Thursday, 26 May 2011


I spent this past weekend in Vegas (stay tuned for blog posts about the Kylie Minogue concert, the Billboard Awards, and everything that Beyonce is doing wrong right now.) Went with BF, my BFF and my BFF's BF (the blog is called Bad Initials, remember?)

At one point during our first evening there we were discussing a story I'd heard about a pet snake that slept in bed stretched out with its owners that was actually sizing up the people to see if he'd be able to eat them. My BFF was quick to tell me this was not true, which comforted me a little bit...I hate snakes.

This conversation followed:

BO: Have you ever seen the video where the guy dies having sex with a horse?
BFF: Omg no ew gross why?
BO: Ah it's the worst. He's under the horse, and the horse gets too excited and puts it all the way in and the screen goes black. Apparently the guy died from internal injuries.
BF: Oh yeah, I think I heard about that.
BFF: Yeah me too, I was in that video actually.
BO: Were you the horse?
BFF'sBF: Yes, when Jason grows out his leg hair it's a nice shade of pinto.

My BFF's BF knows all about horses - he's named after one.

His name is Colter, in case you were wondering.


Wednesday, 18 May 2011

Like Riding A Bike

Last night I had a couple of bottles of wine with a few friends I hadn't caught up with in a while. We had a conversation about a cute boy they'd seen on a bike. This chat turned sexual quite quickly when we realized how dirty bikes really are.

BO: Isn't it hard to flirt with a guy on a bike? They go by so quickly.
LK: This one was stopped at the lights.
BO: Maybe you should put a row of spikes out on the sidewalk so his tires blow up and he has to stop.
LK: I remember when I bought my first adult bike - I hadn't taken a ride for about 15 years (this is when I started chuckling) and let me tell you - it's not just like riding a bike!
BO: Did you fall off?
SK: I fell off once (no longer talking about a bike.)

Perhaps his 10 speed was too powerful. Or maybe she prefers the feel of a banana seat. Personally I find they leave my inner thighs quite chafed.

If you didn't laugh at that, drink a bottle of wine and try reading it again.


Monday, 16 May 2011


I started teaching a weekly dance class last Saturday. My class focuses mainly on improvisation because I love movers who are individuals. This past Saturday was my birthday, so I instructed the dancers in my class to warm themselves up by telling me a story about their most memorable birthday while improvising movement based on their story.

I had a new girl in class who decided not to participate in this activity. She stood on the side and watched as we talked about our celebrations or our disappointments or our presents. Afterward I asked which story she would have told and she said she doesn't celebrate birthdays because she doesn't want to organize all of her friends schedules...swing and a miss. It is my genuine belief that if someone cares about you, they'll prove it to you on your birthday. Even if they stop by for 30 seconds to give you a hug, isn't that enough? It is for me.

Anyway, we continued into another structured improvisation exercise across the floor and as two dancers began to move, this visiting girl crossed to the other side of the room, put on her coat, and scurried toward the door looking as if she was about to burst into tears.

I mean, don't get me wrong - I know what it's like to realize you're taking a class that you hate. I've left classes before...pretended I was going for water and just never came back. Or pretending I was hurt so I could sit out and watch. I've given a girl permission to leave my class because it was painfully obvious she was not enjoying herself and she was dragging the energy in the room down. She wasn't doing me any favours by I told her to go. This girl on Saturday didn't even give me that chance, after 5 minutes she'd decided it wasn't for her. Which, is fine, of course, I know that not every body likes to do the same things that my body likes to do - but isn't the thing about improvising that you can do whatever you want? If you're not comfortable moving a certain way, you don't have to move that way if you don't want to (unless of course the task is to do something you're uncomfortable with.)

It just got me thinking about how as much as I'd like to say I'm a control freak, I'm really quite the opposite. It's so important to be able to go with the flow...and this girl just couldn't. I felt like a weight was lifted when she left the room - how do you celebrate a birthday with someone who doesn't even celebrate their own??

I just read Tina Fey's book Bossypants, and she talks about the value of being a good improviser in a comedic sense, but I think it works for dancing (and life) too:

Rule 1. The first rule of improvisation is to AGREE. Saying “no” grinds invention, innovation (and improv) to a screeching halt. Obviously in real life you’re not always going to agree with what everyone says. But saying YES reminds you to respect what your partner has created and to start from an open-minded place. Start with a YES and see where that takes you.

Rule 2. The second rule of improv is to not only say YES, say YES, AND. In improv, you agree and then add something of your own. If your partner starts with, “I can’t believe it’s so hot in here,” and you just say “Yeah…” the skit has stalled. But if you respond with, “What did you expect? We’re in hell!” things keep moving forward.

I've always loved Tina Fey and known her genius, but I think now I really understand why I appreciate her brand of comedy so much. She goes with the flow. She also loves food and the gays, so I'm almost certain we were separated at birth. I just refuse to wear my glasses. Even while driving.


Saturday, 14 May 2011


I sometimes forget about homophobia. Maybe it's because downtown Vancouver has more gays per capita than people, or maybe it's because I've been comfortable and secure in my own sexuality for many many years, and I try to surround myself with people who are like-minded. I genuinely think that anyone who clings to homophobia beyond the next 10 years will be seen as having an archaic point of view (if they aren't already.) It does worry me when I see comments from people in positions of power about how gay marriage is wrong and about how being gay is a choice. I want to ask these people if they feel attracted to both men and women but chose to be straight - because I know I didn't.

So anyway, I ran into my bestie Jason on the street the other day. About three seconds into our conversation we were interrupted by a (probably drunk) homeless man. He had a beard down to his nipples and was dressed in head-to-toe camouflage. He put on a high-pitched mocking tone of voice and started verbally attacking us. For example:

Homeless Man: Let's pretend to be gay and kiss each other.
BO: We're not pretending...

HM: There's so much Canadian pussy but you're not getting any of it.
BO: With that beard you're probably not getting much of it either.

HM: Bet you guys suck each other's cocks.
BO: Do you want to watch?

Which brings me to my question of the day - would I rather be gay or homeless?

Sunday, 8 May 2011


I will never ever ever get a tattoo. First of all - I'm terrified of needles, and having one jabbing me in the same place for an hour is not something I'm interested in (though wording it like that made it sounds more appealing for a moment.)

I just don't understand the need. I have art on my walls...but I can't imagine being so attached to something that I'd want it on my skin for the rest of my life. Maybe it's the same as me thinking that my high school friends are too young to be getting married - though this is maybe a lesser case (depending how big your tattoo is, I suppose.) But still, it's another reminder of something every second until the end of your days. A decision that deserves a lot of time and consideration and shouldn't be done on impulse. Maybe I'm starting to sound like a commitment-phobe...but come on people! That's a long time. And your body is going to change in unexpected and probably gross ways. That lower back tattoo is not going to look sexy, it's going to be melting down into your butt crack.

I know people who have decided to have their tattoos removed (which is a slow and painful process, if my understanding is correct.) I know people who got one tattoo and decided it was not enough and they now have 6 or 7. This brings me back to the reminder point - is that not why someone would have a tattoo? So they don't forget something? Such as your name, your last name, your mom's name, your spouses name, your birth sign, your countries flag - these all seem like cliche tattoos. Are people worried they are going to forget this information? If something means the world to me, I know it and the people around me probably do too. I don't think I need it written on me in ink to prove it.

I guess I prefer the body as a blank canvas. I see tattoos as stains or blemishes on an otherwise blank page. Like scars that you asked someone to drill into you. Though, before anyone tries to ink me in my sleep, there are some tattoos out there that I think are really beautiful. The following is not an example of one of those.

But seriously, if you have a tattoo around your arm - you are at 100% risk of being a total douchebag.


Saturday, 7 May 2011


I saw Mother Mother in concert the other night. It was a good show, if a bit long. I'm just a casual listener, so after a while the songs all started to blend together. That, and they didn't play my two absolute favourites.

Anyway, I was selecting my outfit and I decided to wear my new Paul Smith shorts that are navy blue and covered in little white stars. I got them at Barney's in New York and they are amazing. 

I walked out in my outfit and GM (Gay Mike) asked if I was just going to wear underwear to the show. I was taken back - I know my shorts are a bit short and a bit tight...but they are not boxers.

When I argued that my shorts didn't look anything like underwear, GM had the perfect ammunition to combat me with.

I'm starting to wonder if he planned it.

People at the concert did seem to be looking at me like I'd forgotten to wear pants. Not that it would have been the first time I went out in my undies.



The other night my friend Gay Mike shared a story with me about a Little Girl (LG) his friend used to teach. Before his friend could answer, Another Little Girl (ALG) answered her:

LG: Teacher - why does everyone has a nose?
ALG: How else would they know when the cookies are done?

Aren't kids cute? I keep trying to make babies but for some reason I can't get it to work. That being said - what is it with people and rushing into making babies? I was home in Manitoba last week and every time I visit I'm always surprised at the number of people my age who are already engaged or married or have one kid or two kids or three kids. I'm 22, by the way. Don't you think these people are a bit young to be rushing into these decisions that will last for the rest of their lives? It makes me nervous.

I suggested to my mom and brother that I am behind schedule - that I need to hurry up and make a family. To that my brother had this to say:

"Nah, I have some friends who are like 26, 27, and they don't even have girlfriends. You're doing ok."

I have been with my manservant (who will be known here as CW) for more than 5 years...but I'm in no rush to get married. Mostly because I want a big ass ring and he's still in school so he can't afford it yet. But also because I don't know what I'm doing with my life. I'm all over the place - I need some stability in my career and finances before I can lock myself to another person forever and ever and ever. But maybe that's just me? I guess people figure they can always get divorced if it doesn't work out. Or maybe they don't look at it cynically like I do - they hope for the best and maybe it will work out.

But if your fiance is twice your age, has more hair on his back than he does on his head, and already has children with his previous wife - you should not be marrying him. That's just common sense.


Tuesday, 3 May 2011

Election Night

I was home in Carman, Manitoba for election night for the first time since I turned 18. I was the only member of my household who actually voted - and I voted for my riding in Vancouver. It's alright though, my dad and my brother say they would both have voted Conservative if they had voted. My dad because the Conservatives support big corporations, and he hopes to strike oil someday. My brother because I told him not to vote Conservative and he wants to piss me off. Though, in a rural bible belt riding like the one my family lives in, it wouldn't make a difference one way or another - the Conservatives won by a landslide, as they always do (the NDP ran someone by the name of Mohammed Alli - possibly hoping that blind people would assume he was the boxer?)

It was a fantastic night for the NDP - more than doubling their highest ever seat count, they finally helped us get rid of the useless Bloc and helped demonstrate that the Liberals just aren't quite left enough. All is not well in the great white north though, because the Conservatives inexplicably gained a majority (even though they only received 39.6% of the popular vote, and less than 60% of eligible voters actually voted.) Good thing I'm planning a move to NYC - hopefully by the time I move back Canada will have it's flawed electoral system figured out, it has failed us one too many times.

I suppose I run in a group of people that consists of primarily artists and the general feeling I got going into the election was that Stephen Harper would be out on his ass, and rightfully so. He was found in contempt of parliament and he's not honest with the Canadian public. He's also a total douche. I assumed that everyone was pissed off by him but apparently voters aren't worried about what should be big offenses. I can only hope they live to regret it.

On a lighter note, before the election coverage started the news treated us to a list of some good cheap wines. I was taking notes, and my dad remembered he'd heard good things about another wine:

Dad: Have you ever tried Ménage à Trois?
Me: Not the wine.


Sunday, 1 May 2011


My brother's room is really messy. Apparently he lost a capo in there last week. My mom found a kitchen knife on his dresser. She says there are condoms all over the place.

My dad: He's probably just using them to make balloons.
Me: Penis balloons.

I imagine it's difficult to blow a balloon with your penis. This is also my second post in a row about penises. I think it might become a trend.