Who Can Say What We'll Find, What Lies Waiting Down the Line -- In the End of '89...

Break out the white tuxes for the gents and crazy frilly purple dresses for the ladies. Happy New Year, from Abba (oh, and me too):



Are some of the people in the party crowd a bit spooky, or is it just me?

If you’re feeling more Felicidad than Happy New Year, check out the exact same video remade in Spanish here (no it’s not dubbed, they actually retook all of the singing scenes).

Christmas Carousel

This eyesore appeared in our neighbours' front yard a few weeks ago:


They inflate the thing every night with an electric pump, and then put the carousel in motion (yes, it really turns – and plays music).

I want pop it, and then set it on fire.

Turn Citrus Fruit into Eastern Block Marmalade!

While Mr. T’s parents were visiting us in mid-December, I decided that I should learn how to make my favourite toast accompaniment: marmalade. And since Mr. T’s Mom is the family expert on marmelading, I enlisted her help with no resistance on her part (which I think is mostly due to the fact that she’s sick of making and then shipping it across the country).

Our adventures started with this bowl of fruit:

We had to score the fruit, then remove the peels, and *then* remove all of the white stuff from the inside of the peel. Mr. T’s Mom made it look so simple (like in an infomercial) when she explained: “It’s like filleting a fish,” and the proceeded to show me how effortless it was. “Hey, no problem,” I thought. Then, she quickly disappeared and left me to my task. I finished an hour and a half later. Not. So. Easy.

After filleting my citrus babies, the tendons in my right forearm felt as though I had been typing for 24 hours, nonstop. Who says that carpel tunnel syndrome didn’t affect marmalade factory workers in the 20th century. Well, it may have, but factory workers were non-people back then, and therefore it mustn’t have been a problem…

With the hardest part behind me, I quickly chopped up the whiteless rinds and fruit, threw them into a pot with (5 cups!!!) of sugar, some water and a pouch of Certo, and voilà, marmalade:
Doesn’t it look like an advertisement for East block marmalade circa 1978? I suppose the Cyrillic characters help (just a bit).

If you’ve got some extra time on your hands (and some strong tendons), you too can make your very own marmalade by following the official Certo recipe here. I'm told that "No other recipe works as well as the Certo recipe." I think that Mr. T's Mom is working for Kraft.

PS I don’t remember putting butter/margarine in my recipe.

Gwen

For all of you Margaret Cho fans out there, this one's for you! My sista recently brought this clip to my attention. Take a moment to watch the whole thing. Since the inital viewing, I’ve watched the segment several times when I need a good chuckle. If this doesn’t make you laugh, you’ve got to get your funny bone replaced.

Enjoy!

Holiday Party Raffle Kings

As I sit here prematurely listening to “Happy New Year” by Abba, I realize that we have been in full holiday swing for the last two weekends. In an attempt to appease the clamouring masses of devoted bFab readers, I have decided that it will be a double-post Sunday.

Last night was Mr. T’s work holiday party. So, we both got dolled up in our most monochromatic attire. The exception was Mr. T’s red pocket square (which I learned, is not the same thing as a hanky) in his jacket pocket: demonstrating his holiday spirit. I held myself back from putting in one of his back pockets.

All in all, one of the best holiday parties in recent years. It helped that Mr. T wasn’t organizing this year – so I wasn’t constantly being abandoned for people unhappy with the seating arrangements and MC/Raffle duties.

Speaking of raffles, we raked in this year, and strangely, we won all of the booze related gifts:

Gift certificates for the SAQ, Bailey’s, the Port was a gift, but ended up in the picture anyhow. But I would like to draw your attention to the lovely giant champagne glass (circa 1983) filled with Czech chocolate. In case you can’t make it out in the first picture, the next image, with a quarter as a marker to help you appreciate the scale.



The candy wrappers remind me of chocolates that my Baba used to give me when I was a kid. But, then I tasted a few. Not as good as I remember -- or they aren’t the same brand of chocolates. Alas, we smuggled the monstrosity home only to realize neither of us like the candy, and as Mr. T said, “The glass is recyclable, right?” Thank goodness recycling comes tomorrow – I was starting to get the urge to hop into a bubble bath with my man and sip back some Baby Duck (that is of course, after crimping my hair).

Il fait beau dans l’métro!

Un p'tit vidéo pour vous rappelé comment c'est l'fun de prendre le métro (et l'autobus!):

Il me semble que ce n'est pas autant l'fun quand j’essai de transféré à Berri-UQAM en manteaux d'hiver à 8h30 le matin…

Get a Car!

We here at bFab aim to bring you at least one YouTube post per week – mostly because it’s an easy post, but also, because it’s fun to watch videos at work. This week’s video features our favourite dyke used-car salesperson: Ellen!TM My sister has a bit of an obsession and showed this to me a few weeks ago. I nearly peed my pants.

Mirror Mirror

Routinely, I stare at myself in the mirror and think that I could use a little bit of plastic surgery. Mostly an eyelift, but these days I’ve been obsessing about the lines that have formed on my neck. “Gobble gobble, I’m a turkey,” I think to myself as I pull the skin back and forth on my neck. I’m brought back to a time in the mid-nineties (my early 20’s), when Coldesthands used to tell me that it’s always the neck and hands that go first. I had nightmares that night.

Fortunately, Mr. T. frequently adds his two cents, and reminds me of a Web site he discovered a few years back: www.awfulplasticsurgery.com. If that’s not enough to convince you that you’ll likely look like shit after boob jobs, collagen injections, face lifts and nose jobs, I don’t know what is…

Décoration Lynda

Pour ceux et celles entrent vous qui "speak the French", voici un p’tit vidéo avec des conseilles de décor très utile pour vos maisons de banlieue (quoi-que ça pourrait dépanner pour les maisons en ville aussi) ! En plus, il-y a un clip de conseille pour vos arbres de Noël – juste a temps pour les fêtes! Merci bon Dieu!

Même si les conseilles décor de Lynda ne s’aligne pas nécessairement a vos goûts personnels, sa sens de mode et beauté vous inspira sûrement!



Bonne écoute!

My Personal DJ – My Brain Death

Ever feel like you’re so brain-dead that you can’t even manage to pick an artist/album/playlist? Recently, my friend Kitty Bitch offered me a solution: let the supercomputer think for you! Check out Music Genome Project’s baby: Pandora.

Based on a song or artist that you like, Pandora will choose songs that “it” thinks are similar based on "their" criteria. Okay, granted not all of the songs on my Madonna (smirk) station (as they call it) have been hits with me, but, you can give a song a thumbs down: which means that “they” will skip to the next selection and never play that gawdawful song again!

You realize that we’ll all be vegetables in 10 years, don’t you?

I want to be a cucumber! *said in the Ralph Wiggins kinda way*

Another Gay Movie

The Image + Nation film festival is in full swing here in Montreal. There’s a wide range of artsy films, informative documentaries and touching true stories to choose from during the week and a half of screenings. But, Mr. T and I decided to go and see the lowest common denominator: Another Gay Movie.

Essentially, it’s American Pie à la homo, potty humour at its worse, queer stereotypes personified: and I loved it. The show was sold out (all 932 seats), and it’s the only one to sell out since the festival opened on the 16^th. I once thought that gay men had a discernable taste for cinema, but given this recent happening, I’m not convinced… I guess we can be just as trashy (actually, make that *more* trashy) than our breeder counterparts.

For those of you who can stomach the bright colours, check out the trailer:

Bedtime

Our bed finally arrived while I was on the left coast. Before leaving, I had the great fortune of being invited to inspect the bed before it was sent off to be stained and sealed. I say great fortune because the carpenter, and owner of Kastella is a mighty fine fellow.

This is what it looked like in the very dusty shop:


Sigh… I love dust (especially ever since Marjorie told me that it has absolutely no calories!).

In my absence, Mr. T had the pleasure of setting up the new bed and accessories. When I came home, I was greeted with this new sleeping sanctuary:


*Bedtime reading these days is apparently all about butts and working stiffs*

Looking back at Mr. T’s Bed Sketch, I think that Jason (the fine fellow mentioned above) did an impressive job of turning drawing into reality.

Friday Afternoon Buddy Anyone?

Scott Thompson never disssssapointssss in his Buddy sketches. Surprisingly this one is still current-affairs-relevant -- with all the Ted Haggard hoopla and all…



Enjoy!

Back from the Left Coast

I know that it’s been a little while (and thank one of the globetrotters for reminding me that it’s been a little too long). To make up for my negligence, this entry is going to be a bit longer than usual with some photos of my recent trip to San Francisco – where fortunately, I did not have any Rice-A-Roni.

After a long week of work in the suburbs, Coldersthands joined me for a weekend of fun in downtown SF. We stayed the Grand Room of a little B&B in the Castro. It was far from luxurious, but met our needs: cheap and central.

Coldesthands and I before a night on the town. After a disco nap, we went out for some delicious drinks and dinner at Home, followed by more drinks at the Pilsner Inn. We then headed out for a bit of dancing (although we didn’t end up doing) at The Café. We had fun being openly catty (well, in French), and enjoying more beverages while ogling one of the hottest butch/femme couple I’ve ever seen.


The following day we took a picnic up to Golden Gate Park. It was sunny, and 21 degrees Celsius – not quite as cold as Montreal or Pittsburgh at this time of year... Needless to say, we soaked up the sun, and enjoyed the living (and very green) leaves on the trees.


On our walk back from the park, we passed through Haight-Ashbury. We were surprised to find Elmo tickled pink -- in the booze-induced way. I think the pressure of Elmo’s Christmas comeback is taking a toll on the poor fella. Photo credit: Coldesthands

After Coldesthands headed back to near-middle-America, I spent the day touring around North Beach. This is Coit Tower. I climbed the phallic structure right after taking this picture. The view from on top was amazing, but unfortunately none of my pictures do it justice, hence their exclusion.









This is one of the murals at the base of Coit Tower. The murals were painted in the 1930’s by José Moya del Piño. All of the murals depict locals at work at the time – this was my favourite one (I know, I’m predicable: throw in a manhole and and manual labour and watch Andrew take pictures!).









More men at work! Well, at least a statue of men in uniform. This statue commemorates the San Francisco Volunteer Firemen. I mean really, how could I not take a picture of a statue of firemen?












These statues freaked me out a bit. They are at the top of a 40 story building in the business district. They just look like grim reapers to me, and scream: “We are death, and we’re coming to get you.”







This is the main drag in North Beach, near the Lusty Lady and Larry Flint’s bar. I like the fact that you can see the rolling hills of the city, and that some old signs still remain.

Okay, that's it for now. I'll try to post more regularly now that I'm back on the right coast.

Shoepdate

I’m back from Toronto, but with no new Campers in tow (see Shoe Issues). I went to this place on Queen West that sells the biggest selection of Campers I’ve ever seen.

I approached a sales associate because I was having trouble finding my little gems in the sea of shoes in front of me. I described them to her, and her eyes lit up, and she got very excited and so, I too became excited (not in the dirty way though). And the conversation went as follows:

- Shoe Girl - “Yeah yeah yeah, I totally know which ones you’re talking about! They’re twins, right?”
- Andrew - “Yup, they are twins.”
- Shoe Girl - "And they have blue laces, right?"
- Andrew - "Indeed they do."
- Shoe Girl - “Oh, those are soooooo nice!”
- Andrew - “Yeah, I’ve been coveting them for such a long time.”
- Shoe Girl - “Geeze, sorry we don’t carry them.”

Andrew’s thought bubble: ????????? WTF? Why did you string me along like that you heartless bitch? Don’t you know how much I love and long for those shoes?

- Andrew - “Oh, okay thanks.”

*Insert Brokeback Mountain soundtrack here, and a tear on my left cheek*

Okay, so I didn’t get the shoes, but all hope is not lost my friends. I’m going to the Camper store in San Francisco in two weeks. Wish me luck.

The Most Beautiful Weekend of the Year

As usual, Thanksgiving weekend in Montreal was amazing: 21 degrees and sunny, all three days! The colours were beautiful, and the sun was shining in the way that it only does for the October long weekend.

Yesterday, I went out and sat in Parc Lafontaine with a couple of books, a blanket and my iPod. This picture is precisely what I saw when laying on the grass – well, the blanket on top of the grass I guess...

Successful Ad or City Landmark?

I don’t know why, but I find it disheartening to know that the Farine Five Roses sign is no longer lit up at night – and moreover, that it might be dismantled altogether (!!!). What’s more, I’m not alone. Since the new plant owners have turned off the sign and consideration has been given to removing it, a movement (albeit small) has formed to protect the sign as an historic landmark. I even found a blog (who’s name suggests) that it’s devoted to saving the sign (although it really doesn’t seem all that devoted if you ask me…). Check out the blog here.


So what is it exactly about a 20-foot tall ad that makes us feel that kind of attachment? I think that it’s just a ritualistic association. A constant, if you will. When I used to take the bus in the Pointe, I thought that I could feel warmth of the red letters shining on the skyline, and that the blinking neon kept a beat like a metronome. Trite, perhaps, but strangely, I believed it.

I have seen the sign regularly throughout my life, but I’ve also seen the Super Sexe sign on Sainte-Catherine -- perhaps even more often -- and I wouldn’t feel terribly nostalgic about that sign going to the dumpster.

I wonder if I’d feel the same way if the Salada sign near the intersection of Décarie and the 40 were suddenly in jeopardy?

R.I.P. Farine Five Roses, I’ll miss you.

Factoid:
According to this Montreal Gazette article, the sign used to read Farine Ogilvie Flour, and then Farine Five Roses Flour, before it’s current incarnation as Farine Five Roses.

Photo credit: Mr. T.

Coffee Connaisseurs

From my elevator ride this morning:

-KPMG Woman 1- “I’m going to have to go down to Starbucks and get my self a real cup of coffee.”
-KPMG Woman 2- Laughs “Oh, I can’t drink that stuff, I just don’t consider it real coffee.”

(Andrew experiences brief moment of relief)

- KPMG Woman 1 - “Oh really, where do you get your coffee?”
- KPMG Woman 2 – “I go to Tim’s – of course. It’s all about the taste. All about the taste.”

It was like a skit that I couldn’t have written any better. I mean what would you choose: sweat rung out from dirty gym socks and then boiled, or a hot milkshake with a sleeve around the cup? Your choice.

Barf (x 2)

Movie Season

It’s Sunday, it’s raining, and it’s October! October tends to be the beginning of my hibernation, and I start to think about all of the movies that I want to see during what I’m sure is to be a rainy fall, and a snowy winter. Right now, I’m particularly excited about two films: Running with Scissors and Shortbus.

Running with Scissors is being released in theatres on October 11th. For those of you who haven’t heard the buzz, it’s based on a memoir by Augusten Burroughs – a fantastic author. The book concentrates on Augusten’s younger years, when his parents get divorced, and as his mother slips into a deep depression: giving Augusten away to her crazy shrink. The story is unbelievable, shocking and touching, all surrounded by a delicious layer of humour. Watch the trailer here – although I recommend reading the memoir first (because, as usual, I don’t know how a film is going to do the book justice).

Secondly, I’m very excited about John Cameron Mitchell’s second film: Shortbus. The story is in essence an uncensored look at relationships and sex. CBC personality Sook-Yin Lee was nearly canned by the network for having participated in the project. It looks like the film is going to be provocative, innovated, and pushing the limits – what else would we expect from JCM? Watch the trailer here.

But the film fun doesn’t stop there! The image+nation film festival starts in a mere six weeks! More than a full week’s worth of queer films from around the world. I’ll write a separate post about that later…

Confessions of a 30 Year Old Bearded Man

I have started to grow a beard. It’s been nearly two weeks since my last full shave.

Out of curiosity (and Friday-afternoon-work-induced boredom), I decided to check out beard grooming sites, and came across All About Beards. Helpful and often creepy, the site is unequivocally devoted to all things beards!

Left menu options include “growing a beard”, “beard grooming”, “beard galleries”, “beard videos[!!!]” (emphasis mine), and on the “success stories” page, testimonials from many men about the beard growing process. When asked how he likes being a full-bearded man, Michael (17 y.o.) replies:

I love it! It makes me look wiser, older, and much more masculine. I am only 5'7" (170 cm) tall, so without facial hair, I would look like a kid. With the beard, I look like a man! People tell me that I look like twenty-one or older. It's great! I also feel much better about myself. I feel that I am truly a man. It's a means of self expression [sic]...

Needless to say, the testimonials are my favourite part. Really, I should stop being such a bitch. I mean, maybe the site will be helpful when I have a pressing beard related question. But now that I'm bearded, hence wise, I don't think I'll need the creepy site any longer.

Wikipedia: Reliable Resource or Dangerous Collectivism?

A few weeks ago, I was listening to Sunday Edition and heard an interview with Jaron Lanier. The interview centered on his recent essay: DIGITAL MAOISM: The Hazards of the New Online Collectivism. In a nutshell, Lanier discusses the problem with Wikipedia, and what he sees as the beginnings of artificial intelligence. It’s an excellent essay if you have some time to give it a read.

Check it out on The Edge.

Shoe Issues

I have found the perfect pair of shoes. Notice the alternating grey to black on the leather and the blue stitching. Each shoe is a unique masterpiece! The problem is that I can't find them anywhere in Montreal. One store has them, but doesn't have my size. No other store in my fair city carries them, and Camper won't sell them to me online or via their phone center.

I have been obsessing over these puppies for two weeks, and I can't get them out of my head. Do I have isshoes or what? I feel like SJP without her favourite pair of Manolo Blahniks.

I think that I might just have to check out the stores in Toronto when I go in a couple of weeks. Sigh... If anybody sees them in the meantime and wants to surprise me, I'm a size 11 (model 17887-001, you know, just to be sure).

Ode to Gilda

Recently, I was thinking about SNL back in the good 'ol days: you know, when Gilda Radner and Jane Curtain graced our television screens with their presence. Although I wanted to share the Hey You perfume spoof ad with you, but I thought that this one would do. Happy belated Rosh Hashanah!

Citing Sources

Although I’d like to take credit for the clever name of this blog, I have to cite my source. A long time ago, in the far off land of Ottawa there was a closeted twink who spent a lot of time at his friend Lentil’s home. On the back door of the Lentil’s family’s house, her parents had hung a wooden sign that read “Backdoor friends are best.” When our mutual friend Danny Boi (who is incidentally, a girl) and I first saw this sign and read it out loud we both exchanged glances and a giggle. She knew what was on my mind.

Strangely, the sign somehow pushed a button: thus beginning my coming out. One by one, I revealed to all of my bitches that backdoor friends are indeed the best!

I tried to find a replica of the sign by doing a Google image search, but only came up with this.

Lentil and her dear husband are leaving this very day for a trip around the world. For the next year, I crown them “The Globetrotters,” and will follow their every move by reading their travel blog religiously. I wish I were running from everything…

Mr. T's Bed Sketch

Now that Mr. T and I have passed the five-year benchmark, we've decided to upgrade our bed. Believe it or not, we've been cramming ourselves into a double this whole time. Although we're doing it mostly for ourselves, we can't help but think that our feline dependant played some role in motivating us to do so. I'm sure she'll be more than happy to continue claiming a third of the (read: her) new bed (read: throne).



This is the sketch that Mr. T drew as a proposal to the *hot* carpenter that will be making our bed (with his own two hands (!) drool…).

Revelation

When a substantial chunk of your day is spent reading through blogs, finding interesting news article, and then passing them along to friends and bloggers: it's time to start your own blog! So, here goes...