Tag Archives: Toronto

Word vomit

As I’ve mentioned before, I have little-to-no inner thought. I say most of what I think. This can be good, this can be bad, this can be embarrassing and sometimes, just sometimes this can be funny.

About five years ago I was at a party with people who grew up a little differently than I did. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had a comfortable, middle class life. I went to summer camp, went cottaging, sailing…bla bla bla. But the people I was hanging out with on this particular day grew up VERY comfortable. Like ‘never having to work a day in their lives if they don’t want to’ comfortable.

So, I was at this party, in this two floor massive penthouse right downtown having a grand ole time, you know; hobnobbing, drinking Absinthe, telling jokes, laughing on the patio…when I got a chill (it was December). Luckily, one of the nice fellows at the party offered me his blazer so I wouldn’t be so cold.

After standing around talking for a while, without thinking I reached into the pocket and pulled out a business card. I asked the owner of the coat what the card was for.

He responded: ‘Oh that’s for my new Ferrari I just bought’

So, without thinking or even blinking, I announced to the entire circle we were standing in that:

“Oh…I drive a 1990 Topaz. Want to trade?”

What’s that all about? It was 2005 and I’m telling someone who just bought a NEW Ferrari that I drive a 15 year old rustmobile? And to top it off, asked him if he wanted to trade. Smooth move Woodall. Smooth move. Needless to say, no one asked for my phone number that night.

Advertisements

Guest Post – Square on the penis

Hello All! I’m realizing now that I should have introduced Max. I think I thought that because he introduced himself, that I didn’t need to…so better late than never. Max is a very talented creative writer. From writing for his blog, writing ads for work, or writing comedy skits for NBA players, Max’s sense of humour is up there with the funniest of the funniest. I’m thinking we’ll be hearing lots about him later in his career; whether he ends up writing for SNL, writing for a sitcom, or just writing anything awesome, Max will take the comedic world by storm.

Square on the penis

Hello WTAA readers, my name is Max and I work/live close to Ms. what’s-that-all-about herself, which I must say, is fairly awesome. I recently experienced a very peculiar incident and thought it would be perfect to share on this weblog. And that is the end of my introduction.

Two weeks ago I went to meet some Aussie friends at a pub for a few drinks near Queen and Niagara. For those of you not from Toronto, this is a corner where you’re just as likely to cross paths with a disheveled homeless person as a young rich person with trendier sunglasses than you. The meeting went well (I’m almost certain I single-handedly facilitated a sloppy make-out between one of the young Aussies and a rather large woman) and seeing as it was past my bed time, I decided to head home. I started to walk west and just as I passed this slow-walking gaggle of women, my evening, and the dryness of my pants, drastically changed.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw a two-toned Audi TT speed down the empty street and then it happened: a full bottle of Aberfoyle water flew from the open window, past the gawking gaggle of women and hit me directly in the dick. Yes, someone threw a full bottle of water from a speeding car and hit me square on the penis.

What the eff is that all about?

So I’m standing there with this stain emanating from my junk region and a million thoughts run through my head. Actually, 5 thoughts ran through my head:

  1. Did I just get hit in the dick with a full bottle of water?
  2. If he was aiming at me, part of me can’t even be mad because that was an incredible throw. I mean, shit, I’m the type of guy who “beat” Duck Hunt by holding the gun right against the screen and this guy just hit the bulls-eye from 20 feet away whilst doing 60 in an uncomfortably low car.
  3. Are those chicks actually laughing at me? Because I was literally right beside them when it happened, meaning there’s a good chance they were the targets. Either way, they’re pretty ugly so I guess we all have our problems.
  4. Where are the police at when you need them? This was on the Thursday before the G20, meaning I literally saw over 150 police officers on that strip of Queen St. over a two hour span that night. Yet, when an actual act of  terrorism goes down (don’t dismiss that claim, my pants, penis and ego were terrorized) the only people to witness this 2-million-hit-worthy YouTube video are a gang of apparently mirror-less “ladies” who think Ke$ha is the next Madonna.
  5. My dick kinda hurts.

And that’s it. As I walked home, the water and anger slowly evaporated and I thought about how I was going to tell this story a hundred times the next day. Somehow, I only shared it a few times since but I’m happy to share it with you now. And so just in case you were wondering, that’s what getting hit in the dick with a full bottle of water is all about.

Oh yeah…we live together

I sent out a message to my Tweeter followers, asking for a little help on ideas for blog posts because they haven’t been coming to me as easily lately…seems as though I need to walk into another street sign or something.

When a girlfriend of mine msn’s me this:

  • 6 flirtatious hang-outs
  • 3 of them professional networking hangs
  • 1 scooter ride (included with one of the below dinners)
  • 2 three hour magical dinners
  • And…1 movie night

Turns out on movie night lover boy confessed that he had just moved in with his girlfriend. WTF – took six hangs to disclose this information? ASS!

This made me remember what happened to me a couple of Octobers ago:

When I was 19 I met a fellow who I had an on again/off again (mostly off again)  ‘relationship’ with for over seven years. In 2007 I decided that our entire relationship was unhealthy, and that I needed to call it quits.

Then, in 2009 I started to get emails from (for the sake of this post let’s call him Larry) him. Larry’s emails were friendly:

“How are you?”

“What’s going on in your life?”

“I’m in Toronto on business sometimes if you want to get together for dinner…”

At first I thought I shouldn’t meet him for dinner as I had cut Larry out of my life when I went through a state of cleansing my life of bad decisions. But then, I thought to myself ‘why not?’ we always had so much fun together, it would be nice to have a friendly (just friendly) catch up.

I didn’t want to make a bad decision with him…I just thought this was perfect.

He called me during the day to see where I wanted to go for dinner and then he suggested having dinner in the restaurant in his hotel.

Clearly, this was a horrible idea, so I suggested him coming to get me  and we could go to a restaurant downtown.

We ended up heading to the Bier Markt. The waiter came around to take our drink order. Larry ordered a beer and I ordered a double Belvedere on the rocks. I figured since a) I’m not trying to impress this guy to try and get a second date – this was our millionth , and b) it was a little creepy of him to suggest having dinner at his hotel –  I could order the exact drink that I wanted.

Next it was time to order dinner, since he ordered the steak (and that’s what I wanted) I ordered the steak…medium rare (but closer to rare then medium).

We chatted for a while, had some good laughs, I made a bunch of jokes at his expense, when finally I asked him if he was dating anyone.

His response – “Yeah..um, I wasn’t going to tell you this, but I bought a house, and live there with my girlfriend of …”

At that point I tuned him out, I think he said of 2 years or something like that.

Summary:

1) Random email to a girl you dated on and off for 7 years

2) Suggestion of a ‘dinner’

3) Suggestion of a dinner at the hotel

4) Oh yeah, you WEREN’T going to tell her about your girlfriend

What’s that all about? Maybe his intentions weren’t as tawdry as they came across, but come on…dinner in the hotel restaurant? How about a night cap to finish it off? And anyway, should these men not have disclosed this information sooner? Like right away? Drop a little ‘we’ statement in there?

Larry wasn’t even going to tell me he lived with his lady…that was mega shady. Regardless, I’m now a firm believer that if you a) have a girlfriend and/or b) live with your girlfriend – you need to confess ASAP, otherwise you come off as a douche!

A dare is a dare

Lesson of 2010 – just because someone dares you to do something, it doesn’t mean you have to do it.

Also, life isn’t Billy Madison and dares aren’t just about touching Veronica Vaughn’s boob.

3rd Grader: I dare you to touch her boobs.

Billy Madison: Touch her boobs? That’s assault brotha. You double dare me?

Anyway, month or so ago I went out with my colleagues for a going away party downtown Toronto. First we went for drinks and poutine (we’re all mega poutine fans here) then we went somewhere where the party was kicked up a notch.

So we’re at this club, where the music was hip-hoppable, there were people dancing and ‘rapping’ on the tables and there was women the size of men in dresses made to fit a 12 year old – being the tall height of 5’3″ I was at an uncomfortable motor-boating height with most of these ladies…turn my head and BAM, boobs in face. Not awesome…but whatever.

At one point in the evening, all of the lights went out, people brought out sparklers and the entire bar starting singing happy birthday as two cakes were brought out to this guy, who apparently is a big deal. What’s that all about? How do you get to a point in your life where a night club will stop everything to sing you happy birthday. A birthday shout out over the PA is one thing, but commanding the entire crowd to sing happy birthday is another. I’m just happy with a facebook message on my birthday…alright, that’s a lie, I throw myself a big shindig every year.

Twenty minutes later, after the music went back on and people were back to ‘rapping’ into the microphone, no one had touched the birthday cake. The $1000 bill cake was staring/taunting/enticing all of us.

Not that cake…but you get the gist. Here’s what happened next:

Kevin: I’ll give you $50 if you put your hand in that cake and take a bite

Me: No way…but I’ll do it for $200 (money’s been tight lately)

Max: I’m in

Jenny: I got $50

Amin: I’ll throw in the rest

So, with a dare being a dare, I accepted the challenge.

When the coast was clear, I had one more look around and then formed a shovel with my hand and attacked the cake.

Here’s the thing, the cake had Royal icing on it. My fingers didn’t go through, I just put a dent in it. WTF. I looked up and there was this guy who was giving me the ‘hate eye’. Like, mad, serious hate eye.

We all laughed and I went to the other side of the group, because I then realized, that putting your hand in someone’s cake, even if it is for $200 is probably not the nicest or smartest thing I could do.

Turns out that the owner of the $1000 cake is pretty much a Toronto ‘gangsta’ and this is why the entire bar stopped for his birthday.  So, I’m going to go out on a limb and say that I’m lucky my hand didn’t go through the cake and that I’m an impulsive idiot sometimes.

You look good for your age

Last Friday I went out with some of my good friends from University. We decided to head to the Madison. In case you have no idea what the Madison is, it is a pub in Toronto that feels as though you’re in a giant maze/frat house.

Because we were close to the oldest people there (28 and up) it felt a little odd as you walked through the bar. There was loads of Abercrombie and Hollister and masses of horny early 20 somethings wandering around hoping someone would go home with them.

At one point in the evening, I went to the ladies room. On my way to the bathroom, I had to walk though these 20 year old boys who appeared all to be in heat. They goggled at every woman as they walked by. On my way to the bathroom I felt like I was about 6 out of 10 and by the time I got to the door I was feeling closer to a 10 than I’ve ever felt in my life.

Anyway, when I came back to my friends they were talking to this young boy (aka 19). He was kind of trying to hit on them (too young to notice the engagement rings) and then he started talking to me.

Me: You’re pretty young aren’t you?

Him: I’m 19, how old are you?

Me: 28

Him: NOOOOOOOOOOO WAY! You look good for your age. I would have thought 20.

Now I admit, I do look and sound young for my age – good for later in life, but bad for career progression.

But seriously, What’s that all about? 28 is not that old. It’s like I was some senior citizen that left my walker at home to have a night out.

Earth day – Shmearth day

I went home at lunch on April 24, just two days after Earth Day. This is what I saw as I walked through Liberty Village:


What’s that all about? I was hoping it was an art installation that would be cleaned up. But I never got any clarification on that. Maybe they were hoping the boxes would turn into compost?

Lee’s Palace…cool people only

This post is a little bit embarrassing, a little bit of a vent.

Confession: I forgot where Lee’s Palace was.

Since I’ve moved to Toronto I’ve been to many live shows. However NONE of them have been at Lee’s Palace. For the most part I’ve been venturing to the Horseshoe to see shows. I love the Horseshoe, it’s dirty and the draft beer makes you feel sick.

Anyway, the last time I was at Lee’s Palace, was about 5-6 years ago to see my favourite Toronto band Staggered Crossing. I LOVE this band, I’ve seen them about a million times, and many of the times I saw them was at Lee’s Palace. So…you’d think I’d remember.

Here’s my disclaimer: I did not live in Toronto then, and had no idea as to where I was. I didn’t know up from down or left from right, so even though I knew I loved Lee’s Palace I totally forgot where it was. Plus, drinking was involved so pretty much I’d just get in a cab and end up where I needed to be.

Last night, I was supposed to go see my friends band called Bombs. I was really looking forward to going because Ryan is a very talented musician, and I haven’t seen him play with his full band yet. Because I had forgotten where Lee’s Palace was, I used my Google machine to find the location.

Judy picked me up from my work party, and we headed to Bloor east. A part of me thought to myself…”that’s not right” but Google and Mapquest said that was the location, so I went with it.

After driving around Bloor east for about 15 minutes and not finding it I called Lee’s Palace, only to hear that they are located at Bloor west by Bathurst – KNEW IT. We ended up turning around and heading home because we had already missed half of their set.

I decided that I should call Lee’s Palace and let them know that their address is incorrect online and that they should get it checked. I mean a client is a client and who wants to lose business.

This morning, my phone rang and it was Bell Canada, so I answered it:

Voice recording: ‘This is Bell Canada, someone has sent you a message using our service and it is no cost for you to check it. Do you accept?’

I accepted.

Message – from Lee’s Palace (paraphrased): ‘Hi Jen I’m calling from Lee’s Palace. We actually put our address on Google incorrectly so that only ‘cool’ people know where it is and it keeps all the people that aren’t cool out. We only want cool people here so, we’re sorry about that.’ AND THEN the a-hole sarcastically finished with, ‘So we’ll get on that lawsuit with Google to solve the address situation immediately’

DICK. What’s that all about? Never in my life have I ever been treated so disrespectfully. It was a total shocker that someone would have the nerve to treat ANYONE like that. I was trying to help them out – WTF?! I mean, who classifies people as ‘cool’ and ‘uncool’? What are we 10 year olds? Besides…I’m pretty f-ing cool and that guy’s a giant douche.

Regardless…the Horseshoe is way better anyway!

*Fingers crossed my tone wasn’t angry…we were pretty frustrated at that time.