Freedom?

She has disturbed the Canadian psyche so deeply that she'll become an icon of the diabolical woman remembered long after her partner in crime, Paul Bernardo, has vanished from memory. -- Dr. Stephen Hucker (Psychiatrist)

People are nuts.
Not just people like Karla Homolka, but people in general.
People who will fight, yell - even KILL to avenge the lost lives of the school girls that this woman played a part in taking.
"She needs to suffer."
"She needs to feel what fear is."
"She needs to feel pain."
"She needs to die."
Wrong.
SO unbelievably WRONG.
No one needs to suffer - and not that this is any kind of defense of the horrific, unthinkable things her and her husband did to those young girls - two wrongs will NEVER make a right.
I don't doubt that someone will knock off Karla.
The fact that the Quebec judge denied her request to ban media from exposing where she lives and where she is (and I'm sure they'll constantly be pointing her out like she's some kind of fucking celebrity "Bennifer") - is pretty much a death sentence.
Why? Because people are NUTS.
Christians blow the heads off abortion doctors everyday because their God says "Thou Shalt Not Kill."
"They" won't allow doctor assisted suicide for people who are suffering because "it's murder" - but at the same time "They" are pro-death penalty.
Aren't they defeating the purpose here?
We're living in a fucking WORLD full of legalized murder, lethal injections, electric chairs, chemical castrations and electro-shock labotomies for criminally insane "killers".
I'm drifting now.
The fact that those girls died - IS Karla's fault, along with her husband.
The fact that she is getting out this Monday - is not.
The courts - OUR COURTS - decided that.
They are to blame for her freedom - she played no part in that assault.
If we have a problem with the punishment they gave her for her crimes - we should be seeking out the lawyers who withheld evidence at the time of the trial - and insisting he not only be disbarred - but he be sent to prison - to make up for some of the time that Karla got OUT of serving by making such a sweet deal to get out after twelve years while her lawyer sat on the video tape evidence.
That's our problem here.
The laywer didn't even GET disbarred.
While she did demean the lives of the girls she helped torture and slaughter - an almost bigger injustice was the fact that she was given a "minimal" sentence.
She was allowed to "strike a deal" in exchange for her husbands head based on what was essentially a lie about her involvment in the murders by both her and her laywer, although I don't doubt there was abuse involved either.
But the question is - What demeans these young women more?
The fact that their lives were stolen from them?
Or the fact that their killer was allowed to strike a deal and get out early - and it was okayed by our legal system??
This is beyond insult to injury - this is insult to TORTURE - literal human bondage, mutilation and strangulation.
But why are we so enraged AT HER that she is getting out?
If I were a psychopath and killed people, I wouldn't even WANT to be caught.
And if I was - I would want the most minimal sentence possible.
ANd if the courts were fucking DUMB enough to give it to me - and barter with me over the graves of my victims - more power to me.
It still doesn't make what she did right.
But what will? Killing her?
So someone else can go to jail and strike more deals with a room full of LIARS in Armani suits?
How will this fix anything? How will her suffering fix anything?
Are we that fucking sadistic that we will feel better if we know she was raped, and then killed with black eyes and blood coming out of her mouth?
Does she deserve to walk the earth and be alive?
Probably not.
Who was she to decide when anyone dies?
But who is anyone?
No one is high or mighty by saying Karla needs to be MURDERED and TORTURED to "teach her a lesson". We're just proving we are capable of at least THINKING about harnessing some of the same murderous, insane rage that Karla did - and snuff someone out to get a little bit of lip smacking satisfaction out of it.
And if that is the consensus - and it seems to be - then it's more than just Karla who needs to learn something out of all of this.
We keep killing each other - because we keep killing each other.
Murder is everywhere, regardless of how bright the sun is shining, how good the beer tastes or how nice the dead cow in the barbeque smells.
Because we feel it's okay to "strike deals" and say "Okay..you only have to serve THIS much time becaus what YOU DID wasn't AS bad."
If that isn't justifying what she did as okay - I don't know what is.
When those tapes turned up - and her and her lawyer's lies were exposed - any sweet deal that was made should have been flushed down the toilet along with all her remaining credibility - and her stupid fucking rich lawyer.
The media NEEDS to leave her alone and focus on the real problem.
But we wouldn't want that , would we?
Doesn't make for good television.
"Bring it on," we chant.
Nancy Grace comes on at 9 p.m. and admit it:
We're all in the mood for a good old fashioned Witch Hunt.

"Off With The Bitch's Head."

Listening Parties and Stoner Albums

I watched that movie Home at the End of the World tonight w/ Collin Farrel (sp?) and Robin Wright-Penn and the "unknown to me actor who played the gay guy".
The movie started out intriguing and original as hell - but the bottom kinda fell out for me during the latter part of the film.
It just got a little too "Threesome-meets-oh-so-indie". I don't know. It was just kinda predictable, which disappointed me.
However - what I loved about the movie - was the fact that there was constant dialogue that went like this:
Girl - "Have you heard of Alexi Murdoch?"
Boy - "No, never..."
Girl - (getting up, excited) "Oh My GOD! You have to hear him!"
(she puts on the record, both sit and smoke a joint - and listen to the music. TOTALLY INTO IT.)

I fucking love that.
There aren't enough scenes like this in movies - REAL scenes - where people do little, stupid REAL things that we all do. Quirks.
One of LIfe Partner and I's (how's that for linguistics!?!?!) favorite things in the WORLD to do is have "listening parties".
It sounds geeky - and he may beat me senseless for confessing this in my blog - yes, he hits me, but it's okay. I'll just tell people I ran into a door, like Luka.
Just kidding. He doesn't beat me!
But yeah - we have "listening parties".
We love going out - buying - or downloading - some new CD we have been DYING to hear - and then smoke a joint - and listen to it to get the most out of it.
We don't talk much. We just kinda sit in silence (save for the CD playing) and comment once in a while about the production, or a cool lyric or references to trivia we know about the artist..etc.
It is absolutely my FAVORITE thing to do.
After that we put the same CD on again - but this time talk freely over it - and see if our first impression changes at all when the music is listened to in a background context.
HAHAHA
I just realized how absurd this sounds..but it's totally true.
I think listening parties are a GREAT thing - and they are not done enough.
I mean, they are not really a social thing at all.
They are all about experiencing music - and trying to find something in it that resonates inside you, I guess - if that doesn't sound too pretentious - but it's really not supposed to.
I think it's important to be stoned too, during a listening party.
Just sit back and lose yourself in music...like - literally EXPLORE it with your mind.
Again - it sounds ridiculous...but it seriously brings me the MOST joy out of anything in my life.
Okay - MAYBE that's an exageration...but not really.
I would take my couch, a joint and a GREAT CD I never listened to ANY NIGHT OF THE WEEK over some smokey bar with people I don't know, expensive drinks and music I hear everytime I turn on the radio.
And the very idea of exploring music with your mind, quietly makes it a not-so social event, so it's important no one talks.
But - I think a listening party amongst HARDCORE music lovers - would be STELLAR.
Have a few drinks...or smoke a joint..sit back..and relax.
Dim the lights, get comfy.
That's heaven to me.
A few albums we've been having Listening Parties to lately are:
Garbage - Bleed Like Me (but - we actually called this one short because the album sucked so bad - very un-listener party of us)
Fiona Apple - Extraordinary Machine
Laurie Anderson - Big Science
Mary Timony - Ex Hex
Oliva Tremor Control - Dusk at Cubist Castle
Dressy Bessy - Electrified
Sinead O'Connor - Collaborations

while i'm into the list-making, I might as well go ahead and share my top fifteen favorite albums to get baked to....why the hell not, right?

15. Neil Young - Harvest
14. Bjork - Debut
13. Prince - Sign O The Times
12. Sly and the Family Stone - Greatest Hits
11. Polyphonic Spree - Together We're Heavy
10. Apples in Stereo - Her Wallpaper Reverie
09. Laurie Anderson - Big Science
08. B-52's - Mesopotamia
07. Mazzy Star - So Tonight That I Might See
06. Massive Attack - Mezzanine
05. Grandaddy - The Sophtware Slump
04. Velvet Underground - Loaded
03. Patti Smith - Land Compilation: Disc II
02. Radiohead - OK Computer
01. Pink Floyd - Dark Side of the Moon

(honourable mention goes to Secret Machines - No Here is Nowhere, PJ Harvey - Uh Huh Her, Helium - The Magic City and Lali Puna - Faking the Books.)

If anyone knows any albums THEY enjoy getting stoned to - TELL ME! And if there are any albums in my list up there that you don't know - download it (or buy it!) and smoke a big fattie and have yourself your very own listening party.
I can lose myself in all those albums up there.
They've taken me to saturn and back again, I swear.
I've been all around the world and everywhere in between when I listen to these albums.
I'm convinced they are too good to have been made by mortals.
They are actually made by alien residents of planet Zerbert, who disguise themselves as musicians.
TOTAL JOKE.
I may smoke lots of pot - but I sure as fuck don't smoke that much.
But - music is great..I'm dying to know what everyone else likes getting all "hippy with it" to.

hearts and farts,

dan

Summer Solstice and the Legend of Fireflies

When I was three and four years old, I used to cross the street to my neighbor's house (sometimes wearing only my underwear and a "cape" fashioned from a beach towel) and sit on his front porch and chat about life.
His name was Johnny Horniyak (I don't joke!) and he was at the time, the coolest person I knew. I remember one day in particular, I was sitting on his front porch - me drinking orange pop - him sipping whiskey - and his wife Helen came out and asked us what we were doing, and whether or not it might be time for me to go home, since the sky was turning all pink and orange.
Johnny said: "Danny and I are staying up and getting drunk for the longest day of the year, right Danny?"
Me, being a mere youngling, had no clue what "drunk" meant - but if it meant sitting on the porch for a longer amount of time - I was in.
And I was curious to know what he meant when he said "longest day of the year".
He told me that it was the first day of summer, and the sun is out the longest on this day.
He said it's the shortest night of the year, the sun came up the earliest and will go down the latest.
He told me how the sun goes around the entire earth everyday and every night without stopping - but today - it stands still for a while so everyone can make the most of it.
So I remember, while he was saying this I was staring at the sun - all pink and orange - so pink and orange it matched the colour of my orange pop - and I wondered how long the longest day of the year really was.
Would the sun be up for hours more? Would I have to even go to bed, if the night was going to be the shortest night? Are all the days longer in the summer?
"After this, the days start getting shorter," he told me.
That made me totally sad, it sounds ridiculous - but I remember this big knotted sigh in my chest and at the time, I had no idea why.
It got darker, but the sun was still casting a little bit of light - and I started to see shooting stars all over Johnny's lawn.
Sparks.
Tiny orbs of light.
"See those Danny..." Johnny asked, even though he knew I saw them.
"Those are little stars with wings."
I swear - even the crickets stopped chirping.
The cicades topped buzzing in the trees.
Stars with wings...
To this very day, no one has ever given me a more beautiful metaphor.
Not in any book - not even in any of the supposed "greatest" poems of all time I studied when I was in University.
Nothing comes close and I'll never forget how perfect and beautiful his words matched up with what I was seeing.
He told me a story about how this ravishing, beautiful and SUPER kind princess with a crown made to look like a star was attacked by a jealous lover and he hit her in the head with his sword, killing her - and in doing so, shattered her crown into a million pieces.
Each piece sprouted wings and flew around the castle - lighting it - and then flew outside and lit up the night and the bad man, in awe of the beauty that emerged from the woman he loved when he killed her - knew he made a HUGE mistake.
Anyway, the fireflies were supposedly pieces of her crown, taken over by her spirit (which was super kind - just like her) and they became little...entities of their own - and ultimately carried her spirit away to a better place.
It happened in summer...so every summer - the fireflies come back as a celebration of how beautiful and kind she was.
I firmly believed this when I was a kid.
I remember ever since then trying to get a good look at a fire fly - but they would only light up when they were far away, disappear when I came up close.
Regardless - it was an awesome night and it changed my life.
Every Summer Solstice I make SURE I have the evening free and I sit out in my backyard (or a friend's front porch) and get drunk, for Johnny Horniyak.
Last week, when we had our solstice, I was sitting outside with Life Partner and Julie - having a few beers - and no lie: A little star with wings was floating in the tree above me.
The first fire fly of the year - and we see it on the summer solstice.
Are these kinds of things coincidences? These are the kinds of "symbols" we read about in books...but what does it mean when these things happen in real life?
It sounds like the plot to a cheesey movie - so I'm glad Wayne and Julie were there to see it with me.
I didn't get into the whole legend of fireflies because I didn't want to ruin the moment - but I was thinking about it.
Of course, before I could get a better look at it - it flew up into a tree in my backyard and disappeared into the summer sky - which was turning from orange-pink to navy blue way too fast.
Being a supersticious freak and a nostalgia junkie - the inevitable "what ifs..." came to mind.
Was it a star with wings, coming to celebrate the anniversary of some beautiful princess who was killed? Was it a messenger from Johnny Horniyak, telling me he's okay - and in the same "better place" where the princess was carried away by fireflies to - Johnny is now sitting and staring at the same sky, sipping whiskey? Or was it a little piece of Johnny, and his own subtle way of saying "I'm still kicking around - nice backyard, by the way!"
Or was it just a bug?
Not very romantic of me - and you know what - it just isn't any FUN to believe it's "just a bug" whether it is - or isn't.
Regardless of what Johnny told me about the fireflies - he did teach me two universal truths:

1. The sun goes around the earth constantly, non-stop - and we need to take charge and have as much fun and enjoy the moment - EVERY single moment, no matter what - even if it means delving into your own over-active imagination to smooth over the rougher parts - because we only have the time we have - which is RIGHT NOW - so take what good you can from any moment, and hold onto it for as long as it wants to stay with you.

2. "After this, the days start getting shorter."

And they do.

They keep getting shorter and shorter.
So when the summer solstice comes around - and the sun stands still for those few extra minutes - I personally can't imagine NOT being outside staring up at the sky, with a thousand "what ifs.." travelling through my mind, like little stars with wings.

FIVE BANDS WHO SUCK - BUT I LOVE THEM ANYWAY

1. GWAR
YEAH!! GWAR! Okay - so they can't REALLY sing...they sorta just scream. They make monster-music, thrash rock - they even sold out by appearing on Jerry Springer and in Empire Records..but you know what? They are SOOOO fucking cool! They take performance art to a whole new level - especially for a band who came from the '80s. I was fascinated by this band in my early teens - and to this day - even though I can't stand their music - still have a certain respect for them.

2. WHIGFIELD.
You may remember her as the "Da Dee Da Nah" girl who sang the hit "Saturday Night" which has LITERALLY become the epitomy of ALL dance songs - EVER! To this day - when I am describing a dance song...I still say "Oh...they play dance music..not GOOD dance music...they play stuff like (and then I sing) Saturday Night da dee da nah nah nah dee dah!"
Props to Whigfield for making her mark on music, even if it was the fluffiest song EVER.

3. Ashlee Simpson.
The fact that she was so dicked around for lip-syncing (when meanwhile - ALL her other supposed "more credible" pop colleagues RARELY sing a real note in any "live" concert I ever saw - is bullshit. She is what she is. Jessica Simpson's younger, uglier sister who is so obviously riding her coat tails. She would NEVER have gotten a record deal had it not been for her sister - I think this is common knowlege.
But for some reason...she makes me wanna LA! LA! LA-LA-LA!

4. ACE OF BASE.
Okay. Fine. They suck. But you know what? I LOVE the song "The Sign" and "All That She Wants". They remind me of grade ten. That's a sad excuse, I know.
They suck, no two ways about it.
But they sure did bring back choker necklaces, pig-tails and reggae-pop.
I'm so ashamed.
No I'm NOT!

5. VITAMIN C. (aka Colleen Fitzpatrick).
I love her. I don't care. Yeah she sold out. She used to make some of my favorite glitter-grunge songs ever when she played in her band Eve's Plum (they released two great hard-rocking albums called Cherry Alive and Envy) but the fact that she sold out to mainstream, objectification, cheese-pop songs? HORRIFIC.
But in a good way. I have both of "Vitamin C's" albums and I love-to-hate-them every single time I put them in my CD player - which is more often than not.
When it comes to selling out - you can't do it any better (or cheesier) than Colleen "Vitamin C" Fitzpatrick. She even turned the Strokes song "Last Night" into a dance song, to the tune of Blondie's "Heart of Glass".
Now THAT'S fucking cool.

Gayest. Dream. Ever.

I think I should just lay this one right out in the open.
No dramatics.
No build-up.
No holding back.
(too late!)
I had this dream that I was in an icecream shop/beauty parlor eating sundaes and watching soap operas with a bunch of catty, but GORGEOUS girls.
This bigger black lady (who looked like Star Jones) came in - extensions in her hair, all done up - in ball gown - and everyone was like "Oh my god! You look so AMAZING!"
So she tells us how she's in this beauty pageant thing and it's happening today...then she looks around and she's like: "Wait a minute...am I in a beauty salon?"
and all us "girls", munching down our icecreams are like "YEah!" In unison, and the big black lady starts to cry.
"I never thought I'd make it this far in the modelling business," she sobs.
And of course - in the dream I start bawling because I feel so bad for her.
So then all the girls are like "Oh Dan, you're such a girl!"
And then I realize that I ate my ENTIRE sundae and I start to cry even harder because I'm getting fat.
So then all these chicks are around me, comforting me - and then - I guess for the ultimate "It's okay dan" comfort-gesture, they put on one of those reality t.v. Extreme Makeover shows...(which I don't even watch!) and I was like "this is soo great.." - then it ends up being an emotional episode, so I'm bawling again!!!
What the FUCK!!!???
I mean - I'll be the first to admit - I WILL shed a few tears at a movie if it's kinda sappy and nostalgic - but in this dream I was the ultimate cry baby, sitting at a table full of pecking hens, discussing makeup, cosmetics, the politics of being a heavy, black woman in the modelling industry(!?!?) and - makeovers?!?!?!??!
Someone.
Please.
Interpret.

Hearts and farts,

Dan

Slobsterfest, 2005

Long time no speak, brothers and sisters.
Life Partner and I partook in the annual Lobster fest Extravaganza event this fine, hot, humid, disgustingly murky evening.
It's this yearly dinner thing, all the proceeds go to charity - which charity - I have no idea.
It could be going to the Windsor Christian Fellowship Fund To Castrate All Gay Males Youth Group for all I know - but regardless, I was hyped.
A bunch of fun office girls from Life Partner's work were gonna be there - many who I hadn't seen in a long time - so I decided to get my Lobster crackin' bib on and make my way out to this elegant and swanky event.
Correction:
What we THOUGHT would be an elegant and swanky event.
We made our way down to Forest Glade's Place Concorde (our first clue) and I immediatly assumed they rented out one of the conference halls for the soiree.
WRONG.
It was in the parking lot.
The hottest fucking day of the year - and we were gonna be cracking open dead sea critters in a Forest Glade parking lot.
But whatever - a picnic is a picnic and I'm always up for a good time.
I noticed a big blow up can of Molson Canadian, and it immediatly brought a smile to my face.
Everything was going to be okay.
"Everything is going to be okay," Life Partner said to me, and squeezed my hand reassuringly.
So we drive up and make our way towards um..the tent they erected in the parking lot and we followed the VERY ghetto handmade signs as well as the smell of dead fish baking in the humidity all the way to the tent.
"Ooh..this is sorta trash," Life Partner stated first - and - being rather blind myself - I had to take his word for it.
A group of 40-something divorcees made a line all the way around the tent - paper plates in hand - like a herd of cattle waiting to be dealt their nightly ration of farmer's slop.
"You know what...?" LIfe Partner started to say, as I smiled, taking a good look around.
"What?" I asked.
"Fuck...I don't know."
Normally we are not picky little princesses about our food - but what set Life Partner off was the swarm of flies that erupted out of the bread bowl when he poked his plastic fork in it to fetch us a sun-baked, smog sprinkled bun.
"Eww." He said.
"Pew," I corrected.
We made our way up to the giggly teen girls who were workin' the Lobster table like it was going out of style and were given two red, sad looking creatures - head, eyes, feet and tail - plopped right down on our plates.
I immediatly nearly dropped mine, because the chick was so rough, but said thanks anyway.
We made our way through the picnic tables under the tent (which was probably pushing 85+ degrees - and found a few friends.
Loud talking, white trash with grease and butter stains on their chin, sweat on the foreheads - were everywhere.
"I'm scared, hold me," I whispered to Life Partner, but this chick who looked like Weezie off the Jeffersons was hacking up a piece of Lobster shell and he didn't hear me.
So - we got to hacking and cracking.
I decided to fully give in - and just submit myself to the care-free ways of the people who just don't give a fuck.
Within minutes, I was tearing apart my Lobsters with my bare hands, juice and butter dripping down my arms onto my jeans.
At one point, Life Partner had to reach over and remove a Lobster eye that was hanging delicately in a strand of my hair.
"Ooppsie!" I giggled, through a mouth full of Lobster Flesh, clutching a lobster claw in my other hand.
So we tore it up - literally - I squirted the chick with Lobster Jizz behind me and she didn't even notice but I laughed anyway.
I didn't bother telling her.
Our Lobster's were filled with nasty guts, red shit, green shit - stuff that fell apart in my mouth like stinky pussy chalk.
It was nasty, but I revelled in it. I practically rolled around like a cat in heat - through the dismembered pieces of this poor Lobster, who was boiled alive so I could make a slob of myself amongst a room full of strangers.
It was fucking great. In a dirty, nasty, stinky way.
To top it off - Life Partner and I made a trip to Wal-Mart - smelling like nasty, disgusting gay fishermen - and bought cat food and a pack of Kool-Aid.
Oh yeah.
Summer has begun.

hearts and farts,

Dan.

P.S. - my whole house smells like stinky fish, rotten lobster - and I think I'm about to have the shites. I'm scared.

Scared, I say.

But such is the life of a Slobster.

Fish's Name

I am pleased to announce the name of our new fish (who is still alive, one week and one day - and counting):

"MARS".

Congrats to Lisa for naming our fish. I have to say - it was tough - because we were bombarded with fantastic names from so many people.... "Blaster Cherry", "Red" and "Tuna Sandwich" were among my favorites....but - MARS wins out...and how perfect: It matches PLUTO!!!


so thanks to all who participated!! and thanks for the name Lisa!!!!

Mars, Pluto, LIfe Partner and I all send our thanks and *hearts* and *farts*,

***

wowza

reading my drunk post from last night. at least i'm a happy drunk, right?
*shiver*
i was gonna delete it - out of embarassment - then i was like "Fuck it....let this serve as a reminder of how I *really* get when I drink."
so i'll leave it - in all its glory.
great night....no hangover either.

dan

sign in: drunk post a - la highschool style (a.k.a. - i partied with margarita's people tonight, what the fuck do you expect?

remember my post about waitress hell closing today?
yeah it closed.
i got a call around 10 p;.m. = from a few of my former employees requesting i make an appearance at my former place of employment.
so Life Parnter and i felt damn near obliged.
i got hammered.
i dubbed it the "banquruptcy banquet" (sp?) and all the drinks were free and tracy and hazel and diane were there....and we drank and drank and talked about old times and tracy and hazel admitted to me they used to mall-discount all the billsthey weren't tipped wellon, justlike i used to. oh fuck i'm drunk.
listen,i would normallyh edit a post like this - but on a night like this - nights likewhen a place i worked at for so long is closing and i will probably never see any of these people again - i just need to write what i am writing.
i meant every word i wrote today in my blog about those people. they rock.
god...i feel like a drunken idiot - but if the shoe fits, right?
i feel like i grew up with these people, and in so many ways, i did.
they all taught me about life - about where they are in different phases of their life, be it aging, moving on, becoming a grandparent,becoming a parent,fallingin love or realizingthat all you ever need JUST MIGHT be sitting in the next room, watching CNN and snippets about redundant michael jackson trial.
i am blessed, and i have been blessed all my life by meeting the people i have. if my life were a movie - i would only be a cameo.
the real stars - are all of you - the amazing ones who are my role models, who i live vicariously through, who i debatewith and expose my weaknesses to, who i argue with and hug and kiss - the people who spark my envy and spawn my admiration.
to my former workers, who i'll probably never forget =- who i have seen grow up - who i have seen lose their innocence who i have seen become mature, smart and unbiased.
enough is enough.
good night. i'll miss every one of them.
and life goes on.

p.s. - i got a new job a few days ago. i start monday. could it really be any other day?
coincidence? I think not.
when one door closes, there's always an open window you never even knew existed.
go figure, eh?

hearts and farts,

dan

My Vagina Monologues: Waitress Hell

Another chapter in my life is closing today.
*Insert overly-dramatic sigh here*
Margarita's - a.k.a. "Waitress Hell" - my former place of employment from June 2000 - to January 2005 - is closing her doors for good today.
I'm really sad to see it go.
Seriously.
Yeah - I dubbed it Waitress Hell - and yeah - it had its ups and downs, good and bad points - occaisionally down right shitty to work there - but for the most part - I had fun.
Who am I kidding?
I had TONS of fun.
Anyone who knows me - KNOWS that I loved being a server, even if I did complain once in a while - I had a BLAST and I would do it again in a heartbeat.
Being a server and sometimes-bartender was fantastic.
What other job do you spend in a bar, listening to music, talking to really fun co-workers, laughing and making jokes with the majority of regular customers - who were nice - and rake in a minimum of $20 an hour?
Untouched by taxes at that.
Then at the end of the week - you had a pay cheque waiting for you.
Not a huge cheque - but around $250 - which usually went right into the bank, since you lived off your tips anyway.
It paid my way through college. Helped buy Life Partner and I our house and some of our furniture.
Got us a damn fine CD collection and bought me more than a few beers on more than a few fun nights out.
I also met some really fantastic people there.
Hazel and Diane, for starters.
Two sisters in their late forties - long-time residents of waitress hell - I think they were there for about 17 years, in all its incarnations (Sneaky Petes, Steak and Burger etc).
Both hilarious, fiesty women who were wise-cracking, hard-working "moms-away-from-home" for me.
I could talk to them about anything - as weird or as interesting as I wanted - and we always saw eye-to-eye. I'm one of those people who has a harder time relating to people who are not within my age range - but with these two AMAZING women - it was never a barrier. They were like friends to me - and I know they felt the same way about me - which, coming from them, is an HONOUR.
I'm going to miss them the most - and the fact that I didn't really go back to the mall much to visit these two (and now I will never get the chance to) is TOTALLY hurting me right now - and seriously - i'm kinda choked up just thinking about how they used to smile at me EVERY DAY when I walked in for work.
Hazel and Diane ROCK! And I know this is going to be hard on them too - because this was not just some job for them - this was the job they held for the majority of their life.
They have been waitresses since they were in their teenagers.
This is their longest place of employment. It's going to be super emotional for them today - and I seriously feel like leaving my own work right now just to go see them one more time, and be there for when the doors shut.
Then - there is Tracy.
Tracy and I were the "Best-buddies" of Margarita's. We both were the two other full-time workers, who were there five days a week - for the dreaded but lucrative "day-shift" .
We are both the same age, we both had a college diploma. We both own houses with our significant others and we both have no IDEA what we want to do with our lives.
She just got a job at a Vet clinic - and here I am at "The Furniture Store" - and we still keep in touch - thank god.
She was my sanity - someone who was doing the EXACT same thing as I was - someone who was EXACTLY in the same place as me - LITERALLY - doing the same job and having the same things and wondering what the HELL we were doing and when we were going to realize we were in over our heads.
But the cool thing - neither one of us ever went belly-up - because we always saw that the other one was doing okay, which meant - we probably were too.
What I love about Tracy though - is her niceness. She is hands-down - one of the most positive people I have ever met - if she even ate so much as an olive from the salad bar, she'd feel sick with guilt for "stealing".
She always thought the best of EVERYONE and refused to think negative thoughts about anyone. There are not a lot of people like Tracy - and I seriously think that just seeing the way she is with everyone - and her outlook on life - has made me a nicer person - even if I only try to base myself on just ONE of her many, amazing traits.
Teresa.
Teresa was fantastic. She too, is also a one-in-a-million person. She was a vegetarian since she was a young teenager - and without being gimmicky or tacky or trendy - she just emmanates this whole "peace-vibe" to everyone she talks to.
I always felt like a totally understood her and she totally understood me - and we just got along PERFECTLY - always making each other laugh.
She used to come in with ridiculous sayings like: "Oh my god!!! Dan - listen how nice this is: 'Women are like teabags...you don't know how strong they are until they are in hot water!'" and I would be like: "How about this Teresa: Women are like tea-bags: Use them once - and then throw them away."
And of course - I was the only one who could get away with saying shit like that to her. We used to write each other emails via the work computer, like "Tim farted, pass it on."
Teresa made my shifts fly by, just because she was so damn hilarious and different and cool and laid back.
She once wanted to wear jeans to work - so she brought her black work-pants to work - and "accidentally" dropped them in the toilet - "forcing her" to wear jeans all day.
My very first day on the job - she nick-named me "Blue" (I had navy blue hair) and we kept turning corners and bumping each other - and the first thing she said was: "I think you and I are on the same wave-length".
In retro-spect - what a perfect first-thing-to-say to someone, especially someone who I still consider one of the coolest people I know.
We are definetely on the same wavelength.
And of course - Brea (the ultimate of all waitresses), Steph (the cool Sleater-Kinney and Courtney Love fan who was seven years younger than me, but seemed like seven years older)Rosie (who I miss so much ever since she left a few years ago) and Kathy G (who just flat-out ROCKED and I should have got her number before she quit - she was like the psycho aunt everyone LOVED to party with), Jenny - the sweetest girl who had a heart the size of the moon, Tim, Melinda, Sophia, Chantelle, Trish (aka Patricia - KOO !KOO! in a good way), Morgan and Kendall (the hottie twins with the husky voices who everyone seems to know - who I got to watch grow up before my eyes), Michelle - who scares me as much as she makes me laugh, James and Jewel the happy couple, Kathy, Tracy R. (the other coolest chick in the world), Erin, Jen, Shannon (who had a little bit of a psycho-scary crush on me at one point), Keith, Mister Jeffy D The Great, Todd (who I thought was HOT but never told anyone - but a great guy to talk to about anything), Derek-the-nice-jock-who-wanted-to-be-a-cop)Jon and Diane (who I introduced to each other at Margarita's and they are now married and have not one - but TWO children) My favorite kitchen and prep guys Paul, Bryan, and Riley, and of course - Sarah (who coined the term: "that's a horse-cock of a hotdog!") Christa, Jessica (also a sexy bartender at the Loop), Kim (my old favorite manager from long ago), Dana - who I blatantly lied to on my first day - saying i had experience as a server when I didn't - and she KNEW I was lying and Danielle - who was puked on one night by Riley at the Loop - and to all the regulars: Joe, Neil, Nancy, Maria, Cheryl, Taco-Salad Lady, Quesadilla Lady, The Perfume Lady, Helmet Head, The Stinky Family, all who tipped me and made me laugh and made me pissed but kept on tipping me as if I were wiping your ass, a cheers to you all.
And to the girl who got me the job: Christine.
I had what some would say an "interesting" kind of love-hate (literally - the most literal form of love-hate ever) relationship with this girl for about fourteen years.
She gave me this job - which pretty much changed my life and gave me a whole new outlook on what it means to have a job - and play your part - and enjoy what you are doing for what it IS you are doing.
Not for status, or title.
Just - a job. How we're all ants who play a tiny, miniscule part - and how we can make it feel gigantic if we love what it is we do and the people we do it with.
I can't even get into all the aspects of my life Christine has left her mark on, but there are thousands - probably some I don't even realize.
Regardless - tonight I just want to raise my glass to Margarita's - which, in my opinion - will forever be known as THE Devonshire mall Restaurant to end all Devonshire mall restaurants.
Cheers to Waitress Hell and to what it IS:
A trashy, smokey, fun, yucky, hilarious, quirky, failing, thriving nut-case of an establishment, where Bay ladies, Zellers check-out clerks and MAC Counter make-up artists all converge under the same roof to partake in stellar service and iffy-quality food.
May it rest in peace - I'll remember it for the rest of my life.

:) Hearts and farts, to Margarita's!!!

Here's a few slogans Brea and I once made up when Margarita's was trying to change its image, but they never flew all that well with management:

"Margarita's: If the long-wait doesn't kill ya, the food will!"

"Margarita's:
Where you wait for EVER
...and when you get your food...
you'll wish you NEVER!"

and the final one:

"Margarita's Good Time Lounge:
If you think the service sucks,
just wait till you get your food!"

Once again - a big thanks to Margarita's for making half a decade of my life a damn good one.

The Haiku Post

I was flipping through various pictures on the internet trying to find an appropriate one for me to rip off and create some kind of poster for a Summer Solstice party or CD.
Instead - i got sucked in to some random Haiku page (except the poems the dude was writing technically weren't haikus, seeing as I always thought haikus were made up of three lines - first line being five syllables, second being seven and third back to five) so it inspired me to write some of my own haikus about events taking place in my life right now.
hey - i'm at work, what the hell else am i gonna do, right?
Although - I have to admit - I love the vagueness of haikus, the way they Kinda-sorta make sense..but just sound so dry and abstract.
too much fun.

here we go....

Why I Fucking Hate My Car.

sweat poured from my face -
motor oil smelled of my death;
shitbanger sucks shit.

---------------------------

Stoned.

my head turns to fuzz
this bag of chips consumes me,
i think i just pissed.

---------------------------

Fart.

what would you do if...
it grew from stank beginnings
...and the room cleared out.

---------------------------

Staring at My Ex Boyfriend, From Afar.

I saw you dancing,
You were laughing, and I wished
Your ass would explode.

---------------------------

For Karmen, When She Doesn't Come Over Late at Night To Party.

My disappointment...
the drinks stay cold in the fridge,
I hope you catch cold.

(Just kidding karm)

--------------------------

Life Partner

I'm scared of the dark,
I sometimes over-react,
You hold my hand.

--------------------------

Baby-Talk
(also for karmen)

Ga-Ga-Me-Foo-Foo!
Me Poo-Poo In My Pant-Ies.
I made a stinky.

-------------------------

Pluto

My wild beast-like pet
I used to be allergic,
I don't like play-bites.

-------------------------

My House

I run down the stairs
The floors creak above my head.
Please don't be haunted.


THE END!!!!

Stranded on Walker Road during Rush Hour in the Middle Lane: A Journal Entry

.
.
.
Dear Diary,

I've had it.
I'm getting a fucking bike.

hearts and farts,

Dan

NAME THAT FISH!!!!

Above, you will see a picture of my brand new fish.
The camera was a bit out of focus, so the picture isn't a PERFECT example of what she looks like, but you get the idea.
She's a fire engine red betta fish and Life Partner and I are going to try the whole "Fish-Thing" yet again.
This time - she/he has a smaller bowl, I have her on a very betta-fish-esque eating schedule and her bowl is near sunlight - so all the elements are in the right place.
We were originally going to call this fish POLYCHRONIC - but...we decided agasint that becasue it just doesn't work for some reason.
The fish does NOT look like a Polychronic.
The problem is - we don't know WHAT the fish looks like.
SO I am calling out to you - my friends and fellow-bloggers - who I often seek refuge with getting lost in your wonderfully incredible blogs - and also - any faceless people who read my blog but do not comment - so I don't know you exist.
This is your chance to name our new fish.
If you can - before Saturday night - pick a couple (three or so) potential names for this new fish.
Life Partner and I are then going to write everyone's picks down on seperate pieces of paper and have a Name-That-Fish draw on Saturday night around 10 p.m. or so.
The names can be male/female/sexless...they can be average-joe type names like....um... "Joe" or they can be extravagant and bizarre, such as "I Wish My Green Leaf Beer Speaker Didn't Have to Lock Itself in The Attic".
Anything will be accepted - profane or christ-like.
So - there you go...we're gonna draw the name - and the first one we draw - that's the keeper.
So it will be a surprise - email me directly at deadshark77@hotmail.com with your picks, that way the names will not be in my blog comments.
Be as creative as you want....

bye for now,

dan

No More Tears

Read my last post.
Okay. Done?
So much has changed.
Today - as of now - I am sitting in a beautiful, air-conditioned version of what was not even 24 hours ago a swampy, humid, molten mess of a house.
I am on my third beer, I am listening to my new favorite band Dressy Bessy (a band who brightens my entire WEEK when I hear one album - I think everyone needs to realize the joy this band - or any band who focuses on writing positive-summer music can bring) and I just got finished barbequeing a hot spicey sausage that I bought freshly cut from the market.
(insert relieved SIGH here)
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
It is gorgeous days like these that I realize how ridiculously RICH I am.
NOt rich like big-bank account rick.
In fact, I kind of get a pang of panic when I think of my bank statement - but whatever. I am not going to let material things bog me down.
The fact that I get to have a beautiful almost-summer day off and barbeque and drink beer and relax and not have to worry about any of my friends or family or my cat or Life Partner....and I have a yard to sit outside in....it blows my mind.
I always think to myself: Shit, I thought I'd be doing *this* or *that* by the time I am 28....but if I could see into the future, to this VERY day back when I was 15 or 16 and see a vision of me as a slightly chubbier, shorter-haired version of myself sipping beer by a pond while barbequing in my backyard on my day off in a house in a neighborhood that I always wanted to live in with someone who is the absolute PERFECT person in the world for me - listening to new music that is still stimulating and happy and just like what I always listen to....I'd think to my teenaged-self:
"Shit Dan, I guess you end up doing something right after all."
It doesn't always feel that way - but when you look at the REALLY big picture - I guess it all boils down to happiness - and that is what richness should be measured in.
So today - I feel like the richest person in the world.
Tomorrow however, might be a different story.
Spicey sausages don't always sit all that well with me.

hearts and sausage farts,

dan

p.s. - please take into account, i have had a few drinks...so the lovey-dovey vibe is coursing through my veins.

(Insert Sobbing Sounds Here)

I spent last night drenched in sweat, wide awake - eyes gazing wildly around the shadows of my room, my skin itching, the buzz and hum of electronic fans grating on the frayed edges of my last, dying nerves...and I wept.
Okay - I didn't weep, I was being dramatic- but it was one hot as fuck night, and my central air is broken.
Of course it is.
Why *WOULDN'T* it be broken on LITERALLY the HOTTEST days of 2005, thus far?
It wouldn't make sense if it was working perfectly, purring like a kitten and caressing my bare ass with frosty-soft kisses of ice cold air.
Central Air Repair Guy is coming tomorrow - my day off - and I'm going to be rubbing up against his leg, huffing and puffing with my tail wagging when he arrives at my front door - that's how excited I'll be to see him.
I'm actually HAPPY to be in the dump I call my place of employment right now, because it has air conditioning, and just to give myself a chuckle - I cranked the air up to 67, so I'm damn near shivering.
I'm trying to suck up as much cold air as possible, in preparation for the hell I am surely destined to endure tonight, with Life Partner and Pluto.
Poor Pluto is holding up well.
She's meowing a little more than usual, and has taken on a new love and appreciation for cold water and the bathroom floor - but other than that - she's as playful and naughty as ever, so at least she's happy.
Our house is temporarily on "SHUT DOWN" mode.
Use of the oven or stove is strictly prohibited.
Absolutely under NO circumstances may we use the dryer.
If this means going to work in a dripping wet pair of cordouroys and a wrinkled shirt straight out of the washing machine, so be it.
Our blinds are to remain shut and sealed during daylight hours, so as not to let any sunshine leak in and nuke us, causing our heads to explode from absorbing to much heat.
At Life Partner's request, I am on a strict diet of no salsa, curry or overly spicey food to avoid "the pea soup-fart effect" , which is bad enough when the house is a liveable temperature.
If acidic or spicey food were to meet with my stomach - and have a reaction - at these unsafe temperatures....well...the outcome could be...catastrophic.
I'm working on my very first website...the content is going to be a secret for now..but let me tell you - I am working on this bitch like NOTHING I have ever worked on before.
My fingers are sore from typing, I've been slaving away both at home and during work hours (so in a way, I am getting PAID to work on it!! HAHAHAHA! - Life is sweet, indeed!) and I still have a long way to go - but I'll keep you posted as it gets closer to completion.
Until then...despite the heat, humidity and misery that comes when temperatures blow open the tops of thermometers with the force of Vesuvious, life will go on.
We will prevail.
If you're sitting and suffering from the heat - rub an ice cub across the nape of your neck and know you are not alone.
If you're sitting in freezing, ice cold air conditioning - I want you to pick up the nearest wooden ruler or spoon - and give yourself a quick and stinging slap on the arse for not inviting Life Partner and I over to bask in the glory of air-conditioned heaven.
hearts and farts,

dan

P.S. - chili for lunch...dear god...this could be the end.

Why Jem and the Holograms was Crucial to my Development into the Person I Am Today. - OR - Why I *HEART* Jem!

Jem and the Holograms was my favorite cartoon - EVER.
Like, EVER.
EVER.
Think about it:
A pop-rock princess and her all-girl band of funky hair-coloured chick rockers who were loved and adored by everyone (and all played their own instruments) and only appeared as glam starlets under the "hologram" programming by a ladytron-like computer named "Synergy".
Under the hologram, Jem was really a business woman, Jerrica Benton - who was the brains, manager and center of the fame and fury that was Jem and the Holograms.
But heaven forbid anyone found out that the same woman infront of the mic was running the show.
It was a huge secret.
So Jerrica let her boyfriend - the purple haired hot hunk of man meat "Rio" - believe that Jem was actually a different person. And Jerrica and her other, more rocking personality Jem would play games with poor Rio and flirt with the guy, probably turning his cock the same colour as his hair.
Poor Rio with blue balls.
Then - the counter-rival rock group - The Mifits.
The Misfits were my favorite.
The mean, riot grrl rockers - in retrospect, I picture their style to be a cross between early L7, Peaches and Veruca Salt, but dirtier...just nasty, skanky rocker chicks.
Mean Joan Jetts. Mean Plasmatics.
Roxy, Pizazz and Stormer.
They were run by Eric Drayson, the evil corporate record executive who always wore a suit and a scowl - and he was in it for the money, not the music or making a "change".
Whereas Jem and the Holograms were like...the indie rockers...the people who didn't have a huge label to back them up - The Misfits had Eric Drayson, a man who sat in an office and did nothing but think of ways to sell the Misfits and beat out their main $$$ competetor, Jem.
There really was a lot going on in that show.
The one woman show who was not what she appeared to be (Pink Haired glam starlet VS astute business-woman with a professional knowlege of the recording industry) and then the bad-girls of rock and roll who said and did nasty things and sold themselves out to The MAN so they could cash in on as much bad publicity stunts and manipulated media portrayal as possible.
FUCKING GREAT!!
This show was proof that I was meant to be the host of an all-female-fronted-bands radio show.
I got into Jem right around the same time as I got into the Bangles - just something about watching women on stage bang on guitars and scream into microphones always made my blood pressure pump and my heart skip a beat.
And yes - I played with the dolls.
I used to go to my friend Kelly's house (when I was eight) and bring along my ghetto blaster and my bangles All Over the Place cassette and my favorite game was setting them up with their guitars (after picking out their rock star wardrobe) and playing Bangles songs and make them perform. Over and Over and Over.
Kelly was interested in making them fuck.
I just wanted them to rock out with their band.
Regardless - Jem and the Holograms ROCKS and if they EVER make a movie version of the cartoon - they better fucking NOT pick Hillary Duff to play Jem.
Regardless, Jem and the Holograms really set it in stone for me - the type of music and elements of music that I would go on in life to find the most interesting and engaging.
Rock on JEM!!!!!!

PS - thanks to my FANTASTIC friend Karmen who gave me a burned DVD of the Jem and the Hologram episodes!! It prompted me to write this today - and I have been meaning to write a Jem post since I started this blog waaaay back in December...JESUS!!!
SIX MONTHS AGO!?!?!?!?!
How has it been half a year already??? oh my god.
I have to find a real job!
gotta run.

Dan