leroBlog

On March 6th, T-Pain and I will be hosting a reading of my book in Atlanta, Georgia.

Please come! I mean, just come from WHEREVER you are. I’ll pay. Just drop me an email and I’ll send you a cashier’s cheque.

i’m pretty nuts about this monkey ninja zombie bumblebee thing that jamie hewlitt and damon albarn made in 2008.

a doctor on facebook told me that the nipple-shaped mole on my back is bad news. the thing is, i like ignoring things, so i’m turning march into March Moleness. i will track the disturbing progress of my little pet and consider action in april, when it is natural for things to be activated.

here is a photo of my father and i somewhere. he would be disappointed to know that i am delaying any kind of professional mole scrutiny.

we were in an anti-gravity chamber in france. it’s where i summered — a nice anti-gravity chamber in the Perigord region.

my brother says there are too many photos on this blog of me! goddAMmit nico!

i’m kidding about the mole! i’m seeing doc ho ping kong on friday. last time she saw me i had anxiety-induced eczema on my face and my eyes had swelled shut. i looked like a siamese cat that looked as though it had been smashed with a frying pan. later, my skin flaked off in giant reptilian chunks. the bulk of it came off during a meeting with my financial advisor, apple tang.

i have to see dr. barbara ho ping kong. she is my dermatologist who will take care of the hurting mole on my back that looks a LOT like a tiny tiny nipple.

Sitcom Idea

Dave came over yesterday and shot the living hell out of me.

the photos are to go along with a piece i wrote for the Guardian.

unrelated: IT IS MY DAD’S BIRTHDAY!

Potential wedding vows to future husband: “OK you shitty stranger, make me come.”

this is you.

When my friend Sis moved to town, she found a bachelor in a cracky bit of Toronto. The house was divided into several single-unit places and each one was filled with oddballs. One woman was interested in permaculture and lined the small patch of front garden with newspapers. Another brought her a framed pencil crayon drawing of two chickens pecking at a lettuce patch. Her landlord was an 80-something man with stringy white hair and an IV drip on wheels. He would come to visit her to have philosophical talks and also drop off gifts. One day, he offered her a box of 9 mm Luger bullets.

Six months later, after I’d broken up with my live-in boyfriend Peter, Sis and I decided to move into a nice two-bedroom in the Kensington Market. We lived there happily for three years. Eventually, she moved out. Shortly thereafter, a colony of roaches moved in, as well as a Brit named Rich. The exterminator was called in multiple times, but unable to get rid of the roaches. Frustrated and kind of terrorized, I called the landlord in a panic and screamed A BOMB THE PLACE! I DON’T CARE! JUST POISON EVERYTHING. The landlord organized the requested A-bombing, but told us we first had to clear out all the kitchen cabinets (they were mainly in the kitchen.) My boyfriend at the time (another one) was helping — cleaning out the one above the fridge. He tapped me on the shoulder with the box of Luger bullets in his hand and a question mark on his face. Then he pointed up at the cabinet to show me that we’d accidentally stashed them with a cylinder of butane and a large can of chalkboard paint.

When I moved into the place I’m now living, I brought the bullets. Now I use them as joke arts and crafts presents.

I gave this particular bullet with YOUR NAME on it to my friend Pat tonight. His eyes were so filled with emotion!

Here is some goofing from 2006. Shot and edited with love by two friends the morning and afternoon after a long long evening getting lap dances at Club Paradise.