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How to Do ANYTHING Better on 4/20

420 Vancouver by gillicious

420 Vancouver by gillicious

Yes, it’s a civic holiday in Vangroover (not really, but yeah) and there’s a distinct likelihood that several, if not even plenty of my readers, yes, we can see you out there, you left the webcam on and your eyeballs look like piss holes in the snow, may be somewhat affected by, shall we say, hyperlocal atmospheric conditions.

So, in the spirit of serviceyness, we present a couple of handy-dandy guides that will help you pretend not to be completely fucked up.

First up, Mowing Your Lawn on PCP:

Great! Don’t you feel productive now? But the night is still young, so don’t stop the buzz now! Grab a bottle of some refreshing liquid and follow along with Jenna Marbles as she shows you how to do makeup drunk.

And now Hannah from My Drunk Kitchen shows you How to Make Poutine, which you will want if you got baked, yourself:

She should definitely NOT have licked up the gravy that dissolved the dust from Burning Man and washed it down with a Caesar. She was only drunk before: now she’s a bad case of All Of The Above.

One thing that should not be attempted under the influence: singing in the car. If you’re the driver, you shouldn’t be messed up, and if you’re not the driver, you’re annoying the driver. Besides, no matter how awesome you think you are, you aren’t as awesome as this guy (yes, more Canadian Content; we’re just that much better at being drunk/stoned than you are):

And, no matter how awesome you think you are, even if you are sober and your audience is completely shitfaced, you will never be as good as Nicki Bluhm and The Gramblers, who use their van as a recording booth while tootling around San Francisco belting out cover tunes.

You’re welcome.

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The Shape of Things to Come

Mylene Farmer could never be called modest

Mylene Farmer could never be called modest, but if YOU looked like that, would YOU be?

Followers of the ol’ raincoastersphere, specifically Manolofood.com, will be aware that I recently did a 48-hour hunger strike, and only cheated once. During this fast, I gained three pounds. I do not recall any victims of waterboarding complaining about weight gain, and most hunger strikers of my acquaintance have been precisely the sort of ectomorphs who should be raising awareness by running across InNeedistan or something instead of indulging in calorie deprivation. When you’re fat, seeing skinny people go on hunger strikes is really under the aegis of the Department of Insult to Injury. As is the gaining of three pounds on a hunger strike.

Okay, okay, when I took off my Thuggie I discovered that I’d actually lost four pounds (and also that Thuggies weigh seven pounds!) but still!

Given that I spent all of last year obsessively tracking my calorie input and output with the LoseIt app and averaged 1100 calories a day and did not lose a single pound, it’s quite clear that if I’m ever to get to my ideal, or even a slightly improved, shape, it’ll take actually breaking a sweat. More than once a month, too.

Speaking if ideal shape…the one in the above photo is pretty much it. Mylene Farmer is older than me, and she still has that figure. This one.

Of course, she has those legs; that helps. Unless my pal Anthony Youn comes up with a clever, painless and cheap leg-lengthening procedure, I will never have legs anywhere near that good, but mine when in shape are not to be sneezed at. Especially if you don’t cover your nose. But hey, I got a start on the look: I bought the lipstick!

The current fashion for bowlegged rickets victims is not one which meets with my approval, in case you were wondering. I’d love to know which photographer we can blame for a generation of starlets who all pose as if they were about to lose bladder control. When in doubt, blame everything on Terry Richardson.

Knock kneed hipster girl

Knock kneed hipster girl

So Mylene’s shape is not achievable for me, which is too bad not only for me but for everyone who has to look at me. My current shape is quite perogy-like, and everybody likes perogies, so that’s something, but it’s not what I want.

This is what I want.

Ginger Spice would be nice

Ginger Spice would be nice

Believe it or not, for me, this is doable. Hell, I already had the hair! This will take, if I keep on schedule (which I will not and let’s be honest about it, you wouldn’t either) about a year. So I’m giving myself two years, because I’m like that with myself and you would be too, if you treasured me the way I do.

And if I looked like that, you would, wouldn’t you?

If Perez Hilton can do it, so can I.

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The Easter Bunny: an emo bio

Happy Easter, Kids! You will be eaten first. Should we start with the ears?

Happy Easter, Kids! You will be eaten first. Should we start with the ears?

Did you ever wonder what motivates the great metaphysical characters of Western civilization? What drives the Tooth Fairy to make his/her nightly rounds, exchanging discarded pieces of human skulls for cold, hard cash? Is Santa a slave to the whims of children worldwide, or is he working some grand master plan? And what are we to make of a bunny who lays chocolate eggs? What kind of creepy Pon-Farr-ish motivation or downmarket chemical stimulus drives him to his zygote-scattering frenzy?

Now we know.

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What I’m Missing: in Yellowknife this week

The Long John Jamboree.

This is what it looks like, according to FranH on Flickr. They may only have a couple of hours of sunlight, but that’s two more than we’re getting in Vancouver right now. I STILL regret not seeing any competitive tea boiling when I was up there (what? WHAT? It’s a THING, I’m telling you).