November 2005 Archives

Something dawned on me today that I hadn't realized. While discussing the upcoming election with Becky (Thank you Stephen Harper – an election is JUST what I wanted for Christmas), I came to the realization that Canada DOES have a party that's center. Not right like the Conservatives, or left like the Liberals or NDP (ignoring Bloc, which is also left, because no one votes Bloc outside of Quebec), but dead on center. The Green Party of Canada is right in the middle of everything.

It's not to say that I would ever vote Green, but it is an option. Laurence complained that he would love to vote Conservative, but he won't. I'm guessing the fact that they hate social progress and minorities has something to do with that – but it's just a guess. Or maybe it has something to do with the fact that Stephen Harper hates Canada. Don't believe me? Watch the news. Or just read this great list of Steve-isms. Don't worry Steve, I still believe you don't have a hidden agenda. You're just a confused homophobe in a progressive country. It's ok.

Tim campaigned for the Green Party back at the last federal election. I avoided it, and essentially just talked a lot of smack about it. I can't find an example of the smack I talked, but I'm sure it's in one of the Pilot Archives. I still remember asking Tim what the platform was like and he said that they were "socially liberal but economically conservative." I never made anything of it, until today.

I'm not sure what caused the thought to pop in my head. It was probably Becky, because she votes Green. It did make me think though. We all know that the Conservatives called this election because they want to win more seats. However, debacle after Stephen Harper debacle later, I don't think they'll gain seats. I think they might even stand to lose seats. The Liberals will lose seats, but to the NDP and Bloc. Now that the Green Party gets funding, I think the people who want to have a more right-winged economically based party may end up voting green. It'll be interesting to see what happens. I'm looking forward to it. NOT.

The TTC is looking at redesigning subway stations along the University line – starting with Museum, St. Patrick and Osgoode. The goal is to make the stations look more like the cultural landmarks around them, using buildings like the ROM, AGO and Opera Company as inspiration. It's hoped that this will also promote tourists taking the subway, and make Torontonians ride it because of "just how good it feels".

So here's what feels good.

Maybe, I'm crazy, but none of that feels good to me. In fact, it looks INCREDIBLY tacky. It's almost pathetic. It's not hard to make a subway look good. This has gotten a lot of coverage in the blogosphere already (Transit Toronto, The Spacing Wire, an article in The Star, and Paved. While some people think that the TTC should stick to the original tile patterns, I find those bland. So here's some pictures of subways stations around the world that are only about three million times nicer than what's been proposed:

Bilbao

Brussels

Kiev

Moscow

Munich

Ok, the last one was totally just put in because of the rainbow pattern, but it would make a sweet redesign for Wellesley.

Last night I got a phone call at 1:00AM, right as I was getting ready for bed. Justin was calling, and normally when I get a call from Justin it means that he needs a ride somewhere because my ex-boyfriend is making his life hell in an attempt to deal with the fact that I don't want anything to do with him anymore. So I promptly told him I was in bed when he asked me for a favour, and he seemed to know why when I assured me I wouldn't have to go father than my computer. That was doable.

It turns out that someone in his family had managed to screw up his computer real good, and after four days without the internet he was losing his mind. I felt for him, considering that after 6 hours without the internet I start to lose my mind. Something had happened to his laptop, so he had to run some hard drive fixing program that I've never heard of but apparently worked bit by bit, which was a thought enough to make my cry a little on the inside. The CD key on his laptop was for Windows XP Home SP2, but the CD he had was an SP1 CD which wouldn't let him continue the installation. So I needed to find him a key he could use, which I scrambled to find hoping I could get back to bed.

I didn't end up going to bed though. Instead I talked to Justin on the phone for a good hour. This amuses me because I have a serious hate for talking on the phone, yet I managed to do it. I hadn't really seen or heard from him in two months, so we did a lot of catching up. Not so much catching up as gossiping. It was interesting to hear what happened to people who I just assumed had died. Yes, it's horrible to say that but I honestly just assumed that people had left Toronto for good. Turns out that some of them had. Others are still around, living in the strangest places possible. But they're there and I guess that's all that matters.

It was a weird time for me to be talking to Justin. Now that I'm coming close to my finals again, it was an interesting reminder of what I could be like if I'm not in school. Not that Justin was the reminder, so much as talking to Justin was. I mean, I could be some kid living on the street pulling tricks and collecting STDs. Instead I'm busting my brain trying to prep for math137. Again. I hate finals. If anyone wants to know why I haven't been talking to people, that's why. I'll be behind the stack of books and binders that have invaded my living space and are taunting me with all their knowledge.

This weekend I finished my NLS course and became a fully qualified lifeguard. Scared? I know I sure as hell am. I can now be placed in charge of a pool full of something like 30 people by myself, and even more if there are other guards working. I control your safety. Well not your safety. You control that, until something bad happens or you're an idiot and you dive into the shallow end. And if you ever dive into the shallow end I'm going to save you just so I can smack the shit out of you afterwards. Spinal injuries are so not fun.

After two extremely long and tiring weekends, it's nice to get it over. Especially after all the practicing with the drowning non swimmers and the spinals, the heart attacks, the stroke and the spinals, broken bones, and dislocated joints oh and don't forget the spinals because EVERYONE LOVES PRACTICING SPINALS! My class of 14 consisted of one other boy, and twelve girls for me to be a big homo to. Generally, you need to get along with people you're spending all day with and that was the best way for me to do it.

It worked a lot. There was a lot of Mean Girls, Spice Girls, and just girl stuff in general; things to help make a horribly exhausting weekend a little less horrible. I tried my best. In fact, I even gave four of them my email address. To be totally honest, I expect nothing to come of these friendships because it's one thing to be friends with people when you're stuck in a room with them, but afterwards it gets to be a challenge. Not that I mind, I thought it was the gesture that counted.

I think what's ironic about this is how I did the whole thing because I wanted to get a job as a lifeguard in Waterloo. At least, that's what I've told most people. I think it's time to come clean. The real reason I did all of this is because of a ridiculous dream I had over the summer about high school, and a boy, which lead me to realize that even with the mono I've let myself get out of shape and I wasted my high school years, and that I should do something about it. So life guarding was something I could do about it. There, my deep dark secret it out. Moving on.

I think not that I've got the certification I'm at a loss for what to do. I don't have any more time to continue training at home. In fact, I really didn't have the time to do the NLS crash course because I should have been studying. The fact that I wanted to have at least my NLS so I could try and work in Waterloo pulled rank, and now I have two weeks to teach myself two courses. Sweet! I'm an idiot. So maybe I'll take Instructor Courses or Examiner Courses when I get to Waterloo? I doubt it. I need to take the courses, and then co-teach and I'd end up co-teaching in Toronto or Oakville with my previous instructors.

Where does this leave me? With a whole lot of studying to do, and a whole lot of NOT funny to talk about. Somebody beat me with the funny stick, I'm losing my touch.

For those of you not aware of what's going on with the whole Sony Root-kit situation, Boing Boing provides a pretty good summary of it. Originally I laughed at Sony for being dumb enough to think that they would get away with installed malicious software on their customers' computers. Then I realized that I purchased one of the cds listed on the infected cd list: Natasha' Bedingfield's Unwritten.

Not a pleasant realization, considering I guard my computer like my life. Now, the CD itself says nothing about the software and my product number doesn't match the one listed which makes me wonder if the software was only included on newer releases of the cd. The fact that this is happening alone is enough to make me never want to purchase a Sony CD again. I'm just glad that I've had to reformat three times since this happened, and copied my songs off of my iPod instead of from the cds. Sony can bite me. I'm going to see if I can get any money from all the lawsuits being filed.

Bogani Chambers & Associates
(legal practitioners)
104 Church Street,
P.O. Box 51814, Newtown,
3251 Johannesburg
South Africa
bogani_chambers@excite.com
Hello,
I was privileged to capture your names from the Internet. My name is Mr. Oliver Bogani, a legal practitioner and the personal Attorney to my late client, who died along with his wife and his two sons in a ghastly motor accident along South Hills road Johannesburg, over 2 years now May 12th, 2003. All the occupants in the vehicle lost their lives. I am convinced that it was the grace of God that made me to locate you. My client was a successful and an accomplished family man, who made enough fortune before his untimely death.
Since then I had made several inquiries through your embassy to locate any of my clients extended relative but this exercise has proved unsuccessful. After several unsuccessful attempts, I decided to trace his relatives through the Internet, to locate any member of his family not much progress was recorded. My late client was an influential wealthy businessman, and gold magnet here in South Africa and he left behind a deposit of $5.6M (Five Million, Six Hundred Thousand Dollars) only in his domiciliary bank account here in Johannesburg.
After the death of my client his bankers contacted me, as his Attorney to provide his next of kin who should inherit his fortune. The board of directors of his bank adopted a resolution and I was mandated to provide his next of kin for the payment of this money within 28 working days or forfeit the money to the bank as unclaimed fund. The bankers had planned to revoke the abandoned property decree of 1996 to confiscate the funds after the expiration of the period given to me. Despairing at the point of exhaustiveness, fortunately, I came across your name, to my utmost amazement, I discovered that you bear the same surname with my late client and coincidentally, you are nationals of the same country.
I am Convinced that you may be linked with my late client or that you might provide clue to my search, I therefore, decided to contact with these facts before me because of the similarities. By virtue of my closeness to the deceased and his immediate family, I am very much aware of my client financial standing and the bank account he operates. I have reasoned very professionally and I feel it will be legally proper to present you as the next of kin of my deceased client so that you can be paid the funds left in his bank account hence I contacted you.
I seek your consent to present you as the Next of Kin to the Deceased since you are at an advantage, so that the proceeds of this Bank Account valued at US$5.6Million Dollars can be paid to you. We shall both share the funds. 60% to me and 40% to you, I shall assemble all the necessary Legal Documents that will be used to back up our claim. All I require is your honest cooperation to enable us seeing this deal through. I guarantee that this will be executed under a legitimate arrangement that will protect you from any breach of law. Please get in touch with me by email: bogani_chambers@excite.com Best Regards Mr. Oliver Bogani

It's strange how that happened. I had money in hand, ready to be spent. I've been looking for a dark pair of shoes for far too long now, and I could always use another sweater. It just wasn't working out for me.

For a mall as fabled as Yorkdale, I was extremely disappointed. Yes, valet parking is incredibly cool. Cool, and pathetic, if you are most of the people who live in the GTA. Making the whole mall look like a European street market was nice, until I had to walk by useless stores that sold nothing of interest to me.

Banana Republic had nothing worth trying on, never mind nothing that fit me. The one sweater I liked at Mexx wasn't available in my size – go figure. H&M is just H&M, and I don't like walking in Old Navy because it weirds me out, so buying something is usually out of the question. Of course we made the mandatory stop in American Eagle, but if I don't see anything I like in the Oakville Place American Eagle, not much will change at other ones. Although I have to say, they almost had real jean sizes at the Yorkdale American Eagle. Almost. Every single shoe store we went into failed at having anything interesting in my size.

The hoody debacle in Parasuco was funny enough to make it all ok. After disappointment after disappointment in all the other stores, not finding anything I liked in Holt Renfrew, and deciding not to buy the Penguin sweater at Below the Belt, I walked into Parasuco ready to buy just about anything. Thank god I tried it on first. The piece of clothing was some sort of tight, hybrid turtleneck-hoody that looked decent enough folded up. I tried it on, walked out to see the mirror and turned right back around to take it off as fast as I could. Of course the pretending-to-be-straight-by-saying-bro-a-lot sales rep tried to sell me on some other hideous piece of clothing. I think it might have been the first time I've been rude to a sales rep, but by that point I didn't care.

It's not that I have a problem buying nothing. I'm just getting seriously annoyed with shopping trip after shopping trip not providing any sweet clothes. I think I have a problem.

Ladies and Gentlemen: Mike Haddad is officially 100% legal. It was my birthday yesterday, and I'm still recovering from the events of the weekend. For a weekend that is supposed to be so important in the development of your identity, it turned out great. Serious fear of it sucking, and wanting to vomit aside – I haven't enjoyed myself like that in a long time. Far too long if you ask me.

Saturday night we had a room booked at the Days Hotel, without the grandmother's discount because I don't actually think she gets one. The room was effing tiny though; Penthouse Suite it wasn't but we could totally make due. By which I mean we totally had the alcohol to make due. I didn't drink very much but I was feeling it before we even left the hotel. Unfortunately the fresh air had a sobering effect that left me just feeling sick to my stomach ad not drunk. Walking around the corner and seeing the line was even worse. Thank god for bypass.

The first thing we did when we were inside was see how long the line was, and get drinks. I owe Adam far too much money because of that night alone. Drinks are expensive, and showing up in Victoria Beckham Rock and Republic jeans generally means that you no longer have the money for alcohol. Drink we did, and I got far more compliments about my jeans than I can remember so if you think about it, it all worked out. It worked out more in my favour than in Adam's but it's my birthday so I'm sure he'll forgive me.

The music was good. I think once you drink enough any music is good. The thing about the homohops is that I've noticed Samson is exerting influence over the dj and the music played. Exhibit A: Raspberry Barrette and Respect. Two very not homohop songs that I may or may not have enjoyed more than I should have. I don't remember much of the music after that. I was focusing on other things. I know that they did play Hung Up a disappointing total of 3 times, less than the 5 I guessed it would be.

Samson performed at midnight, performing two Madonna songs. Just before him was the ever so popular drag king who should be punched in the face for performing a song as emo as Jesse McCartney's Beautiful Soul. Shortly afterwards I felt myself being groped by someone a little more forceful. Oh Mike, what would your friends say if they saw us? I can tell you right now that I doubt they would be happy.

Monday night my parents took me out for sushi. I would like to express my deepest love for Nikko (on Kerr, just north of Speers). Aside from having the best Unagi I've ever tasted, they made a surprise roll that seemed to have been lightly toasted, so the rice on the outside was crunchy and it came with sauces and oh god I'm going to relapse into another sushi induced orgasm. That wasn't the best part though. After we were all ready to go, they played a track of Asian people singing happy birthday. Let me repeat that, with capslock on for emphasis: ASIAN PEOPLE SINGING HAPPY BIRTHDAY!! I nearly died. It is officially the highlight of my LIFE. They even gave me a rose made out of sashimi and caviar, and a cucumber piece with a candle in it like a cupcake. I loved it.

After sushi with the family Marc, Becky and Adam picked me up so we could go out. We ended up at Kelsey's, as opposed to Boston Pizza which is where we always end up. Instead of eating I kept drinking Banana Splits, which turn out to have more alcohol than you realize until you're very shitfaced. Wrapping up the night with Mean Girls at Becky's was pretty sweet. You know why? Because I totally know what you're saying about, and it's just bleak.

Friday night I went out with some of the AE crew to see Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. I'm lukewarm on the whole movie right now. The cinematics were great, but the movie strayed far away from how the book worked. So while I suggest you all go out and see the latest piece in the Harry Potter legacy, I'd like to take the chance to point out some issues that bothered me with the movie.

First of all, the movie was two and a half hours long. It's hard to squeeze a book as big as the Goblet of Fire into a movie that's only two and a half hours long, yet it was still long enough to make people who aren't Harry Potter fans (Adam) antsy throughout the movie. So in the two and a half hours they made some changes to the story.

Winky and Dobby, who were key characters in the book, do not appear in the movie. In the book, Winky is responsible for sending up the dark mark at the beginning of the movie. Rather, Winky gets blamed for sending up the dark mark at the beginning of the movie when it was in reality Barty Crouch Jr., who was supposed to be under the Imperius Curse and an Invisibility Cloak being watched by Winky in the top box at the World Quidditch Championship.

Since they cut Winky out, they completely rearranged where the Weasley's were sitting. They were in the worst possible seats, instead of in the top box with the Malfoys. Annoying, but they made it work - although this could be because the Quidditch World Cup lasted all of 1 minute on screen. Dobby being cut out wasn't so much of a big deal. Instead, Neville gave Harry the Gillyweed which was Barty Crouch's hope in the beginning of the story.

Before the first task, Ron never saw the dragons in the book. They fudged this up in the movie. While Ron claimed to be the reason that Hagrid told Harry, Barty Crouch Jr. still yelled out that Hagrid would never had told Harry had it not been for him at the end of the movie. Aside from that, the creative license used on the tasks was in my opinion fair and justified, despite what some others think. Creative license that I didn't agree with: Portraying the other triwizarding schools as all-girl and all-boy.

A lot of the side nonsense was cut out of the movie, but my biggest beef was with the way the Yule Ball was done. The Yule Ball is the turning point in the Ron and Hermione love story. The only person who was really shocked by how Hermione looked was Miss. Patil. Otherwise, there was no really big deal made about it which was a little disappointing.

On the whole though the movie was definitely worth the $10.50 that I paid for it. My next beef is going to be with the movie companies for charging that outrageous price for a student ticket.

I am so fucking angry right now. I'm not even sure I will be able to properly describe how angry I am. Right now, I'm shaking and I feel sick to my stomach and I have this HUGE urge to just punch someone, anyone, in the face – over, and over, and over again. For those of you who were around back before this was The Mike Haddad Show, and you experienced the misguided rage that was Angry Blog: Number 1 let me tell you: this is going to be worse. When I wrote that one I wasn't myself angry, I was more floating around in other people's anger. Right now, I am angry.

This is a story that spans months and months; even more than the original angry blog. I'm sure that even though no names are going to be used in this entry, I'm going to get the lengthiest piece of hate mail ever when I'm done. To tell you the truth, I don't care right now. It would just help me in justifying this sick to my stomach feeling – aside from all the shit that is already being talked. It will make me feel better about wanting to tear a bunch a shit apart.

Have you ever had someone where for whatever reason things just never fucking worked out? I feel so disgustingly hopeless in this situation now. I officially just want it to go away, but that will never work for me which is why you're getting this. For what is just over a year now, I have had the longest rollercoaster friendship ride of my life. I've been great friends, and then worst enemies more times than I can count. If you're told otherwise by someone other than me or the other two people who heard me through the whole thing than it's probably bullshit.

I can't begin to tell you all the lies that I've been subjected to. Ironically enough, that's a lie – because at some point or another we all end up lying. This case though, is just extreme. I'd recommend a therapist or something before this shit gets any worse. What made it worse through all of this is that I knew that I was being lied to. I could sit and go over all of my chat logs from the last year, but that would probably just make the feeling of wanting to scream and vomit even worse. Lies about family life, personal life, school life; the whole friendship was one big sham. I don't think any of what I've been told is real. I think I knew all along, and that's what made the friendship so hard for me to handle. I couldn't believe a word I was being told. It turns out I was right.

The cherry on the cake is the lie that involved a third party. It was no longer just me being affected by lie after lie that was spewed out. Now a totally innocent person was dragged into this shit. A totally innocent person who I refused to even look at because of what I was told. Never mind the fact that ex-boyfriends are totally off limits because that's like the rules of feminism. After all the lies about the horrible things that were going on, I get this shit.

I'm taking you back months ago when I was finally on good terms again. The homohop was coming up and we were all psyched to go. Not just because it was the homohop, but because we had spent most of the week talking about how sweet things were. We were also all in high spirits because a lot of the time had been spent making fun of the third party for being so effing crazy. I mean, let's be honest: randomly traveling 500 kilometers to try and have sex with someone is just weird. Especially getting an expensive hotel room and making the person stay with him through a weekend of random propositions for blowjobs and sex. Good thing that they stayed in separate beds. And the time they were on the couch and the third party tried to go in for the kiss only to get pushed away? That's classic.

I think to help portray what's causing what I'm feeling right now I also need to let you all know that I had a huge crush on the second party. It was a well known fact. By well known I mean the two of us and my best friend knew. It was a little hush hush because I was having extreme trouble with my current relationship only being made worse by the fact that mono made me cranky and want to sleep a lot. So it was a discussed topic. Also, after something could have been made of these feelings I was constantly made out to be the horrible person. Yes, I was feeling a little down. So I lead on another boy giving me a real reason to feel down. But we were soon off to the homohop and that was a few weeks after the oh-so-amusing third party trip to Ottawa.

At the homohop something interesting happened. After spending most of the week sending false text messages to the third party about how the person was actually 500km away at home, we ran into the third party at the homohop - just after the person had been making out with my friend. Ya. Let's not get into that, because remember: I'm the bad person. Needless to say that the third party yelled - a lot. The rest of us thought it was hilarious and it was quickly forgotten afterwards; an even chalked up to the third party being insane.

Then tonight happens, and I get a bomb dropped on me when I'm already in a shitty mood. The real story was much, much different than what I've been told. Never mind the fact that over and over I was told that there were no lies, and the small things were just misunderstandings. No, this goes beyond just a lie. This is almost like living another life.

As you've probably guessed, the third party's side of the story was far different than the one that we had originally heard. There was no separate beds, or pushing away on the couch. And after everything I'm so much more inclined to believe this one. Not just because I'm hurt, and feel used, but because it makes sense. After being questioned about when the third party was going to go visit, the third party made the 500km trip and had (and this is a quote) "sex over and over and over" to the point where it was "an excessive amount over the span of two days" (that was a quote too). Then they spent the next day walking around holding hands and calling each other "honey." Sweet. Then the third party went home, and the person dumped him off on the curb without telling the third party he was being dumped, and not telling anyone else what happened.

Well. Isn't that lovely. So when we laughed at the third party for being crazy because he thought there was a relationship, maybe he thought that because HE WAS IN A RELATIONSHIP. So now I sit here feeling angry and wanting to puke and thinking I totally deserve an apology for everything because there is no way I can move on and try and make everything better right now. And you know what, I think I'm right.

Blogging has been heralded as a great technological innovation. Ever since Livejournal made blogging really popular, people have moved from writing down there thoughts or just plain letting them float away to typing them up and putting them on the internet for everyone to see. In the hustle and bustle of posting all these great (or not so great) thoughts on the internet, people seem to overlook one important fact: You're posting your thoughts on the internet. People are bound to read them, and bound to get offended at one point or another. This brings up the all important question of whether or not people are actually allowed to get offended by something on a blog. Ladies and gentlemen, I've got the answer. Only sometimes.

The Plastics used The Burn Book too write mean things about the other girls in their school. When Cady finally cracked Regina to the point where she had nothing left, she screamed (a lot), knocked over some stuff and then made copies of everything in the burn book for the whole world to see. Hilarity did ensue. All the girls were offended, cliques were torn apart and Mr. Duvall totally didn't leave south side for that. In all the chaos, only one person wasn't offended. Janis Ian wasn't offended, because she didn't actually have a right to be offended. Whether or not she actually realized that doesn't matter. Had she been offended I would have been like, "bitch please!" The fact that it was her goal to find out what was written about her in that book completely takes away her right to be offended by it.

This brings us to blogs and The Internet. The Internet is like The Burn Book because it lets you say mean things, like how you hate ugly people, with little or no consequences. The Internet is also like The Burn Book in the sense that people can have what you've written about them dumped all over the school, and get offended by it. But if you're that dyke who's trying to find out what The Plastics have written about you so you can show the world what an axe wound Regina really is, then I have news for you sister. You don't get to be offended.

Xiaxue is big on the "get the hell out if you're offended" thing. I guess Singaporean blog readers really are offended easily. Sorting through the broken English and random Chinese words thrown in, I really haven't found anything offense in there. She's done a very good job of telling people who get offended to fuck off. She's right too. Saying things like you don't need to pamper animals, or that she didn't enjoy Kuala Lumpur doesn't make her a terrible person. It also puts her well within The Burn Book Law; People are voluntarily reading her site. They're seeking it out and then finding themselves offended. Get over it.

The same thing goes for the people here getting bitter about comments about ugly people or how good we (friends and I) look. Get over it. Nothing horrible is being said, and you're seeking it out. Go somewhere else if it makes you feel sad. And while you're there, think about why it makes you feel sad because you've obviously got some personal issues to deal with.

It's a very rare occasion that I end up disagreeing with Adam. Unless of course it's about the boys that he thinks he wants to date, in which case I end up disagree A LOT because really, he has bad taste in boys. He totally is Gretchen Wieners. So when we do disagree I end up being a bitch about it. Take last night for example: Adam disagreed with a discussion Rob and I were having. Hilarity ensues.

Rob and I were talking about different types of social divisions. Whether any of you like it or not, they're out there. No one is original anymore. No one is themselves. We're all bits and pieces of other people and what we think will be cool, myself including. I'm just lucky enough that I end up being cool anyways.

Now, I'm well aware that it's next to impossible to categorize people into different social groups and stereotypes - unless of course they want to be stereotyped, either consciously or subconsciously. Lucky for us, we were talking about two of the fakest social groups ever: scene kids and emo children. Even more lucky for us, these just happen to be two groups who DO strive to be categorized. So making a statement comparing what we were discussing to saying something racist and stating that "all Muslims are not terrorists, and all Germans are not Nazis" is just plain offensive.

So I'm going to give you all a lesson on social stereotypes and image. Image is everything, and everyone will admit it. If someone doesn't admit image is everything it means that they probably have bad image, in which case you should walk away quickly. Image is how you define yourself for other people. Why do people spend $95 on a Lacoste polo? Image. Why did I spend $135 on Lacoste shoes? They're hot, and are regularly $175. Oh, and image. People see them and say "Oh nice shoes!" Then people see the name, or the logo and say "YO MAN! Sweet shoes!" At least, that's what they would say if they were Josh Rosal.

So you take a person who goes out and wears the hot black band shirts and sweet accessories from H&M. Then they dye their hair sweet colours like blonde-under-black or blonde with purple highlights or something equally as hot (and scene). It's not hard to tell that they're a scene kid. Part of the cookie cutter mainstream response to people getting fed up of boy bands. But you can totally tell they're scene kids and there's nothing wrong with that either. Most of them are really hot. Unlike the emo kids who tend to fugly and make out with hotdogs.

I think more than anything this is a chocolate induced fit of rage that was spurred on by Adam's complete lack of social knowledge. It's like saying: We don't have clique problem at this school, and that some of you are just victims here and shouldn't have to stay for this stupid meeting. To which I say ask anyone; they'll know what scene kids are, and they'll tell you I should stop working in Mean Girls quotes into my blogs. And that Adam totally looks like a lesbian with his new haircut.

So I'm not sure how it happened. Some how someone decided that since there were bars that had Queer Friendly events that it was suddenly the next gay village and it would be the end of Church St. Hell, they even have a blog which I loathe to link to because it's just that stupid. I'm going to do it anyways: here's Queer West Village Toronto's Blog. Excuse me while I go wash my eyes.

I stumbled across it at work trying to find information about the TTC while I was letting my brain cool down from the incessant banging and moving and screeching and screaming going on in the warehouse while they reorganize it. The part of the warehouse that they're working on right now just happens to be right behind the diarrhea brown painted drywall that my desk is up against. It's hard to stay focused and not want to stab something. Anyways, I was perplexed by this blog and it's statement that there was another gay village and that it was replacing Church St. as the place to be. I mean, I'm one of the gayest people I know and I sure as hell never head anything about that happening. Every time I've been to the Village in the last little bit – while not as much recently as I used to go – it's busy. So I read the most recent entries, and then went back to the archives.

Here's what I've got. This queer west thing seems to extend from Parkdale through to Roncesvalles and into High Park and then probably all the way over into Etobicoke, because I mean hey, everything else in there is part of the ghetto. Now, I will admit: there are a lot of poor faggots who live in Parkdale, and in those dirty apartments along Dufferin between Queen and King. Personally I'd become and evangelical Christian and live in a church before I lived there, but that's my prerogative. So you have gays, and gays like to go out. The only problem is these gays aren't really that gay.

DJ Blackcat (Mykel Hall) moved his popular Saturday night hip-hop/R&B party Stylin' from the dingy basement of Manhattan Club near Yonge and Bloor out to the same West End club. "I was nervous about moving only because my crowd tends to be hesitant about new spots. Many of them are still in the closet," says Blackcat

First of all, hip-hop and R&B and homos never ever got a long. So it doesn't surprise me that they were in the closet. Don't get me wrong, there's a lot of R&B and even more hip-hop that I like. The difference is I'm comfortable with my sexuality and don't need to conform to what the media portrays as manly (read: being a gangster) so my musical tastes are a little broader.

Then we get to the clubs that these not-gays go to. They aren't actual gay clubs – "Toronto's West End has nine venues hosting 14 queer-geared events." I hate to break all their fragile, not-gay hearts but there's some garbage club in Guelph that has a gay night. It's still a straight club. It has a gay night. I don't see people heralding it as the new gay village. Look out Toronto, Guelph's the new gay hot spot.

I think it's absolutely ridiculous that they're claiming this is the new gay village, or that Toronto now has two gay villages. This Queer West business doesn't even have a full fledged gay club. It's just where self-hating queers go because they don't want to risk being seen around actual gay people. It's easy to deny being gay if it's not a gay club. "Oh, I didn't know it was a gay night. But it's not that bad, there's some hot bitches here." Please.

I've got one final piece of argument to blow this whole gay west thing into the garbage along side Holyday's proposal to sell the naming rights for Nathan Phillip's Square: Homohops. Thanks to U of T's LGBTOUT and 5ive's love for a loophole around U of T's poster rules, underage homos have one night a month to be massive faggots and experience being gay. They dress up, they go in packs, they do drugs, they get hit on by dirty old men, and most of all: they're ok with it. They don't have a problem with themselves while they do it.

So sure, this gay west thing might be big for a little bit. But sooner or later the rest of the neighbourhood is going to catch on to their little scheme and they'll be booted out to Scarborough. When that time finally comes we can put this issue to rest. By which I mean they can put this issue to rest – I'm putting it to rest right now. At least then they'll stop making stupid comments like "Toronto now has two gay villages" and asking if Toronto tourism can accept "that fact that there are now two gay villages" – Oh and they can stop asking if a "Woody's :Annex" can be far off. One Woody's is bad enough. We definitely don't need another place for old men to go pretend they're young.

Seizures are symptoms of abnormal brain function. With the exception of very young children and the elderly, the cause of the abnormal brain function is usually not identifiable. Along with other emergencies like heart attack, angina, and stroke, the Lifesaving Society’s Standard First Aid course teaches you how to treat seizures. In all of the training courses seizures were the easiest to have because it wasn’t that hard to treat. Let me tell you, none of those fucking kids knew how to have a good seizure.

Today at work one of the girls had a seizure and it might just be the single most unpleasant experience of my life. Unlike the people who over exaggerate or straight out lie about things they claim to be capable of doing or owning - speaking languages, doing well in school, having a house with a hundred bafrooms – I am telling the straight up facts on this one. It happened, and I wanted to die. The thing that no one without first aid training or experience with these medical conditions would know, and the thing that they neglect to tell you in these trainings courses is that when you encounter someone with a seizure you will be left with a feeling of utter helplessness.

I was sitting at the spare desk with the multimedia computer because it had a monitor that doesn’t give me headaches, and headaches were not something I wanted to have while I continued to try and finish my work reports. All of a sudden one of the girls who worked just outside the office in the alcove in the hallway started screaming for help. It confused me because: 1) she was screaming for help, and 2) I didn’t hear the other girl also screaming. I assumed that the cabinet was falling over on her or she had a big box and was getting hurt and that the second girl was out getting mail or something. Boy was I wrong.

I saw she was holding something up, something that was black. Only the black was the sweater that the second girl was wearing. In retrospect I totally kicked into autopilot at that point and it took me 5 hours before I realized that. When it happened though I was already trying to calm the first girl down, help her hold the second girl, and tell the third lady that came running to move the chair so that we could lower her to the ground. Let me tell you though, I was scared shitless. The whole time I was in shock. It wasn’t at all like the cheap seizures people pretended to have while we were training. This was violent. It took a lot out of me to get her to the ground – although I’m totally impressed with how I slowly lowered her head out of habit. Thank you Fraser Williston (I’m totally emailing him a thank you with this story after I finish this).

The difference between treating someone with a heart attack, or an angina attack or a stroke and treating someone having a seizure is huge. When someone is having a heart attack, they may not want to believe they’re having a heart attack but you can tell them that they’re having severe chest pain, and tell EMS that they’re having severe chest pain and calm them down until EMS shows up. If someone is having an angina attack, then it’s happened before and they have medication and they’ll cooperate. If someone is having a stroke, then they may be scare shitless because they can’t feel half their body, but at least they will let you call 911 and you can talk to them and calm them down. A seizure is different. There’s no conscious response. Just a horrible feeling that you can’t do anything, and you don’t know if they’re getting better or worse.

The unpleasantness only continued. I had put her on her back because that was the first thing to do. Only, she didn’t stop seizing like the kids did in training. She kept seizing. She kept her jaw clamped down, she was gurgling and turning a not so nice shade of bluish purple, and then she spit out blood. Fuck. Blood meant she was biting on her tongue, and also meant that she was bound to choke. I was completely capable I putting her in a semi-prone position, but there was no way I had the strength to open her jaw up even a tiny bit so the blood and saliva would drain out. There was a lot of yelling about calling for help, and calling 911, and getting the person who was first aid trained (ironically my supervisor), and I was about to faint. It was my fault that not many people knew I was first aid trained, so I was a little jaded when they asked me to wait for the ambulance. But I was totally able to help update EMS through another person on the phone, and then got my ass outside before I fainted.

It was horrible to be there with everyone screaming, and a girl (well lady) in your care (sort of) who was unresponsive, and shaking violently enough to bruise me with her jaw clenching down so hard it could sever your finger if you had it in there. I could sort of deal with that. It wasn’t as hard core as I was used to in training, but we did do one where my victim wasn’t even the person injured but a person who went into respiratory shock based on what he saw. What I wasn’t prepared for was the wheezing, and the whimpering and the blue puffy choking. I apologize to anyone who actually read all of this. It was more a brain dump that I figured I needed since while everyone else was able to get back to work I spent four hours trying to not through up and walking around doing busy work so I didn’t have to think about how my body felt like jelly.

I did gain one thing from the whole experience though. I truly good reason to take the NLS course next weekend: something to help me combat the helplessness. I suggest you all take some sort of first aid training too. Otherwise you may end up being one of the old ladies screaming making my life complicated and making me just want to crawl in a hole and die because no matter how many times I point out that she’s still breathing and it’ll be fine when EMS shows up you will yell "OH MY GOD SHE ISN’T BREATHING" and make me want to punch you in the face.

Note: I would never punch the ladies I work with in the face. But I swear to god, if I know you and you do that you’re going to get your free 1 MILLION punches to the face – TEN TIMES OVER!