Wednesday, June 27, 2012

You Are Only Coming Through In Waves

I'm not an asshole.

Consider yourself judged.
Ok... sometimes I'm an asshole.

But, in this case, I consider it a public service. Which, in turn, makes this entire blog post a PSA.

So here it is. For those of you who constantly tweet, email, text, blog, and Facebook this stuff - lemme smack you upside the head with some (common) knowledge.

1. Sequence vs. sequins.

Examples of misuse:

"That old lady has bright pink sequence all over her dress!" 
Yeah. That lady is cool, and likes sequential outfits.

"My vacation photos are all out of sequins!"
Well then stop friggin' bedazzling your photos, asshat!

Word explanations:

Sequins - Shiny little things that were all over your mom's dresses in the 80's. And also on your outfits when you took dancing lessons as a kid, and jazz hands ruled your entire being. Ta-da.

Check out the sequence of these sequins.

Sequence: A following of one thing after another; succession. Also known as something that is neither shiny nor matching your tap shoes. Ya dig?

2. Conquer vs. concur

Examples of misuse:

"Math exams, I will concur you!"
How 'bout those English exams, eh Einstein?

"They say love is blind. I conquer."
Well, if you're conquering love, no wonder it's blind.

Word explanations:

Conquer: to gain or acquire by force of arm. Like this dude. He's all tough 'n shit.

Oh... hi. I conquer stuff.
Concur: to accord in opinion; agree. Not to forcibly take over something - that's not very agreeable at all, is it?

3. Should of/ Could of/ Would of vs. Should've/ Could've/ Would've

Example of misuse:

"We should of gone shopping today."
Yes. Let's all of. Because of is a verb. A sexy, sexy verb.

"I could of been a teacher."
You could of. I conquer. (That physically pained me to type.)

Word explanations:

"Should of" (etc.) does not exist. What you mean to say, my little monkeys, is "should've". Say it back to me, now. Should've. That's right.

It stands for "should have". Y'know... like how you "should have" paid attention in grade 3. Or "could have" asked a 5 year old what these words mean. And "would have" likely hit me in the face if I told you this in person.



Shoulda coulda woulda. But didn't.

I'm nowhere near done with this, so expect a follow-up post. But for now, my brain hurts.

Professor K, out.


Saturday, June 23, 2012

All These Fiends Want Teenage Meat

Weekend-tastic. Let it begin.


Yesterday became a Murphy's Law kinda day. Today had better be one hell of an improvement, or I'll start throwing throat-punches. Whose throats, I'm not quite sure...


So instead of a debaucherous Friday night, I stayed in to relax after a day of weirdness. A little movie action, some dog cuddles, and a mouth date with chips (thanks to Lays - and didja know that a lot of their flavours are gluten-free? Good to know while I await my allergy testing for all my stomach issues. Just in case.)


Today, however, is another story.

First off, I get a couple of days with my favourite guy in the world:


And then I get to spend  few hours with some of my favourite people.

You know our usual Full-Card Friday nights at Velvet Underground - this one is on a Saturday. Tonight, as a matter of fact. Gonna be a good one, so I hope to see you there.

I need a good time, so come have a beer (or rye, vodka... or water, or apple juice, whatever) with me and let's make this weekend a friggin' great one.

First weekend of the summer. Welcome to it, folks.

Thursday, June 21, 2012

These Lines Of Life Have Been Drawn & Can't Be Removed

The majority of people I know in Toronto are not originally from here.



I can count on one hand (maybe two) the amount of folks who were born 'n bred in the good ol' T.O. That's likely normal for bigger cities. We, the smaller city people, migrate here when looking for a bit of a change, or new opportunities.

But over the years I've noticed a lot of differences between people in Toronto and people in my hometown of St. Catharines, and many of the other cities like it. It's like there's a different mentality when you live in a major city; it's a different way of living.

A pretty familiar process in the smaller cities: Go to college/university. Fall in love. Buy a house. Have children. Repeat childbearing. Live long and prosper.

And, for the most part, everyone has all (or most) of these things accomplished before they hit the ripe old age of 30. If not? Well, they're a bit of a rebel. More power to 'em.


The Toronto way is different: People co-habitate often. They  may get married, but they also might break up. Either way, it's cool. Some have kids, but it's usually after the career is set and everything is in place. Independence is key. Some stay with the same job for 30 years; some switch paths yearly. It's all the norm. You're judged more by your neighbourhood than the size/type of property you own. Entrepreneurial spirit is valued. Everything is a competition, but everyone does their own thing at their own pace.

If you moved to Toronto (or any big city) from a smaller city or town, a quick look on Facebook will tell you exactly what I've said here.  Your hometown friends are likely inviting you to baby showers and weddings, while your big city friends are inviting you to launch parties and DJ nights. Different wavelengths - different expectations.

I'm not saying one is better than the other. They just aren't quite the same.


But I, for one, am quite happy to have both.

Because the only expectations I focus on are my own.

Monday, June 18, 2012

All These Things Into Position

Weekend mode is over, for most.

My weekends aren't usually that much different from my weekdays. I still work, but I try to include more "fun" things so that it gives some semblance of days off.


This past weekend was set to be a busy one.

A little NXNE action on Friday night after a long, tiring day. Saw bands at The Drake and the Burroughes Building. A dying phone battery means no good photos from that night - a little sad how a dead phone can make it feel like you've lost a limb, yet it's also kinda liberating to not be tied to the damn thing all the time.

But I digress.


Saturday was gonna be a good one.

Radiohead at Downsview Park. Finally, after a bajillion years (a roughly estimated number), I'd be seeing them. I was excited. But while walking Daisy in the park before getting ready to head down to the show, I got a text from Masuka:

"The stage collapsed at Downsview. Check if the show is still on before you go."


So, I immediately check in on Twitter. My feed was going nuts over the news, but no one knew for sure what the verdict was.

Finally, it was announced that the concert was cancelled. And as disappointing as that was for all 40,000 fans who were set to hit the show, it was much worse than that. There were people trapped under the stage, and later we found out that some had been injured, and one man had died.


Scott Johnson, Radiohead's drum tech, was killed in the stage collapse.

There still aren't details of how this happened or how it could've been prevented. This isn't the first incident like this - let's hope it's the last. Some words from Radiohead's site:

"We have all been shattered by the loss of Scott Johnson, our friend and colleague. He was a lovely man, always positive, supportive and funny; a highly skilled and valued member of our great road crew. We will miss him very much. Our thoughts and love are with Scott's family and all those close to him."

To Scott's family &  friends, and those who were injured in the collapse, the fans' thoughts are with you as well.












Thursday, June 14, 2012

I'm The Next Act, Waiting In The Wings

This past Saturday, I had the pleasure of seeing two of my friends tie the proverbial knot.

(Don't worry. No knots were harmed in the uniting of this pair.)



This photo may have turned out odd somehow (due perhaps to my face and the camera dueling to the death), but it shows that I managed to wear something that wasn't black - a rarity.

But no pink. Never pink.


Brought this guy as my wedding date.Why? Because he is polite and rarely late.

Mike's also my guitar teacher, so everyone should bug him to teach me how to be awesome-er. You know you wanna.


Babies. My weakness.

There's enough power in those chubby cheeks to render me useless and girly.



A reunion of some Proud FM folks, present, past, and way-way past.

I often miss working at that place, because it was full of the best people. Great memories.


Photobooth action is always a crowd-pleaser.

Does everyone have a "good side"? Because at first I was sitting on the wrong side. Then, when I rectified it, Masuka photobombed the last photo and distracted me from what may have possibly passed as a smile. That's my current excuse.

I failed.


Super duper happy for Mark & Michelle.




I am classy. Don't ever forget that.


I can only assume that in the photo above, Bob is telling Mike about the possible set list for our next night at Velvet Underground:

"Deftones, Pearl Jam, Beastie Boys, Depeche Mode, Nine Inch Nails...."


Ok, maybe he wasn't doing that.

But still. We're back at Velvet on June 23rd, and this one's a Special Saturday Edition of the Full-Card Party.

I expect to see you there, if only so I can show you how I breakdance. (Bring crutches.)


Who wouldn't wanna party with this wonk-eyed half-drunk weirdo?

And even if you don't, well... at least the tunes will kick ass.


Speaking of tunes... Mike, the aforementioned guitar-teachin', music-man-wedding-date, is working on an awesome new intro song for the ol' video blogs, so send in your weird and wonderful questions if you have them and I'll bug Masuka for some of his pervy insight.

Have a luvverly Thursday, folks.

Tuesday, June 12, 2012

Your Friends, Baby - They Treat You Like A Guest

Magazines & other media always perpetuate the idea that all women love a badboy.

Do we?



I think about that a lot. I suppose it's because I absolutely hate to admit that, for me, there is a slight bit of truth to it. Everyone I've dated has had their "bad" side. Some more than others. A certain few had bad sides that overtook the good and caused a lot of harm for me. And that's the very instant when many of us women say to ourselves "why can't I just find a good, decent man?"

Well... we can.

There are good guys everywhere, but we often overlook them because they don't stand out as much as their badboy counterparts. They're the ones that actually have conversations with you in a bar instead of drunkenly trying to impress you. They ask you how your day was, instead of talking only about themselves. They, most likely, are the ones you consider your friends.


So why do we often gravitate toward the ones who have a side that could potentially hurt us? They may be nice, sweet and thoughtful when they want to be... but there's an inner bit of trouble that often comes out. And yeah. We like it. But why?

The idea that women love dating a man they can try to fix has always bothered me. I don't want to fix any man. I want him to come pre-assembled and in working, functioning order. A few defects are fine; welcomed, even. But regular maintenance so that he'll become a different version of what I signed up for? Nah. I don't want to do any fixing, thanks. However, let's be honest - some women do. And men? You sometimes want to fix us as well.

I suppose the bad sides offer a bit of excitement, sometimes danger. It keeps things interesting. But there has to be a balance. For me, the badasses left some scars and regrets, and a wish for their sweeter sides to become more present. I worried that it became a case of always wanting the opposite of what I had - but it's not. It's about balance.


So, boys and girls... have no fear if you aren't a badass that stands out in a crowd, and potential mates are overlooking you. Keep your sweet side, but allow the wicked side to come out sometimes too. Because while many of us are dazzled by the danger, it's something that we can get burned by. All relationships need comfort and stability, but they need some excitement too. Embrace 'em both.

They say love is friendship on fire. We're all capable of that tricky balance - we just need to add the flames.

Wednesday, June 6, 2012

You Are My Center When I Spin Away

I've never had a particularly loving relationship with exercise.

Ok, so I hated it. Why the hell would I want to run around and sweat like a pig when I could sit comfortably on my ass and eat a Big Mac?

Ludicrous.

I'd like to thank my metabolism for allowing me to live this sedentary way for so long - but a good metabolism is a sneaky bitch. Sure, I didn't get fat. But I also didn't get strong. I was always fairly weak, but rarely gave more than a passing thought to that little issue.



So... what's changed?

Age, baby. Age.

The ol' metabolism is still fairly tip-top, but I'm aware that it won't always be. And when I realized that I can potentially become out of breath after walking half a block, I figured I was a waste of flesh.

So a few years ago, when I was co-habitating with an ex, we both joined the small gym across the street. Pushing each other would make us workout regularly, right? Wrong. It didn't last, and it's the only time I've ever joined a gym. I refuse.

Fast-forward to now: Do I exercise? Well, sorta. I walk Daisy for hours each day. You can say that it doesn't count, but I defy you. I also do a half-assed version of the Insanity workouts, changed enough so that I'm willing to do them. So, for me, that counts (it wouldn't for most people). But is it good enough?

Doing work with Train or be Trained has made me want to light a fire under my ass and get in awesome shape - the videos make me realize what a lazy-ass I am, and want to do something about it for once. Though I may still be thin for now, I have to get stronger. But I need to find something that fights my extreme exercise hate. And therein lies my problem.



So help me, Obi Wan... I mean... you guys.

How the hell do you exercise without hating every second of it?

Teach me your secrets. I'll give you candy.

Monday, June 4, 2012

Recall The Deeds As If They're All Someone Else's Atrocious Stories

Welcome to Monday, freaks 'n geeks.


It just dawned on me that although I had a fairly packed social weekend and saw quite a few friends, none of them were female. Other than strangers on the street, bars, or park, I haven't seen a single girl all weekend. Hell, not even throughout the week prior.

Is that weird?


I've always had substantially more male friends than female ones. 

It isn't an attraction thing, a dating thing, or a sex thing. I just seem to have more in common with men, and appreciate the lack of catty behaviour and drama. It's the same reason the few female friends I have are usually also that way - laidback, and not in competition just because they're female.


That said, being "one of the dudes" can bring some negative side effects at times. Not every guy will always appreciate dating a girl whose closest friends happen to be male. And some women automatically dislike all girls who have men as their best friends.

Again... the competition aspect of being a woman. The worst part, I'd say.


All that said, I have some amazing female friends and wish I saw them more.

I hold onto the good ones. They know who they are.



But I suppose I'll always be content with the ease of hanging out with guys, and fully embracing my non-girly side. I can't be bothered to give a shit when others aren't overly happy about it.

And what about you?

Are your friends mostly the same, or opposite sex? A good mix of both?  Does it matter?

Or do you not have any friends yet, and are looking to rent some?

I know a guy, if that's the case.


I'm interested to hear other people's opinions on this one. We've gotten into the discussion about whether men and women can "just be friends", and maybe this falls under that category in some ways.

So get on the soapbox, it's ready for ya.



And let's not forget that although guys make amazing friends - I love bitches, too.

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