http://www.threadless.com/ Fri, 01 Jun 2012 16:33:21 -0500 Mon, 30 Mar 2009 22:07:52 -0500
http://www.canmag.com/images/front/movies2009/monstersaliens11.jpg

Hmmm, maybe Threadless and the designer of this shirt should look into a possible lawsuit...]]> Wed, 03 Jan 2007 12:06:28 -0600
But first, let me ask you all this: why is it that we, as humans, feel obligated to set these same unrealistic goals, year after year, in some disingenuous effort to better ourselves?

I suppose we feel compelled to maximize our potential as human beings and further extend our contributions to society. We want to be all that we can be, become the best possible versions of ourselves, and personify a million other tired motivational poster mantras.

On a side note, why do those posters always feature the same thrill-seeking activities that I will never experience and therefore, will never relate to? I could care less about reaching the top of the Andes, or whitewater rafting on the Colorado River.

I would much rather look at a poster that shows a dude brewing a pot of Folger's best whenever I'm looking for a motivational kick in the ass. That way, I know I'm doing something right for once in my life. I'm all about setting my goals within arm's reach.

Which brings us to my new year's resolutions for 2007. You may scoff at them for being trivial and borderline retarded (okay, full-on retarded), but we'll see who is laughing at the end of the year when I have successfully checked off all five resolutions on my list. Meanwhile, your over-achieving ass is still desperately trying to quit smoking/crack cocaine/non fat-free yogurt/excessive masturbation.

1) I will keep it real. This one may surprise you because I'm widely regarded as being the trillest cat on the block. But I'm embarrassed to say, sometimes I don't always keep it real, like those rare moments where I lie about my zodiac sign (because Geminis have all the fun) or that I really did see Grey's Anatomy last night (because it's, like, the best show ev-errr!).

2) I will eat more pancakes. I probably only have a measily three or four pancakes a year, and really, is that enough pancakes for one man? Fuck no, that's not even enough pancakes for one person in a single month. I used to think pancakes were an unnecessary luxury, but now I know I was living a lie. So look out Aunt Jemima, I'm about to put your country-ass to work, girl.

3) I will watch more Grey's Anatomy (refer to #1).

4) I will hate on more unsupecting douchebags. Our world is polluted with unsupecting douchebags. They're at the clubs/bars, shows, the mall -- everywhere. And while I have made a noble effort on hating on these individuals in the past, it's just not enough. This year, I will ensure there will be enough hate directed at douchebags to coin a new prejudicial term. (That said, "doucheism" sounds like the new celebrity "it" religion. I can already see Madonna, Britney and Brad proclaiming their sudden rebirth as "doucheists".)

5) I will rock the fuck out even more. Attending more than 70 shows this year, I rocked out at more than half of them. However, I deluded myself into believing that not even the most zealous of concert-goers can rock out at a Sigur Ros or an Iron & Wine show. Man, was I ever wrong. This year, whether I am watching Explosions In The Sky or the Mormon Tabernacle Choir -- rest assured, I will rock the fuck out.]]> Tue, 07 Nov 2006 14:34:13 -0600
The show was held at The Winter Gardens Theatre, which is located on the top level of The Elgin Theatre building. Since the building's sign read 'The Elgin & Winter Gardens Theatre', we mistook this to mean that the two theatres were one and the same, and proceeded to enter The Elgin theatre on the main floor.

Somehow, the two people who inspected our tickets failed to notice that we were walking into the wrong show and venue, and ushered us to the third row of the orchestra pit where our seats were located.

Onstage were three huge banners displaying Meat Loaf's Bat Out Of Hell I, II and III album covers, in addition to a full drum kit, guitars, keyboards and microphone stands. Demetri Martin often plays multiple instruments to accompany his joke telling, so I wasn't surprised to see the instruments onstage. The Meat Loaf banners, on the other hand, kind of threw me off.

At first, I was thinking that it might just part of some grandious opening gimmick. Then I looked around the audience and soon realized that we were among the youngest Demetri fans there. In fact, everyone at the show seemed to be well above their '40s.

Finally, Lianna remarked to the guy next to us, "There sure are a lot of Meat Loaf fans here," trying her best to conceal our obvious confusion.

"You think?" he replied sarcastically, chuckling to himself. We then realized we had made a grave mistake. Lianna then asked, "Uhhhh, is this a Meat Loaf concert?"

"Who were you expecting?" the guy replies, now looking equally as confused as us.

"Uhhh, I think we're in the wrong theatre," I quickly offered. We got up and immediately bolted for the door.

When we finally figured out how to get to the Winter Gardens theatre, the show was nearing its final half hour. Apparently, those Ticketmaster fuckers had accidentally printed the tickets for 8 p.m. instead of its intended 7 p.m. start time.

Despite the complications, the show exceeded my expectations and made me laugh even harder than the new Borat film, which we had seen just two hours prior.

That said, this experience will long be remembered as the one time I almost saw Meat fucking Loaf by accident when all I was looking for was a couple of laughs.

Check out Demetri Martin on YouTube if you ever get the chance. He's the thinking man's comic, which may sound pretentious or dull to some of you, but I think he's genius.]]> Mon, 06 Nov 2006 10:29:06 -0600
From the tattered Cosby sweaters we find wrapped around our front gate to a mailbox full of flyers addressed to 'Robocop' (the tenant before us was a production studio that filmed the old Robocop TV series), the word "random" doesn't even do these delightful wonders justice.

Despite these bizarre findings, nothing could prepare me for what I discovered lying by our door this morning: a half full jar of dill fucking pickles.

Undoubtably, I was more than a little confused. While such an incident would leave most people asking themselves the 'who, what, when, where and why', here are my main concerns:

-When did a jarful of pickles become a popular recreational snack?
-If said item was truly delicious and snack-worthy, why would the owner merely eat a few of them, then abandon them by the doorway of a stranger's home?
-Am I to believe that this is, in fact, a gift from some kind of revolutionary snack crusader?
-And finally, would it be impolite to reject this supposed gift and not try at least one of these allegedly delicious pickles?

Well before I set off your gag reflex, I assure you that I did not help myself to a pickle. Instead, I merely moved them to the side of the door where they shall remain as a vivid reminder to my co-workers and I about this alarming new emergence of snack discrimination.

I urge you all to never reject a delicious pickle if one is ever offered your way. ]]> Mon, 23 Oct 2006 11:57:26 -0500
But rest assured, it's not meant to be taken literally, unless you're into that sort of thing... ladies? It just implies that more often than not, I am one step away from losing a Y chromosome and gaining another X.

Here are the facts:
-I prefer cuddling and foreplay over intercourse
-when I really dig a girl, I will set no limitations to my subsequent romantic pursuits
-a girl's personality always takes precedence over her looks

The latter was witnessed this past Friday night through one serendipitous encounter with a girl, an experience I shared with Lisa this morning.

Justin says:
lisa, i CANNOT read women well
lisa says:
share
Justin says:
okay, so for the second time in the past month, i met a girl through a friend who i'll have a lot in common with and we'll completely hit it off
lisa says:
okay
Justin says:
then i'll find out she has a bf
lisa says:
DOH!
lisa says:
i don't think you read people wrong. you aren't conceited or anything
lisa says:
i think people can have a chemistry but it's timing sometimes
Justin says:
like i wasn't even physically attracted to her at first
Justin says:
but after talking to her for 10 min, and discovering we had so much in common, I was completely.
Justin says:
not just similar music/film/literature tastes, but like things we both do
Justin says:
like we both pretend we're in music videos while walking in the city and listening to our ipods
lisa says:
aww..you are so vag
Justin says:
ahhahaha
Justin says:
maybe i should dress up as a giant vagina for halloween]]> Fri, 20 Oct 2006 12:06:02 -0500
Last night, some friends and I went to a fashion show that was held in the Fermenting Cellar building of the Distillery district (because fermenting and high fashion go together like chocolate chip pancakes and breakfast sausages).

Presented as part of Toronto Alternative Fashion Week, the show featured the works of eight local independent designers.

But instead of witnessing a catwalk of elegant, graceful models dressed in sophisticated couture designs, the low-rent circus of a show more closely resembled that one episode of Family Matters where Laura (who turned to porn once the series was cancelled, as I recently learned from VH1's Childhood Sitcom Stars: Where Are They Now?) joins Urkell's alter-ago, Stefan (who taught me that switching to contact lenses and having good posture will get you some Winslow ass), in Paris to model in a fashion show.

The models were painfully amateur, many of them doing their best 'Blue Steel' impressions, and completely unironically at that. The clothes were, for the most part, scattered and uninspired. (For God's sakes, one male model was dressed in a fucking Yogi Bear-like fur vest with matching pants, while another resembled an Elizabethan era version of the Tin Man from The Wizard of Oz.)

If Project Runway's Heidi Klum were there last night, she would have declared to the eight designers in her deadpan Elfish staccato, "You are ALL out."

After the show, I raced to the restroom to relieve my tortured bladder (I had to hold it in for the entire hour-duration of the show, because the restroom access was blocked off by the catwalk) where a very chatty, very Mullet-y, Joe Dirt-like character decided to take the urinal beside me.

Joe Dirt: That was a wicked show.
Me: Uh, yeah.
Joe Dirt: Were you at the show?
Me: Yes, yes I was.
Joe Dirt: Wicked. Yeah, what was the name of it?
Me: Magpie.
Joe Dirt: Magpie! That's It! Magpie... what is that, some kind of bird?
Me: Uh, yeah.
Joe Dirt: Maaaagpie. (Zips up and promptly exits bathroom without washing his hands.)

This brief exchange can only have one logical explanation: I was being filmed for an episode of Spike TV's "Oblivious", a hidden game show where host/hack comedian Regan Burns asks unsuspecting strangers random trivia questions and the person wins $20 for each question he or she answers correctly.

This theory seems mildly plausible, especially since Burns typically dons some ridiculous, over-the-top guise (Joe Dirt acted like some sort of bizarre caricacture of the overtly heterosexual male.. well, as much of an act a guy can pull off when he's engaging in an open discussion about fashion at the urinals) and asks a series of random, peculiar questions.

But if that were the case, I would have walked out of that restroom with $60 in my pocket instead of a rejuvenated bladder and a deeply perplexed look.]]>