Maybe next year...

(This will be a blog on sports. I'm not saying that you ladies might not enjoy it, I'm just warning you is all. Read it anyway though. It's good for the eyes. And I'll throw in a picture of a sexy guy at the end.)

I am in a bad mood. A really bad, foul, rotten mood. Ornery even. I'm almost at the end of my rope and a sense of excitement and anticipation has once again been snuffed out like a mosquito who was met with deadly applause. Why this miserableness? I'm even embarrassed to say it but here goes. It is because with about 40 seconds to go, Michael Vick threw an interception in the end zone, ending the game and the Philadelphia Eagles' playoff hopes. My exterior was stoic. My demeanor calm, and very collected. I even managed a shrug and uttered the ever expressive, "Meh." Inside, however, where my soul bangs it's head against the wall of my existence, this was my true feeling:

"Mama, make it stop!"

I, like many a regular Joe, believe that sports, in it's truest essence can be an exciting, competitive, cultural community builder. It allows a release from every day drudgery and provides watershed moments in history and the never ending human endeavour. I say this without hyperbole. The way sports grips us as a species, the competition between ourselves in an athletic arena, is probably one of the strongest bonding factors around. It is both historical document and pop culture phenomenon. Don't believe me? I bet you remember where you were when Joe hit that homerun. I don't even need to go into detail. You know what I'm talking about.

I have been watching sports for over 25 years now. That's longer than my girlfriend has been alive (I thank you). In 1985, I saw the Blue Jays win the AL East. I watched my first full Superbowl at the age of 8 and saw the Bears beat the Patriots. I was hooked. It was 1986 and I scrambled to find the teams to root, root, root for. Or I should say for them to find me. Most of my picks were geographical (Toronto Blue Jays, Toronto Maple Leafs...) but some took time. Here now is my list of teams I support in all the sports I care about:

Baseball-Toronto Blue Jays
Basketball-Toronto Raptors
Hockey-Toronto Maple Leafs
Football-Philadelphia Eagles
Soccer-Toronto FC, Liverpool FC, Leeds United

Yes, most of them are Toronto teams. What can I say, I'm a homer. And when these teams are winning, Toronto is a magical place to be. However, these teams do not win very often. For the purpose of my point, I am just going to focus on my North American teams. They allow me the most happiness when things are going well.

Now over the past 25 years let's calculate how many teams have won their respective league championships and compare to the teams I support. This will illustrate how close I am to giving up completely and doing yoga on a Sunday instead.

Baseball
Number of teams that have won championships: 17
My team: 2
(not a bad start)

Hockey
Number of teams that have won championships: 14
My team: 0
(duh.)

Basketball
Number of teams that have won championships: 7
My team: 0
(My team before the Raptors came was the Orlando Magic. Championships: 0)

Football
Number of teams that have won championships: 14
My team: 0
(They did get there once though. And got beat by fucking Tom Brady. I don't like that guy.)

So you see why I get upset and frustrated. All through my sports watching life, living in one of the biggest, most profitable sports cities in North America, with the only American team I chose to follow being just as rich and powerful as it's Torontonian counterparts, my teams combined are an impressive 2-51. Only one of my teams has won any kind of ring compared to the 51 others who have held the trophies aloft. Now I feel like crying again. And don't get me started on International Soccer. I'm edging toward the balcony already.

Many people have said that I take it too seriously. I don't think so. I think I'm at a point right now where I give it the right amount of consideration and self-investment. I'm not a fanatical, crazy, face-painter, but I rock the jerseys and I watch the games and I support teams that seem to do nothing to support their fans. The problem with Toronto is that we do that. We keep supporting. We are sports enablers to those rich owners and the fucking Teacher's Pension. So I'm taking it down a notch. No more buying tickets and stuff to support people that regularly kick us in the balls. It's a different kind of release now. I'm hanging on to these teams just enough to not be so distraught when they lose and to be legitimately able to celebrate when they win. Does that make me a fair-weather fan? Perhaps. But it's they only way to survive in this city if you want to maintain your sanity and involve yourself in Toronto sports. It took me 25 years to learn that. In another 25 years, one of my teams might surprise me and win something. It sounds funny but it's a reality. Welcome to my life.

Oh, and for the ladies...

You are so welcome.

Random Musings Stave 1...

I saw a wooden station wagon today.

I think bodies of water are the sluts of the natural world. After all, they're the only ones with crabs. BA-zing!

On the topic of bodies of water, do you think fish cry fresh water tears? I don't. Fish don't cry, idiot. They're way too fucking happy.

How pissed off are all the voiceover actors who paid for school and are out of work this week. Go stand on a corner idiots.

If reading is fundamental, writing is therefore essential.

I read the Bible the other day. Turns out, we did it.

Boogers.

Oh wait. That buzzer means it's time for the lightning round...

As I had mentioned in previous bloggings, I was recently really sick. I mean praying for death kind of sick. Well, maybe not praying for death, but definitely praying for something. Maybe it was praying for Russia to win the World Juniors in an emasculating Canada kind of way (cheers God!). Maybe I was praying to hear Nick Lachey say Whiffenpoofs just one more time. But I think it was more that the sheer boredom of catatonic illness made me long for the days when I remembered either being stimulated, or just being able to be.

Because of said malady, I was resigned to take root on the couch and fill my eyeholes with whatever moving pictures I could grab. I made the decision to go against the grain and try something new. Instead of the warm, sweet embrace of movies I had seen before and was therefore in no danger of not enjoying, I thought, "Hey let's try some new ones. The eight gallons of Neo-Citron will kick in anytime and I'll probably just get the Universal logo and the end credits. Let's go!" Oh you sweet fool.

Here now are very quick reviews of the movies I viewed during my break from wellness. Please understand that some of them are a couple of years old so I'm not gonna be making many original insights. This is just what I thought of the group of films I chose to watch. And I was sick so my choices might be questionable. But get off my back! Like you never made bad movie choices. I was working with what I had.

1) The Happening

This is a shit movie. The trailers looked pretty interesting but this is a shit movie. The story is weak and it's a shit movie. Zooey Deschanel is wasted. And for some reason, Marky Mark's acting coach told him years ago that panting as you deliver every line is Oscar-worthy. This is a shit movie.

2) Hancock

Starts well. Kinda interesting. I'll never buy Will Smith as a drunk. I actually think in his videos he pours Kool-Aid on bitches, not Dom P. And that's only if they're on fire. Jason Bateman is awesome in everything. The ending sucks and makes no sense. Had potential. Never delivered. I then got drunk. I bought that.

3) I Am Legend

Good performance. Until he fucking killed the dog. I didn't recover. Started rooting for the vampires.

4) The Village

I liked it. I thought it was pretty solid. However, I kept waiting for Joaquin to start rapping. I like that Bryce Dallas Howard chick though. She's kinda hot. Good little actress too. I wonder if there's another film with her in it that I could watch...

5) The Lady in the Water

...oh there's one! This movie was the worst piece of shit since The Back-up Plan. I hated it. I not only hated it, I resented it. I resented it because it made me remember that I had seen The Back-up Plan when I instinctively made the comparison. Sorry Shyamalamalamalan, you're dead to me.

6) Good Hair

A little light docko to break up the monotony. I shouldn't have been entertained by this movie. It had 4 things I cannot relate to: 1. Being black 2. Being a woman 3. Being a black woman 4. Having hair. All that said, I thought it was pretty interesting and I done learned stuff! I recommend.

7) Invictus

I think the only person happier than Nelson Mandela when he was released was Morgan Freeman's agent. I honestly think that if Mandela wanted to disappear for a while, Morgan could step in and nobody would notice. Also, I know 20% more about rugby than when I started. I think that brings me up to about 13% knowledge.

8) Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs

I like animation alright?!! And so do you. This movie was great and funny and well done and great. I should never judge a cartoon before I see it. I do it every time and every time I'm proven wrong. It's fun as shit and you should watch it. Well, maybe drugs might have had something to do with it. But I was sick okay?! Try and tell me that some of the best movie experiences you've ever had were without the assistance of some narcotic. That's what I thought.

So I think that's it. I could be wrong, I was praying a lot then remember? I might have missed a few but anyway, those were the ones my mind decided to keep in the ol' filing cabinet (Note: That phrase only works perfectly if you envision me gesturing to my head whilst saying it). So, as you can see, I have many better films to watch over the coming year. I'm always open to suggestions and recommendations. I will keep you abreast of any and all so don't you worry your ol' filing cabinets about that.

Deuces

Quick plugola...

Over the holidays I took part in two things that made me very happy and unexpectedly fulfilled. The first one was a book that was recommended by the person that knows me the best in this area. The second was a documentary that I never really felt inclined to watch until one boring evening, sick on the couch in the basement. Either way, both of these items need to be watched and read by you if you haven't already. That's really something you should do.

Anthony Kiedis' book is one of the best rock autobiographies I've ever read. I've never been a huge fan of the Chili Peppers but I've always been aware of them and have found their music enjoyable for the better part of 20 years now. I mean "Under the Bridge" alone got me through Grade 8. But this is an uncensored look at a man who seems to have not only come to terms with the life he has led, but now has gotten to the point where he's reporting it back, in detail, without apologies or shame. The music takes a back-seat to the music scene and the copious drug use but it didn't end up disappointing me at all. The story was engaging and the narrative was empowering. It is also a miracle this man is still alive. I don't feel so bad now for that joint I smoked last week. Read it. I am now a somewhat fan of the band and it's frontman. (Note: searched for picture of this cover by going to Google Images and typing in "Scar Tissue." Do not do that. Seriously. Disgusting.)

Another surprise was how amazing this movie and this band is. I had heard three things about Rush in my life: 1) "Tom Sawyer" 2) "YYZ" 3) If Jesus had a band, Neil Peart would be the drummer. So what made me want to sit through this docko about a band with a weird looking, helium-sucking castrato bassist, a milquetoast guitarist, and Drummy McBangiddyBap? Not just because they're from Canada, but I guess there was a part of me that was always kind of intrigued by their appeal. Because let's face it, whenever you meet a Rush fan, they are a RUSH FAN! Also, I saw Alex Lifeson in one of my favourite episodes of Trailer Park Boys so I gave it a whirl. An amazing film about the lowest-key big rock band ever (if that makes any sense). They were probably the most boring trio to ever tour. However, they had the most musical talent, artistic integrity, conceptual courage, and insane work ethic of any band over the last 40 years. No understatement there. I immediately downloaded "La Villa Strangiato" after viewing and am consistently amazed that there are really only three of them. I am now a fan. See this if you like music.

That's it.
Bye.

2011...now what?

Happy New Year. Auld Lang Syne. Prospero Ano. Yippee, Huzzah, and accompanying horn-like sounds from those little horn-like things. For some reason, the clock ticking to midnight on Jan 1st, is an annual excuse for bacchanalia. It is a quick moment in time that universally allows people to fill their seemingly hopeless and mundane existence with thoughts of extreme and magical promise that could encompass the next 365 days. Such thoughts could only happen but once a year. Only then, for one second, could we possibly delude ourselves to believe that we are going to do anything really substantially different then a second ago, simply because we are now in the process of physically push-pinning a new kitten calendar in the existing hole on the wall. I'm not trying to be negative but it is a fairly strange and almost assuredly disappointing way to begin a so-called new chapter in one's life. It is such a typical human thing to do, especially nowadays. Let's begin the year by putting as much pressure on ourselves as possible so we can cement the fact that New Year's Eve will officially be the last night we truly enjoy this year. I see it every year. I do it every year. The best party coupled with the hardest hangover. Not only do we wake up feeling like shit, but now we gotta do shit too!

The promise...

...the reality.

Now, I don't, for one instant, begrudge anyone trying to better themselves or do anything positive. I don't think that January 1st, (your year here), is necessarily a stupid or unreasonable time to create certain plans to make such changes. It's just when I hear some of the outlandish expectations people put on themselves for the coming year, I wonder if it's because they feel guilty for having that 17th jager-bomb on Dec 31st, and therefore must be flogged daily with the cat o' nine tails of disappointment. You can do things, great things this year, but don't say: "I'm gonna get a degree, lose 125 pounds, get married, find a new job (that I love), and do a lot of charity work." All of these are outstanding things to want to accomplish, however, let's put it in perspective. If you did somehow manage TWO of these things, you could probably consider it the best year you, or anyone you've ever known might have had. It's great to have aspirations and ambitions, but the more attainable you make them, the better year you will have. I used to do the exact same thing and if by the Ides of March my life wasn't completely turned around, the rest of my year went to shit.

So this New Year's Eve I said "No more!" Well actually, it sounded more like "AAHMM DDRRUNCK!!" but the idea was to not let myself let myself down again. Therefore, I give you my very reachable goals for the new year. 2011, watch your ass!

1. Finish year with at least $201.00 in savings account.

I currently have $200.00 in my savings account. Therefore, with very minimal effort, I can be at least a little better off than I was at the beginning. See how good this is going so far?

2. Lose 1 pound a month.
If I can accomplish this, I will be exactly 12 pounds lighter come December. That would put me exactly where I would like to be. Or, I guess where I should be. Or, I don't know, I just don't want to grunt when I get out of a chair anymore.

3. Watch at least 1 new movie a week.

I was sick recently and I realized after watching 3 Will Smith's and the entire M. Night Shyamalalalalaladingdonglnnnalanan collection (which made me sicker somehow) that there is definitely enough time in a week to spend being entertained by a minimum of 1 film, even though I spent the better part of a week not being entertained by any. Gonna make better choices too.

4. Drink water.

I don't. I should. Why not? S'good, no?

5. Get my passport.

It's been 5 years since my passport expired and I have a girlfriend who wants to go on vacation frequently. Plus, I think you need it just to get into Buffalo now don't you? So, I guess I should get it. And then take her to Buffalo. No, not even Buffalo. Tonawanda! No, not even Tonawanda. North Tonawanda!!! We're comin' Irv!!

6. Holla at the Fam at least once a week.

Everybody's everywhere. But still, regardless of other goings on in our separate lives, we live in an age where a mere acknowledgment of a friend or family member takes seconds and is readily available at any time. Once a week is not too much to do.

7. Read a book every 2 months.

Attainable, enlightening, entertaining, and booky. Couldn't think of another adjective. I should read more.

8. LOOK for a new job.

I'm not gonna put pressure on myself to actually GET a new job The pursuit alone kinda entails that attaining a new job is the idea. Just the mere search at this point will be enough to make my current job just a little more bearable. And who knows? Maybe the search will bear fruit. Maybe literally. Maybe I'll get a job in an orchard. Free apples. Okay, this one's my favourite so far.

9. WRITE!!!

See above.

And finally...

10. Try not to fuck up as much as you did in 2010.

Now this doesn't mean that I spent 2010 fucking up. No more than anyone else. No less either. It just basically means, try not to be any stupider than last year. Always learn from mistakes of yours and others. Just maintain. Don't shoot the moon. Just maintain, idiot. Be better and don't be the things that annoy you in other people. Be smarter, funnier, happier, nicer, more helpful, more focussed, more reliable, more considerate, and a little closer to that person you ultimately want to be. Sounds like a tall order I know, but it's always the smallest gestures and actions that lead to the most progress and growth. Day by day, and thought by thought. That's my 2011. Living in the moment while trying to make it better.

Good luck this year guys. I wish you all the successes that will lead you to happiness.

I'll check in on you from time to time.

Sean

Yeah I'll stand on guard for thee...all my shit's here anyway

Patriotism. What is it? What does it mean? Who gets it right? Where are my pants? All very valid and complicated questions. Also, these are questions I believe the masses should maybe invest a little more time in solving. For most, it seems to be a very simple and straightforward concept. They seem to grasp the ideal and run with it because they feel the have to. They raise flags, sing anthems, and pledge allegiances so as not to upset the apple cart. A fallacy methinks and a dangerous one at that.

Now, before I continue, let me just say that I am a very happy and content individual to have been born and bred in possibly one of the best countries on the planet. The atmosphere is pretty non-stressful, the people and their ideals are second to none, the weather is eclectic and character building, and the taxes, though steep, provide a very strong and responsible infrastructure for a healthy and tolerant existence. So overall, I'm very happy. Proud, not really. Incredibly lucky? You betcha. I'm lucky to have been born here. To be able to reside and grow here. But all the above perks of living in Canada had very little to do with me. Almost zero (taxes notwithstanding). So, how can I really be proud?

Pride, for me anyway, comes from a sense of personal accomplishment. If I created the first leopard print Snuggie or some sort of Giraffe turtleneck, then yes, I would be peacocking on a regular basis (and with good reason!). But to say I'm proud to be Canadian? No, sir. Sorry. Pride just isn't the right word. I'm happy that I'm Canadian. I most likely wouldn't want to be anything else when it comes to countries of origin. But pride has nothing to do with it. Luck and serendipity do. (Serendipity do! That's fun to say.)

Why do you have to automatically be proud of where you're from? Why do you have to represent without question? This blinds you from seeing the things that are wrong, need changing, and could make the place you're from so much better. The way some Canadians carry on about how they think Canadians should be as "patriotic" as Americans are baffles me. Why? What should they be so proud about? The decline of their country? The ignorant way their citizens are treated by their government? Being a powerful and influential country that fucks things up on the regular? Put the flags down, halt the parades, extinguish the fireworks, and make things better. That's true patriotism. If you love your country, help her out. I know people who's main sense of country pride lies in the sunny beaches and warm climate of their home country. Never mind that the children carry uzis and that the poverty rate is upwards of 80%. Hey we've got palm trees. Look at them! I'm wearing shorts in February!! What a paradise. Or places where the history is eons old. Just look at our old churches! Shame that our subtle racism is alienating almost half our population now. But churches look! Old ones!!

Come on people. What's with all of this misplaced pride and swagger? Is it overcompensation? Or maybe it's segregated societies needing something to feel overly good about. Let's try a little humility for a change. It's more fundamentally human and it definitely affects more positive changes. If you need to take pride in something, take pride in the pursuit of making the countries we love into what they can be. Let's take pride in the differences we've made and problems we've corrected not just because of our geographical station. That's my definition of patriotism. Where even the smallest contribution should be worthy of a flag wave or two. Let's show the world what great places we've made of our countries because we're happy and we care. Now that's true patriot love. That would be something to be proud of.

Good night, sweet squirrel...

(Coming home for Thanksgiving on Monday, I accidentally hit a squirrel while driving and ended his life. Regardless of all the road kill I have observed over the years, this was the first and only time I had contributed to the pavement graveyard. It's still affecting me. Therefore, this is a eulogy to the poor, unfortunate animal I sent off to rodent heaven.)

Dear Mordecai (this is what I named him),

I write this and you are gone. Please understand that it was never my intention to end your time on this plane of existence. Your life and being was just as important as mine and I believe that your stature and lack of understanding of large motor vehicles and the destruction they can cause was neither your fault nor your responsibility. I only wish you had thought better of dashing across Finch Avenue just as my car was proceeding eastward.

I can't say I know why you did this. I like to think that it was the actions of an animal who was at the end of his rope. I like to think that it was an intentional move spurred on by an unhappy life, maybe a tumultuous existence, or perhaps a depressing time of year (the holidays can be rough on us all). At least then I could envision that my unintentional snuffing out of your acorn gathering life was not so much a tragedy but a cure for your sadness. The fluffy tail sometimes does not tell the full story and although the sadness this scenario evokes is still very substantial, I might be able to come to terms with the fact that I might have helped in some small way. If this is the case I guess I can be happy that even though I warned you from the inside of my vehicle: "Fuck off squirrel. Don't do it idiot. Don't...don't...DON"T. AHHH you little fucker!", you still chose me to be your rescuer from the torment of life in the trees.

All this being said Mordecai, I wish you a peaceful, restful afterlife. May the place your little soul has been carried to be free from dogs and other strange and pointless predators. May the nuts flow like wine and the treetops be tall and branchy. May winter never come and summer never leave. And may the opportunity to run up to the side of any road, pause for a second, wait for a car to come along to kill you, run out underneath it's tires, make the driver a murderer, and end up the main ingredient in a redneck's thanksgiving stew, never appear. May your rolling carcass on the road continue the journey up to paradise.

I'm sorry my furry friend. Farewell and Goodbye.

P.S.

My car is now making a fucked up noise and I'm pretty sure it has something to do with your skull bouncing off my undercarriage you little bastard!

Mordecai the idiot
?-2010