2009: new year resolution

no more SNOOZE button

The snooze button symbolizes uncertainty. Should I get out of bed and start my day, or should I sleep 5 more minutes? Using the snooze button when waking up, starts your day with passive behaviour and half assing it. I am taking the bull by the horns in 2009. No snooze button. Either I get out of bed or I don't.

Highlights of 2008

Chronolgical order from beginning of 2008 to end

January
- Shot Captain Coulier from Jan. 5-10 2008.

- Pitched Greenwillow, tv series idea, to an entertainment lawyer, who loves it and immediately gets us a meeting with CBC. Lawyer becomes, and still is, my lawyer.

- Finally get a job @ a prestigious tennis club in Toronto. Argueably the best tennis job I could get in Canada, with great boss and fellow staff.

- Move to the city into a great area and a beautiful townhouse.

February
- Nail a pitch meeting with CBC securing a development deal on 'Greenwillow' sitcom. Meet with head producer and creator of 'Billable Hours' to help us write Greenwillow. He agrees.

- Meet a girl (won't name names) and had a very romantic encounter. The most serious relationship of the year. Was on and off for 5 months, but wasn't meant to be.

-Visited Las Vegas first time.

March
-nothing but writing and partying

April
-writing, editing, partying...

May
-BravoFact submission for short concept film 'Shirtgun Guy' script is approved for a maximum grant.

-Screen 'Captain Coulier' to a very welcoming audience at Ryerson. Film chosen for the student spotlight.

-Visit London England and have an amazing time with Slyblogger and the likes.

-Greenwillow picks up Kevin Tierney(Bon Cop Bad Cop) as producer. The wisdom from him was huge for me. CBC fires our writing partner who basically helped us get the deal. (fishy)

June
-Meeting with head of programming at CTV/Space regarding Captain Coulier the TV show. They commit to it in the meeting. Development deal inked.

July
-Become friends with Temple Street Productions, who want to produce Coulier if it goes through. Biggest producers in the country.

-Shoot Greenwillow presentation pilot after CBC fires our head writer, claiming they 'don't like his style'.

August
-Get an agent.

- Greenwillow presentation pilot is rejected by CBC and our contract is bought out.

September
-Shoot Shirtgun Guy. Have the best time of my life on set.

October and November
-Go 6 weeks completely sober. Start a blog.

-Finish pilot script on Captain Coulier, and CTV likes it!

-Graduate from Second City conservatory with a great year end show. Make friendships with some amazing people. And great wisdom again from a solid director.

December
-Captain Coulier gets into Sundance. (highlight of the year)

-Shirtgun Guy completed and accepted by Bravo network. Screening goes great. Submit to major festivals, and awaiting acceptance...

-Off to Mexico for New Year 2008.

Honourable mentionables of the year
mullet hairstyle- have a period with a full on mullet.
French girls. Seemed to meet an absurd amount of girls 'just visiting' Toronto for the night from Montreal.
Kareoke- first time in 2008
yoga - huge phase.
car (spent 4 gs to fix it up)
Tony Pontes. my skit writing friend and great guy to have developed a friendship with. Stealing all his jokes.
Geoff Callaghan. Another great friend, and fellow tourmented artist.


2008 what I learned about myself

I batted 1000 with pitching ideas for movies and television shows to network people. Therefore, if you have an idea, I'll pitch it for you and it will get picked up. Even if it's stupid. I need to hone this skill somehow in 2009.

goals for 2009
-make Coulier the television show and get it on tv.

-make 'passive doc' the newest project. Make it as a Bravo short documentary to be eventually used as a presentation pilot to make it into a featured documentary.

-find an actual girlfriend. I think it is time.

-move to USA by September 2009. New York or LA, or anywhere in California.

-collaborate more with other actors and writers.

Overall letter grades for the year 2008
Work related stuff: A+
Love related stuff: C-
Treating others: B

hanging out with comedians

I spent the majority of 2009 hanging out with comedians. Improvisers, skit comedians, and comedic commerical actors in the Toronto area, many of who are associated with Second City. It was a very fun year, as many of these people are great companions and 'always down for whatever'. Not a lot of sex; with them that is. Sex with others, but not with comedy folk. We often found ourselves hitting kareoke nights or attending skit comedy shows, or just congregating on couches laughing and discussing comedy. I found myself very tired hanging out with these people. Until last week I always blamed my fatigue on the kareoke or lack of sexual prowl I would have when in comedy company. But I realized last week why I was always so tired when hanging out with a concentrated group of funny people. Here is my ephiaphy in script form that my buddy Jay helped me have.

Conor wanders the liqour store. He appears fresh and excited before a night of Christmas joy. He talks into his cell phone.

Conor: Jay, what's up man?

Jay: Conor.

Conor: Jay, yo, I'm going to a party at Sandra Sneaker's house tonight. Are you going to that.

Jay: Didn't know about it. Second City Sandra. As in Sandra and Frank?

Conor: Yeah, they are having a party. It was an open event, you can come for sure. I said I would go. Come check it out with me.

Jay: Ummm..

Conor: Come on man, I haven't seen you in so long.

Jay: Ya, I definetly want to see you man, but, to be honest I don't know if I can handle a comedy party right now. Everyone just standing around trying to be 'smart funny' and like not getting to out of hand because they want to appear smart.

Conor: (realizing and laughing) Yeah, you're right that is how it will be isn't it...?

Jay: yeah, and Sandra is in her mid to late 30's so everyone will just gather in the kitchen and, like, help do the dishes the whole night while making sophisticated ironic remarks. But like not laughing, becuase they are too busy trying to plan what they'll say next.

Conor: (laughing) Jesus, that's to a T exactly how her last party was.

Jay: You know.

Conor: It's true I want to go to a party where some shits gonna go down.

Jay: Sluts, drugs, fights.

Conor: Yeah. Shit I wish I didn't commit to it.

Jay: Well, who knows. Call me late if it sucks, and I'll call you if my plans fall through and we'll meet up late. Kind of like a plutonic booty call.

Conor: (laughs) Fu Sho. Peace brother.

Jay: Peace.

Conor grabs a six of Pab's Blue Ribbon and a Canada Dry Mickey.


I am always tired after these parties because of the mental alertness and energy exorted on trying to be clever and witty. It is less tiring to go out partying with sluts, drugs, and fights, then it is with irony, wit, and puns.

Party mode

I am in holiday mode currently. This means I am taking a break from "Sober Conor". I am cranky, bloated and lazy. I can't even think of any good ideas. Actually, when I think of something I am interested in it for two minutes, but then bored of it instantly. I just want to eat junk food, smoke grass, and watch tv. And get laid of course.

The other day I was in yoga and someone let one rip. I don' know this because of the smell, I know because of the sound. a huge fart, and dead silence. No one did anything, but of course it was assumed that it had to be one of the guys in the class. since Yoga is so female dominated, it is implied that all the bad odours, sounds and intentions are derived from the males. Or at least they can be disguised as such.

I am offically calling Xmas 'Red,White and Green day'!.

I was at a film screening yesterday for SUPER creative little short art films. Everyone there was so creative, or dressed creatively. It is hard to tell the difference between a creative person or someone who dresses well. Needless to say, I looked like a jock at this party. Rather than laughing or clapping the crowd where such that they just mumbled silently after a film. If it was really good you could hear whispery rumbles of "that was smart, creative, smart, smart, smart, creative,rumble rumble,"

INT. FILM FORT - night

Conor hangs around drinking a beer in a fort like studio loft. The walls are covered in bed sheets and pillows, as to resemble a fort. Conor looks at art pieces and short films on monitores. Super extreme hipster art folk strut by giving him cut eye. He approaches a hipster girl.

Conor: Some pretty creative stuff going on here.

Mona: Yeah. It's a wild spot.

Conor: (smiling) I used to build forts when I was a kid, but never this good.

Mona: yeh, I've heard that before.

Conor: Oh, this is your place?

Mona: No, but I screen my stuff here a bunch.

Conor: One of these movies is yours?

Mona: The super 8 doc. On taxadermy.

Conor: Oh, the one that was all like paused, still frams, with the dude talking over it, that was cool to watch. Was that just all photographs and you added the interview over?

Mona: I was going to just do it like a normal interview with the actually footage, but it got all messed up in the transfer. I salvaged all the sound but only a few frames so I had to put it together like that. But I think it was a blessing in disguise, ya know. I felt it was fitting, since taxadermy is about still life. Subconcious ya know.

Conor: Way over my head.

Mona: laughs

Behind Conor a super hipster boy, with moustache and glasses, approaches.

Conor: So, Mona. What is your favorite colour of underwear?

The hipster boy hears this and interupts the conversation.

Hipster: Mona, ready to go?

Mona: Yeah. (to Conor) bye, nice meeting you.

Mona gets up to leave. The hipster and Conor engage in a hardcore stare down.

Conor: Ok, great meeting you.

Conor stands still like a 'stuffed loser'. He stretches his shoulder like a jock.





When people look back at the year 2000-10 and wonder what defines it they will think of pomegrante, because it does.

Red and Green Day

Interior bookstore

Conor looks at calendars. He finds one that has pictures of cats. A book attendant approaches.

Garth: That's a 2009.

Conor: Oh really. I am looking for a 2008, something on sale perhaps.

Garth doesn't get it.

Garth: Umm. We don't sell --

Conor: I'm kidding. Jokes.

Garth: (laughs) oh, cause I was going to say. That's jokes.

Conor: I guess it was my delivery. I need to work on that.

Garth: No it was good, I'm just in Christmas mode. Sell, sell!!

Conor: You mean 'holiday season' mode.

Garth: Right (laughs). Hannukah!!

Conor: Yeah. And Christmas and new years, quanza. Holiday's of all sorts. How old are you Garth, 20?

Garth: 16.

Conor: When I was your age we were allowed to say Christmas.

Garth: yeah eh.

Conor: yep.

Conor puts the calendar back.

Garth: Let me know if you find anything you need help with.

Conor: Word.

Garth walks off.

Party theme of the week

Rollerblade party: everyone wears their Rollerblades. and we play 1993 dance mix.

All guests to wear baggy jeans.

Coming soon

The anti excuse

Just a simple yes or no will do and has always done! If you are backing out of something and provide a lengthy excuse as to why you can't make it, you're lying. Like for example giving a moody list of all the events you're going to do instead of showing up for the event you were invited to. As a tennis coach I get emails the size of my arm explaining why 'so and so' won't make it to my clinic today because (insert Shakespearean silliqoue (can't spell this word and spell check doesn't get me) here)

So here is the anti-excuse- send some one a huge email WHY you're going to show up!!!!!!!!! not some bull reason why 'as much as you want to be there you have (insert Charles Dickens description of event you have to attend)

Dear Party attendants:
Tonight Erin and Nick have their shows!! As much as I want to go, and I really do, my friend Phillip Wearbrother, he's in veterinarian school, is having his annual holiday's party. I told him earlier this year that I might not come if something else came up because he put me on the 'maybe' list. Also he asked me to prepare my holiday soup, and of course I had very little time to prepare it because of the weak perennial season of butternut squash this 2008. Damn, I want so badly to attend both, but of course Phillip Wearbrother would be so heart broken if I didn't come bearing my squash soup and a good amount of mugs. He likes when I hand out my soup in mugs rather than bowls. This gives people the option to sip on the soup, or to use a spoon in the sizely mugs. Sipping from a bowl is weird, but spooning from a cup, not so much, right. So it is with this information that I have to say as much as I want to go to your show tonight...........I am going to come. Fuck squash soup.Conor


I wrote this freestyle( don't think this shit occupies my time because this is how I think)

Captain Coulier's blog :Key party

I just got back from a key party. Actually I got kicked out. I had no clue that key party-goers where so serious about the rules. The rules to a key party, as far as I'm concerned, are simple; Men bring their keys and a date (female). Upon arrival men drop their keys in 'the jar' and as the night unfolds whenever a women wants to leave she grabs a pair of keys. Whomever the key belong to takes the woman home. Therefore, every man comes with a date but doesn't necessarily go home with that date. Tonight, I brought a date (she was a 6), who I really had no interest in sleeping with, so it was no hair off my back either way. The party started fun and, of course, I did a quick count to make sure every one was garanteed a date home. To my disbelief there was an odd number! Panic consumed my body as I imagined going home alone. As the night got deeper and the anticipation grew, I saw many of the sexier women leaving with guys I didn't even know. Was I going to go home empty handed to my empty hand? Not on my watch. Being the detective I am, I noticed a similarity in all the keys that belonged to these geeks; no key chains! My key set had a stress ball key chain. A rather big one. I contemplated whether or not woman interpreted this stress ball as a sexually frustrated stress ball and they didn't choose it because they figured I didn't get any and thus was resorting to a key social to get laid. But remembered that they can't read minds. However, I soon realized my problem. Gravity! The stressball is heavy, and just by gravity the key chain had moved its way to the bottom of the jar as the clock ticked. I was going to go home alone if I didn't move those keys to the top of the jar. I had to move quick and unsespected. I didn't want people to think I was manipulating the keys. After we toasted to life and liberty everyone decided to skinny dip in the pool. This was a perfect opportunity. I snuck inside and fished down into the jar quickly slipping the stress ball off. It was at this instance that the bomb shell Jennifer Malaway and her friend Maria came to grab a set of keys. Jennifer was freshly toweled off and obviously too horny to hang around the party. I quickly removed my hand. I had slipped the key chain off of my keys but didn't have the chance to remove it from the jar. My key-chain-less keys sat on the top of the pile and my stress ball at the bottom. Nevertheless, I perched up by the door like a dog ready for a walk as Jennifer reached her hand into the jar. Low and behold she grabbed my keys! She rattled them to the party. There was a silence through out the party as no one recognized the keys. So as not to look to eager, I glanced over saw the keys and remarked, "Oh those are mine, I guess". Jennifer smiled at me as I grabbed my jacket and opened the front door ready to take her home for some keyless entry. But of course just as we were leaving Jennifer's goofy friend Maria puts her hand in the jar and grabs the stress ball. Again silence fell over the crowd, but this time it landed on me. What was I to do? I acted as if it wasn't mine, and merged my silence with the parties silence, until the host entered the room.
"That's Coulier's stress ball".
At this point it was as if the party morphed into one big silent eyeball and rolled towards me like the bolder in Indiana Jones.
"Ummm...yeah that's mine, I guess it fell off in the jar.". Of course no one believed this.
"Did you bring two sets of keys to a key party Coulier?" She asked me slooowwwlly.
"No"
The party didn't even budge. They just waited for my explanation. Assholes.
"The damn key chain was weighing down my keys, and I was worried that I wasn't going to get picked so I took the key chain off, and was going to take it out of the jar, so that I would only have one set in there, but she came towards me and I got nervous becuase I didn't want to look like I was tampering with the keys, so I left it in. I was going to take it out."
The eye bolder flatted me.
"I would never cheat at a key party! Come on! there's only 23 people here anyway give me a break! "
No sympathy. Jennifer just opened the door for me and pointed to leave. Alone.

I left the party and drove home. I guess I have to be somewhat positive. I did learn a lesson. The next time I go to a key party, I will leave my key chain at home. Mind you this will be a lot easier now considering I forgot it at the party. And I need that stress ball now more than ever.

Facebook 10 notes

1. Pending time: Making someone 'pend' is a form of wielding power on facebook. Control of time is power, and when you have a potential friend in facebook limbo (pending) you own them. It is always good for your confidence to let them pend a little before adding them. Keep them honest, I suppose.
2. Adding friends: If someone adds you rather than you adding them, you have the upper hand. Are you an added or an acceptor?
3. detagging a photo- de-tagging a photo because you don't like the way you look in it, is a way of escaping your past. You can run but you can't hide.
4. Deleting facebook: technological suicide. We have all contemplated it. It's a statement. If you delete facebook, you're saying, I can't focus with this damn thing in my life. Deleting facebook is actually counter intuitive, because you're saying you can't exist at peace with it, so you have to kill yourself(metaphorically).
5. Profile pictures: This is the newest 'ultimate form of self-expression'. You've got one picture to represent you; make it a good one. Common ones: celebrities that the person resembles, glamour shots*, dogs, blue steel, favorite TV character, group pics with bff all drinking.
6. *glamour shot profile pics: These are generally lame. As much as I want to put mine as my profile pic, because I look good in it, I can't. you're basically saying; "Look! I am good looking if you airbrush, photoshop and light me perfectly".
7. Drinking: Facebook reassures us that as a society we have to constantly remind ourselves that we are cool. Cool equals partying. We drink, we hang out with people that are better looking than us, and we take pictures of cool funny things. Our pictures represent who we want to be. for example; having a profile picture of yourself at the playboy mansion could get you laid by a girl who was seen your profile.
8. creeping: Everyone has one or two people that they never talk to who's wall they check weekly. This is creeping. It's OK. If anything it's the healthiest part of facebook because it allows people to see the people they actually want to see.
9. event walls: People insist on writing excuses as to why they cannot make the event on the event wall. This in turn starts a snowball effect of people backing out of the event because they don't want to go if they see that other people aren't going. Never try to organize a respectable event over facebook.
10. Groups: just ignore them rather than decline.

Please confirm that you read this

You didn't confirm my confirmation email so I wasn't sure if we were confirmed or not. You didn't get my email? that's strange my sent box says it went through...I guess from now on we should confirm all emails... but then how would we ever end a string of emails.?

Do you have this problem? Like in this example below.

Dramatisation of a possible text message conversation between two people.

Shelly: Greg do you want to hang out this week? I'm free Friday night after 6.

reply text from Greg: Done.

Friday night comes and they don't hang out because they have made other plans. Who's fault is it? Or can both people claim that although plans were made and agreed upon, an actual confirmation 'string' wasn't sent. Thus, where these plans were made they weren't really made. Sounds confusing, but happens all the time. Here is an example of the same text conversation, but confirmed.

Shelly: Greg do you want to hang out this week? I'm free Friday after 6pm.

Greg: Done.

Shelly: Tty Friday @ 6. Please confirm.

Greg: Cnfmd, ttyl.

Shelly: K

Greg: K

This is a string of emails that have been confirmed so much that both parties have to be available to hang on Friday. Also this is an example of the 'K' Factor. The only way to really end a string of emails and texts!!! So what is it exactly?

K Factor: the final email/text in any string of emails or texts. Texting the letter 'K' is a way of bookending your text message conversation by confirming that it did just happen and that you are done typing. It means 'OK': but also means, confirmed, we're done here, I have to go, fine!, I understand. K factor is completely sufficient because it is simply one letter, thus making it easy for the texter to confirm.

*It is also a way of showing others that you are better than them (in some cases).

Caveat: enjoy using the K factor but beware. In some cases the K factor is passive aggressive behaviour. It can mean " Go away", "I'm too busy to text you", "Okay...?(like the weirded out California version).

BEWARE! At anytime in a text string, if someone drops a "K factor" the conversation is dead. replying to a K factor with a full text or email, starts a whole new string of emails, and thus if not confirmed with the K factor didn't happen. Example

Same conversation from above...

Shelly: K

Greg: K

Shelly: oh yeah bring cheese.

(no reply from Greg)


Greg has a valid excuse not to bring cheese when they hang out.



K FACTOR

Mullet politics: complete dis concern for self-awareness

Everyone knows what side of the fence they are on in regards to the mullet. People can't make up their minds over the littlest things in this world, but everyone knows where they stand on mullets and are quiet happy to discuss. Just bringing up the word mullet can get complete strangers to interact and bond. People are either angry because they thought the mullet was buried; I guess it died around 1990? Or they are passionate about it and accept it.

Now, are we, in the year 2008 supposed to believe that people in the 80's, were not aware of the fact that they had mullets? That they didn't know any better, and weren't evolved enough to realize that the mullet looks bad? This is such year 2000 thinking and it blows. We are in a decade of self awareness. The decade to freak out about how you look, how you're represented and how many friends you have online. The decade of technological conformity and professional lying. A decade where "I would love to hang out more" means "go away". The 1980's was a decade of style, fast times, romantic electro 1st wave, acid wash, Slurpee's, burgers, sun glasses, OP, hyper colour, fluorescent ( I think I even had a fluorescent white hat), excellent adventures, earrings, rolled up sleeves, and Annie Lennox. To me it seems that the questions isn't whether the 1980's were aware of what they were doing. They weren't aware, they were too busy being rad. This is the coolest thing. Complete dis concern for self-awareness.

Mullet synonymous with 'low life' - Everyone has an opinion on the mullet, because everyone thinks they are better than the mullet. First, it is a word that sounds ridiculous, and thus people with no sense of humour that are trying to be funny can always resort to it for a laugh. "Mullet!" Laughs. Also it has been affiliated with some of the grimiest stuff over the years leading to murder by association. However, when people call me "Duran, Duran" I can't help but take this as a compliment.

(I've just bee inspired to write a whole separate blog - how to take insults as compliments)

Self aware. In the year 2008 if you have a moustache or a mullet you have to constantly be pointing at it and smiling so people know you're not being 'serious'.

Male plutonic booty call

Male platonic booty call: When 2 buddies make plans with the intention to compare parties late into the night and then meet up at whoever's party is better.

Women are the best: Daily

There is nothing better than a beautiful woman who is a few inches taller than you. It makes you feel like you have a lot of work to do and that you've got more to discover.

Script developed from overhearing a conversation on racism.

Dillon: Look at this picture (Dillon shows Luke a picture, on facebook, of a white person with his face painted brown in a picture posing on Halloween) so fucking racist.

Luke: I don't necessarily think it's racist man. That guy is an idiot though.

Dillon: Are you kidding, look at his face! You don't think it's racist that this guy sloppily painted his face brown and then went to a party like that?

Luke: Guy's a knob, but, what, because he didn't put pride into his face painting he's a racist?

Dillon: Are you kidding? He looks like Mr. Hanky from South park.

Luke: It's all dependant of how you portray yourself when you're dressed like that. Knowing that guy he probably was seen as an idiot, but some people could pull it off and not be seen as racist.

Dillon: I don't know about that. If Will Ferrell dressed like that on Saturday night live he'd destroy his career.

Luke: Maybe. Maybe not, depends on how he does it. He'd probably be hilarious.

Dillon: No way. Bottom line is this guy would get his ass kicked if a black guy saw him like that.

Luke: you're being racist right now suggesting that black people would react violently.

Dillon: what? Any race would be offended. He's painted brown! and wearing a piece of shit Afro wig! I'm offended!

Luke: Bottom line is it doesn't matter how racist you think it is, it only matters if black people think it's bad. Approach a black person at the bar tonight and ask them if they think it is offensive for a white person to paint there face black.

Dillon: You mean cheap brown colour.

Luke: fine.

Dillon: (thinks about it) No fucking way.

Luke: racist.

Getting numbers: SCENES

Yesterday I got a beautiful girl's number. Oh, before I go on remember Cait the waitress @ Jack Astor's? She gave me a fake number. This got me wondering about the politics of giving out your number. There is the classic

The double-ask phone number technique (under the surface dramatisation)

@ Jack Astor's bar, Conor has a conversation with beautiful Georgia who appears slightly distracted and impatient. Finally she begins to walk away...Conor pulls out his cell phone.

Conor: So, Georgia, could I get your number?

Georgia: Uhh... sure it's (clears throat) 416-967-1234

Conor pretends to type it into his phone.

Conor: Sorry what was that?

Georgia: (stumbling) uhh.. , what? did you just pretend to put my number into your phone and then ask me a second time to make sure I am giving you my real number? That's so slimey! And for the record it was a fake number you creep. I can do much better!

scene

I will not resort to the double ask phone number technique although I used to back in the 90's when it first blossomed.

But here is the question that arose from yesterday's interaction. I got a girl's number who immediately asked me to call her so that she had my number in her phone as well. The call and save. Rather than me dictating my number I just called her and she saved it after it showed up as an incoming call. Now we both walk away with each other's numbers. Sounds great right? Here is a conversation I had after with my 'friend' Toni.

Car on the way home from, (for sake of comedy), Jack Astor's.

Conor: I got that hot chick's number.

Toni: The blond. I should hope so. You were all over her.

Conor: No the brunette, her friend.

Toni: Really. Yeah, no, she was hot. You were all about the blond though.

Conor: (admittingly) I know but both were cute right? So, shut up man. She wants me bad though, I got her number and she immediately asked me to call her so she would have mine.

Toni: So, bro.

Conor: It means she wants my number just as bad as I want hers and it's a guaranteed hook up.

Toni: What? It's courtesy, bro. The ask back is standard. You exchange numbers. It's not give me your number and now I wield the power.

Conor: I disagree. If anything I'm weirded out by her wanting my number as well. It's desperate. Usually I get the number and that's that.

Toni: So you called her, she didn't answer and then she put your number into her contact list?

Conor: yep.

Toni: You started your relationship with an ignored call? Get used to it.

Conor: Shut up.

Scene


CELL PHONE the TV show-- coming soon from Taryn Leigh

Hello report : comeback

I have given up on the Hello report but I need to get it going again

The compliment I am going to try today.

'Excuse me. Can you do me a favour. I'm kind of having a rough day so could you smile for me to brighten it up'

I have to try it. Stay tuned for a report on it.

Women are the best: Daily

They are hot when they look like animals. In high school I was in love with a girl that looked like a lion. After high school I was in love with a girl that looked like a monkey. Too bad the ones that love me look like ant-eaters.

My predicitons on future teenage slang words for 2009

SLAM: When they are angry or overhwelmed they just say the word slam. To me the word slam is synonymous with teenage anger. When they don't get what they want, they slam stuff. Doors, books, beer bottles, pumpkins. In the technological future they will not want to slam their cell phones or computers, and doors will all be sliding. Thus SLAM!
example:

Teacher: Angelo go to the principal's office!

Angelo: What!!! SLAM!!!!!!!! SLAM this !!!!!!!

HAPPY: someone who is a loser is 'happy'. In the future the word gay is like the f word and will not be tolerated at all. Since in teenager world, if you are happy for no reason, you are obviously a fag, the word happy will be used to describe someone who teenagers think is gay.

Kevin: yo, look at Fred. He has no friends. I bet you he's happy.

Angelo: Yeah he's so happy he's jolly.

POP: The word pop can go by undeteced in high schools. Going for a pop will be smoking a joint.

Angelo: (whispers to Kevin) Yo let's go for a pop.

Kevin: yeah man. Mr. Rennie? Can I go get a quick drink (laughs to Angelo)

Mr. Rennie: Not right now, you just went for one.

Kevin: What!! SLAM!!!

MOPE: This is what teenager do. Moping around is the way they move. The word mope will be slang for chilling which is slang for hanging out.

Example

Angelo:What are you doing later, you wanna mope?

Kevin: I'll mope. No doubt.

Angelo: Let's mope over to Dave's house, he's got pops.

Kevin: I just grabed a bag of pop.

Kevin and Angelo togehter: SLAM!!!! (in this case slam can also be used as a good thing)

I have a million more,,, but have to go back to work.

Captain Coulier's blog

My crew and I have been on the exotic sex planet Puregoldia for over a year now. From 40 miles away the planet looks like a pink gumball floating in a cloud of fundip. On the planet one learns that is it scattered with exotic women and men who want nothing more than to please their visitors. I am more interested in the exotic women of course. This planet is incredibly fascinating. Immediately upon our arrival we were approached by vixens and sexy aliens. In fact we hadn't even had a chance to unpack our bags. I still haven't unpacked some of my stuff. The sexpots claimed us as their visitors and swore that their goal until our departure was to satisfy our every need. This of course meant sexually but I was one step ahead and knew they meant that. Then again I am always trying to score even when I'm approached by a nonsexual ugly alien on any planet in this galaxy. In those situations I'll just get to the point where I know I have it if I want it and then I'll Houdini on them. On this planet, my sexual urges, are reciprocated which I find great. Since we arrived I haven't been able to get any exploring done. Just seeing sexy vixens walking around naked makes me so warm and tingley that I can't concentrate. But most of all it's my host Sue. She is at least a 14 out of 10. She is absolutely perfect in every way. Her hair is constantly changing colour. When I'm in a bad mood she has beautiful shinny blond locks that brighten my day and smell like sunflowers. When I am feeling confident her hair turns jet black and begs me to twist it around my hand and pull it (gently). When I'm neutral it's brown, when I'm frisky it's red, when I'm tired it's purple, when I'm high it's blue, and when I'm stoned it's green. Her body type is always changing but is never unattractive and her clothing is always themed and the sexy version. Like when we landed she was a sexy school girl and after being here for a year she has been through just about every profession. Yesterday she showed up to my quarters dressed as a sexy cognitive therapist. She is also a total genius. She is funny and has directed plays. No award but plenty of official selections and honorable mentions, which are subjectively better right? She hates sarcasm, but only because it's too easy. She smiles when I smile and when I don't smile she 'cute smiles'. She has that smell that pure girls have. The best way to describe it is to say she has that female thigh scent. She smells like a bed made out of really sexy female thighs. She loves getting drunk and can roll joints with the best of them. she hates cuddling, and is actually attracted to premature ejaculators. She proof reads and grammar checks all my captain's blogs (except this one), and she loves running to get me coffee in the morning. Everything is great, but I can't help but wonder why the last explorer left her. Why would any man leave such an amazing woman? Is it because she is so perfect? No. because when I told her I thought she was too perfect she immediately farted which is something perfect women don't do. That was probably the cutest thing I have seen since we came here to be honest. I need to leave here. As much as I enjoy her company, I can't get anything accomplished with her around. Or have I accomplished everything simply by being with her? What a tough question. I bet she knows the answer, but I'm not going to ask her. I'd rather die trying to find the answer to the question then ask her. In fact I think I am going to change this blog around to make it sound like co-captain Fred's blog. I'll tell her I found it and ask her to analysis it. She's a sexy cognitive therapist, let's see if she can find the double talk and intrinsic motivation. Wait. She'll know it's mine because I already told her I think it's funny when she farts. Maybe I can substitute the farts with burping. But burping is actually a lot grosser. Should I risk it? Man so many tough questions.

Debit Card Etiquette

The life of Debit

waiter: Umm , (rolls eyes) if you have to pay debit, you need to come all the way to the front.

customer: Uhhhhh...I have to because I don't have cash.

waiter: Fine. Whatever.

Debit card Etiquette

1. huge lines: When there is a long line you are adding to the problem if you use debit. Why do you think Tim Horton's doesn't do debit? Mind you, I bet if you timed it, it is quicker to swipe debit and get out of there then to shovel around in your skinny jeans for quarters and then wait for some teenager to count your change.

2. under 5 dollar rule: if you use debit for a purchase under 5 dollars you got problems. I do it every now and then and end up apologizing profusely to everyone around me.

3. restaurant "to the front" walk of shame: not all dining establishments have the portable debit machines just yet. Thus customers are forced to walk to the front of the restaurant in order to pay with debit. I have no idea why restaurants keep their debit machine at the front. Maybe it's to use it as a shield if they ever get robbed. Nevertheless, the walk of shame is embarrassing. Everyone in the restaurant will watch you, the waiter will roll her eyes, and you will have to tip more even though you had to walk.

4. adding a tip: There's nothing worse than the awkward moment after the receipt prints out where the waiter gets to read what you tipped. This moment gives them time to decided whether they will say goodbye to you or not.

5. service charges: The sketchier the location the higher the service charge. I was at a brothel/strip club in Woodbridge (@ 3 in the morning) and obviously was running low on cash. Went to the ATM machine and the service charge was 15 dollars. When in Rome.

6. debit card in the drive thru: You feel like you're in a 'Dennis the menace' cartoon when the debit machine extension cord is stretched to its full capacity in order to reach the passenger in shotgun. Simply letting go of the portable hand held device will whip it back and knock out everyone in restaurant. Don't grab any greasy fries before you enter your pin; you might kill someone in line.

7. A poor man's Visa: Why aren't you collecting points? Does someone have to ask you every day if you are collecting points? Do you have an optimum card yet? Jesus! collect points OK. Avion points are nex'shit.

8. A phantom receipt: When someone leaves a receipt in the print out slot it is instinctual to check how much money they took out and how much they have left. This is to compare yourself and the transaction your about to make in order to fuel your ego.

9. Ripping the sticker off of a fresh card: Calling the 14 digit number and confirming makes you feel like you're starting new. Having a brand new debit card is like getting a new pair of shoes. For about a week you do everything to keep'em clean, but after one stain your using them to crush stuff up.

1o. Doing it yourself: The pressure is on. when you have to sweep your own card and do all the number punching you will always stripe the wrong way first. It is always the other way.

11. The emergency receipt condom: If your card is not working it is imperative that the cashier attempt to stripe it with a receipt over the stripe. That thin piece of paper makes all the difference, and if you don't believe me, you're an idiot.

Houdini

can some of my friends comment on the houdini

slyblogger
kevin

??

the Art of the Houdini

Houdini: Someone who goes to parties, gets really wasted, and then just dissappears. Consistently. They do this so much that everyone assumes they are OK when they dissappear.

Why do you pull a Houdini? I think it has to do with sudden drunk urges that pop up when you're completely hammered. Like the sudden overwhelming urge to eat something. A Houdini usually drinks way too fast. They are walking around as a normal person, but then all of a sudden the alcohol hits them all at once. At this moment everything becomes a blur almost instantly and they transform into a monster. As I try to write this blog, I have difficulty, because as much as I try to rememeber what was going through my head every time I Houdinied, I can't. Everytime I did something incredibly stupid, or hurt someone's feelings while in Houdini mood, I have to take their word for it, because I don't remember doing it. So. Houdini's are instantly completely hammered, and right when this happens primitive urges take over their brains. Also, usually Houdini is so hammered that they are unaware of their surroundings. They are basically inside out. They have no new thoughts, just old ones that keep circulating through their drunk heads, and possibly rolling out of their mouths to their unawareness. They are cavemen. Hunger: get me food now. Sex: call all numbers now. Shelter: sleep now. Quite often the Houdini can just walk right out of the party because people are so into thier own drunk worlds that they don't notice. Only rarely do they have to sneak out.
example of a Houdini's I have pulled

New Years 2002: @ Lobby bar in Toronto. Open bar. I drove down to Toronto and was going to stay at a friends house. Was drinking and had a great time until I had to go to the bathroom. I remember leaving my drink on a communial table as there were no drinks allowed in the bathroom area. Black out. Woke up at home (Oakville) and my car was still in Toronto. I had a huge rip in my jacket....found out later on that I got thrown out of Lobby, slapped a few times, and ripped my own jacket. I think someone put something in my drink, or I grabbed the wrong drink, because that night was a mysterious Houdini. Primitive urge: sex=slaps. next.... fights=kicked out...finally sleep=Oakville. (might have had some food, probably did, but don't remember)

Women are the best: Daliy

Because they look so sexy in school uniforms that the school boards are constantly changing the wardrobe to de-sex-ify them.