fantastic that you should find yourself here. im here, you're here. please feel free to 'perooze' this here stuff. its full of fantat. check it out. and i hope afterwards, you realize, that, ive touched you deep in your heart. and that ive touched your moms, deep in their pants.

10.21.2004

S.A.R.S (Slightly Adjustable Reclining Seat)

morning.

its morning. the wee hours. does it really matter? not much i suppose. let me ranconte you a little. its amazing what you can learn in the span of three hours, in a dimly lit room with 15 other strangers and a nude woman. more curves, lines, oblongs than you could shake a 2B pencil at (love shaking 2B pencils). the weird thing was, the life drawing model...she kinda looked like my friends mom (Q:why are you obsessed with moms? A: cause you hate it so!). but after careful inspection, i decided that it wasn't her. which in the end is too bad. i have one of her tupperware containers, and ive been meaning to give it back. since the resemblance was so high, i gave this lady the lid. im sure in the grand scheme of things, that makes sense somehow.

my sheets look tempting.

shal

10.20.2004


des jeux.

cant only be about the pennies

alright, so personables,

thats it for the old ones. the ones you may or may not have read. and i promise that this wont be only a bitch session. there will be plenty for you to read. plenty to find out. plenty of oppoutunity to ask your friend shal questions. questions like 'hey shal, why you no use capitals?'. plenty of answers like 'hey idiot, why dont you go back to your country?' well thats more of a question too. i suppose. but yeah. enough supposing. bedtime.

you wear them on the outside. your undies are cool.

hello folk,

it seems that its that time again. time again, for another useless email. but within the following text lies the questions and possibly the leads to answers to one of lifes most un-asked, un-somethinged enigmas. As i sat this evening, waiting for the public transportation mobeal, i was struck with the inspiration for these very words, for these thoughts, and i realize i'm edging on something, something risky, heartfelt, substantial, something Michael Jackson Dangerous. 'what is he talking about Sanderson?' sorry, Sanderson doesnt know. ...Join me on this magic adventure and I'll fill you in.

its 7:10 am, and you're rushing around your 3 and a half trying to get things together cause you're almost late for work, school or interracial yoga class...whatever. finally you've got everything under control, you're dressed, fed, hair done, keys ready, all you need now is footwear....and socks. so you jump over your double and reach into the sock drawer, only to come up with a pair of good, well-knit black socks....with a sigh of relief you sit down to pull them on and as you do, you realize that your outfit does not allow black socks. but you're wearing long pants so who will see them? so, you pull them on, and get your tender bum out the door. well my friend, you just committed the number one fashion mistake.....and so it begins....The Black Sock Agenda....

now you think you've escaped...you black sock wearing bastard. but deep in your mind, where you hide secrets of playing doctor with the ugly neighbour kid, the black sock is eating away at you. slowly as you progress through the day you find that you're step is a little more depressed, people dont smile at you without force, your jokes suck, you're ugly, you smell of B.O. and your cheesecake sucks (a)ass. no matter what you do friend, there is no escaping the Black Sock Agenda. You've now joined the ranks of those pear shaped individuals, who travel on foot, garbed in beige cargo shorts, a t-shirt they perhaps won at a convention or from some movie they were an extra in, hauling a backpack that contains a collection of crackers and assorted cheeses wrapped individually for those long bus rides. yes the type that also (and this is consistant in my findings) decide that skater shoes are an excuse to port the thick black sport sock with that and any outfit. are they serious? are YOU serious? idiot.

But what makes the black sock so intolerable? it doesnt have any bad qualities, its just a sock. why are people looked down upon when they decide to wear that particular piece of clothing? well the answer is simple. they're stupid. they feel stupid, they should be treated as such. its a hard reality out there and there really is not much space for those who lack the common sense and those who will not provide the community with some courtesy by wearing outfit matching socks.

so, lessons learned? well i think they're pretty much for you to decide on. dont be stupid. dont be rude. get the sock game right my friend. and we'll all be happy.

this has been brought to you by the raindrop shaped fellow i encountered today who inspired this rant.

so till next time,

sshhaall

boil it down, you have no meats.

well hello folk,

its late and BASICALLY i just felt like hammering out some words. english ones. but im hard pressed to find a topic to bitch/complain/rant/piss about. well actually im not. there is plenty. e-talk daily to start with. but that train has already started on its way down the tracks, and has crashed and burned admist the wreckage that is entertainment television. i mean, break it down to its essential nutrients. there are at least 5 shows on network television and i'd bet that somewhere in the states, there are channels dedicated to this very moldy subject. what are people so enthralled with? where usher hangs his hat? where mariah carey dumped her last boyfriend? ill say it in so many small words.....who the crap cares? i suppose e-talk daily isnt the only show i should be casting into the fires of hell, but come on, its bad. how bad? hard-bad!

and wow. look at that. i wasnt even going to talk about e-talk daily. ive said that phrase so much its lost all meaning. its no longer means 'entertainment-talk daily'. its like when you say 'spoon' so many times, its just slobber that falls off and around your tongue. I'd say the phrase 'e-talk daily' at this point means 'fart', 'poop', 'lard'? something like that. OKAY. enough.

anyways, lets get to the topic at hand...old folks and transportation, sidewalks and other places we walk.

Lets examine this scenario (<-----cool word). The front door of your apt. building bursts open, and the cold thats waiting rips into your face. but you dont care. you took 7 minutes to get there from the warmth of your bed and you have another 7 to get to work. and work, is 8 minutes away. so you make your way down the (crazy freaking crap, incubus is coming to montreal) sidewalk and you tear across the road, not paying any attention to the red hand that's telling you you're fair game for traffic. you're doing well for time..... but crap. you look ahead and you see the walkable sidewalk coming to a small merge. maybe 3 ppl wide as opposed to the normal 7 or 8. you'll make it you tell yourself. only you fail to see the troop of grannies who got there first. now mind you, they left their houses about 1 hour ago. and they're only there. you make it to the tight end of this sidewalk-funnel-type thing and you're trapped behind 3 old ladies. you try to step around, no good. you try to step over and under, and you're getting nowhere. WAIT. you see an opening, and you dive for it. made it. you look back to see the grannies waving canes and cursing you out. 'darn you, piffin' boy, darn you'. wow. whatever. you're free. you're a little tight. but in 6 minutes, you'll be sitting on a nice fat office chair, listening to a nice french man talk to you about long distance roaming.....ahem! you make it to the metro and you take the stairs in three strides and you make it to the turnstyles (<----more excellent word) and your metro-pass makes delicate love to the reader. the bars turn and you almost fall over them in your zest to get to work. Finally the escalator.....you can take that in a whole 4 seconds and make the last metro to get you to work on time. but as you make your way down the 'walk' side of the magic-moving-metal-stairs you notice hunchback-of-notre-dame about three steps away. she'll move....right? WRONG! does she not hear you coming? feel the wind of rush that you create? obviously not. she's not going to sidestep. she's going to hold fort until she has to balance her way off at the end of the ride. CURSES! MODERATELY PROFANE CURSES! so you wait it out......you want to get around, try to, look for gaps, spaces, a way to push her down and call it an accident. doesnt she see you're in a rush? do old ppl have genders? I have Nabisco Genders in my cupboard. they're they perfect after school snack. (why cupboard anyways? why not cupshelf-with-door?') A good 2 minutes have passed and you're now in the metro car....its not that busy, you have some surroudning-sanitary-space. your stop is three away. darkness, station, darkness, station, darkness (someone's hand), station. you visualize what you see everyday, the doors opening......but as the metro was coming to its stop, a whole crowd of Saggy-Sophia's made their way to the door. like being there first would guarantee them the first pick of the bedpans at the Center for Elderly Sidewalk Idiots. And let me tell you, there's no getting through this group. they hold on to that pole like its life itself. and they're determined to be first off. cause they have no other pleasures in life? i dont know. im not old yet. so do you make it to work on time? well yeah. of course. after all, its a sexy job. and who doesnt like sexy jobs? but yeah, you see what i mean. i suppose its not ONLY old folk. but i guess there is a certain type that fits into this category. the category being 'slow-walkers'. but it just so happens that old ppl are the majority. so what can we do? i mean, there has to be a solution? do we paint lanes on sidewalks now? i mean arent there general rules when traversing the city? 'slow traffic stay home'? no? *sigh* if complaining only made it so. id be a millionaire and would have many women. and many of you would be those many women. and i apologize to the men from whom i have stolen the women. dont get me wrong. i have grandparents. and they're old. but i would also be the first person to sort them out if they tried anything like this. but thankfully they live in england. where the rules are backwards. so i dont have to. have a goodnight ppl. and remember. without PENS....there would be no PENmanship! think about that!

sadly, i dont know the pleasure of dogs. thankfully i know the pleasure of you(r mom).


hello friends,

i know its been a while since the last email from this address, but as most of you know, my life as of late has revolved around my being a slut, whore, streetmonger, whichever you like. who, you ask is paying me for my services so well that i neglect the email? the footlocker in fact, and well the pay isnt that great. i guess i just love being the prostitute that it makes me.

well sadly this one is going to be short....only two small points to complain about this week, one is work related (BIG surprise) the other dwells in the entertainment news section.

So first off, check it out. You stroll into your local footlocker and you're scanning the men/womens shoe section and you cant decide whether you want those kick-ass-likely-to-fall-apart Nike runners, or those less-than-hype New Balance cross trainers. Well hey, you're inside Footlocker, no worries at all, right? You turn around and look around for one of those dashing employees all geared up in their referee uniforms. You manage to find one, and the dissapointment ensues:

you : "hey there"
stripey: "hey"
you : "which of these shoes is better?"
stripey: "umm, that one"
you: "oh yeah, how come?"
stripey: "its....shinier? you're more visible in the darktime."
you: "haha, no no really why?"
stripey: "the.....cushioning.....system....is......better"

so what were you really expecting? here is the problem. why did the marvels of Footlocker headoffice decide to have their employees decked out in referee uniforms? do they actually think that they're tricking people into thinking that 'oh, they're wearing referee uniforms, they MUST know what they're talking about. it only makes logical sense'. do you as a consumer actually think that? i sincerley hope not friend. because YOU my friend would be a fool. and not just the regular kind. but really. why?

okay, i understand, its sports RELATED. but even REAL referees dont know anything about shoes or sports clothing for that matter-as far as i know. when was the last time you heard a referee discussing the latest footwear from Saucony? i never have, and i take the bus all the time. no sir. its stupid. retarded in fact.

thats issue one i suppose. there's more to explore im sure....

point 2 is short and sweet.....WHAT THE HELL IS E-TALK DAILY ON TV FOR? why do i care to hear about a CANADIAN SPIN on Hollywood? NOBODY CARES ABOUT CANADA IN HOLLYWOOD. they only see it as a cheap place to film movies. basically we are a third world country to them in the film industry. they use us like footlocker uses me. why do i care which celebrity ate where and what he had? and why do i care about what Nicole Kidman's Pool Guy has to say about her dieting habits? THIS SHOW SUCKS. ITS HORRIBLE. THE HOSTS ARE LOSERS. THE GIRL USES THE WORD 'DEETS' INSTEAD OF SAYING 'DETAILS'. WHO SAYS THAT? IS THAT A CANADIAN WORD? 'DEETS'? IF IT IS, I RENOUNCE MY ADOPTED HOMELAND OF CANADA. I WANT NO PART OF A PLACE THAT SPAWNS WORDS LIKE 'DEETS'. all entertainment television is crap/garbage. but this show is horrible. its like the shoe that people only buy when its reduced to $9.99. and even then, its only the immigrants that buy it. its the last kid picked to play baseball at school, and he was only picked cause becky just had her first 'TIME OF THE MONTH'. its the bottom of the barrel, its the bottom of the last barrel. its the box that not even good enough for a homeless person to make a home out of. ITS CRAP!

and with that, im off.

feels good to get that off my chest.

hope you're all doing well. i just has some wings and they were hot! my tongue is numb.

shal

ill have the wine sauce. she'll have the leftovers.

hello civilians,

it is me again, the shal...or something like that...i dunno, im getting lazy and im running out of new monikers....no not the glass thing we brits wear on our eyes, THOSE are monacles. idiot. get a life.

HOWEVER, it seems that it is a time for a new ramble. im trying to make this a weekly thing since many of you have nothing better to do than read my emails and proceed to tell me how much you love them and wish that your kids would and could be as excellent in the field of bitching and complaining as i am.

so, check it out...i suppose this wont be another complaint but more like something we deal with often.

alright, you're walking downtown with your headphones cranked up to the maxx, you're bobbing your head to the cool tunes of Phillip Jigga or whatever group is happening that week, and as you turn the corner to get to your favorite Sock and Sack store you bump right into your buddy Hal. WOW, you havent seen Hal in ages...he was such a great guy. you guys used to hang out all the time, sharing jokes, problems, stories..all through high school. so you start chatting with Hal and you catch up qucikly, he has a new job and a steady girlfriend and they just moved in together...he has a nice apartment complete with a cat, refrigerator and BAD BREATH. damn, this guys breath is like something out of Evil Dead crawled down his mouth, died, came back to life, lived there for a while, died again, decomposed, came back to life and then moved out....but leaving a mayo, cheese, and ham sandwich behind. hasnt this guy heard of breath mints? hasnt this guy heard of locking himself up in a room with no windows? apparently not. but actually his breath isnt the issue here.....well sorta. its more of what is left....after the breath has hit you.

when you're faced with a bad smell, do you A) breath through your nose...or B) inhale through your mouth? im stuck with these issues. if i choose A, im stuck with the smell...and the possible trauma. if i choose B) im stuck with the question for the rest of the day, or at least until i swallow a vat of gasoline....does MY breath smell now? You've been there. You're walking through some underpass and BAM! you catch a wiff of someones use of the wall as a public toilet and the smell lingers...you breath in through your nose and the stank smell sears your nostrils....so forget that yo. but as you switch from mouth to nose you feel the relief of not smelling it, but worry about the effects it leaves on your mouth. will the next time you 'oral-lee exhale', in the company of your sweetheart, burn off his/her face? how are we to deal with this?

garbage trucks, littered alleyways, public restrooms, some people breaths, some peoples houses, some peoples cars, SOME PEOPLES....we're surrounded by it, we all deal with it on occasion. but HOW. HOW i ask. or maybe you never realised it....and now you do. and now you hate me and want to kill me for making your life that much more difficult. one more decision to make. well friend, im sorry. but now maybe you'll realise that the reason that your crush-who works at Miffy's Muffin Mayhem-turns red everytime you talk to them, not because she's shy around you....no, its because your breath smells like four week old hamchops. just maybe?

Its a tough issue. i hope that ive adressed it in the right manner. i wasnt sure where i was going with this one, but just be careful where you inhale i guess.

watching out for all y'all

shal aka shal aka shal

to please the masses. first i must please you(r mom).

hey, sup, whats up?, whattagwan?,

its damn late and im damn bored.. but yeah, i just felt like saying hello to the people. umm, perhaps you would like some information on my goings-on of the past while. well let me tell you that today i stubbed my toe on my desk and now it hurts. umm, i drank a coupel smirnoffs today. used the lavatory. hated hotmail for a while. used some moisturizer. why the fuck is the letter 'y' considered a vowel SOMETIMES? this is not make sense to me. why cant the world be satisfied that okay the word 'WHY' has no vowels and thats it. if im in a small room with ONLY indian people, can i all of a sudden decide that hey, i want to be black right now, or sometimes? not really. you would all think i was stupid and/or broken. so yeah i was wondering about that today. and also....where the fuck are the indian people bandaids? why are they all beige? WHITE PEOPLE ARENT EVEN BEIGE. and dont tell me about the clear ones, they dont solve the problem. i feel excluded. actually i wonder if in India the band aids are darker. do they even have band aids in India? do people cut themselves there? i dont know, ive never been.

oh well. i love most of you folk, if you're unsure if you're 'most of you folk'....well send cake.

why are these all repeats.....BECAUSE, you ass...you asked for it.

hello 'gain,

isnt life wonderful? you get sore-throats, but no damn cold. what a rip off. you only sound like an idiot, but you have nothing to back it up. nature is unfair at times.

alright, let me break it down for you...you go shopping and for some reason you find yourself in a sports store of some sort, i don't know.....footlocker maybe? ....but yeah, you're in a footlocker and you think to yourself, you know what, i really need a white-with-green-stripe generic footlocker brand headband for the times i play tennis with dan (tall dan?) (your friend from the 70s, who never really left the 70s and somehow grew a white-man-afro). so you pick one up and examine the packaging, you fiddle with the soft plastic wrapping, and wonder how it got in there since its a sealed package!! you step up to the counter and you say, 'hi, could i open this neat headband. i just want to make sure it fits?' and the cashier, who is excessively attractive and should be out working the runways, not milling about in a shoe store counting cash all day, turns to you and politely tells you that its ONE SIZE FITS ALL. So since you know nothing about sizing you decide that she must be right, that this one headband if produced in the millions, could satisfy the hungering headband masses of the world. damn, the ENTIRE POPULATION OF THE WORLD could be accessorised as hip as you. so you pay her and you leave, with your small headband in tow.....on your way out of the mall you call up Dan to let him know of this stellar headband and you both get excited and giggly like those damn Villa Maria girls on the metro....i know im hot, but im like 23 and i didnt wink at you you little tramp. so, you set up a tennis match at 4pm that day, and you're totally psyched cause you'll be able to sport that ONE SIZE FITS all headband. you get home and you rush to the door like you have to pee, but really its the excitement of being able to stretch open that plastic wrap and be able to hold that glorious headband in your soft but ample fingers. the (da) tension rises as you make your way up to you room and you close the door and you turn the blinds down and the lamp on and you sit yourself down on the bed.....your heart pumps faster and your fingers shake as you slowly pull the plastic off of the headband. the smell, the aroma of the new '98% cotton 2% rubber, exclusive of decoration' is enticing....finally you let he plastic fall to the floor and you get your hands on the headband.....amazing that one such small thing could get you more excited than thoughts of clam chowder, what a wonderous thing. without taking your eyes of the prize in your hands you make you way to the mirror and you seat yourself in your sexiest tennis position... and you raise the headband and stretch it out and slide it onto your head...you wet yourself a little......and then just as if someone pulled away your plate of saved-till-the-end-bacon......the pleasure is drained away. the damn thing doesnt fit. the girl at the counter lied to you. you trusted her. you look into the mirror, and where once a tennis-pimp looked back, sits now a fool, a tennis-fool. ONE SIZE FITS ALL or OSFA if you prefer, what a scam that is,and you fell for it. you're a sucker, NO, a sucka. get out of my face sucka-man.

MY QUESTION TO YOU ALL IS, why do they have these ONE SIZE FITS ALL (une grandeur fits tout) products? they dont really help anyone. they confuse and mislead the clientelle. do they not? and then, if the companies are so adamant about having these items available, why dont other companies adopt similar ideas and incorporate them into their own products? why does there not exist a 52 inch widescreen ONE SIZE FITS ALL television or why dont we have OSFA running shoes? ill tell you why, because everyone has different size houses and living rooms, and all our feet are different sizes and and because OSFA products are stupid. why does that make other body parts different, the last time i checked, we all have heads of varying sizes, hands too. a small side not...if i sewed together two headbands, would that make it TWO SIZE FITS ALL? MORE THAN ALL? DOUBLE ALL? interesting quandry. i will now retire to the toilet room and ponder the above.

Wants, anyone?

yeah you probably already done read this. so read it again.......now, lets get started here....you go shopping and such and you find a shirt that would go dynamite with your pale purple corduroy pants. so you're all happy and stuff, you're looking through the rack and you grab a medium and a large. you turn around and find you've been spotted by 'x' sales woman. so she gets you a change room (or dressing room) and you jump into that shirt like there is no tomorrow. damn, the medium is too small, not bad if you like that 'busting-out-of-my-shirt-italain' look. you slide on the large and its too loose, again not bad if you like that 'skinny-midget-shopping-in-the-tall-persons-condom-aisle'. since neither of these styles is mine, i find that im presented with a problem-i am cursed with the Extra-Medium body type. i know there are many out there with me. sure they have the extra small, small, medium, large, extra large, double extra large....even triple extra large. my question to you all is WHERE IS THE EXTRA MEDIUM? i need it, you need it, david duchovny of the x-files and various early nineties softcore porn needs it.

As You Know.....

so friends, as you know i've been sexing your inboxes with various forms of emails. so, with the help of the woo, i have discovered the joy of the blog. fantastic i know. now you'll be able to come here whenever you want and see just what shal is up to. and maybe find out whats going on in his crazy indian head-besides thoughts of your moms. the first few entries here will be old ones, but thats only because i need to share with the 'internet' community. so here we go. enjoy. and bring me cake.