"That's so gay."

"That's so gay."
You know that saying? With the negative connotation?
It's not yet socially unacceptable to say this.
Well - actually...no...it IS socially unacceptable to say it.
There are just a lot of socially unacceptable people out there who clearly aren't ready to move forward and get with the program.
Smart people know this.
Hicks still say it.
Idiots still say it.
People who are pretending to be ultra-hip and completely cool ...they still say it.
That's how I know they are pretending to be cool.
Because cool people...don't say this.
Smart people know you sound like a dork when you say it.
We notice when you say it.
We roll our eyes when you say it.
We even talk to each other - other smart people - we have our secret meetings and we say things like: "Did you know so-and-so made a 'that's so gay' slip today?"
And we usually shake our heads and say: "What an asshole."
I'm sorry if I offend anyone - but it's true.
I am offended when I hear so many people say it like it's nothing.
You are replacing words like "dumb", "silly", "stupid", or "worthless" with the word "gay".
What is that saying?
What little subtle message is that sending out?
I'm not saying you are homophobic by saying this.
I'm merely pointing out that you aren't thinking.
It didn't always bother me - but lately - my patience has just run short on this subject.
It's annoying as hell.
I bite my tongue harder and harder each time.
Seriously - can you blame me?
I try to be a nice guy - and if I'm offensive in some way - tell me - and I promise you - I'll think about what I said and probably never say it again.
I'm not the type to make a stink about many things - other than animal rights - but this "that's so gay" bullshit - is exactly that:
Bullshit.
End it. Now.
Pretty please?
I usually give folks one freebie.
Say it once - and I can grin while you blush a deep crimson because you know you just screwed up.
I won't say anything because I know - you are so damn embarassed and feel like such an ass - it's lesson learned.
It's offensive and it is something you will never say again.
Yet...there are others who still say it.
They keep on it.
2009 newsflash: It's a no-no, folks.
Surprise surprise.
Unless you're talking about Madonna's dance troupe - or the video with Bea Arthur and Rock Hudson - or a great big happy rainbow flag waving in a gargantuan gay pride parade - it's not cool to say "That's so gay."
Let's all spread the word.
Let's frown when people say it.
Let's correct people.
Or even better - let's ask them HOW or WHY something is "gay" when they name it as such.
I'm curious to know the answer.
Is it really homosexual in nature?
Or are they just not thinking before they open their mouthes?
Are they just not aware that they are indeed being...well...an asshole?

It would be like me saying: "God...that's such a hetero thing to say."
It's not. Stupidity is not a heterosexual trait.
"That's so gay" - It's just plain "dumb".

So...I'm merely calling it as I see it.

Dumb. Dumb. Dumb.

(Dan)

Art Snobs.

Last night I went to this art-party thing, very briefly.
Tons of nice paintings...and packed with people - which I think is great.
Not as artsy fartsy as I thought it would be - and trust me - I like artsy fartsy.
I love eccentric weirdos. Always have!
Nope. It certainly wasn't artsy fartsy.
I noticed there was tons of...I don't know what to call it... snooty-mingling.
Everyone yapping - using TONS of words...but no one connecting.
No one saying a SINGLE real thing to each other.
"How's it going?" I heard someone ask someone else.
"Going? Ah yes...going...what a wonderful noun.."
Then someone else would pipe in: "Ah-ha - noun you say - and you would be correct...BUT - and when I say *but*, I do not mean to say you are mistaken..."
"No no - of course not...go on..."
"Well - yes indeed, 'GOING' is a noun...but it's also an adjective...when you said it was a noun, I just want to point out, it would be EQUALLY correct to say it's an adjective."
"Funny you should say that - because when I asked how it was going - I was using it as an idiom!!"
"Well, what is this *it* you speak of anyway, when you ask how *it* is going?"
(polite chuckle and wine being sipped.)
Wow.
Seriously.
Every damn conversation was like that!! Everyone talking...and no one saying a thing.
The question was simply: "How's it going..?" for cripes sake!

The real humdinger of the night came when everyone started making it a point to list what they do for a living along with their name.
"I'm Kelly, philosophy professor."
"I'm Ryan, micro-biologist."
And then I was actually introduced to someone...
"Dan...meet Tiffany...physician."
Ok.
Like...was this social networking? Were they telling me she was a physician because perhaps she was looking for patients? What was I supposed to say to her?
"Oh wow! You must know so much about the human body! And you must make TONS of money!"
I was clueless - but the ball was in my court...I had to reply SOMEHOW...had to say SOMETHING...had to acknowlege the fact that she was a physician, since they found it so important to tell me...but really...I could care less!
So I said, simply: "Oh! A physician! I need one of those! Believe it or not, I don't have one! Isn't that horrific!!??"
The physician looked at me and said: "Can't help you."
I burst out laughing and extended my hand.
"Hi, I"m Dan," says I. "Copy-writer."
No response.
"Well then," I said.
And...yeah. That was pretty much it.
Awk. Ward.
Althought not as awkward as the moment when someone said something rude to my friend.
Be as plastic or as self-important as you want - but since when is insulting someone okay?
My friend wouldn't say a peep to anyone - but someone said something to her that night with the sole purpose of creating an awkward situation. It was mean.
And I was disgusted.
You know - it was funny. All these folks, uber-liberal, professional, academic, pirouetting around the room and using their language as a shield...it always seems to be this group of people who are the rudest and most vulgar. They're vultures - who are so insecure all they can do is pump up how GREAT they are by promoting themselves as the one thing they gave their lives away for: Their career.
And of course, by going for the jungular and hitting others where it hurts.
To build themselves up.
I'd say it's plain old mean - but I think it's more than that.
When one cuts another up - it's because they are trying to use that person as a ladder...or a step...to walk on, crush down on - and bring themselves up higher.
It's insecurity. Insecurity always brings out ugliness.
I am all about loving one's job...I work 6 - sometimes 7 days a week and I absolutely love what I do.
But it's like..these people were throwing around their impressive job titles - and then they'd wait.
They'd wait for a reaction.
They'd wait for validation.
"Good for you."
"Really? How fascinating!"
"Wonderful! A physician, you say...? Amazing!"
Validation.
An answer that - yes - your life is good and worthwhile because what you do so obviously defines who you are.
It comes off as snobbery...but really, it's sad.
A bunch of grown ups playing roles they've been assigned - talking a really really big talk...but not really saying a whole heck of a lot at all.
Except rude, unnecessary one-liners designed to catch innocent people off guard - when they are at their most defenseless - to make them feel uncomfortable.
I was disgusted. Grossed out even.
Art is beautiful. But it's unfortunate so many of these openings and art parites feel like a stuffy networking conference for the emotionally-broken so much of the time.
It's 2009..."snob" is out. Elite is a club that is no longer cool to be a part of.
The cool kids in the cafeteria...they were never all that cool, in retrospect, and people see that now.
But...such is the game, right?
I left that party shaking my head.
I can take the career-title-dropping...I can take the bizarre language...but the mean stuff?
We're all better than that.
We can all do better.
There's no reason to be mean or to think one is better than everyone else.
It's 2009.
Being "human" is in.
Smiling can and WILL make you a more attracive and interesting person.
And when all else fails, when you really don't feel like connecting - there's the age-old saying:
"If you don't have anything nice to say...don't bother saying anything at all."

I guess I should take my own advice here, shouldn't I?
Whooopsie!

Cool Head Warm Heart.

I have been craving summer in a FEROCIOUS way lately.
The little hints of nice weather last weekend and the promise of more beautiful, sunny, blue skies this weekend...well, it's got me squirming in my spring jacket like a kid in math class - SECONDS before the home-time bell rings.
So...tonight - in the spirit of summertime anticipation - I poured myself a Malibu Rum on ice...and I popped on some Beach Boys.
I even popped in some old school Mike Love. I do draw a distinction between the two: The Beach Boys...and Mike Love. Some do not.
Just sayin'.
Anyway, I chanced upon a really cool song...oddly enough - from Mike Love.
The song is called "Cool Head Warm Heart".
Isn't that an incredible - yet simple concept? I guess most profound thoughts are exactly that: Simple.
The simplest most genius things are forever on the tip of our tongues - as plain as the nose on our faces - which is why we over-look them so often.
Now don't get me wrong - it is a painfully cheesy song - but the concept, it really got me thinking.
Cool Head. Warm Heart.
What a combination.
I have to admit - I can fly off the handle and get my panties in a bunch over many, many trivial things - and I realize this is the wrong way of dealing. In fact - it's not dealing at all.
When I had that little "incident" with a certain editor of a certain newspaper...I kicked up a HUGE stink...I was pissed.
I once wrote a really harsh comment on someone's blog - someone who was voicing their opinion about who should have the right to marry. I called them a few names. I was pissed.
A chick bumped me at the grocery store once with her cart, and huffed at me.
"Bitch," I said - and kept going. Yup - I was pissed.
Perhaps rightfully so...but...is it REALLY "rightfully so"?
Lately - i've been trying to think deeper about things that piss me off and things that I do that piss OTHER people off.
Getting mad over opinions of others...is kind of ridiculous... in fact - it's kind of horrific.
Basically - when it comes to the woman who bumped my cart and when it comes to that blogger who was merely voicing his opinion on who he thinks should have the right to get married - and when it comes to that editor of that news paper...when I let them make me mad - I am in a way - handing over ALL MY POWER to them - I'm allowing them to control the ONE THING that is solely mine and mine alone:
My peace of mind.
No one should be able to take that from us.
Nor should we allow it to be taken by something that is - ultimately - trivial.
I'm not saying there is no such thing as "right" and "wrong" in the world.
But - the opinions of others...is that what defines us?
Honest question.
I don't know the answer to it.
The fact that we are capable of allowing ourselves to fly off the handle...that speaks to me.
It's a lesson. They say the universe is constantly talking to us and trying to teach us something.
Whether or not you believe in all that stuff...I don't know, maybe there is some merit to it.
Every single thing is a small lesson. A tiny moral. Namely - how we effect people with our actions and our words. How we perceive. How we are perceived.
We'll never fully get it. At least I won't.
REAL security...REAL peace of mind...it can only be found in two places.
Our heads and our hearts.
That's our biggest defense against all the shit and muck and crap we are presented with as obstacles in this life - designed specifically to bring us down.
It's also linked to our BIGGEST fault: the fact that we often forget that we HAVE this defense.
If you are sitting on Facebook right now - reading this - maybe at work, maybe at home - maybe with a few spare minutes to throw away before you head on out about your day - it means you are PROBABLY in a situation where you have some choice in the matter of your life.
You live in a free state, of sorts.
And it all goes back to that. Freedom of choice.
Our options.
Do we keep a cool head and a warm heart?
Do we cherish our own peace of mind and our own convictions...or do we give them away and relinquish that power to the first person who rubs us the wrong way?
Do we want to give that person that kind of power, that kind of control - the control to completely throw off our sense of who we are - by a few choice words on their part?
I don't know who said it first - but I do know Woody Harrelson quoted it.
He said "Freedom is being able to do whatever you want - so long as you do not infringe on the freedoms of others."
That's a crazy amount of possibility. And it's perfectly logical.
There's a lot of crazy shit going on out there...but really - who defines crazy?
Crazy is relative. Everyone ultimately - will do their own thing and hopefully it won't stop you from doing yours.
The fantasy that we'll all do it and all agree with each other...well...that's PURE fantasy.
Nothing more. It's all in our heads.
Best way to deal with it all is with a cool head and a warm heart.

Thank you, Mike Love - for that tune.
It's an absolutely beautiful concept.
That being said...it is STILL an extremely cheesy song.
And that's just my opinion.
Don't sweat the small stuff...because that's all any of us are in the great, big, infinite picture...
...Right?

Earth Day in Windsor...whatcha doin'?

I hate being the preachy, bitchy, yappy, whiny vegetarian - but it's Earth day.
Cut me some slack (so long as the slack isn't a moving, crawling, breathing, slithering thing with a beating heart and a central nervous system).
That goes without saying.
It's Earth Day - and the best way to "do something green" - is "go veg".
Straight up. Even if only for a day.
I know, "eyeroll" - but hear me out.
Some quick facts: If every Canadian skipped one meal of chicken per week and substituted vegetables and grains … the carbon dioxide savings would be the same as taking more than half a million cars off of the roads.In the U.S. - having one meat-free day per week would be the same as taking 8 million cars off American roads.
Refusing (or reducing) your meat intake is the SINGLE MOST EFFECTIVE WAY TO REDUCE YOUR CARBON FOOTPRINT.
More than recycling.
More than bicycling.
More than composting.
That's insane to me.
Absolutely amazing.
I became a vegetarian because I was a hyopcrite.
My dog had just passed away and I was really bummed out. I stumbled across some online advertisement for a rodeo - and accidentally clicked on a video - some kind of animal action video, exposing all the horrific injuries rodeo animals suffer - for "sport".
I was disgusted. And shocked. How could roping a baby calf - a terrified baby calf - possibly be entertaining?
But there they were: hoards of families - with kids cheering and clapping as the "athlete" or so-called "hero" roughly roped up a baby cow that wasn't even a year old.
Spurring bucking horses, taunting angry bulls, hog tying baby animals who were scared and without means to defend themselves against grown men.
Disgusting. Outrageous. Repulsive. Just a few of the PG rated words that came to mind.
I immediately wrote a very nasty note to the manager of the rodeo with more than my share of F words. My bad. But - I was in shock.
I'd never seen anything like it and just never really gave it much thought.
I hit "send" - walked away from my computer - and then sat down to a lovely steak dinner.
Nice.
I got half way through my steak, and pushed the plate away.
I was outraged about the tied up baby cow at the rodeo - but for some reason - the piece of cow on my plate was completely fine?
It made me think.
The next night my good friend James was celebrating his birthday and we all went out to eat at an Indian restaurant.
I ordered my three favourite dishes:
Butter Chicken, Tandoori Chicken and Indian Lamb w/ spinach.
I remember my food coming out - and staring at it...and being repulsed.
Chunks of a dead thing, swimming in sauce.
Delicious sauce...but - dead things in it.
It was like a light switch went off in my brain. I was sickened.
I gagged back half of it - and left the rest.
I vowed - never again. No more meat.
I never looked back.
Not for one single MILI-SECOND since my friend's birthday have I even had the SLIGHTEST craving for meat.
Today - years later - I am 100% positive - FAR beyond a shadow of a doubt - that going vegetarian is the SINGLE GREATEST decision I have ever made for myself.
If someone did to an animal on the street - what they do to animals in a slaughter house - they would be arrested for animal cruelty.
Now - I am not saying I am better than meat eaters. Not a bit.
Friends - hell - Wayne, my partner for nearly an entire DECADE is a meat eater.
To each his own - it's not my place to tell ANYONE what they can or cannot eat and I would never do that. Everyone has their own deal - everyone has their own way of looking at things.
Some see a burger.
Some see a chunk of a dead cow.
Neither interpretation is incorrect.
But - I can share my story. I can share some facts.
Bottom line is this:
Pigs are animals who - like dogs and cats - have dreams. They recognize their names, play video games more effectively than some primates, enjoy listening to music, playing with soccer balls, and getting massages.
Cows actually cry tears when their babies are taken from them. They develop life long friendships, and -when they are not living short and hellish lives in factory farms - enjoy hanging out with their families - living and raising their babies and spending their lives in tight circles of friendships with other cows - and they live up to 20 years, although they rarely get the chance to do this.
A chicken's life expectancy is 8 to 15 years. The same as many dogs. More than many dogs. They too develop friendships and relationships and form families - which they remain in their entire lives. 99 percent of all chickens do not have this luxury.
Someone made a comment to me the other day at the grocery store because I had a plastic bag for my groceries. She had a point. A very good point, and I instantly turned red with embarassment.
Then I noticed the steak in HER shopping cart.
It got me thinking.
If I were to start pointing fingers at everyone with a steak in their shopping cart and calling them callous or "murderers"- for carrying a piece of a dead thing around - they would call me "kooky, crazy, animal-nazi guy".
People in glass houses shouldn't throw stones, but I sucked it up and took it.
She had a point.
But heaven FORBID I shared mine.
It's a big carbon footprint.
It's a lot of pain and suffering.
Is a plate of butter chicken or a steak from a fancy chophouse seriously worth it?
I'm not saying it is - or it isn't.
But - if Earth Day is about respecting this planet - that means it's also about respecting the creatures we share this planet with.
They so rarely get to enjoy it the way we do.

Biggest Loser: Final Weigh In

Fifteen weeks, brothers and sisters.
I'm down a total of 12 pounds.
No, not my goal - but - I learned a LOT from this competition.
About laziness, about weight being a number, about portion control, about the importance of excercise. I'm down over 10 pounds.
I feel good. I like how I look. It's BARELY spring - warm weather is coming...
In that sense: I won.
Congrats to first place winner Greg Gnyp!
Congrats to second place winner Melanie Deveau!
Congrats to third place winner Sarah Casella!

While I'm at it - congrats to EVERYONE who took part in this competition.
While I'm glad it's over, I will miss the spirit of being "in it together" with my co-workers. It's fantastic having a support system, seeing and hearing success stories, slip-ups, temptations and tips.

Fifteen weeks. January 5th - April 20th.

I am indeed going to stay on this healthy path. When you do something for fifteen weeks, even though I admit - I did do some of it half-assed at times - you can't help but pick up a few habbits.
I picked up some fantastic habbits.
The importance of eating breakfast.
The importance of drinking plenty of water.
And the fact that it is PARAMOUND - especially as a vegetarian - to eat as many portions/servings of vegetables a day.
I learned about good fats. And bad fats.
When to have carbs, when to have protein.
What my limits are - and how to eat healthy, drop weight and STILL live my life without restricting what I enjoy.

Re-reading that...how the HECK can I say I didn't win?

I lost over ten pounds...and I gained a FANTASTIC new take on what I put into my body.

Dan

CITY STRIKE: What is it all worth?

"Windsor residents will feel the full brunt of the city workers’ strike beginning Monday."
That was the first line I read in the Windsor Star today. Good morning, sunshine.
As if we all haven't been through enough.
I support workers and their struggle to earn a living - I'm a member of a union myself.
It's difficult though, for me right now - to understand what it is all worth...and what it is all about.
I get that the bottom line is money. It is. It sounds ugly - but it's always the bottom line.
People want more. People don't want to pay as much. More for less.
It's not even greed - I think it's just the way it is.
But the things I have seen over the weekend...the mounds of garbage - just in time for Earth Day (!!!), the long line up because Spits fans were held up at the game due to picket lines...people not going out because cabs are on strike...it got me thinking.
A city that is hurting bad...is hurting even more.
For what? The bottom line?
Cash? Lack of communication? Lack of planning? I don't know.
Can anyone field this one?
Let's face it - an agreement WILL be made eventually. Something is going to happen.
Strikes don't last forever.
So why wait?
Get in the room and END it. Why are WE being punished? Is it to prove a point?
We get it.
Come to an agreement already. End this. It is ridiculous and proves NOTHING except that we are still slaves to our ego and REFUSE to lose this "who is gonna budge first" pissing contest.
Get the garbage out of the street before the rat population exceeds the human population and drags the city down even further.
If the bottom line is money - give them what they want.
Just give it to them.
Yes, it's a blow to the ego - but look on the bright side:
If you can't afford to pay them what they want - you can lay a bunch of them off.
It's completely justified.
Cut backs. "The way things are with today's economy..."
Blah. Blah. Blah.
Even certain educational institutions who ARE NOT suffering from this economic crisis are using that excuse. Education is booming - everyone is going back to get a second career...yet - there are cut backs there too.
The answer always seems to be laying people off.
So why not give them the money they are demanding - and lay them off?
Then - they can get a higher percentage of unemployment insurance while they look for a new job.
Everyone wins.
Right?
Wrong. Of course that's wrong.
Thing is - we're in the centre of a shit storm.
Money is something that is on everyone's mind.
And everyone wants more.
Everyone. I'm not whining about strikers or the city.
Oh I am certainly whining - no doubt about it - but it is not the city or the striker's fault.
I'm talking about us.
In general. We forget that we are people. We become "Strikers" and "The City" becomes a select few.
We forget that we are all people - from the suits to the skids.
All of us - are people.
At a time when every one of us should be coming together - we all seem more divided than ever before.
That should be the bottom line: A city rallying together to help EVERYONE get through this as smoothly as possible.
But - it's not.
At the very bottom of every single problem in the world - the sludge at the base of the bottle - the nasty sediment - the gross residue that stinks up the entire batch - it's money.
Hypnotic, controlling, enslaving money.

I support the strikers AND I support the city.
At the end of the day we're all in the same boat - and everyone smells the same nasty, rotten smell as everyone else.

Trash is trash.

So let's clean it up and do what we have to do to end this.
No more finger pointing.
Someone is eventually going to have to budge - and when they do - I just hope we aren't worse off than we were before.

Because seriously - then - what is it all worth?
If we stretch this mess out to the summer...only to FINALLY come to that agreement...what was the long wait worth?
An endurance test, to see how long we can suffer?
To see how badly we can screw up a city?

Our value is dropping. So are our values.
No one is at fault...it's just the way it is.

We just need to work on fixing it - instead of doing everything we can to screw it up even more.

I refuse to cross a picket line. I won't do it.
But I look at the growing pile of trash...and I hear things like "neither side is willing to budge on threshold issues" - and I just hope the rotting pile of trash isn't forshadowing of bigger, darker things to come.

I know nothing in the scheme of things.
Basically I just want to ask a question:

This line:
"Windsor residents will feel the full brunt of the city workers’ strike beginning Monday."

Monday - is today.

How does that make you feel?

A Dark Day for Radio in Windsor Detroit

A sad day today.
Not even sure what to say.
When I was a teenager I used to listen to a certain alternative rock radio station. Everyone did. It was THE station to listen to if you were into cool music.
Two of those DJs are gone today.
Another - the smartest host in Windsor Essex...and a friend of mine...she's gone too.
I'm speechless and depressed and sad and shocked.
Reeling.
My head is just spinning in disbelief.
I looked up to these people - they inspired me to get into radio - and to see them gone.
It hurts.

I can't say much - but I have to say something.

It sucks. It's a dark day for radio in Windsor Detroit.

With Age Comes Wussiness.

I was never squeamish. Never. Ever.
I spent my teenage years smack-dab in the middle of the big revolution of ULTRA violence in movies that was spearheaded by Quentin Tarantino.
Pulp Fiction. Reservoir Dogs.
Then the cousin films - Natural Born Killers. True Romance.
Those were my favourites.
The more violent, the more realistic and the more callous the killers, the better.
And I was never a gore maniac...the story had to be decent - it had to be smartly written - but I was fascinated the way a brilliantly compelling story could have these insanely graphic acts of violence written in, with this horrifically funny, witty spin on the whole grotesque scene.
It wasn't shock value...it was just...something else.
Anyway, the last few years - I'm starting to scare myself.
I become nauseated when someone is shot in the head.
Torture scenes do nothing for me.
Random acts of violence followed by a brilliant and quick one-liner used to make me burst out laughing, but now - I catch myself saying things like "That wasn't necessary to show that."
What the hell? I'm only 31 years old.
Last night we were watching Goodfellas - a film I have ALWAYS enjoyed - and in the opening scene, when Joe Pesci's character stabs the shit out of the guy they have stashed in the trunk, I nearly threw up.
Saving Private Ryan was on the night before. You know the opening scene - the mass slaughter of soldiers? I had to look away - eventually I had to change the channel.
I rented Hostel a few nights back - about the torture house in Slovakia - and flat out fast-forwarded through all the torture scenes.
Nasty.
So what the hell happened to me?
Seriously.
I was never squeamish.
I know it's all fake. I know it's just movies.
In fact - I love movies! I've seen THOUSANDS of them.
Why is it all of a sudden - me - the guy whose favourite flick is Natural Born Killers - grossed out by a little movie-magic gore?
And this whole new genre of movies - which make the gangster-bullet ridden movies like Reservoir Dogs and Pulp Fiction seem like Pee Wee's Big Adventure...they freak me out the most.
House of 1000 Corpses. The Devil's Rejects. Saw. Passion of the Christ.
I'm about to sound like a grandpa - but I can't bear to watch them anymore.
Seriously, how am I this big a wimp?
Thing is - I get movie-making. I really do.
If images can instill emotion in someone - they've done their job.
The fact that I can't even bear to WATCH those movies - it's testament to the fact that they are well done.
I used to insist on renting movies like Hellraiser and Texas Chainsaw Massacre and the Hills Have Eyes...but lately...they only turn my stomach.
Don't get me wrong - I still like a good horror movie, but it's because I like a good scare.
Suspense. Things that go bump in the night. Build up tension. A quick jolt.
That freaks me out.
It's not even that I don't appreciate the gore - I just sometimes think it is too heavily relied on. Gore does not equal scary. It equals gross.
If you can fuse gross with a great story...cool.
But I don't know.
Something about it...just recently...I catch myself sounding like Edith Bunker.
"I just don't like the viiiiolence, Aaarchie."
Sure, I'm not 16 years old anymore...but dammit - I'm only 31.
Before I know it - I'll be standing on my front porch in my boxer shorts, shaking a broom at the high school students shouting: "You little bastards get offa my lawwwn!"

Off to rent Annie.

Dan.

BIGGEST LOSER: THE FINAL WEEK

Well, I weighed in today.
I lost weight.
About 2 ounces, but - I lost.
And - I have (once again) cracked into the 170s.
Barely.
179-point-8.
I mean, geesh.
Lisa, our group moderator - gave me a pep talk and it actually pumped me up.
She said: Dan...here's what you're going to do.
You're going to have 5 small meals a day.
You're going to move more and be active every possible second.
You're going to drink plenty of water.
You're going to lose weight this last week.
Originally - I set my goal for this entire contest somewhere between 170 - 175.
I have four point 8 pounds to go to make that goal.
I can do that.
I'm not going to win this contest - I won't even place - but - i have 1 week to lose 4 pounds.
That - CAN be done.
It will be done.

Congratulations to a certain radio personality by the name of Melanie who has absolutely ROCKED this week by losing another frickin' 6 pounds!!!

Absolutely insane. What a contest! Seeing everyone improve their lifestyle, eating, excercising - and - just TALKING about their weight, their health...it's awesome.

This contest couldn't have gone any better. I could have tried a bit harder, sure, but honestly - with the amount of knowlege I'm walking away with...I feel like I've won!

One more week to go - and Monday, April 20th is the FINAL weigh in.
I plan to weigh 175 pounds.

Pouring another glass of water...

Dan

A Book That Changed Your Life?

I don't read enough, but that being said - I am extremely picky when it comes to picking out books.
I always judge a book by its cover. I don't apply this practice to my every day life - but when it comes to books, I have to admit - a flashy cover will catch my eye.
That's the first step - getting the book in my hands.
I read the synopsis. If it sounds good, I open to the first page and read it.
If I feel compelled to turn the page and keep reading, I buy it.
I also often ditch books in the middle if they bore me, which is horrible, but true.
But, why waste time on something you don't enjoy, right?
If you ENJOY wasting time - then it's not time wasted.
But, unless a book keeps me on the edge of my seat, I drop it like its hot.
That being said - the books I love - I love passionately.
Back when I was 17, I worked at a 24 hour video store. Jumbo Video!
A coworker of mine had a book sitting on the shelf and the title intrigued me:
Still Life With Woodpecker, by Tom Robbins.
He said I could borrow it - so I did.
And it changed my life.
It transformed my entire philosophy on ...pretty much everything.
Even today - to this day - this second, I keep a copy of this book at arm's reach near the computer and if I ever feel weird or hesitant or confused or frustrated or just flat out bored - I grab it and flip it open and read a chapter and it just re-charges my batteries.
Before I ask you what book changed YOUR life, mind if I share my favourite passage from the book?
It's about a pretty huge subject: The mystery of love.
Let's face it - it rules our world, more or less.
Motivates us. Compels us. Crushes us. Keeps us going, literally keeps our hearts beating and pumping - gives us some colour.
It tells us we're alive ...and on the flip side - can make us feel like we are dead.
I do think that love is as important as food and water and air to live...it's the most basic human emotion, yet for so many - the hardest one to show. Man, we're weird folks.
So...if you don't mind - a passage from Tom Robbins Still Life With Woodpecker.

"When the mystery of the connecion goes, love goes. It's that simple. Maybe, perhaps, it isn't love that is so important to us, but the mystery itself. When it comes to perpetuating it, however, I got no advice. But I can and will remind you of two of the most important facts I know: 1 - Everything is a part of it. 2 - It's never too late to have a happy childhood."

That's the passage. My favourite one...I read it often.
"Everything is a part of it" - that blows my mind. So simple and so true.
I fall victim to being self-centered sometimes - and I think it's important to be reminded that we are all - no matter what or who or where we come from - in the EXACT same boat.
One life. Same planet. And right here and right now has never, ever EVER been done before.
That thought in itself - is so exciting and exhilarating and insane.
No one knows what's going to happen next. Not even the smartest person in the world.
We all have this common thread in common. A bunch of wandering strangers who really have no idea how connected to each other we really are. Or, maybe we do.
And the bit about it never being too late to have a happy childhood? That can be applied to anything.
You had a bad day? You have an infinity of chances to have a good one - right now. This second.
It's never too late. Things that happen out of our control...they happen.
But more importantly: they HAVE happened.
They are over. There may be more shit brimming on the horizon - but it NEVER has to be the way it was before. History repeats itself because we fail to learn from our mistakes.
Take the bad from yesterday and bank it as a learning experience to know what NOT to do when it happens again.
But what do I know, truthfully? Nothing. Not a single thing. That's the beauty of it. We're all absolutely clueless. It's a big, gigantic mystery.
I was so moved by this passage in the book, the second I finished reading it - I flipped to page one and read the entire novel a second time.

Anyone else have a book that changed their life? I'm in need of some reading material..

That Song is SOOO Gay.

Music is just like us.
When I say "us", I mean humans.
Different shapes and sizes and types and styles and ethnicities and languages and beliefs and stories and components all braided together to form a mighty DNA strand which make up and create a song.
This of course means songs also have sexualities.
There are Heterosexual songs.
For example - "A Boy Named Sue" by Johnny Cash.
There are Bisexual songs.
Like...oh, I don't know - "Rebel Rebel" by David Bowie.
There are Asexual songs...which are about as sexual as a pair of saggy wet granny panties. (Jann Arden, anyone?)
And yes...there are Gay songs.
I don't necessarily mean songs that are specifically ABOUT gay issues - for example, "Hideaway" by Erasure.
I mean - yes - "Hideaway" is indeed a gay song...but that's kind of obvious.
It's like pointing out the guy at the party with the Britney T-shirt, plucked eyebrows who's clutching a cosmo, surrounded by a gaggle of giggling girls.
"I think that guy might be gay!"
No shit, Sherlock Homo.
I mean, that's a given.
No - I'm talking about the OTHER songs...even moreso, the people who MAKE the songs.
The musicians - most of whom are straight - who, for some reason or another are famous with the gay folk.
Cher. Madonna. Tori Amos.
Gay, gay and gay.
Why? Let's explore.
Is it because they are fabulous, powerful women and gay folk understand their struggle in the male-dominated world of the music business and admire them and their ability to overcome?
Perhaps...but I think it's something deeper than that.
I mean Buffy Saint Marie, Avril Lavigne and Nana Mouskouri are all successful females...and well...gays know better.
Could it be the insane sense of fashion every hetero gay icon seems to hold?
Perhaps.
But - if that's the case - then why aren't bands like Aerosmith or The Who adored and worshipped by gays? Have you seen the way those fellas dress?
Dude looks like a lady, indeed.
Nah...some music - like it or not - is just branded with a big ole Pink Triangle.
Carpenters: Gay.
Celine Dion: Gay.
Diana Ross: Gay.
Barbara Streisand: Gay.
Donna Summer: Gay.
Gloria Gaynor...well...talk about an appropriate name.
Gayer than a raised pinky finger at tea-time.
Hell - she's gayer than Tiny Tim - who, I believe was actually heterosexual.
Figure THAT one.
All of those above mentioned musicians have GIGANTIC gay followings and all of them are heterosexual.
None of their songs are really even ABOUT gay issues...yet I guarantee - if you check out ANY of the above performers in concert you'll be shaking your head in astonished disbelief, muttering "I don't think we're in Kansas anymore," under your breath before the usher even tears your ticket.
Why is that? How do they keep the gays (who supposedly have a short attention span) so captivated, so loyal (they supposedly have issues with THAT too!) year after year, after year?
I. Don't. Know.
Do you?
Then there are the bands who so desperately WANT to be "gay".
For example - Esthero.
It's kind of adorable how she went from "wannabe-Bjork" to "wannabe-worshipped-by-the-gays"...
Shit - she just pulled off the biggest career makeover since George Michael got busted in the public toilet.
Aww Esthero...all her gay friends need to hold her, pet her hair, do her make up, comfort her!!
And maybe whisper softly: "Honey...we love you...but it's not gonna happen."
Cyndi Lauper, she shall never be.
The poor dear.
Katy Perry. She's the biggest lesbian-wannabe since T.A.T.U. - remember them?
The hot Russian duo who became famous for their soaking wet girl-on-girl action in the video for "All the Things She Said"?
Turns out - not even lesbians.
"Pfffft, to that!" says the gay.
Then - there are the bands who flat-out ARE gay - literally - with gay lead singers and members - many of who even FLAUNT it - shamelessly (can you imagine?!?!)...but for whatever reason - they are NOT labelled as a gay band, and are infact embraced by the heterosexuals.
REM.
Queen.
Bloc Party.
The Hidden Cameras.
Judas Priest.
The Smiths...(wait..is he...or isn't he?)
I rest my case.
All of them gay...yet for some reason...not gay bands.
Now, I don't mean to be judgemental or re-inforce ridiculous and stupid stereotypes...but the thing about stereotypes: Some of them are true!
I'm not the greatest person to gage this - as I like every single kind of music - but so help me god, as a young boy, coming of age - there I was - magnetically drawn to Madonna...almost as if hypnotized by her pointy cone bras (designed by Jean-Paul Gaultier - also gay!).
Why?
I have NO idea. But it was like something in my DNA told me to run - not walk - to the nearest record store and pick up a copy of Like a Prayer.
I remember, when I was six years old - I asked for a bunch of records for Christmas -and Santa brought them all.
Michael Jackson - Thriller (standard for any kid in 1983), Culture Club - Colour by Numbers (quelle surprise) and Eurythmics - Savage.
Bingo! Annie Lennox - another one.
I mean, how did I know?
It was like it was just...instilled in every fibre of my being.
Nurture my ass.
Just like musical taste, just like right-handed or left, just like whether or not you can touch your tongue to your nose - some stuff is just included in the package at birth.
I couldn't help myself. By the time I was 12 I had memorized the entire dance routine to Express Yourself (Blonde Ambition version) and knew the complete "rap sequence" in Vogue.
Helpless. Like the Neil Young song. Not really noted for his huge gay following, but hey - who's taking notes anyway?
Wait a minute...I am.
Of course - for every gay band I like, I like just as many straight bands - and it certainly says NOTHING of anyone's orientation if they happen to enjoy the odd Cher song here and there.
But so help me...ladies - if you have a boyfriend - or heaven help you - a HUSBAND whose top five favourite bands include (in no particular order): Madonna, Cher, Barry Manilow, ABBA or (gulp!) Tori (and he will refer to her ONLY by first name)...well...you better pick yourself up a copy of How Stella Got Her Groove Back and READ BETWEEN THE LINES.
So I'll ask you - music fans...all in good fun of course...
Do you believe songs have sexualities - and - like us - have no control over them?
If so...riddle me this:
What makes a gay song...gay?

Hair 'em Scare 'em.

Hair is weird.
I mean really - it's a bunch of dead cells, right?
Hair is dead.
Yet we insist on twisting, braiding, styling, growing, cutting, thinning, perming, bleaching, shampooing, conditioning, dread locking, flat-ironing, gelling, spraying, teasing, dying, brushing, combing, and running our fingers through it - just because we love it so.
It can make or break our day.
It can compliment an outfit or make us look like a slob.
Score us a job or get us kicked out of the house.
Give us amazing amounts of confidence or turn us into mirror-checking, nervous wrecks.
Quite a bit of power for a few strands of dead cells, isn't it?
Ladies and gents, bros and sissies - I'm at a hair-cross roads.
I've been growing my hair for a while, and the time has come to give 'er the ole snip-a-snippa.
I want something drastic.
But first...questions:
To colour...or not to colour?
To razor cut...or not to razor cut?
Thinning shears or electric clippers?
Spikey...or wavey?
Clean cut...or punk rock?
Gel-crazy...or au naturale?
I know, I know...why the bother. It's just a whack of dead cells.
Regardless...I'm realizing with longer hair, the gigantic, messy whack and tangle on top of my had is showing more versatility than I originally expected.
Sure I intend to hack it all off shortly - but I figured, no better time than now to toy with some of the new looks this very full head of hair allows me...
...wanna see a few?

I call this one - "Rebellious Teen Angst Chic":



And this one "Jaggermiester"...



And this one - "Wannabe Gangsta"...



One of my personal favourites..."Danny Rotten"...



Never afraid to explore my feminine side, I call this one "Little Schoolgirl Lost"...



Oh sure, I know it's vain and silly to snap pictures of oneself in the mirror, with different hairstyles - but screw it! One only lives once, doesn't one?
The idea of growing up and becoming "mature" is fake. It's not real.
One never grows up.
I'm 32 years old and I still have to catch myself sometimes, staring up at the sky saying to myself "I wonder what I'll be when I grow up..."
It's never going to happen. So screw it - why pretend?
When I was younger I used to do all kinds of crazy shit to my hair.
I'd dye it fun colours. Bleach it white. Shave it off. Repeat.
I don't do that now...
Why? Not sure.
Maybe that part of me "grew up", so to speak. Maybe the rebellious and colourful and convention-dodging part of myself gave in and decided it was time to "act my age".
I don't know.
But I have no desire to funkify my hair, as of this moment.
It could return. One never does know, does one?
Hair though, is one of the first things I notice about people, even though I never judge. A person can have tightly sprayed curls, cemented with Aqua Net - or free flowing hippy locks, or perhaps short and conservative or long and greasy and unwashed.
I think the power of hair...is insane.
Hair can be conformist.
Hair can be a protest.
Hair can be peace.
Hair can mean "WAR!"
Hair can mean "emo".
Punk.
Prep.
Me.
You.

Hair.
Mine comes off in a few week's time, but dammit if I'm not going to enjoy it right now - as is.
Even though we can't see it...our hair changes every single day. It gets a little bit longer. A little bit falls out. A little bit grows back.
Really - we never have the same hair twice.
Not once - ever - in our lives will our hair EVER be exactly like it was on a previous day.

The possibilities are absolutely infinite.
How cool is that?

So...I'll leave it to ya'll...any suggestions for me when I face the barber's chair?

Options.

I wouldn't be human if I wasn't a wee bit afraid of what's going on with the economy.
I can admit that: I worry.
Lately, I've been trying to think logically about things. I've been asking myself the question: What would I do if I lost my job today?
Now, I know there's REALLY no such thing as "job stability".
I mean, even when things aren't going to hell in a picnic basket - companies close, downsizing occurs and folks are out the door, wondering how their entire world was just given the ole "shake-a-shake" in just a few mere seconds.
But if it happened to me...what then?
Would I be a waiter? Apply to another radio station? Move to another province? Take the plunge and hit Calgary? Sweep floors on midnights at Wal Mart?
I'm all for telling and reporting the truth. If the economy is going belly up - of COURSE we should report it and talk about it.
This whole "Change the Conversation" thing...I don't get that.
Changing the conversation does not make a situation go away. It might make it a wee bit worse though, as neglect and denial seem to have that effect on things.
I think it's how we deal with it.
The world is not ending.
We just have a situatin. A problem.
And we can deal with it 2 ways.
We can be a stresed out mess - a puddle, angry, denying, crying and psychotic.
Or...
We can take it in stride and keep a clear head.
When the house caught fire - nearly 2 years ago this month - I had a "moment" on my front lawn.
I stood there with Pluto in a box and Wayne right beside me and stared at the smoke billowing out the windows, knowing my things, my stuff, all our CDs, photographs, legal documents, all my writing, all my books, my wallet, my car keys, clothes - every single thing that makes me - me, at least so I thought - were in there.
And I was about to see them all get destroyed.
I felt panic well up in my stomach. Then it hit my chest.
I heaved. And I sucked in the smoke that hung in the air and held it.
I felt tears in my eyes - and I knew I was about to lose it.
I was about to get hysterical.
"This can't be fucking happening!" I wanted to scream, the sirens were deafening, the flashing lights - blinding me, the neighbours in their bathrobes, gawking.
Not my house. This is not supposed to happen.
I felt furious, robbed, completely pissed off.
I wanted my bed. I wanted all of them to go away, for it to just NOT be happening.
I was about to start crying like a baby.
Then I thought about it.
The house will burn regardless of the scene I kick up.
And it hit me that I had an option.
I could be a useless, sobbing, blubbering mess...or I could stay calm and keep a clear head.
Neither would change the situation. Neither would stop the fire...but which one would be easier for me?
I exhaled.
And just like that - it was all going to be "okay".
It would be "okay" if my photographs, wallet, CDs, clothes, books - my lifetime in "things" burned.
Because that's all they were:
Things.
Memories though, that's another story.
Because I knew - Because I KNOW - as long as I am alive and have a working brain - the memories - my life in memories - will never be charred away. I have those. I lived a good life - and my memory bank is huge - and I am still alive.
That is the biggest triumph ever.
Staying alive...
Not dying. Body or spirit.
I don't want to say "Rah Rah Windsor! Be happy!" because I don't know everyone's situation.
But we all get shitty situations. And we don't HAVE to deal with them in negative ways.
We don't.
Oh sure - we have the option.
We have the option to deny it. To cry. To sob. To stress. To be completely and 100 percent defeated and destroyed.
We can go that route.
Or - we can say: "Okay...what is next?"
It might not be the same - or as comfy as it was before...but - it might be better than we ever dreamed it could be.
Going into it a hysterical mess: It will be far, far worse than we've ever imagined.
We need a clear head so we can think.
Calmly.
We need to check ourselves: That we are still in one piece.
That we still have the ones we love standing next to us.
That we are still ALIVE.
That's all that matters. If we can do that - we can do anything.
The red tape is just the bullshit that we pretend we can't get around.
Let's face it: As long as we're alive, we'll find a way.
It's all a choice. How we choose to look at things. How we choose to deal with things.
We always have options.

hearties and artsy fartsy farties,
dan

BIGGEST LOSER - 2 more weeks...

Fourteen more days to go.
And wouldn't you know it - I weigh a well rounded 180 pounds, as of today.
180. I can't shake it.
Of course, there are reasons why I can't shake it.
The good: I walked to work and ate healthy EVERY day last week. EVERY DAY. And I walked home too. That's an hour of walking per day.
But - I blew it on the weekend.
The bad:
Four cocktails on Thursday.
Six beers on Friday.
Six beers on Saturday.
One falaffel sandwich and a pound of hummous on Sunday.
I've been trying to take the negative and see the positive in everything I do. I try to do that all the time.
With this - I am learning things.
Things like "consequences".
Consequences for my actions.
Will power too.
I am not a fan of Doctor Phil...but he did say something once that struck a nerve with me.
"You weigh what you weigh because you WANT to weigh what you weigh."
Now - this doesn't apply to all - in fact, it's a very cold and callous thing to say.
For many, many people - weight gain is a life long struggle and the power is out of their hands.
This is not the case with me.
Do I go to a gym?
No.
But I have a membership. I'm perfectly capable.
Do I eat properly?
Yes. But - I give in very quickly when presented with an ice cold beer.
Do I have to drink beer?
No. But I do because I WANT to. And wanting things...and doing things...brings consequences.
180.
If I for real wanted to lose weight - I could.
I'm lucky. I have decent will power. But, I'm lazy.
I am.
And that is something I realized as well.
My body - for whatever reason - enjoys being 180 pounds.
I don't enjoy it - but - I'm not exactly being super pro-active in doing anything about it.
I dropped about 11 pounds total.
My goal is still 172. That hasn't changed.
A certain radio personality dropped 9 pounds this week and he's pretty much won the competition.
I'd have to amputate a few limbs to lose that kind of weight. Hell - 9 pounds in one week - that's almost as much as I've lost this entire contest.
Pathetic, I know. But it's me.
And that is something else I've come to realize this contest:
Self-acceptance.
I can lose when I want.
I dropped over 10 pounds.
This weight...for whatever reason...is what I weigh.
It's my body.
I don't live an excessive life...but I enjoy myself.
I'm a healthy vegetarian/vegan who takes his vitamins.

I can drop the last 7 pounds. And I will.

I will, when I really want to.

Fuck you Doctor Phil. I hate when you're right.

Dan