You Practically Rock


Wherein I discuss how fashion forward I am, then contemplate my future
Cam whore.

Cam whore.

People often approach me on the street and ask me if I’m in a band. I suppose this is because when people see someone in a band they are dressed in super-trendy, avant guard haute cotour, this is probably what those same people who approach me on the street to ask me if I’m in a band are trying to say: I’m very fashion forward

Thinking back on it now I’ve always sort of had people assume I’m in a band, when I was growing up a kid in the suburbs I was often asked what the name of my boy band was – perhaps due to my spiky hair sticking out of my nike visor, whilst I wore an oversized jersey and baggy, low slung faded jeans.

I remember specifically after everything changed on 9/11 people thought that I was a member of Toby Keith’s backing band because of my penchant for wearing Defiant blues, blood-stained reds and patriotic whites. (all made of denim.)

But now, I’m thinking that I want something different, I want to become a ‘new person’ with a ‘varying style’ that no one ‘can really pin down it’s influence’ – like the Olsen twins or the guys from 98 Degrees.

I’m trying to find a new clothing style, should I follow in the footsteps of The Vampire Weekends and dress like a Wes Anderson character?

I actually adore this band.

In Truth: I actually adore this band.

Should I take steroids and spend a little too long in a tanning booth and accent everything with pink? Should I hide my thinning hair with a faux hawk? Should I practice Blue Steele all the time? Should I dig only songs that have enough bass that I can pump through my I-Roc Z/Probe/Mom’s Neon/Mom’s Sentra/Dad’s Miata

Most of my nightmare actually start at Mystic Tan

Most of my nightmare actually start at Mystic Tan

Should I become Punk Rock and get a full sleeve tatoo filled with meaningful symbols such as stars, starlings and a 1950s pin up model? Should I make sure to sneer at stuff and feel that everyone else is sheep, so I lose myself in cocaine and ecstacy because I want to ‘feel something that I’m not supposed to?*’

Should I wear American Apparel clothing even though it could possibly lead to a inopportune nut slip?

At a Girl Talk Concert would I have to use Tape to make sure my nut cleavage didn't fall out?

At a Girl Talk Concert would I have to use Tape to make sure my nut cleavage didn't fall out?

How do you explain your personal brand to your parents?

Can you remain 100% to your self by constantly changing who you are? Or is what you wear only your skin that you shed in order to be reborn as an adult

*actual quote.

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Wherein I discuss what it means to be ‘meaningful’
January 6, 2009, 3:21 pm
Filed under: Love Making | Tags: , , , , , ,

I’m going to be straight up with you Gs; I want people to look back at me and say: “wow, his words really struck a chord in me, he made me realize something profound.”

People constantly approach me on the street and reaffirm my belief that my words, my ‘voice’ is one filled with meaningfulness.

When me and my boys hang when we're older it will be even more meaningful because we're all dying.

When me and my boys hang when we're older it will be even more meaningful because we're all dying.

I’m sort of like a power ballad played at the climax of your favourite prime time teen soap opera. If I was a music video it would involve people looking pensively to the ground with their hands over their faces, then boom, they slowly look up with a wounded look that conveys just how meaningful that moment is to them.

I’m like the best friend who after a crazy night of drunkeness and random make outs with randos you sit in the parking lot of McDonald’s and you talk about how “these are the nights we’ll always remember” and then we show each other our techniques on ‘finger banging’ and then describe the best tug job that we recieved from that rando who was willing to do more but stopped herself because she thought we’d respect her more, and maybe the two of us could have more than ‘meaningful tugsies in the laundry room at a mutual friend’s house party’

There have been occasions where I say something totally profound that people have asked me if they could use it as their facebook status update, or as a quote on their wall. I’m usually very flattered and allow them to do so because for me it was a throwaway comment that didn’t mean much, but to them it’s something that they’ll live the rest of their lives by.

Inspiring words take this meaningful picture to the next level

Inspiring words take this meaningful picture to the next level

(“That Ukrainian stripper bit my penis” is a rally cry for those who feel uncomfortable in strip clubs.. you’re welcome.)

Sometimes I fear that maybe I’m not reaching enough people, because similar to Jesus I still only hang out with the same twelve dudes I grew up with, and have really only venture like 5 hours away from the safety of my Nazareth (Barrie, Ontario) Maybe that’s why I started this weblog because I want the world to understand that I’m ‘there for them’ and that ‘they can talk to me’

Also, It’d be nice to meet freaky girls who are DTF and want to try that dangerous stuff that could possibly get you arrested if you spring it on a girl who’s not prepared for it and or thinks that it’s ‘gross’ and ‘only something a crack addicted prostitute who’s done everything could ever really get her mind around.’

Sometimes I really hate you for being close minded.



Who I is.. (wherein I discuss who I is) Part 1
December 22, 2008, 8:09 pm
Filed under: Love Making, Who I is | Tags:

I really appreciate that you guys take your time out to read my thoughts. I know that pretty much everything I write is super-meaningful like a Death Cab For Cutie song or a power ballad in the 80s with orchestral swells and the fact that so many of you, including some rando who wants me to go to his birthday party, are so over come with emotion when you read my notes really, honestly, truly, makes me get a huge boner in my pants.

I know you want to know all about me, but if I was a lady i’d totally be the one who plays hard to get – y’know? I’d reveal little things, dish out small details that you’d hold onto like it autographed picture of Estelle Geddy. (that shit went up in price when she died, like oil during the war on terrors1 )

So for instance, enjoy this story.

When I was in University I had the most lethal case of the Unrequited Loves (located above Urinary tract disorder in the Big Books of Diseases that legit Doctors have behind them) for this girl with blond hair and what I can only vaguely remember as being darkish eyes.. any ways, the only reason I think I liked her is because she totally looked like a Femme Fatale and every time I saw her she totally rocked a “I’m Going To Take Over The Planet In An Evil Way” look that totally does it for me. (Memo to all the girls who totally want me as their loser live-in boyfriend who holds them back.)

Any way we totally bonded one night over a shared love of R.L Stein’s Goosebump series. We stayed up all night, drank cheap wine until 4 am. We ended up M.Oing for a bit then we made vigorous yet tender love. As she drifted off to sleep, I quietly left the bed, put on my BDG skinny jeans, tied up my cons and then, she awoke as I opened the door, I put my index finger to her lips and mouthed: “I loved you.” Then I refiled through her fridge, stole some money from her roommate’s purse and peed in the back of her toilet2.

…as I left I took her paper to read on the bus.

But I’m pretty sure she got the last laugh, as I still haven’t got rid of my yeast infection.

1See: here’s another one. I’m topical and super political, I attend rallies and suffer from white guilt all the time.