tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-350063542024-03-18T22:57:34.220-04:00The Free ThinkerWho do you want to be today?Threnodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04354906620264648893noreply@blogger.comBlogger84125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35006354.post-3279642952908763892007-10-03T12:50:00.000-04:002007-10-03T13:42:54.487-04:00One year in Toronto part 1: The moveThe execution was haphazard at best. I'd planned to save up a few grand over the summer to execute the move in proper style, but that was my first party summer, and there just never seemed to be enough money. I saved $1,000 in May and June and virtually nothing more by the end of September.<br /><br />As a result, plans had to change. Instead of having $3,000 saved, I had $1,000 and a fresh new VISA. Instead of an apartment, I was staying with a "friend" I barely knew until I landed a job. Instead of moving in the traditional sense, brought two suitcases and two knapsacks, with everything else thrown into storage in Ottawa.<br /><br />Usually this is the sort of half-assed plan hatched by starry-eyed 19 year-olds, who end up giving up and moving home once they've blown through their savings and their parents' generosity. In my case, there was really no home to go back to.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://flickr.com/photos/sandrino/1435335841/"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJiXaHlzKgE0wPwYWRUrb84wdUlLFiU4UXIjfaK_J7-yiSjSJymWqj4WXfBVDXk_EShhTk9YLTjPv7-1xD5TELFl4Sp6vtYoGlBDQkp7vqWMV1GWoXiQ-lAgugCT5AhHKhXTfnig/s400/Toronto-Love.jpg" border="0" /></a>Everything I considered home was in Ottawa, and the apartment I had there was gone. Even if I wanted to move back, as a dirty unilingual I'd never be able to land a job that paid as well as the (awful) one I left behind. That's why I had to leave in the first place. It was all fucking scary, because failure would mean moving to a dying town of 500 with my grandparents who, while loving, would rather play golf than take care of their 23 year-old grandson.<br /><br />I left for Toronto in late September. Six <i>very long</i> weeks, and countless job interviews later I landed a job that paid less than I was making in Ottawa, but didn't make me want to die, and an awful bachelor apartment I could afford. By the time February rolled around I decided it wasn't worth living on my own if I could only afford a shoebox, and moved to a nicer place with roommates.<br /><br />I didn't have the money or the logistical ability to move all my crap from Ottawa until the ex moved here as well. From September 25 until May 1, I lived out of those two suitcases. By then I'd almost forgotten that I actually owned any furniture and it felt like Christmas to bring all this niceish Ikea crap into my apartment. In essence, it took me seven months to move to Toronto. In the interim I was in purgatory.<br /><br />This isn't a sob story. Those long, dark moments. The stress. The loneliness. It was all worth it, and I wouldn't trade it for anything. More than a testament to me, it's a testament to Toronto. My life here isn't perfect. I still make less than I made in Ottawa. The financial outlook isn't what it should be. But it's hard to be pessimistic in this city. There's an energy, an optimism here, as if the city is telling me to hold on and everything will be alright.<br /><br />Because now this is my city.<br /><br />A toast to you, Toronto. I don't regret a thing.<br /><br /><small><i>Image courtesy of <a href="http://flickr.com/photos/sandrino/">sandrino</a>.</small></i>Threnodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04354906620264648893noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35006354.post-51419858523339052722007-09-24T16:31:00.000-04:002007-09-24T16:41:43.937-04:00An open letter to Starbucks® regarding the excessive ice in my iced coffee<i>Re: Excessive Ice</i><br /><br />Dear Starbucks,<br /><br />I have enjoyed your drinks for many a year. During the summer, my favourite has always been your iced coffee. The fusion of your usual euphoria-inducing, caffeine-loaded coffee mixed with a soothing cool temperature is just perfect for those hot summer days.<br /><br />Alas, I've noticed lately that you've been going heavy on the ice, and light on the coffee. I don't know when this happened exactly, but it seems I finish a grande a heck of a lot faster than I used to. I've attached a picture of last Saturday's coffee after consumption, for illustration.<br /><br /><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihGg992_53j5G2HJxyyCEr0LpYvDJpBuslC3qgDS032lG6lKfHyvDVBO4tEDihKw-s32R4Lt2r01QJoKPXEh1tAuQqz54uOfH3IRUhBLyvzzxclXieWEUJowz2ZaAXScbFVlFliw/s400/DSC01199.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5113871839855890434" />As you can see, the ice takes up a little more than half the volume of the cup. Now, let's consider for a moment what the ideal amount of ice in an iced coffee would be. The purpose of the ice, of course, is to keep the beverage cool on the aforementioned hot days. So, ideally, the ice should be completely melted by the time I'm finished drinking. I understand you brew the iced coffee more strongly than your regular coffee, such that as the ice melts to dilute it, it will match the strength of a standard warm coffee. If this is the case than a drink left with excessive ice can be considered a failure, because one of two things has happened, neither of which is desirable:<br /><ol><li>The consumed coffee was too strong because all of the ice, compensated for during brewing, did not melt during consumption.</li><li>All the ice was not compensated for, so the ice is taking up volume that could be used for more crack...err, I mean coffee.</li></ol>Now don't get too upset, Starbucks. This isn't a Dear John. I'm not mad. We're still friends. I'm just letting you know, as I might notify a friend of their bad breath or a stray booger. Your staff are friendly and personable. Your washrooms are clean and convenient. But no relationship is perfect. Just make it right, and all will be forgiven.<br /><br />Sincerely,<br />AdamThrenodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04354906620264648893noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35006354.post-75929171945458285522007-09-22T16:27:00.000-04:002007-09-22T16:55:50.491-04:00I knew I was tempting fate when I bought that twelve pack of condomsSeven weeks. Forty-nine days. One thousand one hundred seventy-six hours...since I’ve had sex.<br /><br />Oh sure, I’ve gone this long before. But I don’t think I’ve ever gone this long without <i>trying</i>. The more observant, homosexual and Canadian among you may notice that Montreal Pride was seven weeks ago.<br /><br />Let’s just say that I did something...out of character. Something a lot of gay men do. But it wasn’t me.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgynRPvtLkizM6jnWhDa-jP2ICblSyLtfvYCMF_5JtpkCVfLmz368DgDeosSh9t9qrV8luM2-tPzaEnk-Z3PmfFU1M2n2YlwkCauD3NaeF91t6gdDw2ni-Q0aMCpg93vsbPqm7sBQ/s1600-h/No+Sex.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgynRPvtLkizM6jnWhDa-jP2ICblSyLtfvYCMF_5JtpkCVfLmz368DgDeosSh9t9qrV8luM2-tPzaEnk-Z3PmfFU1M2n2YlwkCauD3NaeF91t6gdDw2ni-Q0aMCpg93vsbPqm7sBQ/s400/No+Sex.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5113129063916752866" /></a>I haven’t dwelled on the event itself, but it made me feel like such a nasty, carnal beast that I resolved to make myself feel human again. It worked.<br /><br />But something unexpected happened. Going chaste seems to have *gasp* made me happier. See the thing is, sex <i>can</i> be great. But most of the time it’s awkward, or rushed, or sloppy, or just plain awful.<br /><br />But I kept coming back for more. Because I went out, I took too much G, and suddenly getting laid seemed like a mission. But the truth is hunting down sex is <i>fucking stressful</i>. And with that stress out my mind I have the emotional energy to actually enjoy my life. There’s also some satisfaction that comes from knowing I’m in control of my hormones.<br /><br />Not to worry gay world, I am far from done with intercourse. But it would seem that, for the time being, I’m done with <i>random</i> intercourse. If somebody really wows me I’ll go for it. But the bar has certainly been raised.<br /><br />I look back on the people I’ve been with, and even the people I’ve wanted to date, and I wonder what the hell I was doing wasting time with those losers.<br /><br />Screwed over once again by hopeless romanticism. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to head off to the gym. When the time comes to re-break my man-hymen I want to be ready.<br /><br /><small><i>Image courtesy of <a href="http://flickr.com/photos/tim_d/">tim_d</a>.</small></i>Threnodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04354906620264648893noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35006354.post-46973751662003659812007-05-28T09:42:00.000-04:002007-05-28T10:01:18.354-04:00You can't spell misogyny without gym<i>Alright so I broke my promise. I'm so sorry blogland. You just can't compete with summer.<br /><br />But since today is a holiday in the US (where all our clients are), but not in Canada (where we are), I am at work...with nothing to do. What better time to get back in the groove? However, I'm going to stay away from the heavy stuff until I'm back in better blogging shape. I therefore bring you: the signs that I go to a gay gym.</i><br /><br />Now just as there's more to being gay than <i>really liking penis</i>, there's more to a gay gym than having a primarily gay clientelle. No, the gay gym drips in gayness, even without any homosexuals present.<br /><br />My gym is gay because:<br /><ul><li>It has three calf machines that see almost no use, yet three ab machines and an ass machine that are in near-constant use. My last two gyms had neither ass nor ab machines.<br /><li>It has a <i>hair gel dispenser</i> and two handheld hair dryers in the change room.<br /><li>It has a separate women-only weight room to keep all the pussy out of the sausage party.<br /><li>The few straight guys that come always bring their girlfriends...and kiss them constantly to reinforce their heterosexuality.<br /><li>It is, quite literally, right behind <a href="http://flynightclub.com">Fly</a>, the most gayest gay club evar.<br /><li>Everybody there is in really good shape. As if they bulked up at a "normal" gym first to prepare themselves.<br /><li>To work out there is to checked out non-stop...and to like it.<br /><li>The change room has ten showers with doors and one without. Guess which one gets used the most.<br /><li>Last month a bunch of posters went up trying to sell personal training sessions. The tag line: "Get in shape for pride!"<br /><li>Guys are constantly pulling up their shirts to check out their abs.</ul>And finally:<br /><ul><li>There's not a sauna, because, well, do I really have to explain this one? A gay gym with a sauna would soon end up being used as a discount bathhouse.</ul>That's it for now folks. Let's hope I can get back in the habit!Threnodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04354906620264648893noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35006354.post-81015493653427877602007-05-03T13:14:00.000-04:002007-05-03T13:15:34.272-04:00Risen from the deadIn case anyone has been wondering, I'm not dead or anything. Life has been...hectic. I promise to update you all on my latest hijinx by the end of the week.Threnodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04354906620264648893noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35006354.post-1185904712286218662007-04-18T13:32:00.000-04:002007-04-18T15:31:08.031-04:00You can check out any time you want, but the herpes will never leaveA lot of my friends have been sucked into the Facebook black hole. Quite frankly, I find it merely okay. It's nice for screwing around for 10 minutes, but that's about it. Of course today it's been more interesting than normal. My Facebook inbox had a nice little note from some dude I don't know, who presumably messaged everyone in the <a href="http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=2230171280">Gay Toronto group</a> I joined for no reason in particular. Take a look at this thing:<blockquote>HOTEL PARTY REMINDER<br />OVER 100 FUCKIN HOT DUDES<br /><br /><br />Hey…we are having another party!!!! …this one will be at a downtown hotel….we are just finalizing the hotel and will let everyone know the hotel and location tomorrow……over 100 fuckin crazy hot horny guys…guys gone wild!!!!… The last house party was awesome, with over 40 amazing hot horny guys…this one over 100 guys…if you’re up for a fucking hot anything goes night this is IT…. We will see you at This Friday Night’s Party at 11:00 P.M.!!!!<br /><br />GUYS…. BE REAL! BE 19 to 40, BE DECENT SHAPE (height/weight proportionate), BE COOL, BE FUN, BE OPEN MINDED & BE READY to bust loose & have fun...<br /><br />Cool Fun hot crazy horny guys…gay, bi dudes hanging out, chilling, beers, drinks…420….and doing anything guys want to do….its up to you!<br /><br />Always a good idea to bring anything you may want to drink. Have a few beers here for guys who didn’t pick anything up….<br /><br />A great way to meet some real cool fun guys…get into some real hot man on man……THE HOTEL LOCATION WILL BE RIGHT IN THE DOWNTOWN CORE<br /><br />We will send the hotel info, address, directions and all the details..........upon check-in on Friday around noon we will send out the actual room number or call our cell contact number for a recording with the room number….<br /><br />See you on Friday for an unforgettable fucking awesome night!!!</blockquote>Yeah I'm afraid I'll have to send my regrets. Blind dates are bad enough, but blind hotel orgies? Sounds like a scheme for a bunch of old overweight creeps to lure a few fit, naive youngins over, get them smashed, and pass 'em around. The relative unattractiveness of the host underscores the danger in attending such a sordid affair.<br /><br />I'm extremely curious about the identity of the kind gent who's financing the hotel room though. And extremely sorry for the poor cleaning lady that will have to clean up after this thing.<br /><br />This is why I reserve orgies for trusted acquaintances only.<br /><br /><small>* Just kidding, I really am more of a one-on-one guy. The ride may run frequently, but there's only seating for one.</small>Threnodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04354906620264648893noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35006354.post-40498081032557272762007-04-11T17:25:00.000-04:002007-04-12T00:09:24.460-04:00Forbidden fruitI broke a promise to a close friend this week.<br /><br />See, way back in the day Meaghan made me promise that I would <i>never, ever</i> date another Adam. I guess having her friend Ryan dating another Ryan was stressful enough.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Adam"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip3LydAipYKgPiGUft6AHiZKezxumrDFhDaKQUXasaEV9ePk8fLy3eNmcl65IvTHotWdLI2eaEl1UeiYIkibDfJYQoPwiAcaimCDwbe_1uAXRMzZR_vbRJDFBO5xuKSeU8wqXDpA/s400/2adams.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5052285024087792658" border="0" /></a>I'm so sorry Meaghan. But he's just too hot. However, I will admit that it takes some getting used to. I'm usually one to say a partners name during intimate moments and, well, needless to say I <i>won't</i> be doing that in this instance. In my brain he sort of...has no name. And every so often I'll remember his name is Adam and consider how weird it is.<br /><br />Anyways last night we had a date and it went pretty well. In fact, isn't this <i>more likely</i> to go well because we have the same names? That's like Harding's Law or something, right?<br /><br />Having the same name led to a very cute event at dinner last night, at least. He was checking his phone, then turned it and showed me that he'd named me "Cute Adam" in the phonebook. Then I pulled out my phone and showed him that I'd named him "Hot Adam." It was quite the little moment.<br /><br />Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to found a gay Garden of Eden. All we need now are a couple of Steves and a really hot straight guy to act as the forbidden fruit.<br /><br /><small><i>Image courtesy of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Adam">Wikipedia</a>.</i></small>Threnodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04354906620264648893noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35006354.post-51413121758772302262007-04-10T14:30:00.001-04:002007-04-10T14:30:58.713-04:00Grind of war<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/41/122227943_c2ab745c2e_m.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 245px; height: 243px;" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/41/122227943_c2ab745c2e_m.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Grinding is very accurately named. In fact, it's a lot like the picture on the right. Take something benign looking and put it through the grind, and the result is something nasty looking that nobody needs to see.<br /><br />Now some of you might remember that it was scarcely a year ago that I scandalously took a trick I met at Stereo (who is now a close friend, incidentally) and essentially dry fucked him <i>on the back stage</i>. However, today I'm a more mature clubber and I'm here to tell you that it ain't right.<br /><br />Now that I can actually dance worth a crap I'd much rather <i>dance with a guy</i>. And, truth be told, if he's got some good moves I'm going to be much more attracted to him anyways. If he grabs my waist and tries to pull me toward him he'd better be <i>smoking</i>, because that's two strikes right there.<br /><br />Sometimes I can tolerate it. Grinding at Fly is just a fact of life. And at Pride, well, it's all about boys. But keep grinding out of my beloved Comfort Zone. It's a <i>dancer's club</i> people! It's not a pickup club. We don't need to see groping on the dance floor, let alone a <i>five-person grind sandwich</i> like I saw this past weekend.<br /><br />I'm not even saying you can't have your fun at the Zone. Hell, there are seats and dark corners everywhere. I've been known to partake myself. Have at it.<br /><br />But the Zone is a mixed club and you're giving our people a bad name when you act tactlessly. Why not show off some of our stereotypically impressive dance moves instead?<br /><br /><small><i>Image courtesy of <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/secretlyironic/">Secretly Ironic</a>.</small></i>Threnodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04354906620264648893noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35006354.post-9512120212497275332007-04-09T11:15:00.000-04:002007-04-09T12:08:04.314-04:00The rumor mill grinds up another soulGossip is a standard part of any community. Inevitably as people get to know one another they start passing on rumors about each other. The Comfort Zone gay subculture is one such community, with the hardcore comprising perhaps 100 people. I guess sooner or later people were bound to start talking about me.<br /><br />I'm sort of used to being in the background. I guess I've never really thought of myself as gossip-worthy, save during the big outing of 2001. Well dear readers, I've hit the gossip scene with a bang. I was chatting to someone last night when the bomb dropped.<br /><br /><i>"I heard that you're doing porn now."</i><br /><br />Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat!? This is worse still because it came from one of the few people in Toronto whose opinion I actually care about. Let me go on the record now to state that Adam has not done porn. Boys who work full-time and do porn do not have empty bank accounts. In fact, if things were THAT dire I'd probably start selling drugs before I'd do porn. But don't worry, it won't come to that. It's sort of a which-limb-would-you-lose type of situation. Neither option is particularly appealing.<br /><br />So where the hell does a rumor like this come from? I'll admit that with my hair now at visible-scalp level shortness I do have a generic, if popular look. Perhaps a case of mistaken identity? Or is someone deliberately trying to sabotage me?<br /><br />The worst part is, it makes me look back at people I saw a lot of potential with whose attitudes suddenly changed and wonder if maybe <i>they heard it too</i>. This is the kind of rumor you just can't quash. I can't very well go around asking everyone if they heard my false porn rumor and really truly honestly it's not true and please tell everyone because it's just really embarrassing...can I? It'll just make things worse.<br /><br />So essentially, I'm getting all the negative stigma of doing porn with none of the benefit$. Gay Toronto 69, Adam 5.Threnodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04354906620264648893noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35006354.post-85953699264180503682007-04-09T09:54:00.000-04:002007-04-09T10:23:36.797-04:0011 signs Adam is sketchy at work<ol><li>His verbal diarrhea is suddenly replaced by verbal constipation.</li><li>His internal monologue is suddenly externalized. He's heard muttering to himself throughout the day.</li><li>When asked how his weekend was, he emits a loud moan and goes back to what he was doing.</li><li>He glares at his coworker when "Manic Monday" comes on her radio.</li><li>The bags under his eyes are large enough to double as change purses.</li><li>He's 10 pounds lighter than he was on Friday.</li><li>He fell asleep on the subway to work...standing up.<br /></li><li>His voice sounds exactly as you'd expect after yelling for 16 straight hours.</li><li>He's constantly texting some random dude he met over the weekend.</li><li>He <a href="http://pages.citebite.com/a1t5h0y9q1kgs">slightly alters</a> the lyrics while singing along to "Sexy Back"<br /></li><li>He absentmindedly puts his water bottle in his back pocket as he walks about the office.</li></ol>Threnodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04354906620264648893noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35006354.post-49292161412195709132007-04-03T23:54:00.000-04:002007-04-04T00:39:42.140-04:00A middle finger pointed at the CN tower<!--Going to a club for friendship is sort of like using a rental car for transportation. It's comfortable, it's new, but it's very temporary. I've met so many people that I'll never see again. The problem is, you're constantly meeting so many people that someone really needs to stand out somehow to make keeping in touch seem worthwhile.<br /><br />I've been here since September, and I met the few friends I have in <i>Montreal</i> for crap's sake.<br /><br />The gay scene here is just so damn cliquey. Everyone has their little group and they pretty much don't want to let anyone in. At least that's the way it seems. It's all very high school actually. I'm no longer the geek that hangs out in the library, but instead I'm the loaner that everyone likes well enough, but never gets invited to the parties. Or something.<br /><br />I don't get how these things work. Am I supposed to somehow <i>earn</i> my way into your group or something? Because I don't play that game. I think it's demeaning.<br /><br />I don't want any more empty fucking acquaintances. But really, this isn't a new problem. News flash folks, -->"Adam doesn't fit in."<br /><br />I am a perpetual outcast. Until age 19 or so this was largely due to extreme social immaturity and high-level loserdom. Today I've come to realize that I'm sort of a scene-spanner.<br /><br />In high school I was too keen while everyone else coasted. In university I was too blasé as everyone else was keen.<br /><br />Too pragmatic for the intellectual scene. Too intellectual and introspective for the club scene. Too trusting to be in Toronto.<br /><br />The bottom line is: people just don't get me, especially here.<br /><br />I'm an individualistic person in a very cliquey city. I dance my ass of at the pick-up club. I'm too wordy, too thoughtful, and above all else, too honest.<br /><br />Toronto I am so sorry that I refuse to play the game. To sit back and look disinterested. To never smile. I'm sorry that I tell people when I like them, that I'm honest about myself. I'm sorry I refuse to pursue someone all night, and instead just tell them they're cute. I'm sorry I'm real. I'm sorry that I thought that, just maybe, people might like a friend that's not exactly like them.<br /><br />Oh wait, no I'm not. Fuck you Toronto.Threnodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04354906620264648893noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35006354.post-16723088691796590472007-03-26T16:15:00.000-04:002007-03-26T16:47:15.205-04:00Only Wesley Crusher can save me nowSo dear <a href="http://planetskybar.blogspot.com/index.html">Jeff</a> asked me how the weekend went, and I figured I might as well just throw together a post.<br /><br />It was really freaking fun. It wasn't particularly busy, but by <a href="http://www.flynightclub.com/">Fly</a> standards th DJ was quite good. I danced my ass off, and brought a boy home. It was my first drug sex in a while. That's unfortunate because drug sex is amazing, but fortunate because <i>it makes me want to die the next day</i>.<br /><br />If you've never had sex on E, you really owe it to yourself to give it a shot. A back massage on E is better than sober sex, so you can imagine what the sex is like. Just don't plan on doing anything, feeling anything, eating anything, caring about anything or talking to anyone the next day.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqwhbESothMp0DYcGH1c3LEpWQRMh6pMp4ISLdoGyv4EFYl9KIt3N54tv70EY6Ncis9_vhTCRxkIB1xyPhCiwges5wfBCr7nUhGbCheob1rVVhsLbmqhfFhEdvyqIdusqeU1DHNQ/s1600-h/sttng.asp.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqwhbESothMp0DYcGH1c3LEpWQRMh6pMp4ISLdoGyv4EFYl9KIt3N54tv70EY6Ncis9_vhTCRxkIB1xyPhCiwges5wfBCr7nUhGbCheob1rVVhsLbmqhfFhEdvyqIdusqeU1DHNQ/s400/sttng.asp.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5046336116772829954" /></a>Did you ever see that episode of Star Trek: TNG where Data keeps dreaming about the crew with straws in their brains? That's sorta how I feel right now. Like someone is sucking my brain out through a straw.<br /><br />It also doesn't help that my work is a nice oven of unbearable humidity and stagnant air today. It's one of those lovely 70s era buildings has no circulation and is probably growing mold like Vancouverites grow pot.<br /><br />Regardless, the weekend served its therapeutic purpose, for the most part. Of course it's hard to feel attractive when you keep visualizing yourself vomiting, but I'm closer than I was on Saturday.<br /><br />Taking next weekend off would be advisable, but I've got a friend coming from out of town. Then the weekend after is Easter <i>and</i> a friend's birthday. In other words, I've got another couple of rough Mondays ahead of me.<br /><br />What a depressing thought. Now where did I leave that extra pill?<br /><br /><small><i>Image courtesy of <a href="http://sttng.epguides.info">Star Trek episode guides</a></small></i>Threnodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04354906620264648893noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35006354.post-55574331334437399032007-03-24T21:12:00.000-04:002007-03-24T21:22:18.934-04:00Soma time<blockquote>Mirror mirror on the wall<br />Tell me why you make things fall<br />Mirror mirror look at me<br />Tell me why we disagree - <i><a href="http://www.strawberries.com/">The Wild Strawberries</a></i></blockquote>I, like most people, spend a decent amount of time looking in the mirror. Here's what I've come to realize: When I look at other people I see what is physically there. I can tell what looks good and what doesn't. I can spot improvement or neglect. But when I look at myself in the mirror, what I see is more a reflection of how I <i>feel</i> about myself than anything.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9smEAFqiqoH1jEg5sbJpkK4bmdU6Kchv1Pp5qaeucMq-HM_V_SbErHk5FPsfYMUAWMTpofiZrfPwu6Wmcl1NoQXcRRbdO7LE4kprLFzjWqZJVoxMMMs40Oxs1GjTw2z7_VhC1hQ/s1600-h/Spock001.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9smEAFqiqoH1jEg5sbJpkK4bmdU6Kchv1Pp5qaeucMq-HM_V_SbErHk5FPsfYMUAWMTpofiZrfPwu6Wmcl1NoQXcRRbdO7LE4kprLFzjWqZJVoxMMMs40Oxs1GjTw2z7_VhC1hQ/s320/Spock001.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5045665649460282114" /></a>Today I'm depressed. And when I look in the mirror I feel ugly.<br /><br />There's not an ounce of rationality in that feeling. Which is why it's pretty much impossible for me to change it. I'm not a Vulcan.<br /><br />Now on to the good part: As a druggie I can engage in a practice called <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Self-medication">self-medication</a>. It's the proverbial patients running the asylum. Or, giving the prescription pad to the hypochondriac.<br /><br />Is this a good thing or not? In the past it's been a good way to let off some steam and I'll feel better for a while after. In other cases I come home and crap on myself for doing drugs for the wrong reasons.<br /><br />Of course a lot of people lose themselves in the cycle of drugs and depression, but I've managed to dodge that so far and I'm not nearly as stupid as I was this time last year. The danger has passed.<br /><br />So I have access to a drug that will make me happy, pretty much no matter what. Whether it's good or bad, once you have the option it's difficult to turn it down.<br /><br />Hell, I've been well behaved these past few weeks. I'm going to go out, dance my ass off and feel good. I can weigh the moral implications tomorrow.<br /><br /><small><i>Image courtesy of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mr._Spock">Wikipedia</a>.</i></small>Threnodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04354906620264648893noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35006354.post-29685851497812076102007-03-24T13:52:00.000-04:002007-03-24T13:55:18.156-04:00Get laid or die tryingOh man I loooove making up new words. So let's say you're a gay man who's sleeping around a lot. Like, a lot. You're not using protection, and of course you're in Toronto so that's pretty much begging for HIV. What are you?<br /><br />You're a suiskank.<br /><br /><b>Genius!</b> Now I'll just sit back and wait for the honorary degrees to start rolling in.Threnodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04354906620264648893noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35006354.post-76411777711386696122007-03-23T13:37:00.001-04:002007-03-23T15:16:39.657-04:00La fraudaSo I noticed I'd lost my VISA the other day. I've lost my driver's license and my debit card many times, but this is the first time I've lost a credit card. Anyways, assuming this was no big deal I rang up CIBC to let them know. They started running down the charges on the card.<br /><br /><i>"Did you go to Cracker Barrel in North York?"</i><br /><br />"Uh, no." Whoa, what the hell is going on here?<br /><br /><i>"The movie theatre for $20?"</i><br /><br />"I don't go to movies?" A light panic starts to set in.<br /><br /><i>"La Senza?"</i><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/babasu/386498442/"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA6zKsY9HAScvdKDVHe7IpS9gEiTLoQQpvXDYpwFBZGMvCf5OGase9M3qtfOyXzaTRNgDOzvIK4p7S-KpUUdfJc_VPYBXEymVpITYE2pAYqtoHg368QpPuXxUDVoyzUoBIAFAQiQ/s400/suspect.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5045175834209977074" /></a>"I have never in my life set foot in La Senza." Apparently CIBC doesn't realize that I'm gay man who is not a drag queen.<br /><br />That's right, somebody stole my VISA and decided to go on the lamest shopping spree in fraud history. I mean, is it really worth the risk of going to jail so you can save $20 on the latest Sandra Bullock movie? La Senza raises a whole other raft of questions. Is this is a woman? If so, are the clerks not noticing the <i>very male name</i> printed on the card. Maybe it is a drag queen after all. Although I'd expect some charges to Mack in that case.<br /><br />The silver lining is that CIBC isn't making a stink over it. I've had credit with them for almost six years now, and really, who's going to lie about shopping at Cracker Barrel? So they're reversing the charges, and they're going to mail me an affidavit to sign. Easy peasy...so far.<br /><br />That's right, <i>I'm saying good things about a bank</i>. I feel dirty now. If only I had some frilly black lingerie to cheer me up! *shakes fist*<br /><br /><small><i>Image courtesy of <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/babasu/">babasu</a>.</i></small>Threnodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04354906620264648893noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35006354.post-20494973953371042612007-03-22T23:39:00.000-04:002007-03-22T23:43:20.206-04:00HNT: The ever so original edition<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQthPoxbvvLZxixjDz0p5dH2zEonuZqKvldiNd9sffUOuG1K20z4rnO3V_NEKoKsAGYX0PELEHUj7foXo9ZTCF_ObQluGnE_dn_KMAZ6dDLTTpa8b5okoS73zKxY313S1iL0O7UA/s1600-h/hnt2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQthPoxbvvLZxixjDz0p5dH2zEonuZqKvldiNd9sffUOuG1K20z4rnO3V_NEKoKsAGYX0PELEHUj7foXo9ZTCF_ObQluGnE_dn_KMAZ6dDLTTpa8b5okoS73zKxY313S1iL0O7UA/s400/hnt2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5044960102297666258" /></a><br />A photo from behind, who'da thunk it? After taking a look at this photo I'm not entirely sure if I like my back or not. Not that it really matters. I never have to look at the damn thing. Oh and what the hell is with the veins on my arms? They don't usually look like that, do they?<br /><br />Look forward to next week when *gasp* I might provide a <i>side shot!</i>Threnodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04354906620264648893noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35006354.post-863146856232295172007-03-21T11:30:00.000-04:002007-03-21T12:52:07.977-04:00New York, baby!Well looks like my pays-too-little but easy-going job is crapping out some fringe benefits. A client of ours from New York has asked my employer to fly me down for a little event she's doing.<br /><br />As someone who's barely been anywhere his whole life, this is wet my pants level exciting.<br /><br />Now comes the hard part: I have to get my freaking passport. I have six weeks or so. Should be okay, I think. But I'll have to pay extra to get it rushed.<br /><br />The event is on a Thursday, so I'm going to ask them to book my flight back for Sunday. You know what that means. <b>Party weekend!</b> I'll have to arrange my own accomodations for the weekend, so I'll probably go for a hostel. More money for partying, right?<br /><br />Anyhoo, if any of my dear readers can recommend some good clubs in the big Apple it'd be greatly appreciated. Requirements:<ul><li>House or trance music</li><li>Hot, shirtless, gay men in my age bracket. It doesn't necessarily have to be a gay club. New York's answer to the Comfort Zone would be the bees knees.</li><li>Must be a drug club where drugs are easy to get relatively inexpensively</li><li>Must be after-hours</li></ul>Stiff requirements, to be sure. But if I'm going to go all the way to New York, I should go somewhere at least as good as a club in Toronto, right? Just because I'm in New York doesn't mean I'm going to have fun listening to hip hop with a bunch of uglies.Threnodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04354906620264648893noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35006354.post-7815508927790740952007-03-19T13:13:00.000-04:002007-03-19T13:17:25.636-04:00Bad urban behaviorPerhaps this is something I could address to the author directly, but since his commenting system is utterly broken I'm going to publicly lash my <a href="http://www.beyondchurchstreet.com/">fellow blogger</a> over <a href="http://www.beyondchurchstreet.com/?p=133">this post</a>. Essentially it details his efforts to find Urban music in the village. Allow me to tenderly remove the juicy bits:<blockquote>With a daunting line up at Crews, a friend and I made that long and painful walk to Zippers, we got in and there was no line up(surprise?) and almost immediately we were greeted with dance remixes of all the cutting edge showtunes available. We got our drink, went to dance, got bored and went to ask for some Urban music. I was told and I quote ‘No, not a fan, not a fan’ and the look I received, if that slight attempt at acknowledging my existence upon uttering the phrase R&B could be considered a look) alone told me that I both had no right to ask, and that I was obviously in the wrong for thinking a DJ would actually play what people who(albeit got in for free) were patrons of the club wanted to hear.<br /><br />That said, I somehow doubt it would have gone over well to hear anything but the dance versions of songs that had their ‘original’ mixes recently top the charts worldwide, I digress. too literal?Realizing we weren’t so welcome, we happily left for another experience.<br /><br />The Crews line up seemed even longer so we went to Vice, and lo and behold, a dance remix of The Pussycat Dolls “Buttons” welcomed us on the way in. After a drink and a bit of dancing, I ask if they’re playing any urban music, surprise surprise I was told no, but not just no, upon asking what the problem the ’strip’ had with Urban music I was told that perhaps I should start my own club if I have a problem with it, wonderful!</blockquote>After that they gave up, waited in line for Crews and lived happily ever after.<br /><br />Now here's the thing: Anyone with a decent knowledge of the scene knows you're not going to get urban music at Vice, and especially not at Zippers, a <i>piano bar</i> for crap's sake. There's also the fact that DJs generally stick to their own genre. Do you think every DJ in town carries around house, trance, R&B, hip hop, top 40 and jungle just in case someone comes in and asks for it? This is the clubbing equivalent of going to Staples and demanding that they make you a sandwich. And how dare they refuse to cater to a paying customer!<br /><br />I'm sorry you didn't want to wait in line at Crews, but when the lineup is too long at Fly I don't go over to Crews and demand that they play house music, do I? No, because <i>everyone else is there to hear the kind of music they play at Crews</i>.<br /><br />I think in the past month I've sort of gone soft on the blog, leaving behind the offensive posts of the early days. Well it's time for a rennaisance my friend, because you are getting the jackass award!<br /><br />If anyone wants to suggest someone else who deserves an award, just drop me a line. The bitch is back!Threnodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04354906620264648893noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35006354.post-69973300565904920772007-03-16T20:45:00.000-04:002007-03-16T20:53:28.175-04:00HNT: Better late than never editionOkay so this half-naked Thursday thing is all a little new to me. I was supposed to take care of this yesterday, but life had other plans. So either you can pretend it's Thursday or you can't look. Sound fair?<br /><br />Sorry about the graininess, I couldn't find the flash attachment for my camera phone.<br /><br />Oh and I have a hard time smiling in pictures. That's why I'm sporting the scowl. Does somebody out there want to coach me? It makes me look sort of angry and heterosexual, and some guys go for that, right?<br /><br />Anyways, enjoy...I hope!<br /><br /><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsJeU7NSKsf48b9mlzAY_Gwqefo2tIQHIBCLdg6sXs0fzQIsuHE4gAoOTgXQNQsOcB-MuqknYPXBB3xvOlYCShyphenhyphenjYJTL6_Unu_xSYe-v4nz2ohoNb2BYGYJ_MO3kyGqkhUzfJ9tw/s400/hnt1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5042689236761152754" />Threnodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04354906620264648893noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35006354.post-84518460435659607012007-03-15T13:35:00.000-04:002007-03-15T14:48:53.101-04:00CrackintoshIt may not be apparent with all the half-naked pictures and drug talk, but I'm a life-long computer geek. How hardcore am I? I once told a friend that if I accidentally dropped my computer bag into the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rideau_Canal">Rideau Canal</a> when it was barely above freezing I'd be hopping in after it. And I would too.<br /><br />You're looking at someone who has hugged his computer on more than one occasion. I even named it after a Queer as Folk character I had a crush on. It's a terminal case, folks.<br /><br />But hell, have you seen an <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/IBook">iBook</a>? It's an adorable little white chicklet. And how many people can say their computer always does exactly what they want?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sad_Mac"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf1eUMs1OT7dECKJD2OTos3Mo9hjlCGbOzozuIbwsEed_GJSfWlLtQfp1wkcKo2t4fHj4NhtP9BklWcxEJkPhZmUdQdB18jmnwh5j8pNPuw5fU5fwPbzGEm7f3EYaiB5c_1M4zWQ/s400/sadmac.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5042204974903561426" /></a>I could, until yesterday. I came home from work after a tough day and <a href="http://www.apple.com/macosx/tiger/">Mac OS X</a> needed to install an update. I said "go for it"...and something went wrong. The update program crashed. Then no other software would start. So I tried rebooting, and she never came back up. For someone who would rather go without food than his computer, this was not acceptable.<br /><br />Long story short: I have to get me some install disks and it'll be fixed shortly.<br /><br />It's funny though. Apple advertisers Macs as a trouble-free alternative to Windows, but my friends still seem to have a lot of problems. Mac users are just a lot more forgiving.<br /><br />Let me put it this way: running Mac OS X is like being married to a really wild woman. She's dressed to the nines in designer clothes and when you're in bed you get the feeling you're in it together. She knows just what you want and she's happy to oblige. Once in a while she flies off the handle, but how could you stay mad when the makeup sex is this good?<br /><br />Running Windows is like being married to...a bitch. She looks alright, but instead of buying designer clothes she shops at Winner's. She carries a clearly counterfeit Louis Vitton bag. She doesn't get upset any more often than the firecracker, but when she does she rips up all your photos and throws your clothes on the front lawn. You spend as much time trying to coax her into sex as you do having it, and she acts like she's doing you some big favour. She gets the job done but leaves you secretly bitter that she makes the simplest of tasks complex and stressful.<br /><br />Have I carried that metaphor far enough yet? And thus ends the geekiest blog post I will ever write.<br /><br />Nobody that reads this will ever sleep with me.<br /><br /><small><i>Image courtesy of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sad_Mac">Wikipedia</a>.</small></i>Threnodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04354906620264648893noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35006354.post-24610875015274361632007-03-14T09:42:00.000-04:002007-03-14T13:17:22.974-04:00Ignorance is bliss<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/tostie14/112130075/"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiboqpZqNaNTOfjQ9yszBHjvlDy0KlALuQ_LQRCwkMzvaRNf_Y3Xn7oeaMc7zw-wSiy0vP6pdYAfjWBfjnmjcQTLj8_tFy5DW8sBv09jMdLXQVLhbDarJyt17CZm7jKoNl8Mak6vg/s400/112130075_668d1d15b4_m.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5041829727905877186" /></a>I've been talking to this 18 year-old guy online lately. Don't worry, it's probably not going anywhere.<br /><br />Last night we were talking on MSN, and for some reason I made a joke about the Marcarena. To which he replied:<br /><br /><i>"What's the macarena?"</i><br /><br />I feel like an antique.<br /><br /><small><i>Image courtesy of <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/tostie14/">Tostie14</a>.</small></i>Threnodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04354906620264648893noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35006354.post-31955707900968525862007-03-13T10:24:00.000-04:002007-03-14T13:31:10.261-04:00E-xaggerationSo there was a <a href="http://www.cbc.ca/canada/toronto/story/2007/03/12/ecstasy-lab.html">big ecstasy bust</a> in the city yesterday. When you're measuring the take in kilograms, you know it's a big deal. Hell, that's enough to supply a few hundred people for life, probably. Are they looking for anyone to guard that evidence locker?<br /><br />Anyways, why do the police insist on grossly exaggerating the value of the drugs they seize? Are they trying to impress someone? 'Cause nobody in this city pays $40 for a pill. It's not 1999, for crying out loud.<br /><br />If any of you, my dear readers, ever gets busted and brought up on charges, I will gladly appear at your sentencing hearing pro bono. As an expert witness, I'll testify about the over-inflated value of your beloved cargo. Of course, if you could introduce me to your "successor" as a thank you, it'd be all the better.Threnodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04354906620264648893noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35006354.post-72092153587064565822007-03-12T13:05:00.000-04:002007-03-12T19:59:48.115-04:00Test tube grown-upIt's funny, when you really, really get into the drug scene you learn to treat yourself like one big chemistry experiment. You learn to manipulate your body and mind to make them do what you want, when you want.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/42/87041348_97f22bde9e_m.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px;" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/42/87041348_97f22bde9e_m.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><i>I want to act like this. I want to feel like that.</i><br /><br />And of course the "health food store" has everything you need to counteract the side effects of the other stuff. Take this to avoid depression. Take that to help you sleep.<br /><br />Finally the scientific community is recognizing all the great, uh, work I've been doing. A friend tipped me off that <a href="http://www.camh.net/">CAMH</a> is doing a <a href="http://toronto.nowtoronto.com/employment/classifieds/EnlargeImage?oid=oid%3A322702&image=oid%3A322701">study </a> into whether ecstasy causes brain damage. So of course I was right on top of that shit.<br /><br />It's sort of like those studies where they give you some experimental drug to see what it does to you. Except I've been voluntarily taking it for the last 8 months.<br /><br />Of course there's always the risk that this place has the same owners as my <a href="http://zerothink.blogspot.com/2007/03/after-month-of-cancelled-appointments-i.html">evil gym</a>, and they're just trying to get me in so they can sell me some expensive rehab or something. Let's hope not.<br /><br />The downside: the thought that I might have brain damage. The upside: at least I can make some cash off of it. The irony: funneling the money back into the drug budget.<br /><br />I left a message, now I'm just waiting for a call back. Wish me luck!<br /><br /><i>PS Forgive me for being so flippant on the matter, but I've read up a great deal on the subject, and previous studies have found it causes no permanent damage when taking non-insane doses.</i><br /><br /><small><i>Totally clever picture of a guinea pig courtesy of <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/alexerde/">Just A Screenager</a>.</small></i>Threnodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04354906620264648893noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35006354.post-75795010086988417142007-03-11T22:20:00.000-04:002007-03-11T22:18:24.665-04:00How about the poonanilogues?We already know that <a href="http://zerothink.blogspot.com/2007/02/just-call-it-bowling-bag.html">children can't hear the word scrotum</a>, but did you know teenagers <a href="http://www.ctv.ca/servlet/ArticleNews/story/CTVNews/20070306/monologues_070306/20070306?hub=Entertainment">can't utter the word vagina</a>?<br /><br />That's right, three otherwise well-behaved high school students were suspended for reciting a few lines from <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Vagina_Monologues">The Vagina Monologues</a> at a school event. For shame!<br /><br />The school administration argues that it was an event open to the public, and there could've been children there. Oh my god, children might hear the word vagina! You know I've known the word vagina for a really long time, way back before I really knew what it entailed. Since I didn't even learn <i>where it was</i> until age 20, there were 14 or so years that I knew the word but couldn't find it on a...map.<br /><br />And yet somehow, with this shameful word in my vocabulary, I managed avoid turning into a serial killer, rapist or pedophile.<br /><br />I'm just shocked that this kind of puritanism still exists in our society. I mean, you can make a logical argument for why children shouldn't be exposed to sexuality. I'd say we usually go overboard, but the argument is there. But maintaining that the very <i>name</i> of their body parts shant be uttered is downright ridiculous.<br /><br />Maybe the principal is sexually frustrated or something. Buy him a blow up doll and let's move on with our lives.<br /><br /><i>PS While writing this post I found the best <a href="http://www.starma.com/penis/muffy/muffy.html">list of vagina euphemisms</a> ever!</i>Threnodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04354906620264648893noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35006354.post-51307570279175274982007-03-11T21:20:00.000-04:002007-03-11T23:49:06.866-04:00TV that doesn't suck: MadTV does the iRackMy roommate was watching TV when this came on. I thought it was going to be another lame Steve Jobs parody, but it was freaking hilarious. The first couple minutes kinda suck. You have to be patient, trust me. My roommate isn't geeky at all and he was cackling as much as I was. Enjoy!<br /><br /><center><object height="350" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/PuEDwcfJPSk"><param name="wmode" value="transparent"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/PuEDwcfJPSk" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" height="350" width="425"></object></center></embed>Threnodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04354906620264648893noreply@blogger.com3