Gringo Starr, the first Spider Behind My Toilet, was found dead of lethal squashing, this day in 2002.
His body was discovered under a mat where he was believed to be hiding out from either light or the broad feet of the pink giant.
The death has been ruled an accident, and no foul play is suspected, even though the pink giant was known to frequently harass Gringo with flash cameras and spatulas.
Gringo was laid to rest in the wash basin of a washing machine, after going through the cleansing, agitate, rinse and spin ceremonial ritual.
You will be missed, Mr. Starr.
Well wishers can send cards or letters to the address on your left.
it’s all so very sad. I’m not a happy pappy anymore.
but there is another, as currently Steve Allen 1&2 are volleying back and forth between residencies behind the toilet.
Gringo Starr, the first Spider Behind My Toilet, was found dead of lethal squashing, this day in 2002.
is the eyebrow cam… have a look at my eyebrows as they completely take over my head
who dressed me today?
Hi, I’m the Green Lantern.
And what’s with the bumblebee sneakers?
(Well, that’s a good question. You see, I bought these funky yellow and black adidas back in, oh, let’s say 98 (maybe even 99) on sale for something like forty bucks. They were comfortable and odd, like me you see. But I quickly found after I got them home that these runners didn’t really… go… with anything…at all. That, plus the fact that I don’t run leads to “hey I wore these maybe four times over the past 3-4 years.” But today, I was feeling pretty wry, so I tossed them on, pleased with their comfort, and unconcerned with my appearance. They’re still really comfortable, although my feet are getting quite hot in them (perhaps it diabetes?), but, well, them and light pants, and a green shirt… haha. I make me laugh.) Fin.
it’s like some ad photo or something
This is Densil’s passport photo but wound up looking like a mock-cellular phone advert or America’s Most Wanted, or the back of a milk carton or something. Very cool.
I was just on epitonic, and I saw the name Jesse Ashlock and I thought it said Jesse Asscock… yup this is going to be one fun sleep deprived day.
do Americans, or even people outside of TVO broadcast range, know about Polka-Dot Door?
wow, four hours sleep.
for those keeping track: better than sunday, worse than monday.
We all know why I’m awake, so let’s start by clueing me in…
Yeah, todays going to be a good day.
I got to miss the Polka-Dot Door this morning. Not those lame Polka-Dot Shorts, but the actual PDD, with Bear, and Merigold, and Humpty and Dumpty… and let’s not forget the Polka-Roo - but, alas, I did miss him again… shucks. I do have the Tele-tubbies to entertain me this early morn, but I don’t think it’s the most stimulating thing to kick start my brain today. A bunch of colourful characters talking incoherently and bumping into things… hey, it’s just like work!
Oooh, Blue’s Clues is on later. I wonder if it’s a Steve episode, or a new one with, ahem, Joe (I wish I could get that comic-book, icicle-cold font to put on “Joe” … the whole Steve to Joe thing was very traumatic)
“Lala, lala, MOO! Hee hee hee.”
actual quote from teletubbies.
favorite yoga position
Not quite like this this though
I misread this yoga page I was on… it said “yoga fit” and I thought it said Yoga Fett.
Flex like the jedi, May the Fourth be with you…
the spider beside my oven
Yup, there’s another one… I’m too tired to think of a name… but you should see all the complex webwork he has going on on either side of the stove.
Breaker 1-9er, are their any smokey’s with their ears on?
10-4 good buddy?
SOmebody name this one for me. First caller through gets… nothing, really.
song of the day
because I couldn’t sleep, the band is Unrest, the song is untitled, or track 16 from the BPM (1991 - 1994) cd. It was either this, or Vibe Out (but I’ll save Vibe Out for another day)
someday soon I’ll get to the Spiderland album by Slint… and perhaps I’ll tell a long, drawn out, overly boring story about why I’m buying a lot of stuff from the early 90’s.
Well, who knows who the hell these guys are running around (okay, staying dormant on their webs in) my bathroom, but I’m just going to call them Steve Allen 1 (who has taken up position beside my sink, for two days now!!) and Steve Allen 2 (who has taken up residence in the baseboard heating).
I welcome them.
I think I saw one of the Gringo’s five setting up shop with a huge web stretching across the neighbours’ doorway. He won’t be stationed there long, I can tell you that much. Good luck to you Gringo, whichever you are…
My original pal, Gringo Starr, well, I don’t know where you are, but, please come home.
Welcome, Steve Allens
where’d the shorts I was wearing last night go?
You too can witness me “hard at work” on the Spider Behind At Work webcam.
*See me* - pick my nose
*Witness* - me scratching my ass
*wonder* - at me slacking off from picking my nose and scratching my ass
Todays webcan funny colour/contrast is “pissed-whitewall”.
Because you have nothing better to do with yourself then watch me have nothing better to do than watch myself having nothing better to do but watch myse…
been a lot of word going round about nipple rings and procrastination in various blogs I frequent and emails I get, and, well, I can say I’m a little jealous of those who both have the gusto and the money to poke their bodies full of holes, and the job to actually procrastinate from (*this right here, this is me working right now*)
So, I’ve resolved to get off my lazy duff (after my legs stop being so tired form walking so long yesterday) and do stuff:
Plan 1: tattoo - here’s my new tattoo design for my back right solarplex area (from my lats to my neck, maybe)… but seeing as I still have to touch up my S shield, I’ll do that first and get a cost on this honking thing (inspired by Clooney’s tat from “From Dusk Til Dawn”)
Plan 2: publishing - to get some experience in the whole “self publishing” game, I’m going to publish a book before Quarter City (which is in edits right now). It will be a 200 - 250 page “She >From He” compilation with illustrations. It will probably be published in a 5′ x 8.5″ comic book size (so I can sell it to comic shops as well)… it’s strictly to test the waters of this DIY game, and to let me know whether this is the way I want to go with my first major novel. I’ll get to that while QC’s off for second edits.
Plan 3: Just a goof. no more on that later.
Plan 4: Become a photowhore (I stole the newly bored (as in had a hole dug into him) Rannie’s photojunkie and blogwhore terms and merged them together)
- here’s me eating a bagel
- here’s me, doing my Sinead O’Connor impression
Am I sexy or what.*
Plan 5: make falafels
So as you can see, I’m making no money but I’m developing an ego, and I’m eating falafels (maybe). Way to go!
*don’t answer that
yeah, I was way tired, so I had a 20 minute nap.
Now I’m awake, still exhausted yet unable to sleep.
I knew this would happen.
song of the day
in my soon-to-be-newly-found-life as a photowhore, I present to you:
Handsome Boy Modelling School: Look At This Face (Oh My God They’re Gorgeous)
Handsome Boy Modelling School was the best sixty dollars I ever spent. If I didn’t go to Handsome Boy Modelling School, I’d still have sixty dollars.
(expect pictures of me to be plastered everywhere, if they aren’t already…)
longtime readers of the Spider will recall saying to themselves “why do I keep reading this shit”… well, you now have your answer.
Yes, it’s the Amazing Mr. Faux-Mo, and his uber Faux-Mo telepathic powers that entice, then entrant, and finally entomb readers to the small nest behind my toilet.
For those confused, let’s define the Amazing Mr. Faux-Mo:
the : a definite article, in this instantce specifying something as singular.
amazing: just a cool sounding adjective, actual amazement depends on the viewer
Mr.: a courtesy title to an adult male
Faux: not real
Mo: short for mohawk
witness the faux-mo:
this other angle
For the history on the Faux-Mo, ask thisguyrighthere
Now people, be rest assured that soon you can be released for the mental telepathy of the Amazing Mr. Faux-Mo (aka Gary, for he is off to NY, perhaps permanently in a sorta transfer/promotion/let’sgetriddahim kinda deal. But, then again, I’m not sure shuffling him off to another country is really going to stop the bastard from telling you what to do…
I joost need to giff my laggs a reest.
Yeah, I was smart and decided to walk home today as well. So today, I walked a total of almost three hours out in the stagnant, humid, fry-your-liver heat.
Yeah, my shirt was disgusting, not once, not twice but three times today. I’m sitting in front of a fan now, topless, having just taken a cold shower then done the dishes. Prune hands gnarl, b-yotch.
Let’s do a little flash back to the last time I walked insane lengths:
T’was 1999. My then-girlfriend and I had just moved to Barrie, Ontario (where city planning is a dirty word). Barrie is a stupid place, built in a valley, but continues to expand up the hillside. A major highway runs through the MIDDLE of town, and all the roads need reconstruction. We managed to find an apartment in the middle of the valley. She had gotten a job almost as far south as you could go and still be in town, I had gotten a job almost as far north as far as you could go… a shitty manager job at a newly constructed Wal-Mart (well, all Wal-Mart jobs are shitty… but I’m not getting started… I’m not getting started… my therapist said those episodes are behind me now).
Before I got my crappy car (have I ever mentioned I hate cars? Well, I hate cars) I would walk or bike to work… it was uphill, both ways. Really.
Okay, it just seemed like it.
Anywho, I walked up to the store one day, worked all day setting up fixtures and stuff, finding new muscles that I never knew I had before were sore, and I walked home.
Not 20 meters from my door, both my calves clamped up on me. I don’t know if you’ve ever had this kind of “charlie horse” before, but fuck, I imagine it’s the funniest thing to watch, as my legs locked into a feet and toes pointed position. Essentiall, when this happens, you can’t walk. I stumbled for about 5 paces when I came upon the huge oak tree next door. Big and sturdy, it held me up as I attempted to stretch my calves out which had to be a very excrutiating procedure (although I don’t quite remember… perhaps I blacked out???).
After five minutes of resting against the tree, doing some very difficult stretches, I pressed on towards the house, my heels still wanting to snap back into my ankles. The closest I can describe the sensation of walking like that would be “Mr. Heavyfoot” from Kids in the Hall. I imagine I looked something like that, only without suit or hat.
Wow, that was a pathetic story. It’s better told with visual demonstration of lame-legs.
I’m about to pass out
I had more to say but…
yes, you see that right, it’s roughly 6am and I’m awake. No, it’s not like last time, I actually did sleep, from around 11:30 to 4:30-ish… Just couldn’t sleep any more than that.
Anyone knows me, they’ll know why I weren’t sleepin’.
Saturday night I had one of those “I missed my exam” style panic dreams, thinking that it was late monday morning and I missed doing that thing at UofT that’s just too annoying to write about.
I hate those “I missed my…” dreams, they always make you wake up with a start, triple check your clock, and then go back to sleep realizing it’s way fucking early, only when you go back to sleep you have another one… and on, etc, until you’ve really gotten no sleep at all and you’re tired and cranky and unable to sleep and you get to your exam or whatever and you can’t think straight and you come out thinking that you’ve done brilliantly but are really just more hungry than anything so you venture on to a food service depot where you eat and attempt to stave off unconsciousness only to realize later on how shitty you did and you might have well just slept through the damn thing anyways (*breathe*).
you ever notice you eat faster in a busy restaurant?
If you like to savour your food or simply don’t like mowing down, find a quiet place to chill or find the off times for your favorite restaurant. Plus, the added bonus of going to a place on their off hours is the service is usually friendlier, and little bonuses come with the meal (like three buckets of hotsauce!!!).
For those wondering, I came across this little tidbit as Mr. Faux-Mo - back from NY - and I went to Dipamo’s slowcooked meat hut on Eglington (where the service is always friendly, btw) where, well, they know us by everything but name (and we’ve only been there, what, four times? That’s kinda cool.) There’s no real point to saying all this, but I’m just pumping the business… go there and tell them the Spider Behind My Toilet sent you (it won’t get you anything but really strange looks, but it’ll make me laugh, so do it, peons!)
Song of the day double hit
Since I didn’t get around to doing it yesterday, here’s two SOTD’s, both by the same band, both from soundtracks, both frikkin cool ass songs:
The Stranglers: Golden Brown (from Snatch)
The Stranglers: Peaches (from Sexy Beast)
Both are unbearably fantastic movies worth watching repeatedly. Both are incredibly catchy song which will stick to your ribs like Wifred Brimley.
I spent a few hours out in Unionville of all places, meeting up with an old friend (and some teacher friends of hers) as they’re passing through on their way to the East coast for a 16 day sojourn.
What struck me, hanging out on Main Street in Unionville is here we have a resort town environment with quaint restaurants and nik-nak gift shops which is essetially a part of Markham (which is essentially a suburb of Toronto).
You don’t leave civilization for a second on your way out there, and yet, when you get there, you feel like your in a Northern Ontario tourist trap like Rossport (where the population’s smaller than the area-code).
Weird thing is I’ve been around places like this all my life (this is the kinda stuff my Grandma, and Mom, and sister are all into… trinket towns) so you’d think I’d be comfortable… but I wasn’t. I was kinda anxious to get back to the city, with it’s noise and people not wandering aimlessly and streetcars and honking and music blasting from every bar and restaurant… Am I addicted to big city living already, or do I just not like these kinds of places because as a child, teenager, or any other time I’ve been in a car travelling with relatives I’ve always been subjected to these incredibly girly places (although what’s fun for me is watching the husbands get dragged into these places… at least I find the crafts and whatnot interesting, those older guys are just on a short leash.)
Invader Zim is the shiznat!! Download a different episode each weekend in DIVX format from Wormbaby.com
that’s my PSA for the eve.
I saw a Delorian yesterday.
I’d never seen one in person yesterday.
It sparked up nutty memories of Marty McFly.
I wanted to go for a ride, but it just sped away.
take a roam around Orbital land and you will find tonnes of O samples from virtually every from albums and remixes up to the release of the continually amazing Altogther.
But first, strap yourself in for an hour and fourteen minutes of O mixing it up, off their label site.
Well worth playing while you cruise the net, fill up your blog, or do the dishes… damn those dishes, damn them all to hell.
Unionville? Where the hell is Unionville
I dunno, but I gots to find it regardless.
I just got in, had a shower, and popped on the tele for some background as I made my way to the pan-fry for a grilled cheese (and I make a mean grilled cheese), but what do I hear in the background? Hey, it’s Ed, The Sock vividly describing a wet t-shirt contest… all I could think about was all the poor world youth day pilgrims piling into their border homes and hotel rooms, flipping on the tele to CityTV and getting an eyeful of blasphemy, and a mind full of what is it? Sin #2? Hee hee. And don’t for get the “Blue Movies” that go on afterwards.. is to laugh. (for those who don’t know “Blue Movies” are essentially softcore porn run on basic broadcast… no cable necessary). I just imagine all these bug-eyed Bill Keane-style Catholic kids staring in awe and confusion… hee hee
-Is that man hurting that woman.
-Yes, Billy, yes he is.
-But she seems to like it.
-No, Billy, she has gas, now turn that off and say forty Hail Marys, then scoot off to bed.
-Jimmy said that’s how baby’s are made.
-Jimmy’s wrong, Billy. God makes babies. That’s the Devil’s work.
-My pants feel funny.
-You just bought yourself another forty Hail Mary’s, Billy.
Here’s a toast to the Boogie
I’ll drink to that, bottoms up.
Did you ever expend so much energy that you’re just ready to throw up.
Yeah… I’m there.
I was out at the Hidden Cameras concert, held in a Church of all things, as a part of the whole Challenge the Church thang (I didn’t know the antis were organized, but I guess they/we are).
One of the best things about going to a concert alone in a big city is you don’t have to worry a damn bit about someone else’s good time, and you can go off and dance your energy away until you feel like throwing up and not worry a lick about what your friends will think of you after (hey, I like to dance, is that so wrong you uptight sompin sompins?)
This was an amazing, amazing concert, with a few new songs (some played at their last 2 gigs which I missed including the helluva cool No Gay Goth Scene, and the equally cool Need An Enema).
The church was jumping, almost immediately. The Hidden Cameras devotees (I being one of them) are beginning to forego the inner awkwardacies of the “first few song slowly getting into it” thing, and we just jump into it right away. It’s like a happy mosh pit, in church no less. Toronto… wow… you dance. Who woulda guessed.
I can’t say for sure if it was a diverse crowd. Ethnically, yes, it definitely was, but sexually, who knows… and who cares. I’ve been having trouble getting friends and coworkers out to their shows, as their either semi-homophobic or just too cool for school, if you know what I mean…(do you? I’m not sure even I do). It’s their loss.
I looked back from the front of the stage at the crowd, forced to stand from the pews to look over the dancers, and I smiled. The timid or the new. Either way, perhaps next time they’ll join in.
It was a blast, and I’m going to do it again, with or without you…
Another story from church
I got to talk to Donnie (I’m pretty sure it was Donnie… I apologize if I’m wrong)… who’s a part of the huge Hidden Cameras ensemble (from 8 to 12 memebers, regularly, tonight they had a 10 piece (at least) “choir”).. I’ve had the chance to talk to all the members of the HC at this point and I’ve realized that they’re all sweethearts. I’m just not sure that Donnie knew I’m not gay… and I’m not sure I didn’t flirt with him just so I could perhaps go hang out with the band afterwords (yes, straight guys can flirt with other guys… sheesh, don’t be so uptight people). But just to be sure I’m not a complete starfucker who would stoop to anything to hang with the people he admires, well, I took off spritely after it was all over.
(plus it was bloody hot to begin with, never mind dancing, and you know how much I just love sweating, huh… I wanted outside!!).
Question is… do I come off as gay? I have gay friends who have told me in definite terms “no”… but is it possible it’s an easy transition? I’ve been told I do a good “flamboyant” impression… (told, hell, I know I do, honey, although I may be out of practice. Learned it all from Buddy Cole.)
as I walked, wet and weary
I walked past all these WYD pilgrims, and a whole whackola of coppers directing traffic, and as a taxi did a really stupid thing in front of me, then sped off before the police could flag him down, I thought about getting hit by that car, and what would happen. Would the hospital know who I was?
Well, I did have my wallet, ID and St. Michaels card, so yeah… but who would they call if I had an accident and was unconscious. I don’t have any phone numbers in my wallet, except those girls whom I met (again) yesterday.
Would the hospital call them?
If so, what would they say?
And wasn’t this the plot of a sappy Sandra Bullock film from many years ago?
Austin Powers: Goldmember
Funny? Yes, it was funny. Michael Meyer’s ability to have great comedic timing with… well… himself is impeccable (he plays four roles in this one). And yet, the movie is hinged around LOTS of body-function jokes (toots, and poopoos, and tinkle) and things of a timlier nature (sudden appearances by “guest stars” and Britney Spears’ and “the Osbornes” and plenty of other things that won’t be funny in a year or two).
It’s a weak movie with incredibly funny performances that balance into mediocrity. The thing you realize is Austin Powers is a hinge, and that the movie’s, ahem, gold in terms of comedy, interest and story all center around Meyer’s other performances. Austin is tired. It’s time to put him to bed. Let’s just have a Dr. Evil movie.
And, hey, that was Susanna Hoffs (of the Bangles) in the band in Austin’s apartment… awright. Go Susanna!!!
Oh, and finally, sharks with frickin lasers strapped to their frickin heads. Finally.
Okay, that about covers it all for one post.
If you know me, and it’s not very likely that you do, but you can if you want but don’t worry if you don’t…
I love Mr. T
And not in the stupid retro pop-culture laughing at him kinda way that other “trendy urban hip” losers do… no I seriously admire the guy. He’s been a hero of mine since I was 8. I had the Clubber Lang AND B.A. Baracus action figures, and they were a prized posession until.. well, the hammer came down, sucka!
I recently read his 1984 auto bio which lends a tremendous amount of insight into the way Mr.T thinks and how (up to that point) he had lived his life.
Mr. T is a cancer survivor, and a huge supporter of childrens causes. He’s a hero to us all, and, yes, he fucking makes me laugh like no tomorrow.
The Faux-Mo Mr.T-ified the spider behind, and aw, man, I hurt from laughing… (clickit!!!)
(my favorite line: “Why Gringo, why?Fool!”)
T makes everything chill, man!
song of the day
in honor of Mr. T, I present to you, by me:
Emote:The Carpet Behind - T1B0
It’s only a minute long, and it kicks ass, foo! So listen to it sucka!
Stay in school, eat all your greens, drink yo milk!
Mr. T is being saught after to appear with 5 other pop-culture icons in the WB’s upcoming show “The Surreal World”. It’s exactly like the Real World, Celebrity Edition. Here’s the newslink
gary the gary says: martini night?
Karate-chop Action Graig says: yup.. tini’s!!!!
gary the gary says: wot kinda social monkey are you?
Karate-chop Action Graig says: I’m no social monkey, I’m an alkemonkey!!!
Karate-chop Action Graig says: alkemonkey alkemonkey!!!!
gary the gary says: drunken monkeys raiding taverns for more booze does make the nooze.
gary the gary says: hmmm.
gary the gary says: catholic.
gary the gary says: alcoholic.
gary the gary says: cathaholic.
Karate-chop Action Graig says: yup there were some of those there too
Oh my, last night was incredible. I never knew I could experience such elation for such an extended period of time, but now I know I can never get tired of it.
At first I was a little scared, I mean, sure one person was great, it always is, but then more wanted to join in, and soon there were hands all over me. It was like there was a feast and I was the buffet.
There were people of all sorts there (not like the licorice all-sorts, but we did to Jagermeister to loosen up), gay, straight, men, women, pierced and whole, tickleish and not, and what did they all want…? A piece of me.
As soon as I let one touch it, they all wanted to. Some couldn’t get enough. I tell you, my heart was pounding so hard at first, I thought I was going to pass out. But I relaxed into it very quickly and soon I was very comfortable with them and their fingers motioning.
It got really intense when I was sure I felt five hands at once. I didn’t know whose they were, dear Forum, and to tell you the truth, I didn’t care. All I knew is it felt good and I didn’t want it to stop.
When you shave your head, dear Forum, people want to rub it. When the hair grows in slightly, its a whole different world of feeling…
The good “hair rub”:
The first thing you have to do is close crop your hair… anything around an inch is probably the perfect length.
You have to remember that just because your hair is awfully short, it doesn’t mean you can stop washing it. Nope daily maintenance is important to retain the softness and yet still keep some firmness and body.
When doing the hair rub, there are good ways and there are not so good ways. If you’re doing it by yourself, you’ll learn very quickly. If you’re doing it to someone else, well, you may need a little guidance to ensure both parties achieved the utmost in mutual satisfaction.
It is important to have a relaxed hand for the hair rub. A firm or worried hand will decrease your pleasure giving, and will likely decrease the pleasure in receiving.
As well, don’t curve the fingers into the scalp. Fingernails cause pate abrasion, and even those trimmed finernails still have a tendency to poke. Trust me, you giving and receiving no pleasure at all.
Your stroking is very important. Be light and gentle. You’re not out to “noogie” someone, your out to share in a mutually gratifying sensation. It’s okay to go in a back and forth or circular motion, but with an easy touch, and a slow pace. A fast pace, the sensations become too much too quickly and it’s over before you have a chance to enjoy it.
The proper technique involves the palm and the tips of the fingers lightly running over the tips of the hair. In the circular or back and forth motion, the pleasure received through the touch-sense-organ will be a slight tingling, light abrasion, like new velvet (only better).
The pleasure received is indescribable yet damn, damn good.
Be wary that the sensation is an addictive one. If you find yourself going to salons, stealing a dummy head and a wig, shaving it down, and rubbing it while at the computer, watching tv, driving your car, negotiating a hostage release, dodging cruise missiles, or orbiting in outer space… well, you have a problem and need to seek professional help… also, call me (I’m so there for you, you freak! Rrrrowr.)
I got feedback
Rannies dirty fingers…
and if anyone want’s to see what all the excitement was about, clickclickclick
Kelly missed out on all the fun