Today I went shopping through the streets of downtown Montreal. By 'shopping', I mean running in and out of stores to avoid the rain. At one point, I had to run into a string of stores equivalent to La Senza. I'm not sure if I mastered this maneuvre without looking like a pervert.
It has been over a week and I'm still sore from last Tuesday's gym excursion. I take this as a sign that I'm a unique specimen, one that needs exercise only once every three years, as that is when I plan on healing.
As you can see, I have not been able to keep up the Marathon chase, which was posting every single day this month. In fact, you'll realize that there was no Freestyle Sunday yesterday either. This is because I'm great.
To properly illustrate this greatness, I will update Freestyle Sunday today, on Monday.
This weekend has been both bittersweet, packed, and relaxing. Every day was different. Difficult for even I to believe, there was a day when I didn't even turn on my computer.
Someone came by the site today under the query "titanic poo pickle".
I have nothing to say about that.
I am still sore from my work-out at Gold's Gym on Tuesday. Presently, I cannot sneeze or lift my arms above my head without it hurting. Anyway, I think the first thing we all need to admit about the gym is that it's gross. There's sweat, grime, and what I think to be armpit gunk everywhere. Going to the gym, therefore, is just like public shower stalls; you do it for the sake of your health, but, also for your health, you never want to stay too long.
I was in Montreal tonight for my friend Calvin's Bachelor party; it was a lot of fun -- which means that when I get married, I will have no such thing. Calvin, being a good sport, ran around downtown Montreal all made up with stockings, a Speedo, and a very restricting, hot-red halter-top. When I get married, I intend to notify all my friends the morning of the wedding.
Tomorrow morning, I leave for Montreal. I'll be on the train for five hours and, with no electrical plug to keep my laptop powered, I don't know what I'm going to do with myself. I took this route all the time when I was at McGill; though, at the time, I think I had a handy fascination with my forearm hair.
Tonight, I'll be going to Gold's Gym. Maybe. I've already backed out the past three times my friends called, and I've exhausted my list of excuses; I'm down to "My hair is a disaster."
Some of you may have noticed that I have been posting something here every single day. This would have been a Marathon Month, had I not neglected to post something June 1. But, seeing that this is, to me, a mild feat, I'll continue to post something even when I have absolutely nothing to say. Yay!
In following with this mindless theme, I found a picture of myself from several years ago. The conclusion is that I haven't changed at all since I was eighteen. In fact, those yellow jogging pants have had a surprisingly long life -- I was wearing them last summer at the Vybe Concert. The pants are not without a story.
Freestyle Sundays is going strong with a fourth installment in the Media section. Week Five may feature a solo venture, where I address topics written to me through this site's email account. I'll be travelling to Montreal in the coming week, so keep in mind this might not happen.
Last Thursday's post in Irrefragable received some hatred from two people who thought that I was comparing all female strength to that of a three-month-old baby with a cold. I didn't mean to imply this; I was trying to say my friends wanted me to arm-wrestle girls because.. they couldn't.. find.. feverishly weak three-month-old babies..
I played basketball today and I realize that, though I may not look like a three-hundred pound ball of lard, my reflexes, stamina, and overall flexibility are all deeply rooted in this belief. I maintain, however, that I was able to dribble circles around Willy. I had to traverse the perimeter of the court, while he stood somewhere in the middle oblivious, to do so. You know, the same way I could say I 'kicked that guy's butt' by nudging his rear with the end of my shoe gently so that he doesn't notice. When you suck, this is a great way to go through life.
I almost forgot that tomorrow is Freestyle Sunday and I have to mix one of our freestyles. There's been a plan to make these things more interactive, by way of people emailing in topics they want to hear us rap about. Think about it and let me know,
Approached by an ad agency for the Bell Olympics campaign a couple of days ago, Ep and I were invited to record a Team Canada Cheer 'in freestyle', which, as I've come to realize of those who aren't emersed in rap culture, is a language. In any case, click the picture for the 38 second video clip, which is an acapella freestyle showcasing how neither Ep or I know where the camera lens is.
It has come to my attention that a Google Search on Count Chocola has me coming up in first place, which would explain a recent surge of visitors. How Count Chocola has found himself a new home at adrianfung.com is yet another question. I mean, I like the Count and all, but not that much.
Cocoa is now recovering from an overnight surgery last night, and we're thankful that they didn't find a cancerous tumour in the suspicious mass in his abdomen. Thanks to those who prayed for Cocoa and his continued recovery.
Tomorrow, we'll have a video segment up in Media. Details of why and what it is will follow. Don't worry: Nothing to do with surgeries.
Recently, I heard that Mattel has reshaped Barbie's body. I'm not sure why. Mattel reported that her boobs stayed the same, her waist was a little bigger, and her hips even smaller. From what I remember of my sister's dolls, that would make her torso roughly the shape of a freshly sharpened pencil. Which, as we know, is very attractive. So all you pre-teen girls can stop eating food and start eating woodchips! Yay!
Thanks to those who have messaged me with prayers and encouragement: The vet called and thinks the problem is more complicated and has delayed surgery for a day of research purposes and squinty-eyed posturing.
At nine in the morning tomorrow, Wednesday, my dog Cocoa will undergo surgery. People who don't have dogs may not understand the emotional gravitas involved. The best way I can explain it is that it's not 'just a dog'; he's a bundle of energy and personality, generous and quick to forgive. My friends who visit know Cocoa as the most enthusiastic member of my canine greeting party, always ready to show off his doggie toys and his adorable two-inch underbite.
Our city has enjoyed consistent sunshine and nice weather. Taken Friday night, I was in a parking lot on top of our Plymouth Voyager. I suppose standing on the ground and using the zoom lens would have been just as effective, but doing things smart and efficiently are decidely not my style.
epideMIC's coming Wednesday; we're going to record a few more freestyles and a quick song. I've written at length about how red Ep's face gets when he's rapping, how the protruding veins on his forehead are visible from distant planets, and -- this is a secret -- I'm going to try getting a candid video of what I'm talking about a la Canon Powershot. Wish me luck,
As it's after 9:30, I realize my announcing Week Three for Freestyle Sundays is a little late. However, my day has been very busy and I just came back from playing a house concert in Oakville. My dog, Cocoa, is very sick and my mom and I had to take him to the emergency clinic this afternoon. I believe the worst is behind us, but it was nerve-wrecking at the time. In any case, here I am, the concert went well, and Freestyle Sundays has been up since yesterday. (You have to admit I'm very organized about somewhat trivial things.)
That's the news for today -- send a prayer up for my dog if you feel moved to do so. Thanks,
Someone told me that I'm third for a Google search on "writing artist biographies". Another told me that they came by for a "definition of an underwear wedgie". A hit came in yesterday for someone searching for: "how to say virgin korean". Finally, two people came under the query: "eminem's sideburns". I never fully addressed any of these topics seriously -- in fact, some of them I don't even remember mentioning. I figure those visitors leave in a huff when they find out Eminem's sideburns don't interest me at all. But I guess this is how my site generates traffic. The secret is to write about random things.
Tomorrow is Freestyle Sunday. I can just feel your eyes widening with yearning anticipation and sheer excitement.
I just got back from Brookview. I think the kids were very well-behaved, attentive, and inquisitive. As for me, I think focusing on the positive things is an immediate order; in which case, I'd like to point out how great the weather is today: the sun is shining, the clouds are fluffy and light, the sky is bluer than the Caribbean sea. (Clears throat.)
Greetings to those of you who are visiting from Brookview! If you're looking for the music video, click here; if you're interested in any other music, click here. Stay in school! Don't do drugs. And above all else, obey all applicable traffic signs.
Tomorrow, I will be speaking and rapping at a middle school in Rexdale. Seeing that this is my second speaking engagement this year to pre-high-school youth, I'm thinking that maybe God wants me to overcome this fear of speaking to them. After that one disaster with the 3-6 year olds, I mean, how can anyone recover? I still haven't written about the time I spoke to several pre-teen kids from Harlem in an after-school program. This is because I generally don't like to write about completely unfunny catastrophes.
I was invited to show the Hollow music video as well. Hollow is not an exciting song to begin with, and, judging by their reaction, I might as well have put up Dr. Zhivago.
I exercised today; I was on the treadmill in the basement. Did you know that if you walk for fifty minutes, you will have travelled three miles and burned over a hundred calories? A hundred calories sounds like a lot -- or at least enough to ward off the guilt that had gotten me on the treadmill in the first place. Besides, I was also reading while walking. I figure that burns another three thousand calories. Yes, I walked the whole time. If you ask me, sweat is overrated.
So was that book I was reading. Don't read English translations of Chinese mythology. It's enough to make you forget that the English language has such novel concepts as commas.
I was at Costco today, where the goal is to sell as many random things as possible inside a gigantic grey gym. On my way out, I noticed a poster offering a Costco Health Plan. Which is like paying for your groceries and having the cashier ask you, while wielding a toothpick and latex gloves, whether or not you'd like to also have your teeth cleaned. Costco sells everything from car tires to hot dogs. In the next few years, you'll be able to buy an Italian sausage with a side of minivan. There's nothing these guys won't do.
I wonder if I can sucker them into selling some Blunt Ethiks CDs near the frozen foods section.
I spent most of the day walking in downtown Toronto. Having spent nearly every weekend of my adolescence on Bloor Street and its surrounding area, I was happy to have trekked through other parts of the city that I had, up until then, seen mostly through a windshield. The streets off Yonge, for instance, are full of surprises, with all its bustling people, coffee shops, fine restaurants, and art venues. I noticed in particular charming little courtyard cafes, fenced and nestled quietly between buildings of red brick and stucco.
I thought this was neat: Taken at a small Italian eatery, where the balsamic vinegar and olive oil find themselves in one bottle.
The second installment of Freestyle Sundays is up today. It was the second session we did at epideMIC's house. I suppose the best thing about them would be his surprisingly well-timed insults at the end. I'm inclined to think that, on May 22, the only thing I got right was Ep's address.
Of course this never stops me from saying things like, "I'm the best" and "My rhymes are hot"; sometimes, my own confident audacity astounds me.
I hate to make the whole page now revolve around my facial hair, but I think, by next week, I'll have myself an electric razor again. Joanne showed me four Phillips shavers, and they ranged from $49.99 to $119.99. I went for the the fifty dollar one because there's no way I'm going to get the most expensive one, which has a manly name like, "Philishave Quadra 7 Superreflex Shaving System." That's like using a pair of garden shears to cut my fingernails. Frankly, if any of the Philishaves came in pink, it'd probably be the right one for me. My sister had bid for me on ebay: Phillips Sensotec. That thing looks dangerous man. Totally unnecessary: I mean I don't need a battle axe to cut my vegetables.
Okay, that's the last I talk about my facial hair this week.
Today, my moustache is even more wiry. So I was thinking that the madness must end. Joanne, as my fence for all things Shopper's Drug Mart, will look into wheeling and dealing me a new electric razor -- after, of course, the customary roast: "You don't NEED to shave." Anyway, I was planning on going to a drugstore and getting a Bic until next week.
You'll be happy to know that Sinh and William, who came by my house yesterday, both took an incredible amount of convincing that we should go out instead of stay at my home. I suspect it's because I looked like some kind of rodent.
What other news? Freestyle Sundays, Week Two, is coming up. Stayed tuned this weekend.
I broke my electric razor this morning in attempts to shave. If I'm not concentrating, I cannot perform everyday tasks without breaking something -- a mirror, a limb, etc. One might ask how much concentration it takes to hold onto something. I don't know. But I didn't have enough. It just fell from my hand, landed on the counter, and now it no longer works.
This is sad enough. But then I found out that an electric razor costs about a hundred dollars. The question, of course, is whether I should shell out the money or lose all my friends. I'm trying to decide whether this is a catastrophe in itself or just a minor disaster. Losing my friends, I mean.
As I type this, you should be happy that there is a keyboard, a monitor, and 50 000 feet of cable between you and me. We have not had hot water in our house for three days, which means I have not showered since Sunday night. The hot water repairman finally came yesterday; I took him down to the basement to show him the problem: judging by the water on the floor, there must have been a leak. He asked me, "Where is it leaking from?" in a way that made it seem like I was the one holding the wrench.
He couldn't fix it, though. Maybe he wasn't even a repairman. I wonder if I forced some guy who was just selling a toolbox into checking out the furnace room. Which would explain why my parents told me some repairmen are coming today. And begs the question: Who was thWhen can I shower?
The News Archive | Email
Some of you may have noticed that I have been posting something here every single day. This would have been a Marathon Month, had I not neglected to post something June 1. But, seeing that this is, to me, a mild feat, I'll continue to post something even when I have absolutely nothing to say. Yay! 
Approached by an ad agency for the Bell Olympics campaign a couple of days ago, Ep and I were invited to record a Team Canada Cheer 'in freestyle', which, as I've come to realize of those who aren't emersed in rap culture, is a language. In any case, click the picture for the 38 second video clip, which is an acapella freestyle showcasing how neither Ep or I know where the camera lens is.
At nine in the morning tomorrow, Wednesday, my dog Cocoa will undergo surgery. People who don't have dogs may not understand the emotional gravitas involved. The best way I can explain it is that it's not 'just a dog'; he's a bundle of energy and personality, generous and quick to forgive. My friends who visit know Cocoa as the most enthusiastic member of my canine greeting party, always ready to show off his doggie toys and his adorable two-inch underbite.
Our city has enjoyed consistent sunshine and nice weather. Taken Friday night, I was in a parking lot on top of our Plymouth Voyager. I suppose standing on the ground and using the zoom lens would have been just as effective, but doing things smart and efficiently are decidely not my style.
As it's after 9:30, I realize my announcing Week Three for Freestyle Sundays is a little late. However, my day has been very busy and I just came back from playing a house concert in Oakville. My dog, Cocoa, is very sick and my mom and I had to take him to the emergency clinic this afternoon. I believe the worst is behind us, but it was nerve-wrecking at the time. In any case, here I am, the concert went well, and Freestyle Sundays has been up since yesterday. (You have to admit I'm very organized about somewhat trivial things.)
I thought this was neat: Taken at a small Italian eatery, where the balsamic vinegar and olive oil find themselves in one bottle.