Life Sucks But Don't Give a Fuck

Once in a while there comes a website that really tickles your fancy and keeps you chained to your computer chair, continually refreshing the homepage. See, websites are like gorgeous men. You first stumble upon them and can’t get enough (until another website steals you away, of course). You gush to all your friends about it and (SEXUAL INNEUNDO ALERT!) sometimes you spend your entire Friday night on it.

My current lover is www.fmylife.com – a rip off of www.viedemerde.fr - either way, a great way to pass the time. It’s an electronic haven where in a sentence or two, users reveal their most embarrassing moments. It’s rehab for the clumsy and unlucky.

I find the most laugh out loud material involves love and/or sex. Such as:

"Today, my mom walked in on me looking at a 1978 playboy. She asked if I found it in the basement. I said yes. Then I realized she was the centerfold. FML"

"Today, my boyfriend broke up with me. I cried and told him that I loved him. He gave me a quarter and told me to call someone who cared. I threw the quarter in his face and ran. I waited for the bus, but when I got on, I realized I was 25cents short of the fare. I walked home in the rain. FML"

“Today, I finally got the chance to hook up with the girl I really like. She was naked, and as she was taking my pants off, she looked at my penis and said, ‘oh, I just remembered I have to babysit my little sister today.’ FML”

Now, most people argue laughing at other people’s misfortunes makes you an asshole. I suppose it does. I suppose I’m a huge asshole then. However, I’m actually applauding these people for their [anonymous] bravery more than I am laughing hysterically at them.

We shouldn’t deny the fact that we just love horror stories more than fairytale endings. It doesn’t make us bad people. It helps us grow thicker skin and gives us the metaphoric balls to admit to our own horror stories on a public domain.

I don’t believe a person to be truthful when claiming they can make it through 24 hours without something remotely awkward happening to them. Take a look at me for example; the poster girl for embarrassing moments. Within 5 hours of being in the college environment today, two embarrassing things happened. Too bad FML doesn’t come with cash rewards. I could really use the money for next year’s tuition.

Embarrassment is human nature. How many times have you heard the phrase “nobody is perfect”? Too many times to count, right? Even Fidel Castro fucks up sometimes by tripping and sliding into a bunch of chairs after a press conference. Joaquin Phoenix is even creating a username for FML this very moment. Ah look, he just posted!

“Today I was on set for a movie about a blind caveman. I took a bunch of drugs and drank a lot of God knows what before I went on Lettermen to tell him I’m a rap super star. He told me to never come back. FML”

Over all, the ability to read about other people’s confessions on sites like FML, Post Secret or Group Hug gives us clumsy idiots great comfort and suddenly we don’t feel so alone and horrible for our own clownish actions. Once we hit the “post” button, we can let out a sigh of relief as a bit of weight is lifted from our shoulders. We can finally buck up, move forward and laugh. Whether we're doing it with each other or at each other...who really gives a fuck?

Good Nachos, Good Music, Good Night

This past Friday the 13th at Sneaky Dee’s, the unsigned and undeniably ambitious Reverse Mount Rushmore warmed up a full house in honour of The Isosceles Project’s CD release.

Due to mutual friends, I have had the pleasure of knowing 3/4 of the band for a number of years now. I guess you can say as a wallflower, I sat back and watched them grow as musicians.

With such devotion to their instruments, the foursome definitely made the crowd aware they are not your typical rock band. Their laid-back personalities shift once all instruments are plugged in, ready to go. They are never shy to make bold riffs and experiment with sound. Brent Fagan’s vocals are classic and rarely gets overshadowed by heavy chords. Whether playing at a bar or in a grungy basement, watching these men jam never gets boring.

I will admit, this has been quite the pleasant departure from Mike Mikocic’s former band The Harold Wartooth. Although they had a great, loyal fan base for many years, Reverse Mount Rushmore seem much more unified.

Danny Lindsay, also of The Big City Nights, adds a great touch to the ensemble with his passionate talent for all instruments and raw vocals on songs including Bus Orgasm.

Reverse Mount Rushmore are not a band soley formed to be pretentious or intimidating. Sure, their fine musicality can make anyone who’s ever picked up an instrument a little jealous. With great timing, they play like no one’s business, until every sweat bead falls from their forehead and onto the floor. This band, like every other up and coming band, willingly leaves a lot of room to grow and master their craft. I believe this band is here to stay and satisfy all stoners with their rock anthems. Take my word for it when I say that every show from here on in, will only get better.


(all photos courtesy of Jeff Karpala)

Unicorns and Jello and Beards, Oh My!

Unless you’ve been living under a rock (in which case, feel free to crash in my basement instead - it’s furnished!), everyone knows how intense the American election has been. Obamarama kick-started all our hearts. Who isn’t smitten by the charming Mr. O?

The day after the notable inauguration, I woke up at 6 a.m. (I’m a vampire actually, I never wake up to sunlight) and trekked my way to class. I got the opportunity to venture off into the wilderness that is Humber college to survey an ample amount of youth about the American election.

I realized for some time now that us Canucks find American politics more interesting than the ones of our homeland. I never knew the extent of our boredom with our country’s politics until the survey was conducted. It showed that over 75% pay more attention to the shenanigans south of the border.

So, like Obama, I want to make a change - in our home and native land. To all party leaders, I propose a bunch of ideas that I expect to be followed in upcoming years, to intruige and entertain Canadians about poli-shticks.

Let’s have some fun, shall we?

First off, make like a hockey team and grow a beard throughout the entire play-offs that you call an election. Don’t you even dare shave until it’s all over (unless of course, you don’t want to win). Men with beards are sexy; everyone knows it. Jack Layton is already a baby step ahead of the pack with his luscious moustache. John Doyle of The Globe and Mail will retire from referring to Stephen (Mr. Harper if youu're nasty) as "hair-in-the-fridge", and settle for "beard-in-the-fridge". Beards automatically make anyone wiser and overall badass. Let Hans Langseth of Norway be your muse.


Rename the House of Commons to House of Jell-O Pudding. All MPs are invited to wrestle amongst eachother rather than having a sit down snoozefest. This would totally boost CPAC ratings...

If you run out of Jell-O pudding but still want high ratings, produce a reality show entitled Canada’s Next Top Minister. Have a hot but aging, washed up model as the host. I recommend Linda Evangalista. Each week, leaders will compete in campaigns and photoshoots and Linda will complain “you’re not smiling with your eyes!” and “Ignatieff, you’ve gotta be more fierce with your runway walk!” We all love reality television, whether we admit it or not, because who ever passes up an opportunity to laugh at someone else’s embarrassing misfortune?

It was neat that hippie-go-lucky Elizabeth May campaigned all over Canada on a bicycle. But I know just the thing to really spice things up. Forget the private jet, forget the coach bus. This time, travel via horse. Or if it’s within the budget, a unicorn. Children will love you and think you’re way cooler than Santa Claus, and no tacky, fleecy red suit is involved. But remember...you will be rocking one badass beard!


Four years later when the whole thing has fizzled out, when your wife divorced you and Madonna dumped you for a 22 year old Brazilian model, publicly admit to using steroids all throughout the election. It’s all the rage now, haven’t you noticed?

On behalf of all Canadians (and Star Wars nerds), may the force be with you.

How To Really Pick Up Women

(taken from my 'zine, Fierce, volume 1)

Gentlemen, it’s time for you to put down that sleazy porno mag and pay attention. I am on my last nerve when it comes to how men think they can score a date with a woman. This outrage has grown bigger than ever since a certain reality show came into production. It’s a cable network show called The Pick-Up Artist. Nerdy, socially awkward, below average looking men*, with the help of their Ladies Man guru, attempt to pick up girls at bars by getting them drunk enough to say “when and where?”. This, in short, means that to get a girl to say yes you have to slip her a roofie first. it's saddening to see on the ol’ tube. I'm frightened at the thought of this being so normalized and acceptable in real life. It’s time for boys – yes, little boys, not men - to disrobe from their Tough Guise and learn a thing or two about chivalry and respect.

1. When we’re trying t cross the damn street, don’t whistle as us. We’re not a dog you’re calling to come and fetch a fucking tennis ball. By whistling at us in public we feel inappropriately judged based on our looks. If you do in fact happen to like the way I walk or what I am wearing, just say so nicely. “Hey, I couldn’t help but notice, I really like your style,” is an acceptable compliment. “Hey sexy thing! Where ya going to hot mama?” is not. I am a human being, not an object.

2. When you do spot us at a bar and we’re alone or with a friend or two, we don’t mind a little chit chat but when you’re piss drunk and the smell of tequila is becoming a problem, maybe you should take a hint and talk to us when you’re sober. The reason I know a lot of women feel this way is because when a guy acts overly friendly, saying nice things we don’t usually hear, we go ahead and assume you say such things due to your heavy intoxication.

3. When you’re on a date, we don’t want to constantly hear about how much money you make or how nice and expensive your condo is. It’s great you're a successful individual but if you’re a cocky one at that, don’t be so eager for a second date. Personally, I want to become acquainted with someone’s soul not their bank account.

4. For the love of God, look at our eyes and not at our breasts! (unless we give you permission, that is).

* I happen to find nerdy, socially awkward, so-called average men to be really sexy.

A Cool Band To Top Off Winter City

Day nine of the two week long WinterCity Festival sponsored by RBC drew a massive crowd of all ages, all bundled up to celebrate Toronto - ugly weather and all - at Nathan Philips Square.

Saturday, February 7, marked the day acclaimed French-Canadian band The Stills would take the stage. They would be the last band to make an appearance for this year’s WinterCity Festival.

According to the city of Toronto, 2009 marks the 23th birthday of the festival which was originally called North York Winter Carnival. It’s a wonderful celebration of culture, cuisine and crafts which over half a million people attended last year.


The good news to those students strapped for cash, is that the festival is free. Skating, however, will cost a humbling nine dollars for a two hour session. Watch out for the little kids and try not to fall on your butt. Falling in public; it’s so embarrassing, isn’t it? After that, why not grab a cup of hot chocolate for only 2 dollars? Another booth was set up selling cute animal hats and mittens for ten dollars a pop. You got to love a bargain!

Although the weather was at a surprising high of six degrees Celsius, there were six fire pits throughout Nathan Philips Square for those who needed to keep their hands nice and toasty. There was also an indoor warming station located in front of City Hall. Inside, people can meet an Olympic athlete and take a photo holding the Olympic torch. The neat thing about it was the free opportunity to view and download the photo at www.rbccarrythetorchpics.com.

Before the sun went down, Dutch group Close-Act first set called White Wings made quite the impression as they walked and danced all over the Square on stilts. Their wardrobe was just as creative and outlandish as their movement. Picture the Tin Man meets Ziggy Stardust, just nine feet taller and with wings. Two members were banging steel drums as three others charmed the crowd on stilts.

Close-Act’s other set, Pi-Leau, was a more gothic version of Cirque du Soleil. The heavy amount of coloured smoke and lights may have been an eyesore for some, but the enchanted group aimed to please as they sang on spinning domes that were 15 feet tall.

Close-Act may have come from a far away land but they showed their appreciation by thanking Toronto all throughout their set. “It’s great to be here!” they kept shouting in the most delightful accent.

Taking things to a whole new level were Neu Jenurashun. The eight member reggae band definitely turned up the heat with their hot beats and PG gyrations. They had the crowd singing along to their rendition of that classic song For the Love of Money which most refer to it as the theme to The Apprentice.

Without a doubt, the musical group that most youngsters anticipated were The Stills. After finishing a tour with Sam Roberts, the Juno nominated group graced the stage at 8 p.m. and began to belt out their recent hits. They raised their instruments up in the air with pride throughout their hour long set. Like Close-Act, The Still were not shy about praising the city.

“We’re glad to be gathered here on this beautiful night. We have to make this a good one!” said lead singer Tim Fletcher.

Toque covered heads were bobbing to songs like Snow in Californiaand Snake-Charming the Masses which Fletcher said “goes out to Harper’s budget cuts”.

Towards the end of the set, they dedicated their most popular song, Lola Stars and Stripes, to “all the bankers out there...BMO!” Fletcher said, as he pointed to the brightly lit skyscraper right across the stage.

The crowd then continued to swoon until the reverb faded out. A cool night indeed.