That Labour Day Blog

Happy Labour Day weekend, cowboys & Indians!

A little history lesson: Labour Day celebrates the efforts of labour unions all over the world (excluding sweat shops, obviously) in achieving the 8-hour day movement - 8 hours for work, 8 hours for recreation, 8 hours for sleep.

Although widely celebrated by the rest of the world on May 1st (May Day), here in North America it's celebrated the first Monday of September - a traditionally ceremonious 'last hurrah' of summer for many.

In Canada, Labour Day can be tracked back to the printer's revolt of 1872 - back then unionization was illegal... like JAIL-worthy - and 10,000 workers took to the street demanding a scant 54 hour work week, leading then-PM Sir John A. MacDonald to repeal anti-union laws and olde tymey blue-collar Joe's finally caught a break.

I remember as a kid I thought Labour Day celebrated the act of giving birth, and still kinda do. Weird how that works, huh?

So, because it's Friday, and because it's the start of Labour Day weekend, I now present my TOP 10 FAVOURITE BIRTHING METHODS!!!

10.) Water Birth

Ahhhh water birth. It's like being at a water park - using your mother's vag as a veritable slip 'n slide into a giant wave pool... HELLO WORLD!

Okay, this is gross. I'll stop. I can actually remember in my OAC [Grade 13... in Ontario, we used to have 5 grades in high school, for those of you not in the know] Sociology class, the teacher - Ms. Rita Kilpatrick - filled an entire hour-and-a-half lesson by making us watch a tape of birthing methods. T'was not for the faint of heart. I made it through water birth and midwife assistance, but holy mother of fuck, once Cesarean came rollin' round the corner I had my limit! I was like "Mrs. K - I'm going to blow chunks. Can I leave?" I was actully palpitating in horror. To this day, I still have the occasional night terrors about it. *shivers*

Anyway... one thing commonly associated with Labour Day, as much if not moreso than it taking 5 hours to drive from Toronto to Barrie, is the belief that you can't wear white after Labour Day.

But from whence did this belief come from?

After some perfectly exhaustive research, I'm come to these conclusions:

The rule seems to originate in the American South... where most good things do.

Originally, the rule applies to shoes. Specifically, white pumps. Tennis shoes, sneaks, off-white boots and an Autumn or Winter Brides' footwear notwithstanding, it's perceived as very bad manners to wear white pumps outside of the period betwixt Easter Sunday and Labour Day in the south. Which actually makes sense. White pumps are ridiculous. Every time I see a girl wearing them, I'm like, "Oh hi. Are you part of Prince's entourage from 1986?"... Digressing...

How did this become such widespread belief? Blame the advent and subsequent boom of the middle class in the 1950's. All of a sudden, people had money, but absolutely no handle on the standards of bonafide high society, soooo they were given a number of broad, definitive rules to follow in order to fit in. Not wearing white after Labour Day was one of them.

Since then, the argument has been that white is only in fashion in the summer, and the rule is in place to prevent people from wearing winter fashions in summer months and vice versa. I say, "SUCK IT!". I'll wear white if and when I damned well please, and I encourage you to do the same.

Unless they're white jeans. No one is allowed to wear white jeans. Especially if they're made into jort form. Hell to the no.

Anyway...

The more you know,

--- Aj

Garghf.

Yes, GARGHF.

I've spent more time than I'd like to admit trying to write a blog of Myths vs. Facts about the Bermuda Triangle.

I'm less-pleased to admit this than the number of Carrie Underwood songs I've got on my iPod at present: "Some Hearts", "Jesus, Take The Wheel", "Wasted", "Before He Cheats" and the Idol Gives Back charity single, "I'll Stand By You". An exponentially higher amount of Underwood than any one human should want or need.

I know, I know - BERMUDA TRIANGLE? "Why Andrew, I had NO idea you had such an agog interest in nautical paranormality!"

Well guess what, motherfucker? I do.

This past Sunday, a day that I play nursemaid to my hangover and watch whatever the fuck is on my television, I found myself settled on the Space Network watching an expose on the Bermuda Triangle. And what an expose!

The Bermuda triangle, of course, is the waterway betwixt Miami, Florida, the mid-Atlantic isle of Bermuda and land o' plenty, San Juan, Peurto Rico, where many a ships 'n planes have gone missing without a trace.

This expose went on to explore countless theories of explanation... ranging from abnormally high methane levels localized within the triangle that cause the weather go haywire to a hypothesis that it's an underwater Area 51 and that the US government is responsible for the paranormalities to the perfectly zany theory that the ocean floor beneath the triangle is the final resting place of the lost city of Atlantis and it's all haunted and shit...

Discussed in this particular expose was a fairly recent study done by some German dude whose name escapes me in which he tracked electro-magnetic anomalies in the triangle and found a ridiculously high amount that shift constantly. Then a barrage of physisists came on saying that the only explanation for them would be cosmic 'wormholes' in the time/space continuum! So mini black holes, basically.

Which means that all the missing barges, yachts, jetskis, planes etc got sucked into a mini, mobile black hole! And into - *GASP* - THE FOURTH DIMENSION!

Anyway. I kinda thought that was interesting. Yet have absolutely no scientific footnotes to reference, so really... this was pointless. Onto more substantial things...

3 RUMOURED HOLLYWOOD ROMANCES I'M FOLLOWING!!!

1.) Shia LaBeouf & Rihanna
The Sun is reporting that slightly post-pubescent superstud Shia LaBeouf (of course Shia's last name loosely translated: The Beef) and R&B tart-of-the-moment Rihanna are an item!

I can't tell you how badly the young Hollywood landscape needs an interracial power-couple right now. Very.

Well, it's certainly a niche that could stand to be filled, anyway.

2.) Zac Efron & Nikki Blonsky

I can't tell you how much I wish this was true.

If this delicious item is to be believed, these Hairspray co-stars brought their respective characters' unlikely romance right off the big screen and into reality!

My inner-fat chick is squealing with joy about this.

If true, score for Blonsky. He's the man of the moment. If true, good on Efron - it would really make weigh down the smarminess I find so repulsive about him with some depth. Even if she is just his beard.

3.) Bea Arthur & Peter O'Toole

Shit. Now THIS one is a hot ticket.

Not really.

They're not together.

I can dream, though. Seeing who could outdrink the other would be epic. I'd love to see that.

Although the sex would be disgusting, I think we should all count our lucky stars that these two are still with us.

Someone I think we could all do without, however...

Jordin Sparks.

She sucks.

Need proof?

Her new single, "Tattoo", has been released and oooh howdy it's a stinker.

To say that this song is like a poor man's version of Beyonce's "Irreplaceable" would be the understatement of the year.

I'd describe it as such:

If both songs were made from a pig, "Irreplaceable" would be back bacon from the lucious ass, whereas "Tattoo" would be a hot dog made from the snout and entrails.

IT SUCKS HARD.

Listen/Download it HERE.

Like a tattoo,

--- Aj

Big Whoop! Who Gives A Bibble? Gabba Gabba Hey.

That title is of course a line spoken by none other than Marge Simpson in an episode whose details escape me at present time... but it was said in the context of something like, "so you didn't make the soccer team... big whoop! Who gives a bibble?! Gabba gabba hey."

I found it rather fetching.

And will now use it as a title whenever I have a blog full of minutia/things that are still blogworthy but not qualifiable as 'Haute Topics'.

Anyway...

Today is Canadian theatre impresario David Mirvish's birthday. And, seeing as I work in the Mirvish building, it's a big, fat, festive deal around these parts.

Although I don't work directly under him, he still signs m'cheque, and whenever I encounter him I all but avert my gaze. Which is ridiculous, because the man's about the nicest, most passive, genteel dude ever - but I still find myself in greeting him with fear/reverence.

Like every time he comes up to our office and I have slight warning, I'll bust my ass to tidy and y'know, put on my shoes (I'm notoriously sock-footed at work. Notoriously).

Anyway, as almost always happens when you're trying to impress someone, you say monumentally retarded things. He just called up here looking for my boss, and it SOMEHOW took me like 5 minutes to explain to him that he's gone for lunch, at which point he's like "cool. tell him to call me when's he's back" and I'm all "ABSOLUTELY!" and he's all "great" and I'm like "yeah. And HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" and he's like "thank you"...

And then there was a momentary lull in the conversation - which is pretty much my mortal enemies as I always feel the need to fill those with soundbytes that get more bizarre and inappropriate as I go on.

So I say, "OH- it's also Michael Jacksons' birthday!" - WHICH IT TOTALLY IS - and he's like "... oh. Is that so?". And I'm like "Yeah! Crazy, huh? ... anyways, BYE!"

WHY DO I SPEAK? Fuck.

In other news...

Jessica Alba's in town. Shooting a new movie alongside Mike Myers called "Love Guru". She was snapped by photogs outside some unnamed 'chic' eatery looking incontestably marvelous.

Dear Jessica Alba: please leave my city. Thanks.

In other, other news...

Closeted gay Republicans who get busted in seedy sex scandals suck.

Well, actually, they don't. They wish they could. But they always try to in a public place and get busted by the popo-or blowpo.

The latest in a string of 'em (Mark Foley, Ted Haggard, that Republican youth leader who got caught jerking off his unwilling bunkmate at some Republican retreat) is Senator Larry Craig.

This is hardly a first offense, either. He's been alleged of it before - dating back to a congressional page scandal as far back as 1982. This time around, the scene of the crime was in an airport bathroom in the bustling gay epicentre of the world, Minneapolis, Minnesota.

He was making a lot of bizarre foot-tapping signals and inappropriate hand gestures to a sexy undercover blowpo, busted, then plead guilty.

I wouldn't have a problem with all these Republican homos on the DL if they still behaved like they did but were merely passive if-not slightly favorable to the GLBT cause.

It's the fact that these guys act so vehemently anti-gay, voting against hate-crime laws and same-sex marriage, then go out and commit these dirty, backalley indecencies and thereby perpetuate the stereotype/profile of the God-foresaken homosexual that all their fucking constituents think they need to protect the rest of the world from! Grrr!

Anyway... I gotta run... cake is being served downstairs... and I loves me some cake...

Such as,

--- Aj

That Fipps Placenta Blog

That title.

Long story.

Long story SHORT: Last night saws me do something all too uncharacteristic for me - I actually attended a comedy show that I wasn't performing at! And to make things all the more far-fetched, it was an alternative comedy show. I don't think I've attended an alternative comedy night that I wasn't a part of since the Joke Club at the Drake a full calendar year ago but I know, I know, "what does this have to do with you?", I'll shut up.

Anyway - last night's excursion was to see an act I'd never seen before: Iron Cobra. Comprised of the most prominent jaw lines in the comedy world, Becky Johnson & Graham Wagner, it's wonderfully intellectual long-form improv at its finest.

Something that I found entirely uproarious was a scene in which two radio DJ's took a station break to broadcast commercials, one of them was for tampons, and it was slightly offbeat or offensive or something that prompted them to discuss it when they were back from break.

A lively back 'n forth ensued and eventually came to a screeching halt when Becky said: "Maybe you didn't know this, but I suffer from a condition called Fipps Placenta!" Magnificent.

Turns out: no such thing as Fipps Placenta... I actually googled it as soon as I got home, as I like to have a healthy arsenal of minutia about medical oddities/ailments on hand at all times... mainly to break out in the middle of dinner parties/muggings.

No dice. None whatsoever. Fuck.

In other news...

So it's official: I'm obsessed with Miss Teen South Carolina, Lauren Caitlin Upton.

For those of you who have been living under a rock/on an isolated mission in outer space/held captive in a serial killer's basement putting lotion on y'skin until today, Miss Upton is the dumb-as-hair Miss Teen USA contestant-turned-newsmaker when, this past weekend, she came down with the worst case of verbal diarreah in the history of time giving her answer at the Q&A.

The clip made its way 'round the world fast and nasty via youtube turning L to the C to the U into the latest internet laughing stock du-jour.

Certainly, one would think that after turning into the female equivalent of the Star Wars Kid, you'd run. As fast as you can. And hide. Forever. But thank the stars, she came out of hiding this morning on the Today show to explain "what she meant to say"...

She claims that she was so dumbfounded by the statistic, that she was in shock and not, as widely presumed, because she's an astoundingly retarded douchebag.

I love how she absolutely has to put that last bit about how her parents raised her with strong values and morals and bullshit at the end. That just drives home why people are so jubilant about her failure, in my opinion. Because she's a veritable clear-cut everywoman for each and every oblivious, transparent, lemming-esque American Southerner who were the popular kids in high school and voted for Bush out there. I hate her because of that, too. And also because she bears a stunning resemblance to Elisabeth Hasselbeck, but that's neither here nor there.

Hate as I might, I'm still obsessed. And as I'm obsessed, I did a little research on Miss Upton... and by that I mean I went to the Miss Teen USA website and read her fucking bio...

Of note:

... She's an avid soccer player - SO avid, in fact, that her varsity soccer team traveled to Germany placing second in a tournament involving several European countries. I assume there was no Q&A period involved.

... She's a talented artist with a focus in graphic design. As a matter of fact, she actually won a "star student" award in - and I shit you not - photoshop.

... She plans on attending college for Grapic Design (read: NOT GEOGRAPHY) and ultimately work in special effects for film & TV. Of course, if this falls through, she plans to take the European modelling world by storm (for real)... afterall, in her modelling life, she has appeared in such luminous publications as Seventeen, Cosmo Girl and American Cheerleader.

And perhaps most provocatively of all...

... She can be booked for live appearances by calling 803.648.6220 or by e-mailing info@rpmproductions.com... which I plan on doing tomorrow.

Until then,

--- Andrew "Such As" Johnston

Apparently It's Monday...

Yeah.

My weekend was a fucking vortex. A VORTEX I tells ya...

Making it worse is that I had all sorts of plans that I detailed in Friday's blog - ALL OF WHICH FELL THROUGH.

Friday night started off well-intentioned enough. A gaggle of us were set to attend Madonnarama and made sure we got there in decent-enough time (read: before 11). Yeah... that was downright tardy. There was a line up the mothafuckin' block - people had clearly been there since before 9. And who has got that sort of time? WHO?!

It was supposed to be $10 before 11, $15 before 1 and "more" after 1... I'd price an evening dancing to all-Madonna music with 5,000 other homos, all the dry ice you can breathe and zero personal space at 2 bucks. Maybe $2.50. So naturally, the most I was willing to go was 10.

Call me a jaded old fuck (well, don't, lest I bitch slap you), but I just have no patience for places that let a line purposely swell so it looks 'happenin'. I just couldn't care less... so in a reaction comprised of 20% "we'ze too hot fo' dat shit"-elitism, 10%"dang! as if that line is that long, y'all!"-despair, and 70% good-old-fashioned "meh"-apathy, we bolted the absolutely preposterous lineup at Madonnarama and found ourselves at Woody's. Yee-Haw.

About two seconds after we got in there, BOOM - torrential downpour. Homos from that Madonnarama line sought shelter in the village like they was gonna melt or some shit... they swarmed like locusts - it was amazing. I imagined "The Ride of the Valkyries" underscoring and let me tell ya, it was all too fitting.

Anyway, joy of joys, what a night to find y'self at Woody's - it was afterall, "Best Ass Night". It is just simply beyond me who enters these things. I think the only people that I respect less than the dudes who enter these things are the dudes who are active spectators at them. It's so seedy. But then again, who am I to judge? Ya gotta have fun, that's what I always say.

It turned out that one of the contestants was a guy that one of my co-fags had some liasons with a while back [I won't mention either of their names as he didn't seem particularly pleased to find himself in this circumstance].

My nameless co-fag said that this dude was "going through a real low-point right now".

I asked "how low?"

"Low enough to enter a best ass contest at Woody's."

Point taken. Anyballs that was that was about that. I also trumpeted that I'd be attending the centennial anniversary of the Royal Alex theatre yesterday, but shoot y'all, it was at noon. This guy does nothing before 7 PM on Sundays. Fuck it, this guy doesn't really do anything after 7 PM on Sundays, either. The point I'm making is that I don't do things on Sundays - did you get that?

It's a pretty definitive 'day of rest' for me. Not for religious reasons, but primarily because I'm so abominably wasted on Saturday nights that it really takes quite a stripe offa/outta me. So I'm just the picture of languid, if you can imagine. And I'll actually watch anything that's on m'TV set. The past three Sundays, CBC's been airing the Harry Potter films... so I thought I'd see what all the fuss is about and check 'em out. But then I'll fall asleep for 20 minute intervals and miss key plot points/character introductions/spells and other conventions of warlockcraft and I'm just fucked right up ass in terms of understanding what's going on.

I have, however, come to three conclusions:

1.) In each and every case, whomever you think is a good guy is actually a bad guy and whomever you think is a bad guy is actually a good guy. I could have just said vice versa. Whatever.

2.) MORE Maggie Smith, LESS fantastical beasts.

3.) Hermoine and Ron both need gender reassignment surgery. He's clearly a chick and she's clearly a dude.

Anyway...

The best thing to happen to me all weekend was joyous indeed... I'm going to assume that you're well-aware of third-place finisher Lauren Caitlin Upton's ass-rockingly brilliant answer at this past Friday's Miss Teen USA pageant... it's one of the best things I've ever seen.

I can't tell you how entertaining I find that. And it just gets better every time you watch it. How many times she incorrectly says "such as". Mario Lopez about to lose it at the end of it. Whether or not that self-satisfied smirk she ends on is genuine or not. All of these things.

I refuse to believe that a percentage of U.S. Americans (is there any other kind?) don't have access to maps. It was my understanding that every citizen of U.S. America - from the hoitiest, toitiest Connetician family of 4 to the lowliest Appalachian family of 17 - had an at-least 2004 edition globe of the world that doubled as a wetbar as the centrepiece of their living room. I'LL BE DAMNED!

Anyway, Miss Upton's Q&A snaffoo easily made a dark day for the Bimbo community. Apparently, the bitch isn't doing any follow-up interviews - as her reps were easily able to foresee the amount of people with basic mathematical and grammatical problems for her to take a stab at.

Already this incident seems poised to result in more response videos than "Dick In A Box"...

Anyway, such as, I've got to get going, such as, so, South America and Iraq, such as, I'll have to talk to you later, U.S. Americans.

Such as,

--- Aj

MORE Haute Topics

T to the G to the I to the F!

What's happenin' cowboys & Indians... any big plans for the weekend? I'm making my lone yearly visit to Fly tonight for "Madonnarama" - a night of non-stop Madonna music. It's poised to be the faggiest thing that has ever happened in the history of time.

Then Sunday, I'm attending the 100th anniversary of the Royal Alex theatre. There's a rumored who's who of Canadian luminairies expected - chiefly among them, Camilla Scott. I'll make a point to bring my camera.

Three things:

1.) AMY WINEHOUSE IS OFFICIALLY THE MOST ENTERTAINING HUMAN BEING ON THE FACE OF THE PLANET

Everyone's favourite cracked-out British hair-hopping soulstress hit a glorious new low this week - photos circulated of her and husband/drinking buddy Blake Fielder-Civil after what appears to be after a nasty knife-fight.

Apparently he walked in on her about to do herione with a call girl, told her that she 'wasn't good enough for him', she freaked because of this and started cutting herself, he walked in to intervene, got diced six ways to Sunday and in the process, saved her life.

The couple celebrated this by taking their freshly cut wounds on a delightful nightime promenade in merry Londontowne. To the surprise of no one, the papparazzi were present.

There is something about that picture that I find so hilarious. Something about them walking hand in hand, her with her signature bee-hive (does she ever put that shit down?) and 8-tonne mascara eyes freshly collapsed from a crying fit, him looking like he was on the receiving end of a hickey from a moray eel - as if to say "all in a day's work".

Nuts. Gets me in the mood for some classic Winehouse... this clip, introduced to me by Aaron Kyte sometime last winter, marks my introduction to Mz Winehouse... it's her... drunk out of her skull on the Charlotte Church show... singing Michael Jacksons' "Beat It"... and beat it she does... to an agonizing, unethical death...

2.) NICOLE RICHIE IS RELEASED FROM JAIL AFTER SERVING 82 MINUTES

Yep. 82 minutes. 'Overcrowding'.

At least her weigh in was made public.

You'll fucking love this: 5 months pregnant and guess what she tipped the scale at?

105 pounds.

Doesn't that barely qualify her as hale enough to menstuate? I'm shocked she was able to produce an ovum in the first place, quite honestly. Wow.

3.) HOLLYWOOD ELITE SUBPOENAD TO TESTIFY AGAINST CANADA

This is magnificent.

One distinguished Jerome Almon of one very distinguished Murdercap Records has summoned an astounding who's who to appear in court over a lawsuit against the Canadian government that alleges that our customs officials racially profile black rappers at the border and put blame on them for increased gang violence in Toronto and Vancouver.

Subpoena'd: Paris Hilton, Mick Jager, Keith Richards, Snoop Dogg, DMX, P. Diddy, Jenna Jameson, Sunny Leone, Olivia, Jay Z, 50 Cent, Eminem, Alain Jolicoeur, Kobe Bryant, Oprah Winfrey, Katelyn Faber, Spike Lee, Abbe Raven, Tom Sizemore, Beverly Posthill, Martha Stewart, Heidi Fleiss, Belinda Stronach, David Miller, Colin Powell, Condoleeza Rice, and many more. View the subpoenas with y'own damn eyes.

So it's just that easy? File a lawsuit and a smorgasbord of your favourite celebs will be forced to come to y'backyard?

Hmmm... well I think it's safe to say that one Miss Shelley Long will be served with some papers any day now... wink wink wink wink wink...

Gah,

--- Aj

Haute Topics

D'afternoon to y' and y'rs.

5 thinks to tickle ya noggin.

1.) PETE DOHERTY ARRESTED ON DRUG POSSESSION FOR THE 12TH BILLION TIME

Can news programs, infotainment programs, infotainment weekly magazines, infotainment monthly magazines, tabloids, bloggerati, water cooler conversationalists and the world in general please stop paying attention to Pete Doherty?

I don't understand why all the above sources feel the need to report when he gets busted on drugs as news when it happens. It's like when you read headlines like "Olsen Twins Shun Papparazzi" or "Carmen Electra Acts Like A Whore" - IT'S NOT NEWS! IT'S A REGULAR, MINUTELY OCCURRANCE!!! Sheesh.

Speaking of things that aren't news, but meh, I'll mention it anyway...

2.) PAPS CATCH LINDSAY AT REHAB

Because bitch would gnarl up and die if she wasn't in a tabloid for more than 3 days, Lindsay teamed with the good folks at OK to stage several 'candid' shots of her fighting the good fight at the Sundance, Utah rehab lodge she's currently staying at.

A while back, her rehab itinerary was "leaked" by some """anonymous source""" - and among its rather mundane details, it disclosed that Lindsay works shifts at a local grocery store [not the one pictured to the right - that's just a random pap shot of Lindsay along with her irrevocably fucked up siblings Alli and Cody] - anyway... THOSE would be the only pics I'd be interested in seeing. Lohan restocking the yams and price checking FudgeO's and shit. That would make my life so much richer than it already is, really.

3.) DANNILYNNE HOPE NICOLE-SMITH-K. MARSHALL-STERN-BIRKHEAD TURNS 1

Hmmm.

It's not really my nature to be maliciously cruel to children, particularly newbors.

But this bitch has it comin'...

By looks of it, she inherited daddy's raging gayface and mommy's... uh... how to put this... glandular burdens. I can't tell you how enthralled I am to watch this one grow up.

At least she's gonna be rich. Who wants to place bets right now on how old she'll be before K-Fed starts courting her?

4.) THIS IS HIS SIGNATURE LOOK: JASON DAVIS EDITION

My God, Jason Davis is disgusting.

If you're a reasonable person with ethics, values and a life - you don't know who this glob of evil is.

Allow me to enlighten you: If Paris Hilton and former-fug Nicole Richie had male counterparts, they might be brothers Brandon and Jason Davis. Heirs to a vast oil fortune, Brandon landed in the tabloids after the TMZ cameras famously caught him calling Lindsay Lohan a 'firecrotch' during a night out with close friend Paris. Jason's his demonically unattractive, questionably gay brother and ergo: a gigantic moving target.

Here's him snapped at, of all places, a beachside party at Paris Hilton's Malibu beach house. It's time once again for...

This Is His Signature Look...

5.) BATSHIT NUTS ITEM OF THE DAY

Wow.

I'm sure someone's uncovered this before as it's 2 years old, but holy fuck.

Since 2005, someone has been running a blog as if they are Madonna, posting nearly every day. On it, she posts news about herself (just slightly after the fact that the rest of the world finds out about it), posts fan videos and even runs a book club.

It's pretty effin' psychotic, but I admire their productivity.

Check it out here: http://madonnasthoughts.blogspot.com/

'S'it,
--- Aj