I looked at my blog for the first time in forever today and realized someone has tampered with it, as in put a picture of two wine glasses with a cock in between them where there used to be a something presumably moderately amusing, maybe even an early 90s pop culture reference, who knows. My mind is often in the gutter, it's true, but I wouldn't just put a picture of a penis being weird in there for no reason whatsoever. Is it supposed to be familiar to me?? It's fucking weird, guys. When I get a computer, I think I'm going to start up something new because I'm now afraid of this thing...
So far I've done two grown up things today. I returned a library book that was about 3 weeks late and instead of dropping it in the return slot and never going there again, I brought it to the front desk and announced I was paying my late fees then and there. I expected it to be something like 38 dollars but it was only $3.75. Now I feel rich.
Then I bought some SPF 30. Pretty grown up, right??
Then I went to the bank and ordered personal cheques.
So that when my sister skips town in three weeks, I can inherit the authority of paying rent and bugging Mike Chui to give me his money give me his money give me his money.
That said, Mike Chui DID buy toilet paper last week....
For the first time since September.
But hey, it's one-ply.
ONE-PLY?!?!?!
You don't BUY one-ply, Mike Chui. One-ply is for desperate times. You steal it from work, or the mall, or school or a shitty house party. A roll here or there to keep you afloat until you wake up before Pharmaprix closes. Duh.
Just so you know, I don't think this shot qualifies as extreme funny. It's worth a chuckle alone in the stall, sure, but then you wash your hands and the extreme power hand dryer will blow the memory right out of your brain before you get a chance to tell all your friends.
Anyway, I feel I've accomplished so much that I'm going to become a high school jock a-hole for the rest of the day.
Get drunk, get laid, maybe get in a fight. Get a couple BJs in the stairwell, no big whoop.
Yup. So, on the spring flirting front, yesterday I was chatting with a man in a suit at work and he told me his boss had asked him to take a client to the hockey game. When he told me he worked for Canon, I said "Oh! Like the printers!" and HE said, "Yeah, and other stuff, printers, photocopiers..." To which I replied, "Well, I LOVE photocopying...." So silly it was a hit. What fun. Spring flirting 4ever. All year round, thank you very much.
"Welcome to the 21st century", texted my brother. Cool, I guess.
Bought my first 12 pack of Dr. Pepper in eons on Monday. So far so good. As you may know, I used to knock back at least 2 litres a day, along with 6 cups of coffee.
Did you know they now make tall cans of Dr. Pepper?? It's about time, you guys. You can find it at the Esso at Saint Laurent and Sherbrooke. But at Blockbuster it's 2 cans for 2 bones, which is sweet. Pepsi too, make a run for it.
Next biggie of the week is this.
TOMORROW I GET MY CROWNS!
As you may know, 2008 was the year of breaking my jaw twice and making all that early teen orthodontia go to waste, much like Justin Bieber's virginity. What do you mean, what does that even mean?? Underneath it all, I've looked like a meth addict (and NOT the Fergalicious kind...) for at least a year and a half and I'm bored the fuck out, yo.
That said, taking out my falsies is a pretty great party trick and also a decent way to figure out whether peeps are cool or lame.
A few weeks ago, I popped into Blue Dog on a Wednesday and the bartender who's there more often than not had broken one of his front tooth caps, revealing a slightly discoloured and more lonely looking tooth. He pointed it out to me right away, I guess because he felt less than pretty. I hadn't even noticed and couldn't have cared less. But since he was clearly insecure about it, I decided to whip off my falsies with my tongue and show him where the real shit's at. Like, "HEY, WHO CARES?! COULD BE WORSE!" He was grossed out in a superlame way which confirmed my suspicion that he's kind of a douche. I had an accident or two!! Hey buddy, I just engaged in a selfless act to save you from your vanity! Duh!!
One time at karaoke night when nothing was happening, the DJ played Dave Matthews Band's Crash, why, I do not know, but this guy felt the need to announce to me, "This song has helped me get laid at LEAST four times." BARF ON YOU, BUD. You're not even THAT goodlooking. And your all-over print sweatshirts really BLOW...
GET ME OUT OF HERE!!
VEESH ME LECK!!
(Wish my luck in a vaguely Russian accent, thank you very much.)
As time goes by, I get scared of this shit. Like I'll forget how to go off on tangents and be terribly inconcise, which is apparently not a word. Since fucking when, I say.
This is a week of big deals. Yesterday, I activated the apparently "cheap-ass" cell phone my friend Nick gave me in September when he crossed over to the dark side, aka iPhoneville. I had to go to the Virgin Mobile clinic in the Eaton Centre, a very scary place.
The girl there told me that my V-card I bought at Esso wasn't working because after three months without putting money on the phone, the number goes kaput.
Honey treated me like I was from another planet. Which I am, but let's be frank, I look a lot like real people that are not aliens in disguise.
Perhaps you heard a couple of weeks ago that 40% of adults in China and India are onto us, in that they believe that aliens walk the earth disguised as humans.
The truth is out there.
See: Victoria Beckam.
Soanyway. I decided that not having a cell phone kind of harshes my game. When it comes to booty calls, it's like going to McGill and not taking Ritalin. Plus, I think I'll be a killer txt flrt. Seriously you guys, I used to be really good at MSN.
"Good start, Nicola."
Okay, current events... Guru passed away last week, which brought me back to straight kicking it with my dear friend Georgia in France in the summer of 2001. It was all about Jazzmatazz. Nectar from a Mason jar, 7 dollar dress. And Marlboro Lights. And hash. Them were the days, for sure. Now, let's take it back to the high school house party...
One of my favourite BBC Radio1 DJS, Gilles Peterson, made his show this past week a Guru tribute, which you can listen to here but only for the next 13 hours, so get on it.
I find Gilles Peterson generally throws down great foreplay music. I think if you grab a bottle of red and listen to his show from the beginning with one total fox, you'll probably score at least a steamy make-out sesh. So get flirting, team.
If it were at all possible, I would love to keep him in my back pocket to provide original soundtracks to get down to. I think this is a really great idea. A house DJ to provide a musical score for your sex life. Like a personal chef but way cooler. Rather than "I'm feeling bloated, lean fish and steamed vegetables, please" it would be like, "So tonight we're feeling taking some ecstacy and fucking on the pool table. Gilles, man, we trust you so just go with our pace, and if you could throw in a little Daft Punk, that would be great."
You dig??
More big deals to be shared shortly, thanks for coming.
How much does a zamboni weigh? Enough to break the ice?? Wilkommen Sebastian Bach??
Watch figure skating?? Heard of Peter Jensen?? Hot young Swede in the lead??
He came to mind yesterday while I was watching borderline tween gals compete in figure skating, while I was at the gym.
I was on the elliptical listeing to Big L's DA GRAVEYARD when Russia's Ksenia Makarova caught my eye, a vision of loveliness in lavender.
Her outfit was no doubt an ode to Tinky Winky, the teletubby that will turn all the kids gay. (Even yours!)
I watched several more routines and stuck to me own choons, which means I listened to DA GRAVEYARD for about 45 minutes because hey, it just fit.
So I don't know what them honeys skated to but there was one routine with MURDER in the title, another with DEATH, and another that confirmed my belief that guns are supersexy especially when handled by Korean teens.
YIPEE KI-YAY, MOTHERFUCKER!
You go, girl.
When I caught up with my sister Hilary later and actually watched figure skating with sound, my ears bled on the Russian folk number. Hilary said it was more exciting than Chopin or something to that effect, respect.
Hilary got mad at this outfit from Estonia.
"Why would you wear that unless you're skating to Prince? Why? Why??"
More importantly, how did Elena Glebova get a hold of the bathing suit Hilary wore to my ninth birthday party?? You know, when we went to the Lynx game and that guy spilled beer on Julia Hutchison's head not to mention our gummy worms?? It must be the Estonian connection.
Apparently no one gets to skate to Prince and there is no Lady Gaga of figure skating?? They don't get points for costumes but there are rules about costumes...
I don't know about you, but I think this would look fantastic on ice.
Which brings to mind the bloody denim ball gowns Alexander McQueen made in the year 2000. May he rest in peace, poor fellow.
Which brings me back to London-based, Danish-born maker of fun clothes including the sweatshirt I'm wearing right now...Peter Jensen. His website shows the latest but here is one of my favourite things he did in 2005, a fashion show on ice!
Have a nice day! And don't forget to think of some new moves for THE CROSS. We're practicing on Saturday at the rink off Bernard. In hockey skates!!
What a zoo that will be, yeah, I'm going downtown to the art gallery, it's free from 1 to 4.
No, the Szilasi exhibit is still on actually, that's what I'm going to see.
You can't see this picture really, just click on it.
Christmas, that's right, that is tomorrow, isn't it...
So here's a funny video of my friend Tasha's mom getting a toaster for Christmas after she apparently went on about how everyone gives and gets toasters so you have to make sure you act surprised if you get one.
The funniest shit so far this week is that Rage Against the Machine's "Killing in the Name" made it to #1 on the BBC singles charts, 17 years after it was all the rage. Here's a wee chat with the band from the BBC followed by a live performance!!
The British couple that decided to stick it to the Simon Cowell by way of a facebook revolution, did so unsuccessfully last year, with a campaign to bring Rick Astley's "Never Gonna Give You Up" to number one on the charts. That's hilarious!
I would like to take this couple out to lunch. Maybe even invite them over for Christmas dinner... Heck, why not make them the godparents of my firstborn child?! What the hey, they can have my firstborn!
Im looking for a wing man to partner up in the club scene to meet beautiful ladies I'm 25 years old and I'll looking to meet women with a friend because its easier
Location: montreal
it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
Compensation: no pay
Thought the J-Shore boys were just asking to be injected into this ridiculous ad.
This was the funniest shit Hilary and I laughed at yesterday.
That and one line at the end of the too long and not even that funny (unless you're maybe stoned, bro) Pineapple Express...
"I'm like that nerd at the sleepover who fell asleep at 9 o'clock!"
Oh man, that was too funny.
I don't know about you guys, but I'm bro'd out.
This week's Globe & Mail bestsellers list for Humour proves it.
Number 4 is The Bro Code by Barney Stinson...
And oh shit, I hadn't even noticed that the other "bro-lit" title is by the same guy!
Number 8 is Bro on the Go by, you guessed it, Barney Simpson!
Sounds to me like Barney Simpson is, "like, Sophie Kinsella for dudes, bro!" (And that's a bad thing.)
Next up, Bro Ties the Knot. Then, Bro and Baby. Then, Bro and Child Support!
Better Barney than that I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell a-hole. (Wait, I think he was in the top 10 for Non-Fiction, actually...)
I don't know about you guys, but hey boys, if you have any (or worse, all) of the three aforementioned titles, do yourself a favour and make sure they're out of sight when you have a new girl over. Or else... You go to the bathroom, I sip my wine (white Fuzion, no doubt...) and make my way over to your bookshelf...
By the time you're Purelling? I'm out.
And no more "that's what she said" ever.
Please and thanks.
Can't wait for 2010 lingo and all the new hot shit!
You know who that is, right? Diora Baird, boys and girls. An old favourite. If you haven't had the pleasure of Diora in her birthday suit as your background image on your computer all set for when JP's grandma comes over for brunch, you really haven't lived.
I never tire of this image, so why should you?
Onward. Enough semi-stiffness for an afternoon, n'est-ce pas?
(Stay tuned for Brooke Shields at her best...)
Last weekend my mom was visiting and on Saturday we went shopping. As always happens to me in department stores, I got tired and afraid and needed a hand to hold.
It was then that I wandered into the home section and found a friendly (but sleepy) owl.
The truth is though, that I saw this owl in passing and gave him a squeeze, found a comfortable perch in front of a darling Missoni coat that had me so hypnotized, I decided I missed the owl and he should be there with me. (I also thought he would totally match.) So I went back to the home section to get the sleepy owl (about a 5.4 minute walk roundtrip) and then back to the Missoni boutique to straight kick it for 20 minutes while Hilary and my mom looked at party dresses. Needless to say, these inanimate objects got along great.
It's called an eye, guys. I have an eye...
Watch out Rachel Zoe. There's a new raisin in town.
Off to the tanning salon, shall we?
By the by, the owl is made by a company called Velvet Moustache that makes a lot of really cute shit.
If you're into being green (it is all the rage...) and don't mind spending 6o bones on a little pillow, this is the place for you.
14o characters or less, right? You do the counting because I don't really give a shit.
"Nothing like a jazz-infused Sunday afternoon at home, penning an as of yet untitled print publication you'll love to hate, inspired by the end of the world and the first season of Friends. Pen pals, keep your eyes on your mailboxes."
M.A.C. "Spice" lipliner was all the rage and so are you.
Let's not talk about the weather, for Michael Snow has a new exhibit at Toronto's Power Plant.
Don't forget to go unlock your bike wherever you left because now is prime time for bike thieves with crazystrong hedgeclippers to come out and play. Run along now, take a break from the hot cocoa or you'll be sorry.
If you only knew how many slime moments I've watched in the past 20 minutes...
I loved that show. I think that Lady Gag-Me's next costume should be "Oh shit! I just got slimed on You Can't Do That On Television!" The blood of Christ is so not a fresh concept...
Yup. The burger incidents were another highlight, for sure.
Next!
Next!
If you noticed our dear old friend Alanis Morrisette back there, that's my hair half the time, yup.
Just looked up Juergen Teller's book of Marc Jacobs Advertising (1998-2009) on Amazon and came across something...hilarious??
It's listed as costing $999.99!!! Is this some kind of sick joke?! Yeah, it's a hardcover but NO! UNACCEPTABLE!
Here's Harmony Korine eating a burger.
For the life of me (okay, I haven't tried that hard) I can't find what I really wanted to show you, which was the ad where he's praying in his bedroom with all this fun stuff kicking around and covering the walls.
Maybe I'll take a picture of it if I can make my camera work...
Anyway, if you know the ad and you've hung out in my bedroom, you know why they relate.
It all comes back to the WUNDERKAMMER!
This is something I learned about in UNIVERSITY! It means "CABINET OF WONDERS" or "CABINET OF CURIOSITIES"!!
I was so happy when I heard about it as the idea perfectly embodies my style of decor. Also, I like the sound of German, which is why I speak in a German accent relatively often.
I need to get my camera working so I can explain??
I has too much homework to do anything but have you listen to this song I love.
As well as this song I love. I fell in love with this band and the lead singer (god damn you half-Japanese girls) this past spring.
This is from their latest album, Machine Dreams which didn't come out until late August so in April I was all listen hard at the 27:41 mark 'n shit to hear this song I love, referring to Gilles Peterson's BBC Radio 1 show that week. (As far as I'm concerned, The Gilles Peterson show is never not worth a listen.) Perhaps they are on Team Lars Ulrich, as this is taken from the same show; you can hear Gilles Peterson at the beginning. As aforementioned, Gilles Peterson can invite me over at 2 in the morning to drink red wine and listen to records anytime. It might be something like my non-sexual entanglement with Nicolas Cage. I like the sound of his voice and would like him to talk me to sleep.
Now I don't know about you guys, but I love the idea of Pam Anderson and Vivienne Westwood hanging out.
If I'm supposed to know who the dude in these ads is, sorry, I have no idea. Vince Gallo's way less sexy little brother??
Have you ever heard of The Dinner Party by Judy Chicago?? I've started a list in my head of bomb honeys for a modern day version of a really fun time.
I want a dinner party with Pam Anderson, Peaches, Vivienne Westwood, Amanda Blank, Alanis Morissette, Betsey Johnson, Miranda July...that's it for now. (I guess Shannen Doherty can come too.)
Meanwhile, back in the T-Dizz, Katie and I are going to an art exhibit this afternoon at Mercer Union Centre for Contemporary Art called WE INTERRUPT THIS PROGRAM: Print Ads and TV Spot by Artists.
Have you ever found yourself in bed with a ginger named Gus, whose last name you don't know and who in the daylight, you're pretty sure you're allergic to??
I'm hanging in my girl Katie's bed in reasonably cute underwears and all he can do is snore.
He's her neighbour's cat and apparently he's welcome. I think he's
a bit too at home but it's not really my place to say so. Plus, I kind of like his purring.
I'm taking a mini-break in Toronto right now, doing crazy things like wearing dresses and make-up and straightening my hair.
Last night I went to see Peaches at the Phoenix Amphitheatre with my long-losty Allison. We'd both lost our Peaches v-card in 2006 (she in Rome, I in Montreal) and had been waiting for this moment ever since. I had initially planned this voyage to see the show with Katie, but Katie ended up having to work, so I had to make do with Allison. Quelle delight...
Amanda Blank opened and I'd heard some of her new shit but mostly knew her through my B-MORE GUTTER MUSIC era, back when I used to stay up late and wear pink wigs. Her set was awesome, Allison and I were superstoked on it. Such a genuine performer, interactive with the audience and clearly having tons of fun and smiling for real and also, her love and excitement for Peaches was really cool/cute/fresh.
Peaches did not disappoint. She makes Lady Gag-me look like a Care Bear. Hooray for Peaches! There was a ridiculous amount of hair on the stage, some juicy sexy bodies shaking it, a halfway decent shower scene, welcomed laser beams, and a flashy-flashy clit light that was pretty hilarious. We forgave her for the lack of Lovertits in that she rocked it so hard that she threw up onstage. If this was planned, Jesus H. Christ, and if it wasn't, HOLY FUCKING AWESOME! It's funny how for some peeps, yarking onstage and spitting it on your audience would be a totally taboo career turmoil welcomer of epic proportions. For this honey, baby it ain't shit.
WOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!
There was no gigantornormous prop cock at this show which is okay, because last time I saw that, I had a scary dream that all the tween boys from 3 Ninjas were jerking eachother off and they had big man penises eventhough they were like, 9, 11, and 13. You can't make that shit up. JESUS.
I think that my friend Tasha Taylor aka T-Cup should open for them some day because she's awesome. Peep her colourful world at www.myspace.com/tcupyo.
This is T-Cup's Condom Song video and I like it.
We went to the afterparty at a place called The Social that I kept pretentiously calling Le Sociale by accident (there's a Le Sociale in Montreal). Before that I bought some sour jujubes, which I had been telling Katie earlier are seriously hard to come by. I should have stocked up, I'm such a fucking moron. So we had fun shaking it to the sounds of the once Montreal-based DJ Huggs, who now calls Los Angeles...Smell-ay?? Just joking. Juicy Couture smells great!
Tonight I'm going to see Tennessee Williams' Summer and Smoke with my friend Monica. So far, my mini-break is most excellent.
Last night I went to see Quench Your Thirst For Spots, the 56th edition of the Cannes Lions International Advertising Film Festival. It's playing at Cinema du Parc until the 28th so you should definitely go.
One of my favourites ties in with something very cool happening tonight in Montreal, the Worldwide Short Film Festival, which is free at 7pm at Cinema du Parc. I have to work tonight so I can't go but you should.
I know how you feel, brother.
Here we go...
This is funny and heartwarming. I love it.
I liked this ad for the most beautiful version of Donna Summer's I Feel Love ever. It was also really pretty to watch. It was not meant to be funny at all and it wasn't until the very end that it was. You'll see... Or maybe you won't because no one else in the packed theatre laughed except me.
What were they thinking with that VOICE?! Gag me with a spoon, my GAWD. It's the sort of voice that says things like "The Hills. Tuesdays at 8 on MTV." It belongs to the kind of girl whose boyfriend drives a white SUV with diamond studs in his ears. He always honks the horn when he comes to pick her up and he's never opened a door for her in his life. Did I mention he wears sunglasses at night?
That said, I'm sure it smells delicious. And it was directed by Chris Cunningham, who did Aphex Twin's Windowlicker video, which is one of the most off the wall coolest videos ever plus the song totally rules.
This one is funny for sure, especially because it reminded me of myself. Three out of four times I try to answer our phone, I have this problem. I'm not joking. I'm not an idiot. But this really happens to me.
This one was a major crowdpleaser.
I came across a followup ad from Heineken that's a bit funny too, and one from Bavaria that is also a bit funny. But you can go find them yourself.
I normally get grossed out with Pizza Pops ads but I liked this one.
This is not laugh out loud funny but great work, you guys.
A 1 second ad can really pack a punch.
For the backstory, go to 1secondad.com and watch the WAREHOUSE video.
Another very cool (I think it's free) thing happening in Montreal tonight that I am really sorry to miss is a talk with photographer Gabor Szilasi put on by the Montreal Camera Club. I hadn't heard of him until recently, when my mom sent me this picture in the mail that she got at his exhibit, The Eloquence of the Everyday, showing at the Canadian Museum of Contemporary Photography in Ottawa until January. You have to click on it to see the whole thing.
It now hangs behind my bed very close to my head, which is where I like to have dreamy pictures that might inspire cool dreams. I like to listen to this song and pretend I am the girl on the backseat. You should try it, I always have a great time.
Don't you hate when Soul for Real jams are all "embedding disabled by request" and shit?? UGH. It's always the most has-been peeps that are on Team Lars Ulrich.
It's around this time that you might ask yourself, "WHERE ARE THEY NOW?" and soon find out via wikipedia that...
"On February 25, 2009, group member Brian Dalyrimple was arrested in Charlotte, North Carolina on charges of identity theft. Prior to his arrest, Dalyrimple allegedly took his 10-month-old son from his grandmother's home and fled to a friend's home in Charlotte. Police were given a tip which led to his arrest. Dalyrimple, along with his son's mother, are accused of orchestrating financial thefts from over 200 victims in the Duluth, Georgia area and other jurisdictions."
If you don't know, now you know.
On an even darker note, I saw Antichrist on Friday and haven't slept since.
Seriously?? Well bees and gees, there's been so much talk surrounding it that I was expecting the worst of the worst of the worst, and it wasn't as bad as I expected. My friend Karen though, walked out in revulsion and never came back. When Liane and I later met her with her coat we were informed that we will never get to pick a movie ever again ever.
The preview is not a good primer by any means. It doesn't show the wacky shit, so watch out. If you don't care to see, say, genital mutilation and the battery of helpless animals in the midst of a deep dark forest, then this ain't for you, kid. It's not something I can ruin by explaining because it's not something I can explain. (P.S. If you haven't seen The Sixth Sense, I'm glad to tell you that Bruce Willis is actually a ghost. He's dead but he doesn't know it. Now you know!)
As I was saying, such is the whateverthefuck of Lars von Trier. I had seen one of this movies before, The Idiots, wherein (if memory serves correctly) a bunch of Danish peeps pretend to be mentally retarded and have lots of sex with eachother and make scenes in public places and are totally totally bonkers. It was sort of okay.
If you want to see Willem Dafoe's manhood in action, this must be the place. I wonder how much you get paid to fuck in an art film. Probably less than the Green Goblin's stunt double's stunt double. If you want to beat up Damien Hirst on a regular basis, you'll probably want to beat up Lars von Trier.
The funniest part of the movie was when I sneezed and Karen said "gazunteit". It was also a bit funny when I found myself thinking about how the last time I cried real tears from an opening sequence, was the The Lion King on Broadway (but actually in Toronto in the year 2000.) This video is not going to help you understand how incredible the beginning of The Lion King is but here you go.
Antichrist opens with a black and white slow motion shower to bathroom counter sex scene set to a Handel aria, and just as Charlotte Gainsbourg hits a high note, their baby, who we've watched make his way out of his crib and across the room and onto a chair and onto a dresser as they're making their way to climax...he tumbles out the window with his little teddy into a snowy night and it's ABSOLUTELY HEARTWRENCHING. And sorry to say it, it's beautiful. And I love to hate on how a dead shark hanging out in formaldehyde has come to be worth millions as much as the next guy. That said, I think Damien Hirst's unicorn is kind of funny, actually.
