Alternatives

In other dimensions the sport of “Track and Field” is vastly different from our dimension’s version. 

In Dimension 7, the sport is played in teams of two with one player acting as the “hunter/pusher”, and the other the “prey/chomper”. 

The prey is released into the wilds, getting a two hour head start before the hunters starting tracking their teammate using a variety of methods. One popular method is to have the prey poo as much as possible allowing the hunter to sniff ‘n find, utilizing months of smell training. This regimen sees the prey eating the same, unique meal every day, pooing as much as possible and having the hunter work on his or her sniffs, memorizing specific stinks unique to the prey. 

Once the prey is tracked and caught, the two person team makes their way to the field where they must form a human mow. The prey must eat all the grass in his or her segment and the first to do so wins the blue bib. 

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Those in the background are all chewing a popular dimensional treat – pool water thickened with corn starch

My Hell

I.

Toronto and most of continental united eastern provinces are in the midst of a heat event that can only be described as “shit!”. Summer is great and all but if summer is your favourite steak that is delicious and perfectly satisfying, then this heat wave is a live cow that you have to eat whole while farmers with pockets full of antihistamine throw hay at you because they know all about your allergies. “Eat that skin, eat that spleen, then we lower your histamine” they scream in unison as the sun sets on the fourth day of the feast.

II.

The other day I contracted a sunburn because I was irresponsible while enjoying some rays from our favourite star, so the hot humid heat has been penetrating my already burnt skin like a greased weasel through an olive oil field. But fuck me, right? I should’ve been much more vigilant on creaming myself and being of Scottish descent, sunburns are as much a part of my life as not knowing how to build a car.

III.

But today I found myself with a rather nasty case of diarrhea, which when added to the mix makes me feel like I’m in actual Hell, albeit the best part of Hell where humidity, a sunburn and diarrhea isn’t so bad. But like, it’s bad for me on Earth, you follow? Maybe when you reach First Class Hell you get to choose from three different packages:

Package A

Diarrhea
Sunburn
Humidity

Package B

Sore throat
Ice room
Nude

Package C

Back ache
No bed
Heaviest toilet seat

butt

Not exactly what I’d use a computer for, but this doctored image sort of sums things up

River of Conciousness

chustice and rustice blowing down everything they see while trailing behind a big dog. From my perspective we were weasels, in search of something we didn’t know existed. Until tomorrow we never know what’s going to happen especially to jer although she sleeps like crazy until cows milk turns black. Black milk, I wouldn’t wish it on my eldest grasshopper unless it was signed sealed and delivered by the queen herself. I’m doing this and it feels good but I’m not sure it will work in helping me tell stories. They say it’s good to just get anything down on paper. Maybe I should try real paper. Is this faster than paper? can you type faster than you write? Probably not, though some people can write really fast, but not in the old days, every piece of writing was good calligraphy. Did chicken scratch even exist back then? No i guess not beacuse paper costed as much as a flock of hens probably and ink was make of I don’t know, berries or pig blood. Back to the stream. One day we’ll find ourselves asking “what happend to uncle timby” and the next thing you know it’ll be christmas. I’m scared im thinking about this too much. Going back and fixing spelling erros really slows the flow, I don’t think I’m supposed to do that. I like that word “erros”, sounds like the name of a band from one of the smaller provinces. Those two quotations and the comma were really a bump in the road. to get that last sentence I had to re-read the sentence before which I think is cheating, but why should this exercise be limited to people who can type fast? ah well, bring it on birdie and don’t skip the sauce. does anything count as conciousness? Should I go and erase all that stuff about fixing errors? am i supposed to go back and read this later or should I just consider it exercise, like after you’re done lifting weights do you forget about it or go back over every curl in your mind while you’re eating a well balanced meal post workout by yourself in your condo while your untrained dog you bought purely for looks looks bored. I wonder if chefs do this with recipes. Dinner is so soon. Okay, this is just me thinking regularly now, I gotta get weird again, I think that’s the point. party time in pick town with lolloy sue and the gaggle girls, ready to do what they were put on this earth to do – sell pillows and make sure everything stays cold. I had a thought but I paused and I lost it.It was poignant too. Words like poignant slow the typing. Maybe this is the idea right here. A free form writing exercise where the guy slows down and it goes to shit. I could submit it to the new yorker. would they even look at it? Punctuation, that stops the flow too. Ah geez.  Oh boy what a wonder a five foot hight girl with unstoppable letters and charms. Instead of mud this ear , oh god I always talk about mud, why can’t my mind get off it for a second. Mud, soup, and Harry Belfonte songs, always in my head. okay, i really thought about that last one. I wanted to think of a song. STREAM COMPLETE.

Moving gifts

Ever since I decided to starting posting cute little articles to this website instead of my old one, I’ve received a lot of feedback. Some of it is quite positive and encouraging, including a postcard from a well-known football coach who wished me well and promised to send me his wife’s recipe for baked liquorice in time for the fifth edition of “Recipoos – Homestyle Favourites and Chunky Treats”, which I curate in support of zit prevention. Others were not so positive but I don’t want to give these people the attention they desire. Okay fine, one lady told me if I didn’t revert back to the old ways she’d ensure my feet never see another pair of shoes again.

Of course my favourite form of support is the gift. Humans have sought “gifts” ever since the aliens introduced the concept when they brought us wood. We ate it for several hundred years until we realized it works better as a material to build guitars; the ones made of mud and skunk hide fell out of tune too easily. Here are some of the wonderful things I’ve been given:

Dominic from The Eastern Ridge must be a huge fan to have remembered I HATE appetizers, as he sent me this great bracelet that lets waiters know that my body is a No Appetizers, Please Zone. I’m not exactly sure what the bear represents because bear meat is traditionally served as a dessert, but it sure is cute and makes me think of all the fangs I’ve collected over the years.

My friends Arnold, Bessie and Wet Peter from Christmas Tree, Manitoba pose around a custom fake cake they sewed together in their one bedroom closet. Each of their creations are filled with back issues of your favourite magazines and come in one of five different scents: computer fan, new plastic, dingy tarp, raspberry blossom, or burnt banana.

One of my top aunts sent this fantastic CG render of the Nazmaxx Shard we found together while on our vacation to the beach two summers back. She must have remembered how upset I got when we found that the shard, which we threw in the ocean when it started stealing our memories, neutralizes all electronic devices within fifty feet, making it impossible to photograph. Until I received the rendering, the only visual I had of the shard was what I saw of it in my nightmares, which were vivid depictions of my family falling in love with it whilst throwing old eggs at me.

At first I didn’t know what this thing was, but when I watched the accompanying DVD made by ten-year-old fan Bart, I was quite moved to learn it represents my entire career up until this point.

The sands of time are all over me

Last weekend as we were lying in bed, arguing over whose turn it was to brush the tooth, my wife noticed a grey chest hair that belonged to me, not her. I’ve had grey hairs on my head, face and cat, but this new development means the migration south is fully on. Next stop: an attack on my waist hair, which is the polite way of saying pubes I guess.  It was a real wake up call, both literally  (in that it gave me the pep to get up bake some fresh cereal) and figuratively, as up until then I had never really felt very old despite being Flirty Fun Thirty One. I’ve resisted aging up until now by playing the electric guitar naked when no one’s home and by keeping up to date with the latest Mountain Dews. But it might be time to give it all up and just accept that I’m too old to still be wrapping my family’s Christmas presents in old sweatshirts that I need back once the present is unwrapped.

I bet he’s going to Church

Going from boy to man to grandpa to financial burden is rife with contradictions, making a clean transition next to impossible. For example, my boy mind isn’t interested in shaving because he’s used to being baby smooth and hates doing anything that doesn’t involve the couch and some sort of treat, so the man-me simply elects not to most of the time. But by not shaving I grow facial hair, making me look like a full man,  someone who wouldn’t be out of place yelling at his baby.

I’m sort of worried that my head doesn’t match my style anymore, due to the greys and the slow uncovering of my naked head combined with my propensity for fresh looks. So if you’re friends with me, please tell me if I look like an undercover cop or one of those rich dads who never wears socks and owns a bunch of hats emblazoned with luxury car companies.

I could’ve saved myself a lot of time by not writing anything and just posting this picture

Movie Review – Fast & Furious 6

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Paul Walker stars

Fast & Furious 6 is the latest in a series of films about cars and the men and women who use them for everything but transportation.

Former wrestler and current mainstay at MTV- based award shows, Dwayne “A Rock” Johnson plays some sort of law enforcement official named Hobbs who’s having a whale of a time tracking down “Shaw”, a really smart hunk who is really good at crime and making cars that are better than regular ones. While investigating the bad guy, Hobbs realizes that one of Shaw’s teammates is Vin Diesel’s wife (Michelle Rodriguez) who had died in part 3 or something. He convinces Vin Diesel to ditch his new girlfriend and their lavish oceanside Spanish villa to get his old wife back and save the world too. But he can’t do it alone because there are too many favourites in the series to simply ignore. He convinces Paul Walker to ditch his wife, oceanside Spanish villa and newborn baby boy and join the mission, then puts in phone calls to the rest of the gang: Tyrese Gibson, Ludacris, an Asian guy with great hair and an Israeli supermodel, who are all living great lives thanks to all the money they made killing the last bad guy. But hey, when your friend asks you to help him find his dead wife who happens to be in cahoots with the world’s most dangerous man, you drop everything fast and furiously.

What follows is two hours of fights that leave combatants un-cut, shootouts that leave our heroes un-shot, and car chases that result in thousands of civilian casualties.  All the while Vin Diesel works very hard to refresh the memory of Rodriguez, who contracts a mean case of amnesia when she almost died that one time.

vind

 I’d say this film was well worth the money I paid to sit in front of it because it was full of the kind of shit that make movies fun to go see, which in this case included a tank chase, a plane chase, computer screens with maps and bar graphs on them and a post-credit sequence starring British-born actor Jason Statham. There were also some great quotes that reminded me of the dialogue I’d make-up in my head when I’d play with actions figures as a child. Here are some:

Paul Walker: Letty is dead Dom.
Vin Diesel: I need to know for sure.
Paul Walker: Then I’m going with you.

Vin Diesel: [Hands over the microchip to Hobbs] So this is worth billions.
Rock: [Smiles] Name your price, Dom.

[Long pause]

Vin Diesel: [Referring to his old address in Los Angeles, which is a piece of shit in East L.A.] 1327.

Rock: If you want to catch a wolf, you need a wolf.

Go see Fast & Furious 6 if you don’t care about what your smart friends think of you, or if you want to impress a girl who is new to North America. I’d give this movie a multi-star high five out of ten.

Video

Moustached Men

If you want to see me act with a real deal lip tickler, please watch the video that my man Brian Barlow made. And watch out for me this fall playing Michael Soups on NBC’s Chunk Bunkers.

Join Me Again

weirdal

I bet you $100 that last year’s March 13th wasn’t very good for you. It was a Tuesday and you probably wanted mama’s special for dinner but your spouse made broccoli and raisin sour mash instead. In 2013 I give you the opportunity to live the March 13th of your dreams with the second edition of Weird Al Karaoke as part of Toronto SketchFest. It’s at 10:30pm and features some of my favourite, real friends singing original parodies. Last time I sang a parody of “Sad But True” called “Bad Beef Stew”. As a special treat, here are the never before published lyrics:

Hey, I’m your chef
I’m the one who cooks your food
Hey I’m your chef
I’m going to make a stew
Oh no, I’m out of salt  
And I’m out of potatoes
Oh well, heat the pot
It’s almost dinner time

I’m your steam, cooks the veal
I’m your beets that you must peel
I’m the man who cooks your meal, bad beef stew
I’m your steam, big buffet
I’m your beets cook them all day
I am friends with Bobby Flay
You know it’s bad beef stew

You YOu you’re my boss
You’re my only employer
You you you’re my boss
You’re the one who pays
Do do do my best
Do my best when I make food
Do Do Do my job but this meal isn’t good.

I’m your steam that cooks the veal
I’m your beets that you must peel
I’m the man who cooks your meal, bad beef stew
I’m your steam, big buffet
I’m your beets cook them all day
I am friends with Bobby Flay
You know it’s bad beef stew

I’m your steam
I’m your beets
Bobby Flay
I’m your steam
I’m your beets
Bobby Flay
You know it’s bad beef stew

Wait, Wait, Don’t eat that
Don’t eat the stew it’s garbage
I’m I’m I’m ashamed
it’s made with rotten beef
Hey Hey I’m your chef
I’m the one who cooked your stew
Hey Hey, I’m your chef please don’t fire me

I’m your steam that cooks the veal
I’m your beets that you must peel
I’m the man who cooks your meal, bad beef stew
I’m your steam, big buffet
I’m your beets cook them all day
I am friends with Bobby Flay
You know it’s bad beef stew

Join Me

I’ll be debuting a brand new show called WEIRD AL KARAOKE on January 4th at 10:00pm in Toronto’s Comedy Bar. It’s part of the Festival of New Formats meaning it’s FREE. The show will feature some of my favourites (and me) performing original parody songs. I’ve wanted to do this for awhile and now it’s happening. Do dreams come true? No! I had a dream two nights ago where I hugged both Mels from the Spice Girls. Yeah right that’ll happen. Silly ideas come true though. See you there!

I’m Soaking Wed

Well, I’m about as married as a guy can get without being one of those guys who gets married a lot. Everything went great including the honeymoon in Hawaii where nothing funny happened. It was all mushy and sexy.

Anyway, now that I’m officially shackled to a pretty lady, my career in doing whatever it is this is will continue. I’ve already stormed out of the gate with a few new blog entries.

Stay tuned for fun, games and free sharks teeth if you visit this page more than 6 times in the month of Halloween. You’ll have to then send me a message so I can validate you. Then you’ll receive a catologue of available chompers. Send an order form within 60 days as well as a $49.95 convenience fee and you should receive your prize by whenever.