Celebrity Pokemon Evolution

Facial Hair: 1, Prostate Cancer: 0

It’s been a long month—one fraught with self-doubt, during which I was forced to push through personal comfort barriers and deeply re-examine that which it meant to be a man. Now, after having gone 30 days with an often less-than-luxurious strip of hair on my upper lip, I stand here triumphant, confident that every ingrown hair, each questionable glance from a stranger, and every square centimeter of razor-rash was worth it.

At the Movember gala, which took place at the Phoenix Concert Hall in Toronto on the 25th, my struggle came full circle. To the well-read observer, I was D’Artagnan; to the casual one, I was Captain Morgan—although I can’t say I had even one rum beverage all night.

The event was expertly organized by the Prostate Cancer Research Foundation of Canada and the Movember team hailing straight from down under (who, and I am jealous as I type this, were then flying off to attend the New York, San Francisco, San Diego and L.A. parties).

Check out the official Movember photo gallery from photographer Todd Hobley here.

To those who never got a chance to read up on the Movember proceedings, you can visit the official blog, which I was one of the writers for, here. My hopes are that, come next Movember, you’ll be inspired to trade in your lip skin for something with a little more character in support of prostate cancer research.

I suppose there’s one more thing for all the Arrested Development fans out there: under my costume, I was also dressed as Tobias Fünke, but you’ll have to search through the official pictures to catch a glimpse.

Big cheers out to all those who supported me and all the other Mo Bros with pledges.

Digital Supplication

It takes a strong man to admit he’s been neglecting his child. It takes an even stronger man to go down to the cellar, pull off the two-by-four that’s nailed across the door, push open the swollen wood, and untie that shivering, emaciated child.

Yes, my blog was not a flesh and bone child (were it, I would most likely be writing this from a prison cell, and most likely with a shiv in my neck), but it was something that came from my brain’s loins, and those loins are as fertile as any other loins I might have. The only difference is, if I had my brain exposed, an ambulance would come and get me, not a paddy wagon.

I loved this blog. I wrote for it, I photoshopped for it, I even made it a shiny red rocket-ship. And it was happy. Oh, was it happy. With its several hundreds of hits a day, a modest but respectable Google PageRank of 4 out 10, and a father who cared for it, it could have grown to be a strong figure within the blogdom.  Now, I look at my six hits a day and wonder: what went wrong?

Sure, I was out of town for most of April, when everythign started going wrong.  But that’s no excuse.  If there’s one thing I can always get my hands on, it’s the Internet.  Plus, travel stories are often the easiest and most entertaining.  So, theoretically, I should have been writing more.

The worst part is, I have, like ten drafts saved, waiting to be finished.  But you know what they say about letting blog posts fester…Man, you totally know what they say.

Ok, keep an eye out for real this time.  The sun is out, I’ve adjusted to the temperature, and I’ve got a solid base tan going: get ready for a creative renaissance up in here.

Top Christmas DVD Rentals

In the spirit of the season, I have been known to pop in a few holiday videos. Here are the ones that stood out in my mind from the past few weeks.

“We’re Inducing Labour, Christ!”

A modern take on the nativity story, set in a Chicago hospital, mere hours from midnight on the 24th of December. Having had no more room in the maternity ward, the virgin Maria, kindly accompanied by her gardener Luís, are relegated to the burn ward, where they must wait for the birth of our saviour. The media are kept at bay outside, while the frantic doctor, played masterfully by Jeremy Piven, sees no signs of labour commencing. It´s a race out of the womb, and some tough Hippocratical choices, all in an effort to get little Jesus out on time, and save Christmas Eve!

“It’s a Frickin’ Awesome Life”

A man who has lived a small-town life of good-natured self-sacrifice, and has altered and postponed many of his life’s dreams for the benefit of others, finally snaps, and decides to end it all, but not before going on one final bender, frequenting illegal chimp fights, producing a number of pornographic films, and buying lots and lots of non fair-trade coffee.  Jimmy Smits delivers a moving performance as coffee-house worker forced to reevaluate his own deep-seated mysoginy.

“An Isengard Christmas”

Set simultaneously with some of the events in “The Fellowship of the Ring”, Saruman and his band of orcs prepare for a very special holiday season, but someone has disemboweled the chamber-maid!  The Uruk-Hai will learn a very important lesson about the birth of our Lord.

“A Cosby Kwanzaa” 

Revisiting one of America’s most precious prime-time families a few years down the road!  the fun starts when Ron Karenga, creator of Kwanzaa, pays a visit to Cos’ and the gang.  From observing the seven principles of blackness, to a special pop-in from Emmanuel Lewis  and Gary Coleman, to an egg nog-fuelled debate about the controvery surrounding Karenga’s criminal record, including having been convicted and jailed on charges of felonious assault and false imprisonment for the torture of two women, there’s plenty of laughs in store for people of all races!

Get out there, and get watching!

THE END

The Power of the Middle

Yes, take that, everyone who always picked me last in sports! According to Kineda, I’m a Medium Authority Blogger.

That means that when people need to know what a fictional character thinks about bowel movements or what the upside of a robot uprising is, I’m about as good an authority as anyone else. But definitely not last. Booyah!

Thanks to another one of my brethren, Ryan Anderson (whom I personally feel is a much better blogger), for bringing this to light. Go ahead and click on “Kineda” above to see what a random, number-crunching website thinks of your URL, based on largely inaccurate and soulless criteria!

THE END

The Kinds of Scars You Can’t See

You know those flash “pranks” (or forwarded emails) where it appears to be an online game, asking you to do something that invokes your deepest concentration, like, I don’t know, finding three out of place objects in a picture, or count something or other, only to startle you a moment later with a scary face and loud screaming sound?

Odds are you’ve seen them before, and odds are it didn’t have a soul-shattering effect on you…..

Not so for this kid. PLEASE watch this, it is well worth 52 seconds of your life.

The best part is that the kid’s instinctual “self-defence” is to gently paw the monitor.  He’s like a kitten.

THE END

Unbridled Awesomeness

Pardon me. I’m just so frickin’ blown away by the sheer awesomeness of the banner graphic I just created, I can’t even put it into words. However, I’m also not one to sit quietly in awe at my own doing, modesty never being one of my stronger points.

What I will, instead, do is tell you that I drew the sharp, sleek and shiny red rocket you see above by using a wonderful application called Xara Xtreme. It’s a powerful piece of pixel-punching prowess.

Check it out if you aspire to emulate my brilliant rocket, or even if you want to do lamer things like drawing a train or like…uh…..a flower or something.

Either way, get ready for some tip top rejuvenation around here.

Filet-O-Risk

A colleague of mine, Eric, and I were talking about the usual random, disjointed, anecdotes and theories when he mentioned he used to work at McDonald’s, like a large number of the youth population did at one point.

Everyone who works there seems to have their own distinct “McTerror” story.  He is no exception.

He proceeded to tell me of a time during a particularly busy spell when he sliced open his index finger, I believe while chopiing some lettuce.  Being ever diligent, he promptly wrapped the julienned digit in some paper towel, so as not to disrupt the rhythm of his fellow Mcworkers.

Despite his best efforts to maintain the frantic pace of the assembly line, the no-doubt masterfully attached paper-towel slipped off his finger, and globules of his blood neatly deposited themselves on the tartar sauce atop the filet-o-fish he was assembling.

He turned briefly to re-bandage his finger, then turned back to discard the tainted sandwich, which was no longer there.

Eric: “Hey, Luke, where’s the Filet-O-Fish that was right here?”

Luke: “Oh, we served that sandwich.”

Whatever the implications of Luke’s error, health risks aside, and whether or not the customer tasted the extra iron, Eric and I agree on one thing:

Serves you right for ordering a Filet-O-Fish.

You Know What’s Not Cool?

• Shooting an elderly nun dead cause you’re pissed off an old Catholic man reminded you of someone else who called you names 600 years ago.

• Spendind time building and burning effigies when you could spending that time teaching your kids not to hate others.

• Burning people’s places of worship to retaliate for words.

I mean, I can understand you guys might be angry, but which of you thought up the brilliant idea of smashing and burning things as a means to show the world the Pope was wrong about Islam being violent? Or maybe the point was that it was wrong of him to call attention to it?

You know, it’s like the dilemma of someone you don’t know that well having something on their face, let’s say a chunk of coleslaw. You want to mention it because it’s bothering you, but you don’t want to embarrass them or make them think you’ve been hung up on it the whole time. You’d almost rather they ended up in the washroom at some point and discovered it by themselves. Sure, they’d be embarrassed that it was on their face the whole time, but at least they won’t have anyone to blame but themselves.

But what if they come out of the washroom and it’s still there?

Well then somebody’s gotta say something…and you better hope to shit it’s not you.

Well, lots of Muslims have a big piece of coleslaw on their face. And they’ve had it for a very long time. And that coleslaw is an assload of anger, spawned from a religion that obviously has been interpreted in many drastically different and often problematic ways.

And ol’ Papa Ratzi calls ‘em like he sees ‘em.

Maybe what he said wasn’t nice to Islam, but you don’t see anybody smashing their TVs or burning the NBC building in New York over this.

It’s because most other religions appear to have grasped the concept of free speech. Hell, even radical 700-club watching Christians may only write a letter to their Congressman if they get offended, as a worst-case scenario. Free speech isn’t always gonna agree with you or your religion; it may even be downright offensive, but you listen and disagree peacefully. Or else people won’t take you seriously.

Who knows? Maybe it just feels good to burn an effigy. Maybe it’s like crack: if you try it once, you’re hooked. Shit, the non effigy-burning world could be missing out on the best experience in life. Still, I’ll never know what I’m missing, cause I don’t burn things when I get angry. I mean, one time my buddy and I burned a life-size cardboard stand-up of Regis Philbin we stole from Walmart, but we were quite happy at the time if I recall correctly.

So what now? Do we only say nice things about Islam, and maybe they’ll eventually feel so good about themselves the Middle East will burst with goodness, solve all its problems and become the new Ibiza (minus the alcohol)? A land of smiles, dancing and sunshine?

Or do we do this?

Whatever approach we choose, we can’t be afraid of expressing our opinions under the threat of violence.

And sorry, guys, but no: you can’t burn the Internet.

Movember

Where have I been? Why this absence?

Apart from a particularly occupied social life, what with the bachelor party/marriage of a best friend, I’ve been moonlighting at movember.ca helping a friend with a charitable project.

I know what you’re thinking: Nick? Charity?

And I understand completely. Sure, I might rather be ridiculing seniors or embarrassing crippled school children in footraces, but there is one power further reaching and more focused than either laziness or mischievousness (two traits I have in spades): it’s a little something known as peer pressure.

That’s right, my beloved readers. I was fooled into this by a crafty Ukrainian man named Stepan. No, not Stephan. Pay attention. Stepan. Step. You gotta really punch the “p”.

At any rate, he’s taking control of this Movember puppy in Toronto. Movember, which will take place this November, is a chance for men to celebrate the power and the glory of the moustache. The aim is to take pledges by growing a killer stache during the whole month of November. The money goes toward research for both prostate and testicular cancer–two illnesses that are all too treatable and preventable with the right knowledge.

Using humour and a fresh attitude, we hope to bring awareness to the many men who, as is their wont, shrug off medical prevention for more inelegant pursuits such as face-diving or backyard chicken sifting.

So check it out (a sleeker, better looking website will be up very soon), especially if you’re in the Toronto area. Participants can most definitely be male, but females are also invited to celebrate their solidarity–see the site. Everything caps off at the end of Movember with a huge, gaudy, monster bash celebrating every mustachioed hero from Magnum P.I. to Super Mario. There’s even a moustache-themed blog.

The blog is where I’ll also be writing. Here’s a sample of what you can expect. This little number is a snippet of Hamlet that I threw together with un-texted strips that I found courtesy of the forums over at Jay Pinkerton’s site. Enjoy.

Ten Ways to Ruin a Small Child’s Back to School Season

10. Eat half his sandwich before you put it in his lunchbox. Other children will see this, and assume he is underfed at home, and must sneak bits of his sandwich in between morning classes.

9. Pour water inside his sock drawer each morning.

8. Help your kid with his “How I Spent My Summer Vacation” project. Include photographs of him in the tub, shots from your years in college, and clippings from supermarket fliers. Do not allow him to see it or have any input on it.

7. Buy your child a cell phone. Set the ring tone to Celine Dion’s ‘My Heart Will Go On’. Call him several times during recess and lunch hour.

6. Build him his own unique binders. Use corrugated cardboard and yarn. Be offended if he does not like them.

5. Convince him he’s a terrorist and stands against everything you and his classmates believe in.

Over 6000 Hits Day!!

Welcome to the party!  It’s a momentous occasion over here at Spaceandtime! Over 6000 hits since inception! Well, the actual occasion may have passed some days ago, so let’s call it “me noticing that I’m over 6000 hits” day.

To celebrate, I’ve put a wicked cool picture of a T-Rex crashing my blog party. Whoa boy! Good luck keeping the noise down now, everybody!  Pour yourself a drink, lean back in your chairs and throw on a copy of “Feelin Hot Hot Hot.” Cause that’s how we roll around here.

Does your blog have over 6000 hits? That’s what I thought. In case you haven’t done the math, 6,000 is half of 12,000, which, in dollars, is enough to buy a Geo. A Geo, everybody! I’m on the fast track now, goddammit.

Granted, according to my blog stats, many of these hits have come from that nude picture of Pamela Anderson I put up a while back (no, I won’t put a link to it, you can look in the”Pop Culture and Media” category for yourselves), but if the internet isn’t driven by perversion, then I don’t want to be a part of it.

There’s some additional celebrating to be done, so invite everybody over for the party of the season!

Yaaaaaaaaay!

Colour Inside the Lines! with Jocelyn Quim

Children, please take your seats. I shan’t be repeating myself twice. It has come to my attention that, while a good number of you are proficient in basic motor skills, an even larger number of you are constantly attempting to stray from the good Christian paths we have carved out for you.

Please, children, turn your eyes to Percy, for instance. Percy, would you please lift up the sheet that henceforth we will loosely refer to as your “drawing”? What’s it entitled? Oh, yes….”Me and My Family Under a Rainbow”. Dear Lord, Percy. Laaaaame.

As bored to tears as I’m sure we all are with the title alone, it is the artistic proficiency of the drawing itself that we shall be scrutinizing.

Now, when we’re critiquing a drawing, it’s important to–I…um…I’m sorry….is that brown in your rainbow, Percy? God Almighty, boy! Have you not heard of a little thing called ROY G. BIV? Wikipedia that shit, Percy. That’s right. No brown in there.

Let us now move on to more detailed criticism. Would that I could say that the following problem applies only to Percy, but sadly, this is emphatically not the case.

Colour inside the lines, children! Nothing separates honest Protestants from a pack of bedouin savages better that the ability to maintain clear, concise outside lines in one’s illustrations, however otherwise flawed they may be.

I suppose the first rule in becoming a proficient line-abiding colourist is not to be born the son of a shoepolish-huffing reprobate. Sorry Clarence; you’ll be behind from the get-go.

I’m Here Alright

Oh, I’m here indeed, don’t worry.  Things have been crazy busy with my Spaniard friend Alberto in town visiting, but he’s gone to Miami for a few days, so I’ll have some chances to write in the evenings.

For now, here’s a list of things in nature that are blue:

1.  Blueberry

2.  A bluebird

3.  Some sorts of blue flowers

4.  Uhh…I think that’s it.

Whatever, you guys do better.  Name five blue things in nature.  See?  Not so easy, huh?

Spaceandtime Realist Channel Presents: Ten Things to Do on a Deserted Island

1. Cry

2. Sleep

3. Look for water

4. Flash a mirror fragment into the sky.

5. Starve

6. Burn

7. Despair

8. Panic

9. Lose Control

10. Die

Stay tuned for next week’s: “Where does Fluffy go when he dies?”