Friday, July 29, 2005
The cable guy came by last Saturday morning at 9:15am. I requested a call in advance as the appointment was from 8-11am, and my door buzzer doesn't work due to the install of Rogers Digital Phone Service (DPS). Four technicians came for that one on 3 separate occassions to try to repair it...unsuccessfully. So for about 3 weeks my buzzer hasn't worked. Anyhow, RB and I are still half asleep, cuddling, when we hear a knock at the door. I rouse myself out of bed and slip on a pair of pants and a shirt, and shut the bedroom door behind me. I go open the door and this is what happens:
Me: Oh hey. I thought I asked you guys to call me.
CG: Sorry man, forgot my cell at home. (grins) You just wake up?
Me: Yeah, just a little groggy.
CG: (wider grin) Heh heh! Rough night eh? (and kinda nudges me with his elbow giving the wink wink)
Me: Um, yeah. Not too bad.
CG: No worries, I'll be quick. So where you want the boxes.
Me: One here and the other in the bedroom.
I point to the bedroom, and just as I do so, RB opens the door and the 2 look at each other. Cable Guys' mouth drops to the floor and almost drops the Digital box. RB looks at him and says "Morning". From this point on, the guy barely could form a sentence and left the boxes on the floor and left. RB and I laughed at his ignorance.
Well, it seems that in his haste to get out of our Humble Homsexual Home, he forgot to send my work order in for completion. My PVR suddenly stopped working last night so I called Cable Service. After going through the VERY annoying automated speech system (Dantallion had a similar experience with Bell), I finally got the guy on the phone.
John: Thank you for calling Rogers Cable, my name is John. How can I help you?
Me: Hi John. My PVR is acting up. It was working fine prior to today. I seem to get a few channels, but everything other channel indicates I am 'unauthorized'.
John: I'm sorry to hear that. We can fix that for you no problem. I just need a few details. Can I get you phone number, address, and postal code.
Me: (I give him the required info)
John: Well I see from here that you have a digital box. Is that correct?
Me: Yes. I had a Digital box and a PVR delivered last Saturday at 9:15am.
John: I don't see that you ordered a PVR. Where did you pick it up, and when?
Me: Ummm, I just said that they were delivered to me last Saturday at 9:15am.
John: No. I don't see that. Are you sure someone didn't pick it up?
Me: John, I think I am pretty sure about that, seeing that it was delivered to my condo by the Cable Guy at 9:15am..
John: Well, I'll need to look into this. Can yuo hold please?
John: (Puts me on hold for a minute & returns) Oh yes, it now says you have 2 digital boxes. What seems to be the problem?
Me: They are not 2 digital boxes. I have 1 digital box in my bedroom which works fine. I also have a PVR that is in my Living space that does not work. As mentioned, I get a few channels and the others say 'unauthorized'.
John: I see. I am sorry to hear that. Is the Digital Box working normally?
Me: Yes, as mentioned, it works fine.
John: And I'm sorry, but were these 2 boxes working when they were installed?
Me: (sigh) Yes John, they were.
John: I'm looking at your account, adn it appears that it has not been fullfilled.
Me: Sorry, what has not been fullfilled?
John: Your work order, Sir.
Me: Well, can you rectify this and fullfill this?
John: Yes, I can. However, before I transfer you, is there anything else I can assist you with?
Me: Transfer me to where?
John: Oh sorry. It's just this is not something I can assist you with, so I will have to connect you to Repair.
Me: I thought you said you could fix this?
John: No Sir, I cannot, onl;y repair can assist you with this.
Me: (sigh) fine. go ahead.
John: Oh, but is there anything else I can assist you with before I transfer you?
Me: Not unless you can fix my PVR, John.
John: Um, no sir, I cannot.
Me: Well then, I guess you can transfer me.
I then get another John in Repair who tries for 10 minutes to fix my issue - fails miserably, then decides he needs to transfer me to another Fullfillment where I was supposed to have been transferred. I then get Network Support Group East (NSG-East) servicing Quebec and Atlantic Canada, en Francais, and am told they cannot assist me because I have the wrong region and the wrong department.
I hang up and then have to go through it all again.
I did finally get it working, after 4 calls and 1 1/2 hours on the phone.
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
Never in my life: Have I ever said never.
High school was: an all boys Roman Catholic Jesuit school, called Brebeuf College. I was a dorky knob, with absolutely no suave, sex appeal and even less coordination. Didn't play many sports and somehow survived the antics of hyper, testosterone filled boys.
I will never forget the moment: There are a lot of these...but, I guess the one that stands out is when I began to be true to myself.
I once met: I haven't met anyone, nor do I particularly care. I am not easily star struck.
There is this girl I know: whose surname is Cox, and maiden name is Lovesmore. She is a raging Lesbian.
Once at a bar: A guy came up to me and said I had such beautiful yellow skin. Then asked what my name was. When I told him, he said "Don't you have an Oriental name?" You can read about that wonderful experience here.
Last night I watched: My new fish and Formula 1 Racing with RB.
If only I had: hmmm....No regrets. I am who I am, because of my choices, good or bad.
Next time I go to church: I am going to say out loud to all the sheep and clergy, that "All homosexuals are going to hell, and we should also stone all the adulterous women out there, and that we should be allowed to have incestuous sex with our childrren like Lot and his daughters. Once we do all that, we should then carry-out religous war on all people who are not Christian"
When I turn my head to the left: I see my co-workers cubicle.
When I turn my head to the right:I see my dogs picture.
You know I'm lying when: you won't.
If I were a character written by Shakespeare: I would be Lady Macbeth. "Out damn spot, out!" (of course, I'd be looking at the carpet)
By this time next year: It will be July 27, 2006.
A better name for me would be: I like my name, thanks. But you are welcome to use variations of it as long as it is not "Al".
If I ever go back to school: It would be for something I enjoy, arts related, or gardening or cooking.
You know I like you if: I am listening and laughing and touching your arm or shoulder.
If I won an award: It would be the Darwin Award
Darwin, Mozart, Slim Pickens, and Geraldine Ferraro are: I know the first 2.
Take my advice: Never let anyone put you down. Stand up for yourslef and be strong. Listen to others and feel free to debate, but never think you're opinion is the only and correct one, that's arrogant.
My ideal breakfast is: eggs, bacon, sausage. Breakfast is my favourite meal.
If you visit my hometown: Tell me about it. I left when I was 9 months old.
If you stay overnight in my house: The dog will whine and be your best friend and I will serve you food and wine and make you as comfy as possible.
I'd stop my wedding to: ask what his name is.
This world could do without: hate, poverty, war, mullets & camel toes.
I'd rather: be at home or on a beach.
My favorite blonde is: Amsterdam
Paperclips are: clips for paper. Also great to be used with elastic bands as a weapon.
If I do anything well: It means I was actually interested or paying attention.
and by the way: I want to rip out my carpet and renovate.
Monday, July 25, 2005
It's a much needed rainy day in Toronto. The nasty crap on the streets can finally be washed away, and hopefully some fresh air will come bathe the city (One can only dream and hope right?). Last evening I went to China Town with RB to get fresh groceries and also stopped by the Pet & Aquarium Store to look around.
Hmmm, that sentence really shouldn't go there....Seems to make a funny assumption, and I don't eat dog or cat or goldfish...Well, only on high holidays.
Anyhow, we stopped by to pick up some new fish to stock my tank at home, which has lain empty for over a month now since my last fishy funeral. RB purchased them as a present for me, which was incredibly sweet. I, in turn purchased dumplings and groceries and made him a dumpling feast, then made bbq chicken for lunch today. RB always finds going to chinatown, like a trip to another world, and in many ways it is. The fish markets and butchers are quite different from your garden variety Dominions store, and there are little old ladies selling their wares and veggies on the corner (illegally). When the police come, they pick up their produce and try to hobble away (unsuccessfully).
My new fish in my old tank. Kalyx is looking at them below wondering what they are. She rarely ever notices such things, but these buggers dart about quickly and have obviously peeked her short attention span. I 'll have more pics of them up and close tonight (swordtail fish, bottom feeder, and some other little buggers).
This is Bubbles, my Beta fish whom I have had for 6 months now, thank you very much! (Not all my original fish are dead!)
Here's the list;
- Copy this entire list into your blog/journal.
- Bold everything about you that is true.
- Leave plain everything that is false about you.
- Put an asterisk (*) at the end of false statements you would like to be true.
I have blindfolded someone else during sex.
I have had sex while watching porn.
I sleep better after sex.
There are some nights I cannot sleep without sex or masturbating.
I masturbate more than once per day.
The bed is NOT my most favorite place to have sex.
I am turned on knowing someone is watching me masturbate.
I enjoy watching others having sex or being watched during sex.
I will have sex with someone I just met if they turn me on.
I have had sex with two different individuals (at seperate times) during the course of one day.
I have been tied up during sex.
I have had sex with someone who was tied up.
I have dripped wax onto a lover's body.
I have had a lover drop wax on my body.
I have a foot/sock/shoe fetish.
I have a leather fetish.
I have a tickle fetish.
Watching someone urinate (or being watched while urinating) is a turn-on.
I have had sex in a vehicle.
I have had sex while driving a vehicle.
I have been to a sex club or bathhouse.
I like being choked during sex.
My lovers would describe me as kinky.
I shave (or trim) the hair on or around my genitals.
The smell of my lover's sweat turns me on.
I have erotic art on display somewhere in my residence.
Dirty talk during sex turns me on.
I enjoy pornographic magazines.
I have a collection of porno movies.
Erotic toys are a regular part of my budget.
I have clicked on porn links in my email.
I regularly look at porn sites on the internet.
Much of what I know about sex comes from porn.
Interracial sex turns me on.
I would participate in sex research if given the opportunity.
My current lover does not sufficiently meet my sexual needs.
I have had sex at my place of employment.*
I am often disappointed in my sexual relationships.
Some people might describe me as a nymphomaniac.
I am difficult to live with if I'm not having sex on a regular basis.
I sleep better with someone snuggled up next to me.
I have had sex under water.
I have had sex outdoors.
I have had sex in a public place or where I might have been discovered.
I have had sex in a bathroom stall.
I have had sex in the snow.*
I am or have been in a polyamorous relationship.
I have participated in three-ways or orgies.
I have to have music playing during sex.
I have flashed strangers.
I have given sex as a gift.
I have set up a three-way for my lover.(*?)
I stopped during this list to have sex.
All day I think about sex.
Friday, July 22, 2005
Well, it really wasn’t like that, but there were some major cultural things that made us stand out in the community.
My best friend was this sweet beautiful Czech/German girl whom I met on the monkey bars in the park across the street. I was 3 and she was 4. She was a Tom-boy and I was a blossoming faggot. We were best friends for many years, and hung out all the time. This post isn’t about her, but her family welcomed me into their home and showed me what White folk did on a daily basis, and if not for them, I would likely be blowing my nose on a sidewalk these days, by plugging one nostril and blowing hard through the other.
In my home, the mix of cultural and ethnic backgrounds was fairly unique. My dad was born in
The food in our home was always Fusion. Bullocks to those new-wave fusion chefs who think they were so inventive and creative in culinary design - we were doing it back in the 70’s. Everything we ate, had an Asian or Indian flair to it. Neighbourhood BBQ’s were always interesting, because we would have Tandoori chicken or spicy BBQ chicken wings – way before wings were considered normal to eat.
The differences certainly made life interesting. We never had desserts after dinner. Fruits were dessert, and the occassonal bag of chips or jello were a treat. So, when I went over to my friends place across the street and looked in her mothers’ cupboards, I was dumbfounded to see things like fruit roll-ups, beef jerky, candies, cookies, Kraft Dinner, Pogo sticks etc. In contrast, our cupboards were stocked to the rafters with dried fish, dried squid, salty preserved prunes, Thousand year old duck eggs, and Chinese preserved sausages.
When we had our White Canadian friends over, we didn’t have much choice in what we could offer. Honestly, pickled fish, sea cucumber or duck eggs on toast aren't something your average White kid is gonna want to chow down on, so over the years Mum began to introduce new and fascinating things into our pantry that were a little more appetizing for the neighbourhood kids. Popsicles , pop and Premium crackers with cheese or peanut butter became the staple around our home.
Asian parents really have no qualms about disciplining their kids. This may seem like an over-generalisation, but in Asian culture, respect, honour, family and obediency are tantamount. If one fails any of these, their ass is grass. Simple as that. When I got in trouble, I knew what was coming. I simply wasn't intelligent enough to avoid it. And if I had the gall to speak up and say something back, it was like watching a Phoenix rise from the ashes. My fathers eyes would slant and his face would turn a beet red. You just either ran and screamed like a girl, or you just stood there and took the fury that you brought upon yourself.
When I think about it now, globalization and multiculturalism have really made some major strides. Growing up in the 70's as a Chinese kid was pretty cool, because you were the first real wave of new Asian immigrants in a long time. It was the beginning of multiculturalism and of acceptance, and though there were many many episodes where I wanted to be invisible, and not stand out, I also am thankful for what it has taught me. I was experiencing the world as it changed, as it accepted people. My perspective and identity have been shaped by each of those experiences, be they good or bad. I have ingrained in me a sense of belonging and diversity that far exceeds simply being Asian, gay, Mandarin, Shanghainese, Hakka or Indian. I am all of these things, proudly wrapped in one phrase...
I am Canadian
Thursday, July 21, 2005
I walk through this city and see broken templates of future adults. Broken people, whose lives are spread out on benches, doorways or street corners. I wonder what it is exactly that has put them here on these streets. Some show burden on their dirty faces, some move with a disconnected energy brought on by meth abuse. The visual effects are dizzying as you see them move, arms swinging exagerratedly, scratching at their crystalised skin. Bodies taut and toned, but suffering to the very core.
It’s and the Chinese men and women are exercising in the park. They have just thrown bread for the pigeons who waddle and peck hungrily at the ground. A few metres away, a shirtless man of about 17 is also searching the ground, moving with a disjointed desperation, until he finds a half smoked cigarrette. He pockets it, and continues his picking. I walk by him and he pays little attention to me but to move aside. He glances up at me briefly and I look directly at him. The body is dirty with earth and the arms have scratches and broken vessels. He looks at me, but the look is hollow and despite the heat, I feel a shiver run through my body. The emptiness in his eyes is like a black hole, and I have to turn away. I am afraid that I will get pulled in. Then I think, maybe he turned away because he couldn’t bear to look at me.
Funny, how humbling a look can be.
I walk away, but my heart already hurts for I too have lost a friend to the streets.
I wonder where his parents are, what they are thinking. Does he think of them, or just the cigarrette in his pocket.
Friday, July 15, 2005
When I used to walk to and from school, I would count how many steps I took on each square block of pavement so that the next would also receive the same treatment. If I started with my right foot on the first block and ended on my left foot, the next square block would mean I would have to start with my left foot, and end with my right. If I went to school on the East side of the street, it meant I had to go home on the West side of the street. The next day I would have to reverse it.
Looking back on all this, one might think it were a bit Obsessive compulsive, and I wouldn't blame them. I often find myself repeating things over and over again, not even realising I have been doing it. It seems to occupy my mind while I mentally mull over things, sort of like elevator music while grocery shopping. I've grown used to it and I've also toned it down. No longer do I count my steps and the amount of times I bite my food on my left, or right side.
All of this I believe might have some bearing on why I am always able to argue and see both sides to an issue. I find it particularly frustrating dealing with bull-headed individuals who aren't willing to step out of their sheltered coccoon to discuss and converse about ideas, be they in agreement or not. One can never agree with everything another person says - that's absurd. I recently told Nomi that as friends we can't just blindly agree with one another because we think we have to. As good friends we have to be willing to say the truth, and in turn be willing to hear the truth. That's what friends are for. That is what friends are.
The frustration wasn't any different then my childhood OCD complex. If I was somehow prevented from completing my "equalizing" exercises (so I call them now), I would fret and freak about not having done things properly. If I was walking home with a school friend who insisted on walking on the West side, when everyone knew that we had to walk on the East side, I would plot revenge on my fellow walker for thwarting my attempts at satisfying my mania.
It wasn't until I was older that I began to realise how truly odd I was. Well, "realisation" is not so much the word as "obvious". It comes fast when kids call you "freak" or "loser" all the time. I wasn't exactly a kid that attracted the right kind of attention. I was always in trouble, and considered a bit of a scholastic moron. Grades were not my forte and math was even worse and I have the strong suspicion that I had Attention Deficit Disorder (ADD). All of these characteristics are still there, but rather than run from them, I suppose I embrace it now. When you're a lonely kid on the outside, you can either choose to completely turn inward, or you try harder to succeed and thrive.
Mum and Dad actually thought I was retarded and were scared to have another kid. They love to regale their friends and family with the story of how as a child I would bang my head quite violently on the bed or pillow to go to sleep. The story goes that when they came to Canada and visited my A-po (grandmother) they put me to bed in my crib. I immediately started to bang my soft little head on the pillow to the horror of my grandmother, who in turn also thought I was retarded. They left the room and came back 10 minutes later to check up on me and found the crib had moved across the wooden floor from one wall to the other.
This odd behaviour developed even further as I grew. I could never sit still, never focus, and would lie about just about anything. As mentioned before, I have always had a salt craving, and love chips. My mum does as well, and she would often stock her cupboard with bags of chips. I would come home from school, tear a bag open and eat it, then stop in horror at what I had done. In desperation, I came up with the brilliant idea to take a pair of scissors and chew the bag up, later claiming mice were in the house and had gotten into the bag. My poor parents actually entertained this and went out and bought mouse traps filled with peanut butter. When we didn't catch anything, I told them it was because they didn't put chips in the trap.
This brilliance of mine got me in more trouble than I'd like to say, like my Report card episode, which I wrote about before (re-excerpted below)
I looked upon my handy work and thought how brilliant I truly was, and how my teacher was more of an idiot for failing to see my hidden genius. I thought the mark of an intelligent man was in how they covered up a major fuck up. Of course, my parents weren’t stupid. They knew something was up, upon opening an already opened report card to see half the report card covered in crackling lumpy liquid paper. It might have worked a little better had I given the liquid paper time to dry, instead of trying to score the letter into the moist liquid paper like a kid carving his name in wet cement. Needless-to-say, the whole plot blew up in my face.
Thursday, July 14, 2005
...Tagged by Sister Staceypatrick.
10 years ago:I was still in University studying Fine Arts Theory and Psychology, but spending more time in the pubs. I was living in Richmond Hill at the time, with a 2-3 hour commute to school or downtown. I was 6'1, and weighed 145 pounds wet.
5 years ago: I was a newbie working for the Wireless telecom company I am at now. I was in the process of making my first move away from home, to live with my best friend AM (aka. Monkey). I was a little too heavy into the party scene, and JLo's song "Waiting for Tonight" was all over the charts. I was 6'1 and weighed 148 pounds wet.
1 year ago: A lot had happened since the move to Toronto. 1 Year ago, I was living at my condo (2 years by then), and was figuring bits and pieces about my life and gluing them together. I was in a major spiritual, mental and emotional transition. I had been blogging since December 30th, 2003. I had just gotten back from China in mid June, and it had begun to change my outlook on life. I was also having major stomach gas issues, not that any of y'all needed to know that. I was 6'1 and weighed 148 pounds wet
Yesterday: I finished a rather busy but productive day at work, and went home to find RB busy playing with himself. I ignored him of course and decided to cook roast chicken and steamed broccoli, with rice. RB of course wanted me to cook a salmon recipe that I told him about, so I sent him off to go get 1 large salmon filet with skin, which of course 30 mins later he returns with 2 small filets with no skin, and 2 filet mignon steaks. Needless to say, we had a large dinner, much to his delight. We then watched Kill Bill2, and went to bed. Also noticed that the refurbishment of the Condo corridors is going well. Exciting, I know. I am stll 6'1 and have no idea how much I weigh.
Today: An aberration. I woke up pawing RB. Came to work, made fun of RB and wrote another post regarding a Police Brutality with 51 Division ona freinds bar/restaurant establishment. Please read it below...it made me angry as hell. It is still 11:14 am. I checked, and I am 6'1 and weigh 154 pounds with underwear on.
Tomorrow: I may go see parents, but want to also visit friends P&G, and maybe go swimming.
5 snacks I enjoy: Chips, snow peas, edamame beans (Soya beans), pickles, peanut butter (straight outta the bottle)
5 bands/singers that I know the lyrics of MOST of their songs: Depeche Mode, Pet Shop Boys, The Cure, Sarah Maclachlan (you know which era I gre up in, right?)
5 things I would do with $100,000,000: Pay off mortgage for parents, brother, and myself. Help out family a bit. Take a vacation and bring friends along to some nice hot private island. Buy property and build my dream home, and open my own business and go to school. Start up a fund for inner city kids scholarships, and with all that money donate to a few of my fave causes.
5 locations I'd like to run away to: Dunno about runaway, but it would have to be close to nature with water, mountain and sky: Carribbean, Australia, New Zealand, Morocco, Spain.
5 bad habits I have: I am terribly forgetful, never remember names/faces, plan on doing big reno projects but never start, chew my nails, appear a little too dominant or pushy at times.
5 things I like doing: cooking, entertaining, writing, having interesting conversations, relaxing and being introspective.
5 things I would never wear: over-sized clothing (a la hip-hop, rap), things with large labels, gold, stilhettoes
5 TV shows I like: Discovery channel things, Rough Cuts (CBC), documentaries, This Hour has 22 minutes, ick Mercer's Monday Report, that's about it.
5 movies I like: The Breakfast Club, Finding Neverland, Joy Luck Club, Memento, Le Violin Rouge.
5 famous people I'd like to meet: Kurt Vonnegut, Oprah, Ellen Degeneres, Belinda Stronach, the devil.
5 biggest joys at the moment: RB (Rib Breaker), my friends, my new found honesty in life, health, sun.
5 favorite toys: RB (Rib Breaker), camera, blackberry, piano, cookware set.
Tagging: Hasn't everyone already been tagged?
This is an open letter from Amir at Bar Babylon outlining his side of events that transpired there last week. (I've grabbed it off of the Tribe message Board).
The whole incident leaves a bad taste in one's mouth. I hope that amir and his family are OK and that things work out soon (and in their favour)
to whom it may concern;
my name is amir ebrahimnia. i am the owner of babylon martini & musique boutique at 553 church street in downtown toronto. we are a well-known, award winning establishment with an international reputation as one of the finest martini bars in north america.
on saturday june 25th of 2005 my family and i were brutally assaulted and humilliated by a handful of city public and peace officers.
my intent with the following story is to get the truth to my patrons and everyone who has shown such support for us. i need to set the record straight. i think it is important for the truth to be told.
here is my full statement on the events leading to my arrest on saturday, june 25th, 2005.
i was at work, behind the third floor bar, when approached by a staff member and told of a confrontation on the first floor. i quickly left my post and ran downstairs to find my father surrounded by 6 or 7 plain-clothed gentlemen and and a woman. the gentlemen were all large, over 6 ft. tall and were, on average, all 300 lbs. each. the woman was about 5'4", small figure, short dark hair. as i approached the gathering and quickly realized my father was being ridiculed and insulted for his accent.
there were two men hassling him and arguing with him, while the others approached me. thats when the argument started. they asked me to close the bar; i asked them why. they stated i was over-crowded. i argued with them on the facts and they did not want to accept my concerns. i agreed to close the bar. they asked me to start up on the 3rd floor and move it down.
i went to the 3rd floor, turned on the lights from behind the bar, i then approached the dj booth and cut the music. i then had to tell my clientele why they were being asked to leave.
i told them, how i had been in business for 11 years. i told them how 9 out of those 11 years we had never had a problem such as the one right now. and i told them this would probably be the last time my business would be open. and with everything happening right now, there would be no way i could afford to open up again. they had destroyed us.
the customers listened and we shook hands. good-byes were said and the room was cleared. i then continued to the second floor where i did the exact same thing. lights, music, goodbyes.
as i was finishing up with the second floor, there were 5 of the mentioned gentlemen observing my actions to inform my costumers of what was actually happening. as i walked by them to head for first floor, one of the officers elbowed me. they started arguing with me again. one of them tried to tell me what a fool i was making of myself, while another gentleman pretended not to understand my accent. in reality, i don't really have an accent – as anyone who knows me is aware. my parents do. another gentleman called me an idiot several times and said how i wouldn't be in this situation if i wasn't an idiot. the back-and-forth insults continued. one officer started pushing me. i told him not to touch me, he asked what i would do about it? another officer continued to call me an idiot as another shoved me. my mother (60 years of age) started to scream "why? "why are you doing this to us??" they told her to shut up as they continued to push and insult me. she came forward to help me and they grabbed her and man-handled her. she fell ill to the ground; i panicked and asked everyone to calm down.
they wouldn't back up.
they reached for my mom, not to help her but to hold her out of the way. my father came up and joined the confrontation.
up until this point, there were no physical contact between any of us and the officers. as a matter of fact, up until this point, no badge was shown by the ladies and gentlemen in question. i made them aware of this fact at this point. that’s when one officer pulled out his badge as he started laughing; "are you happy now? boy, now you’re really fucked"
another officer turned to me and said; " i will make it my life-long hard-on to fuck you, my friend," as he chuckled and turned around.
we took my mother downstairs to the first floor and laid her down on the couch. she was having difficulty breathing. i approached two officers by the front door and asked them for help, and to call 911. one chuckled, while the other one gave me a look as if i wasn't speaking her language, and said; " you have a telephone. you dial 911"
i ran behind the bar and dialed 911. i spoke to the 911 operator, gave my name & address and was explaining her condition - when again, the officers entered the property to my twelve o’clock and tried to force my parents out of our property. they went for my mother and that’s when i threw a martini shaker at the wall to my three o’clock, yelling at them to leave us alone. by this point, the bar had been cleared of all customers. there was only myself, my mother, father and 3 bartenders. there was absolutely no reason for them to still be on my property. the bar was shut down. they were not helping an emergency. they were not serving or protecting anyone.
this was their time for sweet payback. all the back-and-forth name-calling upstairs and making them feel small in front of customers. along with the obvious knowledge of dealing with minorities. these officers felt it would be appropriate to attack us.
i was brutally attacked by what seemed to be all of them. they ran behind the bar where i was still on the phone with 911, and as i screamed for help the phone dropped and i was pummelled to the ground. i was continuously punched in the face, kicked in the ribs, and twisted. i thought at first that they wanted to arrest me, so i loosened my arm for them to handcuff.
instead, my arms were stretched out so i would be out of fetal position while i was viciously assaulted. one officer grabbed me by the hair and started smashing my head on the tile floor while another officer was smashing my neck, face, shoulders, and knees with his boot, pounding it down on my face, neck and shoulder.
they said things like," you had to be a fucking smartass didn't you." , "we're so gonna fuck you up. oh boy, your gonna wish you were dead when we're through with you."
they kept on saying stop resisting arrest while i wasn't resisting arrest. when i realized they wanted more than to arrest me, is when i tightened up. i really didn't know what to do anymore. i thought somebody was going to die - either my mother on the couch or me getting pummeled by 8 huge 300lbs gorillas who were very much enjoying the festivities. i could feel them enjoying it. i could hear what they were saying. and yes, i do speak & feel in english.
i repeatedly asked them to stop. i told them i wasn't resisting. “please don't hurt me.” i begged them to stop, but they all wanted to get a punch or a kick in.
finally, when it ended, they hand-cuffed me and took me out to the police car waiting outside.
the police car took me off, pulled over on gloucester street, stopped the vehicle and read me my rights. they asked me if i understood; i said yes.
i asked the officers to loosen my cuffs because they were on too tight and were cutting my circulation, they told me the cuffs would come off when we got to the station. we got to the 51 division police station and had to sit and wait for a good 30 minutes for the door to open so the police car could enter the garage bay. the officers driving the vehicle felt sorry for me and loosened the cuffs. to the officers’ observation, my hands were white, cold and clammy.
i entered the station, where i was taken to a room and strip-searched. they made me take off my clothes and turn everything inside out. i was then asked to lift my scrotum and then my leg.
all dressed up again, i was taken to an interview room/cell. i could feel the air conditioner was turned up. i can only assume on purpose.
after 2 hours in holding, i was visited by one of the officers who had assaulted me earlier. he read the charges against me:
1 count; obstruct peace officer C.C. 129(a)
1 count; assault with weapon C.C. 267(a)
1 count; resisting or obstructing public or peace officer C.C. 129(a)
i was asked if i understood. i said yes. he told me i had to appear for finger-printing and picture-taking and to hear the court date.
i was asked to sign several papers. one of which was included that i had refused to make my phone call. being that it wasn't true, i refused to sign this particular form. they did not seem to mind. they had their fun already. it was all back to procedure again for our officers of peace.
i was free to go.
though severely injured, i did not seem to feel the pain till the next day. i went to my parents’ house to check up on my mother. she was still in shock, kept crying and screaming. my father was in no better shape but we were being strong to make sure she's ok. my mother wouldn't say anything. she just kept shaking and crying and cursing this country to hell.
neither one of us has slept in 4 days. we close our eyes and see saturday night. i find myself fighting in bed. cursing and swearing at my imaginary 51 div. officers. i am bruised from head to toe, but that will heal.
what will not heal is being humiliated. being insulted and beaten by the men who patrol not only my place of work, but also my neighborhood of residence.
my father, who is a very well-known and well-respected iranian businessman being treated like a monkey.
one officer in question, the female officer with the short dark hair to be exact, would tell him to stand aside and point to a specific spot for him to stand. he would do so. she then told him not there. there. as they pointed to across the room. he'd go stand there. they'd again point in the opposite direction of the room. not there! here! several times until finally they kicked him in the ass and tossed him out of our own property. they chuckled. they made fun of him. they ridiculed us.
when they got us all out of the property, they took all the bottled liquor and dumped all the bottled beer from the fridges down the sink. they left the fridge doors open . to make sure the fridge compressors would burn out. tables and chairs thrown around. glasses broken on purpose. they ransacked the bar completely making sure it would be impossible to open up. ever.
we have been made examples of. they wanted to show what they could do, the power they hold, and they assumed there would be nothing we could do about it.
the next day, (pride sunday), the pain started to kick in and the swelling became obvious. i was at home, on alexander street, as i found myself having difficulty breathing.
i dialed 911 at noon. the 911 operator asked me the regular questions, address, what was wrong, and how did it happen. i answered her questions and she informed me the ambulance would be here shortly and for me to leave my door open.
by this point i couldn't walk. both my legs and ankles were trampled. nothing broken. just a lot of excruciating pain. my head injuries were worsening, i was nauseous and the vision in my right eye was blurry. going in and out of consciousness. my left shoulder felt dislocated and my right elbow wasn't in much better shape.
i waited and waited for hours. no ambulance. at 2:30pm i received a phone call from a sargeant from 51 division asking me if i called for an ambulance. i told them i had called 911 2 hours ago. she informed me an ambulance could not be sent to me unless accompanied by a 51 division officer escort. i asked her why, she stated because of the nature of my injuries. i told her i needed an ambulance and under the circumstances, i did not want the presence of a 51 division officer. she told me, "no ambulance then?"
i insisted i needed medical help. they refused to send an ambulance with out an officer. yet they wouldn't say they are refusing me. just that it would have to be with an officer. i asked for 52 division; they refused. it had to be 51 division.
i turned her down.
again, i called 911 for the second time at 3:00pm. they sounded scared to send an unaccompanied paramedic team to my location. i had been charged with assaulting a police officer. i was considered dangerous. i asked them several times; "are you refusing me medical attention?" they said no. again i asked for an ambulance but without saying no, again they gave me the run around. "not without a police officer." or "so do you want an ambulance?" over and over again...
"do you want an ambulance?"
"yes i do. but i don't want a 51 div. officer! bring the swat team for all i care! i don't want 51 div. anywhere near me! i want an ambulance!"
"not without 51 div. officer" ; "do you want an ambulance?"
the broken record continued. i dialed 911 five times on sunday, and finally i agreed to the 51 division patrol to accompany the paramedics.
the ambulance arrived at 7:30 pm. there were no officers.
i was taken to st. michaels hospital and examined. nothing broken. lots of shock to my body. visible bruises to my face, ankles, knees, ribs, elbows and shoulder. i had my x-rays taken. the doctor suggested i go right away to the police station and report the assault. he spoke to someone at 52 division and they were expecting me with a forensics officer to photograph the injuries.
i am very happy to say that the way i was treated at 52 division was the difference of night and day from their counterpart peace officers at 51 division. they felt bad for what had happened. the forensics officer whom examined me, felt so bad he apologized for the wrong some police do. he has been a cop for over 25 years and it made him sick to see this kind of behavior. he even joked and said; "no offence, but i couldn't see you beating up anyone."
he's right. i'm 5'6" and weigh 138 lbs.
all said and done. still remains the humiliation.
this is not why we immigrated to your country. this is not why we contributed to your canada. this is not what we left our homelands for.
we are not your slaves. we are not yours to do with as you please. just because someone doesn't speak your language, it doesn't make them a baboon. we did not commit such a crime to be treated like animals. we were over-crowded.
the city of toronto invites millions of people to come celebrate a gay event on a gay street with 4 blocks in length. there are about 20 licensed establishments that have to cater to the invited. the beer gardens close at 11:00pm. and liquor license is extended till 4:00am to only selected establishments. where do you expect the crowd to go after 11:00pm?
why is it, we never see the police or the inspectors all year sometimes, but always on gay pride? how is this not systematic?
while the beer gardens are in operation, there is no business for us. yet the inspectors NEVER show up before 11:30pm. they enjoy giving the crowd half an hour do disperse to the bars before they come in with their sticks.
those are the facts. as ugly as it may be. again, i'd like to thank you all. our costumers were our family and friends. the neighborhood has brought us nothing but the joy we have experienced in the past 11 years. my family and i have learned a lot from the village and it has made us better people.
it was an honor to serve you.
thank you all for taking the time to read this statement. and i wish you all a wonderful canada day.
babylon martini & musique boutique
Tuesday, July 12, 2005
- I often wake up to RB on top of me, trying to get me aroused. This of course can be at any hour of the morning or night.
- I often continue to pretend to be asleep, which he takes as a fantasy game, and makes him even more aroused. He thinks I am trying to play "hard to get", when in fact he is the only one "to get hard".
- I cannot change, shower, brush my teeth or cook, or do dishes without him coming behind me to grab my ass to get busy with me. I think it arouses him, to see that he can get sex, and have food and clean clothes within 1 hour. I am a muti-tasker.
- When he wakes me up in the morning with his prodding and grabbing, I tell him in a gruff parental voice, "Alex cannot come out to play!". His reply is "That's fine. Can I come in to play?"
- RB's belief is that if he cums a lot, it means I have been neglecting him. Apparently, the amount also proves his fidelity and monogamy to me.
- This past weekend, I took him to the Molson Indy as a pre-birthday gift. It was awesome, but it made him hornier than expected. Now if he watches Speed TV and sees me in the room, he gets aroused. I am thinking of cancelling Cable.
Friday, July 8, 2005
Rib Breaker has been away since last Friday at a cottage with of all people, one of his Ex’es and some other dudes. He drove out to visit his mum in
A few weeks ago he and I chatted at some length about our relationship and where it was going. I told him that he needed to open up and communicate with me, as he tends to gravitate to being a quiet private person. I didn't expect the change in him when I set down these certain parameters to our relationship. He started talking about his childhood, his fears, future and why he couldn't say "I love you". It hurt to hear a lot of it, but in many ways it made me love him more, because he confided in me for the first time. During our chat he told me he has no one to talk to, and has never digressed any of his feelings and emotions before. I asked if he ever spoke or confided in friends and he said “No”. He certainly feels comfortable enough with me to cry, laugh and show emotions, so I am hoping that there will be something there to work on.
He quietly said to me in his sheepish way that he didn't understand how or why I hung around him, what with all the mistakes he makes. I replied that it was a choice on my part to work on things, and that I did love him. I have never said it before to anyone else with such conviction and trueness. In the past I would have been bored or tired of the situation and moved on to what I thought were bigger and better things. I realise now that my pattern of behaviour was to find fault in others so that I could push them away, before I was pushed away. It was definitely a defense mechanism I built that protected me from being hurt. It obviously was not a very healthy way to live, but I see that same pattern in RB at times, and we have spoken about it. He and I are of very different worlds, but so much more similar than we would like to let on. We both know how to push people away. Hurt and pain can do that to a person. We have taken a few breaks from one another to figure things out, but always seem to return, but the difference now, is we talk about it. I suppose these days, my new view on life has filtered out a lot of the bitter edge of skeptism that I can/could be loved. I hope the same for him. It seems he does realise this - as we lay on the couch 2 weeks ago, he in my arms, he turned to me and said “I’m beginning to realise and understand. I’m a bit slow and take time, if you are willing to wait.”
Oddly, I bumped into one of his ex’s on the street last night whom I get along well with. He confided that he was pleasantly surprised to see RB still with me, and thought it had something to do with my patience, forthrightedness and directness with RB. He did indicate that RB has never been the relationship type, but I guess I am in for the long haul and willing to see what happens. It is now approaching 9 months and we still have a lot of things to work out and learn about one another. I am not one to give up on people or life, and believe if anything, we will be part of each others lives for a long time, even if not as partners.
Note: I bought 2 tix to the Toronto Molson Indy for Sunday, as he is a car fanatic and once wanted to learn to be a race car driver. He doesn’t know I did this yet, but I thought it would be a nice pre-birthday gift for him. Will let you know what it’s all like after.
Tuesday, July 5, 2005
Monday, July 4, 2005
Boys and their toys
Always need a foot shot
Where I sat most of the weekend
I am back. This time far more relaxed and a whole lot more sane. Time was needed to detox my brain and body and I am feeling awesome. Was up at a friends cottage this past long weekend (pictures to be posted later), after a long crazy Pride weekend, so the quiet and rest was very much needed.
As a side note, I will be posting my personal stuff on this new site and will keep my old site for other stuff.
Feel free to add the other to your lists etc.
Love and hugs,