Is That Why You Want To Be There?

Several years ago, I was waiting for the train in Pape station. There was only one other person on the platform with me.
He was singing Suzanne.
He had a beautiful voice.

Body Massage. Body Massage. Body Massage?

Dear Hot Guy,
I think you’re hot.
I see you at my subway stop often.
I think you’re hot.
You are probably out of my league, though, and that makes me feel sad and inferior.
Oh sure, I’m pretty damn cute, but I don’t think I’m cute enough for the likes of you.
Unless you like weirdos.
I’m good at the weird, you might even say I have a knack for it.
I think you’re hot.
XOXO Mavis

Yes, Point and Laugh at the Freak. Point and Laugh

I get a lot of grief for the way I eat food. I like my food to come in small, bite size pieces. I sometimes use a knife and fork for sandwiches, and even pizza, on occasion.
Right now, I am eating two donut halves (I can’t eat two whole donuts in one sitting), and they are each cut up into quarters.
Eight donut triangles, four are raised maple and four are chocolate glaze.
I will now attempt to answer two relevant questions:
1)Why do I like to eat small bits of food?
I likely have OCD, because it really bothers me if I can’t eat my food the way I want it. If I have to take big gulping bites, or I don’t have a steak knife for things that require steak knives, such as philly sandwiches or pizza, I get uncomfortable. One time, at work, the cook made me a pasta dish and used cream sauce instead of tomato, and I nearly cried.
When I was a kid, and saw the movie Mermaids, I was jealous of Winona Ryder’s character, who was bitching about how her mom only prepared meals in the form of hors d’oeuvres. I thought to myself, Winona, you ungrateful cow.
2)Why can’t I eat two donuts at once?
I was the unfortunate victim of a donut overdose in high school. My driver’s education teacher would take us out driving every Wednesday, and we would always take a break in a donut shop. For some reason, these donut shops only sold donuts and cookies and other sweet food items. Being a teenager, I was always hungry, and I’ve never been one to crave sweet foods for meals.
A frigging bagel with cream cheese!
Some goddam soup and crackers!
BL-fucking-T.
Stupid Bowmanville-and-surrounding-areas-donut-shops-circa-mid-nineties.

Soothing My Savage Breast

When I was a teenager, I read some piece of crap book called The Late Great Me. It was about a teenager’s downward spiral into alcoholism and I loved it. I hated the end of it because she had to quit drinking and lost all her friends, including her first love, David, a fellow alcoholic. An enabler. One thing that I remembered today, while suffering from the effects of a moderate shameover, was her description of hangover induced panic attacks.
The feeling of impending DOOOOOOOOM!
Mine struck at precisely 11:23 am today.
It was an instant switch from regular to kickass, and I’m still feeling it now. I’m inconsolable, everything I did last night was awful. I’m a horrible person.
Fuck it.
I’m going to attempt to turn back the clocks to the last good thought I had yesterday before I imposed my horrendous self upon the innocent public.
My last thought was about how little things have changed since I was a teenager. I used to hang out almost exclusively with Durham region art fags and still do. I used to go to great local shows and parties and still do. I used to write a zine, now it’s a blog, hooray for technology. I used to make my own clothes, now I get paid to make them for other people. I used to have a lot of pen pals, some were friends and some were strangers, and now I have email pals, both friends and strangers.
These are the things I like in my life and I’m happy to have them.

Don’t You Love Love?

I love pop culture. I love creative people. I love gifts of stolen salad dressing. I love shameless hangovers. I love Caligula. I love Reggie Mantle. I love ear wax. I love Conor Oberst’s weiner. I’ve said too much.

Looking at Me Looking at You

I’ve tried the demo for My Heritage before and it used to be good. It can’t find any matches for most of my pictures now, and the results aren’t as funny. I used to get Rick James and Michael Jackson, both pre and post surgeries for the latter. You also have to sign up for a free account with them to try the demo.
Here’s Shane MacGowan’s results:

Wanna Frock, We Hardly Knew Ye

Wanna Frock has breathed its final breath. After a quick illness, Wanna Frock succumbed to heartbreaking neglect and isolation on November 30, 2006. I have a huge pile of clothing from spring and summer 2005 sitting upstairs in my bedroom that cannot be sold anywhere. I had a friend come over and pick through, and I have also picked out clothing for myself, but there is still a ton of unwanted goods left over. Perhaps I’ll sew everything together to make a hot air balloon with which I will travel to heaven to visit my beloved dead friend. Or maybe Wanna Frock resides in hell. No matter, I could always tie my leftovers into a long rope and propel myself downwards to visit her there. I would like a vacation somewhere warm this season.