Happy Halloween!

Boo!

Here's your treat.

More on Halloween ghouly night later.

I wanted to write more on Halloween but I was too busy watching Texas Chainsaw Massacre. I hate to say it but I didn’t dress up this year. I wanted to go as the A-Team with me as Hannibal and Mutton as B.A. Baracus, but I didn’t really get into the Halloween spirit until later in the week and by then there was no time. Next year I vow to dress up and go all out. Anyway I’ve been racking my brain to try and remember every costume I’ve worn over the years going all the way back to when I was little. If you want to skip this I understand. It’s pretty long and pretty self-serving.
Without further ado, here’s what I was for Halloween every year since 1978.

Angel (age2)

My mother says that my first costume was an Angel. Kind of weird to dress a little boy up as an Angel but oh well, I had no choice in the matter. Over the years if this costume was mentioned to anyone over the age of 40 they would respond with, “I bet that was the first and last time YOU were ever considered an Angel . Ho-ha -ha”.

Clown (age 3)

My sister and I were both clowns one year. Surprisingly there’s nothing really funny to say about that.

Ghost (age 4)

In Kindergarten I was a ghost. The costume was bought at a toy store and consisted of a white plastic tarp with a picture of a ghost and the word “ghost” written on it and a white and grey mask with wavy, smoky lines on it. The mask only covered my eyes because there was a big push in the early 80s for kids to wear masks that offered better visibility. That campaign failed. This was a stupid costume because it would have been far easier, cheaper and more authentic for me to just wear a sheet but I picked it so I guess I was stupid when I was 4. If you want more proof I also had trouble spelling “brown” back then.

Darth Vader (age 5)

If you were old enough to know who Darth Vader was in 1981 and you didn’t want to be him then there was something wrong with you. I remember my mom made the chest controls out of things from around the house glued to a piece of cardboard.

Dracula (age 6)

Pretty standard. All I remember is that I loved wearing the teeth and I wore them so much that they started to smell and I had a cool medallion

Ewok (age 7)

Return of the Jedi came out that year and ruled my world with an iron fist. My friend Spencer’s mother was big into sewing him elaborate costumes and his Ewok costume was amazing. My mom could only sew the head so I paired it with an old Indian costume my sister had.This made me one skinny, weird-looking, slightly offensive Ewok.

Headless Horseman (age 8)

Another one of my childhood obsessions. I think this was made from the old remnants of my Dracula costume. I also had one of those orange plastic pumpkins to keep my candy in that doubled as my head.

Ninja (age9)

My parents went to San Francisco that year and bought me this amazing authentic Ninja gui. I loved that thing. My cousin loved it to. When ever he came to visit he’d put it on and wear it all weekend. I think he peed in it once.
Regular Army Guy (age 10)
I was big into playing army when I was young and had a huge collection of army surplus stuff. To this day I still can’t resist looking in army surplus stores.

Alien (age 11)

I had my face painted green and this really cool space gun from Consumers Distributing that had all these different sounds. I wore this black and silver tunic thing that I found at the Appleby United Church rummage sale too. I dressed up to go to cub scouts at the church and the woman who once owned the tunic was their and shouted “That’s my dress!” Yeah… that was kind of weird and embarrassing.

Dead Army Guy (age 12)

The natural progression. I found this great rubber zombie mask that had a rubber army helmet attached to it. Topped it off with a lot of fake blood.

The Joker (age 13)

I was big into Batman that year. I had a purple suit and a purple berry. I looked like an idiot.

Hillbilly (age 14)

This was the last year I went out for Halloween. My friend Spencer and I both dressed up as creepy Hillbillies. The costume consisted of jeans, a flannel, one of my mom’s dirty old curly haired wigs, a mesh-backed hat, hillbilly teeth and a monkey wrench.

Creepy Clown (age 15)

Spencer and I were too old to go trick or treating but we still wanted to do something so we dressed as creepy clowns and went out pranking people. I bought a child’s size costume so it was really tight and grosse looking and I used my hillbilly teeth from last year. All I can remember about Spencer is that he had a pokka dot top hat on. We went around smashing pumpkins, popping balloons full of shaving cream in people’s faces, throwing shaving cream pies and lighting fire-crackers. We were kind of assholes.

Resonator Twin (age 16)

There were these like 40 year old twins that lived across from the library that we called the Resonator Twins because we once heard one of them say the word resonator and thought it was funny. A few of us decided to dress as them and go to their door on Halloween. We wore overalls and big black moustaches with pillows for big guts. They thought we were plumbers. I got a mini Oh Henry bar and kept it on my shelf in my room for about 2 years until a mouse ate it.

Mexican Zombie (age 17)

Zombie mask, poncho and a Sombrero. I’m not sure why.

King Tut (age 18)

Not the long dead Pharaoh. This was a character that I made up for a friend’s English class movie. He was kind of a cross between Sleazy P. Martini from Gwar and Borat. The outfit involved a 70s 3 piece suit, afro wig and moustache (the same moustache from the Resonator Twins days). I used to dress like King Tut quite a bit and walk around Burlington (for fun??!!) The movie we made was great. I wish I still had a copy.

Gay Scout Master (age 19)

I put on my dad’s old scout leader uniform and tied the shirt up around my chest ala Daisy Duke. The result? Very creepy. Especially when I was handing out candy to kids.

A Skid (age 20)

This was one of my favorite costumes. I had long black hair and a black baseball cap. A realistic black handlebar moustache, dirty old jeans and work boots, a chain wallet, a leather hip pack and a Skid Row “Slave to the Grind” t-shirt. None of my friends recognized me. I still have the t-shirt and wore it again years later to a white-trash Christmas party.

Beater Kid (21)

I don’t remember much about this costume. I was just supposed to be a kid that was big into hip-hop. Mainly to make fun of kids that were big into hip hop.

Scottish Football Hooligan (age 22)

This was a good one. Rangers track-suit, tartan hat with red hair, gold chains and rings, Scotland tattooed on my knuckles and red chest hair. Sadly I have family members that are kind of like this for real.

I Can’t Remember (age 23)

I Can’t Remember (age 24)

A Goth (age 25)

Pretty self explanatory. My girlfriend and I thought it would be funny. The best part is when we were at a party and someone looked at us and said “What are those Goths doing here?” Success.

Medieval Knievel (age 26)

I was going to a medieval themed Halloween party so I dressed part knight and part 70s daredevil. I wore a knight’s costume but I also had a crash helmet with a knight’s grill on it with Medieval Knieval written on the back in old English, mirror shades and biker gloves .

Alex from Clockwork Orange (age 27)

I DJed a night called Droog back then so it seemed fitting. The costume was pretty good considering I threw it all together on the night.

Scrambled Porn (age 28)

I was the scrambled porn station on your tv. I got a big cardboard box and made it into a tv set with a little channel 69 number in the corner. I painted my face blue and had a moustache. I bought a yellow t-shirt and painted a blue tit, some squiggly lines and a green boner on it. Beautiful in its simplicity.

Contrived Punk Rock (age 29)

This one is kind of hard to explain. My girlfriend and I wanted to go as this Punk Rock couple from an old Canadian disco show from back in the 70s. I’ve tried to find the video to post but I can’t. The video is awesome, our costumes…. not so much.

Liverpool Football Hooligan (age 30)

I was going to a party and couldn’t decide what to be. It seemed easy and it was. I wore pretty myuch what I wear anyways with a black eye and some fake tattoos.

Didn’t Dress Up (age 31)

Didn’t Dress Up (age 32)

Whew!That was fun. My brain hurts. See what I mean, the past 2 years… nothing. Next year I have to dress up. Thanks for reading. Hope you had a Happy Halloween.

Mwooohahahahahahahahaha!

Happy Birthday Mutton!

My Sheep Dog Mutton is 2 today. Although you're older now I still can not let Japanese girls or flaming gay guys pet you for fear your cuteness will cause them to explode or melt like Raiders of the Lost Arch Nazis. Shine on you crazy Diamond!

P.S. Here’s your cake.

What the Duck??!!

I had a reasonable picture of one here but they are now so rare that even that picture is gone... sigh.

Yesterday’s post got me thinking… Where have all the Duck Shirts gone? Back when I was about 10 or 11 every kid I knew had one of these shirts. It all started with the infamous “Duck Off” shirt that had a cartoon duck on it giving the finger (I know, I know, Ducks don’t even have fingers… so many layers to the comdy). “Duck Off” was a great shirt, we all wanted one, but most of our parents wouldn’t allow it. I guess white trash wasn’t as well established back then as it is now. So they had to make other Duck Shirts. They needed shirts with that same bad boy on the edge attitude but less out right offensive. There was a t-shirt shop in the Appleby Mall that sold a whole bunch. I purchased one with a cartoon duck in army fatigues holding a missile launcher with the phrase “Don’t Duck With Me” on it. It was beautiful. Not only did it still hold true to the original “Duck Off” but the duck was in army fatigues! You know, I think it might have even been a tank top. What a tank top was doing on a 10 year old boy I don’t know. I’d be hard pushed to say that back then I had the kind of physique that would back up the words on the shirt. Oh well, it was probably all they had and I couldn’t wait.
Other such great Duck Shirts that the store carried were “What the Duck”, “Duck U” this one had a college motif, and my other favorite “Frankly My Dear, I Don’t Give A Duck” this was a very complex design that had a duck in a hammock drinking a beer while his wife duck appeared to be yelling at him while holding a lawn mower. God I wish I had that shirt. When I used to be big into collecting vintage clothing I was in Value Villages, Amitys, Goodwills and vintage stores all the time and I never came across one of these shirts. Even now when I look online I can’t find a single one on Ebay, Craigslist or one of the thousands of lame t-shirt sites. The picture I posted above is the closest I’ve found. The drawing is the same with the beady eyes and that over-hanging bill but the slogan is not a play on the Duck for Fuck wording so I suspect it’s not an original. Plus listen to the description that goes with the shirt:

"The "buck" stops here was getting old, so the duck took over. Here he is sporting his finest shades while sipping on a Tom Collins. He's so leisurely, and you should be too. If this duck knows how to kick back and relax, imagine what you're capable of. Next thing you know, you'll be partying with the cast of "The OC." Just remember where the duck stops and you're solid gold"

What the Duck is that all about? I smell a fake. I think we just have to face it. Much like the dinosaurs, the Aztecs and real TV Dinners, Duck Shirts are now extinct and gone forever. So sad.
P.S. A couple other great shirts I remember them having were “Makein Bacon” with two pigs doing it on it and “Boning” with two skeletons doing it on it, both classics. They didn’t sell this one at the Appleby Mall but I did see it when I was around the same age at the Dixie Mall Flea Market. It both amused and disturbed me. WARNING NSFW.

It Came From The Suburban 80s!!!!

This is a tale of the darkest days of fashion. It takes place on the black tops of Frontenac Public School. The years 1986-1990 bore witness to some of the worst fashion atrocities the city of Burlington, ON, Canada ever saw. This may have gone on in suburban schools all over the country but as anyone that’s lived in such a community will know you are completely isolated from the rest of the world (plus all records and photographs showing kids wearing these clothes/styles were destroyed in the early 90s when they reached high school)so I couldn’t tell you.
It all began with the “Preppy look”.
We all remember the Preppy Look. This style epitomized the mid-80s. It was Ferris Bueller, it was Jake Ryan it was to a much more ridged extent Alex P. Keaton. Burlington’s Grade 5 & 6 Alumni happily forced their parents to drive out to Bronte and Oakville Place where they could purchase Vaurnet shirts and Bass Deck shoes .

I also remember Polo shirts being popular.

Around this time pants and jean tapering became popular. It started with a simple fold along the inside calf of the pants followed by rolling up the cuff to keep the fold tight. The resulting look was something akin to the billowy look of cargo pants with draw strings at the bottom. Folding was soon replaced with safety pins to get a tighter look. The pins got more plentiful and higher until the pants reached weird mixtures of tightness and looseness of M.C. Hammer Proportions .

Frontenac kids would strut around the school yard in these bizarre mangled jeans (the locker room floor was always littered with safety pins) commenting on one another’s choice of neon for their Vaurnet shirt or what colour the sweat from foot hockey was turning their Chip & Pepper Wet Wear shirt.*

In Grade 6-7 Hip Hop in all its late 80s blandness hit Burlington. The Preppy Look was surpassed or combined with the Fresh Prince/Dwayne Wayne style to create a look of absolute horror. This look can be epitomized by one student in particular that I will just refer to as Brad. Brad was at the forefront of Burlington’s non-existent hip-hop scene. On an average day Brad could be scene wearing the following (keep in mind that Brad was kind of heavy and white as a ghost):

-Giant pair of British Nights shoes or Troop shoes.

-Ridiculous pair of Levis with deliberately made holes in the knees that had about 50 safety pins in the calves and had been covered hap-hazard in bleach.

-Polka dot dress shirt (most likely purchased from Stitches).

-A leather Africa symbol (cringe) or a Mercedes symbol around his neck. He sometimeswore both at once.

- Those round flip-up Dwayne Wayne glasses (they sold those without prescription at the Appleby mall Hakim Optical for $5).

-And the hair. Now this was the best part. Brad desperately wanted one of those big Cameo style flat tops (my dad called them chimney heads) but his hair was straight and thin. So he would painstakingly comb/gel/spray it into a big high white-blonde cube that would wilt by the end of the day.

Thankfully by about 1989 I had discovered punk rock and could leave this tragic nightmare behind me. Though it was not to last much longer anyway as Frontenac’s youth moved on to grade 9 and were forced to be less outlandish. Anyone still had their Fresh Prince of Burl-air look by mid-1990 had it severely beaten out of them by the Lord Elgin High School shop skids or had it embarrassed out of them by the arrival of Vanilla Ice or the release of Kid N Play’s movie House Party.

Keep in mind, these are grown men.



· I was no stranger to Chip & Pepper. I had a very special C&P sweat shirt called Chip & Pepper Buck Shot. It was purple and had actually been shot with a shot gun. I wore it proudly with tapered jeans and a bright orange Ocean Pacific fanny pack.

Cyclists Suck Concrete Donkey Dick.

Some shithead stole the mud-guard off my bike yesterday. Who steals a mud-guard? What are you going to do with it? Is there some drug dealer out there with zero business sense that’s trading crack for mud-guards? I doubt it. This brings me to the conclusion that who ever stole my mud-guard probably wanted it for their bike. God damn cyclist.

There’s been a lot of talk about motorists and cyclists not getting along in Toronto lately. I’ll admit that biking to work everyday I come across a lot of drivers that piss me off but usually it’s because they’re just not paying attention. They treat their car like they’re own little apartment on wheels. They sit in there and talk on their phone, finger their Blackberry, eat garbage, shave, do their make-up, smoke cigarettes. Hell some of them even do this.

My point is that most of them aren’t assholes so much as they’re just clueless. I have far more problems with the other cyclists on the road. They’re often rude, inconsiderate of every other vehicle on the road and many of them are idiots. In no particular order here’s a list of some of my most hated cyclists:

Roid-Road-Rage
The guy who even though he’s not as fast as me he still can’t take being passed and will use all his remaining energy to get past me again only to run out of steam and force me to pass him again. Actually this guy is kind of funny in a sad way but I still hate him.

Stroll Position
Painfully slow but he rides through every red light and stop sign so you have to keep passing him over and over. He’s also the guy that jumps the line at red lights. If you’re going to pass me STAY FUCKING PAST ME!!

The Bell Ringer
This is usually a woman. She will ride for 10 city blocks past row after row of parked cars dinging her bell at every single one of them to make sure they know she’s passing and don’t open their doors. Getting stuck behind her in a narrow lane where you can’t pass is a maddening experience. If you’re that paranoid snow-flake maybe you should take the fucking bus.

New Parents
Parents that let them selves go after having a baby and decide to dig the bikes out of the garage and get some exercise. They often ride a rickety old piece of shit that hasn’t been ridden since 1982. They won’t tune it or even dust it but they will strap a $2,000 mobile tent containing their precious little fuck trophy and trundle down the bike lanes all weekend bumping over curbs and side swiping cars when they miss-judge turns.

Mid-Life Crisis Riders
Middle -aged men that work downtown and decide to take up the sport of cycling. They buy $8,000 bikes and shoe-horn their doughy frame into skin tight spandex complete with racing logos down their milk bag thighs. Although it’s often a quick flash as I easily pass them, the image of that tiny seat crammed up that fat ass often haunts me for the rest of my ride. They also bother me simply for the fact that their bike is a complete waste of money. It’s like watching a the rich girl get a brand new Porsche for her 16th birthday. That bike will no doubt be sold at a garage sale in a year’s time for $200. Also I feel bad for the co-workers that accidently walk in on them changing into that outfit and see their junk.

Special mention goes to Bike Couriers. Although they are insane, obey no traffic laws and seem to dress as if they live in some sort of post-apocalyptic wasteland I can not really criticize them as they are out their everyday and compared to them my short commute is nothing but a mere jaunt.

Also special mention goes to homeless guys/crack- heads. True that I encounter many of them coming at me the wrong way while riding impassable contraptions covered in aluminum foil and liquor bags. They have little regard for their own life never mind mine.


P.S. Two months ago someone (no doubt the same piece of shit) stole my front wheel.

Captain Lou Albano RIP 1933 – 2009

Captain Lou, Captain Lou Albannnnooooo!
Louis Vincent Albano will be remembered as a great wrestler, a great manager, friend of Cyndi Lauper, catalyst of the Rockin Wrestlin era and as one of the less sought after WWF Wrestling figures of the 80’s. I’m sure right now he’s up in heaven showing Jesus how to put elastics in his beard and managing a tag team of Ravaging Rick Rude (RIP 1958-1999) and The Junkyard Dog (RIP 1952-1998).

Captian Lou in the Goonies R Good Enough video:

Captian Lou with Cyndi Lauper on Piper's Pit:

P.S. A kid I went to school with went to one of the WWF Super Slams back in the 80's and he said there was an older lady there that was in love with all the wrestlers. As they came out this kid said that the lady had them all spit in an empty Coke bottle and when it was about half full she drank it! I'm not sure if I believe him but it's a pretty weird story for a kid to make up.

I Hate the TTC!

I hate the TTC. I never take it unless I have to. I prefer my bike. Today I took the TTC and was 30 minutes late for work. I could have ridden to work and back and possibly to work again in the time it took these over-paid, unshaven Barbapappas to get me one way. Then there’s the people that ride the TTC. I’m not sure how some of these people function on a daily basis. By my account many of them should be long dead from either forgetting to breath or from being crushed, trapped in or dragged under the very subway that they must bowling ball themselves onto no matter what the cost. Also, they smell. I’m not just talking about the homeless ones. There’s nothing worse then that Monday morning aroma of ode du 8 different colognes a la post-weekend rank fart that fills a packed car. It’s right up there with Union Station’s Mr. Sub/Cinnabun fusion as one of the worst smells this city has to offer (China Town NOT included). I could carry on with a detailed break down of all the types of TTC riders that annoy me but thankfully some woman who seems to be in desperate need of a valium has already done that for me.

http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/tor/581289000.html

Oh and this is probably why I was delayed:



P.S. The worst thing I’ve ever seen on the TTC was a perfectly normal looking middle-aged woman remove her shoes, place her bare feet on the filthy street car floor while she placed said shoes on the seat beside her. Then bring each one of her feet to her mouth so she could BITE OFF HER TOE NAILS AND SPIT THEM ON THE FLOOR!!!!

"Elegent women are very rare, I'm Greek."

Meet Dimitri. If you're an elegant woman that is not taking any medication for a psychological disorder he has an opportunity for you. He's Greek.

"You are a disgusting fat body!"

There are two kinds of fat people. Now when I say fat I’m talking about gigantic, take a second look when you see them coming fat. I’m talking Jumbos. The first kind is the embarrassed fat. These are the people that are ashamed of their girth. They order a second diet Coke at McDonalds so you think they’re ordering for two and then eat it all in their car instead of the restaurant. They often seem to wind up getting fatter and fatter as they quell their depression with more and more food until they’re so big that they can’t get out of bed and lay around Jabba the Hut style until they die and have to be taken out of the house by piano movers. The second kind of fat are the shameless fats. These people start their day with a dozen eggs, a pound of bacon, wash it all down with a 2L bottle of Mountain Dew, wipe their mouth with their belly, burp and smile at the world. SF women go out in tube tops and mini-skirts, SF men wear Speedos at the beach. They just don’t care. They let their fat-flag fly. Now I’m all for this. If they’re not ready to deal with their problem then there’s no reason for them to get all depressed about it and cry themselves to sleep every night between mouthfuls of Quiznos. They’re only dooming themselves to Jabbaesque death. So shameless fats, enjoy yourself. Have that extra piece (or whole) pie. Maybe consider joining the competitive eating circuit. Who knows, maybe for you that would be like going on a diet. Just do us all one favor. Don’t go around acting like this guy.

P.S. If you liked that you're going to love this

"Whatever happened to hand-jobs?"

Oh man! Whew! Oh boy! Special treat for me last night. I turn on my TV and what do I see? Bachelor Party on AMC!!! Even though it’s more majestic moments were dubbed or cut out and I own my own unedited copy (on VHS) it’s safe to say I watched it.
If you haven’t seen Bachelor Party yet stop reading this, stop being an idiot and go watch it now. Download it, rent it, hell buy it because you’re going to want to watch it over and over and you’re going to want to lend it to friends and loved ones. Buy two copies because someone you lend it to is not going to want to give it back.
Bachelor Party is everything a good 80s movie should be and then some. Fuck John Hughes (god rest his soul). The only film that comes close to BP is Revenge of the Nerds and that’s saying something.
We’ve got Tom Hanks in one of his first and most embarrassing rolls to date, a Hindu street pimp, a guy disguising his foot long penis as a hot dog, hookers, a hooker band that looks like the B52’s minus that little creep with the mustache, a suicidal drug addict named Pecker Head, full frontal nudity, Mike the magical, sexual mule who later takes a bunch of pills and cocaine and dies (I hope that’s not a plot spoiler) and, and, and…. Whew! I’m out of breath.
On of my most prized possessions is a copy of the soundtrack for this movie on vinyl. I got it off some burn-out in Kensington Market for $2! Someone once told me that they enjoyed listening to me talk about Bachelor Party more then when they actually saw the film. That’s how much I love this film. Maybe I can get a job describing BP to the blind because that would be the worst part about being blind… not being able to see Bachelor Party.

The Inaugural Post.

So here it is. Tada!
Let the curtain rise on The Creep Show...
Weeeelcooommme. Cooome look at the dead body !
Hey everyone. I’m Johnny (takes a little bow).
Welcome friends I know and weirdos that I don’t know. I’m not sure why the later is here, maybe everything’s a bit raw from 7 straight hours of masturbating to internet porn and you’re now forced to look at something different or maybe you just heard good things about me and decided to check out The Creep Show for yourself. Either way, glad to have you aboard. Ahoy! I really wish I could swing a bottle of the Wine Rack’s best against the monitor to send this thing off right but that would kind of be a waste of a monitor and a good magnum of champale.
Maybe I’m being a bit too grandiose in my thinking as I don’t really expect anyone to read this. For now it is what it is… a dumping ground for my brain.