House of Pain

It’s been two years since I returned from my “working” holiday visa in Toronto. It’s only recently that I realised how silly the place I lived for the majority of the year was. So, come with me on a trip down memory lane, accompanied by stupid pictures I took during my time there. Look, a green yet brown banana. Far outttttttt.

I spent the first two months in Toronto in hostels, but after getting a job and deciding I didn’t really want to carry on getting changed under my sheets or getting woken up by somebody rocking back and forth with a towel over their head in the middle of the room at 3am (THIS HAPPENED), I moved into a room in a house. I answered a Craigslist ad detailing a friendly house for a half decent price and went to have a look at it. The friendly Colombian landlord showed me round and despite not being too impressed by either the house itself or the fact it could take as long as an hour to get downtown, I took it anyway as I couldn’t afford to be picky/couldn’t be bothered looking anywhere else.  Mainly the second one.

A fairly big, very woody, typical North American home, 1959 Dufferin Street was near Toronto’s slight shabby Portugese area, with not a Nando’s in sight to redeem it. Two people lived in the basement and had their own kitchen, as well as a washer and dryer that everyone in the house had to use, which was in a room with about 20 years worth of junk in it. The ground floor had a large living/dining/kitchen area with a screen and a projector and one bedroom by the front door. The kitchen had rat poison dishes everywhere, filled with varying amounts of pink granules depending on when the mice were peckish. Upstairs, there was three or four bedrooms and a bathroom, with mine looking out into the “backyard” with it’s scary-eyed raccoons. When I first arrived I put my bag in this room, but was told by the landlord that he told some Russian guy that he’d probably think it was his room. I’ve reimagined the moment I met this guy as if I had the mentality of a commie-fearing American from the fifties to make it more interesting.

He braced himself for a brawl. World War 3. His parents had grown up in theCold War era and had presumably had it hammered into them that all Russians are beasts. Scum. A constant threat to everything you and your Daddy fought for, freedom. And now, one of that generation’s spawn was coming for his space, his freedom. Invading his room and turning it yet another satellite state for Mother Russia. Bringing down the iron curtain on his windows. He wondered what he should use to defend himself. A chair? A table? Too obvious. Perhaps poetic justice. A bottle of vodka or.. a Kalashnikov? No, he didn’t drink and no access to a gun, at best he’d seen a cheap air rifle in Walmart. Maybe just the fist of Uncle Sam, the same one Rocky landed on Ivan Drago‘s face to knock that Commie fuck back to Moscow?! Before he could decide, Andrei popped his head round the door, apologised and moved his bag into the room down the corridor. “He wasn’t a proper Commie anyway,” he decided, “he was wearing glasses”. “Wait”, you’re thinking “Trotsky wore glasses”, but he didn’t know that, so boo to you mate, I’m the narrator.

I spent a lot of time in my room, despite the fact that it was always too hot or too cold. I had a crappy TV which I watched TRULY crappy Canadian TV on occasionally,  I also remember blearily watching England limp out of the World Cup to Germany and then going back to sleep depressed (time difference eh). I could just about cope with the freezing Canadian winter, but the heatwave that struck Toronto whilst I was there made staying in the room almost unbearable. I couldn’t open the window and I only had a crappy fan to cool me down; then there was a power cut where I genuinely nearly died. Before it got really hot I also got my own pet mouse. A fast moving dirty little bastard, I could never get anywhere near it and it could get under the doors and to freedom due to being so small. One of it’s mates must have died as well because the room stunk of rotting eggs for a longer than needed period. The room also looked out onto our Rasta neighbours, who seemed to have parties where they smoked weed, played reggae really loud through massive speakers with mental bass in their cars and let their kids run around at like 3pm on a Wednesday.

My housemates were members of a never ending international roundabout. I’m not sure how many different people lived there during the nine months I was there, but it must have been over 20 moving in and out of about eight rooms. There was a theme of French speaking people, including a small guy who was constantly pissed off and after a night out got genuinely angry at me because I temporarily worked at a cinema.  At one point, an American brother and sister moved in.. to the same room. She was apparently a 17-year old model and he was “just looking after her as she tried to make it big”. Eeesh. There was also quite a few Asian students, an Irish bloke who I hilariously watched the France-Ireland World Cup qualifying playoff with (as well as the angry French guy) when Henry handled the ball and a extremely Artic-looking Canadian guy, as well as others who I barely saw. The only other Canadian guy who lived there deserves a few paragraphs to himself, so avert your eyes down a line please.

Built like a brick shit house, this bloke was a half-Italian, heavy-metal loving labourer, who had resorted to living in a shabby hotel of a house due to losing his job. He told me he was working in the wilds when he got drunk at a bar and was pulled over by the police as he drove out, accusing the locals of dobbing him in because he had long hair at the time (he now wore a tea cosy on his bald head) and because had darker skin then them moose-n-lumber rednecks. He had made a shitload from his job and had a wife and a kid, but told me that he had tragically lost it all by not being able to drive for work after losing his license, then losing his wife (never explained why) and losing custody of his kid. So here he was, a volatile giant of a man, pissed off at the hand that life had suddenly thrust upon him.

Because I worked late hours at the cinema, I tended to come in late most nights, but this guy was always up on the house PC, a consistent fixture of the living room. Generally a bit smashed on jugs of red wine and half eating his (proper nice) Italian food which he always offered me, he was always up for telling me how the system had failed him and us all. I appreciated his food when I was essentially living on discounted Burger King from work and Pop Tarts, but I could never get a word in when speaking to him as he had all the conspiracies and Illuminati shit ready to trot out at every opportunity. I believe we live in an unfair world and that things are definitely wrong, but this guy apparently knew it all, despite the fact that, to my knowledge, he never left the house. I heard from my Irish housemate that this bloke had nearly knocked out a bloke in the garden after he mistakenly touched his lawnmower at a party or something, but it took until the end of my tenure at Dufferin Street that I witnessed his nutter status for real. Again, I’ve taken the liberty of describing this event in a dramatic style because I’m great. IT’S ALL TRUE!

It was time for the Frenchman to leave, to return to his homeland after unsuccessfully converting the rest of Canada into speaking French (probably). He gathered up his Gallic friends for a party in his temporary castle, but would kindly share the moment with the rest of his subjects and other dignitaries. Merry times were had, the booze was flowing, the music was loud. But one Italian party Grinch locked himself inside his keep, determined not to partake in the festivities. As the time ticked away, drink flowed longer, the music gained louder and the party Grinch gained angrier. But there was no appearance from him, just the sound of his music growing and the odd frustrated bang on the wall. 

It all reached a head as the drunken Frenchman put “I’m on a Boat” on at full blast. The party Grinch stormed out of his room and made straight for the Frenchman,  grabbing him by the throat and pinning him against the wall, despite being at least a foot taller than him. He was no fan of parody, or boats motherfucker! The atmosphere dropped like a stone, the women burst into tears, the Frenchmen panicked and shouted. Eventually the Italian softened his grip, but his anger did not wain. He ranted and raved at the departing Frenchman, telling him he was not the ruler of the house and he was taking liberties that weren’t his to take. He smashed up a table, slammed a door. It took him an age to calm down, but the damage was already done. The rest of the house lived in fear of his rage until the end of days.

A couple of months after this ridiculous incident and when everything had pretty much blown over, this bloke put his big Italian foot in it again. After seemingly befriending a Japanese student who lived downstairs, one night things again turned a bit ugly. He baked a cake which she presumed was for her and her mate, but it turned out he was expecting them to share it. When he found out she’d taken his precious cake all for herself, he hit the roof and apparently threatened her. This led to the landlord stepping in, he locked the door to the basement where she lived so this nasty man couldn’t threaten over a cake anymore and served him with an eviction notice. Annoyingly, that meant that everyone had to use the outside entrance to put some shitting socks in the wash. Apparently he’d only got to live in the house in the first place because he was fixing it up for the landlord, but now the landlord had enough of him breaking up this Benetton advert of a house. He fought back with legal proceedings, but I never found out if he got kicked out or if they made peace, I’d left Canada before it reached it’s climax. Ridiculous.

So that was the house. A strange, wonderful time. Maybe you don’t find any of that interesting or out of the ordinary and believe I must live a pretty dull life now? Well, let me tell you that this was a time that also included other ridiculous events like witnessing the G20 riots, working with a guy who got sacked for being a paedophile, an old man telling me I was a fascist for wearing camo shorts in the streets, a bloke coming onto me on the subway by grabbing his balls and pouting, running through university dorms in my boxers and ketchup smeared all over my torso, throwing up beans and toast also on the subway on new years eve, walking out of a U2 gig before they even started and witnessing a tramp defecating on a church. But I can’t be arsed going into them, read my blog more or ask me about it in real life. I might tell you, but I might be too tired, sorry. Bye.

TERKERJAWB in TO

"Can I take this popcorn into the cinema?"


Oh, hello there again. Another month goes by, and another month is encapsulated into a short blog post. Well, that's what happens when... typing is a bit of an effort because you have a tiny keyboard?! Scrap that. On with the show.

So, when I last wrote sum werds on dis payge, I had just secured a job at the literal Theatre of Dreams, although not so much Dreams, just a Theatre. And spelt Theater, because apparently it's considered trendy to spell things wrong in North America. And for the past month, a great deal of my time has been spent inside it, selling drinks, popcorn, candy and nachos for RIDICULOUS prices for RIDICULOUSLY poor wages. But in spite of that, the rewards have been good. Plenty of nice colleagues, the bonuses such as; gift vouchers, free films (although I've seen more shite films than good - 2012 and The Men Who Stare at Goats were absolutely diabolical Jeff), the discounted food and free drinks and tea(!!) and finally having (some) money coming in, which has made me solvent in Canada at last. And apparently I will FINALLY graduate from being a popcorn bitch to getting to sweep cinemas and tearing up tickets soon, which almost seems a bigger achievement than graduating with a journalism degree. Sort of.

I have been pretty poor this month though, since the pay is obviously rubbish and shifts vary from plentiful to meagre, but I can afford rent (which I will come to), bargain food, the odd night out, the odd big big purchase and a metropass (godly).
I think the job will work financially for the time being, although with Christmas and some extra jobs coming up (I get to be a hotdog bitch for an NFL game in a couple of weeks, exciting), I should be comfortable like it was bloody September the 3rd all over again. However, I might have to scale down my ambitious plans to travel extensively next year and face the harsh reality that I'll be working somewhere else in this bloody big country at some point. Although...although.. I desperately want to get into bartending or serving or something, because that's where the money is. Tipping is ridiculous here, they tip on everything from coat checking to hairdressing, so I'm trying to crack that market. Failing that, get a journalism job, but.... that'd feel too much like a career.. and that wasn't really the point coming here.

But yes, it appears I am once again living the student lifestyle. Back to noodles, cereal bars and soup, sleeping in until silly times on days off and watching endless amounts of South Park. Only now I have the added bonus of 50 percent off at fast food outlets at work, meaning I get things like Whopper meals for three dollars, which for better or for worse, seem to keep me alive, but ironically, will probably kill me. I now also have more travelling than I did at uni, thanks to the location of my house, but the almighty metropass keeps me in business. Compared to travelling on the London Underground, the TTC (Toronto Transit..Cocks?) seems pretty reasonable to me; $2.75 for ANY journey in one direction, even if you took the subway, streetcar AND the bus, and doesn't give a shit about zoning - even then, people are always complaining about it. True, the system isn't a patch on Lundun's, but there's little complaints from me with this pass though, when you pay $100 a month and then just wave it at some TTC bloke's face and they let you on whatever and go wherever. Magic.

Now the reason I get so much use out of the pass is because of the said location of my house. At the backend of October, I was panicking a bit about finding somewhere to live with the deadline for hostel chucking out creeping up like a really nasty man. I looked around a few places, but finally settled on a quite studenty looking place on Dufferin Street, about 30 minutes from downtown. The rent is reasonable, there's laundry downstairs, the bus outside comes every 5 minutes, my bedroom has a big window and a tv (Canadian TV is still gash though) and there's constantly people around, usually ogling a big projector downstairs, which is a definite bonus. My housemates are cool and massively diverse (Canadian, Irish, French, Russian), a bit like the area itself, which seems to be a poorer version of Little Italy, which is full of fancy shops and shit, whereas my hood is mainly populated with dollar stores, but it's pretty quiet and I've yet to see any shots fired at buses (which has happened in this area before. No, really. And no, this isn't the ghetto at all, so don't...). I could end up moving if I get sick of the journey to work or simply not being close enough to downtown (it sometimes takes one hour getting to work if the bus and two subways decide to be shits) but I kind of like being away from the hassle and the hobos and the looming skyscrapers, so this will do for now thanks.

So yes, it appears I am finally settled in Toronto, with a house and a job and an endless supply of cheap food - I can't give No Frills and (suprisingly) Walmart, enough credit. 79 cent tuna?! Yer 'avin a laugh! And Walmart do bloody George clothes, my mum's choice of christmas present socks and underwear for me since I was five! Just like home!

With being a bit skinter, the fun has taken a bit of a hit recently, but I've still managed to have a right old good time - been oot and aboot a few times - Halloween was a particular highlight where budget zombie costume produced the goods in more ways than one, as was a British poker night where I came third somehow (and then afterwards eating nachos in a bar that served food until 4am, unbelievable) and I've also played a copious amount of Pro Evo at my mate John's place, which has made me think longingly about my Xbox at home, sitting there, not being used, slowing rotting, crying inside. Pain. And of course I've seen loads of films, for free. I also managed to get to my first gig since being over here at the start of November when I saw Gwar at the Sound Academy with my mate Tom, which was absolutely mind-blowing. I think Gwar are possibly my favourite band of all time due to their insane stage shows, and if you don't like them, check this out and then bow to me, cos I'm da best innit.

Toronto seems to have a reputation here for being unfriendly, and sometimes it can definitely appear that way, but I still enjoy the place, and big city living is still a massive novelty for me. Things just never end here. Everything is around the corner. Places you never knew existed become your favourites. And it appears everyone else likes it - at least two Brits I know who have left Toronto for other parts of Canada have since come back - this city is definitely a stable starting block - unfriendly and expensive but welcoming and opportunistic.. juxtapositionmentaltastic. I'll definitely stay here until at least Spring, when my patience for concrete wears thin and I long for bears, mooses and big mountains and shit.

Now, where's my snow you bastard?

Oot and Aboot

"Isn't he cute?" "Not really" "No.. his accent." "Oh.. yeah."

Oh dear, oh dear. This is turning into less of a blog and more of a bloody monthly Reader's Digest. With less.. err.. I dunno, I've never read it. It's got recipes in it hasn't it? Yeah, there's none of them. I'm going to start charging soon. Would you pay? Of course you wouldn't, what a silly thought.

So then right. Since the last time I posted, which is sickeningly over 6 weeks ago, a hell of a bloody lot has happened. Let me take you back to that time. I was still in a horrific hostel by the name of Global Backpackers Village back then, which now I am out of it's sordid grasp, I can honestly say was a complete and utter "sordid little grief hole", as a character played by Chris Morris once said. Oh, for hindsight. Anyway, I left a few days later and moved into another hostel, Hostelling International Toronto, where bizarrely, I still reside.

Anyway, more of that later. Around the time I first joined HI, I was still heavily focused on finding jobs. The endless cycle of CV handing out and bullshit cover letters and stuff isn't fun, and any preconceptions about the recession being any less over here were quickly dashed. Yeah, there is plenty of jobs about, but only with about a hundred billion applicants desperately clambering to make 25 cents by licking the shit off drive-thru banks. Probably.

Drive-thru banks eh. Fucking hell. One thing that hadn't at the time and still hasn't diminished is the sheer hilarity of Toronto. From the ridiculous adverts on TV, to the shop names (Excellent Haircut...Nice One Nails..) to the most insane things you've ever seen like.. a hobo shitting on a church (less funny, more gip-worthy)... they all just give me a very warped view of this city. And I have grown fond of it's twisted ridiculousness. Even the graffiti is better than Britain. I mean, I have genuine respect for people who dawb "Give up, you're too old!" over Jay-Z posters or scrawl "You're ruining our childhood!" over an Astroboy movie poster.

I don't truely believe I'm seeing the real Canada here, and I've heard this view echoed to me by other people. It's not started snowing here yet, it's getting cold a bit (I'm WELL not prepared for that), but Toronto does seem like a bit of any big American city I've seen on TV, with people who say "oot and aboot" and like waving their flags. It's extremely multicultural, which is of course, a good thing (+2 points for my liberalism there), but I think I shall have to wait until next year before I see the whole bear-moose-mountie thing. There's plenty of ice hockey ABOOT EH, but with the form the Toronto Maple Leafs are in, I think I'll steer well clear. Seven losses in a row?! Oh, how I yearn to watch highlights and goals from the INCREDIBLY mighty Leeds ripping up League One at the moment on the BBC Sport website. Bloody restrictions!

Anyway, yes. The job situation grated on me muchly, but plenty of things were going on. I happened to see Ricky Gervais in the street getting out of a limo at the Toronto International Film Festival which was nice, and definitely worth mentioning you "that-isn't-fucking-interesting-Paul"-tossbanana. Socially, I've met a helluva lot of English people this month, including my main boys and current room-mates in the rather nice HI-Hostel, the Room 801 West Yorkshire massive, Dan, Tom and Neil (AKA "the Nesbitt"). Yeah, they come from Bradford. What's that shit?!

I've also had SWAPers coming out of my ears (sadly not in reality yet...er..) and the majority of night outs have included some or all of them. The hostel itself throws up some interesting characters on occasion and we also got taught beer pong by some really quite young college girls before everything sort of went wrong, but that story isn't very interesting. Promise.

But yeah, that's right, I'm still in a hostel after seven weeks. But it's not a case of waking up to find a smelly Chinese bloke going mental inside a dustbin at 6am - after living with another two bloody nice chaps on top of the current Room 801 roster for a couple of weeks at the end of September, we booked into a semi-private room at the start of October, meaning it was just four of us. Cabin fever does occasionally set in, but no one has died. Yet. My bet is on Neil. Things like ninjavideo (New Peep Show is WIZARD!), Chris Morris quotes and a bloody amazing game called Simsoc (much recommended for fans of 96-97 Premiership footballers and early Champ Manager games) do make the time go quicker and provide us all with a bloody laugh. Like Neil.



We've managed a few nice trips during this month though as the job search sort of faltered and then finally succeeded. The CN Tower was a little bit of a let down (it's just a big tower innit) - the views were ok, but I probably would have felt a bit let down had it not cost about 12 dollars thanks to a left voucher from our fleeting friends Ozzie "croc" Melissa and Nic (she was from Bradford, what's that shit again). Niagara Falls was lovely though, despite being a load of old water - it was nice to get out of the city for a day and see some different coloured trees. Some bits were a let down though - the world's most dangerous whirlpool was a complete and utter scam and the supposedly picturesque Town of Niagara was overrun with tourist scum like ourselves. We also went to Woodbine races on Saturday, where we lost loads of money and cried ourselves to sleep on the way home on the bus.

Toronto it seems isn't a huge attraction place, so whilst I'm Toronto, I do plan to get out to some of the other famous cities around here - Montreal, Quebec City and Ottawa (where two of my room mates are currently doing).

So, onto jobs. Ah, firstly, one thing I did manage was to sign up to an agency on the spot in mid-September and find myself serving U2 fans hotdogs at two dates those Oirish dolts did at the Rogers Centre. Not much to report there, but on a side note, I found myself at the Rogers Centre quite a few times after this, bizarrely because I seemed to find myself drawn to baseball. I mean yeah, it could be because it was 11 dollars and I didn't have anything else to do, but the last game I saw was genuinely gripping, and I even ended up buying a Blue Jays watch for work! WORK! Yes, a few weeks ago, I got a call back from Scotiabank cinema, a cinema where I watched Inglorious Basterds at with my mate Mr Daniel Sawicki at the start of September (to review, it was ok, bit over-Tarantino-y, but whatever, I haven't even seen Pulp Fiction and even I made that judgement so it can't have been that good.. I've also seen District 9 which was bloody superb and Zombieland which was alright, wordy reviews over), and they gave me the job straight away at the interview.

In summary, it's minimum wage, and at the moment, I'm not sure I can live off it exclusively. But for what it is, after working about four or five shifts now, I can honestly say it's pretty good for a part time job. I finally get to meet some real Canadians and I get picked up on by my englishness a lot; take a look at that ruddy bold title at the top for a TERRIBLE example, but I reckon it helps - I sold the most popcorn/drink/candy combos last week, which was kind of the corniest and best thing ever, and I got a 25 dollar gift voucher for a restaurant AND I get to see the equivalent of a free film a week, so don't... Also, it means some of those lovely Toronto girls HAVE to talk to me..

In short, yes, I'm a journalism graduate who now works for Cineplex Canada and stinks of popcorn. Wandafideaboudid?!

Anyway, with some income coming in now, and with a bit of luck, an extra bit on the cards if I can find another job for over Christmas, I am in the process (I say process, that mainly just means wasting time on the motherfucking internet)of finding somewhere to live of my own for November.

And that's me for now. The Canadian dream is still alive! Things will change in a few weeks and I'll have to adapt or die. Stay tuned to see if I die. Hope you're having a nice time in Britain and go and check out my photos on Facebook you big spazz!

Well it's aboot time..

"FUCK YOUR COUNTRY! I'LL BLOW THE SHIT OUT OF IT!"

That particular American hobo walking down a Toronto street screaming profanities obviously doesn't like Canada. That's a shame, because from what I've seen and witnessed so far, I bloody love it!

I've been here in Toronto over a week now, and despite the fact I am yet to find a job or a permanent place to stay, I sort of feel as though I've settled in, even though everything is well up in the air... I've got used to being given 30 seconds to cross the road, to realising that prices don't include tax and eating Oh! Henrys. Yes. Oh! Henry. I mean.. what's that shit. Come on. Y'see, this being my first time in North America ever, the Americanisms hit me and make me laugh 10 times harder than people in my situation.

Anyway, I digress.. back to the start. After meeting some nice people at the airport last Wednesday and a not so gruelling eight hour flight (cheers, the American Office on demand), I finally arrived in Toronto on Wednesday afternoon. The approach on the plane over the lakes and then finally the city, with that big shiny needle up there, finally brought it home to me where I was... and fucking hell, it turned out to be real. After some fudding around at the airport and a pretty easy ride through immigration, we got to our pretty duff hostel (where I still reside, apparently it used to be a hotel where Jack Nicholson and the Rolling Stones stayed; I'm guessing it fell apart and so is now perfect as a cheap hostel) and stepped out into the city that hopefully I'll call my home for the foreseeable future. First impressions?! LISTEN UP OTHER CITIES. THIS IS HOW A CITY SHOULD BE! Clean, vibrant, everything seemingly open at all times (people want to buy TV's at 10pm right?), very friendly smiley people and despite the fact it's the second biggest country on earth's biggest city, you feel refreshingly safe wherever you go at any time (at least I have so far, not planning on visiting any crack houses just yet..)! The scale of it and the fact you can be in a seemingly entirely different neighbourhood after a short walk on tram ride is still very new to me, coming straight outta Menston yo. G. Innit.

So yeah, great city, wonderful. After the first night, where I and other group flight attendees crashed to our respective beds at a despicable 10pm from the lag, we had another explore the next day and since then I've filled most of my days up with a combination of dropping into the SWAP office (which has free internet and is sort of like a job centre but with less people called Daz) and wandering around the city aimlessly, gawping at Toronto's frankly stunning ladies, buying hotdogs and laughing at signs (A restaurant called "Feel like Crepe".. Anyone?). Sometimes at the same time. The amount of money I've been spending has been sort of ridiculous, especially since me and my homeboy Danielo have been trying to cover every fast food place in Toronto... (Taco Bellend is the winner so far).

But I've done a few things that are worth mentioning, in lieu of finding a job or a place to stay. The first week, we went to the baseball, which I'm afraid to say, was the dullest live sporting event I've ever witnessed. The Toronto Blue Jays beat them famous New York Yankees when we saw it, the Yankees scoring nothing at all. The players hardly ever hit the ball, one game appears to mean nothing (they play ONE HUNDRED AND SIXTY TWO GAMES IN SIX MONTHS) and the beers cost ten dollars. That's not my kind of sport I'm afraid. Other than the baseball, I've also been to Toronto Island a couple of times, which is basically one massive park with some awesome views of the city. The first time me and Daniel went on Labour Day, and it was full of families, but me and a load of fellow SWAP lads went today and it was much better quieter and footballs (shove "soccer" up your arse) and American footballs were flying everywhere. I've also been out a few times with the BUNAC/SWAP people, who are all very nice, and despite the drinks costing an arm and a shitting leg, fun times I'm pleased to report are being had, so don't worry yourself. I'm yet to go up the CN Tower (which always feels like a euphemism) or get over to Niagra Falls, but they are definito priorities.

So yeah! All good things to report so far. Except the fact I just saw a mouse in the hostel. Probably should get out of this place quite soon, but I'm looking for a job before I commit to anywhere... Once that happens, the doom-filled feelings of running out of money and ending up like the many, many hobos on the streets of Toronto (that's a flaw) will disappear. Today I saw a hobo on rollerskates, holding a vase for his money. I applaud his creativity. Anyway, for now, I shall leave you and I promise to post shorter blogs in future...

Good night buddy!

I'm not your..............
..
.

Ey up, eh?

Andddddddddd apparantley, it's Canada Day today, which is a bit apt innit?! Happy one! Here is a stereotype of Canada summed up in a google image. Apologies, it's too hot, my brain is frazzled and I'm feeling slightly xenophobic...

Ey up!

Y'know what?! I'm a creative person. I used to regularly spew forth cartoons, stories, articles, poems, reviews, sketches and videos from the pink sponge inside my skull, but recently it's all gone a bit quiet. I'm not sure if it was the compulsory creativity at uni that dented my mindset or what.

But now it's over.. Annndd... I've passed all my university big boys and I'm back in the creative zone. So here's a brand spanking new blog full of various drivel that will document everything from now until I forget the password.

Cannydar

Yeah, on September the 2nd, I am moving to the second biggest country in the world for up to a year.. (not the second smallest, that's Monaco, they drive pointy cars there and half the population is the king). Why? Basically, the journalism industry is in even more of a crisis than ever what with the economic shitstorm, so I made a decision in January to do something a bit mental to escape being a dolemonkey after I trip over my graduation gown.



So, come September, I'll be doing a mixture of having a lovely fun time in a country I've never been to before, working a bit, travelling a bit and hopefully tattooing maple leafs all over my torso. I'm now in possession of plane tickets and a working visa (thanks to BUNAC's Work Canada scheme) and a cupful of dreams with no sugar (that's reserved for dream cornflakes). I can't bloody wait yeahahhah! So indeed, this blog will basically be centred around the fact I'm going insane. That's why I named it after a pun on my name and meat.

Stay tooned yo!

Love,
Paul

P.S
If you've got the time,please do check out me and my buddies' silly videos , my podcast (if you have a boner for thrash metal) and errr.. my twitter?