Tag Archives: laughs

Meeting the In-Laws

Celebs and Media, Personal Bits, political

This afternoon I was treated to free theatre by my brother, Michael. Bless his heart, without him the only culture I’d get would be PS3 gaming blogs for cheat codes.

He’s in “Stuff Happens” at the Royal Alexander Theatre, playing George Bush in a play that is…

a dramatic speculation, authenticated from multiple real-life sources, on the behind-closed-door proceedings that have shaped recent world events

When we had dinner earlier in the week we talked about the play and how it was coming along but he failed to mention he was playing GWB. As the play started and we were introduced to the political figures that shaped world politics during 9/11, my brother rose to speak and a ridiculously frank Texan accent came pouring out. Being his brother and have listened to countless jokes and impressions from him all my life, I couldn’t tell if he was pulling it off. However I was very excited. As far back as I can remember, he is cast as the slovenly neurotic schlep that everyone falls for and I think this was his second political figure he’s ever played (he played an advisor in Frost/Nixon), certainly the most colourful/famous. The laughs he garnished certainly was indication the audience was buying it. The woman in front of me turned to her husband and made some remark, her finger stabbing at the stage at my brother. I think he did well.

In fact the entire cast did really well. The play pulls from actual quotes and situations and relives the insanity of a world wanting and resisting going to war after America’s greatest attack on it’s soil. There were curious dramatic tensions (a suggested budding romance between Colin Powell and Condoleezza Rice?) and fly-on-the-wall imaging of back room conversations that were interesting to see but would probably make a Right Winger stand up and yell “THAT NEVER HAPPENED!!”, however they never crossed the line into an overt Liberal love-orgy. I would hope that if it ever plays in the US that many people go see it in  “Those who forget the past are condemned to relive it” kind of way. But I think is pretty doubtful, unless Michael Moore produces it – SharkBoy’s comment after was “I doubt they could stand it”

The kick in the gut line says it all: “After 9/11 America became stupid”

PS: The whole reason I wrote this was to say I met my brother’s fiance. Hello Morwyn!!

Disney 2009 – Dining


img_0904I have nothing new to report about Disney, per se. Yes it’s still the pinnacle of customer service. Yes the rides were just as fun. Yes, Stacey was the first person you saw when you turned on the hotel TV. It was all the same yet the familiarity was like going to a friend’s house who has 1000% better home electronics than you do. 

Not much has changed since my last vacation there, except for a few tweaks (for the better) to their services and a couple new rides. I won’t repeat myself for the sake of old time readers. Know that while there wasn’t any bed-jumping videos of excitement, the emotion of being there was just as strong.

Collectively between three cameras (not including the Photopass service Disney provides), I estimate we took close to 2500 pictures. I’ll be posting some here but the brunt of them from my camera will be on Flickr for your perusal. Don’t expect captions for all!

Now, on to the subject at hand: Food!


Know that we had absolutely NO bad meals on any of the Disney properties (including third party chain eateries). That isn’t to say all our meals were perfect: when we discovered that Oh Boys! on Colonial Drive in Orlando had been closed for a while (update your website you dicks! That includes you, Google Earth!), we motored back to Downtown Disney and still managed to have a great meal – at twice the price, unfortunately. My only complaint is that all manner of food at Disney World is shockingly expensive. While we were eating in moderate to “classy” places like Coral Reef Restaurant at EPCOT (blackened catfish!) or The Crystal Palace (Character Breakfast with Eyore!) at Magic Kingdom, I still dreaded the bill at the end of the meal.

The only time I noticed a staff, err… Cast Member not entirely in tune with a high level of good service output was at the Beaches And Cream Ice Cream Parlour. See video below. I think this was her one thousand time serving up this kind of sundae just on this day, to screaming over-sugared children, made evident by the robotic delivery of the room-stopping announcement (but she does save herself at the end with the “young” comment, blessherheart):


The most surreal meal we had was at The Grand Floridian – Afternoon Tea in the Garden View Room. The room was Mary Poppins Perfect: vaulted ceilings, Victorian styling and proper china tea pots. No fart jokes here. I found the atmosphere a bit intimidating, like walking into a $100/plate restaurant wearing Old Navy. Actually, that’s exactly what I did. But the waitress never made me felt like I had. Her timing was infallible and her service top notch.

The other patrons made me think of bored, rich  housewives having to actually socially interact with their immaculately dressed children while the husbands were off avoiding their kids playing golf and the nanny had the day off. Oh no, no rides for these tykes! They had to enjoy liver sandwiches with no crusts and were ordered to sit on their hands until the meal was finished.

At least that’s what I imagined going on at the table beside us.


At one point Sharkboy decided to let loose with a bawdy, off colour joke and proceeded to laugh heartily. Suddenly he stops and says in his best educated voice:  “Pardon me. Ha. Ha. Ha.” We all snickered like kids in school.

Our last meal was a pizza on our hotel bed, tired out of our minds from 9 days of walking, riding, laughing and just having fun. It was the perfect last meal for all the sensory overloading.

Halloween 2008

Jedis By RodTO

Jedis By RodTO

Halloween on Church Street. You will never find a more retched hive of scum and villainy.

The evening started out good with a group of us getting together at Casa RoboShark, slapping on layers of makeup while we sucked back beers during rounds of Guitar Hero and Mario Kart Wii. It sounds very involved but it was pretty relaxed. I wound up doing Dollar Store cuts on a few guys but the wax wounds didn’t last too long after leaving the apartment… I blame sweat and not having a proper sealant to make it stick. That and they wrinkled their faces too much. NO LAUGHING!

Here’s where I apologize for not taking any pictures this year. My lightsabre for my Jedi costume was a two hander. RodTO (Photog 2) took some amazing shots, as usual. Go see them and praise him highly.

We left the house at 9 and got to the street in full swing. It was busy as usual. SharkBoy felt there were too many drunk Ryerson students, but I thought it was a typical Halloween night: packed, pictures everywhere. Our outfits weren’t as attention grabbing as last year’s Luchadores, but with the Force FX sabres, we were well lit and did get into some photos. Here’s where I mention that lucha masks were out in force this year. We’re trendsetters.

We met up with Da, the Xbox Boys, FrankenSteve (nice fairies!) and got to do one circuit of up and down the strip before going home. Some of the costumes were amazing, some were the usual “Throw on a boa and I’m done” kind of WTF kind of effort. In all, I would say that a lot more people are getting into the spirit of dressing up, even if it’s just a dollar store jumpsuit with a cheap plastic lead-based mask. I say “bravo” for trying!

The thing that did mar the evening for me: I verbally abused a drunk asshole in a rather (un)Jedi like manner. We were walking in the crowd and came upon a small pocket, empty of people and I had stopped to wait for the other guys to catch up. As I did, a drunk guy came pushing out of the crowd, past me, screaming like a 9 year old child. “No! NO!” he was hollering. Chasing him was another drunk partyer who was making noises like he was going to catch him. Upon seeing my lightsabre, he lunged at me and yelled he needed it to “get that faggot.”

“Uh no,” I said and turned slightly from him.

He drunkenly clawed at the toy. (okay, the $130 toy, none the less)

“Fuck off!” I said. I was shocked: I don’t say this lightly in public, to strangers. But his total disregard for my personal space and property was appalling.

“Oh chill,” he said and tried to go for it again.

“Fuck. Off.” I said, stronger. And the surreal part was that I had my hand out, pointing a finger at his face. Like the Force was going to save me.

Exit drunk queen, muttering something, trying to catch up to “that faggot”.

Gay Jedi

Gay Jedi

There were other extremely drunken exchanges that bewildered me, like the 60-some year old woman wordlessly trying to grab SharkBoy’s lightsabre by the tube and me yelling “Lady! YOU DON’T TOUCH A JEDI’S STICK!” (yeah I said “stick” but she muttered “dick” back). Or the three Ryerson tarts wanting to play with the sabres for themselves and when we refused, asked for a kiss. Wha?

I love Halloween, but I was kind of cheesed off by the overly rowdy drunks. We were out pretty late and the worst of it did happen well after 11pm so I shouldn’t be surprised, really.

Next year, more thoughtful planning, I should think. Something not so attention grabbing, yet attention grabbing.

Standing Up

Distractions, Improv/Comedy

Sunday night I was able to tick off a point on my Bucket List, if I actually had a list:

I finally did stand up comedy.

It wasn’t much more of a stretch from improv although, ironically, I found it much more terrifying to get up in front of an audience with a script than getting up there with no idea what’s coming next.

I got a call from my old teacher Gord asking if I wanted to do 5 minutes of stand up for a wedding benefit for two people from my old improv class. Why he thought I was doing stand up, I don’t know, but without thought, I said “Yes, let’s” (The old improv mantra).

For the past week I’d brainstormed some stuff about weddings and relationships and I had come up with some pretty shocking stuff (A dick! In my ear! I’m never going back to Bed, Bath and Beyond in San Francisco!) until I got an email on Thursday informing all the acts: “Keep it G-Rated, kids in the audience.”

Son of a bitch.

Friday/Saturday I had to salvage as much as I could and re-write. What follows is my kid-friendly (?) wedding-centric set, improvised rifts included (family should know that this is comedy, not truth. Anything I might say I do for laughs and appreciate you allowing me to make fun):

Vangie and Rain (the engaged)! Congratulations! You two aregoing to have so much fun!

(less sincere) So much fun.

Rain & Vangie came to my gay wedding two years ago. Yah, big gay wedding. Great day, I had no regrets on the day, except for the drag queen not being able to perform ’cause she caught fire but that’s another story all together.

Gay marriages are great-

(Two chaps hoot and clap)

My gays! Married? No? When?

Like I said, gay marriages are the best. Straight guys hear me out! No really. Okay there’s an aspect you might gag on, but the best part about marrying a guy is that… Well. You married a guy!

Your sock are all over the living room;

You can equally hate your in-laws (baby doll voice) Christmas is ruined!;

And the toilet seat is in the right position most of the time: up.

That was cliché and I apologize.

The thing about marriage is that it’s the same dynamic no matter what the set up: gay, straight, farmer/goat common law… The same. They’re just re-wired differently for each.

Example: I married a fairly masculine man. He’s no Richard Simmons. Beard, girth, great guy. But yet, as macho he is, we can’t go to a tropical hotel or a camp ground or a cottage without me entering into the bathroom doing reconnaissance with one shoe in my hand. I’m the spider-killer.

And I hate those buggers too.

I’m the slob in our relationship. I mean I pull my weight (wave at gut) but I’m a guy. I get distracted. One moment I’m elbow deep in the toilet, scrubbing away and BAM suddenly I’m playing XBox. The husband walks by the TV room, sees me and says “What the hell are you doing?!” (Baby doll voice) I don’t know how it happened.

After two years we’re still developing these dynamics. Just recently we got a bigger place and I was able to pull my stuff out of storage. Let me tell you that unpacking your stuff in front of each other is exactly like undressing in front of each other for the first time. With the lights on. You really do bare your soul because you’re showing an aspect of your personality.

Rain, I am sure you experienced this, being a sci fi geek. When I was unpacking, I pulled out the 12″ Star Wars Boba Fett action figure and was met with:




Siiiiiiggh” (looking around room)

See, in a gay relationship, since we both can decorate, the one who actually decorates is the one who can sigh harder.

And as you repack your action figure, you think to yourself “Welcome to a lifetime of compromise.”

But it’s worth it.

You’re going to experience something not a lot of people get to do. You have another person’s promise of love, respect and commitment. You have their promise that if you say the stupidest thing at a party, you’ll still have someone to go home with.


And you get to wake up every morning and next to you is someone you know will have your back when things go bad.

And that’s the best feeling in the world.

And so is rolling over and farting on them.

Thank you Rain and Vangie for inviting me tonight and I wish you all the best!

Sound it Out

Personal Bits

Just in from an ultrasound, kiddies! Apparently my last blood test suggested an “enlarged liver” so my Doc, ever cautious, ordered me to the lab.

Upon entering the lab at St George’s Medical Arts Building, I had to wait until the receptionist had finished with her conversation to a friend on her cell. Normally I would have been upset with a wait like this but her conversation (which she meant for me to hear) was one of desperation. She was trying to find a home for a border collie that had been abused by her neighbours. She asked me instantly if I wanted him. I don’t and she tells me of the struggle this dog has had. She seems like a caring sort, confirmed when she confesses to having 4 cats and one dog already.

I was ushered into the changing cubicles where surprise sooprize, I had the same technician doing my scan as the last time I was there a few years back for a lump. In my boob. (Her words. Slowly. Hushed. Conspiratory: “Is the lump. In you boob…gone?”) So instantly she was friendly and chatty, taking a moment to laugh at the big BUTCH pin on my knapsack. “Nothing but underwear, socks and shoes. Put this robe on backwards and this one on forwards. I don’t want you wandering the hall bare butt.” I remember how much I liked her the first time.

Into the scanning suite. Up goes the gown and a sheet of paper towel is tucked into and draped over my underwear. I lie down and she grabs the KY in squeezy bottle.

“Do you have BBQ flavour?” I ask as she covers my hairy chest and belly with the thankfully warm lube.

“HA! There’s a first,” she comments.

She can’t stop asking about my lump she looked at two years ago. She meekly raises her ultrasound wand and ask “Can I look at your… boob… with my… wand?” I let her. All clear. She’s happy.

She slips her wand over my right side. I start to laugh. She starts to laugh. “Sorry. It always kills me when big biker dudes like yourself giggle when I touch them. Can you take out your belly ring?”

In walks the Dog Savior receptionist with the Wand Waving Tech’s next appointment file, resulting in joking banter about hiding my underwear with the paper towel. “What’s he got under there?” The Dog Savior asks, pointing at my Bounty covered BVDs. These two have sussed me out in seconds.

“A cat,” I say. First thing into my head since she’s a dog lover.

“I think we’re the ones with cats,” says the Wand Waver.

Hilarity ensues.

The Wand Waver digs her sensor into my abdomen and makes clucking sounds. “Can’t you find it?” I ask.

I get a playful dirty look. “Oh, I’ll find it,” she says.

After a time she tells me that I have a “horseshoe kidney”, a conjoined kidney, which is rare but not surprising. She’s snapping pictures of my innards all this time and we move on to the liver, the star of the show. I ask for a nice 8×10 colour or at least wallet sized photos.

“Now see, you were original before with the BBQ,” she says.