Tuesday, August 28, 2007

not everyone can blog from work



Monday, August 13, 2007

internalized homophobia

Last Monday, after I returned to Toronto from a long weekend at my parents' house, I flopped on the couch and watched some television. One of Ontario Travel's new ads came on -- a 60-second spot featuring Keshia Chanté.

Around 42 seconds into the spot, there is a fairly quick 3-shot sequence of some men meeting for gay pride celebrations.

That's when I blurted out "oh NO!" to no one in particular.

My blink reaction was negative. One of dismay and shame. Basically, homophobic.

Where the fuck did that come from? I wondered. I've been thinking about it ever since. I'm proud to live in Ontario, and even more proud that my province was one of the first jurisdictions in the world to uphold the rights of same-sex couples wishing to legally marry.

Was it my inner bitch speaking? ("Why did they have to portray young gay men?") Or was it a remnant of my weekend back in the closet, away from the city and the insular nature of my gay neighbourhood? Was it my mind processing the fact that my relationship with my parents is probably at its dysfunctional apex?

I was reminded of an anonymous comment on a post from last year about a gay guy I saw on the streetcar. The person who wrote "only emphasizes your own homophobia" really made me think. And now this. Do I have internalized homophobia, bubbling to the surface every now and then? Or am I just too easily annoyed by 20-something gay men in fauxhawks?

Thursday, August 09, 2007

Swedish 3D puzzle

I wrote in June that I know how to change a spare tire. Unfortunately, I didn't pay attention to the placement of the tools in the cargo area as I was removing them. After I changed the tire, I just pitched everything back in. A couple of weeks later -- after getting two new tires -- I had a chance to put everything back in its place.

I knew the compact spare went in a certain way, and was secured with a threaded disc. What I couldn't figure out was how to get the toolkit (jack, lug wrench, tow eye, etc. all packed in a neat polystyrene form) to fit. No matter how I tried laying it out, I couldn't get the cargo area floor access hatch to close.

Consulting the owner's manual was no help. It gave detailed instructions for the sedan, but not my model (the wagon).

I pulled up a lawn chair to the back of my car, sat down, and tinkered for an hour.

Finally, with my head on the bumper, peering into the cavern of my car's innards, I got it. The polystyrene toolkit literally fits into part of the rear bumper.

Here is an illustration of how to fit the toolkit -- along with the compact spare -- into the cargo area of a 2000 Saab 9-5 Wagon:



Tuesday, August 07, 2007

sweet sweet road justice

To the driver of the bile-green BMW who got a ticket from the O.P.P. on Monday, August 6, 2007 at approximately 2:50 p.m. -- you should know that I cheered when I saw you pulled over. I'm willing to bet that many other people did, too.

You see, when you drive like a total fucking asshole -- pulling out from behind me in the exit lane, accelerate dangerously in a lane you're not supposed to be in, deek back into the exit lane (relying on the ignorant goodwill of a fellow driver who didn't see your underhanded move), then speed recklessly onto the Gardiner Expressway, where you are stopped by the police -- the people whose lives you endanger are only too happy to see you get what's coming to you.

If I may further enlighten you, traffic was backed up because the ramp from the southbound 427 to the eastbound Gardiner Expressway was reduced to one lane. Did you not see the bright orange construction signs? How about the orange spray paint on the pavement? Then again, I'm willing to bet you knew that perfectly well. You just decided that your time was more valuable than everyone else's, and acted accordingly.

Either that, or you were about to shit your pants, just trying to get home. In which case, I hope you soiled yourself. Prick.

Wednesday, August 01, 2007

very easily amused

My brother has an infinite ability to crack me up. It's especially pronounced when we're riding in a car -- probably the natural outcome of many long road vacations in our childhood.


"Comfortably Numb" by Pink Floyd is on his satellite radio. He's driving. Neither of us is speaking.

Just a little pinprick...
There'll be no more -- aaaaaahhh!
But you may feel a little sick.

And I'm doubled-over, laughing, because he chimes in with a loud, piercing falsetto at the "aaaaaahhh" part.


We're driving again, approaching a stop sign. The highway has rumble strips. As his truck wheels contact the rough surface, resonating with sound pairs (front and back tires) that are further and further apart (we're decelerating), he's adding his own sound effects:

mer mer
merr merr
murrr murrr

And I'm laughing again. Every time.