Chicken Style Black Forest

SO it seems I found myself in the kitchen after smoking a little pot (quelle surprise!) and opened the fridge to see what gluttonous treasures lay within. Now I got (oh wait this an SM for those keeping count.) a sweet deal here. Ray is a nester and we are never for want in the house. Da boy keep a well stocked pantry ladies. All I do is I write him a cheque each month. And he isn’t a bad roomie. We have a unique companionship.

This may at first look like the utopian ideal I describe but alas there is a weak link. I don’t always like the choices or quantity/quality of things he may buy. I opened the deli tray and saw something that looked like chicken or maybe ham. I’m stoned who cares. I roll up a slice and my brain lays in anticipation to see what my taste buds tell: Is it chicken or is it ham? Then came the screwed up face.

What the fuck is "chicken style black forest" people? See it is even hard to say. That should portend or at least foreshadow the doom that lay ahead. OH and if that doesn’t say whoa Nelly then the next line says 15% meat protein. And all in the same font. AND not even dropped down a point or to the next line.

Chicken Style
Black Forest
15% Meat Protein

Is this flesh before me the sour and sweat spawned offspring of some bizarre mad scientist lab copulation between species experiment gone awry? You know how mixed babies are usually quite attractive as some aesthetics gene kicks in and takes over the selection process and only the unique genes commingle. (Aside: When I first saw Alex I thought he was mixed. Then I found out he was just unusually quite beautiful.) Where were we? Oh yeah the mad chicken ham beast. It did not get the best of the chicken and pig. Salty as hell - I got borderline hypertension.

I think they know how bad it tastes and add the salt thinking it will magically make it palatable. Yeah sure. Do you think they actually get a big bunch of chicken and ham and grind and mush them together and then shape it to a loaf? Gross.

Furthermore and maybe paramount where is any sense of decency? Man we raise the damned chickens and pigs in captivity and kill the damned chickens and pigs to eat the asses can’t we at least give it a little dignity in death and let it be its own food product. Hell I don’t mind. If I really want those two flavours together I’ll stack them.

Where’s PETA when you need them.

Cr-cr-cr-crushin? Or is that gas?

(I have decided to use a different style as I guest write for Epi. Check out my own blog for my usual pedantic ramblings.)


SO I am spending some time with a man. I have grown fond of this man and like being around him. He is helping me let go of some past expectations/illusions/delusions. And though I proclaim to be a liver of the moment he is so much better at living the moment then I could ever be. My brain has a wee-bit-o-problem turning off.

For the first two weeks there was the euphoria of newness. I think the word is CRUSHIN. His name is Simon. He says he is CRUSHIN too. I think that is what makes this grin slide across my face. Requited affection - gotta like it. I may be in jeopardy of losing my acerbic edge. The horror the horror!!

Two samples of incredibly romantic or cheesy dialogue uttered in the last 53 days (a wild guess).

***********

Joshua: You have a perma-grin.

Simon: What’s that?

Joshua: You have a permanent smile on your face as if you are smiling from your heart.

Simon: So do you.

Joshua: I guess we are both extremely happy with where we happen to find ourselves at this point in time.

Simon: I guess we are.

***********

Joshua: You are so cute.

Simon: You are.

Joshua: You are so adorable.

Simon: But that’s you though.

**********

Joshua: I feel the need to ravage you severely.

Simon: Then don’t let me stop you from meeting your needs.

******

Joshua: I keep smiling a lot lately. Walking around with a grin on my face.

Simon: Its called a “shit eating grin”. I have one too.

******

Now though I find myself attracted to this person I find I do not have that gut wrenching passion for him. I don’t emotionally or intellectually get off on this person. The first couple of weeks le papillon de l’amour were doing their thing but they quickly fluttered away. Fickle ‘flies. You know the nervousness in the tummy when I think of him.

We are kind, considerate, caring, sexy. Maybe how I define passion for a man is changing and all the craziness of youth is replaced by a more realistic view. I’ve been in love many times and had my heart broken, reassembled, and broken hearts. I have absolutely no idea what the hell I am trying to convince myself of. I need to stop thinking and just be and let it run where it may. Great advice to give but a bitch to follow.

Writer's Block Party

SO, many polytheistic belief systems believe that we human beings are conduits of and for all energy in the universe. Changes are often reflected in our moods. Now I am not talking about the ability to watch an episode of Extreme Makeover Home Edition and be laughing one moment and bawling your eyes out the next.

A number of friends have of late been reporting a lack of creativity. With a lack of creativity comes a lack of motivation. They are two ingredients in the sour dour dough. I count myself in their numbers. But sadly there seems to be no saints to march in and save the day – or at least a good idea for fuck sakes.

Is it the cold Canadian winter? The low light levels? The lack of colour? I personally have not posted on my own blog for a while now. Even Epicurist says that one of the reasons for not posting lately is a lack of creativity. Maybe gravitating towards the routine of career gives us the energy to wade through the sea of ennui? Maybe soon the colours of spring trigger areas of the brain that finally thaw out. Until then.

So this is my creative kick at the can holding my creative slump. I figured by taking responsibility for someone else’s blog I might at least feel obligated to write and at least keep the muscle working.

Here we go. I hope.

Extended Absinthe

Well Absence is more like it.

I am bogged down by The Man, and wishing I wasn't. I want and need a vacation, but seeing that I can't, I am willing myself away from the Kingdom of Blog - just for a while longer.

In my very soon to be missed absence, my friend and fellow blogger, Stoned Bunny will be my guest writer. I have known him for about 11 years, and have always respected his intellect and humour. He is a veritable genius, and I expect that he will do me proud.

Attention Stoned Bunny,

I, Epicurist (aka Alexander), of the domain Epicureal thoughts, give you, Stoned Bunny, full and complete editorial freedom, to write and post without hesitation or fear of my involvement (well, so long as there are no incriminating stories about me).

So without further ado, here is the adorably cute and fuzzy Stoned Bunny.

Cheers and Thanks a lot,
Alexander

Some time off

Hello my lovely bloggers,

I will be taking a short time off due to work and the amount of projects on my plate. Unfortunately, this time I will not have the luxury to blog whilst I work.

I intend to be back soon, but in the meantime and learning about RSS and CSS (info). If any of you know of good tutorials or RSS downloads and good Host server sites, I would be happy to hear from you so that I can begin my path toward ultimate geekdom.

Cheers!
Epi

The Year of the Rooster

Wishing you all a very Happy Chinese New Years. It is the year of the Rooster or as we fags like to call it, "Year of the Cock". I wish I had time to tell you more about it, but work is busy as hell, and well, I really don't know all that much, so have a look here about Chinese traditions and here for info on the Year of the Rooster.

Happiness, Health, Prosperity & Good Luck!

When thanks are due....

I just wanted to take a few minutes to thank you ALL for your support, advice, and friendship, from the bottom of my heart. It has been just over a year since my first blog, and I must say that I am pleasantly surprised by this unlikely grouping of bloggers. I truly do see you as friends, and thank you for the stories, the laughter, sarcasm, bitchiness, and warm comments.

I admit that I have always been a fiercely independent soul, keeping personal issues to myself, but you have all shared so much that I now realise that being emotive and expressing oneself is not a bad thing. It is not a sign of weakness. It is human nature and the way we grow.

This adventure has truly expanded my horizon and I want you to all know that you all have been the silver lining to my blog experience.

The last 3 years of my life have seen many ups and downs, where I most often fought the battle on my own. It has been tough at times. Only my close friends in Toronto know what I have been through. I have no regrets about how I did it. I am stronger for it, and am far more clear about who I am and what makes me tick. I have faced darkness and despair, but risen from that hellish hole to see that life has a lot to offer, as I to it. My superb friends have been my Rock and I would also like to send my love to them.

As I embark on a new path this year, many changes and new choices are being made that will irrevocably change my life for the better. The ball has already begun, and I can feel the restless tides churning. I have been in a very good place for quite sometime now, and it is because I have realised that I cannot do this on my own, and that friends are to be leaned upon. At the same time, one must always Respect, Honour, Love and Thank those who have been there for you. Friends and family are not to be taken for granted.

So without further a do:
Thanks to all,
The Joy Luck Club
The Cottage Crew
The Highschool Gang
The Kingdom of Bloggers
and To my family (I love you for how far you have come, and I look forward to what is next)

With Love and Thanks Always,
Alex

Barking dogs and Magic Mushrooms do not go together.

Since recently on the topic of dogs, I forgot to write about an experience I had during August 2004. I had gone away to a friends cottage late Friday night. My dog was to be alone for about 8 hours or so, with my mum coming early the next day to babysit, so I believed all was fine.

Granted, I should have arranged someone to come earlier and I take full responsibilty for it.

Anyhow, Saturday comes along and were all happily basking in the Parry Sound Sun. Water is warm and weather is beautiful with an ever so slight breeze. The true story begins, when one of our friends decides to take out his bag of magic mushrooms to share with everyone. Now, take note that I have only done this once before, but what I took was smaller than my fingernail, and had little to no effect. This time, they hand me something about the size of my index finger which I eat suspiciously.

What began as a nice day literally turned into a nightmare within the hour. The initial high was fine, but paranoia and hullicinations were going to be the chosen theme for the day for me. Branches, trees, grass and even the wallpaper were crawling like bugs and had me completely freaked out. I have never been in a powerless situation like that and I will never put myself there again. This of course, lasted 6 hours and at the 4th hour I get a call from my hysterical mother telling me that the neighbours had called the security and Police indicating that the dog had been abandoned and abused as she was whining and barking all morning. The police apparently came and said the dog had defecated and urinated all over the home. If the constable had taken a little more care, he would have noticed that the supposed shit were actually her toys and bones strewn about the floor.

This of course could’nt have come at the worst moment. I don’t believe I have ever been more stressed in my life. To top it off, the neighbour left a nasty letter at my door, indicating that I was abusive and that the dog barks everytime they walk down the corridor (like duh!). They called the Humane society, and upon their arrival, the neighbour accosted my mother whilst she was sitting watching Tele with kalyx. Mum of course is a petite, diminutive lady, and she immediately began to cry. The humane society lady was sweet and said that the neighbours were being ridiculous and indicated that kalyx’s mixed breeding made her a whiner, and that she would most certainly bark if someone unfamiliar walked past the front door. She pointed out that it was the nature of dogs to bark.

Now, I realise that I made a misjudgement in leaving Kalyx for an extended period of time, and tehre is no excuse for that. But the kicker was my conversation with my neighbour that Sunday night.

I called her Saturday while in Cottage country and left a mesasge to apologise, and for her to return my call Sunday evening, which she promptly did. She starts the conversation by saying Kalyx always whines and barks, which I tell her I am sorry about, but little I can do. Kalyx literally whines all the time -when we leave, go, move from one room to the other, play, walk, etc. Her whining is equivalent to that annoying tap that never ceases to drip. I have lived with it for 13 years and I am used to it.

I apologise for the barking, and continue by telling her that the walls are quite thin, as her boyfriend had indicated that he could hear me play the piano every now and then. She then responds by saying

“Yeah, we can hear you play Coldplay. One day you’ll get it right!”

Was that completely necessary? I was completely aghast that she would be so nasty. I ended the conversation there. Saw her a few times thereafter, but was cordial. Anyhow, she and her boyfriend have moved. So now, I suppose I have “Bad Neighbour” to add to my any qualities.

Letting my guard down

Let me first begin by saying that I am not jaded and bitter.

Of course, now having said that, half of you are rolling your eyes, and giving a good chuckle. But honestly, being jaded is not in my nature and it is not something I would want to be. However, when it does come to relationships, I have always been somewhat leary. Cautious might be the more appropriate word, but the idea of being in love with someone so deeply has always been somewhat foreign to me. I know, it really is a sad thing to say, but it is the truth. I came from a family, where open displays of affection were not particularly common. Family life was sometimes traumatic and painfully disturbing, and I am sure it set a psychological and emotional precedence for my life. Thinking back to all my relationships, it is hard for me to know if I was truly in love with any of them. I realise that this had a lot to do with my fear of rejection and abandonment, but that is something I have been working on and believe I am overcoming.

When you have had so many things happen in your life that either hold you down or kick you to the curb, it is hard to put trust in other people, but more so to allow trust in yourself. You find it hard to believe that you can be loved when those you had loved hurt you. It’s not rocket science. It’s emotional scarring and the need for self preservation, and it is the truth. A truth that I have realised and am still sorting out.

Having said this, I have found myself in an unusual situation. I have never dated or gone out with anyone for more than a few months whereby at some point I begin to get bored, or begin to question the validity of the relationship. I have also never lived with a partner or spent more than a few days consecutively day and night. It usually gets to that stage where you start to pick out qualites you don’t like in the person and wonder if you can live with them. You take the glue away from the relationship and it unwinds faster than you can believe. It often was a welcome thing for me, as I could then pull away and not commit to trust or love. I was far to rational and logic to believe that love was something that could fulfill something in you. Oddly enough, it has now been 3 months since I met Rib Breaker, and I have gotten cold feet once for about 10 minutes. It quickly dissappated when I saw his face and received a hug. I really hate sounding sappy and gushy, but he makes me happy and has literally been with me everyday since we met.

I admit, that I by definition have never been a very demonstrative or emotional person. Well, the truth is that I never let people believe I was. Emotions were a sign of weakness and irrational behaviour, which I realise is a somewhat chavinistic, machismo attitude. It is something that I have been working on, and again something that I attribute to that fear of letting my guard down, and trusting myself.

Luckily, Rib Breaker is easy-going, laidback, intelligent, unassuming, unpretentious, funny and incredibly sexy. He is an incredible person and so much more real than anyone else I have ever met. We don’t take anything too seriously and believe humour and laughter to be the basis for our relationship.

Yes, the early stages are often filled with gushy feelings and ridiculous displays of affection, but I am enjoying it, as I have never before. There is a passion here now that I have never felt, and I don’t want to quell it. I am curious and want to explore the options. It should be an interesting adventure.

A New experience

Let me first begin by saying that I am not jaded and bitter.

Of course, now having said that, half of you are rolling your eyes, and giving a good chuckle. But honestly, being jaded is not in my nature and it is not something I would want to be. However, when it does come to relationships, I have always been somewhat leary. Cautious might be the more appropriate word, but the idea of being in love with someone so deeply has always been somewhat foreign to me. I know, it really is a sad thing to say, but it is the truth. I came from a family, where open displays of affection were not particularly common. Family life was sometimes traumatic and painfully disturbing, and I am sure it set a psychological and emotional precedence for my life. Thinking back to all my relationships, it is hard for me to know if I was truly in love with any of them. I realise that this had a lot to do with my fear of rejection and abandonment, but that is something I have been working on and believe I am overcoming.

When you have had so many things happen in your life that either hold you down or kick you to the curb, it is hard to put trust in other people, but more so to allow trust in yourself. You find it hard to believe that you can be loved when those you had loved hurt you. It’s not rocket science. It’s emotional scarring and the need for self preservation, and it is the truth. A truth that I have realised and am still sorting out.

Having said this, I have found myself in an unusual situation. I have never dated or gone out with anyone for more than a few months whereby at some point I begin to get bored, or begin to question the validity of the relationship. I have also never lived with a partner or spent more than a few days consecutively day and night. It usually gets to that stage where you start to pick out qualites you don’t like in the person and wonder if you can live with them. You take the glue away from the relationship and it unwinds faster than you can believe. It often was a welcome thing for me, as I could then pull away and not commit to trust or love. I was far to rational and logic to believe that love was something that could fulfill something in you. Oddly enough, it has now been 3 months since I met Rib Breaker, and I have gotten cold feet once for about 10 minutes. It quickly dissappated when I saw his face and received a hug. I really hate sounding sappy and gushy, but he makes me happy and has literally been with me everyday since we met.

I admit, that I by definition have never been a very demonstrative or emotional person. Well, the truth is that I never let people believe I was. Emotions were a sign of weakness and irrational behaviour, which I realise is a somewhat chavinistic, machismo attitude. It is something that I have been working on, and again something that I attribute to that fear of letting my guard down, and trusting myself.

Luckily, Rib Breaker is easy-going, laidback, intelligent, unassuming, unpretentious, funny and incredibly sexy. He is an incredible person and so much more real than anyone else I have ever met. We don’t take anything too seriously and believe humour and laughter to be the basis for our relationship.

Yes, the early stages are often filled with gushy feelings and ridiculous displays of affection, but I am enjoying it, as I have never before. There is a passion here now that I have never felt, that I don’t want to quell it. I am curious and want to explore the options. It should be an interesting adventure.

Puppy Power

I've been sick and I've not been in the writing mood. I blame it on the damned power outage I had this past Sunday and my inability to stay warm for 12 hours. So instead, here are some pictures of my baby. Well, she's not a baby, she's a dog. She's 13 years old and a nut just like me. But isn't she cute?


Babooshka or is it Not Without My Daughter?

Camera shy Kalyx
New booties and coat




Christmas Kalyx

Quick excerpts that I forgot to mention.

Thursday Jan 13, 2005

My hair was all nappy and big, and as close to an afro as it gets. My Project coordinator at work also made mention of it, and gave me a complex, so I had to go cut it. I went to see my Vietnamese hairdresser, and upon sitting she proceeded to ask how my holiday was. This was the conversation:

Hair Dresser: Oh, Hi Alex! Good to see you! How was your holiday?
Me: Good thanks.
HD: You see lots of family, or just see friends?
Me: Both. I had some small gatherings with friends, and had Christmas dinner with family on the 25th and on the 27th.
HD: Oh that nice. You eat a lot?
Me: Well, I guess. I cooked Christmas dinner for the family. there was lots of food, because there were 14 people. Then on the 27th, my brother and I cooked for 29 people.
HD: Oh, That a lot of people! So you eat a lot then. I can see!
Me: You can see?
HD: Yes. You more round in face, and fatter in body. Holiday fat.
Me: (staring blankly): Oh...
HD: Oh no! It look good. Much better now. You clothes fit more nicely. Before you so skinny like skeleton.
Me: (staring blankly): Oh...

The remainder of the haircut was silent. I paid her, gave her the usual tip and left.
That night I had a salad.

Scissor Sistors Concert

Scissor Sisters Concert

10:10pm @ The Guvernment

It was a fucking cold Monday night in Toronto, and my balls had literally retreated into my throat on account of the -36 degree celsius cold front. I would have been content staying in with the dog and a warm cup of tea, but I had a date with the Scissor Sisters for an evening of sexy rock and funky disco at the Guvernment. I am glad I braved the frigid weather, as this was by far the best concert I have ever been to, and I wasn't even on drugs.

After having made 2 trips to the venue (I had to return home to get my forgotten ticket), I entered a room full of energy and excitement. The crowd was energetic, eclectic, friendly and very sexy. After listening to the opening band, we all waited with anticipation for the Scissor Sisters to come on stage. We were'nt dissappointed by their entrance. With a fanfare of chic and glam, the band came on stage to a whole lot of cheers. I don't think anyone in retro has ever pulled off skin tight polyester pants the way this motley crew has. The band exuded an incredibly sexy glam-groove that was both casual and entertaining at the same time. You couldn't help but bump and grind to the music, no matter what sex or gender you fell into. Gorgeous Jake Shears, the lead singer looked like a cross between the boy next door and a whorish dirty fag. His sex appeal was the first thing you noticed. The second thing you noticed was that he was circumcised. The third thing you noticed was the incredible voice and range of Shears.

Ms. Ana Matronic was as much a sassy diva and bitch as Shears and really got the crowd going with her antics and feistiness.

These guys have style and presence and really know how to rally up the crowd. I was not immune and found myself dancing and grinding with both girls and guys. It goes without saying that the crowd was totally sexed up by the end of the night. I had to tell 2 girls I was gay when they had their hands wrapped around my ass, but that didn't stop them, and by that point I didn't particularly care.

The Scissor Sisters, cross not only the sexual boundaries of homoeroticism, but also the boundaries of music, often incorporating the sounds and styles of Abba, Bee Gees, Freddie Mercury and Elton John. What is phenomenal about their music and their stage presence is that they palatably combine 70's funk, 80's tackiness with over the top theatrics, that have completely upstaged a music scene that has become stagnant and a bore with tacky pop bands. It's no wonder that they have been labelled U.k's #1 band and album.

I look forward to their next album and tour. Won't miss it if it is -50 celsius.

Parental Phone calls

I just got off a very frustrating and confusing call with my mother that went something like this:

Me: Hi Mum.
Mum: Oh Hi! How did you know it was me?
Me: I always know it’s you mum. I have caller ID.
Mum (in a perplexed tone): Oh yes. I always forget. I just wanted to call and say hello and to tell you I just got the new phone and am testing it to see if it works. But, I can’t tell if it does?
Me: Umm, you’re talking to me on it right now?
Mum: Yes. But it is so confusing with all those instructions and terminology I am unfamiliar with!
Me: But mom, you’re talking to me right now using the phone, so it must work!
Mum: Oh?...Oh! I know that, but it was confusing all the same. I just didn’t know what they meant by handset and base until sometime later! Handset is the cordless thing, and the base is that thingamajig that sits on the table. Did you know that?
Me: Umm Yes Mum, I did know that. Wait, I thought you were speaking about the new cell phone you ordered?
Mum: No. The new phone for my house I bought. Did you know I also cancelled my Bell voicemail? This phone has everything on it like a message recorder and caller ID and it was a good deal. I just wish it were simpler to figure out.
Me: So, did you get the voicemail part working?
Mum: No, not yet. I don’t know how to do it. Do you? Oh, did I tell you your father is at your brothers place downtown? He went there to watch the house as the construction people do the repairs.
Me: Yes, he already called me to tell me he was there….bored. (that was another interesting conversation!)
Mum: Oh your father is always like that. Did you know that I cancelled my Rogers internet and changed it to the cheaper one which was originally $48.00 and is now only $30.00? I think $48.00 is a lot and I don’t need it for my emailing…..

The conversation went on like this for another 3-4 minutes. Even if I had been paying attention to her and remembered the rest of the disjointed conversation, I wouldn’t bore you with it. I love my mother, but she has a wonderful knack for calling while I am busy at work to talk about a whole lot of nothing.

She’s cute, I have to give her that.

Dissappointments

I've realised with some hesitation, that I am to the Chinese what the anti-Christ is to the Christians.

No, I was not some demon child bent on raising hell (though some may disagree), but I also was not what my parents had in mind when they had a child. I think every Asian parent believes that their new bundle of joy will also bring them a bundle of cash; That their newly swaddled child would bring wattles of cash; That their bouncing baby would study to become a successful doctor, businessperson, dentist or lawyer.

Little did they know the shameful path I would take - I am what you would call a disappointment to my parents. well, maybe dissappointment is a harsh word, but I definitely did not maake them proud to be parents. I am sure they would not say this to my face, but like most Asians, would do it in gossip behind my back.

Instead of a successful son in business, married to a beautiful fruitful wife, with 3 children (mostly boys), I turned out to be a whorish fag, who studied Psychology & Art History and theory in University. I suppose I redeemed some of my parents respect when I went back to college for I.T studies, and now work as a data specialist, but the fact of the matter remains that I did not turn out the way they wanted. My older brother (god bless him) is a successful Analyst, married to a beautiful kind wife, with a new home, who is I am sure well on his way to conceiving a child in the next few years (well his wife, not him). The pressure has been somewhat alleviated, and I am glad for it. Nevertheless, I feel terrible that the entire genealogical onus is now on my brother to be the one that bears our fathers’ name.

Anyhow, it was shameful enough that I didn’t pursue medicine, but as a child I was horrendous at arithmetic, and every person knows that Asians are mathematical geniuses. Sadly, my year-end average would still have been a fail if I reversed the digits. In an effort to make me more Asian-friendly for presentation to friends and family, my parents put me in piano studies, which again was a foolish attempt on their part. After 7-8 years of study, I quit upon reaching Grade 3. I was not a very astute pupil.

My parents during family or social gatherings would try to stay quiet about my studies and piano lessons. However, Asian families love to compare their children and highlight each childs' achievements in an effort to determine the hierarchy of their childs' intelligence. Of course when doing such a comparison, one always starts with the best or most intelligent child. I still remember one such conversation:

Mrs. Li: Oh yes, son number one now in gifted class. Get straight A’s and finish Royal conservatory for piano. Maybe now study violin. Son number two now get scholarship for school. He also play at Kiwanis festival. Win prize for piano! How your son’s do? Must be finish piano now after 6 years play!

Mum & Dad: Well, Justin is doing really well with straight A’s. His piano classes are also going very well, and he is now in the gifted class as well! He is also very good at sports, and has joined the math and chess clubs.

Mrs. Li: Oh fantastic! How about Son number 2?

M&D: Yes, well Son number 2 is a very...what would you say he is? Um, a very creative child. He also has quite the fascinating character, with many interesting qualities.

You know it’s bad when your parents are trying to inflate or boost your achievements by using adjectives to make you sound less retarded. It's like pimping your resume to make you sound more educated, experienced or qualified.

I still remember Report Card Day, when report cards were handed out, for us to give to our parents. Who does such a thing? I was terrified, and upon opening it to see a plethora of C’s, D’s and the occasional E, I decided it would be a brilliant idea to use Liquid paper to cover them over and write in a more acceptable grade. Completely oblivious to my own stupidity, I also decided it would be completely unnoticeable if I liquid papered the scathing comments section:

Alex , although bright, is , often lazy and un willing to do homework. His lack of focus is evident in his lack of rewards and accomplishments in class.

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.

In a way, I feel sorry for my parents. To have dreams of a successful child dashed on the rocks of reality. A number of years ago my parents confided in me that they actually thought I was retarded (their words, not mine). Apparently, as the story goes, when I first came to Canada at 9 months old, I would bang my head in the crib so violently like an autistic child that the crib would move across the wooden floors to the other side of the room. This story brings no end of laughter at Christmas parties and family events where they reminisce about our childhood follies. I think they actually tell the story to comfort themselves and say,

See, how retarded and crazy he was? Now, he is doing quite well. We really must have been exceptional parents, because we took the retarded ness out of him. We are truly amazing parents!

Yes, Mum and Dad, you truly are! Thanks and I love you!

Still at work

So, here I am... still at work.

I was supposed to have the day off, but decided to come in to finish off some projects, with the intention of leaving at noon. Noon comes along, I pack my stuff and head out into a wet, wintry, slushy, rainy Toronto. I wander about and get my haircut, enjoying the notion that the rest of the day will be for me. Then, I get an email from a client crying that the sky has fallen, desperate for help.

I have no recourse but to return to work to finish things off. My colleagues who were supposed to be working buggered off before me.

I am in a rotten mood and it's getting worse. My plans of champagne and Oprah are as muddied as the Toronto streets. My cool exterior still gives off a pleasant facade, but I feel like pissing on everyone who walks by.

I hope this drama ends quick, before I go ballistic.

Wrapping Up

I was at the LCBO (Liquor store) today amongst the masses purchasing last minute party favours and gifts for colleagues. The place was a zoo, but I had no choice as I had to purcahse some Cognac for a colleague. When I got to the cash, the cashier asked if I wanted the gift wrapped for $2.50. Having no time to do it myself, I agreed.

I waited for 10 minutes when a slightly confused guy came up to the wrapping desk to assist me. The first words out of his mouth were “I have never wrapped anything before”. I decided to take matters into my own hands and told him to stand aside and I would wrap my own gift.

He made no attempt to disagree as the lineup was getting larger. In fact, it became quite the tutorial as I deftly wrapped, ribboned and parcelled my package. As I finished, the other waiting customers asked if I could wrap theirs instead of the fellow. I told them I didn’t work there, so I helped him on the next package and gave him some tips then left.

He followed my leave with a “thanks, how’d you learn to do that?”, with which I replied “ I’m gay, it’s hard coded into my genes”.

I could hear the laughter as I left.

Random Thoughts on a Random Day from a Random Individual

Random Thought 1
So I haven't done any Christmas shopping as yet. I don't think I'm actually exchanging anything with anyone, other than my parents and brother. That should be easy. I'll give my parents money and my brother vintage wine. But honestly, the whole Christmas shopping process is a headache and is what I consider an ordeal. I don't mind the idea of it, since it has been romanticised so much - the snow falling as you drink cocoa and window shop. However, in reality, it's all about frantic shoppers, commercialsim and stress. Not to mention, overheating in that wool sweater, and smelling like some stank wooly mammoth. On a side note, I do like to wrap gifts and decorate. My big thing is to wrap using a glue gun, so there are no visible tape marks...anal I know.

Random Thought 2
I bought a pair of Steve Madden shoes on November 17 from a shoe shop on Yonge street. The shoes promptly fell apart by December 01, so I returned them this weekend to find out what they could do for me. The owner and sales people were all speaking Cantonese (a language I cannot speak). They looked at me and I could tell they were debating the issue and questioning my validity, so I started pretending that I knew what they were talking about, just in case they were going to talk dirty or sneaky. Besides, it was my attempt at making them feel like I was one of them. I felt cheap doing it, but it seemed to work, so they took the shoes and my number down to investigate. I just hope that when I return they don't start talking to me in tongues, cause I won't understand a word of it.

Random Thought 3
I made a big batch of beef stew the other day. Lots of veggies and thickened with corn starch. The problem is that I don't think I can eat anything made with corn anymore. It gives me gas galore. Yesterday I was flatulating so much that my dog left the room in a huff because of the smell. This from a dog that has been seen eating a drunks vomit in the park. Rib Breaker, who was over last night said it smelled like a gerbil had crawled up my ass and died.

Random Thought 4
I brought in 5 bags of chocolates, one Friday about 2 weeks ago. By Tuesday all 5 bags of chocolates were gone. I was the most popular guy on the floor during that time. Now, everyone keeps walking by and asking when I will get more. All I could think was,

It was a one time thing you cheap bastards. Howz about you'se getz some chocolates and feed your sorry fat asses instead?

But that wouldn't be Christian of me.

Random Thought 5
I bought a Norfolk Christmas Tree. Just hope it doesn't die like the one I bought last year. That tree dried up like a... well... like a dried up tree. Rib Breaker finds it all very amusing since he doesn't really care for Christmas and all the hoopla associated to it. I am off to his work Christmas party tonight. Sort of odd, since we have been only seeing each other for 3 weeks now.

Random Thought 6
What do Jewish people do on Christmas Day, when everything is closed? It seems somewhat unfair doesn't it? From what I have observed, going out for Chinese Food seems to be the norm, as are the movies.

On a side note, why don't we get to celebrate and get Channukah, Rosh ha-Shanah or Yom Kippur off as holidays? When I was in University, we had all those days off. I was considered an honourary Jewish brother by some friends and was even invited to dinner at one friends family home once for the start of Channukah. Upon arriving, I was somewhat surprised to see a turkey and honeyed ham sittng on the table. There was of course the traditional matza ball soup and a beef brisket, but my shock was evident enough to elicit a remark from the mother who said something to the effect of "tradition shmadition, pork tastes good."

Random Thought 7
I will probably go to hell for laughing at this, but I couldn't resist not sharing it with you. It's a wonderful Christmas Jingle to help us remember those less fortunate than us.

Caption Contest - idea gratefully stolen from Wanda Wisdom

Since having had so much fun commenting on Wandas site, I decided it was high time to pick out the most atrocious celebrity outfits and poke a bit of fun at them. It wasn't hard since they were from the same damned actress/skank.

Now Bai Ling is apparently a famous Asian actress, but man is she ever fugly! What a shame and embarrassment to my people. So come up with a caption for each of the 3 pics, and you too can win a personal fashion consultation from her stylist! The winner will be chosen based on wit and inappropriateness.

I see Paris, I see France, I can see your....wait, she ain't wearing any underpants!

Asian Trash?

S.R.I

It's Tuesday morning and I am still smarting from a weekend of fun and frolic. I have used the term "no pain, no gain" often enough, but little did I realise that I would take it to the 9th degree. The end result is that I have some serious S.R.I.

Sex Related Injuries

It seems my birthday weekend was one to remember. It also seems that with age, not only do your bones go brittle, but your brain atrophies into stupidity.

Without getting into the sordid details, lets just say that I was feeling a serious amount of pain in my upper chest (rib) area on Sunday night/Monday morning. I already had a doctors appointment booked for 9:45am on Monday, so I took the opportunity to chat with my doctor about it. It went like this:

Doc: So how are you doing?
Me: Pretty good, but I have a question before anything else.
Doc: Alright, shoot.
Me: How do you know if you have a broken or fractured rib?
Doc: (with eyebrows raised): Umm, well, you would feel a sharp pain as you breathe and tenderness where the trauma took place. Now may I ask you a question?
Me: Shoot.
Doc: Now, I have to question why my patient would be asking me that. Lift your shirt up and lets have a look.

I didn't embellish too much about my sexual adventures, but he got the idea and left it alone. As I lifted my shirt up, wincing in pain, my doc let out a "Holy shit, what the hell were you up to?" He sent me for X-Rays, where we have now determined that I have a possible fractured upper anterior rib. Though I may be smarting from my stupidity, both my partner in crime and I have been having a grand 'ol time laughing about it. You can really only laugh in such situations.

My partner in crime, though also a little sore, came out of it unscathed and has been feeling terribly guilty. Tending to my aches and pains wth massages at night, he wakes me every morning with a warm hug and a kiss to the nose and forehead before he goes off to work. It seems to make the world of difference.