things i've recently discovered

- i'm so happy crad kilodney finally got a blog. i've been itching for new material for years. sure, it doesn't have the same feel as his little self-published books that i could read on the subway while onlookers gave me weird looks for holding something bearing the name 'excrement' or 'putrid scum', but the material is still as comforting and amazing as it always was. here's one story i found rather entertaining:

http://cradkilodney.wordpress.com/2008/08/28/i-killed-sanjay-gidwani/

- erik makes the best hamburgers

- there are way too many babies at the dufferin mall

freak magnet

Last night while at work a fat old man told me that sticking his finger in a hole where a doorknob used to be made him feel like a man because putting his finger in something in order to open it made him feel like a man. I really didn't know how to respond to such a statement.
It kinda reminded me of something that happened to me a couple years ago when I worked at a used bookstore on Yonge street:

A man came into the store today. He was wearing a curly sixties style blonde wig and pink lipstick. He had on a woman's green felt coat over a red silk dress puffed out by an assortment of petticoats and blue bloomers. His legs were covered in white cotton tights and his feet were adorned in black baby doll slippers. He basically looked like an overgrown unshaven Shirley Temple on acid.
He walked over to the adult novels and scanned the selection. While he walked around I noticed a jingling of a cowbell coming from beneath the petticoats. It had been a long boring winter day so I had to ask.
"What's that ringing?"
"Oh..Is it that obvious?" He answered bashfully.
"Well yeah. You kinda sound like a cow."
"It's all part of my humiliation."
"Humiliation?"
"Yeah well you see a couple years back my wife found out I had depleted her bank account gambling."
"What sorta gambling?"
"Oh casinos. Black jack mainly. You see she gave me a choice. Either I pay her back, which I knew I could never do or I subject myself to humiliation. You see I am what you call a sissy."
"A sissy? What you mean this is a common thing?"
"It's a woman's society that makes it their business to humiliate men. We are forced to wear petticoats and curtsy every time we meet a lady." He held up the sides of his petticoats and slid his left foot behind his right and bowed. "Do you know how to curtsy?" he asked.
"Well no...I'm not a sissy."
"Yeah, I didn't think so."
"The bell was actually put on a couple days ago. My wife inserted it through my penis. It's supposed to draw attention to my petticoats."
"It sure does the trick."
"I had to be circumcised to get it done. My foreskin is on display at the women's society building."
"Oh..that's harsh."
I have to wear a chastity belt as well."
"How do you go to the bathroom?"
"Well it's kinda hard because it's metal and slips on the seat, but there's a hole for it to come out. I have to take bubble baths in order to wash because it's impossible to get into the belt to scrub. She also put ball stretchers on me."
"Ball stretchers?"
"Yeah they're like two baseballs that fit onto my testicles. They weigh them down so they'll stretch. They've already stretched six inches. Eventually they'll hang past my petticoats. "
"That's gonna be pretty humiliating."
"That's what I get for gambling all my wife's money away. It's an interesting thing being subservient to women. In the women's society us sissy's are considered below young girls in their hierarchy. I've learned a lot since becoming a sissy. I've learned a lot about women. You are by far a superior species." He curtsied.
"How's my lipstick?" He smiled at me, pink smudges on his teeth and throughout his stubbled chin.
"Oh it's fine. Is that coral?"
"No...it's peachy keen."
He pulled off his wig and fixed himself up in the security mirror. His hair was thinning black and greasy. He brushed it back and pulled the wig back on. "Well it's been nice chatting with you."
"Likewise."
He curtsied and walked out, his jingling echoing down the street.

finally had a couple days off work. managed to do some painting. here's one based on the parting words of a lover's quarrel.

had a weird dream last night. there was a murderer in the house so i went to 7 11 where numerous people tried to talk me out of buying a peanut butter o'henry.

the theme song to alf is the gayest song ever written.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zE52L7YBKfU