In Need of Medical Attention

I was walking along Bloor West last night and noticed an older man ranting on the sidewalk a few metres ahead of me.

The plan was to do what I always do whenever I come across this sort of obstacle; walk past them while ignoring them outright. If Crazy Guy addresses me in any way (whether it's to say hello or to say something creepy and/or misogynistic), I nod cheerfully and pick up the pace.

When I got closer to the man, however, I realized he wasn't crazy. He was just drunk and really angry. And rightfully so! The guy had a huge gash on his forehead, and was dripping blood all over the pavement. Either he had fallen or someone had clocked him in the head with a bottle or something. He looked pretty damaged.

No one was doing anything. No one even seemed particularly concerned.

I side-stepped Massive Headwound Harry and walked about half a block away from the scene while dialing 911 on my cellphone. I told the nice dispatcher man about the poor drunken mess. Harry was conscious and breathing (obviously), but he was far from lucid, and I was worried he might pass out or maybe even hurt someone. I kept an eye on him, but I lost him a minute or two before I saw the ambulance arrive.

Fast forward to later in the night. I am walking along Clinton St. and am soused (after a pathetic 2.5 beers, I think. Surgery seriously put a dent in my already low alcohol tolerance). Drunk to the point where I am talking to myself and spitting a little and saying all kinds of swears. Suddenly, I hear breaking glass to my immediate left. This is not the sound of a rock or bottle being thrown through a window. This is the sound of someone smashing glass repeatedly. This is the sound of breaking and entering.

What did I do? Did I call 911?

No way, Jose. I motherfucking RAN.

I ran three blocks in my new hurty boots on icy sidewalks while drunk off my ass.

I did not look back. I did not even think to remember the house number.

My sincere apologies to the homeowners on Clinton Street, but one 911 call per night more than meets my quota.

(Now playing: "(She Said) You're Such a Stupid Idiot", Local Rabbits)

Search and Destroy

People sometimes look up really disturbing things on various search engines and get to my blog. Lately, the searches have been more insane than usual. I'm not sure what's worse: the fact that people are actually looking for this shit, or the fact that they've found my blog in the process.

At any rate, I can't keep these to myself.

Recipient of the "Creepy As All Hell, But It Kinda Makes Sense Since It Is Some Dude From Alberta" Award

Alberta, Edmonton, Canada, 0 returning visits
Date Time WebPage
19th November 2005 05:53:18 thebeesknees.blogspot.com/
www.ask.com/web?q=how to have sex with my sister

Recipient of the "Future Darwin Award Winner" Award

Florida, Miami, United States, 0 returning visits
Date Time WebPage
22nd November 2005 13:44:32 thebeesknees.blogspot.com/2004/05/anaphylaxis.html
www.ask.com/web?q=if you're allergic to peanuts can you use peanut oil

Recipient of the "Aaarrrrghhhh! How Can That Even Be?!" Award

Kansas, Shawnee Mission, United States, 0 returning visits
Date Time WebPage
8th November 2005 15:41:42 cc.msnscache.com/cache.aspx?q=2567735411484&lang=en-US&FORM=CVRE2
search.msn.com/results.aspx?q=my child used my vibrator

(Now playing: "Mustang", Link Wray and his Wraymen)

From The Back of the Film

If you live in Toronto, you should go see The Life And Hard Times of Guy Terrifico as soon as possible.



Mr. Matt Murphy is a national treasure.

(Now playing: "Too Delightful", The Flashing Lights)

You Spin Me Right Round, Baby

I have a question for all of the record geeks out there.

When I was 16 or so, I won a prize package from a local radio station. It consisted of a Moist t-shirt (which thrilled me at the time), a few CDs, and a Hype! boxed set, compiled by Sub Pop records.

This is what the boxed set looks like:



There were four 45s inside.

I didn't pay much attention to the records at the time, since we didn't have a functional record player (and I didn't even know what a spindle was until I had my radio show at CFRC, so I'd never before played a 45).

I re-discovered that boxed set not that long ago.

And oh. my. fucking. GOD.

So...four 45s. I had forgotten that they were made of coloured marbled vinyl. They look a bit like this, but with a yellow Sub Pop label in the middle of each.



Would you like to know what's on these gorgeous, never-before-played marbled Sub Pop records? Well, then. Let tell you! Bands like Mudhoney, Soundgarden, Young Fresh Fellows and...wait for it...Nirvana.

That's right. I own a virginal 7 inch copy of Nirvana's "Negative Creep" and Mudhoney doing a live version of "Touch Me I'm Sick".

I touch them and I shake.

Should I sell them (they are rather valuable - the set would sell for over $200, most likely)? Play them? Or continue to keep them in my room and look at them with great wonder and awe every once in a while?

Your comments are desired.

(Now playing: "The Real World", The Bangles)

Nouvelle Vague

Haven't laughed that hard in months.

Haven't gotten tanked in the middle of the afternoon in years.

Haven't subsequently crashed a psychology conference in a hoity-toity hotel in...ever!

(Thank you, mister.)

(Now playing: "New Wave", Sekiden)

Thanks For The Mammaries

Okay. Okay okay okay.

This will be my final blogpost about my breast reduction. I promise.

Lots of people who go through the same procedure as I did tend to post before and after photographs of their bare breasts on their blogs, etc. I will not be doing this. I am the product of a fairly strict eastern European upbringing and as a result, I am ashamed of most things. (If you would like to see my bare breasts, the drill is the same; buy me dinner and/or many drinks first.) However, I do want to share my transformation with you. Might I present before and after photographs of my clothed breasts for your procrastinating-at-work enjoyment?

BEFORE


Sofi & The F Cups. Winter 2005. Note Sian and Jenny looking bored and detached while I radiate shiny (and vaguely creepy) happiness at photographer Kelly Ongaro.


AFTER


Sofi & The C Cups. Fall 2005. Thanks to Miss Alli Scully for taking this shot!

So there you have it. I've kept you abreast of the situation, but I don't want to overstay my welcome and seem a boob. Oh ho ho!

(Now playing: "Like A Phoenix", The Smoking Trees)

"An Endurance Test Of Extreme Irony"

From: Matt Blair
To: Sofi Papamarko
Date: Oct 21, 2005 8:32 PM
Subject: DJ a Red Cross Benefit? Just Ace of Spades @ The Boat - Wed 9 Nov 2005

Sofi,

What’s happening? I’m writing to invite you to spin at a Red Cross Benefit that Indiepolitik and the Boat are hosting on Wednesday, 9 November 2005. It’s a night called Just Ace of Spades, and if you’d like to be a part of it, we’d love to have you. The catch is that the only song you can play is Motörhead’s “Ace of Spades” over and over again...

From: Sofi Papamarko
To: Matt Blair
Date: Oct 21, 2005 8:49 PM
Subject: Re: DJ a Red Cross Benefit? Just Ace of Spades @ The Boat - Wed 9 Nov 2005

Dear Matt,

Are you serious?

Love,

-Sofi

*****

Matt assured me that he was, in fact, serious. Six hours of "Ace of Spades". Over and over and over. And over and over. And over.

It's brilliant, if you think about it. Some people fast for 24 hours to raise money. Others push their bodies to the limit by running miles and miles after collecting pledges. How can the lazy and out-of-shape indie community get in on the philanthropic action with minimal physical effort? Why, by enduring hours of searing heavy metal, natch!

I'm unable to DJ that night, but Matt's got a really awesome group of local DJs lined up, including the legendary DJ Davy Love, Fake Prom organizer Dylan Reibling and Wavelength's Ryan McLaren.

Anyway, you should go, for it will be wacky. Click here for all the details. If you can't make it, email Matt (or even myself) to donate.

(Now playing: NOT Motörhead. At all.)

November Spawned a Monster

At Seth's urging, I've decided to do something that I've wanted to do for years. I am participating in National Novel Writing Month...or NaNoWriMo.

This means that I will be spending many a non-work waking hour pounding away on a keyboard, trying to create something that is not completely crappy (but probably is).

So...I apologize if I am neglecting to call you back/email you back/MSN you back. It's not that I don't like you. It's just that I'm writing a historical romance novel (I've never actually read one) and am using phrases like "burnished copper tresses" and "pulling his kirtle up, he thrust himself into her, again and again".


I am not even kidding you.



(Now playing: "The Other Sidewalk", The Superfine Dandelion)