The BGA

I
realise that everyone is entitled to his or her own delusional conception of
reality and that being naive, ignorant or just plain simple is not exactly
something you can really slight someone else for. I mean you can decide they
are not interesting to you, or that you don’t want to hire them for a
complicated job, like say preparing toast, but it’s sort of discrimination
isn’t it? to hold stupid people up to smart standards. I just have to keep
on reminding myself , because honestly there are some stupid ass people out
there.
Starting with the Rogers 161 bus driver who started with me yesterday morning,
what a sonofabitch.  In all fairness he was stupid, but his stupidity was
only aggravated by his co-workers stupidity.
For some inexplicable and shitty reason, every morning the Ossington 63 bus
that completes the entire route (which is not that long) comes once every ½
hour whereas the 63a, which makes a short turn at St. Claire, comes every ten
minutes. As annoying as that is to begin with, they don’t follow a specific
schedule so any given day I show up at the bus stop, same time as the day
before I am liable to end up on either a short turn or the real deal, and if I
get the short turn bus and I need to wait for the real deal one at the station
there’s really no telling how many short turns will come before the bus I need
shows up. They say the 63 are supposed to come following 2 63-As but that’s
just what they say.
Anyways my stupid bus driver yesterday did not bother marking that his bus was
a short turn so I thanked my lucky stars, forwent (is that even a word?) my
morning coffee and ran to catch it, only to find out, along with all of the other
disappointed passengers that he would not be taking us to work and  that
we’d have to wait in the cold for another bus. Lucky enough or so I thought
there was a Rogers 161 just behind the 63, so I figured I’d just do a quick
change. At the from of the 63 there was a line up for transfers, but i didn’t
want to wait the light was changing and I was almost late for work, so I waved
through the window to the driver behind me and tried to mount his bus, I apologized
for not having a transfer and said explained that the bus I was on had without
prior notofication short turned at ST. Claire, well the driver just about lost
his mind and started yelling at me, which was just what I needed so I told him
" Wait right here!" and I marched over to the other bus demanded a
transfer and returned. "Here’s your damn transfer, O.K.?"
He looked pissed but didn’t say anything and I quietly lamented the good ol
days when a bus driver was your friend, helpful and kind, and now nice TTC
employees are hard to come by.
This may sound real hokey but I think customer service took a serious nose dive
after Sept 11th, I’m not sure what the correlation is, but i’m convinced.

The second stupidity really made my blood boil, and that’s cause this is one of
those entitled bullshit selfish culturally supported fantasy stupidities… I
can’t even begin to tell you how much this attitude sickens me, so I’ll let you
get sick yourself, here’s is the posting from
Craigslist Artist forum for Toronto that nearly cost me my lunch today.
I can handle the  "Looking for beautiful girls 18+ for steamy photos,
cause they’re not trying to sublimate and pull some virtuous bullshit, but this
Muse business is about as cool as photographers who make their livings
photographing poor people. whatevs.
I also hate some other people but it’s mean to call them out by name on
friendster, especially when some of them are users… oh well.
xxo bga.

Check out Promiscuous: here.
Oh… and check out MY SIDE OF THE STREET here.
BGA xo

Some of you may already be familiar with Leaside’s own Tha Crystaliza, she the real O.G. shit.
Tha Crystaliza is my favourite thing on the internet, I don’t know if she’s real or some cleaver invention, but she never ceases to amuse me (despite the fact that nothing about her page has changed in the last two years) She’s Straight Gansta Livin. Honestly though check out her pics and the captions, she’s ‘da shit’.  In the photo, she’s the one wearing overalls.

BGA loves TAHA CRYSTALIZA

So my nudie J Lo tribute pic has gotten my
friendster page a lot of attention (100 hits over this weekend alone) and
something like 3 pages of new “smiles” from all over the world literally (well…
gays in the Philippines, France and the U.S….) I hadn’t anticipated the amount
of people who would identify with Jenny From The Block and was happily
surprised, but my friend Locklear seems to think it’s something other than my
interpretation of that spicy latina dish that has helped me to expand my demographic
into the foreign market.

Locklear drives a fancy LCD screen Mac laptop;
some top of the line deal, or at least it was when he got it. He alleges that
far from being the focal point of the image, my ‘La Lopez’ rendition is the
last thing on a viewers mind, and that the more captivating element of this
picture lies in ones ability to clearly identify foreskin on its subject.

I do indeed have foreskin, but please believe
me when I say, giving everyone a proper example of this was not my intention.

You see the monitor on my computer at work
(where I friendster) is a dark 1990’s box with no real colour gambit, so I
though a bit more was hidden than evidently is. Also it should be noted that
until I was outed as foreskin bearing cockshower, I was convinced that all one
could see was a sliver of ball. A sliver that I hemmed and hawed over trying to
photoshop away, but ultimately I found that I looked more bizarre sans
reference (or full on exposition as the case may be) of genitalia, so I opted
not to edit it. The truth is that I’m
not really embarrassed that people can see it so much as I am at the notion
that I would intentionally (…in a desperate bid for attention…) expose myself
on friendster.

Surely I want attention just as much as the
next asshole on friendster, but I know I don’t need to be buck naked to get it
(although this weekend is proof that it does help!). And Rather than being
desperate it felt somewhat adventurous, and a little brave to post that image,
which I initially only intended to show Rose.

Obviously my motivation is complicated or at
least intertwined with all sorts of other things, for sure self-absorption
plays a role and the need for an audience, but it doesn’t start or end there.
Not to mention, I would be overjoyed to see a couple of your scrawny asses au
naturel. Besides that I expose way more damning parts of myself in this
blog… and If I can’t hooch it up in public all that’s left for me is the quasi
public of the internet. So I’m not gonna take it down (unless friendster tries
to kick me off again) And this is certainly not the last you’ll hear from my
foreskin.

BGA.

I was helping my mother with some
spring-cleaning this weekend and, while she and I counted the pros and cons of
each of her 35 purses (my argument that it was too ugly to be worn, won out
every time) my father was mixing business with pleasure and adding some fake
research in with the real. At approximately 4:45pm on Friday afternoon he
called to me upstairs from his little computer nook at the back of his house,
to come bear witness as he’d made a discovery sure to shake the very foundation
of my still tender self-esteem. And indeed it did. My father had googled my
name and had come up with this. (Follow that link dumbass). (ED. Note… this is so sad… my page is a) no longer first.. b) no longer there at all, you have to follow the contributors link on MFH)

My very own google search coming back with none
other than me, right at the top too, not like three entries into it, but right
there first on the page! The only sad news is that evidently two of the other
web sites that have reviewed my work have either taken those reviews down or
whatever it is that happens in these situations that makes them not turn up on
the same search as they once did… small sacrifice. Mine From Home really is the
bomb! And Loyal She Remains is getting more intense with every breath. For the
record because some people don’t believe us, Loyal She Remains is Kate and
Myself with DJ Body Damage and the Honorary Poops, we’re gonna be putting some
new stuff on our page towards the end of the week so be sure to check it out.

So this is my testimonial to Mine From Home, if
you’ve wanted to get involved but you’re too much of a pussy, stop the
hesitation, Haig I’m looking in your direction…. Send us a link to your page or
whatevs at dig@minefromhome.com

Also, cause I guess here is as good a place as
anywhere; I have some updated ANTM comments.

A) Apparently everything in my last post was wrong as it pertained to
Brooke, Leslie and Sara. I think Leslie is cute and I liked her photos but I
guess the panel did have a good point that she’s pretty MAXIM, but she could
rip that MAXIM shit a new one cause girl can pose like nobodies business.
Brooke has more life in her than I would have guessed, I should have though it
fits so well into ANTM formula, remember: Nik or Kahlen. As for Sara, the only
thing I got wrong about her was how much the judges actually liked her. I
forget who said it but I was happy to hear an emphatic “Send her back to the
mall!”

B) Nnenna is a bitch! You guy, she’s smart, she’s pretty and she can pose,
but she’s a bitch!

C) I know Jade is not a nice girl “This is not America’s Next Top Best
Friend!” but I still like her, and her ‘crumping’ photo shoot (despite yielding
disappointing results) was so much fun to watch.

D) I still LOVE LOVE LOVE Furonda, and Danielle.

That’s all, bga.

As I reported earlier this year I turned myself 25 in February, a measure to
both simultaneously help me through the hum drum of winter and break me of the
crippling fear I developed following my twentieth birthday whereupon I realised
that youth, more specifically my youth, was like a blossoming
tulip;  resplendent but only to happen once, and fleeting at that, destined to leave me with no more than some naive memories and stretch marks. Sadly I was only
able to defy my age anxiety for so long until like a rubber band umbilical
chord I came bouncing back to the dread that made me. So I’m 24 again, and since
I lost those three months to 25 I will have no choice but to reclaim them this
fall, at which point I will extend my 24^th year until December.

What
I cannot however reclaim are the years of my youth that I lost to being a LARD
ASS! All of those summers of slutting it up in shorty short and showing way too
much flesh, while trying to entice everything in sight. Although knowing me I
would have probably wasted the skinny body what with my indestructible
self-awareness (thanks to some intense early childhood psychiatry) but hoop
dreams for yesterdays you can’t have are about as useful as high waisted pleated
khakis. I have to accept that despite the fact that now that I have a body I
can be more confident in, as the weather grows warmer and my desire to slut it
up grows more intense, I have no choice but to keep it covered. At my age if
you’re not demure, or at least smart looking (like how my grandma says,
“that looks smart!") you just look like an aging child, or worse still,
desperate.

Maybe Isound overly dramatic, but it’s not cute, or charming when you meet someone my
age who doesn’t seem to have any dignity or self consciousness.
I’m not saying we should all sit in front of the mirror scrutinizing every
single signifier on our L.J.’s but if it’s ironic, neon coloured, more flesh
than fabric, or P.V.C, you need to leave that shit for the kids. Also to be
avoided are: rock band t-shirt, anything with a slogan or logo, bug-eye glasses
(not that that was ever a problem for me) and bling not to mention pling,
kaching and the dingaling.

I
accept that unless I become a successful touring musician, I cannot ever again
(except maybe in the most gay of contexts and pride day wont cut it) sport
underwear as outerwear, this is of particular sadness, cause my legs are the
shit, and so is my basket… I will just have to be content remembering the times
I did do dare, making nudie pics for friendster and enjoying what I can vicariously/lecherously through the youths of tomorrow,
although I wish they’d slow down a little, I can’t even catch my breath.

The
worst, I repeat worst was going out to footwork last week, which was actually
the bomb, the DJ was kickass and he played my two favourite new songs the 3 6
Mafia Stay Fly remix and Gwen Stefani Luxurious remix, bitch aint never sounded
better. But what was worst about it were the 19 and 20 year old boys trying to
get my attention, looking at me the way I once looked at older men, not just
lusty, exotic. As a 24 or 25 year old (although I’m sure those kiddies would
have guessed I was 30) I am exotic to them, an older more experienced man (if
they only knew) and my utter lack of interest in their antics, just fortifies
that divide.  Sure I’m far from my
pasture grazing days, but I am equally unqualified to live a carefree existence
naively believing that one day it will all come easily to me, and glamour will
be as natural to me as waking up with a hardon, which makes me wonder how much
longer I get to do that for?

I’m not quite ready to retire my booty shorts so I will hold onto them for playing
tennis and rollerblading. It’s not slutty or inappropriate if it’s athletic
apparel.

BGA

I realize
that this blog has quickly become nothing more than another place on the
already saturated internet, for people to keep up to date on gossip, and in all
fairness, it’s cause I love gossip, but I am trying to reform, or at least talk
myself into being a little more introspective and unguarded. Today, however,
gossip is the rule cause I’m sitting on a story far too big not to tell. Like
the Whitney Huston story I told you last week this is more of a tragedy than a
comedy:

So you may
have heard it reported that Child Services visited Britney Spears and K Fed
today for a “routine patrol” or something, which in my opinion begs the
question, what is a routine Child services inspection And since when do the
child services people routinely check in on new parents, unless… So I was
wondering, could it have been the driving with baby in lap incident? the
endless rumors of K Fed’s degenerate behavior? Or was there something more
here… Britney’s publicists were all, it was just routine, nothing to see here,
move along, which is like a dead giveaway that something is totally wrong,
right? cause otherwise they would have been like “the child services people
think that Britney is an amazing parent and they want to give her an
outstanding young mother award” or some shit.

So around
2:00pm I went to thesuperficial.com and read that: Sometime last week, under
the supervision of a nanny, Sean Preston fell out of his high chair, knocking
his soft little baby head on the floor. So far the reports don’t specify
Britney or Kevin’s whereabouts during the incident, so they may have been
alongside the child or out hiring little people for their next party or
whatever, but here’s my guess.

Britney is
dumb, but not that dumb, and I get the impression that she loves that little baby
more than she loves herself, so I imagine that neither she nor K Fed were home
during the incident (I think given K Fed’s previous experience as a baby daddy
he would have reacted promptly to something like this) I think that the nanny
freaked, and tended to the baby, and once he calmed down she was probably like
fiew! And just left it at that… the reports suggest that after 6 days of the
baby’s crying and being generally groggy Britney got nervous and took Sean to
the hospital, where they found that he had a fracture on his little skull. OMG!
So subsequently, as is customary in all cases of fractured baby skulls, Child
Services were sent on a “routine visit” to make sure that Brit and K Fed were
adequate parents.

This story
is sad because people are always like what’s wrong with that guy, did he fall
on his head as a baby? And Sean Preston did, only the good lord knows what this
will mean for him.

Tomorrow,
or the day after I’ll try to write something more interesting, but for now be
happy that you have the latest gossip long before it has been sullied by the
masses and the free daily newspapers that litter the subway tracks… while everyone
one else is pondering Gynky’s choice to name her little lump of flesh Moses
(happy effin Passover Gwynks) know that you have the cutting edge with this “fractured
Skull” news.

BGA

So Six
Girls have been kicked off of ANTM so far, and excluding last weeks surprise
decision to send Molly Sue (one of my picks for final 3) packing, I have had
absolutely no objections about who has gone home.  In fact the only surprise to me was that Gina, the muttering weak willed
simpleton lasted as long as she did. It’s sad that her spirit was so violently
crushed, but to be frank if I was kept in close proximity to that ignorant
excuse for an adult I probably would have gone Jade on her ass as well.

But really
there’s no point in dwelling on the past, right? My real favorites are still in
running and excluding any crazy plot twists or reconciliation’s with possessive
boyfriends (Nnenna, I’m looking in your direction) they should be around for a
while still.

My three faves are Furonda, Nnenna and
Danielle. This year the judges have gone with the unconventional variety of
beauty. I guess it makes sense the models who are having first name basis
careers right now are really the weirdoes right? Gemma Ward has that big gap
between her huge porcelain doll looking eyes (she’s the best young model hands
down, girl can pose), Daria looks a bit like a horse (she’s real pretty in real
life, she’s got this monochrome hair eyes skin thing going), Jessica Stam has
wolf eyes, beautiful wolf eyes. Natalia looks like an alien (or a kiddy porn
star), and Karolina Kurkova looks like a bitch… I guess that’s not that
strange, but her big bumpy nose is. The other popular look, the one Kurkova
fits easily into is “Russian Mail Order Bride”, you have your Hanna Suckapova
(Soukupova,) Sasha Pivovarova, Marija Vujovic…

The girls
on ANTM, may not all have some freak feature, but the ways in which they are
pretty is fo-show, not what you was expecting. At first I was apprehensive, I
wondered whether it would be like a return to the first season, when the only
hands down pretty enough to be a model girl was Elyse. But sure enough there is
a method to hunger induced bitchiness, these weird looking girls for the most
part photograph well. The only problem is the same problem that’s existed since
day one: stupid girls make bad models. For this reason Brooke needs to go
home… sooner is better. My guess is that tomorrow will be her last episode.
While we’re on predictions I will cast mine for the final; three right now.
Final three will most likely be Nnenna (provided she doesn’t quit to return to
her boyf) Sara (I don’t find her look that appealing but she’s done a pretty
good job this far and the judges love them some blond white girls don’t they?)
Last and certainly not least Leslie… I know she’s a total shot in the dark, but
if you look, objectively at her portfolio she has the most consistently good
photos, she commits each time and sells the scene like it’s nobodies business.
In my dream world Furonda or Danielle would win, especially Furonda, I love,
love, love her!

The
resident bitch who will make it until the final 3 is Jade. She, as in the past,
even has a significant chance of making it to the final 3 (Brie, Keenyah, Eva,
season 2’s bitch got kicked off after Paris, and the fat Christian Robin from
season one was the fourth last to go.) Truth be told as per uje I have a soft
spot for Jade, not because I think she’s misunderstood, I think she brings all
the bad stuff on herself, but because I think she’s terribly insecure and has
opted to validate herself over and over for lack of outside validation. All it
takes to be humbled is for other people to start singing your praises for
you! She’s a cross between Brie and Lisa. And sooner or later someone is
going to start liking her.

Notably
absent from the show this season are two of the staples I’ve come to look
forward to: a fatty who has no chance of making it past the final 6
(OH How I do miss my beloved and very close personal friend TOCARRA!!! See: New
York Minute) and a Lesbo to teach the other girls about the special bond
between a girl and a girl who likes to lick girls…

Sadly dumbo
sweetheart fish-lips Brooke is probably going to be packing up her shit and
waving a teary goodbye tomorrow night. It’s sad cause she’s sweet she hasn’t
been mean at all or done anything questionable, save for being totally
uncomfortable in front of the camera and being to simple to understand
direction, although nothing could really compare to how stupid Gina was…

AS far as
judging goes, Tyra has turned hawking her brand of everything into a tacky
jewel incrusted art on this show. Every second sentence is about her misguided
sob fest of a talk show and how she did this when she was “just starting” I
swear she’s going to come out with a “become a model in 30 days” manual with
dvd’s à la Randy and Paula’s how to be an American Idol pack. The judges seem
to have been keeping it relatively real this season; Twiggy and Nigel stand out
as the most professional, while I still cringe almost every time Ms. Jay opens
her cruel little mouth, I feel like I’ve said it before, but Ms. Jay is one
ugly lady and as the old saying goes, “you shouldn’t throw stones from a glass
house”

Last week’s
episode with an AIDS P.S.A. performed by none other than Furonda (she looked so
happy when she won the challenge) and Nnenna and the shocking end to Molly Sue’s
ANTM journey will re-air tonight on channel 20 or something for all of you mo-fos
with cable for the rest of us losers, the new episode is tomorrow on city at 8.

P.S. I can’t
believe that America decided to keep Paris and ditched Mandissa, was that a
joke?

Now more than ever I hope Taylor Hicks takes the
whole damn thing and gives Ryan Seacrest a big wet one when he does.

I
was saying to Kate and Eden last night that as a child I used to lock myself in
the bathroom for hours and stand on the toilet accepting awards and delivering
tense and heartbreaking monologues, and my personal favourite, a habit I have
happily held onto through adulthood is the fluff piece interview, sometimes
it’s Nancy O’Dell, sometimes it’s Oprah, but mostly it’s Barbara Walters. With
Nancy I’m charming witty flirty and all smiles, with Oprah I’m usually quite
contrary, disgusted by her questions and pedantic interview style. With Babs
it’s a free for all, sometimes I’ve stopped by 20/20 to promote some cause I
believe in sometimes she wants me to confess my adolescent traumas, which I
never do (I have never cried on a talk show, although once when I was on the
Tyra show I just got up and walked off, it was just ridiculous and the
producers totally got me there under false pretence) but mostly I’m just waxing
philosophic about the state of the world and how my ideas could change our
civilisation, at the end of the interview Barbara tells me how fascinating it
has been meeting with me again, and that she looks forward to my being on her
show again. Sometimes I go to the View, but usually on the days she’s not
there. The View always ends the same for me, I get on well with Meredith Viara
and Joy Bahar (in fact Joy and I are making non stop off colour jokes from the
moment I walk on stage) but I am outwardly hostile towards Star Jones Reynolds,
you would be to, she’s such a phoney bitch in real life, and if the young one
tries to talk to me I just tell her to ‘zip it’ Janice Dickinson. Speaking of
which I got kicked off Americas Next Top Model this afternoon, and boy did
those judges get a talking to, I didn’t humiliate myself, I never do except at
the Nickelodeon awards, but it’s kind of expected there, but yeah I just told
those judges what their problems were but it wasn’t all bad, I had some real
encouraging words for my peers and they all raced to embrace me as I left the
stage once and for all.
These talk show interludes are not exclusive to the toilet top perch, sometimes
I inadvertently invite an interviewer (usually copy) to accompany me on my
errands or whatever, they’re usually quite gracious about it, and I’m always
sure it’ll land me a bi-line on how down to earth I am "he does his own
groceries!"  Lately the Media’s been turning on me though and I find
more often than not my opinions are landing me in hot water, and it’s a real
dilemma cause you never know what to do, do you a) pull a Beyonce and recite
some quotable sweet as apple pie platitude or do I b) say: "Personally, I
think George Clooney, along with Gwyneth, need to get off their high horses and
start being realistic." Sure the reporters love it, but once you’ve that
kind of quote out there, you know it’s only a mater of time before the vultures
come for you. It also seems that my recent bad behaviour on Oprah has given me
a rap as the loose cannon who’s full of sound bites and bitterness. And
nothing is worse than feeling vilified and misunderstood. Had she let me finish
speaking she would have had no choice but to agree with me, as it stands Ellen
has asked that I promise not to loose my temper. at least no one tries to get
me on Dr. Pill that would be a sure fire way to make sure that no one wanted to
ask me a question in front of a rolling camera as long as I lived.
Maybe its time fro me to try a different direction, like sketch comedy of or
guest judge? I always felt I was better suited to positions of power.
BGA

Speaking
of failed heterosexuals, Marshall Eminem Bruce Mathers III has filed for
divorce from his wife and muse Kim. This time their marriage lasted a whole 82
days. This is third time Marshall and Kim have been married… to one another.
I really thought they were going to make it work this time, Marshall seems so
dedicated to Hailie, the couples pubescent daughter. Oh well guess this means
we’re in for one of those really mean records very soon, with angry vengeful
verses directed at Kimbo… and look out next year this time for a
reconciliation.
Truthfully speaking two years ago I couldn’t have cared less about Eminem’s
marital woes, but like so many other things I love, Rose turned me on to
the saga of their love. Rose
knows a lot about love… um let me rephrase that, Rose falls in love a
lot. She’s also from
a trashy (although picturesque) island off of Victoria B.C. so
she understands how hard it is for a couple of
borderline trailer trash to make it work. I think Rosary also related
to the on again off again aspect of their relationship, which at the time
mirrored her own dysfunctional and on again off again relationship with Matt.
Sidebar: Matt is a cool guy, but like dude what up with telling everyone Rose is your stalker ex-
gf? so she calls you 3 times a day still, and asks you if you love her and
cries, that sounds pretty normal to me, I think you’re selfish and
unreasonable.
Anyways, Rose
turned me on to the real Eminem show, and I couldn’t help but feel somewhat sad
for Rosita herself
as I read about the latest Em- Kim split. Here are two people who have done the
full rags to riches dreams come true blah blah blah, and they seem destined to
repeat this same love/hate cycle until the day Em really does make good on his
word and kills the bitch. Also I wonder for Rose’s own narrative.
Is she doomed to repeat the same mistakes that have alienated her from her
partners in the past? Does love exists for the girl in love with love itself?
More importantly what about me?
Someone told me recently that as men age they face two possible outcomes. Tall
men have the option, if they maintain their waist lines, to grow old as wan,
blithe swan like creatures, like a Donald Sutherland or Gregory Peck. The other
option, unfortunately the only option for those of a more humble stature is
creepy old geezer, letch perv geezah! So even if I die alone, I’ll look damn
fine and damn blithe in my coffin. P.S open casket all the m.f. way.