This or that: Natalie Portman vs. Reusable Grocery Bags

Natalie Portman

Born on June 9, 1981 (5 days after me in the same year! Gemini's rule) - Natalie gives young hollywood that touch of class it so often lacks.

This girl has it all... looks, brains (Harvard Degree Y'all), charm, and a rockin sense of humour (the funny or die videos she does with Rashida Jones are hilarious).

Talented? You bet! Closer... The Professional... V for Vendetta... Star Wars? Queen Armadillo? I don't think I will ever understand this choice. Why not leave the crap for the poor man's version of you Natalie? Are you listening Johansson and Knightley? Then there is Garden State - you made me shoot pop out of my nose when you told Zach Braff's character ' I can't believe you're not retarded!'.

Also - you can rock a shaved head like nobody's business. Hot.

Reusable Grocery Bags

The Environment. It's so hot right now. Literally. Icebergs melting and sh*t. Won't someone please think of the Polar Bears?! Sobey's has (and most other grocery stores). Let's save the ozone layer one meal at a time.

For those of you who live outside of Toronto, we Torontonians have had to pay a nickel everytime we go shopping and require a plastic bag. A nickel PER bag. If you are like me and you end up shopping almost everyday because you have no foresight or planning skills - this adds up. So not only do reusable grocery bags save the environment, but they are cost effective in the long run... right? Wrong.

If you are not over the age of 45 - you never bring one to the store. It's not that we don't have these bags, we have oodles in our closet/drawer/cupboard. That is not the problem. The problem is that we do not plan our day around going grocery shopping - it just happens. So not only do I pay a nickel each time I go shopping for a bag - my loft is also slowly being taken over by these reusable bags. Ever open your closet and have an as*load of used-to-be pop bottles in bag form come crashing into your face. Sound familiar?

Advantage: P-p-p-Portman! She's just so perty!

This is what I think of you: Gerard Butler

Uhmm... Hi Gerard Butler... *blush*,

I had to shoot and keep down a quart of tequila, rail some **** off of a very unsanitary bathroom counter in a seedy brothel, and smoke a pack of marlboros just to get the nerve to come up here and talk to you (apparently we are in Mexico). I just wanted to tell you... you're awesome, OMG I love you! You make me weak in the knees, and giggle like a 17 year old girl. I LOVE YOU. Like, borderline swimfan.

Where are you going?! Please don't be scared... That's not a gun in my pocket;)

Okay, well - while I have you here there are some things that need to be addressed. Aside from your insane hotness.

You are - in my opinion - Hollywood's current 'it' boy. What makes me think this... Widely adored. Check. Hot career trajectory. Check. Magazine covers. Check. Ruggedly handsome. Muthereffin Check. Do you deserve this... let's see.

Upon browsing your IMDb page... well, Gerry - you've made a lot of stinkers. Tomorrow Never Dies could only be considered good if you were Mr. bond, Tomb raider 3? Seriously... Dracula 2000 - I didn't see it but Dracula movies suck 90% of the time, Timeline? With Paul Walker??? Why? Why would you associate your supreme awesomeness with that schlock? I could go on with questionable credits, but you get the picture.

Then there was RocknRolla. Where you played One Two. And our love affair began. You were tough, and FUNNY, and the scene where you slow danced with Handsome Bob cause he was going to go to jail the next day and all he wanted was to dance with you... ugh... well let's just say I have a new reason to change my sheets (sorry drunken shawerma mess, you've been replaced). I also caught you on Saturday Night Live the other week - and you were good! The 300 spoof where you abolished the don't ask don't tell law for the Spartan army... priceless.

So despite your spotty filmography, you are super talented. But let's face it, even if you weren't I'd still love you just for you (and by you I mean your face). You rock a beard harder than anyone else in Tinsel Town which is aces in my book... but please no more teaming up with Katherine Heigl... She is more annoying than you are good-looking - so let's keep the attention on that face.

Call me!!!

P.S. What I lack in anatomy I make up for in enthusiasm. Wink;)

Slow Jams - Malicious Style

More music... oldie but a goody!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dG6IiTNXp1g

Favourite Lyric : I've got a roll of coins and I'm aiming for your loins and I'll never stop.

Brilliant.

This song is better than anything you are listening to right now

Check it out!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zwfCjYv7gVQ

I love this track... and the video is wicked bad. Enjoy.

This or that: Nirvana (the band) vs. Vacuum Cleaners

Welcome to a new Thursday special... From now on I will be posting 'This or that' on Thursdays, 'What I think of you' on Tuesdays, and bulls*it the rest of the time. This or that is an in-depth (questionable) comparison of two people/groups/things/places, with one coming out on top.

Nirvana: Famous grunge rock pioneers circa the early 90's. Made up of Kurt Cobain (deceased), Dave Grohl (toiling in Nickelbackiness... ugh), and that other dude (Chris Norberneznik? Chris Napavasilic? Chris Nern... who cares). Most famous for being the initiaters of the Seattle music scene craze (and the untimely and grisly death of their vocalist) with their smash hit 'Smells Like Teen Spirit'... A raucous, loud, lyrically incoherent 5 minutes - and it rocked. It rocked so hard they did a mash-up of it against Destiny's Child and it still sounded raw.

For a band that only really had 4 years in the spotlight... they have spawned quite the following even today. Teenagers who were barely alive when Nirvana was putting out new music are still wearing 'Nevermind' t-shirts (which those of us who were alive find annoying). I know you'll say 'but they released You know you're right in 2002!' To that I say 'You know you're right' was shiteous. Terrible. You know I'm right.

It is in this humble bloggers opinion, that Nirvana's body of work is largely overrated. The singles are catchy and angsty; however, as a complete body of work it is a completely inferior to say... Pearl Jam (and Mr. Veddar is WAY swoonier than Cobain and his poor hygiene vibe). Now let's all have a mass flannel burning ceremony.

Vacuum Cleaners: Much like their competition... VC's are raucous, loud, and make other people in the same room incoherent. The older models just really blow dust and dirt back up into the air, so really nothing is being cleaned. They are expensive (you get what you pay for), and clumsy (unless you get one of those slick European ones), much like Kurt Cobain's journals that were released in 2002 - right about when 'You Know you're right' was...hmm... Artistic Integrity or cash grab? You tell me.

If you are a smart person, you will switch over to hardwood asap. Brooms and swiffers really are more efficient. But alas, to date no one has come up with a better alternative for a quick carpet clean than your old, clunky, attatchment-missing VC.

Advantage: Vacuum Cleaners, cause they aren't obsolete... yet.

We didn't start the fire! Shorty did...But we'll let her burn up the dancefloor!

So I know I usually write about things that don't matter much to most people; however, this post is about something truly important... Climate Change. Why am I writing about this here you ask? Well, on October 15th 2009 it was International Blogfest day (or some sh*t like that)... a kind of holiday for bloggers around the world... where we all post about one subject. This year that subject was climate change. I would not have had to do this if everyone who visited my page (there were over 100 of you yesterday) would start FOLLOWING my blog. I know who you are, I SEE your IP addresses. Follow it... or the next 'What I think of you' post will be about YOU.

Anyway - this is a shameless attempt to get my blog out there.

Climate Change... is something I can actually write about - believe it or not I work with the energy and resources industries quite closely and it has been an issue within that sector since I started dealing with them, and continues to be.

The Climate Change initiatives biggest enemy is not carbon - but money. Industry is generally a bit slow to comply with ever-changing Air Emissions Standards. I'm not going to do an in-depth analysis of the economic implications of these policies on this blog; however, these are multi-million/billion dollar changes to existing infrastructure in certain cases. Pricey, huh?

'Oh but it's worth it to save the planet?!' I agree. Please believe me I agree (except that I live in Canada and the idea of not trudging to work in boots come December with inevitably soaked bottom half of pants, and messed up hair from your toque... is well, kind of dreamy). But you need to understand the way these companies work. They DO make unbelievable amounts of money (well, the bigger ones at least... there are plenty of smaller oil & gas and mining outfits that struggle), but they are in fact private corporations. They have as much a right to profit as your local mechanic or grocer - as long as it is within the framework of our country's energy/resources regulatory body.

Which brings me to my point. Private energy and resource companies are demonized on a regular basis for environmental impacts, abusing First Nations traditional land, and creating eyesores by the communities around their projects. Should they be blamed? Yes and no... but more no. It is OUR government that continues to let these things happen. Why? Money, Money, Money. Any mass change needs to start in Parliament. You cannot expect industry to comply with anything but the minimum requirements, just hope.

So yay for renewables (which Ontario is currently doing a wonderful job of promoting I might add... Big ups to the Aborginal Loan Guarantee program! What What!), and yay for clean coal, and yay for Earth, Wind, Water, Fire, Heart... together they become Captain Planet... he's our hero, gonna take pollution down to zero. But the unfortunate truth is that Fossil Fuel energy is here for a while.

Now pass me a can of hairspray to unload and a bottle of tanning oil (totally kidding... err).

Check it: www.blogactionday.org

Follow me on twitter - @MaliciousMike81

This is what I think of you: Tori Amos

Hi Tori Amos,

You are a recording artist of mid-level fame - mostly known for your metaphor heavy emotionally intense songs, your prodigal skill with a piano, and eerie vocal stylings. I have a few things to say to you.

Tori... the Cornflake Girl... You are opinionated this is for sure. Your idiosyncratic comments about religion, sex, and feminism are strongly and creatively worded; however, it's your comments about other people I take umbrage with. This year you went on record saying Lady Gaga was a 'meteor' (again with the metaphors you clever clever girl), and probably would not last. To date - Lady Gaga has put out one album that has sold upwards of 3 million copies and 20 million digital singles. Upon reading your wikipedia page you have had some 25 million records sold in total since the early 90's. Lady Gaga is more popular now than you have ever been. Perhaps you are a superior songwriter, piano player, maybe even intellectual - but music is a business and you have been beaten in that respect.

There are also the comparisons to Ani Difranco - I'm not sure where you stand on Ani as an artist. But your fans seem to hate her. This is how I see it - Ani has a penchant to tell it like it is. You like to show-off with your poetic devices and let us figure it out on our own. As a writer one of the first tools I learned was to write as if my audience was dumb. I don't get poetry, or anyone's fascination with it... I don't think this makes me intellectually inferior, just lazy. Ani has more bite in one word than you do in an entire flimsy breathy one of your songs.

You are also in desperate need of a tan.

Don't get me wrong, 'Boys for Pele' was good... It's just that 'The Fame' curbstomps it. Someone needs to slap the uppitiness out of you like a red-headed stepchild (that was a similie... see? you're not so special).

Now back in your cave.

Never Sit on a Couch in Turkey

As I sit to write this weekend update I realize I have no idea what I did on Friday. Seriously. Not because I was too drunk, or out of control in general, but because it blended in. When I talk to the people I grew up with who still live in the suburbs - I'm always hearing about quiet nights in, movie nights, glass of wine and some cuddling kinda evenings. To this I say - 'Well, what did you do on the weekend?' Completely oblivious to the fact that that was their weekend. I think I might be able to count the amount of Fridays and Saturdays I have stayed in (and done nothing) post high school on two hands... And I don't count going to the movies - you can go to a movie on a weekday and be fine for work in the morning. No skill involved there. Just the ability to sit and stare.

The fact that I cannot remember Friday (even though precisely at this moment I DO remember what I did) might mean that I either need to scale back the night outs... in an effort to make each one more memorable OR I could find new places to go. This seems more productive. I will explore my city further, make new friends, destroy my liver and soul in new venues. Any suggestions?

Saturday... I remember. Vividly. Well, vividly might be pushing it; however, it was quite memorable. The night started out like any other, consuming a magnum of wine to myself and then heading out to meet the boys. The bar was pretty much like any other night (Woody's in this case)... until the last 20 minutes. We were sitting at a table talking amongst ourselves when we finally noticed that there was a table of similar aged, good looking men right next to us. After some yell flirting we decided to push the tables together. 20 minutes later the lights came on (which is one of the worst feelings in the world), affirming that we were all reasonably attractive individuals. Time to go home? I think not.

Illegal after hours clubs! First we headed to one on Queen West - though they wouldn't open the door for us b/c some drunken frat dorks were standing outside and making a scene. So DJ suggested we hit a different one - in Kensington Market (Capital of Hipster of Douchebaggery in my opinion... and it's my blog, so piss off). This place was in the middle of the city, but felt completely isolated... Situated down a dark alley, it's door was covered with graffitti. After we knocked on the door, a very tough-looking woman answered and informed us (in a very surly manner) that we shouldn't fu*kin knock and there is a camera mounted so they can see we need to be let in.

This place was dirty. DIRTY. Not only were they illegally serving alcohol after hours, but there was also illegal gambling and I'm pretty sure prostitution going on. The only girl I saw there aside from the bartender (who looked kinda like a younger Grace Jones... but less majestic... and more used) was a tranny prostitute who took a liking to me - see she was Turkish and sells her body, and I'm the whitest arabic person you've ever seen and collect comics... that makes us the same? According to her, yes. After she regaled me with a story about how she offered a guy a bj, and he refused calling her disgusting, then later when he was in the washroom she accosted him and he let her (straight guys, please stop playing coy... it's embarassing) she said goodbye to me and tried to kiss me... I gave her the cheek (thank god my reflexes weren't too impaired). Still - I had to leave shortly after because I was sure I had Turkish Prostitute herpes all over my face and the couch I was sitting on looked like it might have had Hepatitis C.

Attention - Get your A*s to the Dance Floor!

So I have this awesome friend who is a wicked fresh DJ... Goes by DJ TLA.

If you read my blog, this is the aforementioned remix of Lady Gaga's 'Paparazzi' he made. When he first let me listen to it he prefaced the song by telling me it's 'super gay'... That it is - but also super awesome. At least I think so - and my opinion is better than yours... about everything... all the time. Eat it.

Here's the link my duckies - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=83fBv1fCUhA

ALSO! Another post coming today as I have had quite the booze fueled Tuesday night! Until then.

Thanksgiving Extravaganza or Girls Girls Girls!

Thanksgiving weekend has come and gone. I still feel the 'turkey sleeps'... but that might also be my addiction to cough medicine. Apart from the two thanksgiving feasts I put my waistline through over the past three days - I managed to get blind drunk at a pre-birthday, and birthday party. Is everyone familiar with the' birthday week'? Apparently mothers who gave birth from 1978 to 1985 took a whole week to squeeze their litter out.

I know this to be true because I am a 1981... and everyone I call a friend was born circa '78-'85. All of these people have multiple events for one occasion (kinda like straight people and weddings... seriously, like 7 functions for a wedding??? I'm glad you're in love but f*ck off).

Anyway, this past weekend we were celebrating the birth of the one and only DJ. On Friday after consuming a pre-bottle of wine to socially lubricate ourselves, B-rock and I headed over to DJ's place for the pre-drink... It is a tradition of mine to always preempt the pre-drink with booze so I don't spend the first 20 minutes of the pre-drink downing copius amounts of booze to deal with my conversational awkwardness. At his place, there were upwards of 20 very good looking eligible gay men. Could it be things were looking up for Malicious?

No. They were not.

Where do 30 drunk gay men go for a birthday to dance? Church Street? No. Queen West? Are you kidding? The Brunswick House? Uh... ya? Yes, we went to the Brunny (which I have described to people in the past as 'where frat boys go to date rape stupid girls'). Despite my initial reservations I had a great time... I think. All was a bit fuzzy after B-Rock and I polished the 26 er of Crown at DJ's place and then everyone was buying everyone shots... and then THIS happened. At a party filled with gorgeous goodlooking men - drunk and having a good time. I picked up a... girl. Yes - I was making out with a girl all over that bloody bar. In the end I remember three things from that night:

1. Screaming 'Don't Stop Believing' at the top of my lungs into the poor persons ear beside me
2. Girls mouths are small
3. There is nothing worse than falling asleep with a messy shawarma still in your hand

Thanks Booze.

Love,

Malicious

Today's Post is brought to you by the Number '3'

Ever since I heard the old adage, 'Good things come in threes' - I have been terrified. What is the shelf life of these supposed 'good things'? Does it mean 3 good things will happen to you in your lifetime? Or is it more like a renewable cycle - after every 3 good things that happen, do I get three more at a later date? How long do I have to wait to qualify for my next set?

Conversely, does this mean bad things come in threes as well? Must I go through a trio of terrible events in order to redeem my good gift card? Or do these things happen concurrently? I also contemplate the magnitude of the good or bad thing that happens - is it like physics? Does every action have an equal reaction?

I am going to go back to Yesterday evening and count...

Hailstorm called me with a free ticket to a movie - GOOD THING
Did not die in my sleep - GOOD THING
iPod played a continuous stream of good songs while on shuffle during walk to work without me having to press 'next' a billion times - GOOD THING

Person brought dog into the office today and it took a sh*t right beside my desk... almost vomitted - BAD THING
(*side note: this is a prime example of why I am a cat person through and through)
Yogurt that was purchased three days ago says the expiry was Sept. 17 - BAD THING

So as it stands I am waiting for one more bad thing to happen to me - and tonight I will be seeing my ex for the first time in months at a mutual friend's party... he will most likely bring his new special friend... hmm, maybe i'll pass away before that... which could be more pleasant (side note part two: this is why I love objects now). If I die I leave all my assets to Hailstorm... thanks for the movie! Enjoy my comics.

Bizarre Love Triangle

I have a major dilemma... Nelly ft. Kelly Rowland style for real. I used to laugh at the people who cheated (and worried about it) - s*x and intimacy could totally be separated. Right? I thought so.

So... I should tell you (if you don't already know), I am an objectum sexual. I don't love people, just things (check out http://www.objectum-sexuality.org/). I don't really understand why people fall in love with other people, they have thought processes and entire lives of their own! How can you control that?! I mean, what good is spending time with someone if you have to do what THEY want to do sometimes, or god forbid anticipate how something you do will make THEM feel?! Madness. Plus it's so passe.

Being an Objectum Sexual is hip... and I am the hippest because I am involved in a sordid affair, caught against my own better judgement between two formidable suitors. What could be worse? I'll tell you - they both moved in with me over the past few months, so now it's just so darn awkward to be in my own home. I just can't bring myself to ask one of them to leave.

This is my own version of Alanis Morissette's 'Unsent'

Dear Slow Cooker I like you alot,
You were first in my heart and second to none
I hope you know that
I want you to know that I truly appreciate
Coming home from work tired and hungry
To find that you have been slaving away all day
Delicious Pot roast.

Dear Space heater, you rocked my world
Our love is new and truly exciting
I hope it lasts
You should be privy to the fact that I glow
When you cuddle me to sleep at night
The best is that you're still there when I wake up
Toasty blankets.

As you can see I am at an impass. How do I live without one of these lovers?

It's not cold in here, you're just dying

It's Saturday 11:04 am and I feel surprisingly coherent after spending a night out with Brett. Yesterday morning everything was terrible and today - 180 degrees my friends. Why you ask? Two magnificent words - Space Heater.

Explanation: Okay so I live in loft ( a REAL loft, not a chi chi one) on the top floor... we are talking concrete and exposed bricks. It makes for a living space with real character, but the unfortunate side effect is little to no insulation. Translation: When the weather turned chilly this week I became dead-like. At first to combat this - I bundled. This is a hard thing for me to do, I loathe having to wear more than skimpy underwear in my own dwellings. Baggy hoodies, jogging pants, that sort of thing. Needless to say this would not do. I will be semi-nude in my own home regardless of the weather damn it! I don't care how much energy I have to waste - to hell with you Mr. Suzuki.

So I went on Craigslist (this site is magic, provides endless hours of amusement for me) and found myself a space heater for 30 bucks (brand new!). After, I went to meet the man in a sketchy part of Toronto (Big ups Allan Gardens), he told me the heater was in his car in an underground parking garage. My spidey-sense was on the fritz so I went along. When he opened the trunk there were three things in it - my space heater, a crow bar, and a bag of red onions. So I gave him the 30 for the heater and traded a little quick s*x for the onions - what! a boys gotta eat!

Which brings me back to my beginning... It's like Jamaica in here.

Last night I went over to Brett and Williams place with a giant bottle of cheap wine (I'm not really the type to drink for taste... and if I do... it's Tang), a pack of smokes, and my freakum threads. When I got there, Brett was drinking as per usual, and William was baking up a vegan storm - two layer lemon pumpkin cheesecake - because he had entered the vegan bake-off (happening TODAY at harourfront ... 4pm-7pm... 2 bucks gets u all the samples you want!). Drink Drink Drink, smoke smoke smoke... Good Handy's.

So in an attempt to spite Big Primpin (gay hip hop party) for being so west-endy, we decided to go to the 'Dirty Sexy Party' at Good Handy's (Toronto's Pansexual playground... this is the actual tagline). This event is really an excuse to ogle pornstars... they fly one in from somewhere (usually the US) and that person does everything on stage shy of going all the way, and then moves to a private party upstairs where he does in fact go all the way in front of a select group (and yes... I am cool enough to be invited apparently). Everyone gets hot and bothered and you eventually end up going home with someone and regretting it. I left with someone... Brett. Except we went to Fran's Diner where I consumed my weight in Hollandaise sauce.

Overall the night was 80% dirty, 10% sexy, with the remaining 10% being mostly made up of mystery meat.

Today/Tonight - Vegan Bake-off and Nuit Blanche!

My Life Episode III - The Mormons Strike Back/Help! The maritimes stole my best friend.

Because of sensitive subject matter I have decided to omit all questionable and/or offensive material from the Saturday/Sunday episode. I was left with this:

Went to house party... delete delete delete... went to Buddies... delete delete delete... went back to house party... delete delete delete... woke up in a room wearing an oversized flannel house coat (neither of which were mine) and nothing underneath with a bucket next to me... delete delete delete... went for brunch with B-Rock, Cpt. Pierce, and DJ TLA (gay polygamists unite - I'm first wife!)... delete delete delete... Uber homosexual pool party with Caesars and Mimosas... delete delete delete... Hazy memory of pizza and burritos... Wake up with feelings of shame and wasted potential... Fin.