Just came back from the Rainforest Café, the site of Alyssa’s/everyone’s birthday extravaganza. Apparently everyone in my family is born in November. Holy fuck I hate the Rainforest Café. I’m shameless in my love of theme restaurants, theme parks, theme parties, anything where you or your waitress has to dress up in the presence of animatronic monkeys, but the Rainforest Café fucking sucks. Why should I (really my uncle) have to pay $13 for some limp dick chicken sandwich that doesn’t come with fries, and for my thirty-something safari gear clad server to fuck up 9 out of 10 orders (Alex is five and had a children’s pizza on a little plastic plate, the only reason she was capable of matching the two, I’m quite sure.) Seriously its no wonder they are (were?) nearly bankrupt. And don’t give me any shit, Rainforest Café, about how price gauging is necessary to upkeep your plastic jungle. That robotic crocodile and all those Michael’s Craft Super Store vines are a one time purchase, and those matching polyester Steve Irwin bermuda shorts and button ups cannot be that expensive.
I will cease to be so boring soon.
I fucking hate Perez Hilton. If I’m going to kill time reading about people I don’t care about, then I at least want to read something with a little creative flair, you know, a little personality a la Michael K/Todd/Jesus Martinez/anyone who passed grade 9 english. Chronicling the lives of celebrities is not serious business, so it just pisses me off when people like Perez approach it with major ego and zero sense of humor. I want my bloggers to use celebrities as pre-made characters for a semi-fictional novel (I guess I’m an advocate of the Augusten Burroughs school of Journalism?), since its not like anyone can approach detailing their lives with any accuracy to begin with.
However, I check Perez like 90 times a day because for whatever reason, he always reports on shitty Canadian celebrity gossip that NO ONE else on the internet (besides that metrosexual fucktard Zack Taylor) ever covers.
Which is where I just got MY FAVOURITE TIDBIT EVER.
Deryck Whibley + Hanna Beth = ♥
AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Please say there’s someone else out there who spent way too much time on the internet at sixteen that knows Hanna Beth. You know, the slightly more coherent, slightly less dedicated Audrey Kitching.I’m not exactly sure why this is so funny to me besides the fact its like two bizarre worlds colliding. Neither of them should have existed past 2006. They breached the space time continuum. Her illegitimate x. diet coke x. myspace x. sidekick x. gloomy bear fame, and his 2002 number band (+ time bonus from a celebrity marriage) fame have potentially merged.
Man, fuck Nuit Blanche. It failed me twice, so last night I gleefully abstained. Kicked off the night by drinking flat diet coke in my living room and watching the Leafs get fucked up the ass by the Caps. I guess I didn’t fully meet my goal of avoiding shitty video installations etc. because we watched the CN Tower fail to fully sync up with CIUT from our deck. Kind of a sick idea, using those much bemoaned LED lights as a visualizer, and I support any (much needed) advertising that non-engineering shit at U of T gets, but that exhibit did not last all night by any stretch.
After getting bored with the lights and the Leafs loosing we all went to Futures because it would ensure a smooth transition between eating our faces off and getting drunk, since we would only have to move 15 feet to get to Lab for $3 tequila night. Ended up making a detour to this Leafs swag van they had set up outside the Brunny where Geoff stole me a flag. While carrying it into Lab I got shit from the bouncer for having a Leafs flag but an American ID? Because that’s somehow my fault? No idea. Drank a bunch of sangria, listened to them play the Ghostbusters theme song and covers of “My Boyfriend’s Back,” then went home and made peanut butter toast and watched the Leafs loose a second time during the replay.
I stand by my choices. I’d rather listen to shitty music and watch the Leafs loose multiple times than go to Nuit Blanche, as long as there is free shit and decent food involved.
Obama calling Kanye West a jackass is like the real life equivalent of Radiohead calling Scott Tenorman “the most uncool kid they’ve ever met.”