back in ’96). Sure Sharkboy and I were the youngest, skin-tightiest, non-wheezing whale-like participants but we did manage to work up a sweat (in a pool?) and my calves are paying for it today.

I absolutely hate forgeting something at home. These days I’m going to the gym, stopping at Sharkboy’s and dropping off freelance work so the chances are pretty good that I will forget something really important back at home.

This morning I walked right up to the Subway gates and realized that I had paid the streetcar driver what should have been $2.50 but instead I had thrown into his box a twoonie and two subway tokens. No biggie. I’ll just go ’round the corner to the bank and get some money…

Wallet. Not. In. Pocket.

In my minds eye, I can see my wallet hopping up and down on my night table saying “Hey! Wait for me!”

Penniless, I had to hoof it over to Sharkboy’s office and sweat profusely in front of his co-workers as he gave me a twenty.

Sharkboy and I are going on a cruise and I’m scoping out hotels at work and decide to go to one of those “discount” hotel sites and plug in my info:

One night, two occupants, mid-November.

I get this result:

A two and a half star hotel near the airport for one night is around $1500?! I guess I better sell that kidney. Oh wait, I can’t. It’s fused together.

I am waiting for the print shop to open this morning, watching the Yonge Street crowd trundling off to work and I spy a typical “bank worker” guy: almost-too-short cheap dress pants, nondescript shirt, backpack on his thin mid-twenties frame, glasses, just washed slicked hair.

And a samurai sword, sheathed, in hand. I love this city.

I have never posted anything regarding the contents of my iPod but I feel I have to since OldAudioDude gave me a $20 iTunes store and he may want to know what I spent it on. Special note to the people relieving one of these gift certificates: scratch lightly. I tried 27 of a possible 34 combinations to gain access when I accidentally dug so hard into the tail end of the Scratch Here! Revel in my first and last ever iPod music list (now with superstrength DRM!):

E=MC2, Big Audio Dynamite. Sample-y goodness!

The Globe, Big Audio Dynamite II. Reminds me of living in Brixton, near The Cube!

Train In Vain, The Clash. I had to get this. I only had Annie Lennox’s version.

Weathered Wall, David Sylvian. Lookit me! I’m an art fag!

We R In Need of a Musical Revolution, Esthero. She’s back! Her voice is Godzilla and my heart is Tokyo!

Rollercoaster (King Britt Scuba Mix), Everything But the Girl. I needed an atypical Tracy Thorn hit.

Emerge, Fischerspooner. Lookit me! I’m an art fag laughing at the old art fag!

European Son, Japan. Nigel once scolded me for placing England within Europe.

Night In My Veins, The Pretenders. Doin’ it up against a car!

Kid, The Pretenders. Rainy Earls Court song.

Absolute, Scritti Politti. Gay factor 9.5. Makes me dance like a lemur.

Breakout, Swing Out Sister. Rainy Brixton song.

Surrender, Swing Out Sister. Rainy Camden Market song.

Life During Wartime, Talking Heads. OldAudio might remember driving around in Mum’s new Pontiac 2000 with this on the tape deck.

The Rabbit of Saville, Warner Bros. Live. “Can’t you see that I’m much sweeta? I’m your little Sen-yor-ee-tur!”

Five Fathoms, Everything But The Girl. One of the first songs I ever downloaded. And lost.

Hollaback Girl, Gwen Stefani. There is an angry cheerleader in all of us.

Deeper and Deeper, The Fixx. No explanation.

I’ve packed waaay too much stuff. One hockey duffel bag full of t-shirts and telescope. One gym bag full of shoes. One knapsack full of electronics. Even all after all that, I have the little gnome on my shoulder nagging at me that I’ve forgotten something.

Simple. Don’t let the blob guy get your cursor. (via Ghost of a Flea)

I’m suprisingly without much to say today so I will post a bean recipe I’m making up off the top of my head:

• Fist full of fresh green beans, ends off
• handfull of almonds (chopped or crushed)
• a gob of butter (cover the bottom of your frying pan at least)
• half a lemon

Sautee the beans in the butter for about 10 minutes, medium heat. Add the almonds. Keep going for about 5 minutes. Near the end, squeeze the lemon into the pan.

Remove. Kosher salt to taste. Cracked pepper too if you’re so inclined.

This Saturday I am hanging a few pictures at the Timothy’s Coffee Clutch (or “The Bear Store” if you’re so inclined) at Church and Alexander. A collection of pop art canvases of characters involved with risk management while infringing on copywright laws. Here’s a sneak peek for you. As a tangent thought: remember how the major networks use to generate so much hype about the Fall Saturday Morning Cartoon Season? Brightly coloured full page ads in Archie + Jughead comics. They use to get me so whipped out of shape in anticipation to see these crap cartoons (Hey… I’ve seen this before. Speed Buggy is really Scooby Doo. They’re just hashing out the same characters!!) while munching on my sister’s perfect PB+J sammiches. I have no clue where that random synapse fire came from.

The next pic is a preview illustration for The Black Eagle’s Halloween poster. You get the drift: barrel of toxic zombie monkeys. I did this in seconds, had no scanner so I took a picture of it with my digicam, ran it through photoshop, streamline and then illustrator. Then I saw where my line mistakes were and need to redraw some of it and do the whole process again. But I like the energy of it. Zombie Monkeys!!

An amazing translation for a fuzzy household item:

Front:

SUPER – Family are essential
New product of 21th century

TEN THOUSAND USE
THE DISH CLOTH
• The softness absorbs
• water wring dry
• easily do not drop the floss

Back:

Characteristics: jie card dish cloth, the adoption imports the high class absorbs water the natural plant in sex fiber,combining to was processed by international advanced techique to make into,is material that excellent product to match the enviromental protection,it is soft,absorbing water the dint strong,wring dry easily,after using only through use the cleaning of water can immediately wash away cloth top dirty mark dust,convenience fleetness.
Use: be applicable to put on the clean living room,kitchen and bath indoor and every kind of surface,include furniture,container,electris appliances,piano,car, dining table,ceramic tile,window slot,bathtub and superficial and dirty xO, dust in,etc.in faucets and waters order.fuck to put on the wet putting on all can.

Fuck to put on the wet, indeed!

Last week the TTC announced the Pizzazz Me contest (http://www.toronto.ca/ttc/pizzazzme.htm) to improve the rider experience. Winners get a metropass!

Holy. Crap.

It’s quite clear that none of the TTC marketing department actually use the TTC. Okay I know that “they’re trying” and that if it’s so awful then they’re just doing their part to make the travelling experience a bit better. But if they actually used the service, then they’d be all “pizzazzed” over the guy I, and the rest of the northbound Yonge car had to deal with this morning. Long off his meds, this gentleman could only wander up and down the length of the car mumbling in high pitched squeaks. His pants boasted his inabilitiy to hold his bladder (thankfully this was a fresh accident because he amazingly had not started to smell of urine). He moved up and down the length of the car parting passengers like Moses. Nobody did anything.

Here’s my Pizzazz Me suggestion: Take the money from the marketing and prizes for this stupid contest and fund at lease one new security guard position. One guard will make a difference.