Friday, November 25, 2011

Abominable Foods

1. Brussel Sprouts – You taste like my backyard. There’s grass, old trees, garbage cans, a hobo poking around the alley for empties.

2. Onions – If you eat them raw, you should be ashamed of yourself. You’ll need to go to confession to absolve your sin! But onions are so uncivilized that the priest probably won’t sit within a mile of you! You’ll exit the church in tears then, late Sunday night, alone in your candle-lit kitchen, you’ll gorge on a bulb of raw garlic and have an explosive gastrogasm, won’t you, glutton!?

3. Green peppers – Is this healthy or something? Why’s everyone and their mother trying to make me eat this bitter junk? It’s extra sick when cooked and, unfortunately, stars in every meal of the day, from eggs to pizza. It’s enough to turn a snob anorexic.

4. Fish sauce –It tastes good, but makes you smell you’ve performed cunnilingus on a dead cod.

5. Kraft Dinner – This is an insult to the word ‘dinner’. You call that macaroni? And this garbage is supposed to be cheese? And then you douse it in ketchup to camouflage the poisonous flavour? You stupid gringo, don’t tell me this is your idea of rosé sauce? My sophisticated tastes outgrew this gruel before birth.

6. McDonalds Hamburger – I had one recently…it tasted like fallen dreams. Can’t believe I used to pine for these once upon a time…ahhh…back in the ol’ Americana days, when we didn’t know no better.

7. Liver – This tastes like bile and toxins, which is à propos. While beef liver is weird, I CAN tolerate calf’s liver on occasion, cause how could he accumulate any grossness? He’s toooo cuuuute!!!

8. Pâté – Hey Liver, I know you’re hiding in there! Don’t think you can change forms and market yourself as a delicacy to throw me off your trail. If word gets out that humans are so gullible, your comrade, canned cat food, will be next to launch a line of canapé toppers.

9. Parsnips – This root tastes sweet and metallic, like it’s full of vitamins and minerals. Whatever. People take pills for that. See you to the top the endangered species list, yukko.

10. Popcorn – is delicious EXCEPT at movie theatres, where most people chew it with their mouths open. When this happens, I have to teach mofos some manners. During the quiet scene that you’re ruining, I’ll snatch the bag from your greasy paws and toss it at the screen shouting, “ANIMALS!!!” Then I’ll walk out slowly, kernels like bullets in my wake.

Wednesday, November 23, 2011

Even Bitchier Fashion Don'ts

1. Nice 5” stilettos. Too bad you look like a stripper with polio when you walk in them.

2. Has Kurt Cobain risen from the grave to assemble an army of neo-grunge, plaid-clad bedheads, or was 1993 just randomly selected as the next big thing and re-packaged as ‘Boho chic’?

3. I don’t care if Sienna Miller was spotted wearing Uggs once, that doesn’t give you the right to wear them unless you, too, are hot enough to have shagged Jude Law.

4. If there weren’t so many monograms and cartoon flowers all over your shit-brown Louis Vuitton purse, it miiiiiiight look like it’s worth the $1000 you paid for it.

5. No-one told me Ed Hardy is now President and CEO of the universe. I bet his name is plastered on the rings of Saturn cause they ALSO wanna look ‘edgy.’

6. Speaking of tattoo designs, I love that dolphin/butterfly/Chinese symbol inked on your back!*
*Must invest in companies specializing in laser-removal of stretched-marked clichés. I shall die a trillionaire!!!

7. I love how your jeans are hanging off your ass, boi, cause now I know better than to touch the lice-ridden bits and pieces hidden beyond your stained and threadbare boxers.

8. Because I’m not done ragging on leggings: If you have leggings with fake back pockets screen printed on them so they look like ultra tight jeans (to those with visual impairments, and from over 6 metres away) I’ll burn them and anything they’ve touched, including your sassy lil’ ass.

9. Acid washed, tapered, jeans don’t count as skinny jeans but nice try Mom.

10. Your ass-exposing micro-mini dress is giving boys a “10” on the bone-o-meter but that doesn’t mean they’ll want to hear what you have to say. They’ll presume you’re a brainless floozy, just like all the girls will.

11. Leather pants should NOT be worn by anyone other than rock stars, cougars who go to Chick ‘n’ Deli, and Bon Jovi fans with weaknesses for the Danier outlet store.

12. If your pants are so long that they’re touching the ground, this should indicate that you need them hemmed. HEMMED doesn’t mean rolled up, pinned, or tucked into your socks. It’s something achieved with a needle and thread and – in a jam – double-sided hemming tape which, if you have any self-worth at all, would be tucked neatly in your purse beside your Tide To Go stick.

13. Hey muffin, if your waist is thicker than your hips, you have no business wearing low-rise pants or actually eating muffins.

14. Socks + sandals. Some weirdos are determined to keep committing this offense.
Fine. WEAR your socks, sockettes, or nude pantyhose with reinforced toes. I don’t care. But I WILL spread rumors that you have athlete’s foot, warts, corns, hammer toes, bunions, foot odour, toe jam, fungus, oozing blisters, or secret prosthetic feet, and THAT’S why you’ve had to bite your thumb at good taste.

15. How was Yoga class? I presume the locker room was closed for renovations so you’ve been forced to commute home in that Lululemon shit instead of real clothes. Or are you just deliberately showing off cause you can afford $100 ‘work out pants’ and can twist into kinky sexual positions, ya smug bitch?

16. Hey Holden Caulfield, I’m digging your backwards hat. It makes you look so rebellious, so disapproving of the status quo, so aloof to facial sun damage. Now turn it around and grow the fuck up.

Friday, November 18, 2011

Your Tattoo is Ugly

1. Paw Prints – I don’t see the appeal of making it look like you’ve been molested by a raccoon. Like it snuck in through your bedroom window and tap danced on your chest while you were passed out, that sneaky bugger.

2. Strawberry – If you’d like to explain how this is significant to you, I’m all ears. Maybe you ate a tasty strawberry once, and it changed your whole life? Maybe you’re a strawberry picker? Maybe you visited Strawberry Fields in Liverpool and then wobbled down to the tattoo shop after too many Stellas while on holiday? Ding! That’s it.

3. Dolphins – This screams Miami, 1988. Unless you really got it in 1988, in a display of youthful recklessness, then this water mammal is too graceful to be permanently trapped in your sea of skin.

4. Asian characters – That’s special, white guy. You can’t read it, but you’re pretty sure it means “courage” or “individuality” or some shit. Why can’t more English-speaking people get their little mantras written in a respectful Times New Roman? I know, it’s cause you get a chubby eroticizing the unfamiliar like every other arrogant world oppressor.

5. Someone’s Name – This is the #1 reason to invest in tattoo removal technologies. I’m gonna make a trillion dollars offa dimwits who believe in “forever.” Some of us prefer to honour our loved ones through concepts like “being nice to them” and “having fond memories of them” but I guess that’s not literal enough.

6. Belly/Tit tats – Speaking of forever, looks like you presume that you’re gonna be young and toned for all time. I know you’ve listened to the cautions concerning weight gain, skin stretching, and sagging, but you haven’t really heard them, have you. In a few years, it will be fun watching you watch yourself transform into a monster.

7. Stars – Really? Are you 10? Still playing with Crayola ink and rubber stamps? Do you still paint your nails with white out? Star symbols should be banned unless they’re appearing in a full sleeve of the cosmos which, of course, most of you wouldn’t have the balls to get.

8. Astrological Symbols – What a clichéd way to pigeonhole yourself. Who am I? Shoot, I keep forgetting. Wait, if I tattoo a scale on my ass I’m sure I’ll remember! *Zzzzzzzz.* There we are, I’m a scale. I’m “diplomatic and charming.” Clearly.

9. Tribal arm bands – Some fiddly and unoriginal lines around your arm or ankle don’t make you cool. Whatever happened to bracelets? Why aren’t they enough anymore?

10. Teardrops – Smarten up. These tats must be taken gravely seriously, since it insinuates that you’re a gang member who has killed people. I don’t know how certain members of the “mainstream” got hold of this and turned it into a cutesy thing to perma-etch on your face, but it’s not an effin’ beauty mark!

11. Little red tattoos – Red-inked tats usually look like scabs, which means you’re always gonna look gross. If only removing them was as easy (and fun!) as picking them off.

12. Butter/Dragonflies – Hi girlfriend. Your tattoo is as pretty and sweet as cupcakes at bridal showers. It’s not offensive, not suggestive, not thoughtful. But let’s be honest, it’s totally easier to order your body art from the catalogue than having to think too much. Who cares if everyone else has the same one…you’re already standardizing yourself through your H&M wardrobe anyhow.

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

First Date Tips

You’ve asked him/her out. Now what? These 10 handy tips will prevent you from totally fucking up.

1. Show up with your date’s phone number written on your hand. It’s like, “See? I’m eager to meet you but I’m still too cool for paper.”

2. Look hot, but not like you tried too hard. Ladies: tight T-shirt in red or black, and jeans. Gentlemen: same thing. You’ll look like twins who screw.

3. You must demonstrate what I call ‘green light body language’: Let your date catch you scopin’ his/her bod. Lean in slightly, slowly lick your lips and awkwardly rejoin the conversation. If your crush blushes, congratulations, you’ve passed Go!

4. Alcohol makes you calmer, makes your date look hotter and makes you sluttier. Then, if you decide that you don’t like him/her after all, blame it on those lovable tricksters, Magical Mr. Beefeater and his side-kick, Tonic.

5. Ladies, unless you date Bay street men, pay for yourselves. If he won’t let you, pick up the tab on the second date. Students are poor and life is expensive. Tough titty, princess.

6. Gentlemen, offer to pay. Pretend chivalry still exists. She’ll put up a little fight but you must smack her wallet down. This shows her you’re a powerful, take-charge, kind of fuckface.

7. Dinner and a movie? Yawn. If you care to seem interesting at all, at least suggest home-made Pad Thai and an Indie rock show.

8. If the date goes well, kiss. I recommend soft and wet to begin with, then passionate and French followed by a “I had a really great time,” then sneak in another kiss for the road. NOTE: Fucks don’t go on the road; those should be saved until you’re sure you're ready to spend hours writhing with carnal pleasure and/or catching his/her crotch cooties.

9. Have a plan in case the date goes horribly awry. Turn your cell to vibrate and get a reliable buddy to phone . If you wanna bail, answer the phone all, “Oh hi baby, yeah I’m out with the girls/guys.” This allows your date to hate you for being a cheater rather than cry themselves to sleep from rejection.

10. There has been much debate about how long you should wait before phoning. Yes, I said PHONING, not TEXTING. Next-day is desperate. Three days is uninterested. So how about a voice mail on the second day. There, it’s settled. :)

First published in The Eyeopener, November 2002.

Thursday, November 10, 2011

Pests Make Me Puke

1. Bedbugs – It’s really dumb that a crawling flax seed could haunt my dreams this way. You know what assholes, I’m gonna spray the GTA with DDT and eradicate every last one of you! I’ll neuro-intoxicate every other living thing along with you, but at least we’ll get some precious, eternal, sleep for once.

2. Mice – You’re cute and deserve to die. Especially the one in my house who I’ve named Fink. He’s the little bugger who horses around behind the stove, gorges on peanut butter without springing the trap AND THEN shits inside my John Fluevog shoes. Your ass is grass, pal!

3. Ear Wigs – Didn’t used to bother me until I found one in my ear. Seriously.

4. Lice – Oh god, you’ve been the bane of my existence since childhood. One kid in the class would get lice, implicating everyone else. We’d line up and be subjected to examinations by rough-handed nurses. Just when I thought the reign of terror was over, I’m told I have to fear “adult” lice living in dudes’ underpants.

5. Moths – Don’t be fooled by their “I’m sorta like a butterfly” routine. Butterflies are sweet and lovely because they wouldn’t DREAM of doing the following bullshit: Fly erratically, hide in the dark, end up in your hair, commit suicide by candle flame, pollute your rice with worms, or eat holes in the cashmere sweater that flatters your rack.

6. Cockroaches – Clearly I’m a Princess. I’d never seen one until 2006. But now that I’ve chosen the artist’s life, I’m well acquainted with them. Particularly the june-bug sized black ones that inhabit the basement of Massey Hall who play death metal sets behind the bar when no-one’s listening.

7. Fruit Flies – Quit flying up my nose, winged dot! You’re the reason I abstain from bananas. Even winter won’t kill you. Who the hell do you think you are, arrogantly surviving my glue traps and slipping between the grate of my swatter?

8. Mosquitoes – Not only do you sound like tinnitus, but you ruin all outdoor leisure time such as picnics and camping. And you spread Malaria and Black Nile, which is fairly inconsiderate as well.

9. Black Flies – I thought people were exaggerating the threat of these little insects. And then I got bit by one on the face and it took 6 months to heal. This “pimple” threatened to ruin my life long after your inconsequential life had ended, and for that, I’m gonna spray myself in the face with Deet every time I’m outside. So there muthafuckaz!

10. House centipedes – Because you scuttle. Humans instinctively fear things that scuttle. Even the world “scuttle” gives us the heebie-jeebies. That’s all I know about you, but you can still fuck off.

11. Red Ants – Personal vendetta: One summer, I was enjoying the evening on a park bench near the ravine. I felt a burning pinch on my back, and got up to find them all over me. Then I felt a pinch on my ass. I had to hide under a bridge like a troll, remove my pants like a pedophile, and shake them out like a junkie in a cold sweat. The culprit was moments away from biting my lady’s secret.

12. Rats – I kinda liked you guys for awhile. Like as pets. But if you reach a certain size, my switch flips. The fear and scapegoating bubbles inside, I find myself throwing the Black Death in your face, which isn’t really your fault, and didn’t really affect me, but I’m mad so I grab at shitty things in the universe to blame you for.

13. Squirrels – “Are really just rats with puffy tails.” Discuss.

NOTE: Bees, snakes and spiders didn’t make this list. I’m friends with these clans because they’re less obnoxious than these other monsters. I want to see humans form an alliance with the not-so-bad pests and fund their attack on the abhorrent ones. When the war is over, we can celebrate our triumph with oodles of honey, snake skin purses, and spider silk mutant foods!

Tuesday, November 8, 2011

Rock Stars to Shag

1. David Bowie – Cause it would feel like shagging 100 magical dudes. I’m pretty sure he’s descended from unicorns.

2. Jim Cuddy – Between positions, he could teach you to sing like that. And afterwards, he’d let you sleep in one of his hunky cowboy shirts.

3. Chris Martin – He seems like a roses and Hallmark kind o’ guy. He’s got a beautiful wife, two kids, and an English accent. Pretty dreamy…but keep your eyes peeled. He might have herpes or a fetish for shemales.

4. Jim Morrison – A shirtless poet in leather pants? Yes please! I also love him when he was fat and bearded, cause I’m an equal opportunist.

5. Sting – Swoon! He’s a red hot fox! I bet if I asked him to, he’d use his alleyway wiles to punch the dentures right out of Jon Bon Jovi’s mouth.

6. Eddie Vedder – Obviously! Cause he’s the talented and philanthropic figurehead for a musical movement! He said screw you to Ticketmaster! He’s pals with Neil Young! And for a functioning alcoholic, his skin is gorgeous!

7. Fleet Foxes – They’d be warm and smell like campfire. You could wear them like buffalo hides until the park ranger busted you.

8. Courtney Love – For the life experience. And a wicked Hunter S. Thompson-style story you could sell to Rolling Stone, if they still care. And cause Billy Corgan might drop by – once again – if anyone still cares.

9. Beck – I adore his music. But the guy’s pretty mysterious. I bet he’d play hard to get by making you convert to Scientology before any clothes came off.

10. Hayden – Only due to accessibility. He lives in my neighbourhood and he looks like he needs some cheering up. We could grab a coupla coffees and go for a walk in the park… think about kissing…but not kiss, and walk home separately cause sometimes it’s more comfortable being alone.

11. Morrissey – If a warlock crept into your deepest mind-chamber and started picking up all the odds and sods strewn on the floor, he could mash them together to make this hottie: peppy pop music + wrist-slashing lyrics + facetiousness + punk pompadour + superman jawline + politically outspoken + love of animals = cock fight with Robert Smith.

12. Robert Plant – Because, baby, he’d give you every inch of his love. Would be a pity to waste it.

Saturday, November 5, 2011

Super Bitchy Fashion Don’ts

A. If you’re wearing Crocs it’s mandatory I puke on them.

B. Nice gladiator sandals. Too bad they make your legs look short and will be unfashionable tomorrow.

C. I guess you’re wearing those Converse All Stars cause having the same shoes as every other marketing victim is the new uniform for rebellion, eh hipster?

D. Judging by your flip flops and tan, I see you’ve recently been lounging at the cottage. Wait, you say you haven’t left Toronto all summer? And it’s been rainy and cold the whole time? Uh oh. I hear the penalty for posing as a lady of luxury is to go down to the dock with a rope and learn how to tie knots so you can hang yourself.

E. Despite how you’ve thrown a belt around its waist and are wearing it with leggings, everyone knows your “dress” is actually a shirt.

F. Upon further inspection, I’m noticing that those leggings are flattering your camel toe. Pretty!

G. Simply having thighs doesn’t entitle you to show off how dimply they are in those short-shorts.

H. Hey hippie chick, your tattered clothes make you look homeless. I guess having no worldly possessions is the epitome of green living, hey?

I. If American Eagle and Hollister were slogans that implied more than “I’m a tourist from upstate New York,” the world could be in the throes of a political/intellectual awakening rather than a mall-zombie infestation.

J. I guess you’ve lost your purse and that’s why you’re carrying your shit in one of those cloth shopping bags? And by the way, even if the shopping bag says “Coach” or “Harrods” or “Tiffany,” it doesn’t mean anyone’s being duped into thinking you shop there…but nice try princess.

K. Hey Johnny Public, those camouflage cargo shorts say “I am AWOL from caring about how I look.”

L. Let’s hope that’s an ironic handlebar moustache, and not actually a signpost that you’re a bear who picks up cubs at O’Grady’s on Friday nights. (Not that anyone minds…it’s just that girls will entirely quit showing sexual interest in you, is all).

M. Hey pimp daddy, your XL shirt fits like a little girl’s nightie. P.S. Pimps are modern-day slave masters so quit calling yourself that.

N. Don’t actually follow draconian dos and don’ts lists. Creativity is sexy, even if you fail miserably and end up looking like a sack of rainbow crap.

From August 2009.

Thursday, November 3, 2011

I Frown on Fame

Here’s some “celebrities” who make me mad. Let their stories be a warning.

1. I carry personal baggage surrounding Charlie Sheen. I keep vowing to never speak of him or his fans again, but I’ll do it this one last time. Sheen brings out the crazy in everyone. He’s like a full moon. Which I hope has finally waned, cause that was a horrendous wax.

2. Kim Kardashian is like a rash that keeps reappearing on the ass of the news. Yes, that’s mean…but seriously, why is she a celebrity? What does she do? Is her life a pop-art performance piece?

3. Speaking of performance art, Lady Gaga is someone I’m trying really hard to hate. But every time I see her on TV, I guilt-love her a little more. People overstate her subversive monster qualities, but at least her near-nudity is more interesting than Rihanna’s.

4. After five looooong years of hearing about this woman, I’m pretty sure the words “Paris Hilton” have returned to meaning, “a four-star hotel in Paris.” What a relief! Call me old-fashioned, but I like to maintain a healthy separation between names and places, church and state, the rich and famous.

5. And her sidekick, Nicole Richie. Motherhood put an end to paparazzi-pics of her bones jogging in a saggy bikini at the beach. Now it’s the baby bump who’s making headlines. Insiders say the bump was seen stumbling out of a nightclub with Jessica Simpson’s bump. Humps and Lumps were waiting in the car.

6…and that’s how Fergie drove the last nail into the Black Eyed Peas’ coffin. Humps and Lumps declined to comment.

7. What’s the difference between Ryan Gosling and Ryan Reynolds? I experience acute anxiety when my girlfriends start swooning over one (or both?) of them. I swoon too, but I’m actually just faking it to uphold society’s strictly-held social norms.

8. Jersey Shore…sorry, where is this place? Where did the show’s producers find these creatures? I saw some interesting characters sleeping on benches outside the Centre for Addiction and Mental Health this afternoon – I’m gonna start a reality show too!

9. Justin Bieber. I think I’m the only person who still hasn’t heard any of his music. I don’t have any justifiable problem with the kid, but he’s no Raffi, that’s sure as heck!

10. In conclusion, these people are all just victims of the celebrity system. They are artists and entrepreneurs struggling to live and work in peace, but are unfairly hounded by the blood-thirsty media. Meanwhile, consumers of that media are equally victimized by being forced to click on celebrity websites, attend cash-grab live performances, and pine for knockoff versions of red carpet looks. It’s a cycle that kills. Donate now to save lives.

Ten Love Tips

1. Most importantly, don’t trade the Rolls for a ride in the convertible...unless it’s red with racing stripes. Then it’s ‘K.

2. Be Aloof. ALOOF. Aloof.

3....while simultaneously acting like a drunken whore. (This is tricky. If you’re having trouble, think of Madonna circa Truth or Dare or most men).

4. Despite popular belief, if both of you have garlic breath, it DOES NOT cancel itself out. You both smell.

5. Never send anonymous emails to your crush. That’s worse than leaving 7-page single spaced love letters in his locker (if you didn’t learn your lesson in grade 10, I pity you, darling).

6. Never say “let’s just be friends.” Nobody buys that crap. Instead try “fuck buddies?”

7. For the ladies, try eating more bananas or popcicles in public. Guaranteed results.

8. For the fellas, carry an acoustic guitar on your back wherever you go. You’ll surely earn “sensitivity”/ “rock God” points. If you learn to play it, bonus!

9. On a first date, don’t ask about his/her sexual history. If I wanted to date my OB/GYN I would, asshole.

10. Rebounds have a bad rap. But remember, no-one wants a heart-on-his-sleeve pussy unless, say, he’s a pussy with an acoustic guitar and 10 original songs about his ex. In which case, go for him ladies!

[First published in The Eyeopener, 2002]

Wednesday, November 2, 2011

How to Win With Your Honey’s Parents

Become a master bullshit artist. Fill your canvas with vibrant fibs and textured tales then hang it high in a guilt-gilded frame.

1. If you’re invited to dinner with your lover’s parents, be sure to bring a bottle of wine. And not the gut-rotting piss YOU drink. Save up for a nice bottle of red. You want Ma and Pa to get drunk and judge you favourably – at least until they sober up and realize you’re a fuck-face.

2. Ladies: Trade in the crop tops, mini skirts and hooker boots for sweater sets, long skirts and pearls. The June Cleaver look will make you seem less diseased by partyboys of yesteryear.

3. Gentlemen: Trade in the band T-shirts, Diesel jeans and stinky kicks for golf shirts, beige Dockers and polished loafers. You’ll look like Tiger Woods, but moms love his polite asexuality.

4. It’s not a dinner, it’s a sales pitch. Talk yourself up: your academic achievements, your lofty career goals, your love of family. But keep quiet about the size of your endowments because no-one likes a boastful bastard.

5. Rather, compliment their son or daughter’s endowments. For extra points, turn it into a compliment about the family’s superb genes. Example: “Hey Mrs. Something, I see where Donna got her killer rack.” (Clearly, I jest. No booby jokes at the dinner table!)

6. Read the business section regularly. Next time you bump into Mom and Dad, pretend you have a trillion shares of Pfizer stocks. Don’t forget to mention your imaginary trust fund, your pretend loaded grandfather and the money tree in your back yard.

7. If your girlfriend’s mother has a Mrs. Robinson vibe, do not be alone with her – even when she asks you to “help her with something upstairs.” Help only if Mr. Robinson will be there too. Orgies are making a comeback – you wouldn’t want to wimp out and appear rude.

8. Compliment Mother’s decorating style. Something like, “I love how you’ve combined Postwar Functionalism with modern French Country in your sitting room, Mrs. Whatever. Why, that faux-Ikea sofa is simply divine!”

9. Compliment Father’s car. Try, “Your minivan successfully fuses style and safety, Mr. So-and-So! These air bags allow me enough peace of mind to properly enjoy the luxury of this dog-scented interior.”

10. If the aforementioned tips do not help you weasel your way into their good graces, be patient. Many parents reckon the longer you stick around with their offspring, the better you are. That, or the deeper their loathing for you will grow.

Next week: Disposing of the Bodies: Ten Tips.

[First published in The Eyeopener, 2004]