Friday, November 28, 2014
Black Friday is relatively new to Canada and dumb as fuck. (I did, though, purchase some really justifiable sneakers from SSENSE.) This is not a holiday for us. We have to enter our vocation and stay there for eight whole hours leaving no time for us to shop. Wait, what is that? Oh, it has extended to the whole weekend. Great.
Is this America's attempt at trying to assimilate Canada into their belligerent capitalist ideals?
At your office or in your bedroom (because you are an unemployed writer), skip Black Friday by learning Aaliyah's dance moves from Rock the Boat. If you want, dance in costume with blue denim and a white crop top showing your midriff.
Change position, change position and coast.
Tuesday, November 25, 2014
There is always that particular person on your holiday list that seems to be a proprietor of everything and every year you contemplate: "what else does this fucker need that he/she doesn't already have?" Everyone loves a tiny horse.
If there's one thing I truly, undeniably don't believe in, it's parties where I'm coerced into a certain dress code. The exception to this is Halloween. This weekend, for $142.20 + surcharges, you can get access to copious amount of shitty fucking beers and inebriated alpha bros at Bud Light's
Saturday, November 22, 2014
The consumer season -- also known as Christmas -- is fast approaching and to no one's surprise, Beyonce drops a re-release of her self-titled album because why the fuck not ($$$). I'm not the type to order an eggnog and spend hours holiday shopping because that shit is depressing and I'm really just trying to ruin capitalism. That doesn't mean that I still can't enjoy myself. So, on this melancholic Saturday, I went to a holiday pop-up shop and purchased nothing.
Thursday, November 20, 2014
As an occasional subway rider, because sometimes life exists north of Bloor and east of Yonge, I intentionally comply to the mores of subway use. I pay my fare, I walk, not run to the platform, okay, sometimes I run and if a seat is a available, I quietly take my seat. Legs closed. I talk to no one because this is 2014.
In New York City, island of convoluted subway routes and a plethora of men appearing to give birth on the subway, is championing a campaign for men to deconstruct their masculinity. Closing your legs won't make you less of a man. You'll look polite, courteous and avoid the possibility of having a dick slip or a ball bulge. The campaign commences in January hoping to deter men of this heinous, albeit legal activity of spreading ones legs to consume more than their shared space.
The campaign is titled, "something new, something fresh." Sounds like a nice slogan for new douche users.
Monday, November 17, 2014
This morning, residents of Toronto woke up to an amalgamation of rain and snow with feelings of confusion and possible reclusiveness. Let's inquire further by asking imperative questions. Do you call in sick and tell them your dog died? Do you bring an umbrella with you? Do you wear rain boots of snow boots or one on each? Rain jacket or winter coat? Are gloves appropriate? Sure. Toques? Yes, but not those fucking ridiculous looking 180 earmuffs.
Why? Because you do not want to look like you've aged 40 years and appear to still be living in the suburbs.
I feel, and you should too, that the 180 earmuffs, to a high degree, are redundant and will most likely not get you laid. If getting laid is your main concern, I suggest you burn them, douse it with gasoline and set that shit on fire. (Burning them will not actually get you laid.)
What I suggest, like it has been with the vikings, that you purchase a quintessential and functional toque to keep you warm. It will get you laid.* If you already own a toque, I am happy that you are having copious amounts of sex.
*I can't guarantee that unless you are professionally suave.
Wednesday, November 12, 2014
Since its evidently sweater week here on Pacific Row and with the weather being conducive to the aforementioned knitwear -- why not look to none other than swooning lead singer of Vampire Weekend and professional sweater wearer Ezra Koenig for style advice. Somewhere in the previous sentence could have used a period, or a semi-colon.