T.O. is catching up to me
I spent a few hours out in Unionville of all places, meeting up with an old friend (and some teacher friends of hers) as they're passing through on their way to the East coast for a 16 day sojourn.
What struck me, hanging out on Main Street in Unionville is here we have a resort town environment with quaint restaurants and nik-nak gift shops which is essetially a part of Markham (which is essentially a suburb of Toronto).
You don't leave civilization for a second on your way out there, and yet, when you get there, you feel like your in a Northern Ontario tourist trap like Rossport (where the population's smaller than the area-code).
Weird thing is I've been around places like this all my life (this is the kinda stuff my Grandma, and Mom, and sister are all into... trinket towns) so you'd think I'd be comfortable... but I wasn't. I was kinda anxious to get back to the city, with it's noise and people not wandering aimlessly and streetcars and honking and music blasting from every bar and restaurant... Am I addicted to big city living already, or do I just not like these kinds of places because as a child, teenager, or any other time I've been in a car travelling with relatives I've always been subjected to these incredibly girly places (although what's fun for me is watching the husbands get dragged into these places... at least I find the crafts and whatnot interesting, those older guys are just on a short leash.)

Invader Zim
Invader Zim is the shiznat!! Download a different episode each weekend in DIVX format from Wormbaby.com
that's my PSA for the eve.

back to the future
I saw a Delorian yesterday.
I'd never seen one in person yesterday.
It sparked up nutty memories of Marty McFly.
I wanted to go for a ride, but it just sped away.
That's all.

song of the day
take a roam around Orbital land and you will find tonnes of O samples from virtually every from albums and remixes up to the release of the continually amazing Altogther.
But first, strap yourself in for an hour and fourteen minutes of O mixing it up, off their label site.
Well worth playing while you cruise the net, fill up your blog, or do the dishes... damn those dishes, damn them all to hell.

Unionville? Where the hell is Unionville
I dunno, but I gots to find it regardless.

the late, late shows
I just got in, had a shower, and popped on the tele for some background as I made my way to the pan-fry for a grilled cheese (and I make a mean grilled cheese), but what do I hear in the background? Hey, it's Ed, The Sock vividly describing a wet t-shirt contest... all I could think about was all the poor world youth day pilgrims piling into their border homes and hotel rooms, flipping on the tele to CityTV and getting an eyeful of blasphemy, and a mind full of what is it? Sin #2? Hee hee. And don't for get the "Blue Movies" that go on afterwards.. is to laugh. (for those who don't know "Blue Movies" are essentially softcore porn run on basic broadcast... no cable necessary). I just imagine all these bug-eyed Bill Keane-style Catholic kids staring in awe and confusion... hee hee
Knock Knock
-Sister Redmond?
-Yes Billy.
-Is that man hurting that woman.
-Yes, Billy, yes he is.
-But she seems to like it.
-No, Billy, she has gas, now turn that off and say forty Hail Marys, then scoot off to bed.
-Jimmy said that's how baby's are made.
-Jimmy's wrong, Billy. God makes babies. That's the Devil's work.
-Sister Redmond?
-Yes Billy.
-My pants feel funny.
-You just bought yourself another forty Hail Mary's, Billy.
-Oh shit.
--end scene--

Here's a toast to the Boogie
I'll drink to that, bottoms up.
Did you ever expend so much energy that you're just ready to throw up.
Yeah... I'm there.
I was out at the Hidden Cameras concert, held in a Church of all things, as a part of the whole Challenge the Church thang (I didn't know the antis were organized, but I guess they/we are).
One of the best things about going to a concert alone in a big city is you don't have to worry a damn bit about someone else's good time, and you can go off and dance your energy away until you feel like throwing up and not worry a lick about what your friends will think of you after (hey, I like to dance, is that so wrong you uptight sompin sompins?)
This was an amazing, amazing concert, with a few new songs (some played at their last 2 gigs which I missed including the helluva cool No Gay Goth Scene, and the equally cool Need An Enema).
The church was jumping, almost immediately. The Hidden Cameras devotees (I being one of them) are beginning to forego the inner awkwardacies of the "first few song slowly getting into it" thing, and we just jump into it right away. It's like a happy mosh pit, in church no less. Toronto... wow... you dance. Who woulda guessed.
I can't say for sure if it was a diverse crowd. Ethnically, yes, it definitely was, but sexually, who knows... and who cares. I've been having trouble getting friends and coworkers out to their shows, as their either semi-homophobic or just too cool for school, if you know what I mean...(do you? I'm not sure even I do). It's their loss.
I looked back from the front of the stage at the crowd, forced to stand from the pews to look over the dancers, and I smiled. The timid or the new. Either way, perhaps next time they'll join in.
It was a blast, and I'm going to do it again, with or without you...

Another story from church
I got to talk to Donnie (I'm pretty sure it was Donnie... I apologize if I'm wrong)... who's a part of the huge Hidden Cameras ensemble (from 8 to 12 memebers, regularly, tonight they had a 10 piece (at least) "choir").. I've had the chance to talk to all the members of the HC at this point and I've realized that they're all sweethearts. I'm just not sure that Donnie knew I'm not gay... and I'm not sure I didn't flirt with him just so I could perhaps go hang out with the band afterwords (yes, straight guys can flirt with other guys... sheesh, don't be so uptight people). But just to be sure I'm not a complete starfucker who would stoop to anything to hang with the people he admires, well, I took off spritely after it was all over.
(plus it was bloody hot to begin with, never mind dancing, and you know how much I just love sweating, huh... I wanted outside!!).
Question is... do I come off as gay? I have gay friends who have told me in definite terms "no"... but is it possible it's an easy transition? I've been told I do a good "flamboyant" impression... (told, hell, I know I do, honey, although I may be out of practice. Learned it all from Buddy Cole.)

as I walked, wet and weary
I walked past all these WYD pilgrims, and a whole whackola of coppers directing traffic, and as a taxi did a really stupid thing in front of me, then sped off before the police could flag him down, I thought about getting hit by that car, and what would happen. Would the hospital know who I was?
Well, I did have my wallet, ID and St. Michaels card, so yeah... but who would they call if I had an accident and was unconscious. I don't have any phone numbers in my wallet, except those girls whom I met (again) yesterday.
Would the hospital call them?
If so, what would they say?
And wasn't this the plot of a sappy Sandra Bullock film from many years ago?

Austin Powers: Goldmember
a mini-review.
Funny? Yes, it was funny. Michael Meyer's ability to have great comedic timing with... well... himself is impeccable (he plays four roles in this one). And yet, the movie is hinged around LOTS of body-function jokes (toots, and poopoos, and tinkle) and things of a timlier nature (sudden appearances by "guest stars" and Britney Spears' and "the Osbornes" and plenty of other things that won't be funny in a year or two).
It's a weak movie with incredibly funny performances that balance into mediocrity. The thing you realize is Austin Powers is a hinge, and that the movie's, ahem, gold in terms of comedy, interest and story all center around Meyer's other performances. Austin is tired. It's time to put him to bed. Let's just have a Dr. Evil movie.
And, hey, that was Susanna Hoffs (of the Bangles) in the band in Austin's apartment... awright. Go Susanna!!!
Oh, and finally, sharks with frickin lasers strapped to their frickin heads. Finally.

Okay, that about covers it all for one post.

Sucka!

If you know me, and it's not very likely that you do, but you can if you want but don't worry if you don't...
I love Mr. T
And not in the stupid retro pop-culture laughing at him kinda way that other "trendy urban hip" losers do... no I seriously admire the guy. He's been a hero of mine since I was 8. I had the Clubber Lang AND B.A. Baracus action figures, and they were a prized posession until.. well, the hammer came down, sucka!
I recently read his 1984 auto bio which lends a tremendous amount of insight into the way Mr.T thinks and how (up to that point) he had lived his life.
Mr. T is a cancer survivor, and a huge supporter of childrens causes. He's a hero to us all, and, yes, he fucking makes me laugh like no tomorrow.
The Faux-Mo Mr.T-ified the spider behind, and aw, man, I hurt from laughing... (clickit!!!)
(my favorite line: "Why Gringo, why?Fool!")
T makes everything chill, man!

song of the day
in honor of Mr. T, I present to you, by me:
Emote:The Carpet Behind - T1B0
It's only a minute long, and it kicks ass, foo! So listen to it sucka!
Stay in school, eat all your greens, drink yo milk!

More T
Mr. T is being saught after to appear with 5 other pop-culture icons in the WB's upcoming show "The Surreal World". It's exactly like the Real World, Celebrity Edition. Here's the newslink

An Exploding Head Conversation
gary the gary says:
martini night?
Karate-chop Action Graig says:
yup.. tini's!!!!
gary the gary says:
wot kinda social monkey are you?
Karate-chop Action Graig says:
I'm no social monkey, I'm an alkemonkey!!!
Karate-chop Action Graig says:
alkemonkey alkemonkey!!!!
gary the gary says:
drunken monkeys raiding taverns for more booze does make the nooze.
gary the gary says:
hmmm.
gary the gary says:
catholic.
gary the gary says:
alcoholic.
gary the gary says:
cathaholic.
Karate-chop Action Graig says:
yup there were some of those there too

Dear Penthouse forum... I never thought it would happen to me
Oh my, last night was incredible. I never knew I could experience such elation for such an extended period of time, but now I know I can never get tired of it.
At first I was a little scared, I mean, sure one person was great, it always is, but then more wanted to join in, and soon there were hands all over me. It was like there was a feast and I was the buffet.
There were people of all sorts there (not like the licorice all-sorts, but we did to Jagermeister to loosen up), gay, straight, men, women, pierced and whole, tickleish and not, and what did they all want...? A piece of me.
As soon as I let one touch it, they all wanted to. Some couldn't get enough. I tell you, my heart was pounding so hard at first, I thought I was going to pass out. But I relaxed into it very quickly and soon I was very comfortable with them and their fingers motioning.
It got really intense when I was sure I felt five hands at once. I didn't know whose they were, dear Forum, and to tell you the truth, I didn't care. All I knew is it felt good and I didn't want it to stop.
When you shave your head, dear Forum, people want to rub it. When the hair grows in slightly, its a whole different world of feeling...

The good "hair rub":
The first thing you have to do is close crop your hair... anything around an inch is probably the perfect length.
You have to remember that just because your hair is awfully short, it doesn't mean you can stop washing it. Nope daily maintenance is important to retain the softness and yet still keep some firmness and body.
When doing the hair rub, there are good ways and there are not so good ways. If you're doing it by yourself, you'll learn very quickly. If you're doing it to someone else, well, you may need a little guidance to ensure both parties achieved the utmost in mutual satisfaction.
It is important to have a relaxed hand for the hair rub. A firm or worried hand will decrease your pleasure giving, and will likely decrease the pleasure in receiving.
As well, don't curve the fingers into the scalp. Fingernails cause pate abrasion, and even those trimmed finernails still have a tendency to poke. Trust me, you giving and receiving no pleasure at all.
Your stroking is very important. Be light and gentle. You're not out to "noogie" someone, your out to share in a mutually gratifying sensation. It's okay to go in a back and forth or circular motion, but with an easy touch, and a slow pace. A fast pace, the sensations become too much too quickly and it's over before you have a chance to enjoy it.
The proper technique involves the palm and the tips of the fingers lightly running over the tips of the hair. In the circular or back and forth motion, the pleasure received through the touch-sense-organ will be a slight tingling, light abrasion, like new velvet (only better).
The pleasure received is indescribable yet damn, damn good.
Be wary that the sensation is an addictive one. If you find yourself going to salons, stealing a dummy head and a wig, shaving it down, and rubbing it while at the computer, watching tv, driving your car, negotiating a hostage release, dodging cruise missiles, or orbiting in outer space... well, you have a problem and need to seek professional help... also, call me (I'm so there for you, you freak! Rrrrowr.)

I got feedback
Rannies dirty fingers...
and if anyone want's to see what all the excitement was about, clickclickclick

Kelly missed out on all the fun

share a special moment with a busted brake cable
I had to drop my bread!!!
It was eerily reminiscent of one of those lame 70's murder mystery shows where someone's brake line is cut, and they're going downhill and they can't stop and then they start waving their arms around in front of their faces, and then the car goes off a cliff. It was just like that 100%, only I was on my bike, a loaf of bread under my arm, my brake cable wasn't cut, it just decided to not do anything, I had to drop my bread in order to use my rear brakes to stop the bike, which it barely did.
You know, there's nothing sadder than a loaf of bread with road rash. Awww.

it's those special moments of serendipity that make things really fucking awkward, you know?
sometimes when life gives you lemons, you just have to eat the lemon and shut the fuck up. After life gives you so many lemons your mouth is pursed, your tongue is swollen and bitter, and your cheeks have been eaten from the inside out (because of the citric acid) well, after all that you're eventually going to enjoy the damn things.
What am I getting at. Who knows. I have a spider behind my toilet (sometimes) and I write about him... I'm not exactly the most lucid person to be turning towards for insight into the human condition.
Well, here's something.
Life presents you with opportunities. You can either chase after those opportunities, and with winded breath be all awkward and really have nothing to say yet still say hi, or you can just let it keep on walking by.
Hey, how profane... yeah. I'm deep.
The thing is you can sieze an opportunity or let it go and keep wondering "what if". The "what if" is safe, and there's no risk, and yet if you to take a chance, well, even if things don't work for you, at the very least you can say you're not a pussy.

It's POPEMANIA in Toronto
and all anyone can talk about is Catholics, Catholics, Catholics.
I'm sorry, I really don't bare anyone ill will, but when the shitty Canadian morning shows interview all these devout fanatics who seem to think they're Jimmy Swaggart and that every non-Catholic needs to be "saved" well... why don't I just shut the tele off?
Hey, good plan.
Less bitching that way.
Let's give three cheers for less bitching... HIP HIP HOORAY! HIP H..ip...hoo...ray? sorry.

ah, idiots
I was taking in Hayden's live double-album last night, and during "Middle of July" - which is a low key, very slow, quiet, sombre relationship song - some guy screamed something out really loud during the middle of the song. Kay, that's not annoying.
Now, I don't wanna go off on a rant here (thanks Dennis Miller) but these guys really piss me off. You know these guys who can't sit still long enough to get a proper haircut (what), these guys who can't be bothered to wipe their mouths while eating watermelon (???), these guys whose mothers tried to sell them to a baby slave trade market when they were 14, and smaked them around afterwards cause they wouldn't play along... you know these guys.
Seriously, these are the guys who are loud and obnoxious all the time. They have no cognizant awareness of when something is serious or when being stupid is inappropriated. These are the guys who act this way to get attention, and if things become too quiet, they get nervous. These are the guys who can't stand to be at a concert because there's no attention on them. These are the guys who, when informed that the concert they're at is being recorded for a live album they say to themselves "I just got to get on there!" These are the guys who, ten years later, will be sitting listening to the album with their 6 year old, and when they hear themselves interrupting the quiet, tender song, the sit up proudly and say:
"Son, that was me!"
To which he replies: "Dad?"
"Yeah, son?"
"You're an asshole."

the lesson for the day
I love people who don't listen... chappity chappity, blak blak blak
Queen St. I'm heading west on my footie powered bycicle, a moto-cycle in front of me as we approach a three way intersection, the moto signalling a right turn (north) a car going east makes a move to turn left (north) as I'm pass around the moto. I notice the car's intent to continue with his turn, which would put me in the path to get hit, so I make a defensive manouver around the motorbike onto the sidewalk.
In my perception, in those quick seconds, I analyzed all my options and chose the path that wouldn't get me dead.
Well, mr. motorbike guy decided I did something wrong, and that I needed a lecture.
"Do you know what you're doing?" he asked.
"What?" I say, readjusting myself.
"Do you know what you're doing?"
"Yes, I.." cut off
"What were you doing." Okay "dad", let's get into it.
"I was..."
"You went around me," he said making a circular arm motion to his left.
"I.." cut off even quicker this time. So I said to myself, okay pops, give me your lecture.
"You're on a bicycle, obey the rules of the road, you're a vehicle, and there are rules." (meanwhile, let's not mention the traffic weaving he attempted all down Queen Street as I followed behind him, trying to squeeze between the left lane traffic and the parked cars... up until we passed the two moto-cops!!... yah, ok, please tell me the rules of the road there mister) "You're a big boy, act like it," he said as he made his right turn, not checking to see if any pedestrians were crossing or not. Thanks for the tip, big-guy.
Toronto is such a friendly town.
This is basically how it is. I'm a bike. I'm small, compact, and at times, barely noticeable. I have to look out for me, because noone else is, and I have to keep my eyes on the traffic, parked and moving, the pedestrians, and other bicycles, because noone's looking out for me.
I do stupid things sometimes when my mind wanders, which has, once in the past, resulted in me flying over my handlebars, which is a very interesting flight by the way. But 98% of the time, I know the deal, I know the drill, and when I move, I'm making the right move. When I'm driving I'm about 90%, so it's probably better that I'm biking downtown, rather than driving.
So, anyway, to that guy on the moto, thanks for your concern, and I just want to let you know, I know what I'm doing... you don't know what I'm doing, so keep yer yapper shut unless you really want to know.
signed - me

WYD
It's sounds like an acronym for, you know, drinking or something, but nah, it's just the flubbin World Youth Day that's got Toronto all a-talkin'.
Some of us have anger and bitterness towards our annoying Christian brethren, some of us have complete indifference, and then some of us want to join in and sing happy schmappy folk songs about some dude doing something wonderful and making us feel all good and shit. Way to go, Jesus! I owe you a beer.
Me, I'm kinda on a rotating basis with my spirituality. I have a spiritual side, but I don't really contemplate it too much (my navel is just as interesting). My "beliefs" as they were, kind of change on a day to day basis depending on what information is presented to me.
Today, well, I'm worshipping the holy crux of Saint Cheesburger of Down the Street at the Black Bull. Mmm, gobs of meat slathered with cheese, the way God intended.
Biking home yesterday I almost sideswiped and envoy of walking WYD clones who didn't have the sensibilty to get off the street and onto the sidewalk. For my discourteous scowl, they raised their flag and cheered.
Hooray for... what the hell kind of flag was that. Must be one of them "republics" I keep hearing about.
And biking to work today, not only was there tonnes more traffic because of streets being closed off for WYD, but there was a major oil spill on the expressway, forcing even more traffic onto Queen street. And then, the buses and streetcars were even slower than usual, and packed fuller than a sheeps bladder at the Haggis Pinata Company. It was funny because every stopped bus I passed, and I passed a lot of them, was pouring WYD flunkies out like a clown car at a rodeo clown convention (?sorry, that was lame). Seriously, it was like one of those "magic" scarves, where they keep yanking and it keeps coming out. Fantastic.
All of these WYD people are carrying around flags, symbolic of their pride not only for their religion but for their country. Well good for them.
My only question... where are all the Chinese WYD people?
(and to anwer before you ask, yes, I think I'm funny.)

Kangaroos fucking rock
...they do!

who crapped in my cornflakes this morning
holy bitch mode... just rereading my last post. Can we say sour grapes... vino to vinegar g.
crazy. I should remember to take my pills. Well, first I need to start taking some pills, then forget to take the pills, then remind myself to take them... yeah!
The Amazing Mr. Faux-Mo is in NY right now, so he's been emailing me long distance (instead of from the next desk over at work, emailing me whilst talking to me.. man, that is so meta).
Today he questioned my sourness towards the old-school bicyclette:
"with only one gear, there's less parts and less points of breaking... that and people don't have to go that fast at all either"
oh, pish... everyone wants to go fast, just no one's figured out how to look good doing it.
except maybe those speed skaters, rrrowr.

also...
mr. faux sent me
this link to Heartless Bitches International, in specific, to a page talking about why "nice guys" really should finish last.

I think I'm getting a hint about something here... do I really bitch about it that much? Hey, I'm only kidding around. Self-deprication is my favorite form of humour.
"Beat 'em to the punch," my ol' Gran would say, "either beat 'em to the punch, or beat 'em with a punch... or twenty" and then she would cackle maniacally whilst beating the tar out of a pie shell with a rolling pin. Ah, Gran... where are you now?

Anywho, yeah, I'm a "nice guy" (in the sense that I'm generally polite, I say "I'm sorry" and mean it when I do something stupid, and I don't kick puppies), I've been told I'm attractive (although I have learned to take the compliment, I still don't believe it, stemming from admitted adolescent insecurities, and a love of Jos Louis cupcakes...mmm), and I don't date much. I may bitch about it, but it's my choice. I don't like to spend time thinking and worrying and going through all that beginning a relationship stuff with people I know aren't the right ones (and believe me, you know which ones are the wrong ones right away.. the right ones are harder to figure out).
I have other things to think about besides hurting someone's feelings... and trust me, I worry way too much over that kind of stuff... we're all sensitive creatures... like the kangaroo (did I mention Kangaroo's fucking rock! they do.)

Plus, "dating" wasn't really something that went on when and where I grew up... not in my social circles at least. It was always one date = the start of a relationship. But that was high-school, you got to know people beforehand for a long time before you decided you liked them (actually, it found out later that I had, in fact, went out on many dates with girls who I thought were just friends... who knew? I'm not quite that oblivious now...)
Yes, I know the big city is different, but it's hard to get out of that mindset when you meet someone you like.
Don't get me wrong, from the things I've said, I like getting to know people, and that's how I like to meet women I'm interested in... getting to know them first, figure things out over a duration... I don't know.. but then sometimes it just clicks right away. I'm sure I'm shooting myself in the ass with arrows here, which isn't an easy task, but I make it look fairly simple don't I?
Yup yup.

A quote from that page:
The guys who perpetuate the cry, "Women just don't like nice guys" are spending too much time feeling sorry for themselves. They are in truth, egotistical.
And, you know what, it may not be ego, but it's definitely self-centered.
And typically, most of these "nice guys" shelter themselves from social situations wherein they actually interact with women, spending too much time watching tv or surfing the net, completely unable to not only relate to the opposite sex, but anyone in general.
Let's get this straight though, it's been a helluva long time since I felt sorry for myself, and even longer since I've wanted people to feel sorry for me, so, when I say "pity me" sometimes on this page, I mean laugh at me and my silliness.. it's esoteric and misspelled.

More quotes:
They think they know about romance, but their timing is all wrong, and they either come-on too strong, too hard and too fast, OR, they are so shy and unassertive, that they hang around pretending to be "friends", in the hope that somehow, someway, they will get the courage up to ask her out for a "date".
I've been there... hopefully I've grown since then.
Who knows.
I don't know if there's a fine line between confidence and arrogance, or if it's just a big gap and I"m standing really far away.
At this stage in the game, I'm comfortable with myself, I know who I am, I have my neuroses, but they rarely get the better of me (except when I pull those Sex and the City marathons... never again!)... but we all have our neuroses.

Another pull:
"Another mistake Nice Guys make is to go after "hard luck" cases. They deliberately pick women with neuroses, problems, and personality disorders, because Nice Guys are "helpers". A Nice Guy thinks that by "helping" this woman, it will make him a better, more lovable person."
Hrm, I've used to find myself attracted to women with neuroses and personality disorders, but I don't think I'd ever go out with them, I know what it's like being at that stage, and it's not relationship time baby, it's time to focus on your own problems. I was attracted to them because I identified with them... I've been there (we've all been there), but I wouldn't have the patience to put up with the bullshit people dish out when their in that state... not right away, at least.

ultimately boils down to the fact that Nice Guys don't like themselves
It's true. That was me in high school.
Now, I love me. I give me a big hug every day, sometimes during yoga, and sometimes after I hug my computer. If I had a puppy, I'd hug him too. I like to hug.
Anyone wanna hug?
Aww, show Graiggy some love.

Get this Guys: INSECURITY ISN'T SEXY. IT'S A TURNOFF
Then explain Hugh Grant's schtick...
I guess I should stop following the Hugh model, and start following the John Cusak model... women love that guy... men love that guy... I love that guy... Next to Steve from Sex and the City, I think he'd be my other man-crush.

side tangent
listening to Hayden's "live at convocation hall" double album (out today! hey!).. and I'm just wondering... what the fuck's up with "the clap-a-long"... the sing along I get, the clap-a-long, unless prompted... jesus, maybe it just sounds lame and Neil Diamond-concertesque when you actually hear it on a recording.

return to niceguy ranch
looking over the "nice guy" stuff posted all over that Heartless-Bitches.com site, I really see a lot of how I used to think reflected in it... and I know that it really wasn't how I though, but how, when I was a younger lad, I thought I was supposed to think.
Thank god I learned and can now poke fun, and teach, others who havn't learned. Me a teacher...
aha
Is to laugh.
Heh.

Wow, I really don't have a wrap up to all this... dag, I wish I had a message board to sorta continue on this freaky topic... all about me!! Cause, you know, the world revolves around me... and Gringo, who is still missing... right, I forgot

another spider behind the toilet
you'll never guess who I saw behind there last night...
go ahead guess..
nope...try again... nope... again... nope... hey, put the knife down...
fine, it was "Steve Allen 1"... don't remember him? Well, SA1 has a tiny body and long spindly almost translucent legs...(he's not an actual spider, he's a variation of daddy-long-legs (harvestmen) which aren't arachnids but 8-legged arthropods (single body structure instead of two-part body structure (who says I don't know shit?)))
Anyway, I thought he was just a clump of hairs stuck in a web and I went to clean up, and he moved... so I left him, but he's gone now... alas.
I should rip that "We Got Steve Allen" song from Space Ghost... but not tonight.

song of the day
for yesterday (crap, spent too much time yappin about me)... uhh, here's enon: disposable parts

and for today... uhh
Printed Circuit: Diatomy
I just "discovered" this yesterday... really cool electro waves, hinting at SID stuff from C=64 era...

okay, bedtime, enough of me..

bicycle chic
riding to work today (well, actually, any time I ride my bike) I noticed the other cyclists I passed along the way.
All too many of them have these retro-Schwinn, 60's style one-speed, t-bar handled bikes that, even if you had the leg power, still wouldn't move very fast.
I'm imagining that most of these people are on their way to work, but at a snail's pace.
Really, wouldn't you rather have a mountain bike, or a ten-speed where you can really get moving and cut the time of your trip by a third to a half?
Really. Wouldn't you?
It really annoys me when people choose style over practicality.
Okay, I've gotten over the style vs practicality in both clothes and shoes (for the most part), but with things like cars, bicycles, electronics, flatware etc. you should really take what's better made, more convenient, or faster. Like taking the train instead of your car... quit "scene-ing" with your "beemer" asswipe.
And what about SUV's? These suburban gas chuggers whose upper-middle-class owners never load up with anything more than two weeks worth of groceries. The "SUV" the most popular, and most impractical vehicle seen everywhere in Toronto. You live in the fucking city, you pretentious ass, the biggest mountain you're going to climb is that pothole on Dupont.
Did I mention I really don't like cars much?
I don't like cars much.
Hope you caught that.
I know they have their place, but I figure in most big cities, cars could probably be eliminated. Delivery vehicles, taxis (I guess), buses, police... the essentials. Personal vehicles, f-off.
-end of line-

spotted, on my way home
guys, tossing a football, across Queen street, over traffic.
Who said Canadians aint smart.
If that thing goes in my car, I keep it.

song of the day
today's song of the day comes courtesy of our new hardcore friend Andy from across the waves:
Pretty Girls Make Graves: Speakers Push the Air
Yeah, it's hard, but it actually has a melody to it.

old wives tales
My right palm has been itching like mad. I knew it mean something in superstition land, but I wasn't sure what.
A quick hop, jump, and smack to Google gave me this nugget of wisdom:
This is one of the old wives tales that is dependent on where you live on what right or left means It may even be dependent on what your family branch believes! A quirky thing about superstitions about old wives tales and superstitions is that one region may beleive one way but a neighboring area may twist it or not beleive in the saying at all.

The money being paid out portion is hazy on what it refers to or appears open to interpretation. This could mean an unexpected debt coming your way, a loss of money or material items, or that the current financial situation will remain the same or feeling tighter.

So... I'm either going to have money or I'm going to spend money or lose posessions.
And I'm a pessimist, so I'm not happy.

am I... coming out?
just kidding.
I can't remember if it was here or in my "100 dumb things about me" list, but I mentioned my reoccurring dream of teeth shattering and splintering in my mouth... well, I may have an explanation, thanks to Candice who was doing the bad and watching talk shows:

I caught part of Montel today and he had on psyhic Syliva Brown, the only reason I continued to watch the show. Anyways, she said that people who dream about losing teeth, ie falling out, rotting, shattering, represents either a) insecurities and concerns about your apprearance and how you think others perceive you, b)some believe it could represent a fear of growing up and accepting responsiblity. But she said the common base between both thoughts, is that you have a fear of being exposed, not naked, but for who you really are. which can be either your looks or maturity.
I thought it was amusing as I remembered you telling me that you have this reoccuring dream of you teeth shattering.

Hey, I know I'm A Toy R Us kid... I just thought the teeth stuff was just anxiety about going to the dentist or something.
Silly me.

know your scalp...
shave your head.
it's fun.
Guaranteed I'll get my head rubbed at least once tomorrow...

new to the Jam Jar Jail
it's Billy-Bob the brown beetle.
Yes, I caught Billy-Bob lumbering his way across my newly opened (thanks to a bookshelf move) "living room", and well, he looked lost and kinda drunk... so I've stuck him in the Jam Jar tankard for the night. He seems happy crawling all over the little jungle gym I've set up in there.. we'll let him go in the backyard tomorrow.

let the music snobbery begin
by way of Jen's site, I came across this thang... a list of 100 albums to expunge from your cd collection...
I'm going to requote jen's quote (that's so meta, dude) without any sort of formatting

The entries on this list fall roughly into three categories:

* Critically bullet-proof artifacts whose weighty presence on the shelf is complimented perfectly by their perpetual absence from the CD player. Critic-mandated vanity archives should be bundled up and spirited off to the used record store under the cover of night.
I never got swept up by these kind of things, unless Gary's recommendations are critically bullet-proof...

* Albums by new artists that have only their newness and the marketing efforts of music conglomerates to recommend them. Almost invariably, these recordings pale in comparison to those of the artists they imitate. Alternately, new albums by established artists that are slavishly hailed as the big comeback get high points with us.
I'm either into the next big thing WAY before it's the next big thing, or well after it's already been the big thing... But, the one-hit wonders are why I stopped listening to the radio.

* Nostalgic favorites that maintain their place by tradition and neglect more than actual merit. These are the CDs people never get rid of because they may want to play them some time in the indefinite future (certainly not now).
I'm sure I have more than a few of these, but I've been slowly cleaning the dead weight.

Now, let's see what I have from the list:
-Beastie Boys: Paul's Boutique: I picked this up way after the fact (2 years ago) and find the rhyming rough, but the sound is great (Dust Bros. mostly)
-Beastie Boys: Hello Nasty: okay, I can listen to this repeatedly... it's really the only full Beasties album I like
-I had the Pulp Fiction soundtrack, and did get bored of it, and it's become kind of a cliche in the s.t. world
-The Roots: Things Fall Apart: they're right, it's a dull, unenticing album
-Kool Kieth: Black Elvis: again, uninteresting and dull for the most part, sometimes unlistenable
-Stereolab: Transient Random-Noise Bursts with Announcements: I have a lot of Stereolab albums, and regularly listen to none of them... what does that mean?
-Public Enemy: Apocalypse '91 - The Enemy Strikes Black: I just stole this from my sister a month or two back. I still have a great time with it, but it was the end of the line for PE
-Radiohead: I Might Be Wrong Live : yeah, I ripped my copy, and I only listen to it cause it has Hidden Cameras songs on the same disk.
-Tori Amos - Under the Pink : sure, not everyone's cup of tea... but she is my lemon zinger!
-Arrested Development - 3 Years, 5 Months, & 2 Days In The Life Of...: It's in a box somewhere 1400km away
-Ben Folds Five - Whatever and Ever, Amen: see above
-The Presidents of the United States of America - Self-titled : a guilty pleasure... we all have 'em

12/100, and really, what 8 bad eggs... not bad.
But there are others that are going to creep on that list: The Tenacious D album; almost all of Tricky's stuff; anything to do with the Simpsons (they're so played out!); the Star Wars soundtracks (does anyone actually pull those out and listen to them??? I've never owned them); 80% of all soundtracks or compilations turn to shit after a year...

The site is maybe doing a subsequent must have 100 list.
My votes: De La Soul: 3 Feet High...; A Tribe Called Quest (most will say Low End Theory, I say) Peoples Instinctive Travels...; Neutral Milk Hotel: In The Aeroplane Over the Sea; Underworld: Everything, Everything; The Magnetic Fields: 69 Love Songs; Shadowy Men on a Shadowy Planet: Sport Fishin' (or Dim the Lights, Chill the Ham); Soul Coughing: El Oso; Bjork: Homogenic; Trainspotting ST; Massive Attack: Mezzanine

One guy's opinion is another guy's problem.
I said that.
Me.
It's my quote.
Attribute fairly.

get him while he's hot...
bach'n it today for dinner. You see, I made too much spaghetti, and I knew it, so instead of doleing some out on a plate and the rest in a container, I just put it all in one tupperware bowl and am eating out of that... when I'm full, I'll put the lid on and eat the rest for lunch tomorrow.
Can you believe I'm still single? W o w.
Get me while you can ladies!!!

space for rent
in my head.
going cheap.

You know...
trying to move a bookshelf with over 600 pounds of books on it by myself was probably not the smartest thing I've ever tried to do...

song of the day
are there any songs about just being stupid or doing stupid things... that's what I need here.
Alas, I don't feel like thinking (obviously) so here's what's easy, and close by
Cornelius: Star Fruits Surf Rider