Invasion of the Hipsters

There's a Hipster in a Brown Corderoy Jacket ravaging a flute on my balcony. If what he's doing could be called "playing" he's been doing it inexcusibly poorly for the last 25 minutes. My livingroom is currently bursting at the seams with quirky personalities. Everywhere you look you see noggin devouring headphones, enough sweater vests to send a room full of 80 year old men into drooling euphoripa, and so many skin tight pants that a full on birthrate crisis may ensue.

I just went downstairs to get a cup of tea and witnessed one of them doing something unspeakable with a pool noodle. Who are these men that are so hip if you put them in Grandma she'd walk again?

Moses' Improv team obviously.

They lost the use of their rehearsal space last week when the University started its renovations, so Moses valiently suggested that our place would be the perfect venue. What with all the complete lack of open space floor plan filled with many breakable objects we have, obviously our place was the perfect option for a grop of 15 exuberant boys to meet and flail creatively.

I've seen them perform live once and that was enough for me. I am usually very supportive of both Moses and Duncan's atistic endeavors as they tend to be very supportive about mine. But after my last experience with Moses' Troup's 24 hour improv marathon (For Charity!) I will never attend one of their shows again.


The idea was Moses'. It was some kind of fund rasier or another where patrons would pay by the hour for their attendance. I stayed for all 24 hours, mostly to be supportive and to provide coffee and snacks when needed.


It started out okay. The jokes started out very clever, but at about hour 5 it deteriorated rapidly into simple dick, fart, masturbation and other "Easy Target Jokes" At about hour 10 it got really really scary, with the boys resorting to nudity and simply yelling at each other.

This would be why I'm hiding upstairs with my cup of tea. I've seen them all naked - and it's hard to look them in the eyes after that If they're not gone in an hour I'm going out the window and going to a movie. Don't wait up.

Gordon Ramsay - You don't know him like I do.

I've become a huge fan of Gordon Ramsay. This is not the Ramsay that North America seems to know - The one who swears like a particularly ill bred thirteen year old inner city kid and who sold his soul to Fox for several million dollars. The Ramsay I know is the jolly Scottish chef who's quick as a whip, charming as all hell, and hosts a delightful multi-genre show on UK television called, "The F-word".

The F-Word (Food) Is a multi-segmented talk show/cooking show/reality TV show/personal interest show. The show features clever and witty guests who run Oscar Wilde-ian circles around the already quick by American standards Ramsay - guests like Jonathan Ross, Kim and Aggie, and many other UK personalities.

The personal interest bits are hilarious, Featuring "The Times" food critic Giles Coren - doing segments on everything from the exploring reality behind detox (The professional answer - It does nothing but "Sex Up Your Poo") to answering the question "Do chefs have a lower sperm count because their groins are near heat all the time (No Verdict). If you're up for informative awesomeness I highly recommend checking out some episodes.

Below is one of my favourite clips where Ramsay takes on James May of "Top Gear" which is a British car show, first in a test of manliness and then in a full on Fish Pie Cook Off. Enjoy!

Tooth Tattoos - Another Segment of Body Altering Insanity

I thought that I had seen it all with eyeball tattooing and other such physical altering insanity. But when I went to get my coffee and sit down to write this morning, my usual Barista had a new decoration he was showing off a - Tooth Tattoo.

Before you start cringing and feeling a dull ache in your own mouths, don't worry. These are just crowns with designs etched into them. After the artist finishes the illustration on the fake tooth a dentist installs them like they would a cap or a crown. So no, they're not actually drilling tiny ink filled lines into your enamel.

The results are far less enthralling than I think the $75-$200 the procedure is worth. You need to be really close to actually see any of the details in the illustration and it'll be difficult to convince anyone to get that close to you because from a distance it simply looks like you suffer from abhhorant oral hygiene. At least these are easily removeable when you realize that having a rooster tattooed on a molar is less cool than you thought it would be, Chinese Zodiac or no.

Kids Say The Darndest things.

I just watched a small child of about four have a fit outside a public washroom because "She was perfectly capable of pooing on her own power." Her words, not mine. I love kids, as long as I'm watching them from a distance and can give them back afterwards.

Febreze Fiasco

Science has come up with some pretty cool stuff in the past. I've gotta say that I greatly enjoy this whole "Movies" thing and "Vespas" are pretty cool too. On the more serious side, I am certainly all for Alzheimers Research. But there are some things that I really wish had stayed un-invented. For example this little bastard pictured left.

I know there are many people who would disagree with me. They believe Febreze is the new miracle of the modern age. Light, wonder, excitement, and freshness are promised with a spritz of a bottle. They're lying to you and the world is worse off for it.

I used to work in a restaurant where 40 people, both male and female, would squeeze into a shoebox of a room at the same time to change into a uniform. We'd then perform one of the dirtiest jobs in the world for 6-8 hours, then do it all over again 5 to 7 days in a row. At the end of a shift you would be covered in booze, food, pen ink, and child refuse. It used to be that you would have to take your uniform home and wash it every night, and indeed that would be the hygienic thing to do. Then science came up with Febreze, and one of the boys brought a bottle to work. Then all the boys started using it to "Clean" their uniforms, spritzing themselves down with this Sin in a Bottle. They would only take their clothes home once every two weeks only to get the stains out, but they were convinced that soon, the technology would be available to get do that for them too. (I stopped working there before the invention of the Tide to go Pen. Thank god or this would have been a compounded rant.) They completely failed to understand that Febreze is not a replacement for washing your clothes. It simply coveres up the smell, compounding it into a olifactory nightmare.

This has been an issue I've had with this stuff for years, with people using it to "Clean" things. That's not how it works. It's basically an air fresehener that is skin and clothing safe. I mention this because Moses brought a bottle home yesterday. I found him spritizing the couch, completely failing to vaccum anything up first, just spritzing directly over any popcorn kernals, loose change, and various other couch dwelling features. He plans to start using it instead of aftershave because he likes the smell that much. Duncan then walked in the room, sniffed, and said, "It smells awesome in here!" then went to spritz down his bed.

Which makes me wonder: in all the commercials they show women using the product. Is that simply to throw us off the track that what they have created is the first step in a diabolical plan to enslave mens minds through pheremones?

There is no other explanation. I suggest we take arms against this menace now, before it's too late, and everything is filthily freshly scented.

What's wrong with the world:

My friend Cynthia sent me this link in an e-mail. It's a You Tube video that won't allow me to embed so I'll just give you the link.

http://youtube.com/watch?v=hIGfOYXNolA

I tried not to find it funny. I mostly yelled , "Put down the camera and help him!" at the screen.

Though for the sake of aptness I hope the one in the dinosaur costume is Darwin.

My dream just walked out the door - Should I chase it down?

Stella's an interesting girl. She moved here about 6 years ago from Calgary. Being an Alberta farm girl like myself, Stella and I bonded over our mutual love of big dogs, men who wear cowboy hats and drive pick up trucks, and a past rooted in monumentus alcohol consumption. She told her parents that she thought it was important to go to school in another Province because the University here would provide her with a independent out look on life which would enable her to grow as a person and a woman.

This was obviously bullshit.

The real reason was that Stella is obsessed with an actor who lives and works locally. He's been in a lot of films, mostly Canadian, but he did have a small role in Blade 3. No, it's not Ryan Reynolds, although I'm sure you could totally understand if it was. It's this guy:

Callum Keith Rennie. Dapper, no? She moved here in hopes that at some point in the extended filming season that this city provides, she might run into him and she could explain how she felt. Then he would run off with her and they would produce tiny genetic-jackpot babies - ideally of course.

After 6 years, Stella finally got her wish. She met the man of her dreams. Stella works in a small coffee shop downtown. It's a very ritzy - $9 for a cup of coffee filtered through the silken hairs of Taiwanese princesses - kind of place, but then Stella's that kind of girl. She was wiping up at table with her back turned to the door, when she turned around she looked straight into the black sweater of someone directly in front of her, about 3" away from her face. She looked way up, ready to fire a sardonic comment at whomever was invading her bubble and gazed into the face she had seen a hundred times on various screens - I'm not going to insult your intelligence by telling you who it was.

He looked down at her. Their eyes connected for a brief moment that for Stella, seemed to last an eternity. Then he turned around without a word and walked out the door, down the street and out of her life. Around Stella the proverbial rain poured.

She showed up on my doorstep last night with a case of her namesake beer (Stella Artois, Obviously) under one arm and a satisfyingly violent Japanese horror film under the other. I asked her why she didn't chase him down after all these years, if only just to say hello. This was what she said:

"Today I stared my dream in the face. It turned and walked out the door. At that point you need to decide if you're the kind of person who chases it down, or if you're the kind of person who watches as it walks away. I guess I know who I am now."

Aside from my belief that her dialogue is now being written by Kevin Costner , I'm really proud of her for letting this go. Besides, we know my feelings on Celebrity encounters.

You don't need drugs to have a surreal time

As I believe I have mentioned before, Duncan is a film student. Along with actually learning how movies are made, he's doing studies in its origins; which means that each week Duncan comes home with a DVD of experimental films dating from the late 1800's to the late 1920's. I've gotta say, it's pretty inspiring. I'm really enjoying the extra time spent with Duncan. Aside from the fact he makes spectacular popcorn - He knows exactly what time to punch into the microwave to get maximum poppage with minimum burn - his commentary and insight on the films we're watching are really interesting, and thanks to his prof, We've been able to watch some really cool Dada-ist, Futurist, and Surrealist films.

Specifically I've started taking an interest in Salvador Dali, a proponent of the original French Surrealist movement, pictured here proffering a smooch to another idol of mine, Andy Warhol. What I love about Dali is that he creates spectacular dream-like paintings, novels, and films that are ripe with meaning and beautiful imagery, creating a visual poetry.
What's fascinating though is that anyone looking at one of Dali's Paintings - Melting Clocks, The Dream, etc.- Is going to see something totally different from what every one else is going to see. Except the presence of ants. Dali had a weird thing with ants and they appear in almost all of his works.

That wasn't the only thing about Dali that was weird. The guy was playing with a deck that contained only the Ace of Spades and the 3 of Diamonds. Often upon just being introduced to people he would start to giggle. When asked what was so funny he would reply with something like, "I was imagining what you would look like with a single twist of excrement on your head." When you hung out with Dali you were in for a scatological good time.

Everyone just assumes Dali was a dope fiend. At his most prolific in the 1920's, opiates were in full use by many artists in French creative circles. But interestingly enough Dali was intensely anti-drugs. Instead he believed in the power of the waking dream, that precious moment between sleeping and waking where he believed the mind was at its most creative. So he built a device to help him harness this. It was an elaborate contraption which would sit on his kitchen table. He would set his head in this device at some point during the day, take a cat nap and the device would drop his head onto the table the moment he fell asleep, waking him up. In a state of half asleep grogginess he would start to create.
So when I hear about all these people who believe that real creativity can only come with mind expanding chemical trips I cough loudly in a way that sounds remarkably like "Dali."

Sweet Sweet Asian Candy

I've spoken before about the diversity of my neighborhood. I am pleased to report that there has been a delightful addition to that diversity. An Asian Supermarket has opened 1 subway stop away. You can't actually see it, but I'm doing a little happy dance. There's bootie shaking involved.

I'm so excited! Firstly, because they import lots of really cool foods from overseas. Secondly, because I'm all about trying new stuff. Thirdly, because Asian countries produce some of the best candy in the world.

I'm not saying that Beligians' don't have a good thing going with their chocolate. I'm sure that the United States is very proud of their Charlston Chew's and their Almond Joys. But in terms of exciting, fun, and delicious candy, no one can touch Asian countries.

Specifically I'm all about Yan Yan, (Pictured left) They're basically biscut sticks that you dip into the provided flavored goo. I'm aware there's lots of variations on this in Western culture, like Dunkaroos. Yet, Yan Yan's are superior in a number of ways:


1. They're less expensive ($1 per vs. $3.95)


2. Yan Yans taste better. I'm not sure why they taste better. Maybe they use higher quality products. Maybe the good people at Dunkaroos haven't figured out how to appropriately use Cheddar Cheese in their chocolate, vanilla and strawberry dip - It's a key ingredient in Yan Yans.


3. While Dunkaroos have a stupid name and an even more ridiculous ad campaign, Yan Yan's gimmick is that they have "Fun Lines" printed on the sticks like this:


According to their website some other stick themes include:

FOX- Beware of lies

STAG BEETLE -Love it

How is that not awesome???

As opposed to Dunkaroos that seems to have a strange belief that Kangaroos are not only verbally sentient, they also have a profound love of x-treme sports.

Pffft. Sheer foolishness. I mean obviously Foxes are notorious liars. They're famed for that. And the Mole in a hole bit rhymes so it must be true. But a Kangaroo riding a motorbike? That's just western decadence at its worst.

Besides - Yan Yans Feature Rockin' Fun Onomatopia's.

UPDATE: I just read the nutritional information on the back of my cup of Yan Yan. I am going to be 300 lbs by thursday.

Let them eat cake! Well fine...pie then...

You would have thought I'd have learned my lesson last time, but precedence has shown that I have the capacity of a sixteen year old boy in terms of glutton-for-punishmentness, and so I agreed to go with my friend to another, and say it like you would "Pigs in Space", VEEEEEGGGGAAAAANNNN POTLUCK!

I didn't eat the balls this time. Don't worry.

This round, I thought I would be proactive and bring something that I could eat if things went bad. After much research - By which I mean I asked Moses - I discovered that at the end of my long street there is an entire vegan district. There's not a dead thing sold within 2 blocks of these stores. So I ventured into it to attempt to find something that would subdue the ravenous Vegans.

I was awash in an unfamiliar sea of dreadlocks, sarongs, and patchouli. Every store seemed to be selling something hemp themed or "Organic". About 15 minutes into my exploration, I ran across a small Bistro that was selling cakes, curries, veggie sticks and other kinds of share-y food. A large sign in the window featured the word VEGAN above portraits of a smiling cow, a chicken giving and inexplicable thumbs up and a pig that bore a striking resemblance to "Jodie" from the Amityville Horror. Taking this as a sign that here at least, barnyard animals were friends - not food, i ventured inside. I was greeted with the sight of a man sitting at a table, dressed a Rasta cap, sarong and filthy tank top burrowing his hands into a huge glass bowl of couscous. He then shoveled the handful into his mouth, allowing whatever didn't fit into his gaping maw to cascade to the floor and the table. I was in a world where table manners were a product of the "Man" and thus were not welcome.

My first indication that something terrible was afoot was there was no menu, and thus, no prices for anything. You basically just looked at what they had behind the glass case and then pointed to express your choice. Everything looked exactly the same to me. A different variation on a shade of yellow, green, or red base with unidentifiable lumpy bits that in no way involved meat.

I chose to go with the only thing that looked not only recognizable, but delicious too. A cake. A cake that looked very much like the one above. I said hi, to the girl behind the counter who treated me as if I had personally imprisoned the small child who had made my jeans. She refused to actually talk to me but instead chose to communicate with me through a series of grunts and gestures.

I pointed at the cake and she hunched up to the cash drawer. (No actual cash register, just a float under the counter and a note pad composed their business equipment. Sketchy!) She did some tabulating with a pencil and then said, "fivvysnixdummers."

"Excuse me?" I said.

She looked at me like I was a mental patient with particularly socially unacceptable behavioral problems and showed me the pad of paper she had done her additions on.

A $56 cake??? ARE YOU SERIOUS??? I don't care how nice it looks. I don't care if it was miraculously made without eggs or milk. I don't care if it was handcrafted by a blind Tibetan on the eve that he achieved enlightenment, then sent to the shop via an elaborate series of trained doves. $56 for a cake is stupid. How can the average bohemian afford that? How much money can there be in chaining yourself to trees? I politely said, "I think you're trying to gouge me." and then made for the door.

There was a bakery down the street that sold me a vegan strawberry-rhubarb pie for twelve bucks. I ended up eating most of it. It was delicious.

P.S. A shout out to C2 Choices for the mentioning my Spice Test Article in their Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon post. Thanks for the link back guys!

Someone Wasn't Thinking

Or if they were they have a wicked sense of humor. My friend Patty works in a children's science center. This center is very prominant in the community and often does lots of shows for the public outside of the center. Their experiements range from the typical making your hair stand on end with electricity to cool stuff like this:


That trick was brought to you by the awesome power of Science.

She's been scheduled to help with a show tomorrow out in the suburbs. This is not unusal. What is unusual is who she and her co-workers will be doing the show for. She's been booked to help out with a branch of Power Lab! Vacation Bible School! (Exclamation points are added by them, not me.) Basically the point of this program is to teach the wonders of Jesus through Science. Every day they pick a bible verse and do science experiments that reinforce Jesus' power. I don't totally get it to be honest and the website doesn't really explain much about how that works, but apparently thousands of kids dance and sing Jesus into their hearts...and science happens...

This to me seems odd that you would then book a non-denomination Science Facility to do demos for you. Is Science that universal? Am I being biased and naive?

Patty is not comfortable with performing the experiments and then thanking god that it worked, and she's really concerned about offending someone. It will probably end up being an eggshell riddled show. She hopes that it holds true that all the word loves Liquid Nitrogen experiments regardless of denomination.

Star Struck

Ben Stiller came into my work today. He came with his wife, Christine Taylor, and his father Jerry Stiller. We get a fair amount of celebrities in where I work, but usually I have the day off when they come in. So far I've had the questionable pleasure of meeting such lame celebrities as Grey's Anatomy Pariah Isaiah Washington (I've never actually seen the show before), children's singer Charlotte Diamond (I was more of a Raffi kid), A barrage of hockey players (I come from a curling-based family), Jessica Alba (Biggest bitch you will ever want to smack), and of course Sara Michelle Ghellar (My least favourite cast member of Buffy)

But on my days off I've missed meeting Colin Firth twice, Joan Cusack, Molly Shannon, and Jennifer Connolly, all stars that I hold a great respect for and would love to someday write for.

So, to have Ben Stiller in the building, who's writing I do respect tremendously gave me a spectacular rush.(You liked Zoolander. You know you did)

We can be fired if we talk to celebrities. So I didn't talk to him. I did do a drive by check in without my uniform on just because I'm that much of a loser. But Duncan and I have had this conversation. He's worked as a P.A. on a bunch of film sets over the summer, and knows how much Celebrities hate not being able to have a normal life. I mean poor Ben Stiller is upstairs, indoors, wearing his sunglasses and a hat trying to have a good, inconspicuous time. All that gear can't be comfortable. I feel sorry for him.

So I'm going to say what I would have said to him now - Just to get it out of my system:

Hi Mr. Stiller. I'm not here to stalk you. I'm not here to gush. I'm not even here to pump you for a job opportunity. I think you're very funny Mr. Stiller, and I respect your work immensely. On Occasion I have been known to throw things at people while quoting 'If you can dodge a wrench, you can dodge a ball'. Thank you for the laughs, Sir. You're very inspiring.

And I'm done the wank. Thanks for bearing with me.

Onomatopi-aaaaaahhhhhh!!

In my writing class, we just finished discussing the use of the Onomatopia. For those of you that were asleep during 4th grade English, or were educated in the US public school system (Cheap shot. Sorry.) An Onomatopia is how you convert and auditory sound to visual writing. For instance were I to smack Duncan, who has left coffee grounds in the sink for the 5th time this week, across the back of the head depending on what object I used to perpetrate the violence I may write down one of the words to the left to describe that sound. All clear? Excellent. Let's move right along.

The ever so helpful prof of this writing class provided us with a list of words that we may find useful in spiceing up our writing. I for one believe that written words emulating sound is a matter of preference, but one word and its handy reference caught my eye:

Schluff - The sound made when dead skin is removed.

Can you imagine any writer worth their salt who would use this word? If, for instance, Thomas Harris had written:

As Buffalo Bill pressed his hunting knife into his latest victim, the skin slid off the flesh with a satisfying schluff.

Do you think you could have taken Silence of the Lambs seriously?

Or, in a less nightmare inducing senario, if an ad copy for a body wash commercial went with:

Body wash rinses away the dead skin follicles, leaving you with that fresh, schluffed feeling.

Insanity. Sheer Insanity. It does have a nice ring to it though. Kinda soothing...Schluff....Schluff...

see, to me it's more like the sound of walking through fresh snow. Duncan believes that it sounds like the fart of a duck, no flappage, just wind. Moses believes that is sounds more like the sound of a marshmallow being beaten into submission.

You can tell who the writer of the group is.

Sweet!!!

Duncan, Moses and I are all insanely huge Buffy the Vampire Slayer fans. You should be too. It took some coaxing for Moses to come around. Usually he would just come into the room as Duncan and I were watching an episode, scoff, repeat the last line one of the character's said in a mocking tone, then leave the room. But he started staying longer and longer, and his tones got less mocking. Soon, he stopped standing in the doorway and Duncan and I scooted over to make room...Moses was now one of us. I've watched all 7 seasons about 3 times now... The writing is just so damn good and the characters are just so exciting.

I'm not in it for the Sara Michelle Ghellar. Nor will you be. She's really the weakest link of the group. No, I'm in it for the spectacular dialogue and the hilarious supporting cast. If you haven't taken a trip into the Buffy-verse before I recommed you do.

Anyway, Joss Whedon (the creator of Buffy, Firefly, writer on toy story and all around intensly talented guy) along with his staple right hand man Captain Tight Pants (Nathan Fillion) and the Perpetrator of Douche Moves (Neil Patrick Harris) have put together this little web series called "Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog."

I could explain it in more detail but I couldn't do the awesomeness justice. Just check it out.

At least I'm not one of them

I know I rag a lot on the people in my bohemian sphere. Hobos, Bobos, Bohos, and Hipsters have all come within range of my whiny literary slapping. I was in one of the ritzier areas of town when I saw this on the window of an athletic wear store:


This left me thinking two things:


1. What does that mean?

2. Is it because of my lower class and consequent filthy mind that I think that's totally inappropriate.



What do you think?

Because They Must: The Top Six Most Ambitious Concept Albums and Why They Failed - Part 6 (Final)

King Diamond - Abigail, Them, Voodoo, etc.

The Concept

Various musical stories about ghosts, possessions, gruesome murders and generalized Heavy Metal meets Hollywood Goth-y horror.

Why it Sucks

For many of these artists the concept album was a one shot thing. For King Diamond it’s an entire career. He’s extremely popular in metal circles for his cheesy horror stories set to heavy metal, screamed in alternating falsetto and digitally altered "Cookie Monster" growls. Basically he sings ghost stories and makes a George Bernard Shaw-ian effort to reinstitute misogyny as a dramatic staple. (All his villains are women.) Admittedly a concept album that is one big horror story sounds pretty cool, but all the albums are exactly the same. The character ends in some Hollywood horror style scenario: Haunted Mansion, Empty Stretch of Road or what have you, something terrifying happens and then there’s a twilight zone style twist at the end. Good for you King Diamond. You’ve done exactly what a C-list horror movie director can do only there’s no visual element to satisfy your audience’s blood lust. You should be proud of yourself. The group has even made sequels to their albums (Abigail II: the REVENGE) to make them even more like an undying Hollywood horror franchise.

What you Should have Listened to Instead

There’s another guy who’s based his career around entertaining us with scary stories and wearing excessive make up and he was doing it decades before King Diamond. Alice Cooper’s “Welcome to my Nightmare” is as iconic as it is awesome and tells a more meaningful story than any of the ones in the King Diamond library. In terms of dudes who dress up in leather and more makeup than an 80’s soap opera star we’ll take Alice over King Diamond any day. We’re even willing to overlook Alice’s more recent republicanism and golf pro-am playing and Christianity because of how entertaining he is. He’s even made use of great authors like Neil Gaiman to work with him on albums and used Vincent Price way before Michael Jackson or anyone else did. I’m sure he’d pardon our sycophantic drool. We figure that’s why he wears leather pants in the first place - easy clean up.

And next week we go back to me posting actual content. Thanks for hanging in there guys. My GPA is in your debt.

Oh...and one more thing!

A quick shout out to the folks at Ask Mr. Biggs. The Bohemian Reject is now featured on their blurbs page because of the Roofie post. Thanks for the link back guys and keep up the great work!

And a very special thanks to Mr. Jeff Kaiser

Hi Folks!

Just a quick interlude here, then I'll let you get back to the concept albums. We've got a new mascott here at The Bohemian Reject. Her name is Penelope the Pretentious and she comes to use courtesy of the warped and twisted brain of a friend of mine, Jeff Kaiser. Jeff has been given licence to illustrate some of my posts, so over the next little while and in the future there'll be some changes to some of the old posts. I'll make sure to link back to any posts with changes so you don't have to go hunting for them.

I hope you all will join me in welcoming Penelope to the Bohemian family.

Because They Must: The Top Six Most Ambitious Concept Albums and Why They Failed - Part 5

Lou Reed - Metal Machine Music

The Concept
Guitar feedback played back at various speeds. Honestly. It was meant to be the obvious climax of the heavy metal genre which Reed claims to have invented. What it ends up being is a two sided disc of noise designed to shred your eardrums to small fun-sized bits.

Why it Sucks
This album is so bad that Lou Reed himself has had to field a number of questions as to whether or not the album was a joke. His response? “"I was serious about it. I was also really, really stoned." That about sums it up. The only good thing to come from Metal Machine Music is the fantastically creative ways that people have tried to describe what is on this album. Rolling Stone called it “the tubular groaning of a galactic refrigerator” and rock critic Lester Bangs said, “As a statement it's great, as a giant FUCK YOU it shows integrity—a sick, twisted, dunced-out, malevolent, perverted, psychopathic integrity, but integrity nevertheless." Well put. Psst. You might want to turn down the volume before you listen.

What you should have listened to instead
Anything. Sweet Judas on a Stick anything is better than this. But for the sake of argument let’s say:
In contrast this is only one of the coolest concept albums around brought to us by the master of the live show Wayne Coyne. Wayne, known specifically for having pitched a tent as far from the mainstream as possible, was inspired by hearing multiple cars playing different kind of music on their stereos in a large parking lot. So he came up with the idea of creating not one, but 4 albums that can be played simultaneously or on their own or in any combination with a multitude of speaker set up options, which beats out the syncing up of Dark Side of the Moon to the Wizard of Oz in a coolness factor of 11. The recording of this album nearly destroyed the band, and it was only in the awareness that they were creating one of the most amazing and groundbreaking that kept them together to create another awesome concept album, Yoshime Battles the Pink Robots.

Because They Must: The Top Six Most Ambitious Concept Albums and Why They Failed - Part 4

The Artist and The Album
The Louvin Brothers - Satan is Real

The Concept
You’ve probably seen this record on a number of lists that feature unusual album cover art and rightly so. The massive Satan standing above the evangelically clad brothers Louvin while a field of tires blazes like the fires of hell themselves has become an internet staple. But what exactly are they trying to get across with this vision of hell? Well it’s not to remind you to honor your father or your mother, or that sleeping with someone else’s life partner is wrong, but instead to spread a message of Sobriety. That’s it. It’s songs about drunks going to hell and the torment that they will encounter there. Recorded in the 1960’s it’s probably one of the earliest concept albums out there.

Why it Sucks
It makes a desperate attempt to scare you into not drinking. The preachy bastards want you to know that if you aren’t a bonified teetotaler you are going straight to hell. We get enough complaints from our moms and significant others that we drink too much without having two guys dressed like Colonel Sanders telling us too. Also, you should think that maybe God might not approve of your message when the fire you have set to get an effective album cover rages out of control and you and your brother are nearly consumed by the 10 foot tall flames. Because that’s what happened.

What you Should have Listened to Instead
If you’re in the market for an oldie but a goodie you should check out Sinatra’s Watertown. It’s a really touching story of a man who’s been left by his wife and now looks after the kids by himself. The gimmick – It’s a series of letters/soliloquies to his absent wife. It’s Frank’s croon with a 60’s beat and it’s all over sad, lonely and really quite charming. Plus at no point does he tell the listener they’re going to hell. That helps.

Because They Must: The Top Six Most Ambitious Concept Albums and Why They Failed - Part 3

The Artist and The Album

Ronnie James Dio - Magica
The Concept
It's dungeons and dragons only without the random excitement that only a twelve sided die can provide. The story puts the unassuming planet of “Blessing” against the invading forces of “Evilsyde”. Real creative there Dio. It’s a tale of might, magic, swords and sorcerers and a plucky hero who conquers the dark side for the forces of good.

Why it Sucks
Not only does Dio spend 70 minutes telling us about the most literal story of Good vs. Evil since Star Wars he then has the audacity to sum up the entire tale in a 5 minute anthem called “The Story Of Magica” at the end of the album. You know, just in case you had drifted off in a drug/alcohol induced haze. But really what else do you expect from a man who’s great contribution to the field of music is “Holy Diver”.

What you Should have Listened to Instead

Hard rockers telling someone else’s story. The Butterfly Ball and the Grasshopper feast is a concept album and subsequent rock opera based on a children’s poem of the same name. Nothing says quality entertainment like the musicians and singers of Deep Purple, Black Sabbath, Rainbow, and other quality pigment themed bands. Dio himself even makes an appearance and doesn’t suck. He was the vocalist for the album’s single “Love is all” which charted on the mainstream pop charts, which really can’t tell you much about the actual quality of the track but its notable. It also checks the “Vincent Price as a Narrator” box on the concept album list so it’s pretty well got the whole package including treating you like someone who’s actually paid attention to the story and don’t need it summarized.

Because They Must: The Top Six Most Ambitious Concept Albums and Why they Failed - Part 2

The Artist and The Album

Billy Idol - Cyberpunk

The Concept

Billy Idol takes on the works of William Gibson and accidentally ends up bitch slapping all of his fans, the fans of the novel, and music lovers in general.

Why it Sucks

It was supposed to be an auditory accompaniment to Gibson’s novel Neuromancer, a ground breaking novel about the influence of artificial intelligence, hackers, virtual reality and the dangers of multinational corporations. Gibson was also the man who coined the terms “Cyberspace” and “Cyberpunk”. What makes this album so catastrophic is that Billy Idol tried really really hard to make it not suck and it ruined his career. He was looking into the impacts of technology on our future and doing research with the likes of everyone that was up and coming from the creators of Boing Boing to the founders of Mondo 2000 and this was in 1993. He was given all this amazing raw material with inspiration from the world on the brink of a new technological frontier and this was what he came up with to represent the entire Hacker culture.

‘Nuff said.

What you should have Listened to Instead

One of the kings of the concept albums himself – David Bowie. In terms of making an album that was inspired by a book, Bowie’s Diamond Dogs is second to none. Based on Orwell’s 1984 and his own awesome apocalyptic vision of the future, Bowie had intended this album to be the score for a stage production of 1984, but Orwell’s widow denied him the rights. Bitch. What we do have though is a kick ass album with amazing tracks like “We are the dead” And of course the title track “Diamond Dogs”. This album is also responsible for the character of “Halloween Jack” better known as the name of Tim Burton’s King of The Pumpkin Patch from “Nightmare Before Christmas.” Does the awesomeness never end? The correct answer – No. It doesn’t.

Because They Must: The Top Six Most Ambitious Concept Albums and Why They Failed - Part 1

There’s only one thing that has been in and out of style more often than the concept album and that’s bell bottom jeans. The two have a lot of similarities. Like bellbottoms, the concept album took hold in the late 60’s early 70’s, featured frames that started with a narrow vision and ballooned out into something much larger and both looked ridiculous when attempted by a majority of musical artists.

Only a few concept albums actually succeed in being awesome enough to carry us through an entire story or theme, let alone one song. Typically it tends more to be a nightmarish journey into an aural wasteland of the artist’s ego.

The Artists and the Album:

Bo Hansson - Lord of the Rings

The Concept

It’s the Lord of the Rings. Come on. You know the Lord of the Rings. It’s that really long series of movies with those guys with the hairy feet and the hot chicks with the pointy ears. I think they may have written some books about it too but they let some guy who was obsessed with trees do the adaptation.

Why it Sucks

Because it’s one guy’s progressive-rock-jazz interpretation of a classic trilogy. There’s no lyrics, there’s just some wacked out titles and some serious synthesizers. Although I’m sure that the tracks “Fog on the Barrow-Downs” and “Homeward Bound & The Scouring Of The Shire” would be on any LOTR fan’s ipod playlist, to the rest of the world it all comes off as a little too pretentious and arty for public consumption. It seems to be going for $52 on Amazon though. So they could know something we don’t.

What you should have listened to instead:

Leonard Nimoy’s foray into the musical world – The Ballad of Bilbo Baggins. Although Nimoy is known more for his monologues on logic, he attempts to bust out of his type cast with this little ditty. While crooning out what should have been the #1 summer jam of 1965, he frolics with pro-hobbit nymphs on a rocky plateau. It’s fun, it’s frisky, it’s utterly absurd, and at least it’s only one song instead of a whole album.

Or Alternately – The Flight of the Concords’ take on the famous Trilogy. They’re from New Zealand so they are legally obligated to do at least one thing on the topic.

Pick myself up, dust myself off, and start all over again

As I believe I said once before I'm an aspiring writer. Everybody in my house has their thing. Duncan's movies are really funny although abstract and strange, Moses is known for his clean stand up comedy because he belives that blowjobs are inherently absurd and hilarious and therefore cheating, and I write and tend to think I'm funny. Recently I've been attempting to get an article published on the popular comedy website CRACKED, which is famous for their list based humor (The top 10 ways XXX Something Hilarious is the basic format.) I worked my ass off for about a week researching for topics to pitch to them. Nothing. Not even a thanks for given it a shot. Well, I guess thems the breaks. The first article I wrote was meant to be titled "Because they must: The Top Six Most Ambitious Concept Albums and Why They Failed" I worked really hard on this and did a lot of research so I wanted to do something with it. I'm taking a writing class at night to help increase the quality of what I produce for you, the reading public. My term paper is due next week. Thus I thought that over the next six days I would post one entry onto the list. Your comments and suggestions are more than welcome.

Quicky

If you are a large, hairy, and presumably sweaty ape of a man, you might want to re-think wearing a T-shirt that has the word "Salty" printed on it. Just Sayin'.

Sit back and enjoy a nice, refeshing roofie

To continue with our Salutations to the Working Man today, I present to you, with Mr. Biggs’ website/podcast. He'a a working man in his own right, the owner of "Wiz Bangs" a nightclub and restaurant on Phillips and Mountain, Downtown, where the fun never ends and the party's never ending. It's a fictional radio call in show utilizing real remixed radio call ins from other shows. Roger is one of my favorite characters of all time. If you enjoy the dry wit and subtle "Did you get that?" humor of "The Office" then you'll love Mr Biggs. His episode where he offers a Salute to the Working Man is a good place to start, but to really get your addiction on you'll want to listen to two or more episodes. Moses, Duncan and I love it and we're sure you will too.

Pssst - You'll understand the joke in the title if you listen to the episode. Otherwise it just looks like gibberish and I look stupid. You don't want me to look stupid do you?

Conversations with Dumpster Divers

We don’t really get garbage pick up service in our neck of the woods and if we did our bins would probably be stolen to facilitate bottle collecting. So we use the dumpster of the bar that sits in our back alley. (Shhhh. Don’t tell anyone) Last night as I took out the garbage I had the most wonderful conversation with Herb. Herb was very nice, very informative, and very much sifting through the dumpster looking for salvageables.

I’m always wary when there’s rustling in the bins. I’ve been menaced in our back alley by everything from feral cats to raccoons bigger than your torso. So I have to say I was a little wary when I approached it. Rabies shots tend not to be something that is stocked in most walk in clinics. That’s when Herb popped out to say hello…and rifle through my trash.

I wasn’t totally sure of the etiquette that I should be following. I didn’t exactly want to dump my used coffee grounds, eggshells and other such refuse in a place that was currently being occupied by another human being even if that person was mucking about in it voluntarily. So I took the plunge and asked him if it would be easier for him if I left my bags out for him to have a look through or if I just tossed them in alongside him.

He was pretty easy going about the whole thing. He wasn’t too interested in my trash because it didn’t have any bottles in it (We, as conscientious and supportive citizens leave them out in the street for collectors) but he was nice enough to answer some of my questions about his vocation.

I’ve never really understood dumpster diving or how profitable it could be. Now I know.
It turned out that Herb was a regular in this dumpster. Apparently people would buy beer or wine from the liquor store attached to the bar, drink it right away and toss it in the dumpster enroute to wherever they were going. So that dumpster was a treasure trove of refuse-y delight. On a long weekend he could make upwards of $30 just from that one bin. Impressive. In fact, I did the math, and all in all with the bottles, cans, and general bric-a-brac that people throw away unawares of their value – the man made more than I did working as a cashier full time.

Obviously I’m not about to quit my day job and get a pair of divin’ overalls, but it seems like Herb had a pretty sweet set up going on. I mean, obviously he wades through garbage and risks broken glass, needles, and whatever else people in a low rent neighbourhood toss away, but if he was willing to risk it to make more money than I do doesn’t that make him some kind of a Hero? Aren’t we, as a culture, proud of those with enough entrepreneurial spirit to forge their way in a cold, uncaring world? Why, one could even say Herb was a pioneer of sorts. A pioneer that wades through used needles. Okay maybe I’m going a tad far. But I’m really in awe that he makes more than me. Damn. But I guess his job risk is higher. I just deal with the psychos who use the needles, not the needles themselves.

Anyway, Herb understood when I opted not to shake his hand, and he was nice enough to offer to put my garbage away when he was done. So Herb, I salute you as the new generation of working man - A gentleman for the seasons and an explorer with his own rewards.

Just going out for a breath of fresh air

The last post got a little heavy so I feel obligated to lighten things up a little bit. This website, Garfield Minus Garfield puts an entertaining spin on an old favorite comic. It basically photoshops out all of the other characters but John from the strip. The results are entertaning and totally smirk-worthy. It's abstract thinking at its best and nihlistic both in approach and theme. Enjoy.

The Homeless Adoption Program

Duncan has adopted a homeless person. I know that sounds strange, but it’s somewhat like a adopting a small African child with donations through a charity fund, only with less trading your immortal soul for a glass of water. Basically this homeless gentleman lives outside the awesome video store. Duncan’s there all the time doing research for his class so he started talking to this guy, and a friendship formed. He’s told Duncan his entire life story which ended up being pretty interesting.

It seems that’s he’s am immigrant from Thailand. In the 80’s his family saved up their entire lives with every member of the family working in order to send the eldest son to Canada to go to school. Go to school he did. He went to university and started business classes. He bought a fancy car. He dined out at some of the best restaurants. His family back home paid the bills. Along with all those luxuries his family was paying for one more unexpected luxury – Heroin.

It seems that he and some of his classmates had picked up this nasty habit as a way of taking the edge off after a hard day of work. Usually beer is used for this purpose, but some people have more edge than others I guess. As his addiction grew he stopped attending classes, started using all of his money to buy the drug, sold his car, lost his dorm, and eventually lost contact with his family. They apparently think he’s dead. It’s straight out of a motivational video against heroin use.

Duncan claims that he’s finally trying to get clean. He's checked with the methadone clinic on the corner of our street and has confirmed this guy is going for treatment. With his generous heart Duncan has be persuaded to lend this guy money. Even more surprisingly this guy pays him back within one or two days. Our front door was left unlocked the other day and this guy walked to the bottom of the stairs up to our suite and called up to Duncan. I was home alone at the time and he freaked me right up. He was very polite and he went away when I told him Duncan wasn’t home.

Part of me can appreciate what Duncan is trying to do. I think that having faith in humanity no matter how low they’ve fallen is a very admirable trait. I just would rather not have that fallen humanity in my house when I’m home alone.

Does that make me a bad person?

Sorry Guys, My Bad

I’ve been getting some flack for ripping on gross foods from the US. Apparently I’ve been doing it too much and ignoring grotesque foods from other nations. That’s my bias and my bad guys. I am saying here and now that although the United States is spectacular at inventing and marketing appalling foods to the masses there are other countries that do some pretty insane stuff as well. Germany for example has an item that is a particularly twisted twist on the American Hamburger. It’s a Hamburger…in a can. My take on this is that it’s a product catered to people from the former communist East Berlin. They are so used to canned imports that nothing tastes right unless seasoned with tin and botulism. Yum. (I’m going to get flames over that.)

Check out some videos and a taste test of this appalling mess. They have lots of other taste tests there too. Or you can check out Steve Don't Eat It at The Sneeze for more horrifying food adventure.

And on that note

I have lots of friend's who are designers in one capacity or another and they tend to frequent Coroflot.com. One of them (They're always looking out for me) ran across this piece of design that would make experience to the nude beach a more asthetically pleasing venture. What a fantastic take on a tattoo, and only slightly more cancer causing. It kind of looks like Henna. It was created by the Taiwanese designer Yu-Chiao Wang, a very creative and talented woman by the looks of her portfolio. Check out her profile at the link above and find out more about this cool item. She's also got some really neat ideas about how to beautify exposed appliance chords and expanding the use of lamps.

As the Day They were Born

A friend of mine came into town yesterday and wanted to go to the beach. She’s living in Montreal right now so I can see how you’d want to get close to vibrant water after a year in all that sepia architecture. I have no qualms about the beach. It has lots of elements that many people enjoy. There’s water, exciting smells, ample unusual species, and most importantly it’s free! This means that the beach is not only a year round hot bed for huge families that can’t afford to take their brood anywhere else, (“But the water’s cold mom!” “Shut up, you’re wearing your parka, aren’t you?” “Why Can’t we go to Chuckee Cheese like a normal family!”) but also Bohemians. For many it’s the closest they will get to a bath.

There were beaches that were closer. There were beaches that have public washrooms and shower facilities available so you can hose off the smell of low tide before you get back in the car. There would have been many other beaches that would have proved ripe for a post on bohemian behaviour. But no, Caitlin had to go to that beach. She asked nicely and hadn’t been in town for a full year. So I said yes.

First off, unlike other beaches that are accessible by walking down a small sandy incline this beach is at the bottom of 150 uneven stairs carved out of the side of a hill/cliff. With every step down the steep and winding path a little voice in the back of your head tells you, “Every step you go down is one step you have to climb back up at the end of the day.” It’s enough to make you scream “Shut up brain!” while jabbing at your frontal lobe with a sharp stick. It’s very unpleasant and people look at you funny.

Secondly, I was significantly overdressed for the occasion in my tank top and shorts.

Caitlin’s reason for going to this beach was she wanted somewhere she could swim in the water. Most of the beaches in the area are for lounging on the sand only. They allow you to go in the water but were you to wade in you would quickly start to dissolve. After being land locked in the land of poutine and sculpture for so long I could understand her wanting to go in. But did it have to be in a place with as many penises as there were waves?

There, I said it. And now there’s something I need to get out of my system:
SO MANY NAKED PEOPLE!!!! Naked! Like John and Yoko on the cover of Rolling Stone naked! So naked it must be pronounced NUUUUUUUUUUUUUUDE!

Okay. Maturity levels are back in control…and we’re good.

So here’s an in-note-form record of the delightful kaleidoscope of flesh tones that our eyes feasted on:

- We sat on the beach next to a 250 lbs. behemoth smoking a joint in all his naked glory. He then went for the dip in the water and did a stunning impersonation of a frolicking beluga with a tan.

- We were smiled at by a lithe tattooed and dread locked man who asked us how our day was going. He was standing on top of a large dead log while his own very alive branch swung in the wind. I had to remind Caitlin that he, like the dead log, was probably swimming with parasites.

- I was sent into practically uncontrollable giggles upon seeing a young woman, stretched out in her naked glory on her towel with a sandwich in one hand and a book in the other. The title of the book was, and I am not making this up, “Naked Lunch.”

- Speaking of Lunch, at around lunch time Caitlin got hungry and wanted to check out some of the makeshift tents and food stands that that were set up along the beach. The tent we went to first was just finishing their set up. They sold burgers, hot dogs, chips, and pop...or would if they weren't busy arguing with each other over being drunk on the job. Also the woman serving and preparing the food was naked too. We chose to pay $7 at another stand for a terrible veggie sandwich instead and we stand by that desision.

- What struck me most about the naked people was how proud they were. Regardless of their age, body type, or size. (you know what I mean) It was pretty impressive; although it did seem like the guy who was carrying the flute was trying to compensate for something.

- Everyone seemed fairly unconcerned about getting sand in inconvenient places or getting pinched by the multitudes of wandering crabs.

- Tan lines. You wouldn’t think there would be many of them. But it seemed like every Tom, Dick, and Harry were chalk white from the neck down and well boiled lobster red from the neck up.

- There were more penises that boobs and more boobs than bush. Although in a number of the bush exposing cases the women seemed to be wearing tops and not bottoms. I’m not totally sure why that is. I’m not sure if I want to know.

Well, I’ve rambled long enough. I’m going to go take a nice warm bath in a tub full of acceptance with a hint of maturity. It’ll help wash off the low tide smell.

Us and Them - A social grouping show down

Social Groupings - They're defined by what we wear, the music we listen to, the way we act, the things we believe and the movies we watch. As much as I would like to think that people can't be catagorized into neat little packages, I have come to a sad conclusion. The more I interact with various social groupings the more I realize how often peoples lifestyle choices define them. What facinates me is the cultural trancendance of social groupings. They are not exclusive to North America, but tend to exist in every where people have money and extra time. Thus over the next few days, I intend to do a comparison of the groupings as represented by Japan and North America: Look at where the groupings come from and see how they are interpreted overseas.

Most importantly I'm going to look at who does it better.

First Up:
Everyone's Favorite Social Group - The Privlege Princess

A Thousand Times Blaugh

I know I've been talking a lot about disgusting foods, but I can't help it. They piss me off. I just recently ran across this article of someone who did a taste test of this horrifying product. They describe it better than me. On the plus side because it will probably never make it to Canada, Moses will never buy it, "Purely out of curiousity." and therefore I won't have to smack him around while yelling about beef-a-roni. I may have issues.

A Minor Moment of Existential Terror

Last night I was watching this movie called “Charlie Bartlette” which is about a kid in High School. I was getting really frustrated with it, and I believe that I actually said out loud, “God! This is so stupid. People in High School don’t act like this.” And then it hit me. I graduated from High School seven years ago. I have no idea what it’s like any more. I can’t actually relate to anything they do or listen to pr even think anymore. It was harrowing.

And the movie sucked too.

Ew

Ew Ew Ew Ew Ew! Yuck.

Good Gravy, Moses what were you thinking? Why would you buy these? These are not Food! Who's a bad Moses? You're a bad Moses! Did you learn nothing from my Beef-a-roni rant? Blaugh.

This is why the world is rapidly growing obese, because marketing jerks are trying to pass stuff like this off as a "sensible breakfast solution." Assholes.

Thank god some people are paying attention.

Dude - That's a Girl's Tattoo

With it being summer again people are looking to expose more flesh. Along with the increase of exposed flesh comes a desire to decorate it in the most exciting ways possible. Thus, the Bohemian turns to piercing and tattoos. I’ve never been one for tattoos. I could never decide on an image that I would like to have printed into my skin for the rest of my life. I dated a boy once who was all about the gag, and it was only with hours of coaxing that I was able to convince him that shaving his head, tattooing “I was stupid in my youth” directly on his scalp, and then re-growing his hair was A) Probably not as funny in practice as in principal. B) Would be searingly painful. Regardless of the physical discomfort that many of these people on my block must have suffered it seems like everyone has either contracted some kind of sophisticated skin disorder or are flagrantly taunting every metal detector in a 5 mile radius.

I may not be one to talk. I have a single piercing in my right ear and have never adorned my body with anything more than washable markers. But I believe that I’m a responsible body owner. I have to say it bothers me when people permanently insert things on their body that they have not thought through thoroughly. (Try saying that 3 times fast). Stella dealt with a creepy guy trying to pick her up by showing her his collection of tattoos by raising an eyebrow at his selection. I do believe that her exact words upon glancing at the two cherries on his shoulder blade (He had actually taken off his shirt) was to raise an eyebrow and wittily quip “Dude, that’s a girl tattoo.” It left him no option but to slink away with his more than likely miniscule tail between his legs. He’s probably the same kind of jerk that would think eyeball tattooing is cutting edge hip and badass, instead of a way of identifying the stylistically retarded in our society.

Why would you pick something impersonal out of a book of generic images to permanently emblazon on your skin. Purely for aesthetics? At what cost? I know a number of women who at the age of 16 or 18 got a tramp stamp (A delightful term for a tattoo on the lower back just above the tush) of a Chinese character that they were told meant one thing and turned out to either be nonsense or meant something very different. One girl I know got a tattoo of what she thought was the character for “Actor” and it turned out that if paired with another character it was indeed “Actor”, but left on it’s own it meant “Tree Slug”. Sexy.

I bring this up because my friend who is of Hindi descent has been looking at getting a tattoo for years. She wants it to be something meaningful to her culture and rich in spiritual nature. She has some qualms though because she is not a vegan nor does she hold strictly to the tenants of her religion and therefore thinks it's wrong to use something too powerful. This is why I respect her. While other people thoughtlessly tattoo symbols of great cultural significance on their bodies, they in fact are well on their way to peeing desecratingly on the meaning and culture. For example my friend saw a girl with a tattoo of the Om symbol eating a cheese burger. Because of its prolific use as a brand icon it seems to have lost some of its mystique, but Om is a biggy in Hinduism. The sight of an ignorant girl with a symbol she probably think looks cool tattooed on her hedonistic flesh REALLY pissed my friend off. Not only was this girl eating meat, she was eating beef. This is basically the Hindu equivilent of flipping a cross upside down, peeing on it, and then wiping your ass on a photo of Buddah. She let it stew inside her but when she got to my place she was in no mood to party.

I’m on my knees. I’m begging you. We see tattoos in movies and they look cool but they get to take them off with alcohol at the end of the day. Think about what you’re going to print on your body permanently. You may piss someone off so they become a raging party pooper ruining everyone's mojo, or you may end up looking like more of a jack ass than a bad ass, or be branded as a Tree Slug. Either way – bad times

Deep Cleansing Sigh

I'm taking the day off to go lie in the sun on the beach. The horrible polluted beach...mmmm... Happy Canada Day Ya'll. For today all you non-Canucks are honorary members to our exclusive club. Just cause I'm feelin' generous.