Comings... Goings... Doings...

D'afternoon to you cowboys & Indians...

Come with me for a brief trip through time.

The date: Approximately June 4th, 2006. My birthday. I received a digitial camera as a gift, a device that I easily became obsessed with. For about a solid 4 months after that, I brought it everywhere, took pictures incessantly and so was born my 'photo blog'. For real. I'd find an excuse to go out so I could bring my camera, photodocument the evening and blog about the shit.

I've eased off from doing that in recent months, partly because once my blog became less anonymous, people wouldn't include me in things/invite me on the condition that I didn't photo-blog about it, partly because a camera is rather cumbersome to keep in one's pocket and ruins the clean silhouette that a gay man holds so dear, partly because, meh, I just full-out lost enthusiasm for it.

Well today is a blast from the past - it's an old-fashioned photo blog about my last night's festivities!

After striking a salute pose for the entire afternoon in tribute to 9/11 (I assume you did the same), I got ready to meet one Miss Nicole "CoCo" Arbour to accompany her to an, *ahem*, Eco-Fashion Show at V Club in Yorkville. The entire to-do was to be hosted by friend and associate, Sabrina "Jaleesa" Jalees.

The whole livelong afternoon I was so excited and so sure of what I would be wearing - basically every 6 months I'll buy an outfit that will be my go-to dress-up outfit. Initially I purchased this particular ensemble for a Slice Network pilot I was up for, so I figured I might as well get some mileage out of it. Thing of it is/was: it was a white blazer. It takes a lot of pomp and/or circumstance to wear a white blazer, in my opinion. It had to be fair weather, or else Imma look like a douchebag... and indeed, yesterday afternoon looked to be the picture of fair weather, so there was nothing to worry about. Yeah. Then a hurricaine cometh three seconds after I get into a cab. NOW I'M A DOUCHEBAG WEARING A WHITE BLAZER IN A HURRICAINE!!!

Luckily, I just tried to impress the fact that I was a living, breathing homage to Miami Vice all night long, and people seemed to buy it. So alls well that ends well on that front.

Not great? The actual party. Wow. Wow wow wow it sucked. Hard. The entire thing was supposed to be some Eco-soiree with live performances by musical acts I'd never heard of that included some banjo duo, a singer-songwriter girl-with-guitar who looked like a goth blow-up doll and some beatboxer with the zeal of a children's entertainer. And of course, Miss Jalees EmCee-ing everything (pictured to the left, to the left... me, with CoCo and Jaleesa).

The entire concept is another topic all together, though. Along with admission, you received a drink ticket for a glass of organic wine or an organic beer. I think three plates of hors d'oeuvres came around and they were all low-grade vegan swill. The gift bag, reportedly priced at over $100, contained a few measly organic exfoliant scrubz and some organic pasta. The "fashion show" portion of the evening, showcasing organic fashions or some shit, was entirely underwhelming.

All in all, the "Eco-friendly" theme of the evening was exactly that: a theme. It might as well have been "Under the Sea" or "Pimps & Hos" - no one could have cared less about the actual cause. Meh.

So at the stroke of 11, CoCo and I piled into a cab still ravenously hungry for a good time and headed down to the Drake where the absolutely radiant and talent Dini "DiniLicious" Dimakos was holding court for her birthday party. Here's me and Licious to the right...

You're not likely to e'er see me down Queen West West way, as it's about a hemisphere away from where I live on the Danforth. For realz, I was down to the Gladstone for a show on Monday and it took me no less than 50 minutes to do so! OUTRAGEOUS!

Anyballs, it was reasonable pandimonium there as the after party for TUFF (Toronto's Urban Film Festival... see how that acronym works there?... I always wished my alma matter, Queen's University had an International Film Festival... because that would be called QUIFF. And knowing how abreviation-happy Queen's is, I can imagine the events committe would go by QUIFFE... but that's neither here nor there...) - So yes... it was a raucos Saturnalia in full swing by the time we got there.

I was understandably hesitant about showing up to the Drake wearing a white blazer as I thought it would be a douchebag siren of sorts. Howevs, I both pleasantly surprised and confounded to see that not one but TWO gentlemen in Dini's party were also bedecked in white blazer.

Naturally, we rolled up our sleeves and channelled the Vice.

What's crazy? That Miami Vice logo wasn't photoshopped into the picture - nono. We looked SO accurate that it appeared out of thin air.

B'anyway... I vamoosed around quarter after 1 and it astoundingly took me less than half an hour to get home. I credit the power of the white blazer.

That's basically it. Tomorrow: a long overdue Haute Topics.

--- Aj

That 4/11 Blog... I mean, 9/11 Blog...

Happy September 11th!!!

Or not. It's generally not cause for celebration... unless you're a terrorist. Then shooooot, this is like y'alls Fanksgivin' day or sumpin'!

But yes, a solemn day for the rest of us.

Can you honestly believe today marks the sixth anniversary of 9/11? It seems like yesterday. Of course, 9/11 is the pivotal "remember where you were when" moment of my generation, akin to Kennedy being shot or Lance/Neil/Buzz Armstrong setting foot on the moon. Prior to 9/11, all my generation had was Princess Diana dying, so I'm thankful for the magnitude of 9/11 - glass half-full, anyone? Anyone care for lemonade? Because I just made some. Out of previously unappetizing lemons. SHAZAM!

What am I even talking about right now? I'm a little hungover and am heading into my second week without carbs, which is slowly driving me insane in the membrane but that's neither here nor there.

Ah yes - 9/11. I remember where I was. It was the second day of school in my second year back at Queen's University. I wasn't in class, though - I was working. At the ever-popular campus coffee hutch, Common Ground - it was like the Central Perk of Queen's, and I, it's Rachel Green. I was just muddling away, manning m'cash regista, when all of a sudden I see a barrage of comfortably attired (everyone wore pajama pants at Queens... every day was casual Friday) co-eds coming from every angle and heading into the QP (the Queen's Pub... everything was abbreviated at Queen's) which was right down the hall from the CoGro (I'm not lying... abbreviated... everything) in a frenzy to end all frenzies.

"THE WORLD TRADE TOWERS HAVE BEEN HIT BY A PLANE!" they screamed. "THEY'RE SAYIN' IT'S TERRORISM" they yelped. "WHO LET THE DOGS OUT?!" they tumpeted, as it was a popular song at the time.

I refused to believe it and thought it was being exaggerated. Like, I thought some two-seater jet crashed into the Prudential tower in Newark, New Jersey or something considerably smaller scale, but as it turned out, I'd be a monkey's uncle - the towers had indeed, been hit.

I think people forget how BATSHIT NUTS everything was around that time. Like, do you remember how panicked, terrified and humourless everyone was? For a substantial period of time, too. I remember going for drinks with two friends, Mike and Karen, that night and all we could talk about was what our exit strategy if New York was nuked - a genuine concern at the time... I remember my mother calling me and crying, fearing that "[I] could be drafted"... someone sent me the photo to the left, to the left, and I actually thought it was real... it took good friend and confidante Laura DiLabio reasoning with me for hours... "Andrew, of all things, do you honestly think a funsaver camera could survive swimming in molten steel?" She had a point.

And now we're all cozied up in a post-9/11 world. After a brief period of patriotism and global unity it's been a hasty descent into skepticism at every turn. The Canadian dollar went up, and the Canadian entertainment industry collapsed on it's face. Then, attempting to get up, fell on it's ass and broke everything from the waist down. And of course, people inherently look at anyone wearing traditional Muslim garb with a raised eyebrow. Golden age, much?

Anyway - to 'celebrate' the 6-year anniversary, Osama Bin Laden came out of hiding, put on his best party dress and delivered another lonnnng-overdue searing threat. You can read the details of it HERE. Pretty standard terrorist diatribe fare... "blessed are those who have died for Allah"-blah blah blah... urging young Muslim men to join in the fight for Islam blah blah blah... drilling home the point that the promised afterlife is so much better than this world, comparing this world to a "wing of a Mosquito"... all in all, very disappointing. The hot-button issue seems to be about him dyeing his beard. Which he totally did. And I can't imagine he could have gone into a public salon, so he totally did it at home. I'd have to imagine using L'Oreal's Signature Terrorist Beard kit, but that's me. I'm imaginative.

But yeah, he's basically just up to the same old tricks. Basically.

So all things considered over the past three days - whose comeback was more disappointing? Osama Bin Laden or Britney Spears?

I'd urge you to vote HERE.

And with that, I'm off. To put flags at half-mast and the like.

--- Aj

The Fat Lady Has Sung/Gimme LESS...

First off...

It is downright DISGRACEFUL that I only clocked in two posts last week. I'm so deeply sorry for that and will furiously overcompensate this week as a result.

Second off...

Considerably more disgraceful than the fact that I only clocked in two posts last week - BRITNEY ASSFUCKING SPEARS AT THE MTV VMA'S LAST NIGHT.

Wowinabadway.

I think that a live feed to a chess match at the Special Olympics would have been a better intro. To say that she was phoning it in would be the understatement of the year. Bitch performed like it was a wet Q to Q rehearsal and looked so, so much worse.

I think every girl in the world who developed an eating disorder because of Britney Spears and her former body - that completely unattainable one that was a product of being in the gym for 6 hours a day - came to their fucking senses last night. As is evidenced to the left, to the left, yeah... bitch has clearly got some rings around her trunk nowadays.

For serious, if I looked like that, I'd be more inclined to perform in a burka. Even if I was having a super-confident day, at least a pair of old-fashioned swimming trunks. Bad. BAD BAD BAD!!!!!

Now, I'm by no means scorned by this as some people are, as I am not nor have e'er I been a fan of Britney Spears. As per required, I enjoy "Stronger", "I'm A Slave 4 U" and "Toxic" as much as any other homo, but I've always been counting down the days until her expiration. Honestly, it seems like she's been resting on the 59th second of the 59th minute of her 11th hour since 199fucking9. I swear.

I judge people's character by whether or not they think she's the Madonna of our generation - which, by the way, I don't believe exists. If m'arm were to be twisted about this matter, I'd say if anyone, she's the Janet Jackson of our generation - although she makes Janet Jackson's career seem swimmingly on track by comparison. Any time I meet someone that worships Britney I'm like, "really? That's the example of feminine power you relate to? Wow. You have the depth of a wading pool, m'friend". Bottom line is: I just don't get it.

Another thing I don't get: WHY SHE BOTHERS TO WEAR THAT LITTLE HEAD SET MICROPHONE AT ALL!!! If you're going to blantantly lipsync, just fucking do it asshole and don't even pretend to pretend to pretend that you're not! I seem to recall Madonna's riveting opening performance of "Vogue" at the 1990 VMA's - an exquisite performance borrowing its theme from Marie Antoinette's boudoir and the French Renaissance court - and she didn't fuck around. No mics, no bullshit.

There's no pretense of singing (although they certaingly were insistent on having the sound effects of the fans unfurling)! But it was still one of the most ass-rocking performances specifically opening performances in the MTV VMA history. Sigh.

I've always watched the MTV VMA's dotingly - did you know that the first ceremonies back in 1984, the ones where Madonna sang "Like A Virgin" in a wedding gown and writhed around and shit, were hosted by Dan Ayckroyd and Bette Midler? Yep... they were the Dane Cook's and Sarah Silverman's of yesteryear.

I consider it such a barometer of pop-culture - or at least, it used to be.

This year was nothing short of abysmally bad - Britney's aforementioned 'comeback' spectacular... the constant bleeping-out of a performance of "Smack That" by the world's most beloved and successful rapist, Akon... Fergie not being present to accept the award for "Best Female Artist"... Fergie actually winning "Best Female Artist"... Fergie actually existing in the first place... - a few humorous hijinks saved this year's festivities from coming in below the holocaust of the senses that was the 2005 VMA's.

Among them:

... Current youtube "It" Girl, Miss Teen South Carolina Caitlin Upton (she's since dropped the Lauren) admirably and immaculately spoofing herself while giving out voting information for Best New Artist or some shit. It was the third "such as" that put me over the top, I don't know 'bout y'all...

... Alicia Keys - shock of shock - ACTUALLY SINGING!!!?!?!?!!! That was nuts. Well, not really. It was a performance that would have been easily middle-tier at the Grammy's, but in contrast to the dud after dud this evening had to offer, it was shimmeringly standout.

... Tommy Lee and Kid Rock's "white-on-white violence". Yep. Two members of the "we've thrown our hot dogs down Pamela Anderson's hallway"-club got into a fistfight during the Alicia Keys performance. The cause of the fight? Unknown. Although it was presumably over who's a bigger douchebag. Too close to call.

... Although the world in general seems to be over Sarah Silverman, she's still a goddess to me, and I find anything that spews out of her mouth hilarious and ingenius. Sure she made fun of Britney's kids (who the fuck doesn't?) - in fact, it's rumoured that Britney's performance was so lacklustre because she heard what Sarah was going to be saying in her opening monologue during dress rehearsal and that threw her off/put her in a spell - but when Sarah gave birth to this quote: "Amy Winehouse is Jewish, right? Because if not, someone better let her face know that"... This guy = lost it. Wow.

All in all... DISAPPOINTING! But I still produced a reasonably girthy writeup on it, so all's well that end's well.

Ending well,

--- Aj

BusyBusyBusy

D'afternoon...

Hopes this finds you smiling...

I'm retardedly busy today so here's a few things...

A.) This item to the right is officially the greatest thing I've ever seen.

Whomever did this deserves the assfucking Nobel Peace Prize.

B.) YES, THAT IS ME ON THE PROMOS FOR FAMILY GUY ON OMNI.

Yeppers. People keep asking me, "did I see you giggling wearing a green shirt promoting The Family Guy on OMNI?". Answer: Yes. I shot those in June. It was two tonnes of fun.

I have yet to see them, though. And I'm telling you, I'm watching OMNI as much as I humanly can. I'm wiped.

C.) THE HOTNESS TO THE LEFT, TO THE LEFT IS COMING TO THE MTV VMA'S THIS SUNDAY.

Yeppy. Britney's opening the show. The entire shabadoo is to be directed by rumored beau and notable mind-freak, Criss Angel.

It's going to be a trainwreck. Literally. I predict that he's going to try and make a train disappear or something as part of the act and it's going to go horribly awry, people will die and Britney will accidentally have a nip-slip or something.
It's not to be missed.

D.) THIS IS HIS SIGNATURE LOOK: SHIA LEBEOUF EDITION.

That's all I have to say about that.

Happiness,

--- Aj

That Teenage Shenanigans Blog

D'afternoon, muggles...

My head is positively spinning at the fact that I haven't been able to blog in two-count 'em-two days... and you know who's to blame for that? Squarely - Eve.

Yes, rapper Eve of "Let Me Blow Ya Mind" featuring Gwen Stefani fame. And her utterly craptacular video for "Tambourine" that's part of an episode of Video On Trial that I'm shooting tomorrow... I've watched it like 80 times and have about 3 things to say about it. But they're real hum-dingers, let me tell ya.

So anyway I was kinda freaking out about that last night and my planned blog fell by the wayside...

SO much has happened since last I blogged: The View made it's 11th season premiere with new co-host and moderator Whoopi Goldberg... Jerry Lewis called one of his production assistants an "illiterate faggot" live on his telethon (is anyone constantly amazed that this man is still alive?)... Whoopi Goldberg defended Michael Vick and his penchant for dog fighting on The View... Closeted gay senator and purveyor of bathroom shinanigans Larry Craig is set to resign amongst controversy from his recent arrest... Barbara Walters announced that a new co-host will be announced this coming Monday on The View... ... ... more stuff happened on The View...

But what I've REALLY been wanting to talk about is a trend that's sweeping the nation called "Fire In The Hole"...

Alright. I have no idea where this originated - although I'm going to bet it was in a city the size and cultural profile of my hometown, Brockville, Ontario - but I find it both so fucking entertaining and so fucking wrong I can't even tell you.

"Fire In The Hole" involves mangy suburban, teenage males with youthful exuberance to burn driving up to a drive-thru at a fast food restaurant, getting food and the most jumbo-sized drink possible, then yelling "FIRE IN THE HOLE" and throwing it in the drive-thru attendants face... and, of course, this is all caught on tape and put online:

Yes.

If you just laughed at that you'll be joining me in hell. It looks like it'll be a pretty gregarious group down there, at least.

Wow - that's just insane. It's so much more devious and high-tech than the pranks we would play in high school... the jackassery I was involved in was ridiculously harmless and very inside-joke-ish...

I think the worst thing we got up to was making collect calls. For real. Hours would be spent doing this on Friday nights and Saturday afternoons.

Here's how it worked: we'd go to a group of pay phones - usually a kiosk at the majestic Thousand Islands Mall as they couldn't trace it - dial zero plus the number - usually in Nanaimo, British Columbia as we randomly knew that exchange for some reason - and the games begun. You were greeted by an automated message saying "thank you for using Bell Canada collect. At the tone please record your name..." and then you had 3 seconds to say something... then it'd say "thank you, your call is being connected..." - THEN THE GREATEST THING IN THE WORLD HAPPENED - the person would pick up, be greeted by this automated message saying "Hello, this is Bell Canada. You have a collect call from... [insert whatever bizarro name we used, usually said humorously]... if you wish to accept the charges, please press 1... etc..." -

Now... why is this amazing? Because you could hear the person on the other end flailing around being like "Becky? Who's Becky? George, do we know a Becky?" BUT THEY COULDN'T HEAR YOU!!! Yep... it was like being on the favorable side of a two-way mirror!

It was amazing. And you'd be astounded how many people accepted the charges - only to find us hanging up or general crank call fare... a-la "Is your refrigerator running? Better go catch it" etc etc etc... anyway - FUN!

Another one of my favourite shinanigans to get up to was a game called "Pretend grocery shopping". It was precisely that: we'd go into a grocery store and fill an entire cart until it was brimming with the most random groceries, then blatantly ditch it. I remember this one time we piled a cart full with only these exotic, hairy bananas, Count Chocula and Spam.

Oh to be a mangy, teenstache sporting delinquent again. Those were heady days.

The headiest.

In other news,

An adorable little gal from Newfoundland named Amelia started a my official facebook fanclub. [read: I had nothing to do with this!]

Initially, I was mortified. But I've now grown to accept, embrace and celebrate it... if you want to join it - and I can't imagine why you wouldn't - go HERE: http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=4591656987

Happy September,

--- Aj

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