Thursday, December 31, 2009
Walking home this afternoon, Dec 31-09, I saw a postal worker fighting with a man. I removed my earphones and heard the postal worker say:
"You fucking fruit! You fucking queen!"
To which the man responded: "You fucking drunk!"
The postal worker then spit on the man, which is considered an assault in Ontario. The postal worker then said "You fucking fudge packer!" and got into his mail truck.
The man said "I'll have your job for this!"
The postal worker was wearing his postal uniform and driving a Canada Post truck, license plate number 548 1NH. This happened at 1:22 pm today just west of the corner of Church and Alexander Streets in the heart of Toronto's gay village.
This was overheard by me and several small children walking by. Please contact me if you require any more details.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Here's a view from the back:
Notice the "printed in Canada" stamp on the back of the bag. So someone at the border with Canada Customs thought the GQ cover was fine, should be seen everywhere by small children, and rushed it through. Meanwhile the Playgirl cover was so scandalous a special Canadian-only mylar bag had to be added.
And the back:
So the front cover with it's two censor lines obscuring everything but the title was covering men's... faces. Faces.
I'd like to thank Canada Customs for re-inforcing the sterotype and confirming that in Canada, a man's face is more obscene than a women's breasts.
Happy holidays to everyone who isn't a censor.
Friday, December 18, 2009
Thursday, December 10, 2009
The film documents 20 years of struggles the Vancouver bookstore Little Sister's has had with Canada Customs.
When the store first opened, many books were held or banned outright. The issue is that these books had violated no law, no court in the country had ruled them obscene. A group of individuals, mostly heterosexual men with no training in the arts or literature, had ruled them obscene.
In the early 1980's the film mentions there were no widespread national news magazines for gay people and one magazine that featured photos of nude men was confiscated at the border. And by confiscated, I mean burned. This magazine was one of the first to talk about what would become HIV and AIDS and the film details this man calling his friend in the United States and asking him to read to him over the phone the article "The 10 safe ways to have sex". This article had been banned by customs for having obscene sexual content.
One wonders how many men were denied education on safe sex and subsequently died because of the will of a group of individuals to protect our moral fibre. I read this and wonder how people weren't marching down the streets yelling "Shame!" And yet, even today, try to organize a rally to show why banned pornographic magazines are important to Canadian society and you can imagine what these people were up against in 1983.
In the film a bookstore in Vancouver orders the same books as Little Sister's from the same seller, shipped by the same method. Both shipments are stopped for review at the border. The heterosexual bookstore gets it's books a few days later, the shipment destined for Little Sister's is banned and destroyed.
Little Sister's originally tried to take Customs to court for violating their rights under the Charter of Rights and freedoms. Years would pass as the court date approached, and Little Sister's would ready their witnesses, including Jane Rule and Pierre Burton. A week before the trial, the government would say that a mistake had been made. That upon further review, the item mentioned in the law suit was now acceptable to be imported into Canada, that they were sorry for the misunderstanding. The hundreds of thousands of dollars in legal fees Little Sister's had spent to that point were gone, they were now starting from scratch, and now had permission to import a magazine that had been printed 5 or 6 years before. Their own shipment of the magazine had long ago been burned.
So they reversed tracts and sued Customs for discrimination. In what is described as a partial victory, the Supreme Court of Canada ruled that Customs had discriminated against Little Sisters and awarded them money. The next decision was that the system which led to this discrimination was still a valid one and would continue.
After Little Sister's, the small independent gay bookstore had spent more than $250,000 on their legal defense, one ray of hope came out of the case. As of 2001, it is now the responsibility of customs to prove the book is obscene, not the bookseller to prove it is not.
This still does not stop customs from their usual practice of opening boxes of books with boxcutters, damaging the covers. Throwing these books into a pile, then a plastic bag, and calling the bookseller to say they have to pick up their material at the border itself, in its now unsellable condition.
In May of 1993 Canada Customs opens domestic mail addressed to Little Sister's, mailed from Penguin Canada in Newmarket, Ont.
Two democratic countries in the world banned Salmon Rushdie's book "The Satanic Verses" in 1989. One was Iran, the other was Canada.
A history of censorship in Canada here.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
- Lady Gaga, love the new album
- Asher Roth, I like white rappers that are good. There's like three.
- The Hidden Cameras, saw their amazing show on Saturday at the Opera House.
- Glee cast songs. Love this show.
- "Science Fiction/Double Feature" from Rocky Horror. This is the best song on the soundtrack.
Every year at the end of the year, I look at my statment of earnings and say "where the Hell did all that go???"
Every year before my cruise I start trying like mad to lose weight.
Every year on my birthday I wonder how the Hell I got this old and where my life is going.
I'm pleased to say this year things are better in most respects.
The negative one, the weight issue, I plan to get around by using a series of David Copperfield like illusions and a pocket full of firecrackers that I can throw to distract people when I take off my shirt.
But as far as being old, I have a new 27 year old hottie stopping by my place and that's never a bad thing.
As far as money, this year I bought a house, bought all new furniture, paid off two credit card debts I have had for 10 years, and paid off half of my one remaining card. Oh and paid for a 10 day vacation in Miami in January. I would say that's all pretty good.
So while I go work on my illusion skills, things are pretty alright.
Sunday, December 6, 2009
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Recently Xtra, Toronto's gay newspaper, ran the following cover:
People wrote in, and I quote:
- "what message are you sending to the next generation of gays?"
- "Putting porn stars on the cover... makes all homosexuals look one-dimensional"
- "No wonder heterosexuals look at our community in disgust"
- etc, etc.
So I hate this, and I wrote in too:
"I find it incredible that people write to you with comments like "No wonder heterosexuals look at our community with disgust" or "Putting porn stars on the cover [of Xtra]... makes all homosexuals one-dimensional."
Do these people actually read their comments before submitting? Can the cover of one issue of one newspaper make "ALL homosexuals" do anything? Which heterosexuals look at our community with disgust? I don't know any.
I would encourage these letter writers to be themselves, and to stop reverting back to 1960's tactics of "If we all act just like them, maybe they'll like us."
Speaking on behalf of myself, not "all homosexuals" as others proclaim to, I enjoyed the cover. Thanks."
Another issue that was raised is the old "won't anyone think of the children" excuse. Who are these children? I hate hypothetical children.
I remember my mom complaining about Sex and the City being on at noon on City-TV, a time when children could be watching. I asked how she knew the show was on and she said she watched it every day. So if a show meant for adults is being watched by adults at a time when kids are in school, which exact children are being harmed? Also this is a heavily censored version with nudity and swearing taken out.
If adults watching adult shows only problem is hypothetical "children" and hypothetical "bad parents", there needs to be a reality check. Give me names of these children, prove they exist, and we'll talk then.
I am writing to express my dissatisfaction with Canada's border policy.
The recent detainment of the PG rated film Patrick 1.5 at the border, causing possibly thousands of dollars in damages to local arts in Ottawa, is the most recent example of a long history of anti-gay censorship at the Canadian border.
I have grown up with many examples of this type of prejudice from the Canadian government and there comes a point where you're almost used to it, where you expect it. This incident woke me up. I am here to say that in 2009, this discrimination will not stand.
The entire system needs to be changed. I subscribe to the Border Services list of admissible titles by email. This list is published quarterly and shows what titles were reviewed at the border and what is admissible and what is not. The decision to review these films is made by one individual and the people who make the decision to ban the items are not held accountable for their actions. No reason is ever given for not allowing the items into Canada, they simply don't arrive.
I wrote to Border Services to obtain a copy of the list of items not allowed into Canada, it is not my intention to break the law by attempting to import a banned film. I was told that this list is not made available to the public. I asked for back copies of the quarterly report of admissible items, I was told this information too is not made available to the public.
By giving an individual the power to censor and then not holding them remotely accountable, the Canadian govenment is doing a disservice to the Canadian people and allowing anti-gay discrimination to continue. I encourage you, as my member of parliament, to review these policies.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Anyway, so last night I went to Wal-Mart to buy jeans. This was after spending 3 hours in the Eaton Centre looking at jeans that all cost over $80 and don't come in my size. I remember there was a time when I would just pick the colour in my size and walk out the door. Those days are gone.
I decided to leave the jeans shopping to last as I hate it. Inevitably some 20 year old stick man will come up to me as I'm frantically looking for my size, and wondering if they even carry my size. What do fat people do? Throw on the drapes and be done with it? Anyway, this stick will say "Can I help you find your size?" and if I have to say the actual number I will burst into flames so that isn't happening. Also if he has to then say to me "Sorry, sir, we don't carry sizes that big" I will immediately drop dead of embarrassment so my options here are limited. I can either throw a bunch of pants in his face and run like the wind, or do what I usually do and say "No thanks, I'm fine!" as I rummage for my size like my mother at a yard sale.
So as I walked into Wal-Mart, they had a huge poster on the door, "Pies now available at McDonalds in 'Smores flavour!" so I said "Out of the way, bitches!" and hightailed it over. They were alright.
Onto my shopping. Generic Christmas music is playing over the intercom, the kind they play in Hell where every song sounds the same and has annoying children laughing. After looking around for a few items, none of which were in stock of course, I headed over to the flashlight section. My step-father wants a crank flashlight for Christmas. So they had two, one for $25 which is crazy, and another for $12. The problem is, the $12 one looked good but it had a screwdriver with attachments built in. The further problem is the light shines straight ahead but the screwdriver parts are on the side. So how can you see them in the dark? And the other problem is, how many times in your life have you done carpentry in the dark?
So I made my way over to the jeans section. My eye was caught by the sign that said "Now $10!" so I looked at those jeans. Now this store has maybe 8 brands of jeans and each jean comes in 10 or 12 styles. Maybe it's just me but I don't know the difference between boot cut and straight cut off the top of my head. How do they come up with these names?
I picked up about five pairs of jeans that weren't red or purple and headed over to the fitting room. This Wal-Mart is the closest to downtown Toronto (still 30 minutes out of my way though) and is the worst Wal-Mart on planet earth. It's small and dirty and they never have anything in stock as they don't have any room. Terrible.
So I go into the fitting room and the first thing I notice is it's the size of a postage stamp. The second thing I notice is the body odour of the person who was in there before me. I hate BO. I ducked my head out and saw they had two other change rooms, both locked, and no salesperson around for miles. Great.
I hold my breath and while trying not to pass out, attempt to put on the first pair of jeans. The confines are so tight that when I bend over to take off my shoes I nearly knock the walls down. Plus the thing is so flimsy as I steady myself with one hand against the wall, you hear a "SLAM!" as the entire change room nearly falls over. I picture armed security entering thinking I'm vandalizing the place or something.
So the first pair I tried on were the cheapest as I figured I'd start at the bottom of the price line and work my way up. If the $10 jeans work, why pay more?
The first thing I notice in these jeans is the fly. On a standard pair of jeans the fly is about 4 inches long. On these jeans, the fly is about 10 or 11 inches long. When I put them on the crotch ends just below the knee. Also they made the seat extra wide, so the ass of these jeans has more material than my winter jacket. I could shove a litter of kittens in there with my butt and there's still be loads of room.
I can't wear jeans with a crotch below my knees.
I continue trying on jeans and all of these have the same problem. Apparently poor people are meant to look stupid.
I leave the change room, say hi to the salesperson yelling into the phone that her man is no good, and go get some mid-priced jeans. Again, no idea what kind to get. "Relaxed fit"? "Carpenter"? "Straight leg"? Argh.
I come back and try on these six pairs and either the zipper is still too long or the pants are too baggy. One of them has a distressed hole in the leg and I see something white shining through the hole. I figured they had put a piece of white fabric in behind the hole. That white thing was my leg! I can't wear a pair of jeans to work with a one inch spot of skin showing through in the crotch area. One pair was kind of okay but they were "725" brand, which is Wal-Mart’s store brand. A shirt in 725 is okay as you can hide the tags but jeans? I can't go on my cruise with a big sign reading "Wal-Mart" on my ass. I may want to look cheap, but not in that way.
At this point, I've spent about 40 minutes wrangling into 12 pairs of jeans in a closet and I have nothing to show for it. I run out and grab the most expensive jeans in the place. At this point I would pay $50 just to be able to go home.
I try on another eight pairs and find three maybes. They're like $40 each so I can't buy all three so I try to remember which pairs I liked best. I can't remember, I have to try them all on again. I pick two and run away, interrupting the salesgirl's phone call long enough to promise to never return.
When I get to the cash, the girl rings them in and says "One of them is 50% off - did you want to go back and get another pair?" I said "These are both the same brand. There is no tags on the jeans indicating they are on sale. There is no signs on the floor saying they're on sale. I have touched every single pair of jeans in my size in this entire store and I have no idea where I got them from. So no, I'm good thanks."
I pay and run for my life.
I will never buy jeans again, please bury me the one of the pairs I bought yesterday, I will be wearing them for the rest of my life.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Had a nap and then had to run around getting ready. I went to Sarah's hotel to pick her up and put on my makeup to find she had lost her eyeliner, or "guyliner" as we had been calling it so there was none of that and no time to go get more.
I put on the purple eyeshadow to go with my top and it looked really good, I was surprised. Then I thought about making cats claws out the side, then I did the under eye and I didn't look good anymore, more like a $2 whore. D'oh. I tried to wash it off, it didn't come off, and we had to go!
The line at the ACC was long and we didn't really know where to go. We found the line just after 6. My friends didn't bring a coat and the 1.5 hour wait was quite cold. While I was waiting in line my cousin Sarah came over to me to say hello. She said "It's Sarah!" and I thought, Sarah who? She had dyed her hair dark and look much more like a woman then the teenager I remembered. She looked really good, it was great to see her.
The tickets said doors 6:30, show at 7:30. So at 7:45 they let us in!
We made our way to the floor and had a really amazing spot in front of the stage. The opening act one came on and they were crap. Another 20 minute wait and Kid Cudi came on, whoever he is. When you come out to perform your concert wearing a white t-shirt and a baseball cap, that's not a good sign.
I saw one song and had enough. Half the crowd was gay men, I don't think any of them were into it either. I sat down for a while, there was no chairs on the floor, standing room only, until security shone a flashlight into my face to make sure I was okay, then I had to stand.
After this crappy opening act we had another 30 minutes to kill while they played Michael Jackson's greatest hits. The crowd and I were really getting into dancing to MJ.
Sarah's friend said we would have a better view of the stage if we moved to the back, so we did and it turns out they had a better view as they were too short to see from the front of the stage. My view, on the other hand, was far worse and further away. The rationale was also that we would have more room there and it wouldn't be so hot. Of course, as soon as GAGA came out we were surrounded by people and the temperature went up 100 degrees.
We had some time to kill, so while dancing to Michael Jackson, these two drunk girls came up to me and one asked to kiss me on the cheek, which was fine. She complemented my outfit, apparently it was a big hit. Sarah and her friend seemed to done down their outfits more than we had originally planned.
Anyway, I explained how we had a lack of eyeliner. The heavy drunk girl said she had some eye shadow and proceeded to apply more purple, and some yellow. I had no mirror so it was all good.
We were standing beside some guys and this fellow with a mustache was quite hot, he reminded me of a young red-haired Rhett Butler. I thought he was the straight one of their bunch, he seemed to be there with his blond girlfriend. After the show Sarah's friend Ashely said he was the biggest gay in the place, that he was singing along and knew all the words to all the songs. Dammit! I should`ve said something!
So finally just after 10 the show started. I don`t get why there`s always opening acts. When I go to author readings at Harbourfront, you always have to sit through 2 hours of readings by people you`ve never heard of to get to yours. What is this? I hate that.
The show was amazing. So many costume changes. Such fashion, such imagination.
The encore, when she sang the opening notes of "Bad Romance" it was like I had experienced an electric shock. It woke me up, made me alive, I danced like I have never danced before. No inhibitions, total freedom and joy. I loved it.
This is the before shot as we were leaving:
The opening act, hands on hips "Clap, bitches!"
Kid somebody making a fashion statement "I just woke up and put this on"
Lady Gaga in the dark forest for the song "Monster"
Striking a Madonna like pose.
After the show. All of us can't hear anything. We spent 30 minutes saying "WHAT?!?!"
This one is my favourite.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
"It's no good running a pig farm badly for 30 years while saying, 'Really, I was meant to be a ballet dancer.' By then, pigs will be your style".
"Never keep up with the Joneses. Drag them down to your level".
"I recommend limiting one's involvement in other people's lives to a pleasantly scant minimum"
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
I am in love with Lady Gaga. She is the new Jesus. I am going to her show in 2 weeks and I need it to be today. This video for "Bad Romance" is the best video I've ever seen. Who cares if she can't see, she looks amazing. Seeing is over rated.
For the concert I have a bright purple shirt and a matching purple striped tie. I also have a purple tiara to wear but I'm trying to find a ridiculous hat instead. We'll see. I'll be posting photos. My co-worker Sarah is wearing green pants, a white tank and a yellow faux fur skull cap with green makeup. We'll be awesome.
I haven't been posting lately as I have an infection of the esophagus and my day involves not eating until I get home, then eating as I'm starving and lying down in pain for the rest of the night unable to move. I haven't eaten yet so I'm still upright for now.
I see a lot of people buying poppies for Remembrance Day. Back when the first World War and the second World War started there were mass protests in the street, people saying that we shouldn't send our children to fight for a country we no longer live in. People objecting to taking the poor and the underskilled and using them as the front line of defense like they were targets. I would have been one of those people. I marched down the streets in February when the US threatened to invade Iraq. I don't believe in war. As such, I will never wear a poppy.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
On Oct 25, 1,000 people or more marched silently from Church and Wellesley Sts to the spot where, on Oct 18, Chris Skinner was horribly murdered.
It was a beautiful and elegant celebration of his life and protest of the ghastly way he died. In the mainstream press, accounts of the on-going investigation into his murder now focus on the idea, put forward by Toronto police early on, that the attack may have been precipitated after Skinner “intentionally or unintentionally” came in contact with the SUV that ran him down seconds later. (See story page seven and go to Xtra.ca for more details and to see the video for yourself).
Skinner hit the SUV immediately prior to the attack, is the implication whispered by police and shouted by the mainstream press, he was therefore beaten to the ground and crushed to death in retaliation. He at least partly brought it on himself. If he hadn’t hit the SUV, he might not be dead. What nonsense.
Police say the final piece of CCTV video they released documents the near miss between Skinner and the SUV. They say they have an eyewitness whose story adds credibility to that scenario. But although there’s not too much to see in the video, I’ve watched it again and again and I can’t see anything to suggest Skinner came in contact with or dodged the SUV.
In the video he doesn’t flinch or flail. His head doesn’t spin around in the direction of the departing SUV. He certainly doesn’t take off in retreat or pursuit. When, after a long pause, he walks slowly out of frame, he clearly has his head down, engrossed by his cellular device or merely his own feet, not up glowering at the backside of the SUV about to grind him under its wheels.
Let’s be clear: Police seem to be taking this investigation seriously and, with the obvious exception of there being at press time no arrest, are handling it well. At press conferences lead investigator det Stacey Gallant seems genuinely angry that someone deliberately chose to run Skinner down.
Gallant’s suggestion that there may be a traffic dispute element to the motive in this crime may be calculated to keep people from jumping to erroneous and early conclusions, but it doesn’t necessarily imply that homophobia wasn’t a factor in the attack, nor does Gallant’s suggestion that there is no evidence that Skinner was targeted only because he was gay.
All discussion of motive in this case is speculation at this stage. Assigning motive requires insight into the heart and mind of the bastard driving the SUV that ran Skinner down, and so far we don’t even know who he is.
But since we’re all speculating, I have another theory.
I didn’t know Skinner but by all accounts he looked gay, acted gay and sounded gay. He was fey. It’s possible the attack against him unfolded without a single homophobic epithet being flung. But even in that case it’s possible, even likely, that Skinner’s attackers decided to kill him, or precluded mercy, after one look at him and just a few words from his lips.
Had he spoken with the clipped cadence of a professional hockey player, had he been wearing a Leafs jersey or a baseball hat that night, would the outcome have been different?
I don’t know the answer to that question any more than I know whether they called him a faggot before they killed him.
What I do know is that Skinner, a gay man, was horribly murdered in his own city just blocks from home. His is yet another in a very long list of stories about gay and lesbian people violently killed or injured under mysterious circumstances.
That alone is more than enough to raise a crowd to the corner of Church and Wellesley.
Monday, October 26, 2009
More on the situation here.
Click the link, the reporting is excellent.
It looks like he was trying to get a taxi, these guys drove by and yelled "FAG!" like idiots do. They stopped at a red light, the guys got out, beat him up and ran him over.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
David Dewees had been a popular high-school teacher at Jarvis Collegiate Institute near Toronto’s Church and Wellesley neighbourhood since 2003. In the summers he worked as a counsellor at Ontario Pioneer Camp near Port Sydney.
Clearly he liked working with young people and until recently had a clean record as an educator and camp counsellor.
Police allege that he met two young guys at camp, 15 and 16. He supposedly kept in touch with the youngsters over the net until police say he had “inappropriate” online contact with them.
He was charged on Oct 1 with two counts of invitation to sexual touching and two counts of luring. That same day the Toronto Star erroneously reported that he had been charged with sexual assault against two 13-year-olds. In fact there’s no evidence or accusation that Dewees assaulted anyone. The Star somehow jumped to that conclusion.
Dewees was arraigned and released on $25,000 bail on Oct 2. On Oct 3 he calmly lay on the subway tracks at High Park station where he was killed by a train. He killed himself.
This story is highly engaging. There is conflict, shocking surprise, sexual scandal and a bloody end. It’s stranger than fiction, starts innocently and ends tragically. There are mysteries that may never be solved. It’s an easy hit. Don’t let anyone in media, no matter how seriously they purport to take journalistic integrity, tell you different.
Media clearly have a responsibility to tell stories like Dewees’ but the other edge of the sword is that media and its consumers — people — latch onto potentially sensational elements regardless of what is right or true. It is precisely the phenomenon that makes us gawk at car accidents.
Imagination plays a much larger role in stories like Dewees’ than do the scant available facts.
With only the knowledge that a teacher and camp counsellor was facing sex charges, people imagined what Dewees must of have done. They imagined what was going through his mind as he befriended these young guys. They filled in blanks with their own fictions, fictions written in the ink of personal experience, desire and fear.
Virtually everyone jumped to the conclusions that Dewees killed himself out of guilt: guilt for getting too close to his charges, guilt for getting caught, guilt for embarrassing his family and guilt for being exposed as having same-sex attractions (Dewees was not, by accounts reported to Xtra, openly gay).
At 15 I could tell when older men and women were hitting on me or otherwise interested in my sexuality. I never had any trouble ending conversations I didn’t want to have or pushing away suitors I didn’t want to know. I suspect the two young guys at the centre of the accusations against Dewees are similarly astute and will survive undamaged by whatever messages Dewees sent them online. Obviously these young guys bear no blame for Dewees’ death but this must be an extremely difficult situation for them.
One reality is that we simply don’t, and likely never will, know the whole truth. And we likely won’t know how the two young guys in this story feel about Dewees’ suicide.
Another reality is that we live in a society — we have created a society — in which Dewees, who was accused only of “inappropriate” web chatter with a couple of teenagers, was subjected to a media storm that painted him as a sexual pervert and child predator. As the story unfolded publicly, with all its fiction, innuendo and assumption, he chose to kill himself.
That is at least as telling a comment on how we as a nation approach human sexuality as it is on whatever choices Dewees made in his short life.
To give some context, this photo below is of Taylor Lautner from the new Twilight movie. In fact he's on the cover of the new People magazine where they talk about what a "hottie" he is and how "buff". He's 17, one year older than the 16 year old boy mentioned in this story.
More on the story.
I can't comment on the Toronto Star article without throwing my computer through the window.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
I went with my dad, his partner Linda, my co-worker Sarah and her friend Ashley.
Here's Ashley with some severed heads:
And Sarah with some oragami:
The best part of the night was probably "Le Grand Peep Show" in the stables of Casa Loma. All night long I kept repeating the MC's call "Usually, $30 per peep!"
The idea is you peep in the holes and the people stare back at you. Sarah was creeped out by the people staring at her but I spent the time trying to flirt with the guy using only my eyeball. For some reason I thought it was working....
Here's the virgin Mary hatching an egg:
Sarah and I infront of some art:
Then we went over to Liberty Village and had Fire and Sausages. The sausage was REALLY good but the hot chocolate, I just got the bottom of my dad's cup and it was really bitter and mine had a huge chunk of cocao in it which was not appealing.
There was a chalk wall:
Which I later leaned against and got my jacket and bag dirty.
Then off to see 2 cranes dancing for 15 minutes to music.
And saw the 4 letter word machine at city hall:
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Sunday, April 26, 2009– m4w – 24
You wore an awesome color changing dress to the BBQ on Skillman Ave in Williamsburg, but someone spilled wine on it.You left too quickly...I'd like to see you again.
Saturday, September 5, 2009- m4m - 29 (astoria)
we were both swimming around 5-6 in astoria pool. we ended up walking the same direction in the park for a while but didn't talk. i wish i had said hi...so i figured i would on here.worth a shot.
Monday, September 28, 2009
I've included the dates I'm going if anyone wants to come with.