One Trick Ponies

Well, this is flattering.

Well, this is flattering.

That was the name of our band, until we realized someone was doing bad covers better than us under a different name, so it’s been canned. But, fear not listeners (and users of earplugs, strategically placed pillows, and the timely consumption of too much alcohol) because we are back-ish. Renee and I decided together that we should be a band many a Monday ago, during some female vocalist night at Grumpy’s (the name of which eludes me). I, however, decided we should be in a band together after Renee passed out on night on stage at the Pound, after singing far too much Amy Winehouse and drinking far too much vodka cran (far too much for Renee amounting to approximately three “big boy” sips). After prying the microphone from her surprisingly strong grip, lifting her off the floor, and, since I’m so smart, bringing her back to the bar, I knew she was the one… music-wise, that is.

When did Renee know that she wanted to be in a band with me? Well, I’m not her, obviously, but if she were here, I’m sure she would say the first time she saw how stunning I look in person…

Anyways. Our band kind-of, sort-of got off the ground, but it’s not exactly in the air. Band practice (formerly known as) One Trick Ponies style is practice for ponies who have yet to learn any tricks, really. Essentially we just get drunk, chain smoke (I wish I took pictures of my ashtray, seriously), and talk about everything except for music. Renee and I had “band practice” last night after Jesse and Brian left; we realized my guitar was a hopeless case, my tuner is broken, my ear is not as good as it used to be, and there was much to talk about. In our defense, there were two sing-alongs.

Bands are so frustrating. Don’t do it.



There is a YouTube video coming your way, (nickname of preference here… “lovelys!”, “darlings!”, “ya big bull dykes!”, etc). You see I had “band practise” last night. And while Renee and I are going to make for a really sweet band, and I will one day headline for Karen O (or, you know, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, because I realise she doesn’t have a solo project), we’re not very good practisers. We played maybe five songs though, but you see, my apetite came back last night, and I (with some help from Renee) ate a huge veggie burger, sweet potato fries, and a pint of that really good vanilla Tofutti ice cream… I had a lot of calorie catching up to do, lets just say that.

Renee and I are fundamentally different in many respects, and the one that brought us to my bed last night happened to be that I enjoy fresh air at most any temperature that doesn’t put my nipples on high alert. Renee, not so much. So we end up holed up in my bedroom, windows open, listening to It’s Blitz and Elliott Smith (how romantic right? Actually I’m going to use these parentheses to say that I was on Skype with Christine a couple days ago, and we were talking about how I’m pretty much a sap, and how I learned so many Elliott Smith tragic love ballads  last week that I was just, well, lame and not made to fall in love. Anyways, Christine goes on to tell me that Elliott Smith is not romantic because he killed himself. I beg to disagree, every great romantic figure ends up dying tragically, I blame Shakespeare and really catchy songwriting), and we turn on my Photo Booth, because she has on my glasses. After declaring to me that she looks like a huge nerd (thanks, Renee), I open iMovie (’08… what a disaster. Does anyone want to fund my video editing endeavours?) and start filming. Well, I have 40-odd minutes of footage, soon to be cut down to somewhere around five of highlights from my night.  It’s going to be really funny, actually. Maybe I’ll even do it in parts, because there are some real gems. 

I was just going to make this a quick post to instill hope in the masses, but apparently I have lots to talk about… thus that enormous paragraph (I blame the parentheses, and to showcase that, I put my blame in parentheses). There will be more posts and videos later on, for now I’m going to the gym. 

And if you’re in Montreal, tonight there is a sex toy party hosted by Queer Concordia at the QPIRG office. It’s at 7. I should arrive sometime after 8, meaning autographs will commence sometime around 9.


Too good?

Because I turn down hot chicks left and right, of course.

Because I turn down hot chicks left and right, of course.

As I’m sure we all weren’t allowed to forget, Valentine’s day was this weekend. While it’s no secret that I’m not seeing anyone right now, it may be a secret that I love being single so much that it’s probably to the detriment of my dating life. I’m really, really, good at being single. So good, in fact, that my favourite holiday may just start being Valentine’s day because I’m so productive. 

That’s right, I like Valentine’s day because I get quite a bit of work done.

For the past couple weeks, Renee and Jesse have found out that I go on dates without telling them that I’ve been going on dates. Apparently, that’s a big “no-no”. And well, they think that because I go on the odd date, I guess it’s been translated as I want to be seeing someone. Not the case, I am just terrible at saying no to women. I actually hate going on dates with people I don’t know very well, I like hanging out. You know, just incase any of you were thinking about asking me out… Heh.

Renee and Jesse, bless their little hearts, have been trying to set me up on dates with all these women which really aren’t my normal type. For example, I’m in a Queer Film course with Jesse, and it’s pretty much prime cruising territory. Jesse was thoroughly amused one day when girls started swooning over me (weird….), and now thinks that I should pursue them. One of them was kind of good looking, but she has poor taste in shoes, and that is a big hurdle for me (because I’m such a kind, and accepting person, but that’s for another blog).

But I digress-ish. It doesn’t matter who throws themselves at me, I don’t want to be in a relationship, and that’s why I wasn’t one of those people who doesn’t have anyone and joins anti-Valentine’s groups. Nor am I one of those people who join those groups on principle, nor am I one of those people who just got into a relationship and joins those groups because they’re secretly broke and can barely remember the name of their new significant other. I am one of those people who cleans my apartment, does all my laundry, crosses things off a list that I wrote a month ago and still haven’t touched, looked for a new loft to move into and goes to the gym (not in a futile attempt to pick up someone last minute, either. I know all your tricks).

All my friends are in relationships or want to be in relationships, and I guess I’m on the outside in that respect. But what’s so wrong with being single and loving it?