Friday, September 30, 2005

My Fashion Politik

...my high school yearbook quote...



Sometimes when I’m getting dressed for class and marveling at my snappy fashion efforts, I am struck by just how much my sense of style has changed from high school to university.

In high school I was the kid that sported a Chelsea and wore track pants everyday. Usually my thirty layers of giant sweaters were accompanied by one of my many oversized Northern Exposure T-shirts with images of wolves and deer on them. In fact, one time in my senior year, while out for coffee, my girlfriend remarked that when in public with her I wasn’t allowed to wear T-shirts with animal images ever again.

Basically, I was a bull-dyke in high school.

Now I actually style my hair before I leave home in the morning; and by style it I mean never EVER do something as hideous to myself as a Chelsea. I’ve taken out most of my piercing and I try to wear dress slacks a couple of times a week. My shirts have become quite tight and I’ve adopted adventures in layering, mimicked from various Indie bands I’m a fan of. It’s been quite the transformation, I assure you.

All in all I’m quite trendy, albeit that my trendy is still done primarily at second hand shops. Let’s call it fashion for those on a budget. But more than just my clothes have changed, I’ve changed too [crazy, huh?]. I make a conscious effort to eat extremely healthily and I make sure to work out a few times a week in an attempt to sex-ify my body. Although with the sharp increase in drinking in recent years perhaps the exercise is more an attempt to fight off all the added caloric in-take.

In high school I thought that my clothing and style was reflecting my refusal to cave into the societal norms I found oppressive. I didn’t want to buy into a beauty-myth that was limited to the select few who exist at a pinnacle of beauty so few of us regular people have hopes of achieving. I sometimes wonder what would happen if Past-Me were to meet Now-Me? Would he think I had sold-out to the MAAAAN? On a good day I imagine he’d be jealous of how much hotter and thinner I am now.

But on bad days I wonder if I really am compromising something. My politics have shifted alongside my clothing-choices; for the most part I believe in the same things but I like to think I’m a bit more practical now. But maybe practicality and compromising are just pretty words for giving up and in?

Jesus a CHELSEA. What was I thinking?

Wednesday, September 28, 2005

Fags in the Hall

Please tell me y’all watch Kids in the Hall and will therefore get this reference…
There is a skit in which one of the characters marches down the street singing: “These are the Dave’s, I know I know, these are the Dave’s I know!” As he passes various Dave’s in his life.
Having to navigate the ridiculous amount of people on campus I’m forced to play my very own version, in which I sing: “these are the gheyz I know I know, these are the gheyz I know!”
Then I proceed to label various guys I pass as homosexuals. It’s a pretty easy game to win at, as far as I know I’ve never been wrong. Although, I suppose as far as I know I’ve never been right either. But come on. I’m right.

*

Note to the Teaching Assistant who guest-lectured today:

If you do the following, I will assume you are a ghey:
- wear a bright-lime green polo-shirt and then call attention to it by saying “don’t look directly at my shirt or you’ll go blind”.
- proceed to make buffy references for no other reason than you’re gay and like buffy.
- have nice biceps.
- gesture emphatically.
- make all the girls [and faggots] laugh at your silly [but still lame] jokes for no other reason than the fact your eyes sparkle.
- wear a shirt so tight that you’re nipples are visible; because I will be forced to lick my lips and call attention to my tight-shirt in-which my nipples are visible. Dang, bitches still haven’t turned off the AC.
I may have a crush on my Teaching Assistant.
*
PS - I am trying to update our blogroll so those out there whose blogs I visit e-mail me or post so that I might aquire y'allz links and suchlike.

Thursday, September 22, 2005

All the Drugs in this World Won’t Save her from Herself*



Am I the only one who frankly, finds it disgusting the way the media and fashion industry have reacted to Kate Moss’ drug addiction? Instead of attempting to get the girl help, or support her in any way, they are attempting to distance themselves from the problem, when, let’s face it, they are the problem.

It’s not as though H&M, or now possibly Rimmel, is going to go out and find a new spokesmodel that actually promotes healthy body-images to girls. Nope, they’re going to out and find themselves some twiggy 14-year old, apply heavy make up to her so she looks legal and continue selling the same fucked up body-image issues to women that likely cause Kate Moss – and every other model – to abuse drugs in the first place.

Sure Kate was stupid enough to get caught; but if my job consisted of remaining rail thin, wearing clothing and walking in a straight line I might need to be permanently fucked up as well.

Just to show how much illness has been intertwined with beauty, a few years ago when I started losing massive amounts of weight quickly friends and family commented on how good I looked “now” and then quickly followed it up with questions about whether or not I had an eating disorder. As if to further intertwine these two notions that sickness is the only means to achieving beauty.

* subtle Marilyn Manson reference.

Tuesday, September 20, 2005

Office Dance Party

Office Straight Boy, listening to some god-awful death-metal band: “Isn’t this exactly what people on coke sound like?”
Me: “I don’t know what people on coke sound like.”
Him: “This.”
Me: “okay.”
In my head: remind me never to do coke.

Straight men are funny aren’t they? Not to suggest that ghey men or women of all types can’t be weird as well, because they sure can. But I feel like only someone who has grown up being privileged by gender would think that because he sat at the computer with the stereo he gets to pick the music we all listen to. It’s kind of like when my dad is driving on road trips and he thinks he also gets to dictate what we listen to. Luckily my mother, sister and I manage to come together at these moments to assure him he’s just the driver. Then the three of us sing out loud to Jagged Little Pill while he silently sobs.

Whenever anyone else in the office selects music they always ask if the choice is appropriate or if anyone has a better suggestion. Not this guy. This guy likes death-metal and he wants us to know about it.

Finally the ear-bleeding music ended and he begins to change the disk and says: “You like Nirvana right?”
And not that I don’t enjoy Nirvana in its time and place but I had to be all: “Actually can we listen to something not depressing? I have the Cure in my disk-man.”
To which a great cheer of approval erupted from the various women and Co-Worker/Faggot in the office. An Office Dance Party and sing-along ensued to which Office Straight Boy stared at us blankly. The ironic thing being that the Cure are just as depressing, but it’s depression you can groove to and that’s the kind of sad I can get on board with.

About the time the Love cats blasted through the speakers we all pretty much agreed that this was the kind of song that existed in your shoulders, because you couldn’t help but do a little shoulder-shuffle and jazz-hands to it.

Finally, Co-Faggot says: “Robert Smith is the best.”
To which even Office Straight Boy had to agree.
I responded with: “It’s all about the lipstick I think.”
So of course, to reassert that even though he does enjoy some Cure he’s still straight, Office Straight Boy was quick to say: “not for me.”
In my head I was thinking: who said anything about you? We’re talking about ROBERT SMITH and HIS lipstick.
“Well at least he’s given you some options.” Was all I could think to respond with.

God, sometimes guys who are so quick to defend their heterosexuality – especially when it’s not even being questioned – make me want to bat my eye lashes and pantomime a blowjob.

Monday, September 19, 2005

Pecs Not Politics

You have GOT to love an online magazine directed at the homosexual market about the issues important to being a ghey in society that runs a feature on “the hot men of the fall TV season” rather than an article about ghey-content in up coming shows. But then I looked at the hot men anyway and realized I’m part of the problem and not the solution.

Saturday, September 17, 2005

Ashlee WHO?

Do not under any circumstance layout an article about corporate music at the student-run lefty-rag-mag you work at with images of the Simpson sisters. Because you will be instantly bombarded with people first saying: “ohmyGOD, why are you doing that?” Followed by: “I don’t even know who that is?!?!?!?!”
Um, what?
You’re offended by This:



And This:



But you don’t know who that is? Admitting you know about Ashlee Simpson, talking and using her image to poke fun at corporate media is not the same as standing in line at her concert. I’m not saying I wouldn’t, but climb on down off your high horse and realize that the media has fucking permeated ALL AREAS OF OUR SOUL. So you fucking KNOW about Ashlee Simpson.

Wednesday, September 14, 2005

"Higher Education": The caps lock/bolding shows my hatred

[15:34] Flesh: That is so what it is, the "I just woke up... BUT NOT IN MY BED BECAUSE I'M A GIANT SLUT" look.
[15:34] Flesh: And the guys are all "Oh , I'm sooooooooo cool, bathe in my coolness." AH, I hate them.
[15:34] Flesh: HATE THEM
[15:34] Flesh: It's so deep

I have the pleasure of living in a college town. A college town filled with college students.

Oh sorry, what I meant to say is, a college town filled with FLAMING IDIOTS.

I mean, I hate high school kids and I pretty much hate everyone and everything, but I have an extra special hatred for university students. Not all of them, but the grand majority. They're morons. They're all sheep lining up to get a degree in some subject that probably won't get them a job. And when they're not doing that, they're lining up to get on the bus because apparently, NONE OF THEM KNOW HOW TO WALK, and when they're not doing that, they're lining up to get into Trappers. So essentially, they just take up space. Space that could be used for, I don't know, trees or something. Or garbage cans, which based on the look of downtown at 3 am, students apparently don't know how to use.

I have the misfortune of recently moving to a part of the city that is INFESTED with students due to its close proximity to campus. They're EVERYWHERE here. And they all LOOK THE SAME. The girls, dressed in J. Lo style sweats pulled down so their labia is exposed, with their make-up all done and their hair as straight as Burt Reynolds sexuality (what I like to call souless hair). The guys, with their stupid trucker hats and popped collars. We've talked about this before people: Unless you are The Fonz, Danny Zuko or Dracula, you should not have a popped collar.

But then again, I live close to work now, so I'm spared taking the bus everyday, where I would undoubtedly have to deal with the groups of students that walk up to a random bus and say "Does this bus go to the university?" The bus says "Stone Rd. Mall" right on it, where do you think it goes?! And I understand if they're new, they may not know where the Stone Rd. Mall bus goes, but if they just walked across the street they would see at least three or four busses that either say "University/Kortright" or "University Express" on it. USE YOUR EYES PEOPLE.

There's also the university students that live incredibly close to campus but get all pissy when the bus is late or never comes. Sorry, but I believe the bus drivers were all busy driving students who live, say, I don't know, IN THE WEST END and need a bus to get them to campus, so suck it up and walk, you spoiled brats.

I've also decided to avoid any bars for the next few weeks, as to avoid the high volume of students infesting the bars, or as a local DJ refers to them as "The ones who request Journey."

Students: "Can you play Journey?"
DJ: "No."
Students: "Isn't it retro night tonight?"
DJ: "Journey isn't retro."
Students: "Yes it is, it's from the eighties!"
DJ: "Journey isn't from the eighties, unless you were a complete loser in the eighties."

It's true, nobody wants to hear "Any Way You Want It" except for loser students.

But then there's work. As many of us know, I work in a grocery store, that happens to be located very close to campus, and happens to be on one of the bus routes coming out of campus. Thus, we get a lot of students. Students who apparently can't see. The number of times I get some dumbass student asking me where something is in the store, something that is rather easy to find if you just LOOK, is uncountable.

Dumbass student: "Where's the bananas?"
Me: "Produce."

Dumbass student: "Where do I develop film?"
Me: "Customer services, about six feet to your left."

Dumbass student: "Where's the deli?"
Me: "RIGHT BEHIND YOU, JACKASS."

Or those who are looking for the Wine Rack...

Frat Boys: Is there a place that sells liquor here?
Me: Yes, there's a Wine Rack in the store, but it's closed for Labour Day.
Frat Boys: WHAT? Why?
Me: The wine rack isn't open on holidays.
Frat Boys: The LCBO is closed too!
Me: It's a government holiday.
Frat Boys: ...what?

Apparently, it never dawned on these poor morons that LCBO stands for Liquor Control Board of Ontario, something my underaged co-worker is aware of.

Retards.

Oh well, one day, they'll graduate/drop out, only to find they'll never find a job with their environmetrics degree without a PhD. and are slammed by their OSAP debt.

And y'know, living in Guelph, means that at least one in three of these students will become a drug addicted hippie after their first year.

And that brings a smile to my face.

(And to any student who's reading this and saying "So true, but it's totally not me" I would like to say "YES I AM TALKING ABOUT YOU.")

Sunday, September 11, 2005

"They say you can rap-about-anything except for Jesus"


Not that Kanye West will ever know or care what I say about him, but just for the record I love him. I love that he has street-cred. I love the way he dresses. I love that he is making it okay and cool for urban and suburbanites to dress like they have a clue. I love that he loves homosexuals. I love that he loves music enough to try and save it. I love that he wants to make you dance and think. I love that he hates George Bush and is willing to say something, no matter what Elizabeth Haskell of the View, or any other conservatives might say or think. I for one think that more than it being an issue of race it is an issue of economics, but I still agree and support what he said. I love that he uses his platforms to address things he cares about. And Gold digger is my new favorite song ever.
Oh, and I love his bitchin’ sunglasses.

Close-Reading Porn: Part 1

Rock snob and I recently sat down to discuss some of the more pressing issues in today’s world; and first on our docket was the state of the triple-X entertainment industry. In case it had somehow managed to slip past your keen observation skills, I am, in fact, a homosexual. And like many young men who are single and currently “not getting any” I occasionally indulge in a little something we in the know call “porn-oh”. As shocking as news like this might be, I ask that you stay with me.

Rock snob and I noted that in both ghey and straight porn there seems to be heavy emphasis on hairless, orange-tanned, bottle-blondes who are freakishly fit [but we’ll save that debate for another day]. We also couldn’t help but notice a similarity between the storylines in gay porn and in lesbian scenes for straight men. Inevitably two “straight” co-eds somehow manage to wind up naked in a change-room and one thing leads to another and they are engaging in their very first gay sex!

That “thing” that “leads to the other” is somewhat of a mystery to the both of us as it would seem that gay sex would probably only occur between two people if they were in fact, you know, GAY. I mean, I can’t count how many times a female plumber showed up at my door, fixed the pipes under my sink and then offered to fix my pipe. And I almost always refuse for the simple fact that I hanker for the wang and not the tang.

You would not believe how many websites meant for gay men use the angle of young straight guys having sex with other men for cash and cash alone [note: I only know this in the name of research]. It seems kind of odd to me that there should be such a high prioritization of straight men; as if to suggest that the idea of two gay men who might actually be engaging in sex for the enjoyment of it rather than cash is somehow less desirable then someone doing it for money. Why? If someone is in the mood to watch two guys hump on film I sincerely doubt they’d change the channel simply because the people on screen happen to be actual homosexuals rather than pretend ones.

Which brings me to my next point: is there even such a thing as gay-for-pay? It would seem that a man making a living off of having sex with other men – regardless of who he sleeps with in his personal life – is a little left of straight. I suppose I could have sex with a woman if I had to – or wanted to – and it wouldn’t change the fact that I’m primarily attracted to men. But the thing is I sincerely doubt that as a gay man I’d actively seek a career where having sex with a woman is part of the job description.

Of course I’ve heard that gay porn pays more than straight porn because the looks of the man in straight porn are less important [straight men wouldn’t want to sexualize another man even for an instant]. But at the end of the ghey maybe it comes down to how much you want to make money? Forgive me if I think it comes down to greed. Thoughts?

I’m so glad my training in literature has been put to good use this summer.

Thursday, September 08, 2005

Drinking for Two



Last weekend Nicole and I got so crunked we both passed out on her bathroom floor. So of course fucking Lohan busts in with her digital camera and thinks it’s hilarious to snap a picture of us ruining our good couture! Bitch.
I’m so never buying alcohol for her AGAIN; I guess she’ll be waiting ‘til she’s good and legal like the rest of us did! Or, at least, tried to. You didn’t see me taking pictures that night she snorted so much cocaine she left the party with KD Lang because she thought it was Jude Law, now did you? Now THAT’S a good friend.
Frankly I’m not sure what the hell Nicole does to maintain that stick body of hers because let me tell you alcohol is not conducive to a flat stomach. Case in point: see my "abs" after this summer.

Wednesday, September 07, 2005

New Levels of Faggotry

Every once and awhile a dopey heterosexual male will make me giggle. That day was today. Whilst at work a co-worker was telling me about an author who’s work he happened to enjoy. Half way through the conversation he paused to comment that said author “is a homosexual” as if to perk my interest. I guess that answers the question as to whether or not he knew I’m ghey.
Soon too come: a debate between Rock Snob and I on the merits of porn.

Saturday, September 03, 2005

Fan base: Fags and Jews

[00:49] rock snob: we're such bitches
[00:49] Flesh: we're mean but funny, which is redeeming
[00:49] rock snob: true
[00:50] rock snob: it's not like we're gassing Jews
[00:50] Flesh: HAHA
[00:50] Flesh: that should be our slogan
[00:51] rock snob: "Mean but Funny: It's not like we're gassing Jews."
[00:51] rock snob: LET'S DO IT
[00:51] Flesh: NO, people will hate us
[00:52] Flesh: make it "It's not like we're gassing faggots" and I'm all about it
[00:52] Flesh: Burning faggots!!
[00:52] rock snob: that doesn't really have the same historical significance
[00:52] Flesh: fine
[00:52] Flesh: its funnier though
[00:52] Flesh: burnt fags
[00:52] rock snob: how about stoning faggots?
[00:52] Flesh: OKAY!
[00:52] Flesh: Because at least we can be like "YEAH BUT WE ARE FAGGOTS"
[00:52] rock snob: I'm not a faggot, I'm just associated with them
[00:52] Flesh: you can be a faggot on the inside
[00:52] rock snob: I am a faggot on the inside