Patchoulia

"What do you think you're looking at sugar tits?"

-Mel Gibson

Best line ever.

Gibson's Anti-Semitic Tirade -- Alleged Cover Up

Posted Jul 28th 2006 9:15PM by TMZ Staff

Filed under: Celebrity Justice

TMZ has learned that Mel Gibson went on a rampage when he was arrested Friday on suspicion of drunk driving, hurling religious epithets. TMZ has also learned that the Los Angeles County Sheriff's department had the initial report doctored to keep the real story under wraps.

TMZ has four pages of the original report prepared by the arresting officer in the case, L.A. County Sheriff's Deputy James Mee. According to the report, Gibson became agitated after he was stopped on Pacific Coast Highway and told he was to be detained for drunk driving Friday morning in Malibu. The actor began swearing uncontrollably. Gibson repeatedly said, "My life is f****d." Law enforcement sources say the deputy, worried that Gibson might become violent, told the actor that he was supposed to cuff him but would not, as long as Gibson cooperated. As the two stood next to the hood of the patrol car, the deputy asked Gibson to get inside. Deputy Mee then walked over to the passenger door and opened it. The report says Gibson then said, "I'm not going to get in your car," and bolted to his car. The deputy quickly subdued Gibson, cuffed him and put him inside the patrol car.

TMZ has learned that Deputy Mee audiotaped the entire exchange between himself and Gibson, from the time of the traffic stop to the time Gibson was put in the patrol car, and that the tape fully corroborates the written report.

Once inside the car, a source directly connected with the case says Gibson began banging himself against the seat. The report says Gibson told the deputy, "You mother f****r. I'm going to f*** you." The report also says "Gibson almost continually [sic] threatened me saying he 'owns Malibu' and will spend all of his money to 'get even' with me."

The report says Gibson then launched into a barrage of anti-Semitic statements: "F*****g Jews... The Jews are responsible for all the wars in the world." Gibson then asked the deputy, "Are you a Jew?"

The deputy became alarmed as Gibson's tirade escalated, and called ahead for a sergeant to meet them when they arrived at the station. When they arrived, a sergeant began videotaping Gibson, who noticed the camera and then said, "What the f*** do you think you're doing?"

A law enforcement source says Gibson then noticed another female sergeant and yelled, "What do you think you're looking at, sugar tits?"

We're told Gibson took two blood alcohol tests, which were videotaped, and continued saying how "f****d" he was and how he was going to "f***" Deputy Mee.

Gibson was put in a cell with handcuffs on. He said he needed to urinate, and after a few minutes tried manipulating his hands to unzip his pants. Sources say Deputy Mee thought Gibson was going to urinate on the floor of the booking cell and asked someone to take Gibson to the bathroom.

After leaving the bathroom, Gibson then demanded to make a phone call. He was taken to a pay phone and, when he didn't get a dial tone, we're told Gibson threw the receiver against the phone. Deputy Mee then warned Gibson that if he damaged the phone he could be charged with felony vandalism. We're told Gibson was then asked, and refused, to sign the necessary paperwork and was thrown in a detox cell.

Deputy Mee then wrote an eight-page report detailing Gibson's rampage and comments. Sources say the sergeant on duty felt it was too "inflammatory." A lieutenant and captain then got involved and calls were made to Sheriff's headquarters. Sources say Mee was told Gibson's comments would incite a lot of "Jewish hatred," that the situation in Israel was "way too inflammatory." It was mentioned several times that Gibson, who wrote, directed, and produced 2004's "The Passion of the Christ," had incited "anti-Jewish sentiment" and "For a drunk driving arrest, is this really worth all that?"

We're told Deputy Mee was then ordered to write another report, leaving out the incendiary comments and conduct. Sources say Deputy Mee was told the sanitized report would eventually end up in the media and that he could write a supplemental report that contained the redacted information -- a report that would be locked in the watch commander's safe.

Initially, a Sheriff's official told TMZ the arrest occurred "without incident." On Friday night, Sheriff's spokesman Steve Whitmore told TMZ: "The L.A. County Sheriff's Department investigation into the arrest of Mr. Gibson on suspicion of driving under the influence will be complete and will contain every factual piece of evidence. Nothing will be sanitized. There was absolutely no favoritism shown to this suspect or any other. When this file is presented to the Los Angeles County District Attorney, it will contain everything. Nothing will be left out."

Gibson's rep Alan Nierob tells TMZ: "We are unaware of any of the information you mentioned in your email pertaining to a police report."

That last post was me by the way!

(HAHA!! I look so funny with a moustache!)

Warming up for Burtonization?

Don't forget the dreaded skirt tucked into panyhose/panties debacle.

I am fastidious about ensuring my skirt is properly arranged prior to exiting the bathroom, but I have seen women who have fallen victim to this harsh mistress.. *Shudder*

It's always a good start to the day when you spill coffee down your white shirt in not one, but 2 places. And not *at* work, where you can clean up relatively easily and minimize embarrassing stainage--oh no!--on the subway!

I should know better than to get coffee before I get on the train...particularly when wearing white. Coffeetastrophe.

rain is supposed to clear up this evening....here's hopin'!

I sure hope so...I'm not certain I'll have time to get my Cummings mask laminated in time.

Who am I kidding? It's called prioritization.

"Sorry, work folk, I ave an emergency...what emergency? Okay, I'll be honest...I must nip out to get someone's face laminated...Guess Who?"

Har har har. I kill me.

Hurry up and win big psl. Thnak you.

I love Toronto and would not want to live anywhere else.

That being said, I might change my mind if I ever encounter the 17 foot tall, carnivorous iguana referenced in the piece...

Suuuuuuuure, publicist person....suuuure he was "sick"....

Publicist: Hasselhoff Was Sick, Not Drunk

Report: Hasselhoff Too Drunk to Fly

LONDON (AP) -- A spokesperson for David Hasselhoff denied a report Thursday that the former "Baywatch" and "Knight Rider" star had been turned away from a British Airways flight because he was drunk.

Judy Katz, the actor's publicist, called the story by the tabloid Sun "totally untrue."

Katz said Hasselhoff had not been drinking, but felt unwell after taking some medication for a recent arm injury and wasn't able to get on a flight Wednesday from Heathrow Airport to Los Angeles.

The Sun reported the actor had been told he could not board the flight because he was drunk. Witnesses told the newspaper Hasselhoff appeared to have trouble standing and told staff he was upset about his divorce from Pamela Bach. The divorce was finalized Wednesday in a Los Angeles court.

Hasselhoff, 54, was allowed to get on a later flight, the newspaper said.

The airline said only that a male passenger had been refused boarding after he was deemed unfit to travel.

"They gave him some strong antibiotics and he got sick at the airport," Katz said. "He couldn't get on the plane. It was his choice. He got on the later flight."

Last month, the actor sliced four tendons and an artery in a shaving accident at his London hotel.

Earlier this month, there were press reports that an intoxicated Hasselhoff had to be removed from the All England Club, which presents the Wimbledon tennis championships. He denied the claim.

Hasselhoff filed for divorce from Bach on Jan. 12 after 16 years of marriage, citing irreconcilable differences. Bach, 42, filed her own divorce papers, also citing irreconcilable differences.

The last of mine is umbrella people.

LOL

The golf umbrella on city sidewalks..someone is soo going to lose an eye one of these days!!

you do have some SOME points.. but dude you seem like the glass is half empty kinda guy..

you gotta look for the good.. a city like Toronto which gets compared to other Major cities around the world has the same problems every major city does..

or are you just havin a bad day in the city and need to rant?

I didn't write it.

And I'm not a guy.

And I don't think the guy who wrote it was being serious, just funny, but that's just my impression.

I love Toronto, this just made me laugh out loud.

A long read, but well worth it...hysterical...written by someone called "The Internet Slacker"...

I particularly enjoy number 10--have you ever seen that guy?

http://community.livejournal.com/toronto/4499600.html?style=mine#cutid1

The Ten Things I Hate About Toronto

I almost love Toronto. With its proud CN Tower, vibrant shopping, and a zoo full of drugged gorillas, Toronto is one of the best cities in the world. But I don’t fully love Toronto.

There are ten things I absolutely friggin’ detest about this city, and I’d like to share them with you now in this wonderful article. My therapist says writing is a much more acceptable way of expressing my inner rage, instead of my usual practice of shoplifting women’s lingerie from the Eaton’s Centre, changing into a sexy little lace teddy, and heading down to the food court to order a “Frogurtâ€.

Yes, it’s true nobody likes me when “Shelly†takes over, and I don’t blame them. So to avoid another public psychotic episode involving pantyhose and enraged security guards (I’m up to hundred and thirty seven so far; I’d be famous right now if Guinness World Records encouraged traumatic psychotic transvestism), let’s get right to the pulsating core that makes up my HATE:

1) Homeless People Asking For Change

Spare Change Haiku: “I have no spare change. Please do not touch me, strange man. I have no spare change.â€

Okay, okay, calm down. I do not hate homeless people; I hate the fact that people are homeless mostly due to an ignorant, greedy government. I don’t hate the person but the situation.

Look, I’m not a cold bastard, I do give money to people who genuinely seem to need it. But most of the homeless in Toronto appear to be capable of, well, making more of themselves. Sure, there’s a lot of individuals without money or homes due to mental illness, but most of the homeless I encounter seem to hang around beer stores or have obvious drug problems… and there’s no way I’m funding someone else’s addictions when I have oh so many of my own to support. Ha! Ha! Ha! Uhm… sorry.

I guess this is just one of those things about Toronto that I hate because I feel morally responsible as a citizen for the problem, and yet have very limited means to help the situation. I’ve thought about making a whole bunch of tasty sandwiches to hand out to homeless people, sort of a “Sandwiches for the Homeless†personal campaign. Hey, if you can’t give a homeless person a house, hopefully they’ll appreciate a delicious bacon-lettuce & tomato sandwich when it’s forty below! (Always throw on a little extra mayonnaise, the homeless have suffered enough).

I know my third complaint will probably get some people’s panties in a twist, but I can’t help it because:

2) Every Time I Walk Up Church Street, Everyone Assumes I’m Gay

Everybody Dance Now! WHOM-WHOMWHOM-WHOM-WHOMP!

Okay, okay, for Baby Jesus’ sake CALM DOWN! I do not hate Gay people! I like Gay people! Hell, I think Gay people should run the goddamn government for chrissakes! Sort of like a “Homocracyâ€: Toronto police would look nicer in pink & lavender uniforms, the city streets would be cleaner & certainly more colorful ‘n festive, and the homeless would get really tasty sandwiches with sprouts ‘n tofu ‘n fat-reduced mayonnaise.

It’s just that… I feel a bit uncomfortable treated like a piece of delicious man-candy whenever I have occasion to pass through Church Street. I’m flattered, sure, as I feel hundreds of lustful men’s eyes surreptitiously traveling up and down my rippling abdominal muscles & lean Scandinavian-swimmer-like body. So why don’t WOMEN give me these kind of looks?

I’ll tell you why: because every woman on this planet is plotting to make my life miserable. My ex-wife leads this conspiracy. I’m not joking.

Ha! Ha! Ha! Okay, I’m joking. My ex-wife doesn’t lead this conspiracy; it’s actually run by Henry Kissinger:

“I will stare into your MIND until your soul is MINE. Please do not struggle during the procedure.â€

Henry’s the man (actually an alien lizard-being in human form) responsible for each and every conspiracy on the planet, which includes all the occasions you’ve lost your keys, woken up late for work, or suffered the loss of bladder control during important staff meetings.

Yes, Mr. K’s influence is everywhere, in the cosmic rays, in the deepest pool of fear inside my soul, and in:

3) Those Goddamn Huge Electronic Billboards That Rape My Eyes

“Send in eighty-seven Proofs of Purchase of our product and we’ll send you a free sample of sight-restorative eye-drops! ($29.95 shipping and handling, 8-16 months for delivery you poor blind bastard muwhahaha buy our product.)

Maybe I’m crazy, but I think that the last thing a Toronto downtown shopper wishes to observe are massive arena-sized supernova-bright computer screens hanging off the sides of buildings. Or worse, huge malfunctioning monitors flickering at bizarre frame rates that lead to full blown sidewalk seizures. And yet, we see these damn electronic monstrosities all over downtown Toronto.

I hate computer billboards! I don’t know what’s worse, tearing down a beautiful old building or turning it into a corporate whore by slapping a big-ass gaudy display on it. And even if there’s nothing technically wrong with the picture, do we really need to be bombarded with hair conditioner messages from yet another advertisement flashing in our faces? We’re shopping already, for God’s sakes; take the big bright light away! Take it away! My eyes… oh sweet blessed St. Al Waxman, my EYES… MY RETINAS ARE ON FIRE.

Sure, it’s fun to watch tourists in Toronto clutch their steaming eye sockets and fall to the pavement, but that can’t be good for our city’s economy. I say, tear the electronic billboards down… or let them randomly fall down due to non-maintenance. This will ensure a more exciting downtown shopping experience. One day I want to see one of those billboards fall off the side of a building and pancake a whole crowd of Mormons. I don’t hate Mormons, mind you, I just think it’d be really funny. And you would, too. Admit it.

I guess it’s not politically correct of me to make fun of people whose spiritual beliefs are sillier than mine, so I’ll ensure more hate comments on my blog by discussing the:

4) So-called “Multiculturism†of Toronto

“United we stand for glaring suspiciously at a dumb looking bald-as-fuck white writer with the ego to call himself THE Internet Slacker. What a prick. We must glare at him with yet more eerie strength.â€

Sorry, but I just don’t see much friendliness in the Toronto multicultural scene. Many of the stores I explore in Chinatown are usually run by old Chinese ladies who glare suspiciously at me.

And… oh, wait. I can’t think of anything else to support this argument. I guess suspicious old Chinese ladies are my only reason for number #4 in this list. Not much of one, is it? Well, have you seen the way those old ladies stare at you? It’s unsettling.

And Chinatown in Toronto is always so packed with people buying spiny things from outdoor vendors who scream about spiny things. And spread-out blankets offering home-made pirated DVD’s. And the old Chinese ladies who find me in the crowd with their eyes… their eyes… their ever-glaring, unforgiving EyEs…

That’s Toronto for you: wherever you go, there’s a bunch of people on the sidewalk who try to sell you something, ask for change, or just won’t get out of your way. Maybe my “walking etiquette†is a bit too demanding, but what really flames my nuts on the open grill of hate are:

5) People Who Use the Entire Sidewalk As If They Own It. There is a certain type of person who just instinctually knows how to “walk ‘n block†everybody else on the sidewalk. Such a walk is hard to describe, but imagine someone walking not so much forward as they are diagonally weaving back and forth along the sidewalk’s general direction. And while they are walking slower than you, somehow (as if they have eyes in the backs of heads) these people weave into your path, blocking you better than a professional steroid-crazed NBA athlete on defense.

I am a non-violent person, but I really, really want to strangle these people. Slowly. On a sidewalk, in full view of horrified bystanders. And many old Chinese ladies would nod their wisdom-wrinkled heads, knowing they were right about me.

But I always prefer to walk. I enjoy walking, and it’s just not safe for society in general to accelerate my fat ass at greater speeds than a light stroll. I know I’d make a lousy driver because, well, I hate:

6) Cars & the People Who Drive Them

Force equals mass times velocity squared or cubed or something like that. What I really know is that a steel engine block accelerated by human stupidity driven into my knees really, really SUCKS.

I don’t drive. On the whole, I don’t like cars: noisy, smelly, big metal things that have on more than one occasion run me over or flung me from their roofs while I was hanging onto Ron Patenaude’s Datsun during drunken college parties.

I was actually hit by a car once, but fortunately I suffered only a mild concussion muffins tractors Cracker JACKS.

I actually have never owned a driver’s license or car, and that’s because I’m afraid of my family curse. It seems that whenever a male specimen in our family tries to operate anything that moves them faster than walking speed, they (read: me) crash it into something heavy and non-moving.

You think I’m kidding? The first time I put on skis, I pulled a “Non-Fatal Sonny Bonoâ€, a ‘NFSB’. Well, non-fatal for me, the tree wasn’t so lucky. Ice skates? The problem there is I can skate just fine, I just can’t stop. My body refuses to do the stopping motion with the skates because invariably I launch myself into the air at about the height of nearby people’s ribcages. So my brain refuses to stop my legs when I’m skating.

It’s a psychological disorder I’ll thank you to not laugh at. Three years ago I was skating on the frozen Ottawa River in February and I slid all the way to the mouth of the St. Lawrence Seaway. Oh, very funny, yes, nearly freezing to death is a laugh riot, isn’t it? At least the rescue patrol on snowmobile who threw a net over my desperately accelerating body thought I was flippin’ hilarious.

Rollerblades? I nearly uprooted a sapling oak as a car full of Rastafarians drove past me, the occupants of which laughed uproariously while encouraging, “You can do it, whitebread!â€

Suffice it to say, I use the public transportation system now. It’s a lot safer to the people and general environment around me… but it’s not safe for me. No, we couldn’t have that now, could we, God? Each and every time I pay the TTC I have to suffer:

7) Strangers Who Sit Beside Me on the Bus or Subway Train and Press Their Thigh Against Mine and/or other Touch Me Inappropriately.

Dear merciful God in Heaven Who laughs at me and mocks my pain, don’t you get enough amusement watching me get “pwned†by life each and every day? Traveling on the bus or subway should afford me some quiet time sitting with only myself & my deep, deep important thoughts.

But, no. Whenever I sit my fat ass down on a seat, either:

- a sandwich-less drunk homeless guy,

- a violently disturbed female (who is probably my ex-wife in disguise), or,

- a guy wearing waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay too much cologne who simply must jam & rub their leg against mine,

...plops down beside me. And then, the leg press. Sometimes, their entire side begins to rub against me. One time a guy rested his head on my shoulder with a gentle wistful sigh.

In the name of every un-Christian deity, GET AWAY FROM ME! I don’t like being touched, unless the person is a close friend or lover. Lover? Ha ha ha, yeah, right. Close friends, anyways.

No, wait a minute… none of my close friends want to touch me, not even on the bus. So it’s either a life of no physical contact, or I get felt up by strangers on municipal transportation systems. Fuck.

Here’s another form of my seething hatred of crowds for you to ridicule, because I know you and my ex-wife and Henry Kissinger laugh at me behind my back all the time. I absolutely loathe and despise screaming crowds of stupid, stupid, stupid people whose combined IQ’s wouldn’t rival an empty school bus of the short type, if you know what I mean and I think you do:

8) The Large Crowd of Shrieking Idiots around MuchMusic When Yet Another Corporate (uhm) We Mean “Musical†Band Appears.

“Give us Justin Timberlake so that we may KNOW HIM.†Genesis 19: 4-5

I like a lot of music: classic rock ‘n roll, house, trance, even some stompin’ country and western tunes (as long as they involve potatoes from Prince Edward Island) are groovelicious in fulfilling my musical appetite. (Please note that I invented the word “grooveliciousâ€).

But I detest “boy bands†and such corporate-born Satanic afterbirths inflicting our ears with random noise geared to amp up the hormonal systems of adolescent girls to “11†on the dial. Young teenage females are naughty enough as it is, and should be spanked more often oh god YES.

Rock ‘n roll is about stickin’ it to The Man, man! It’s not about making money! So what if you’re starving, homeless and rubbing up against people on subways for cheap human contact, you’re making REAL music. Look, it’s either struggling for years playing your music on the cold streets, or immediately shooting to the top via corporate sponsorship and getting crushed to death by a mob consisting of young female flesh.

Aw, dammit. I’m… probably not supporting my argument very well here. Instead, let me perform a public service by discussing the very real threat of:

9) The Giant Parkdale Iguana

“We will also discuss rent controls, lawn maintenance and… aw, who the hell are we kidding? WOULD SOMEONE PLEASE MURDER THIS HUGE FREAKIN’ IGUANA!!!â€

Almost every week another poor bastard gets eaten by the Giant Parkdale Iguana. As a Toronto citizen I’m sick and tired of hearing the mayor’s constant excuses as to why the police force hasn’t killed it with their new nuclear tank.

C’mon, Mayor David Miller! Get with the program! Nobody wants a seventeen foot tall carnivorous iguana in their neighbourhood! The combined angry hissing and screams of the 7-11 clerks are keeping people up all night!

Yes, yes, yes, Parkdale residents, I know you’ve tried to kill the Giant Parkdale Iguana by driving a Toyota Tercel loaded with home-made fertilizer bombs into its pale green abdomen, but that didn’t work, did it? The memorable massive explosion, the 7-11 store’s front windows blowing out, more screaming and hissing, “Twinkies†packages showering the neighborhood…. gee-zuz…

Look, we’re gonna need dozens of nuclear tanks in Parkdale! And stealth biplanes! And giant dead flies laced with tranquilizers! Once we got all that, Giant Iguana BBQ time, baby! (I got dibs on the throat wattle). Finally, 7-11 clerks everywhere will breathe a sigh of relief as they clutch their Twinkies. Er, yeah.

To all you supporters of the Giant Parkdale Iguana saying “it’ll clean out the neighborhoodâ€: SCREW YOU! I hate YOU, I hate huge iguanas who LICK MY HEAD to judge my flavor when I’m waiting at the bus stop, and while we’re on the topic of HATE I REALLY REALLY HATE:

10) Zanta-Haters

“You… light up my life. You give me hope… to carry on. With your beach towel… and push-upppppssss…â€

For those who don’t know, Zanta is an eccentric individual in Toronto who blocks people on sidewalks while screaming his Santa-wearing head off, performs push-ups in heavy traffic, and generally loves making new friends who are usually you. It’s considered “good luck†to spot Zanta in a confused & mildly terrified crowd; there’s even a LiveJournal community dedicated to His Zantaness:

http://community.livejournal.com/zantabulous/

But there are those Toronto citizens who don’t appreciate or even like Zanta. Sacrilege, yes. Or is it “Zacrilege� Only Zanta knows…

To those people who don’t appreciate Zanta, I send forth a hearty offensive hand gesture involving both my arms and a wrist.

Without “colorful†individuals like Zanta making our streets more interesting & full of nonsensical ravings, Toronto would be boring. So bring on the Zanta and his inexplicable push-ups.

Personally, though, I hate push-ups. I do three of ‘em and I start sounding like an asthmatic moose that somehow wandered to the top of the CN Tower by the stairs. But Zanta’s cool in my book because he rattles the Normals. And when I say “rattlesâ€, I mean RATTLES. S’fun to watch.

In Conclusion:

Here is the best way to solve these ten problems:

We elect Zanta as Mayor of Toronto, and hire an all-Gay staff for City Hall. This new political force creates clean, well-decorated homes for the homeless. Several new by-laws are put into effect as well:

Bylaw #1: No electronic billboards. All existing computer billboards will be torn down and sold to rich computer geeks who will use them as huge monitors to play ‘World of Warcraft’… to the Extreme!

Bylaw #2: No cars in Toronto are allowed, only Vespa scooters, bicycles, and those weird homemade lawnmower engine-powered skateboards you sometimes see freaks ride. (Oh, and to the guy on the unicycle I’ve seen riding around Toronto: I ORDER YOU TO BUY A REAL BIKE WITH TWO WHEELS. I don’t care if a unicycle is environmentally-friendly, YOU LOOK LIKE A MOBILE VILLAGE IDIOT. Sorry folks, I had to get that out of my system.)

Bylaw #3: Bus seats & sidewalks are doubled in size, with protective barriers in the middle. Seat barriers on the subway will have a small electrical charge for further “groping discouragementâ€.

Bylaw#4: Gay men are not allowed to molest my taut, Adonis-like body with their eyes (or any other organs). However, I should make a compromise with the Homosexuality community in the spirit of understanding & goodwill, so I will allow Lesbians to spank me.

Bylaw#5: MuchMusic is only allowed to broadcast musical acts with actual quantifiable talent. When CityTV goes bankrupt in direct response to this rule, the channel will be filled with re-runs of “Air Wolfâ€. SHUT UP I LIKE AIR WOLF.

Zanta & his fabulous crew will also commission a task force to kill the Giant Parkdale Iguana; the plan will probably involve a lot of push-ups, loud screaming (human & animal alike), and seventeen beach towels soaked in ether. The corpse of the Giant Parkdale Iguana will be turned into delicious iguana-lettuce-tomato sandwiches (or “ILT’s†as I call ‘em) with extra low-fat mayonnaise for the (former) homeless. So far, they’ve received a free home decorated in seventeen tones of fuchsia & a tasty exotic lunch… pretty good deal.

Okay, that leaves us with the remaining dilemma of elderly Asian ladies who glare suspiciously at me, the evil consuming dark force that is my ex-wife, and the ever-lasting mystery of Henry Kissinger.

Here’s what we do: we turn the old Maple Leaf Gardens stadium into a gladiatorial coliseum and fill it with an audience made up of all the old Asian ladies in Toronto who glare at me. This audience will watch a “Thunderdomeâ€-style deathmatch between Kissinger and my ex-wife, instead of glaring at me.

After Henry Kissinger is brutally reduced to his component atoms by the sheer fury of my ex’s hate-powers, twenty-seven strong men with gorilla handling experience will taser her into submission and place her temporarily inert human form into a small “containment unit†made of pure adamantium which is then shot into deep, deep space.

And then… I will truly love Toronto. Thank you.

That's bloody brilliant.

It's mind-boggling to me to consider what lead Mr. Fluffhead to this discovery...probably went a little something like this...

Typical Wednesday. Roll out of bed, drink some coffee, go to work. Ponder world peace. Smoke some cigarettes. Grow bored with pondering and smoking. Wonder what possible crafts one could make with feminine hygiene products. Locate tamponcrafts.com. Spend rest of day in tamponic creative bliss.

Ooh. I want to check this out.

Live in Toronto on Dupont is SPECTACULAR!

Omigod, the food is soooooo delicious.

Basher and I went for lunch on a Saturday right around 1 pm and we didn't have to wait more than 5 or 6 minutes for a table.

And for your next party--the board game!

www.cobrasinthecockpit.com

Cobras in the Cockpit is a game based on a fictional movie where YOU play the SNAKES! Your objective: throw the plane into chaos! You will hiss, rattle, squeeze, and bite your way through the plane, earning points for each section you throw into chaos. But other snakes will try to stop you, so watch out!

There are 4 types of snakes: Cobras, Rattlesnakes, Kingsnakes, and Pythons, each one having special abilities that make them unique. Each player chooses a breed of snake to play and then moves their snakes through the plane, trying to scare the passengers and crew. When all sections of the plane have been thrown into chaos, the game is over and the snakes with the most points win.

Beware of the Bad Mother F$%#@! and the Air Marshall! Spook people with snakes on a plate and snakes in the head! But don't forget that snakes don't plan good and snakes can barely see!*

The game comes with a 5 piece board, a deck of 99 cards, 4 snake species cards, 20 snake markers, 10 chaos markers, rulebook, and scoresheet.

Cobras in the Cockpit supports 2-4 players and the average game takes 30-60 minutes.

* actual names of cards; bad grammar intended

Buck Yung Shurlies

Exotic-sounding and giggle-inducing.

But will there be Snakes on the Island?

The funny part is, you'll notice that we're not all male (Lynn being the odd one out).

That makes it even better!!

While I won't be attending the show, I heartily commend you on the band name. I just love it!!

There's just not enough use of either "surly" or "bucks" (in reference to men) these days--and in combination?

Well, that's just heady genius at work.

Oooh...assuming there will be fun people at the tables, I might even play poker.

Who knew the infamous "Skate Date" would turn out so well?

Chris, I asked Buggy to refer you to Grant--I'm still spent from delivering my patented "you better be good to her forever or else you'll incur my considerable wrath" speech to him. He can get you up to speed on the salient points.

Seriously, though, congratulations you guys...I'm soo happy for you both.

Though I can't help but think this is simply a ploy to get people to come to craPEI...

Love,

Julia

Do you big city types have any advice on how to get our digit, digits into shape.

My index finger won't stop quivering- she's really nervous.

I did a lot of pointing and finger-wagging in preparation. Most totally random. It's both good finger exercise and hilarious in that it's really confusing to the people around you.