Thursday, December 27, 2007

Alpine report # 1

I've been drinking heavily for days, but I've dried myself up just enough to take a couple minutes to see how everyone's Christmas was. All good? I hope you all enjoyed a fabulous holiday!

Ok, so I'm typing on a French keyboard, and those cheeky bastards put all the keys in different places. The only thing that curbs my rage is the fact that I love everything else about this place...

1. I have eaten so much cheese that I think I'm turning into cheese I think I'm turning into cheese I really think so.

2. The wine section takes up six aisles of a grocery store. That's fucking awesome!

3. This photo was taken while I enjoyed my morning coffee from the balcony of my chalet.

4. Today I bought moonshine off the back of a rickety truck up in the mountains. There was a distilling wagon parked on the side of the road, and I felt compelled to get in on the action. So I hung out with some very surly Alpine farmers, and I'll write a post about it once I upload the photos I took, because THESE GUYS TAKE THE CRAZY CAKE. No blindness to report so far, but stay tuned. This shit tastes like gasoline.

5. I know what you're thinking. That Kat is a total twat. And you'd be absolutely right. But France is full of 'em, so I think I might actually belong here.

more later... happy new year!

Monday, December 17, 2007

bon voyage, bitches!

The holiday season is that special time of year when we all give a little more to charity, do nice things for people, and endeavor to spend quality time with our families and friends.

This is exactly why I'm getting the fuck outta town tomorrow so I can hide out with The Corporal in France, where we can avoid that sort of nonsense. For three weeks, I shall don a beret, consume copius amounts of wine and gooey cheese, ski the Alps, and partake in the festive joy of disillusioned late-night youth riots in the streets.

Some French person I know is pretty darn sure that France has got the innernets, so I may be compelled to write a few posts if I can scam some hot wi-fi action from my bourgieous mountaintop chalet. But the wee postcard town I'm going to doesn't have any public transit to complain about, so I have absolutely no idea what I'm gonna write about. Barring any international incidents, Rocketradio will be back on the air after January 5th.

I'd like to take this moment to wish all of you a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year, or - if you don't celebrate Christmas, I wish you a Happy "insert festive religious or cultural celebration here". Y'all have written some awesome posts this past year, so be sure to reward yourselves with excessive eating, drinking, spending and fighting in the true spirit of Christmas.

Saturday, December 8, 2007

Happy Birthday Katrocket

Rocketradio has long hosted a popular feature known as The Birthday Wish, whereby a mildly embarrassing tribute is dedicated to Katrocket's favourite bloggers. Well, it's Katrocket's birthday today, so The Management would like to get this post out of the way before the six monkeys we hired to write content during the WGA strike get all drunk and start hurling insults (and poo).

This year, we take a glimpse into the secret life of our Host, with...

Fun Facts About Katrocket:

1. Katrocket's partnership with alcohol began at an early age, when she instinctively gravitated toward imports. (Photo courtesy of Aaron Edwards)

1. Katrocket has impeccable handwriting.

2. In 1987, the Vatican hired a young, mulleted Katrocket to market Pope John Paul II to a younger audience. She also is responsible for the name "John Paul II", after successfully arguing that the name Karel was "a bit girlie". Father Wojtyla was asked to pick his new name out of a giant pointy hat, which, unbeknownst to him, included only the first names of the Beatles. It is only by divine miracle that the world never came to know Pope Ringo George II.

3. Katrocket had a brief, but exciting fling with Canadian Formula 1 driver Jacques Villeneuve -- in her mind. She maintains to this day that his horrendous CD of cheesy French love songs is "all about the Rocket".

4. Katrocket has been a commuter's advocate for several years, and is about to knock the Toronto Transit Commission on its ass with her proposal to replace the lame and ineffective "TTC Special Constables" with "Hot Scantily Clad Chicks With Guns". Because no one disobeys an armed woman in panties.

5. Katrocket once made Chuck Norris a sandwich. It was the greatest sandwich he has ever tasted. He then went on to kick the world's ass.

Happy Birthday Katrocket.

The Management and HR Department here at Rocketradio looks forward to another year of warning letters and lawsuits. Please try to be sober for your shift on Monday.

Saturday, December 1, 2007

Happy Birthday to The Guv'ner

I totally missed The Guv'ner's birthday last Thursday, but I believe she is totally down with extending any cake-related event well into the next week.

I could probably say some nice shit about you, Ms. Manic Kater Aeroplanic, maybe even point the nice folks here to the dozens of personalities that you have, but instead, I baked you cakes. That's right, baby. I said CAKES, plural.

According to a recent keyword analysis, Rocketradio is a very popular internet resource for anyone seeking instruction in how to bake penis and boob cakes. Just Google "erotic pastry", and you'll see what I mean.

I couldn't decide which cake you'd like more, so here's a deluxe party platter to share with the whole gang. The cuntcakes are courtesy of Rocketpal and sweetcake superstar, Auni M.

Happy Birthday, Guv'ner. Please don't make yourself sick.


Katrocket's birthday is next Saturday, Dec 8th.

Details later in the week.

"It's a celebration, bitches!"

Tuesday, November 27, 2007

Are single girls just too picky?

According to a recent poll from the Metro Daily, Women's Top Five Turnoffs are:
1. Body odour
2. Bad breath
3. Arrogance
4. Poor table manners
5. Overweight men

It was a complete surprise to discover I'm not as discerning as my single sisters. I mean, sure those things can be unpleasant, but overall, they're fully correctable with proper training and a small investment in personal hygiene products.

Katrocket's Top Five Turnoffs are:
1. Douchebags
2. Assholes
3. Cocksucking liars
4. Fucking idiots
5. Cunts

Monday, November 26, 2007

The Idea of Progress Day

The Idea of Progress has claimed this day, November 26, to be The Idea of Progress Day.

Though he's done a fine job of self-promotion, and has even offered suggestions on how you can make this the best The Idea of Progress Day ever, I regret that I cannot truly celebrate a holiday that does not allow me time off work. Unlike so many of you, I do need to drink to have a good time, or at the very least, I need to not be at work to have a good time, and my new employer has some serious hangups about such behaviour.

But I will do my best to pretend it's not actually just another fucking Monday in winter, because The Idea of Pissing Off The Idea of Progress has too many consequences. He looks like he could blow me up real good.

So I will celebrate the self-proclaimed holiday of this raging megalomaniac by:
1) getting up early to write a lame post about The Idea of Progress Day.
2) parting my hair on the opposite side
3) going commando
4) going to work and doing work
5) having a cocktail or two after going to work and doing work

Have a safe and happy celebration!

Wednesday, November 21, 2007

Happy Thanksgiving

Dear My American friends:

I wish you a Happy Thanksgiving today!

You may recall that I also wished you a happy Thanksgiving back on October 8th, when it really was Thanksgiving. I love that you can bend holidays with your powers!

And the way you stretched out Daylight Savings Time, -- so we were spared the depression from 5pm darkness for one more week -- that was really cool, too. Thanks!

I would also like to thank you for refining the art of holiday-themed dog costuming. You really know how to entertain me, and I will always love you for that.

I hope you have a terrific long weekend, and join me in support of Steakbellie's bid to become the King of Cranberries on Spike TV's MLE Chowdown - Thurs at 11am and again at 7pm. I never liked the Cranberrries. That elf lady's voice was annoying, and their music kinda sucked. But I think Steakbellie could totally turn them around.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go pick out something nice to wear for The Idea of Progress Day on Monday.

Love and respect,


Tuesday, November 20, 2007

The Triple Nasty

Twenty years of Big City Livin' has almost completely blinded me to the sights and sounds of utterly disgusting public behaviour. Who among us has not witnessed public urination or vomiting, crumpled condoms on the sidewalk, or homeless people making out behind a dumpster in a convenience store parking lot? Surely not I. But today I saw something a little grosser than usual.

On my way to the coffee shop this morning, I spotted a stout, middle-aged man walking towards me with his dog. He caught my eye because he was wearing an oversized grey Russian-style fur hat - a bold fashion choice to pair with his ill-fitting early 90's turquoise and fushia ski jacket.

He stopped on the sidewalk about 50 feet in front of me, and his dog began to assume the Defecation Position. I immediately thought "Oh God no. Please. Not on the sidewalk." But this was only the beginning of what would turn out to be a Triple Nasty:

STAGE ONE: The dog craps all over the sidewalk.

STAGE TWO: While the dog is bearing down, The Man In The Fur Hat summons every ounce of mucous and pleghm from his sinuses, making that horrible gargling/hacking noise that old people make when they're about to barf up a lung. He lifts a single index finger to the left side of his nose, applies firm pressure, and blows with all his might out the right nostril, launching a sizable snotwad at least 7 feet outward into traffic . It splats across the passenger door of a very unlucky blue Subaru. This pleases him immensely. He laughs and says something to the dog. The dog continues to shit, unabated.

STAGE THREE: The Man In The Fur Hat attempts to spit out the remainder of his gooey insides, but misses the sidewalk completely, and his huge goober lands on the dog's back. He reaches down and rubs the snotty spit into his dog's fur. This pleases the dog immensely. Either that, or he was basking in the afterglow of a fabulously feel-good dump. They trot off, leaving a steaming pile of joy for others to relish in the coming weeks.

When The Man In The Fur Hat and I finally pass each other, he gives me a wink and a smile, as if to say: "Yeah, I saw you checkin' me out, baby." I must have been hiding my look of sheer horror with the hand I was using to cover my mouth and suppress my gag reflex.

"Are you gonna clean that up?" I asked, pointing at the offending matter.

"No," he said. "Are you?"

I guess some fuckers just roll like that.

Saturday, November 17, 2007

Tagged again: 8 Things

Originally uploaded by
I once said no mo' memes, but I was tagged by Competitive Eating Sensation Steakbellie to share 8 various Things with you, and I've got big plans to embed myself in his entourage when he's famous, so I'd rather not jeopardize a viable future of globetrotting sycophantasm.

8 passions in my life
Formula 1

8 things to do before I die:
Daniel Craig
Rob a bank and buy a ticket to an F1 race.
Travel to New Zealand and Australia.
Have my photos published in a popular magazine. Like Hustler.
Pay off my Visa.
Stop putting Baby in a corner.
Invade Holland (and take their stash).
Eliminate strollers on public transit. (Slogan: Got a fucking kid? Get a fucking car.)

8 things I often say
Get off me.
I'll have another.
Bitch, you're killing me.

8 Books I read recently
Canon EOS 350D instruction manual
"Fifth Business" by Robertson Davies
F1 Racing magazine - November issue
"Life of Pi" by Yann Martel
"Captains of Consciousness: Advertising and the Social Roots of the Consumer Culture" by Stuart Ewen

(okay, I'm a few short, but whatever.)

8 songs that mean something to me
"Creep" - Radiohead
"Funny How Love Is" - Fine Young Cannibals
"This Woman's Work" - Kate Bush
"The Sound of Violence" - Cassius
"My Friend" - Groove Armada
"The Rain Song" - Led Zeppelin
"Analyse" - Thom Yorke
"Spirit of Radio" - Rush (shut up, Pistols)

8 Qualities I look for in a friend
Sense of humour
Potty mouth
Cool hair

8 people who I'm passing this on to
Bitch, you're killing me.

Sexiest Man Alive?

Ok, I'll admit that Matt Damon is a slightly better than average looking man with mid-level acting skills and a touch of charm, but "Sexiest Man Alive"??

No dice, People. This guy is the Sexiest Man Alive.

What the hell is wrong with you, People? Are you now only choosing men who have appeared in the Ocean's movies?

Who's next? Bernie Mac? Elliot Gould? The kick-ass Asian acrobat guy?

Sorry, but I every single time I hear the name Matt Damon, I hear it with that Snarbucks accent from Team America.

Not very sexy:

Wednesday, November 7, 2007

Action Satisfaction

Winter is in the air and I was feeling a bit depressed today.

At times like these, nothing cheers me up like Chuck Norris Action Karate Jeans. That "special hidden gusset" makes me wanna kick some ass right now.

Do YOU have The Action?

Tuesday, November 6, 2007

Satisfy your partner with a bigger logo

A friend of mine sent me this mockumercial yesterday, and there's some good humour in the sad truth that lies beneath, so I'm posting this as a shout-out to my friends and lovers in the graphic arts industry.

So... to Mr. Radloff, Patrick, Steakbellie, Birdy, Cipri, Trixie, and all the designers out there, this product will definitely make your life easier:

Created by Agency Fusion:

Sunday, November 4, 2007

Making time for the important things in life

I haven't had much free time lately, but I'm really trying to make more time for the important things in life.

Like colouring this rocking horse for Dale.

Because I'm a giver.

Friday, November 2, 2007

How Would Jesus Drive?

I was taking a taxi across town this afternoon, rushing to an appointment, and we got stuck creeping along behind an elderly couple driving about 10 mph. They were either lost or asleep - plenty of "left-no! right-no-I-meant-left!" blinker action and sudden stops.

The cabbie was totally annoyed with the seniors. They had a Jesus fish, and a "What Would Jesus Do?" bumper sticker on the trunk of their car. Almost immediately after I noticed these decals, the cabbie lost his patience and started gesturing at them, honking the horn, and swearing in Arabic.

While I was laughing at his reaction from the back seat, he shouted:


And then I got to thinking: he was so right. The Jesus was really into keeping people away from Hell. But I'm pretty sure he would just pull over and look at a map.

Thursday, November 1, 2007

World Platform

Some of you are already hep to my secret life as a nationally renowned pornographer photographer. Well, if you're in the Niagara Falls area during the month of November, be sure to take time out of your busy honeymooning or stunt-barreling activities and check out World Platform at SMOKE GALLERY 4654 Queen Street, Niagara Falls ON Canada.

Saturday November 3rd - noon till late
The Smoke Gallery delivers World Music, Fine Art and Evening Video Screenings....

artists include:
The Beevers
Wayne Corlis
Lou Cerce
Beth Okonczak
Paul Thulin
Sarah Martin
Matt Vizbulis
Marinko Jareb
Dan Doucette

Saturday, October 27, 2007

My love for Kimi gives me strength during the Great Embargo on Strollers

Well, I made it through my first week at the new job, and though I am not accustomed to working with competent, intelligent, creative, cheerful and interesting people, I think could actually get used to it! I had no idea that such workplaces existed in the world, and had I known sooner, I wouldn't have been wasting the past 15 years of my life slaving for jerks.

My new responsibilities will unfortunately result in a lot less blogging (and reading your blogs), but locals are welcome to check out my new cable access program Are You Smarter Than a Balled-Up Kleenex? Sure, it sounds really easy, but you might be surprised how many people can't measure up against a snotrag.

Other headlines this week:


I never got around to celebrating the AMAZING championship victory of my favourite Formula 1 driver, Kimi Raikkonen of Ferrari, who blew the doors off the competition with a stunning upset at the Brazilian Grand Prix, overcoming a 17 point deficit to take the Driver's Championship by 1 point. Congrats baby, and I know you'll make that booty call to me as soon as you have a minute to settle down from all the excitement.

Nothing pleases me more than to witness the immense suffering of that cheating, crybaby rookie goldenboy Lewis Hamilton. This obnoxious jerk had everyone in the sport bending the rules in order to hand him a championship title on a silver platter, but he still came in second, despite such favouritism. I do love me some good old fashioned come-uppance. By the way, you look fucking awesome with a moustache and goatee.


The best thing about working from home was the pleasant absence of transit frustrations. I forgot how much I hated commuting, and though I don't have too far to travel, the good people of this city have not forgotten how to send me into a blind rage. It seems that during my hiatus, the Rude Commuters of Toronto have joined forces with the Rude Stroller Mamas of Toronto to build a formidable Army of Assholes that foil my every effort to get to work unscathed.

Are we having so many giant babies that we need to make these massive SUV strollers that take up 12 square feet of the planet's surface area?? Okay, I understand if you pop out 3 or 4 at once, you might need some seriously engineered prammage to get around, but how can one tiny kid possibly need a freakin hockey duffel bag for all its stuff? I'm an adult and I don't think I own that much shit, let alone carry it around with me. I'm seriously considering stealing a shopping cart to use purely in self-defense.

I mention this only because I suffered undue physical injury to my right ankle this week, when a rather aggressive mother rammed her fucking colossal stroller with the all-terrain wheels and anti-lock brakes into my leg as she was forcing her overladen Behemothbuggy onto a way-too-already-crowded subway train. And as I winced in pain and attempted to mop up the blood gushing from my ankle, she felt the need to lecture me (in the presence of 100 people) on the untold importance of getting the fuck outta her way.

Imagine if you will, the small burst of applause and smiles from witnesses after I shouted at her: "YOU MADE ME BLEED, YOU SELFISH BITCH!" Yes, T-shirts will be available from Rocketstudio in time for the holiday season. Pistols: with your bizarre and pathetic dating history, you've already earned yourself a free one.

Saturday, October 20, 2007

High 'ho: "It's off to work I go"

Well, my hiatus officially comes to an end on Monday, because I just got a new full-time job. That's right, it's a celebration, bitches! On Monday, I'll begin working as a project manager/producer for a small interactive media company. It seems like a really fantastic gig, and an opportunity to learn plenty of new things from some truly talented and cool people. This is no office job in a cubicle - this is actually something I want to do.

In some ways, I'm a little sad to leave behind the wistful, carefree days of 3pm cheesies and cocktails with Dr. Phil. But after 4 months of relying solely on self-employment, I decided that I really do prefer being paid on a regular basis a lot more than starving and losing sleep. I shall continue to offer creative services through Rocketstudio on a part-time basis, if my work schedule allows it.

I sure did learn a lot while I was working from home:
  • "being bossy" and "being your own boss" are not the same thing.
  • my landlord does not accept paintings, demo CDs, or bottles of red wine in lieu of a rent payment, even though that's exactly what some of my clients think is a pretty fair trade for a website for their rock band or art gallery.
  • My upstairs neighbour exercises vigorously at exactly 9 am everyday with some kind of squeaky apparatus, like a rowing machine, an Abdomizer, or perhaps a mattress.
  • Drinking before noon is not nearly as bad as everyone claims it to be. It's really quite fun.
  • TV networks don't want unemployed people to enjoy themselves too much during regular business hours, and ensure our continued misery by repeatedly airing such films as Rush Hour, Short Circuit 2, Beethoven, and Mannequin.
  • Three little words: "no mo' Snarbucks"
  • Even when unemployed, I'm still not lame enough to participate in a recent meme from The Idea of Progress. I'm overwhelmingly flattered that Mr. Progress deems me lame enough to have earned such an honourable invitation, however, I believe the only lame quality I possess is my Secret Love of Journey, which isn't really all that lame (or secret) - it's just good common sense. It's been scientifically proven that Steve Perry kills 98% of bad times and lonely nights. My personal idea of progress? "No mo' memes!"

Saturday, October 13, 2007

I'll Bet she complains about a lot more than just your small cock

Guy, you know who you are. You keep sending me these annoying e-mails, whining about how your wife constantly complains about your small cock. Well, if she knew you were telling the whole world about it, she'd divorce you, too. I mean, it's a drag that she's got certain expectations, but talking about it is not gonna make it any better.

And you totally make her sound like a bitch, you know. I bet she's just some poor stressed-out lady who's coping with an idiot blabbermouth husband and a really unsatisfying sex life. So take your pills or stretch it out or something. Because no one cares. Except, obviously, your fucking wife.

Thursday, October 11, 2007

Shameless plugs that won't result in a scalp infection

After several months of unabashed swearing and childish hissy fits, the BBJ online shop is finally up and running! Barbie's Basement Jewellery ( is an awesome fashion accessories company that makes wicked hot belt buckles and other fun trinkets. These make amazing gifts and turn you into an instant superstar when you give them to your friends. I know "it's more important to give than receive", but screw all that, upholding my reputation as a totally fucking cool person is all I have left in my sad mess of a life.

In other news, the stylish winter lodgings of rocketstudio are now live and temporarily residing at until construction on the main estate at is completed.

Wednesday, October 10, 2007

It's beard season

It has recently come to my attention that very few people are familiar with the term "beard", as it might be applied to someone like Katie Holmes here.

beard (bîrd) n. - One who serves to divert suspicion or attention from another.

I'm not convinced that Tom Cruise is gay, but I do think he's crazy, so he might wanna buy himself a moustache as well.

Wednesday, October 3, 2007

It's the only pie you're getting tonight, mister.

I get kind of annoyed with people who claim to be allergic to certain foods in order to avoid eating something they don't like. There's a huge difference, people, and that difference is a trip to the emergency room.

So if you don't like the way something tastes, you should just say so, because lying about it "to spare someone's feelings" is completely stupid. I think that once you hit adolescence, you can go ahead an eat whatever you like and not eat what you don't like, and people will pretty much respect your choices. Because faking an allergy is totally douchey.

Case study # 1:

I made a totally awesome coconut creme pie for my dinner date last night and he turned up his nose at it...

Date: Hmmmm. Smells like Hawaiian Tropic tanning oil.
Me: It's coconut creme pie! Homemade!
Date: So it's got coconut in it...
Me: It's kind of a key ingredient.
Date: Ah....yeah. Uh, I'm allergic to coconut.
Me: (concerned) No way! Gosh, I'm sorry, I should have asked...okay no worries. So what happens to you?
Date: What do you mean?
Me: Do you swell up and explode?
Date: No.
Me: Do you turn blue and explode?
Date: Not at all.
Me: So what then? Is it lactose intolerance? Your limbs shrivel up and fall off? Do ya get giant lips? Break out in hives?
Date: I get a really bad taste in my mouth.
Me: That's it? Does that require immediate medical attention?
Date: Not really. I just don't like the taste of coconut, I guess.
Me: So you're not actually allergic to coconut.
Date: Well, no. But I really hate coconut.
Me: Why didn't you just say that?
Date: Well, you went through all this trouble, and it's a beautiful presentation...

What I thought: Shut the fuck up and eat your pie, you big fat liar.

What I said: How about some Oreos? Or are you allergic to those, too?

Tuesday, October 2, 2007


I was enjoying a very happ'nen scene with some friends at Hump Day Bump, a weekly Wednesday late-night whoop-up for those of us who don't have "real jobs".

I was minding my own business, enjoying a fine libation, when a gay old acquaintance of mine spots me and swoops in to introduce me to his new housemate: "This is my new roomie! He's straight! Can you BELIEVE IT???!!! He's here to scope out the ladies!" And on that note, he ditched Roomie at my table and floated toward the bar.

"Interesting, " I thought. Because checking out the ladies at a gay/lesbian social club is always so worthwhile for straight men on the prowl. I silently wondered when Roomie would notice that he's actually simmering in a big stew of queerness.

Then a very attractive female friend of mine stopped at my table on her way back from the bar. There's some hugs, some small talk, and because I have impeccable manners, I introduced her to Roomie. Kind regards abound, and then she's on her way. But Roomie cannot take his eyes off her as she disappears onto the dance floor. He has that smitten look.

"I'd like me some of that!" says Roomie. Ah yes, such a dude. "Are you close friends with her? Do you think I could get her number? I got a real good vibe... I think she likes me!"

I doubt it, honey. I probably should let him know that my very attractive female friend is also very much into the ladies. And is probably a lot more successful at it, too. After all, she is smokin' hot.

"I do believe she prefers bush to nuts," I say. Maybe I should have been much clearer on this point, but what can I say? I was feeling poetic. And tipsy. And completely disinterested in pimpin'.

"Oh, I don't really care about politics," says Roomie. "Besides, Bush IS nuts! hahaha!"

Great. Then I got exactly what I deserved: a five-minute monologue of bad, cliché Dubya jokes and Roomie's personal hotness rating of the Bush Twins. (summary: not very hot, but he'd still "do 'em both"). But before he could launch into his working theory about the First Lady being "a real go-er", I totally snapped and blurted out:


"Laura Bush is a dyke?!!!!" Roomie is totally shocked by this new revelation.

"No! I mean my friend.... that girl... she's a lesbian, so I when I said bush..."

"...aaaah! You meant pussy." Roomie completed my sentence, and without missing a beat, he says, "See? We already have something in common!"

You gotta give props to the man who sees the lass as being half-full.

And no, I did not give him her number.

Wednesday, September 26, 2007

Congratulations, you may already be a wiener

Actual telemarketing call - 5:05pm Wednesday.

recorded female voice: Congratulations! Your contest entry has just been selected to win a one-week Caribbean cruise! For more information on how YOU can collect your prize, press nine now.

(Pause. A little slower.) That's the "9" button on your telephone keypad. Press it now.

Monday, September 24, 2007

Tourists are funny

Today I had lunch with a friend of mine who works at the Toronto Tourism Board. She spends most of her day answering calls from inquisitive tourists-to-be on their toll-free information line. It's so unlike me to waste a perfectly good margarita by laughing it right out my nose, but her hotline stories were so damn funny, I totally lost my ability to retain liquids.

REAL questions from the hotline:

Why do French Canadians have a different accent from other Canadians?

How do I apply for the Canadian Express card?

What's all this about Boxing Day in Toronto? Do you box on that day?

I heard about that new law and I'd like to find out... uh, my girlfriend would like to know the best places to go topless in Toronto.

Caller: How far is Boston from Toronto?
My friend: About 900 kilometers, or 565 miles.
Caller: So if I drive using miles, it won't take me as long to get there? Is that what you're saying?

Will the Toronto subway take me to Vancouver?

I'm entertaining some executives visiting from out of town, and I would like to know where they can ride some llamas.

What information do you have on Italy?

Wednesday, September 19, 2007

Deaf Retard Adventures, Vol. 3

This morning, I stopped into my local Starbucks for a small coffee -- or a smalli or twall or whatever the hell they insist on calling it -- and there was some shit goin' down. As I walked through the doors, there was some sort of awkward disturbence happening in the seating area where the hipster doofus crowd hangs out with their laptops and newspapers.

I stood in line just 6 feet away and watched as a timid, pint-sized barista girl tried in vain to get a panhandler to stop pestering the customers and leave the premises. But this guy wasn't really listening. Or more accurately, he wasn't hearing. He was one of those deaf and mentally challenged guys who gives you the little card with all the sign language on it and then just stands there like a creep until you give him money. Unfortunately, they don't tell you the sign for "fuck off and leave me alone" on that card, and some of them just don't respond to the universally accepted middle finger.

For the record, I run into the deaf-card people fairly often because there's a school for the deaf in my neighbourhood. The vast majority of these students are polite and totally harmless, and choose NOT to beg strangers for money. But sometimes you get a dude who just doesn't roll that way. But listen, I've got no beef with deaf retards and I am one myself from time to time, so don't send hate mail.

So there's two affluent (and annoying) fashionista moms in the corner with their designer babies, and these bitches are freaking out cuz the panhandler guy is "harrassing" them and "endangering" their precious Guccified offspring. The tiny little barista girl has the daunting task of trying to eject a 300-pound manchild from her workplace, which I think is a lot to ask in exchange for six bucks an hour. The panhandler is getting all edgy and waving his hands around and making "mwuuuh naaah nuh nuuuh" noises and it's all quite fun to watch, but someone's gonna lose an eye.

I tend to believe that calm communication can diffuse a tense situation like this, but in the absence of communication, I find actions do just fine. So I walked up to the panhandler, made eye contact with him, flipped open my cell phone and began dialing. I dialed my friend Mark's number, but that's not the point. I calmy and politely told the panhandler "I'm calling the police, sir. No wants want any trouble."

He handed me a card, nodded, and immediately walked out the door. Because he's just broke, not stupid. I also suspect he may not be entirely deaf, or he's awesome at lip-reading, because he took off at a mighty impressive speed for a fat guy who couldn't communicate with anyone until the word "police" was mentioned.

The elite douchebag moms were all thank-yous and la-dee-dahs and "OMG wasn't that crazy??" and I found them so fucking insufferable that I actually regretted helping them out. The wee barista was so happy and relieved that she gave me a free coffee. Venti! That's italian for "extra grateful"!

Meanwhile, a really confused Mark is still on the phone saying "WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON???" and I say "Oh sorry man, just trying to get rid of a retard. Call ya right back..."

Mark: "I thought you broke up with that guy."


When I leave the cafe, the panhandler is just around the corner, pestering new hordes of people who brush past him and pretend he's not there. I stopped and gave him all the change in my pocket and my coffee. He refused the coffee, but kept the cash. He gave me a huge semi-toothless grin. I told him to stay the hell away from Starbucks cuz yuppies are trouble. As I walked away, he called out to me:


Monday, September 17, 2007

The weekend in pictures

Some of you have remarked that your lives are "boring" (your words, not mine) and that you enjoy living vicariously through me, so I thought you should know that you had a pretty good weekend:

Saturday 7am - Coffee and morning paper on the terrace. A bit chilly. Notice that the garden is pretty much dead and it's probably a good day for the big fall cleanup. But you're not really in the mood for that, so you do nothing about it.

Saturday 8am - Check out the Belgian Grand Prix F1 qualifying sessions. Kimi takes the pole!

Daydream about taking Kimi's pole.

Saturday 3pm - Country karaoke with Sweet Daddy Siki. You don't sing because you don't know any lyrics to country songs. When someone tells you that's no excuse, since the lyrics are on a TV screen in front of you, you quickly diffuse the situation by confessing that you can't read. They don't believe you, so you insist that you cannot see. And you also have a cold and you're losing your voice. And your religion strictly prohibits the singing of country music.

Saturday 8pm - the karaoke party moves down the street 2 blocks and merges with a lesbian BBQ. It's Jamie's birthday! Ryan bakes a homemade birthday cake from scratch, decorated with a lucha mask because Jamie loves the Wrasslin', and you silently ponder what it would be like to be that talented. Eat some cake. Eat another piece of cake for Pistols, because he would've wanted it that way.

Saturday 9:15pm -Feel slightly disappointed that it's too cold outside for the usual tit parade. Settle for staring at tattoos of boobs instead.

Saturday 11pm - You discover a new technique for poaching fish!

Seafood lovers rejoice!

Sunday 7:30am - Belgian Grand Prix F1 race. Quite exciting, especially given the FIA's decision last Thursday to strip the McLaren team of their 2007 constructor points as a result of the espionage scandal. Kimi wins! Massa comes in second, giving Ferrari a 1-2 finish and closing the points gap in the Driver Championship. You feel an odd craving for champagne...

Sunday 11am - brunch with Jamie and Jules to continue the birthday fun. You are served by the Most Beautiful Waiter You've Ever Seen. He's wicked gay but knows how to work a drooling straight girl for a decent tip. You drink one too many champagne and OJ's, leading you to decide it will be more fun to go back to Jamie's for more cocktails than that other thing you planned to do today: clean your apartment.

Sunday 3pm - Realize your friends' dog is more fashionable than you, and feel a bit sorry for yourself. Take notes from the dog on what's hot for fall.

Sunday 4pm - go home and take a short nap to sleep off the mild brunch buzz.

Sunday 5pm - housework time. Mentally write "help wanted" ad for attractive male domestic assistant, but get stuck on the word you would use for a male version of "maid": Butler? (too formal) Houseboy? (too gay) Manservant? (sounds like that douchebag who follows P. Diddy around)

Sunday 8pm - friends drop in to watch the Emmys and help you make fun of celebrities and other showbiz folks that you don't really recognize because you don't watch their crappy shows. Ryan Seacrest totally irritates you. You vow (again) to never watch awards shows. Ever! You really mean it this time!