celebrate life

    I started this morning off by coffee with the bio-parents. It was a little rough because all I really wanted to do was sleep. I've come to realize that these two little monsters will never let that happen. Talking with Bio-Mom reminds me that this life started out with her having to make brave choices at a young age. It was 1973 and to have a child out of wedlock, or any alternatives including being a single mother was exceptionally difficult. Fortunately (for me) she decided to have me, then allow another family to take me in. It's tough not to thank my lucky stars for the chance I've been given. It wasn't the easiest start for me, but it's been hard for  many others. I think that I'm aware of it, is the thing that motivates me. Constantly reminding myself that I can do more. I'm trying to harness my exuberance for telling stories into a career, to raise my kids in a loving and open household. Not drink so much!

The lesson today was, "you are here for a reason." I'm not smart enough to know why, but I know that. I spent a long time being suspicious of the phrase everything happens for reason, because it didn't seem realistic. Even if I don't necessarily believe it, I can certainly accept that it may be possible. It took a shitload of circumstances to land me on this planet, and a shitload more to get me to today. If anything, I should show those occurrences some respect. Even though I have been accused of egotism, narcissism, and a few other isms, I'm harder on myself than anyone. I believe that I owe the people that have aided my maturity(or lack of).

I know...Deep

The reason I'm delving into this is because of the rest of my day was at a Celebration of Life ceremony for my friend Tyler Wright. Last year Tyler went hiking in Squamish and did not return. For weeks the Search and Rescue did their diligence through the forest looking for signs, but eventually called it off. It's no fun having to see familiar faces, and old friends under such duress. Having to share pain and smiles in the same sentence. I did what I usually do. Make jokes, try and make people laugh. It's not because I don't know how to deal with death, its because I'm more articulate with this keyboard, and a cold beer. I wish I didn't have a history of seeing death around me. but I do.

I know how much easier it is for us to categorize people after they're gone, but I can sincerely say that Tyler was special. Tyler had an infectious personality, and truly moved everyone that he touched. All you had to do was hear one story from today and watch everyone in the room nod simultaneously. We all knew the language, the energy, and the exuberance of Tyler. As a kid I was jealous of his ability to be involved in any situationn with such ease. There was a genuine quality that you hoped would rub off on you. In 1990 I was in a car accident with six other people, one of which was Tyler's sister. When the doors of the ambulance opened Tyler's was the first face I saw. There was comfort in that. His eyes were wide and red as he watched us all being carted in the ER. He Nodded to me with a reassurance that I'll never forget. The last time I saw Ty was about seven years ago at Wayne Gretzky's restaurant. I turned around after hearing someone say "Hrushowy?" Nobody in Toronto ever called me that, so I immediatly reacted.  His big looming smile,a blue afro and those gigantic feet. I wish I'd seen him more over the past years. I wish I had five more minutes to say five more things.

I love the phrase Celebration of Life. It is concise and perfect.

Make sure you do more of it. Yours and the lives of the people around you.

power to the people

                 I usually save my utter disappointment with public officials for those south of the border. I find myself shaking my head at some evangelic nimrod who tells his constituents that abortion is murder, but murdering the doctors that performs them is just. Frankly it's the kind of thing that really bothers me. People protesting funerals, hiding behind the phrase "family values" and then condemning everyone that doesn't agree. How is it possible to say "God loves everyone, except for..." The same country who's past is littered with discrimination elects an African-American as president, then vetoes gay marriage on the same ballot. This is the kind of ironic sarcasm I save for my friends down south.

and then I read about this guy: Marc Dalton

A BC Liberal MLA who once compared homosexuality to gambling, pornography and abortion used time in the legislature Oct 18 to promote a church whose leader believes homosexuality can be cured.

Maple Ridge-Mission MLA Marc Dalton praised the UK-based Alpha organization as “a free forum where people can meet to discuss God, the afterlife and the teachings of Christ.”

First of all, this jack-ass uses a quote from Winston Churchill on his web-page. Wonderfully ironic considering the amount of people that believed that Churchill himself was a closet homosexual. Maybe that's how he heard about Alpha? Perhaps Mr. Dalton is letting on more about himself then I thought. It's one thing to start spouting off about curing homosexuality, it's another comparing them to gambling, pornography and abortion. Two of which I've participated  in today. He's public official, who's voice speaks for the people, and he's also school teacher. Is this his opinion or that of his constituents? They're supposed to be the same when he speaks in public. Are the parents of his students aware that he may be trying to cleanse them of their human nature? That's an awkward parent-teacher interview.

What's worse for me, is that I keep trying to defend Maple Ridge to my wife, and then people like this speak up. She's already wondering why I'm so fucked up.  Just by stating his "beliefs" he is creating tension within his school. Kids, teachers and parents alike are going to know that if they support what our government, and society deem as acceptable he of, he isn't. How is Mr.Dalton going to defend a child bullied for his\ or her sexuality? No one will be able to trust his judgment, or lack there of.

Kids have it hard enough, and living in Maple Ridge no less. For me Mr.Dalton has to answer for his actions. The thing is he knows this. He worked in high schools. He feeds homeless and promotes unity. To bad he's got a case of the crazies.

And we have the cure.

Fortunately we can hold him accountable. After all he's a public official.

can I give you some advice?

The other day I was looking for a Burger King for a Whopper. I didn't quite know where it was and ended up in a strip mall. I stopped at a crosswalk and waited for an older lady to cross. The parking lot was empty, and it was Sunday morning. I looked around for the BK sign, but had clearly taken a wrong turn.

Then something weird happened.

The lady that crossed stopped after she got to the other side and was saying something. I rolled down my window and heard, "I looked over to thank you, but you weren't even looking in my direction. You didn't even see me."

Are you fucking kidding me? I replied to her, "Of course I saw you. That's why I stopped." She shrugged and waved me off. "Look lady, If you're not laying in the parking lot gasping for air then I fuckin saw you. I didn't know that I was obligated to acknowledge your thank you."

I don't have a lot of complaints about my new\old home, but there's one thing kinda gettin me. It's the influx of people offering to tell me about everything. This lady upset that I didn't see her "thank you"? What kind of insecurities are you dealing with, when you need to be validated after thanking someone.

While telling this story to another Vancouverite, they commented that I shouldn't feed my children fast food. Now I dont' want to get off on rant here, but I think I'm done with people without kids wanting to give me advice about parenting. It's nice that you think that you know better with no frame of reference, and I'm sure I was the same...actually no I wasn't. I didn't know a thing about kids and had no intention of learning.

 People constantly tell me what we should do, buy, and teach our children. So the next time I'm at the mall and you see me(or any other parent) and I look like shit. I'm half asleep, and have been amassing nickels from the car to buy some shit from a candy machine that my three year old has been yelling about for two hours. By the way, that three year old is soaking wet because the diaper shift when he was kicking me in the nuts while I tried to buckle his seatbelt. The seat of my car is forever damaged because this happens all the time. That pee has mixed with the numerous kinds of cereal that he likes to throw at me when I'm driving. So, I pretty much feel like I pay $400 a month so that my kids can destroy it. I've been up for seven hours and it's 11:00am, because the older one had a climbed into bed with me, but slept upside down and filled my mouth with her feet.

I don't know if it's the title of "One of the Best cities in the world" that give some people in the 604 the right to constantly give their opinion. It's as if the some sort of commentary is in titled to all that reside.
 "The lights are to bright on BC Place."

 "We want bike lanes, but not those bike lanes."

It's answering the question that has not been asked. So let me join in...

It's okay to be a little rough around the edges for a city. I don't want to wait in line to get into a bar, then wait in line at the bar. My service shouldn't be based on my turn, it should be based on how much I tip.
 Also, just because it's sunday doesn't mean that the entire world has the day off, so speed up when your walking.
Finally, any "Advice" about what coffee I drink, car I drive, or food I eat, that is not accompanied with the funds to heed your suggestion, will not taken!!


PS- I agree that the referees hate the Canucks!

and then...

 I have nothing to say.
...okay not true, because I always have something to say. Whether it's important or not!

Anyway, Knit toques in summer. What the fuck? Is this seriously a look that your want to portray? It's ridiculous. It's dumb. If I wore shorts and crocks in the middle of winter, but still pretended I was super-hip, you'd all think I was an asshole. It's the equivalent of Ontario people who say the like the cold. Shut up! It sucks.

The whole Vancouver Vs Toronto thing has got to stop. First of all to the players on both side of the table...If you haven't lived in both places you're not allowed to play. Don't give me some shit about how the people are rude in "the centre of the universe", but you're judging me like my previous job was GM of the Maple Leafs. Some jack ass here started a petition to get a baseball team in Vancouver, and his tag was, "we can beat Toronto!" At what. World Series wins? So stupid. Now to all the people that live back in the T.O., please don't find the most beautiful parts of B.C. and say you don't like it. I think mountains are dumb, and I hate the beach. Nobody hates the beach!!

 And we can go in the water here, granted it's fucking freezing.(I thought you like the cold!)

I'm hooked on America's Got Talent. I think it's how they should decide on everything in the USA. More People voted for the velvet voiced Landau Eugene Murphy Jr, than for any republican candidate. Fuck this every four year thingy, every year new guy voted on by the people, for the people.

My biggest guilty pleasure right now is watching inflated pride. People that think (ugh, KNOW) they are smarter and better than the masses. Those people that shout into there smartphones on the street. Or don't text in a club. People that look around the room to make sure that at least one other person can see how awesome they are. Guys that have  bulge of beer dripping over a cinched in belt, screaming what Peyton Manning should've done. Of course you know, you drive a truck. These people light up my life. You should thumb your nose at me for not knowing about different kinds of lox, you work at Safeway. You're the garbage man, why wouldn't I listen to your advice about my car. Because of all of these reasons, and more(the more being my wife's choice of TV) I can now openly admit... I watch Bachelor Pad!!

This might truly be one of the great gems in television. Other reality shows may be as good, but I wouldn't know. They bother me. Big Brother, more like Oh Brother. Survivor? Come on. Leave these idiots on an island and come back in a month. There's your winner. Hell, that imbecile from The View is famous from being on that show. Theses people on the Pad are unreal. First of all, they all talk as if something they are saying or doing is actually important, or relevant. They then say vulnerable things about themselves, all while being filmed. It's awesome. They think so highly of themselves, and the way they "play the game". I hope that they watch the show when it airs, but I'm sure they won't find it as funny as I do. As a student of writing for Film and Television, I can say this...You Could Not Write This Shit!!

It's that *good!

* by good I mean Bad

so much to say

It's been a while since we've talked, but I thought that I would check in...

Back kickin it on the west coast and all is good...except the weather. I made a lot of wild promises about Vancouver and for some reason the lack of sun has come a bit too early. That being said, it's not 40 with a humidex of 900, and we're not planted in front of the air conditioner. Those days in Toronto are like someone shoving a hair dryer in your mouth, while wearing a wool snuggy, and blasting lasers into your retinas. So no real complaints yet.

 The best part of being somewhere(kinda) new, is wearing the rose colored glasses while enjoying the city. The wife and kids arrived the day of the "Stanley cup riots", but didn't see anything because they fell asleep from jet lag. The next day all of the nice Vancouverites had the city cleaned up before they saw anything. They thought people swept the streets every morning. (and they still think that!)

A couple of rants.
pot heads) Okay I get it. It's B.C. and everyone knows everyone, that has a grow-op, blah blah blah. I'm all for the legalization, and taxation, and I don't even smoke. However, I think the stigma is gone so the secretive, hoody pulled down act can go. I don't think you're tough, I think you're a douche. Oh you're a drug dealer on the eastside, I think I'd rather work at KFC. Also making "Cannabis Day" June 1st is fuckin disrespectful! Pick another date you degenerates. You can celebrate Canada day on the 1st, then get high every other day, like you're going to do anyway!!! Only a bunch of unpatriotic idiots think smoking pot in public is some sort of risque thing...as I said it's B.C. It smells like pot on the streets of every neighborhood.

commuters) Sure it's fuckin douche in Toronto, and they'll step on your mother to get on the street car first, but here it's the exact opposite. If you're late in Vancouver, don't expect to find the fast lane among your fellow morning folk. You're late for a $20k class of watching the Simpsons, and everyone on the sky walk is dilly-dallying. You'd think with all the coffee sold in this town people would be walking faster.  (Deep Breath)

I'm okay.

 I really don't have a lot to complain about...I take the sea bus to a film school. And I love it. My family is here now, so I'm not drinking myself into a Hemingway...

Three wonderful women had there babies over the past week or so...
congrats to Tara(twins), Chantal, and Dani...boys for the lot of them!!

On a very sad note we lost someone very close to our group. Kevyn and Stacy of http://www.thebestlifeever.com/
lost a member of the immediate family. Cassius was beyond a loyal friend, she was a pillar in their relationship. Whether it was lazy Sundays at baseball, or late night swimming Cassius was there. She held herself with grace and humility, and was an amazing role model and friend to my daughter. You will be greatly missed.

back to school...

Wow. Who would think that a course on writing would keep me so far away from actually doing it. Don't get me wrong it's awesome! I love the idea of braking down stories, characters and scripts. Shit, have the classes are watching movies, so no complaining. My head is spinning around so fast I can barely keep up to my own narrative. Assignments and deadlines now actually exist, unlike when I would create them on my own. Then miss them. Crash courses in high school English, and pep talks about not being a douche to your fellow classmates. After all, one day you might need them.  The coles notes are this....learn the rules and the existing structure, then you can disregard Industry standards.

Okay, enough of the that shit. Let the ranting continue.

On the 26th of April me and friend headed for the west coast from Toronto. I suckered him in with promises of Chicago Cubs in Wrigley field and the possibility of good conversation. Chicago was awesome. I could've slipped right into a life there as long as the word "Gun" never came up. It was very much like Toronto in personality, and architecture. The people were fantastic, and nobody tried to kill me even though it was game 7 of the Canucks vs Blackhawks. I pretended to be a Chi fan and even did some "cheering" when Toews scored near the end of the game. Finally those lost years in acting school were paying off, and probably saving my life. Of course when Burrows eventually potted the winner, the bar rang silent. I skipped off to the bathroom, head sagging in disappointment, then mimed a victory dance in a washroom stall. The first leg of our journey had ended, and  now it was the dreaded 94east highway of boredom.

 I'm sure that places like Minnesota, and North Dakota are actually really nice, and the people are probably fantastic. It wasn't them, it was us. We were hungover and the highlight was over after the first night. Sure the Painted Canyons were beautiful. The waitress in St.Cloud was pleasant. From that point on we knew what to expect. The third night we stayed in Billings Montana, and apparently every open door is a casino. The women's prison is downtown, you can smoke everywhere, and the word "hockey" has absolutely no meaning. We eventually got the waitress in the bar to find the game, and every rifle toting patron looked at us like it was the pride parade, but we stood tall, and cheered quietly.

 The next morning was going to be a big push. We'd fucked our schedule by being hungover on day two, which was supposed to be our longest day, but became our shortest. Now we were going to try and make it all the way to Vancouver by later that evening. There were elongated silences while we gathered ourselves mentally for what we were attempting. Immediately around the first turn were massive mountains. I knew there would be some, but not this size. Most of the land leading to that corner was fairly flat. There were indications that there would be some elevations, but I was shocked. Granted it has been a while since I've seen mountains of any kind, let alone monsters. All of a sudden we realized that we knew nothing of western Montana, and had no idea that we would be driving through the pan handle of Idaho. And that Idaho had  mountains....big fucking mountains. I didn't see a potato anywhere! The new highlight of our journey was this little town off the highway in Idaho called Wallace. It looked as though they were filming an old movie there. All the buildings, and houses were from the 40's. It was crazy. It would be worth the drive out there to stay a few days in historic Wallace.

After that we were in to the 500miles of home stretch. Washington was a sight for sore eyes, and I was thoroughly impressed with gigantic wind farm. It looked so cool. We both started to fade quick in Washington. Sure the GPS, Marilyn, was setting us up for an arrival time of 11:00, but it seemed very far away. The street turned in highway and the peaceful drive through empty spaces was no replaced with the intermittent wipers on the outskirts of Seattle. Seattle was too close, we couldn't give up. We were now heading north, and the signs were counting down to the border. I couldn't wait to be on home soil. Drink a double-double from Timmies, be able to read the road sign without doing math, not fear rednecks. From the border crossing I could see the lights on the mountain guiding me home. I cracked the window to smell the sea air, and two guys had been living in that car for a long time. I was rejuvenated driving along a street I grew up being on.

 We rode Granville right into the city center to visit a friend at his bar. I changed out of my sweat pants and tried to smell better, but it most likely didn't improve. Thank god we were in the hippy capital of Canada. As the beer touched my lips I knew that I couldn't drink it without drinking 40. Ben Smashed back his, and mine and those almost sunk him. We were beat down, tired, and looked dishevelled. We quickly returned to the car for the final ten minutes of our trip. My sister and her boyfriend Chris awaited our arrival with iced cold Kokanee, and roaring fire. Chris lives in this tree-lined house with six foot fences keeping the people out. The path down to the house is led by hanging lights under the over grown branches that create the coolest archway. Guarding the property are two full blooded wolves, Tundra and Tonka. These are the most gorgeous animals,  that howl in tune with distant sirens. I thought I'd maybe fallen asleep at a stop sign and had drifted into Narnia. Of course the B.C. hospitality is gracious, and caring. We ate, we slept. Our journey across the country had ended. It was a wonderful surprise that most of the geography was unknown by either of us, and we think we're smart. We agreed on most things, we solved Major League Baseballs biggest problems, and learned that using your cel phone in the US can be very costly.

 Being here is very bitter sweet for me. It's what I've wanted for a long time, and Film School is an added bonus. Yet, my little ones and partner aren't here. The gorgeous views, and breath taking mountains are lost when  you don't have those you love there to share them. The positive is that it's almost been two weeks, which means that there's only about four to go! Soon we'll be riding bikes around Stanley Park, and playing at Kits beach. Until then I'm going to put my head down, and study. Hopefully the magic of Narnia will speed up the time.

PS- it's Mothers Day. 13 years ago on May 5th my mother died. Her funeral was the Saturday and the following day was Mother's Day, so this day absolutely sucks for me. It has taken on a new meaning since having kids....but still sucks. So please take the time to tell your mother that you love her. Simply because there are plenty of people who cannot. If your Mother has passed, then I raise my glass with you...

it's been one week...

 This past week has been one for the books. I finished my full-time job to pursue, a full-time career as a writer. I'm frightened, nervous, and more than a little scared. I keep finding myself nodding off to sleep just to try and stop thinking about the upcoming events. The people that I leave behind at that restaurant are some very important people. Not only have they supported my writing, they also showed me a lot of Love, and respect as their manager. As always I hope for the best for all of them. I hope they all have the opportunity such as I have to follow their dreams. I realize that it isn't pressure that is on me from people, it's hope. They've all wished me the best and hope that I can achieve a certain amount of success. Enough to house them all to a party at my Malibu mansion, next door to Justin Bieber. We had a shindig on Sunday in which way too much Guinness was ingested, but it was a wonderful event. My drunken words, boob-gazing and off tune singing will most likely be forgotten, except for from my wife who was sober. Poor girl. She told me that while passed out on the couch, I grinned from ear to ear like a school boy.

 The impact of this change has penetrated my subconscious as well. Last night I had the greatest restaurant dream of all time. It's notorious in the serving industry to have nightmares in which you are serving a 14 table section of constant complainers, and people wanting refills, while the kitchen is through a Forrest, and you can never stop being sat. It happens all through the night and when you finally wake up, you're exhausted, and probably have to go to work. Last nights dream started the same as always. I had a big section, three parties, new menu, triple sat, etc. As the first table started to give me attitude, I snickered(in the dream!!) and told them I didn't care. I told them it was my last shift, and then I walked away. Everyone was "disappointed" and I honest to God didn't care. It was some sort of cleansing, and I've stopped stalking that bitch that yelled at me two Sundays ago. I'm getting to old to actually shit on someones lawn, and I shouldn't have promised to.

 When I was a young lad, I used to do prep at the Keg in Maple Ridge and I was the youngest person back there. I was surrounded by mid-thirties prep cooks that exhausted the classic rock hour on 99.3 TheFox radio station. The one lady use to sit there and laugh while I talked nonstop about absolutely nothing. She said to me that I should be a story teller, or something "on TV" It always stuck with me. Here was this woman, who knew nothing about me personally, telling me that she thought I could succeed. I know it sounds a little self-absorbed, but I'm feeling a little low. I'm trying to feed off the confidence that others have in me. And it's not like me to not think highly of my ability. I'm usually the first person to want to hear my own voice.(it's very soothing....it's why I deliberately talk in my sleep) Granted I have a few days in my car to get up the confidence to believe in myself.

Last night was a very difficult time though. I laid in bed with a kid under each arm and thought about the 52 days I'm going to be without thems. That's a lot. I know, I know....people do it all the time. People go off to war, or jail, or jobs that keep them away from their families and they get through. It's just never happened to me before. As Alex grabbed my hand with his little fingers and brought me to his bed for sleep time, I welled up with tears. I mean Elizabeth can talk to me, tell me how she feels, but he just wants crackers and Dora the Explorer. I'll miss his little words, and goofball behaviour. He's going to be growing, and learning, and developing...I just have to believe that I'm creating a job(and hopefully a paycheck) that provides him with a better life. I have to truly believe that the real reason for all of this is for these two. That one day they can have the kind of nonsense reality show based off their fathers success\failure. As Tracey Jordan once said, "I just want to make enough money so that my kids don't have to go to school"

 All jokes aside, this is my final week in Ontario for a while. I gotta nothin to pack, I'm scared and have been breathing into a paper bag all morning. The next two months may produce a shit-load of emotional blogs, but I will continue, and I hope that you'll enjoy my journey. Now I gotta go lay down...

and the weiner is....

Alright, I've been trying my best to stay away from the ins and outs of the political bullshit of our country, but it's bubbled over. I get that people draw distinct lines in the sand about who the vote for, why, and everything else, but aren't we endanger of heading down the comical road of a FOX NEWS north? The SUN media channel is going to be spitting mouthfuls of incendiary bullets at all kinds of topics in order to achieve some sort of personal success. These television personalities are going to believe, and say whatever continues to garner them a paycheck. We have multiple parties and multiple points of view. This mainstreaming of issues to separate sides is going to narrow the field down to two. Of course I understand that it's usually down to two anyway, but the idea that we are truly free to decide amongst 4 or 5 has always been something I celebrated about Canada.

 Of course the candidates are the same faces. One that cares only about one province and secures a shitload of money and seats for a particular group of people, and makes no bones about it. Kinda makes it funny that he would oppose anyone on any other topic considering that he's like the "only child" and just keeps yelling mine. You've got the dude with the eyebrows. He sounds like he's got some good ideas, and represents a little of my personal social beliefs, but his delivery is a touch scary. There's the current PM and stiff. This guy looks as if he's never had a fun day in his life. I've said it before...He's just a kid that didn't get to play with the cool kids so he became Prime Minister just to fuck with them. There's little bald guy, who's intentions are always good. The NDP always seem like they've got the best ideas, solutions, and the best outlook for Canada. But I worry that when they get the keys, they're going to crash us in to the ditch and claim they don't know how to drive standard. And of course the smartest, and most focused on the people and our land Elizabeth May...if only she was allowed to speak in public.

 So what to do? Listen to the conservative nut-jobs that get so angry because you believe in something other than their beliefs? Read the Toronto Sun where Fuck-Face Brian Lilley(soon to be the Canadian Glenn Beck) who took Ignatieff's quote, " Let some Flowers bloom here" and claimed that it was close enough to Zedong Mao's slogan for a campaign called A Hundred Flower Movement. He then took this slogan chopped in half and used it to call Ignatieff a communist sympathizer. I guess something gets lost in translation, but if works for the cause, whatever. I've read some of Brian Lilley work and even in the article he used words that were quite often used by Hitler! I think it's safe to draw a direct line between Brian Lilley using the phrase, "other's followed" with the forming of the Nazi Party. Hey look, I'm a journalist! I guess accuracy in the quote or it's proper translation aren't necessary. After all American politicians have taught us anything is that you can say anything as long as "was not intended to be a factual statement."  (see US SEN Jon Kyl) Brian Lilley has job and that job is to get Harper re-elected and sell newspapers. He also has been linked to the SS (by me) and has touched baby goats with the tip of his penis(not intended to be a factual statement) His article is inflammatory, and his references are stretched. Is he just as hard on Harper?


 I'm sure that SUN media's new channel will fill us with a wonderful omelet of horse manure, and poppycock, but it still leaves me wondering which douche bag is the least douchiest. The truth is the generation that smoked pot, wants it to be illegal. The generation that believed in free love, tried to reverse Gay Marriage. They came from the seeds of arts and music, but claim "Ordinary folks don't care about the arts". Harper said that when he cut 45 million dollars from arts and culture, then went on to play piano with the youtube girl to swing the younger generation in his favour, but failed to tell her not to expect the government to aid her dream in anyway. I know, I know, I'm clearly not a Harper guy, but I'm not sure of anything. Now a days, I got think about what's best for me, my family, my career. Wait a minute....Writer is an artist. I wonder if Brian Lilley knows that, especially since he'll be on TV soon too.

braxton hicks

Throughout the weeks preparing for a cross-country move I realized that I should start making lists. Things I need for the drive, for the first few months. How embarrassing to look at the essentials that you need, when there are only 3 things other than clothes on the list. Computer, Guitar, and...shit I can't think of the third thing. Brutal.

Fortunately I awoke to a wonderful day. Not because I have to stay out of my house while strangers pile through making comments about the stuff I've compiled. And not because I've traded in my afternoon nap for a pint and some wings, but because it's actually a beautiful day. The one thing about living in a winter wasteland is that when the weather breaks, and breaks for good, it can be an amazing revitalization of the soul. Other than those weirdos that claim to "Love" winter, the rest of us power through Seasonal Adjustment Disorder. Locked in a frostbitten world. Our cars are salt covered, our grass has been burnt by snow in some oxymoronic twist.
But then...

One day it's different. We're weary because there are a few teases along the way. A few days in which we don't have zip our jackets to the chin, or wear the second pair of gloves. But then it happens. You run to the car in just a long sleeve and you don't die. You open the door to get the morning paper without the fear that your nuts will lift inside you gullet. All of a sudden you have hope again. Hope that you'll be able to enjoy being outside without being bundled up like the Randy Parker from A Christmas Story. You wash your car, you clean up the dog shit, and garbage off your lawn because the snows melted. It's a new day.

Torontians have the same feeling each year, and the rebirth is a welcome change each spring. In the west coast we didn't have such distinct seasons. It never got super cold, and the ocean prevented the super hot. But southern Ontario draws clear lines in the sand. Today was that first day in what will be many, in which the warmth, humidity and sunshine begin to usurp winter's bone. It's the first day in which you nap with the window open. That cool breeze feathers your toes as you dream of snow capped mountains, the sunset over the ocean, and as much vegetarian food as one can get. (I can't wait to get to Vancouver!!) I'm glad that had a day like this before I left. It was inevitable, but just as the years before this one, I forget about it until it happened. In the same fashion that I try an educate people about how to behave in public, I hope to infuse a small amount of Toronto into the Vancouverites who loathe the Big Smoke. Especially the ones that have never been here. I know I've been spewing shit about Vancouver to the people here that think it rains everyday but three on the wet coast.

As I waste time between lunch and work, I realize I'd be foolish if I didn't take these next few weeks to revel the things I love here. It's like a break up, there are always going to be things that you love still, even if you're getting back with your ex after all these years. Of course the people mean everything. Even now, as I unsocially type this at a crowded bar, a beautiful friend\ waitress\ and possible gift bag thief, reminds me that she hates me, but will miss me. She's one of these gorgeous girls that knows and likes my wife so much,  she dismisses my every advance. I'll miss her too. I've been getting a lot of the "I hate you, but congratulations" It's a wonderfully complicating show of respect and flattery....I hope.

I've said that I would blog about the change, the newness of being back home, but I'm going to be sure to remember all of the things here that have been so memorable. There is no doubt that there's plenty I'll miss. Plenty I'll wish I could be doing. Not to mention the friends that I associate with events, dates and places. In two weeks I begin another chapter in my life, with old friends and new family. If May 2nd, my first day of school, is the true rebirth, today was a pretty serious kick.

The dominos must fall...

The hardest part of the past few weeks wasn't keeping the secret of my move, but more the anxiety about it. It's funny that things that I've wanted to happen for a few years is now happening and I'm freaking out. Last Wednesday I had to put in my notice at work. It was a big step in the western direction. I don't love my job, but I do the people. I think that's universal for a lot of people. There's a tough exchange between loving what you do, and who you do it with, but if you find that you have both...stick with it! I was nervous to purposely become unemployed, but it had to happen. That night I explained to all that would listen about my upcoming changes. Then came Thursday, my day off. I wrote up the blog ch..changes, and sat back to endure the love and kudos from friends and family. It was a wonderful high. Many people encouraged the move even though it would be away from them. Many were happy that I was heading homeward and we would be face to face in just over a month.

 Then came Friday....
Friday I was filled with complete and total fear. I started to question my decision, how plausible it would be. I paced back and forth on the hardwood, running the numbers through in my head. I gotta sell the house, then I gotta get a job, from there I have to pay X amount for rent, and Y amount has to be sent back to T for the mortgage if the house doesn't sell. There's the moving, the driving, the housing, the kids, the cat, the yard, gas money, hotels, food, I gotta bring my bike( it's Vancouver), I need a bike rack, a bag rack, a suitcase, a new computer, clean the bathroom, clean out the basement, wash my work clothes, shave, call the school, pay for school, get an umbrella, wear my Canucks jersey, how is T gonna get around without the car, I'd better fly. I'm afraid to fly, can my guitar go on the plane? what about my bike. How do you use SKYPE? Am I even a good enough writer to make a living at this, and do I have the money? Or do I have the money, and that's why they think I'm good enough..

By 8a.m. I was in a constant state of panic. My collar was tightening around my neck and I wasn't even wearing a shirt. Truthfully I don't have the answer to any of those problems, if there are any. I know that I have the support that I need to carry on. I know that the people that I love believe this will work, and they're good people. I know that I dreamt about having this chance, and I have it. A few weeks ago when I mockingly said that I would forget everyone if I got successful, I failed to remind everyone that I have a 1000 stories, and they are because of the people that I've met. The people I love and hate, those who don't like me, people I vehemently disagree with, people I inexplicably side with. People I worked with for one day, some for years. Some I've misjudged, some that have misjudged me. Lovers, friends, enemies, frenemies, family, associates, friends of friends, acquaintance's, hangers on, that dude that looks like that other dude, the guy who thinks I'm Rob, his girlfriend....

Ontario has been good to me. I've seen Toronto at its best and it's worst. And I'll never forget it. I know that some people around the country find things to hate about Toronto, and there are things, but why. The hockey team sucks, but there were celebrations up and down Yonge street that I'll never forget. I love Toronto Island, the Blue Jays, the Beaches. And I truly love the people that I'm been blessed to call my friends. The few months without my lil ones will be hard, but being away from those that have helped shape who I am, will be harder over time. I have encouraged them all to visit, some I've told to actually move west. I guess I shouldn't be greedy about the opportunity that I already have. But I will! Just like everything that has to happen in order for me to drive away, the dominoes that fall must be in place first. I can only influence my own circumstances. Twenty-five things off the list, twenty-five more added.

ch..ch..changes

Well, I guess it's time to unleash the news...

For the past few weeks I have found myself writing very cryptic blogs, and intense ones over at http://www.cmagnet.blogspot.com/ for the equivalent of writers training. I knew that keeping up the pace words would keep me sharp for any kind of career as writer. I have to learn how to get the little ones some food and throw on Dora the Explorer, but still have the concentration to pen a few lines. The excitement has been building to this...

I have been accepted into the writing program at Vancouver Film School starting May 2nd. This was an opportunity that I had no choice but to take. All the factors became talking points in my house, but ultimately the smartest person in my household, said that I had to go. (you're welcome!) My lovely partner in crime and passion knows how important this is for me, and what a wonderful show of support. Of course this is not without it's challenges. First lets look at the upside...
 1)- I'm going home. As many of you know, I love Vancouver and have missed it's sunsets, and spring rainfall for many years. When I first moved to Toronto, I thought I'd never leave. It was late night parties, night club bartending, and beautiful babies everywhere. Sunday afternoon Blue Jays games, drinking beers on the Black Bull patio...then you have a few kids, move to the burbs, and the luster starts to fade. When the Maple Leafs fired Pat Quinn things changed. I went back to my first and true love(The Vancouver Canucks) A few years back I went back to Van for a friends wedding and it was affair rekindled. I was quickly reminded of the times when I was young. It was beautiful
2) Going to a program that has had success with it's graduates in Film\TV is exciting. It's been a long time since I've been in school, but I think these previous years can only be an asset when you are writing. After all, you need the stories to be authentic, and I can talk the shit out most people! That's years of bartending put to practical use. It's also the right path for someone to pay me to ramble on (hopefully!)
3) the Canucks are the number one team in the NHL, and I'll be standing on the parade route that I missed last year during the Olympics. The hockey gods are gonna make it up to me
4) change is good

The downside is shorter, but way scarier

1)I'm going to have to leave for May 2nd, T and the kids won't be able to come out until mid-June. That's a lot of time away from my little babies. I'm stressed just thinking about it. I need to man-up, I know that true heroic people go away to a bomb riddled Afghanistan away from there kids! I've got SKYPE and all the Starbucks I can ingest. It'll be fine. Right? RIGHT?!
2) They're coming out for summer vacation, but are coming back in September. Leaving me in BC to finish the program. Mornings with the little man....playing MarioKart with Elizabeth, all put on hold. (I'm starting to sweat) Its for a better opportunity in life...right?
3)T's support. I know it sounds cheesy, but few understand the idiosyncratic, neuritic, fucked-up behavior I display on a day to day basis. We always support each other, and without that person within reach, I'm afraid my craziness might reach extended beard, Mohawk, sparkly nail polish level.

Overall I'm very excited. I've been keeping this secret for a few weeks, and it's been really hard, but today it's become real. I've put my notice in at a job full of wonderful people. They're a little mad I'm leaving, but encourage my decision. It's always hard when you have to leave people that you truly like. In a transient business like restaurants and bars, it's tough. Good people come and go, but I hope that my memories will always be there. It' been 13 years that I've lived in Ontario, and some of the most important parts of my life began and flourished here. Originally, I left because I was unable to handle the death of my mother and the reaction around me. Yesterday, on what would've been her 60th birthday, I put my house up for sale to fund school and my move. I hope that I'm making her proud.

I know that I wrote before a mock thank you to everyone that ever supported my writing, suggesting that I would become a Hollywood prick, and forget everyone. It's simply not true. I was blessed with a wonderful memory, and one that recalls specific situations of flattery. If my life takes a course in which I am bestowed an honor in any way, I hope to honor all you that have supported me, with a  personal thank you.

Over the next few weeks I'm going to be very busy, and may not have the time to make post, but they will continue. Especially once I get back West. I'm also disabling my Facebook security in order to curb any misinformation about the coming changes, but you can still leave me messages, or comments on the blog.(I already heard that T and I were getting a divorce)

Some mornings just feel different than others. Today, it was weird to awake to hear the news of a massive earthquake off Japan. It puts things in perspective quickly. You start to think about the force of mother nature. It's raw power and how we go through our lives without thinking about whether it will affect us or not. It's devastating to watch. People not knowing about the gigantic tsunami heading their way, strolling down the street. The image of huge fishing vessels over turned in a parking lot. It freaks me out. I start to think about my kids, my reaction. The belief that I'm some sort of super hero may only be a fantasy. How disappointing.
 My first thoughts were of people that I know with ties to the devastated region. A friend teaching in Taiwan, another who just moved from Tokyo, but has plenty of friends still abroad. Earthquakes are confusing. When you're in one you don't really understand what's happening. If it's long enough, you eventually figure it out, but smaller ones you just assume that you're hungover. It's like that feeling of falling in a dream, but you actually think your falling and your body reacts as such.(shit I shouldn't have watched Inception last night) I've been through smaller quakes, but none that stick out. The last was when I was in L.A. working on a production and there was one overnight. I had a long day on set, grabbed a sixer of rolling rock and 3 pack of Camels and retired to my room. I watched a high speed chase(that ended up going right past the hotel) and passed out. In the morning the crew was all excited that I was there for a 4-pointer, but I didn't recall. I thought I had knocked the shit off the night stand in my sleep. What a let down.
 The first one was in Hawaii about 27 years ago. It was a vacation that was scheduled for the entire month of December. There was short period of time that my Mom and step-dad got along, and we rented a villa in Maui. It was the greatest part of my childhood. I was about 12yrs old and could come and go as pleased. In the olden days nobody worried about their kids running off. We knew when lunch and dinner was, but it was optional. I spent everyday in ocean. Bogey-boarding, surfing, and roaming through the wooded areas around the beach. I went days without wearing a shirt, or showering with soap. I had turned such a shade of dark brown that my family could barely recognize me, and all the locals accepted me. It was one of the only times I could tell people that I was half black and they didn't question it.
 I loved Maui. I wanted to live there and surf the rest of my life. I still do, but I'm pretty fat to be surfing. The lifestyle was easy to fall in love with, after all I wasn't in school. No one ever supervised me. I remember one time the elevator got stuck between floors and me and some other kids just pryed open the doors and went on our way. There were these bullfrogs that were the size of small puppies. If one jumped and hit you, you'd fall down. We captured about eight of them and put them in this third kids bathroom, and waited until his Mom screamed. Then we ran to the beach and dazed at the stars. The final week, we stayed in Waikiki. It wasn't the same. It was touristy, and packed. The beaches were over crowded, and the waves weren't very big. Nobody knew what a Hawaiian pizza was, and the hot dog vendors specialize in Canadian Wieners, weird. I think that there was life lesson somewhere wrapped in that trip about seeing the true Hawaii compared to the one they dress up for you. Since then, I've been to all-inclusive resorts, and although nice, they lack the pizazz of the natural country. Outside of the 5 star Dominican resort is a country devastated with poverty, and corruption. On the other side of the island is Haiti still trying to recover from it's own crushing earthquake. We fly to these places and see the paradise that has been gathered, primped and preened, but underneath can be some serious scars.
  We tend to think that Japan will be okay. We know that they have emergency response for such occasions, and that they are prepared for the idea of a massive earthquake, but reality isn't always as reasonable as the projections. They have the worlds 3rd largest economy, and have suffered devastating circumstances in the past, but it doesn't mean they won't need our support. The friends and family that live here, that have friends and family there. It's not about politics, or who gave more, it's about people. I know it eases some people's vacation to bring clothes or extra money to all-inclusive resorts, so that they can help the staff while getting a drunk, and massages. Somewhere on a beach was a twelve year old boy that was playing in the ocean, and catching frogs.I want him to be okay, so I can read is ramblings one day. I'm sure there will be fundraisers, blood banks, and charitable donations available to aid those less fortunate than us today. There is always something we can give to help, even if all we can afford is time.

loved and lost

  I admit that I have a lot of stories, and that I use them in order to compare, ease, amuse or comfort people. I've never been one of those one uppers that wait for you to say something then tells a story that betters them over you. In fact I don't like those people. They usually think that they have a lot of stories, and that you are some how interested, but you're probably not. I've also encountered these types under tragic situations and they still try to out do you. It's kind a crazy. Sometimes they even create a hypothetical that includes themselves, "Wow, I can't believe how well you're handling your Mom dying...I would be crushed." Thankfully for that guy, his Mom was at his house doing his laundry, and mine was in a decorative box in the back seat.

 The other night I found myself talking about a friend of mine that passed away years ago. It made me think long and hard about these days that we deem as milestones, because it happened on my birthday. A friend said to me how hard it would be considering that I would remember his passing on a day I'm supposed to be celebrating. At first I agreed. Then a few scotches in, I thought about the fact that my birthday isn't really my milestones as much as it is my parents. They're the ones that should honor the day more than I, after all I had nothing to with the particulars of the day. Truth be told I've probably ruined the beauty of the day by getting drunk, puking and forgetting many of it's events. I'm not responsible enough to respect my own birthday. But what I do remember, and what I do honor is Greg Moore. Greg was special not only to me, but to a entire community. He died during the final race of the 1999 of the CART racing season. We all felt like he was our boy, and that he'd escaped the grips of a small town. And then it was over. After all that has happened, I'm honored to share the remembrance of a fine individual on the day I showed up. A year hasn't passed that I haven't raised a glass to him, and that will continue for the rest of my life. It is literally the least I can do.

It's hard for us to think of death as a celebration of life. I'm sure it's how we deal with something that we can't make sense of. I fear leaving my kids without a father. The thought can bring me to cold sweats, so I have to take the kind of precautions that give me the best chance of seeing parts of my kids life that my Mother missed of mine. No heroin...starting tomorrow. (It always starts tomorrow!) I remember telling T about Greg  and her comment, like many others, surrounded how terrible it was that something so meaningful happened on My Day. Then the unthinkable happened. Our friend Lenny died. T and I had just returned from her birthday dinner when the phone rang. We let it go the first few times, but eventually got the bad news. Lenny was this amazing man. He truly affected everyone he met. Our circle of friends had felt inpenetrable for years, and our strongest member fell. We all spent long periods of time looking at the mirror. In a twisted way Lenworth aided turning all of us into adults. And for the birthday's that have followed for T, she has gladly shared with his honor.

So why am I rambling on about such things. A friend has suffered a loss on her birthday, and I don't know how to explain my sympathies except for sharing. I can only hope that during this dark period, she knows that she is surrounded by loving friends and family. That through loss we learn about ourselves, we reflect from our hearts, and we're able to be vulnerable. But it's how we get through is what defines us. When we celebrate our lives, our birthday's and our losses with the same introspection, I believe it creates true milestones. When my sister's boyfriend lost his brother to an accident, I learned that listening is better than talking. When my singing teacher lost a battle with cancer, I learned that everyone deals with death differently. After my Mother passed away I felt like I didn't learn anything, mostly because I was pissed off, but when my best friend's Father suddenly died, I knew that my experience would help. All I could offer were the choices that I made in my darkest moments, and hoped that he would do better.

I have no idea how she and her husband will handle such a situation. She's strong, smart and very astute to her emotions, and he's supportive, and loving. They are also deeply loved by their friends and family, and that support is where it will start. I do hope that they get to the point where I am with my birthday. Where I not only look at life that lead, but also honor the ones that have passed. There is no better day, and maybe no better way to truly mark the day of your own birth, then by a tribute to those aren't there to share it.

between rut and wrong

I always find it funny when I can recognize something wrong with my own life. You know, you get those moments and say to yourself, "well this is going to suck". Early in the year I was walking the kids to school and noticed the tree with the broken branch had grown. The shredded remnants of wood were almost gone and a new branch was emerging from the fracture. I was quickly reminded of the Inconvenient Truth I spewed to a handful of grade one's about saving the environment. How braking a branch was akin to braking the tree's arm. Blah, blah, blah, they're 6 and don't give a shit. Meanwhile, I'm going over in my head the kind of suburban douche bag I'm becoming, trying to investigate the foliage crime. As we got closer to the school, the kids were up ahead, and I was wondering by myself. I said good morning to the crazy bubble Mom driving her kids to school even though they live a solid four minute walk, I waved to Hot Asian , and shared a smile with aggressive power walking lady. It was a typical morning. Although I usual don't see Hot Asian, I'm usually "guy nodding" to her husband, who I like. One of the biggest pet peeves being a guy is when you think a girl is hot, then you meet her boyfriend\husband and you like him. It ruins the fantasy of saving her, and then sleeping with her.

The walk back from the school is my time. It's the few minutes between dropping off one kid and then looking after the other. I talk to myself about life, think about things to write. I ponder why the people of a small, yuppie hamlet have to activate their car alarms when stopped for forty seconds in front of a Catholic Elementary School. It must be the roaming gangs of car thieving hoodlums....It's then when I get all fired up with something I feel like sharing. As I kicked the frozen sidewalk, I realized how much everything was the same. It was the same as before. The people I see every morning, are the people I see every morning. Was it a rut? When you're in a rut, are you even aware that you're in a rut. I can't help but wonder about the people that start to settle with the life they've found themselves in. No enjoyment, no spark, just American Idol and taco Thursday.

It easy for us to see these things in other people and judge them on it, but rarely can we see the reflection and be honest. The restaurant business can bring a great spectrum of personalities, and relationships. We sometimes can view a true cross section of society. The other night a family of five came in and one of their kids was having a meltdown. All parents know what these are, and there is no question they suck, but they happen. You move on. No one else that has kids is judging the situation, and if they don't have kids, fuck 'em. Eventually it will happen to them and they'll feel like shit too. Sometimes, however, the parents become so embarrassed about the meltdown, they start to act out too. They start saying threats, gritting their teeth together while quietly yelling. There's bargaining, bribing, and bartering. Parenting is hard, I find that lying works(while they're young anyway) During the freak out the father of the family says, "I work all day, and have to come home to this"(I shit you not!!) Boo-fucking-Hoo....way to demean your wife as stay at home mom. Way to insult your kids and the idea that you love them unconditionally. I guarantee this asshole wouldn't last two days at home with these little drunken midgets, then he has the balls to compare his children to some shitty, 9 to5 desk job with two smoke breaks, and a one hour lunch. What bothered me the most is the way he alienated his wife\partner. It isn't a coincidence that the word partner and Parent are so similar. It's not about single parents, cause I know first hand the job they have. And it's not about same-sex adoption, because I'm all for spreading all the love that's possible to spread. But ask anybody, having two parents, no matter who they are, is not important....it's easier. You need to be able to look across the table while the kid is drinking tiger blood and know that you have support. Maybe trade off dealing with the mini-Sheen-like spaz, together.

 It all starts with the rut. We all know people that got together and cured all the problems with their relationship by upping the level it was at whenever it reached total boredom. Rather than being honest with one another, or themselves, they continued to perpetuate something that made them miserable. Moving in together, to getting engaged, to getting married, to having kids, to getting a divorce and then asking you why you didn't do anything to stop them. I'm concerned that, by some karmic kick to the balls, being in a rut is the same as being in Love, you don't know you're in one until you're walking home alone. Are you thinking about your future, or what shows to PVR tonight. Grey's Anatomy is on Thursday, right? But it was the morning and I was sober(ish). Was I reading flyers about snow blowers on sale for next winter? Did we start a vacation jar, did I ever say, "that mini-van is a good price"? Mostly, was I happy? As kids get older, you as a parent start to regain little bits about your life back. You give so much when they're young, but learn more about yourself everyday. Before you know it they're in high school and you an wifey have to spend actual time together. If you've masked your rut for fifteen years, you might be in for a bit of surprise when you realize the person that you're with now is someone you don't like. That can't be worth it. I'm always thankful that T and I have a good partnership, and a decent relationship. We at least like each other during those silent moments, which in this household isn't very often. As I've alluded to before though, I worry about the fact that our family is happy and strong, but have we dug a rut? Do we know how deep the hole is yet, if we have? As fun as scratch and win tickets are, they aren't the answer. Neither is lying down. It's Fat Tuesday, so I think that I'll get drunk....but for Lent I'm not giving anything up, instead I'm going to search for a clue. I try and fight the suburbs as if I'm different, as I'm sure all my neighbors think they are too.

Maybe in 40 days I'll be able to have an answer. Or I'll forget about this entire thing be the time I get home from picking the kids up from school. Oh, Rachel Ray is on...

the sides of March

Years ago the first week of March seemed like any other month. It was slightly overcast weather in Vancouver and Casey Butcher and I were playing a pretty serious tournament of Sega NHL. We still chanted "Blades of Steel" whenever the game started, because anyone that knows hockey video games, know where it all started. It was the late 90's and life was alright. It wasn't great but it was alright. I was in great shape, smoked and was in a casual relationship with three different girls. Alright.

 That night something happened. The phone rang. Back in the day nobody had call display, so you answered the call no matter what. It didn't have the luxury of today where you can see that it's a collection agency and you just don't answer.(no Mr.Johnson, I don't have any good faith money to put on my VISA) When I picked up the phone it was my sister. She'd moved back to Vancouver from....well somewhere because she was worried about my mother's health. Sure enough this was the call we'd all been waiting for. A suitable donor had been found for the double lung transplant my mother had been waiting for. A sense of panic, relief, and caution filled my voice. Casey and I threw down the half empty beers and headed off the to hospital.

Now, we'd gotten a few calls before about donors, but all had failed to make it past a preliminary test. It as going to be difficult regardless of the usual complications. My mother, Gerry, was 5'7" and under 100 lbs. The frail, petite body type was going to make matches hard. Not to mention that her illness was going to make the surgery extremely risky. Her body was weak. A1AD deteriorates the lungs and liver, and as the years passed, the option of transplant was becoming increasingly more dangerous. Of course, she had no faith in the process working out. In fact when I got to the hospital she was positive that we'd be leaving within the hour after being told it was false alarm. She was almost embarrassed that I made it there. She didn't want me to travel downtown if nothing was going to happen. We mulled around the halls and made predictions about the outcome. We joked around the way a normal family might around the mall.

About an hour into waiting a good looking older man entered out little room and started going over the process and procedures. The longer he talked the more nervous I became, sure enough this was happening. Gerry took a little bit longer than the rest of us to clue in, because she was skeptical about her health improving. She may have even said, "do you really need to tell me all this if you're just going to send me home?" When more nurses entered our room, clicked. Then came her turn to panic. She stared intently at me and my sister P, and cracked the slightest smile. We took off her nail polish, and her make up, she got prepped and we all went to the surgery floor. Gerry infamously broke us all into laughter when she asked the surgeon for a pair of big boobs as well as lungs. She figured that it would be a nice touch, then at least she could point them out when she told people she had a lung transplant.

It's hard to imagine that for someone to live another has to die. I didn't even put the two together until we were leaving the ICU prep area and there was a room on the left where doctors were telling a family that their loved one didn't make it. It dawned on me later, when I was in that same room, that their loved one gave my mother those few extra months. In prep there were other transplant recipients waiting. One lady was getting a liver, the other kidneys. One life was going to give another shot to all three. I almost wish that we'd gotten to know them, and even he transplantee's family. We were bound together forever whether we knew it or not.

After the most flattering, and favourable conversation my mother and I ever had they wheeled her away to surgery. Paula, Casey and I decided that alcohol would calm our nerves. We drank a few beers then slept on the floor of the ICU waiting room. Confident and sore, we awoke to find out the details of the surgery. It took just over 6 hours and after all our family had been through we were sure that this was the break we deserved. Unfortunately being a wonderful mother, a caring human, and loving friend, sister and daughter,  isn' the criteria for success in this world. That's hope, and hope doesn't count towards anything.  The complications came as huge surprise. I never even thought about things not working out, if we'd ever made it this far.It seemed as if all the hurdles til this point were enough. I felt that if she endured this much pain and suffering that we'd come to the easy part. Only I was wrong. Double lung transplants are one of the most complicated surgeries to begin with, but I still believed her strength to this point was much more impressive. I believed that the love we all had for her, and the idea that she earned the opportunity to live a normal life would out weigh the medical odds, fact and possibilities. It was the 5th of March and I was about to embark on two months of extreme ups and downs, surrounded by drunken benders, tattoos, piercings, hair-dos and the closest to rock bottom I'd ever been. Sometimes I'm not sure whether I've ever climbed out fully, or if I keep one foot in that hole as an excuse for my fucked up behavior.  Spring is the season of new life, of beginnings. This is mine, and it came at the expense of losing the most important person in my life.

And the Oscar goes to...

Another year of award shows and another glaring mistake by the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences. I refer to finding a suitable host, not leaving out Canadian born Corey Haim from the memoriam segment. I've been a regular viewer since I was kid and it's hard to think of another great host other than Billy Crystal. Mr Saturday Night would start the show with a bang. There would be well thought out skits, slight jabs at the rich and famous and singing and dancing. The Grammys have been going south for years, but at least now they have show filled with performances rather than 35 awards for best new artist in the category of pop\country, spoken word(dialect) and\or salsa. These host have about 30 seconds before we've all decide it's not working out. I know that it was a school night, and when you're enrolled and NYU and Yale you have pretty heavy work load, but James Franco seemed a little disinterested in being there. Anne Hathaway just seemed like Anne Hathaway, gorgeous, but...

 You'd think that they'd hire somebody who is used to being in front of live audiences and was spontaneously funny. Comedians do well as host, but the Hollywood elite don't like being insulted the same day they're being crowned the best at something. My suggestion(if anyone is asking) is the cast of Saturday Night Live, with Tina Fey as the head writer. She is easily one of the funniest people in Television, her reign on 30 rock is proof of that. The cast of SNL do this kind of crap for a living, so nerves wouldn't be problem. Most of them have met and worked with the Hollywood people on the show so it wouldn't be too weird. When they  make fun of people on SNL, they do it tastefully, and respectfully. The best part of the intro on Sunday, was Morgan Freeman and Alec Baldwin.  

To the winners...

Admittedly I didn't watch the entire show because getting drunk and going to the casino seemed like more fun, and certainly more unpredictable. The whole Colin Firth-The Kings speech was such an inevitability it was hard to be optimistic about the Social Network winning best picture. I haven't seen The King's Speech so I was against it winning(it's all about me). I was pulling for the girl from True Grit to usurp the award from Melissa Leo, because I haven't finished watching the fighter and her speech at the SAG awards was confusing. At least she said "Fucking" on live internationally broadcast television. I think that it's strange that they let her continue for as long as she did. Sure she was nervous and a little weird, but it was starting to become embarrassing to watch. Is there anyone that in her immediate family that she didn't thank personally. And I'm a huge fan of the word Fuck in all conjugations so it doesn't bother me, but the rest kinda did. Her speech bordered on 3 min, and they started the music on Aaron Sorkin after about 40seconds. And he's good with words, he's a writer.  The guy who wrote the King's Speech had a very good speech as well. It's funny that Melissa Leo mentioned that the Academy is to be thanked because the "Respect the work" but she disrespected the award and it's showcase. The 50 yr old might want to re-watch the tape and see the way that Natalie Portman conducted herself. It was easily the most endearing speech. It was poignant, and specific. When it comes to respect, you have give a nod to a girl that thanks her hair and make-up ladies, as well as the camera operator. That's RESPECT. I think Melissa Leo was referring to herself, and other actors, but it's important to remember that a lot goes into making a movie. It's curious that the actors sometimes have trouble speaking, but the gentleman that won for visual effects was calm and collected, and didn't leave out anyone from the speech.

I'm sure that ABC was pleased with the F-bomb, these are the kind of things that increase viewership. From what I understand, the land of the free didn't even get to hear the actual word, unlike our socialized country. Whenever I watch the Oscars, I can't help but think about that question that everyone gets asked their first time around, "What were you doing last year?" I was in a Hotel in Niagara Falls drinking sparkling wine from a hot tub. Next year I plan to be grumbling one more time, but then the year after....2013 I plan on being there. I hope I'm not working as waiter, but I'll be there! And I'll be at my respectfully clapping self. I don't plan on winning, I plan on being there.

The awards go to...
 Best Presenter - Kirk Douglas
                          Mr Douglas is Hollywood royalty and he's not letting a little stroke get in the way of his wonderful sense of humour. When he threw the envelope on the ground, then read the card, then told another story was fantastic. Not to mention that he brought up the fact that he didn't win three times. He's 94 and had more energy than anybody. He should've hosted.

Best Dressed - I don't know...Scarlett Johanson?

Best Speech - Christian Bale. The sweep from Chitty-Chitty-Bang-Bang is unusually humble for someone with such a bad reputation. When he made eye contact with his wife and started to cry,he  really revealed the true Bale. A sensitive and committed actor.

Best preshow host - Tim Gunn. He's the best.

Worst Joke (presenter)- Mila Kunis and Justin Timberlake are both pretty funny people, but a Banksy joke? Really? It was award for animation and she's Meg from Family Guy....come on!!

Worst Joke(host) - Franco dressed as Marilyn Monroe

Best Picture - 

another day another dollhair...

There are not many people I know that have the luxury to be able to do what they love for a living. A large portion of us choose a career based off the many pressures that exist. Our parents, age, and social conscious play a huge part in what it that we "do". Then there's the added aspect of children, and sometimes even family members that we need to support. There are those that follow in their family footsteps with little or no thought. Some succeed, others crash the business into the dirt. I always hoped that I'd be different. I pretended that the world that conforms was a world I'd never be a part of. I stayed away from anything near a real job, avoided saving money, all for the fun of living life. Sure it was lonely at times, and there were days where I was sure that I was a total degenerate, but it was the life.

What was I to do? I'd gone to Los Angeles for a temporary job, and decide to move there. I had a place to live, a job and enough people that were going to aid my illegal stay. It was going to be the new life. The dream of living in Hollywood was coming true, but I was going to be working in a part of the film business that I didn't want to. It would've been worth though, to live by the beach. Sunny smog filled Christmas days, high speed chases, gangs. I was ready for all of it, even though it was not what I wanted, but where I wanted. I didn't go because the pill is only 99% sure. The 1% is beautiful 6yr old named Elizabeth. I wouldn't change that for all the LA Laker games in the world. Something else happened when she was born, I decided to go back to the business in which I'd spent so many years, restaurants. It was means to a paycheck. I never wanted to go back, but I was good at it, unfortunately. We are all good at something, I just hoped it wouldn't be restaurant management!

 The years that followed were interesting. I worked in different restaurant and bars, but continued to write at much higher rate then ever before. I thought it was because I had grown up. I had spent a few more years on this earth and was now able to use that experience to further my writing. I'd seen a child born, I'd tackled suburbia, and even put a serious effort into a personal relationship. Of course, I've come to realize that I wrote more because I wasn't drunk every second night anymore. Those days it was difficult to pen a few pages when you're smoking a pack of Lights, and drinking a bottle of Talisker. The ideas were probably better, but the writing sucked. I had much more detail in the scenes of intoxicated girls at an after hours bar, but spelling mistakes and context was pedestrian. I'm not Hank Moody, yet.

I try to believe that the more the years go by the better story teller I can be. My friend that I went to high school with lives his dream, and to see it up close is amazing. He doesn't want money, or fame, he just wants to go to work. He comes from an affluent family and easily could have taken the easy route of following in the footsteps of his father, but he took the chance. He wanted to make himself into what he wanted be. There's risk and reward. The sacrifice is sometimes large, and can even seem unfair, but wouldn't it be worth it to want to go to work? Maybe you want personal success, maybe all you need is to know you're making the world a better place, maybe you like arguing so much that working at a collection agency gets you off. Of course, people have to clean bathrooms, and serve food, but I hope for better from everyone. I know that we all have to decide what it that we want, happiness at work, or happiness at home. But it's not an either or, it can be both. I can say that I'm not a fan of my job, but I love the people that I work with. I try to make the best of each day, no matter how shitty it can be. I want to come home to my kids, without stressing out about the work that I do. My wife loves what she does, but the where can be very challenging. The added kink is that she owns the where. At the end of the day I can separate myself from the people, the complaints, the pressures, the audit and everything else associated with it, and tell myself it's a paycheck.

The conundrum is that if you want more money in this world, you have to work harder. If it's not something that melts your cheese than you have fake it better. It's a dance that we have to do in order get that bigger TV, or second car. The only alternative is to give up everything in order to chase the dream, but how do you start that family meeting? Does everone like the car? Cause we live there now! Life starts to move pretty fast the older that you get. School trips turn into camping with friends, Hot Wheels cars become real cars. You gotta save for university, and retirement. Before you know it you're trying to self -publish some crappy novel you wrote when you were 22, but you don't remember why you thought it was good. Your friends nod pleasingly, while they all secretly wish that you did this 20 years ago. Your big accomplishment becomes finishing a publication rather than editing one, and every time a new TV series launches you're telling the plumber next to you at the bar that you had an idea just like that when you were 35. But your kids have iphones and your wife has implants. I wonder which one takes bigger toll on you...you not following your dream, or not allowing your kids to follow theirs. Either way, it's going to cost you.

  As we head into the final week before the Oscars, I'm always reminded of my true passion. Artistically, I'm probably a better writer than I am an actor, but it started with being on stage. As I learned of TV and Film I knew what I wanted to do the rest of my life. It was never about money, or fame, those were side effects of success. It's too bad that so many with the opportunity end up ruining their lives. Being an actor is difficult. You want people to like you, who you are, and when that public persona gets tarnished, the audience takes it out on the box office. Sure we like to think, "we'll they have millions, they'll get over it", but imagine the difficulty of having every piece of dirty laundry aired. My parent's divorce was a disaster, but at least it was not on the cover of a magazine. My friends broke up because he fell in love with a girl at his work, but they never got the Brangelina vs Aniston treatment. I remember when I met Vince Vaughn a few years ago a girl said to me, "I love him. And I'm glad that he's with Jen(Aniston). I'm on her side, not Brads." I replied, "You know that he was in Mr and Mrs Smith with Brad and Angelina." I don't think he's taking sides like all the readers of Star Magazine.  Every time you're drunk, puking, passing out, picking your nose, getting gas, and taking your kid to school in sweat pants some asshole with  diggy-cam is in your face. That being said they could move. Or not get wasted a bar where 50 people with flashes aren't standing at the door. As an aspiring writer I want you to like my brain, my ideas, my words. I could be a fat, bald, bearded alcoholic weirdo, but you might think I'm a genius. (only the beard to go!!) what has to be worse is the "journalist\handy cam TMZ reporters" and their brilliantly thought out questions. On a reputable Toronto news station, the lead reporter was asked what is one question she would ask any of the Oscar Nominees, she replied, "I would like to ask Natalie Portman if she knows what sex her baby is?" Would a sports reporter ask a Stanley Cup winner what kind of vegetable would he plant in his organic garden? Probably not

When I was 17 I got to be an extra in an audience scene in the movie We're No Angels with Robert DeNiro and Sean Penn. It was the first time that I'd seen the way in which movies were made. The scale of them, the accuracy. There were PA's pulling leaves off trees to make it look more like winter. All these people, all over the set who's particular job made this tiny stretch of road look like the 1920's. A cathedral, a town ,a bridge, and huge center gazebo. I guess that I looked enough like a homeless child, because they asked me to stay on after the crowd scenes. Before I knew I'd missed weeks of school, and was spending every day watching two greats work their practice on a terrible script. Not to mention that Demi Moore was in it, and I was 17!! Every night closed my eyes and dreamed of that Kutcher-Fucker. I think what struck me the most was when the camera was off. The way in which these bigger than life stars were quiet, soft-spoken gentlemen. Penn was in the midst of being a Hollywood bad boy, and DeNiro was...well DeNiro. I asked them about movies, and how they rehearsed. I wanted to know the angles and the process. I'd watch them repeat the same lines, the same way over and over again to perfection. And unlike every other of the masses, I never fawned over them.

I dreamt of being in their position one day. One day deciding how an imagination can be brought to life. I knew then and there that if I was going to do anything with my life(and I'm still undecided) something about the recreation of words into pictures was going to make me happy. The idea that I write things now that bring any emotion to people, no matter how simplistic, excites me. What's great is that I'm just warming up. I'm just getting into the flow of being able to write everyday. Those of you that read this are fueling my drive, and guiding my ideas and influences the way an audience should. (and I thank you) This process is the step that I need to take in order to keep that person that works full-time with two kids, separate from the brewing volcano of stories that spew from my head.

Of course I hope to entertain. I hope that I can enlighten or inspire. That each reader, whether they like it or not sees effort and desire. That each of you help me grow as writer, and as person. And one day when I'm up on that stage amongst my heroes, and Jason Reitman hands me a golden statue, know that it was you that helped me get there. I'll stumble through a speech remembering all the times that I dreamt of making it there. I'll thank a shit load of people that only other people in the room have heard of. An agent, a lawyer maybe, and all the people that believed in my ability to never shut up. Then the wife, kids, maybe a mistress. The things I'll have to leave out will be much longer. Empty rooms, time alone, long bus rides. All the times that I've stared into the shit pile that life delivers with wonderment. Every time I've seen the world fall apart in front of my eyes. My mother above, Paula, all my brothers and sisters, my Bio-parents, the surrogate family's I've joined, scotch, Dunhill's and fine cigars, BMX bikes, crocs with socks, the moon shining through the window at the top of the stairs, BC ferries, a Car accident or two, and a few dozen hearts. So Since I'll forget to thank you then, let me take the time now. Thank you. Your time is precious and you spent three minutes reading some angry rant about nothing, and I appreciate it. I've tried to be vulnerable and human in my stories, and you've responded by sharing similar information. You've let me know that you like my brain, my words and my ideas, and that keeps me working harder. So years from now when you get out of some piece of shit movies I wrote and wonder what happened, or when I pull it together enough to get nominated for an award, but refuse to respond to your "poke" on facebook, remember this letter. Maybe print it off? I'll eventually become so big that I'll pretend not to know you at some fancy restaurant where I'm complaining about the service, and you remind me that I used to write about assholes like me! In those times ahead it will be about the money, and the fame, and I'll want as much of it as I can get my hands on. Divorces, coke binges, late-night bisexual encounters...that's the life. And it will all be because of you...

Thank You

Family Dayz

  When I awoke this morning I feared the events of the rest of the day. You see it's Family Day and everyone is taking the day off to entertain their children with skating, cotton candy and a severe intake of soda. Driving downtown to partake in some clown festival, or scouring the things to do on family day in your particular town. It's nice that the government has designated a day for people to have to give the nanny the day off and spend time together. Even though the nanny is probably back at home doing your laundry. Awww, parenting! I've often wondered why people have nannies when their kids are so small. That's the time you want to hang out with them, and more importantly, they wanna hang out with you. It's slowly slipping away, and my oldest is only 6! My problem with days such as these is expectations that people put on the one day's events. It's never going to reach them. There's also the part that effects me...some of us have to work these so called holidays!

  For the most part people are respectful of the workers that have to work during special occasions, but we in the service world don't remember them. We only remember the assholes that bitch and complain, and then say, "well this whole family day is ruined!!"  So even though your idiot kid spilled ice cream down his pants, and your oldest played PS3 the entire time, the speed of your salad getting to your table has ruined the day? Write a letter.

 Perhaps all service industries should take down the personal information of all their customers. Then at the end of the night we can sit around and decide that we are going to write a letter to them about their behaviour at the restaurant...

 Dear Mr and MRS Jones,

  Last night you came into the ______ restaurant and I was your server. My experience serving you was one of the worst I ever had, and I've been working in this business for ten years. First of all, when I arrived at the table and introduced myself you all ignored me. It's bad enough that I have to work here while I'm putting myself through school, I don't need to be humiliated by strangers. When I listed the beers we have on tap you asked for three that we don't have, and followed up your inquiry with the phrase, "are you sure". Having been an employee here for the past two years, I'm certain of what we have and what we don't have. After deciding on your entree, and not helping your kids order, you snapped you finger to remind me that you had ordered a salad first. These salads are not pre-made for you, they are made once we punch the order in on the computer. Also you weren't the only person ordering salad so the three minutes it took shouldn't be a surprise. On that same subject, you continually told me incorrect times you had been waiting. While at the door, for salads, for desserts wasn't as long as you think it was, you're just extremely impatient. I can see why, because your kids were so jacked up on chocolate milk that they were borderline out of control. After your meals had come and I came to check on you, nobody acknowledged me again. There was barely a nod as you shovelled pasta down your throat at a dangerous speed. Only holding up your empty bread basket with a shrug which I assumed meant you were done. You informed me while ordering your wife's 10th diet cola that you actually wanted more, but it didn't matter now that you were done. You swilled back the last of your third pint, while your wife packed every scrap on the table into a take-out container. Although judging by the mess on the floor there was not much. Soon we were arguing about the prices of the beer, you had a lovely story about how cheap they are at the strip bar you frequent. Your wife is very lucky. As I explained the pricing you claimed, "not to give a shit about other people, only what happens to you." You have very lucky children as well. In the end, even though your kids ate for free, I let you drive home when I should've called the police, and you embarrassed everyone at the table but yourself, you didn't tip because we make enough money off the high prices(which I don't set) and the profit of booze(which I don't see). This experience will be with me for quite a while and because of that, I never want to serve you again. The manager and owner feel the same way, so you're not welcome to come back here.

I look forward to your response

My chunky Valentines

Since the Valentines Blog I've been literally dying from an illness I can only assume comes from being in contact with too many people on Valentines night! It was total horror show and when I got home to drink a bottle of scotch to ease my restaurant chapped ass, my entire family had the vomits. Good times! I had all these wicked rants and suggestions for the common folk on their lame excuse for a "love day" surprise. Among them, don't be surprised that others have also come out on this day and, proposing on Feb 14th is lamer than at a Blue Jays game! But I threw up most of the humorous adages along with a pizza and the "everything" bagel I ate early on the 15th. I'm sure they were both bits of wordy genius.

Whilst I lay sideways in a clench of both my jaw and buttocks, I did however get a chance to watch a fair bit of TV. Now there's a bit of irony in my criticism considering that I'd give up this daily exercise in a moment if someone were to pay me to write TV shows, commercials, or even kids shit. But they don't so here we go...

Now I've mentioned before about the JEEP commercial where the dude drives to the top of the mountain then snowboards down(how does he get his JEEP back!!) and I still believe that it's the worst of the worst. I don't know if it has a professional driver, do not attempt disclaimer, or if it needs one, but I don't plan on it. Those disclaimers are a highlight of my viewing. Like when the guy jumps out of the plane with only a shopping cart. Forgive me for repeating myself, and for the record a friend of mine had originally mentioned this, but I like to repeat myself. (and there are new readers ) My real beef is with how the marketing companies look at the dichotomy of Canadian men. Capt Morgan, Rickard's, Molson, and even Proline have all looked at the men between 25-35 and come to the conclusion that we all only have 3 friends. Now here's where it gets a little insulting\revealing, in each of their ads out of the four friends, One is fat, one has a beard, one has a plaid shirt and the other is a visible minority. How fucked up is that. Okay, all guys right now think about your three best friends.....does it fit? I was furious about this until I thought about the last time there was four of us guys having a beer and guess what, I was the minority and the fat guy! damn it.

Now don't get me wrong it's nice to see that there is minorities in commercials that aren't just the tellers at the bank, or trying to buy our used jewelry. I would like to see some interracial couples though, maybe some gay parents. I would like to see some honesty amongst advertisers. I was always a big fan of that Buckley's campaign that said, it tastes terrible and it works. It does both.

Great we have to watch Grey's Anatomy....I'm going to doze back off any second. I'm not sure how I feel about medical dramas. I like the show House because Hugh Laurie is a god, and was in Black Adder. Also for one of the funniest people in the world he really is a miserable prick. It's also produced\created by a Canadian, and there are subtle jabs at the US health care system during the run. These programs like ER, Grey's Anatomy, and to a lesser degree Private Practice are based off a teaching hospital scenario. That's why they get all these cases, but no one ever says, "you don't have the right insurance", or "we can send you to another hospital where the doctors actually care about saving people, not paying down their BMW's" if there was a drama that was actually about the politics of the US health system it wouldn't be very good TV. Although a lot more people would die. I mock the show while T watches it because of that fact. For some reason I can believe that Alien vs Predator is real enough to shush people, but the idea that med students care....
(PS- Shonda Rhimes - I will intern as anything on this show starting today!)

Survivor has had 20 seasons? Who the fuck watches this tripe? They're not actually Stranded on an Island!! unless you count the crew of 70 with catering trucks...

I gotta admit that I do like watching the Bachelor. Not for the drama, or the outcome. And not because I believe it's real in any way, but because the shit these people say to each other is awesome. What's better is they think it's awesome too! Yeah, you're so desperate to meet someone that you believe your only chance is going to be on a nationally televised program where you make-out with 10 different people? You just get drunk and stroll around Spain (basic 2nd date things) The thing is, these people think that they are saying the right things to move the story along, but they are so forced that it's as if an elementary school wrote the script. I've hung out with a lot of dudes, and I've never heard on say that they are ready to find a wife among 25 single, hot sluts!

The sad part about this post is I'll never be able to put into print my hatred for all of those that went out on Valentines day, because I'm no longer angry. I have no energy. And by the time I'm back in the game it'll be the weekend. Sure it's +8 and February, which is like winning 10 bucks on a scratch and win. However, this Monday is Family day. This Monday every jackass and his whinny, screaming sugar filled kids are going to be coming in and freaking out that there is a 7 minute wait for a table. On their way back from an afternoon of fighting, and spending too much on cotton candy they're going to stop by for a quick meal. And for some god forsaken reason we have a promotion where kids eat free on Monday!!!

I predict that my blog come Tues the 22nd will a swear filled raucous that will make you queasy upon reading. And I will have applied to every shit ass job that claims they will pay me to write. I will have entertained the idea of working in a field that doesn't put me in direct contact with people or their children, even if it means a "real job".

 I will also be hungover...