Interview Alert

Today I was interviewed by Mark Goren, friend, co-worker and owner of Planting Seeds. 

You can read the entire interview here...

Just so you know

This site is being repaired or reconstructed or renovated. 

Whatever you want to call it, I'm trying to make it look a little more presentable in case Oprah, or Heidi Klum happens upon it. After all, I wouldn't want to hurt my chances of having someone important discover me just because my website looks like it was designed by a guy in prison. 

For the record, it was designed by a guy in prison (not me, my cellmate) but that shouldn't colour your opinion of it's quality. Feel free to look around and help yourself to anything in the fridge. Except the beer. That's mine. And please... leave a comment or two. It's the polite thing to do.

Visualizing success

Motivational speakers believe that a sure way to become successful is to visualize your success before it actually happens, so now, every night as my head hits the pillow, I close my eyes and imagine what my life will be like when this book gets picked up by a publisher, endorsed by Oprah and sells hundreds, if not thousands of copies. 

 

I am ready for that kind of fame.

I read once that Jim Carrey wrote himself a cheque for one million dollars before he became famous, visualizing the day he would cash it.  Ripping a page from his book, I have tattooed a bar code on my buttocks that rings up a total of two million dollars and seventy -five cents when you scan it. This simple, yet painful procedure decreased my net worth by $100 but has increased my self-worth by much more. I have yet to figure out how I will cash my ass in but that's a detail I can work out later.

I have also begun visualizing beyond the apex of my celebrity when I am washed up and nothing more than a footnote in annals of entertainment history. 

For instance, right now I see me entering rehab for the fourth time, scowling at the paparazzi who clamor over themselves to get a shot of my crotch as I exit the taxi cab. 

I also see me leaving the rehab center the very next day proudly telling the press that I am cured of my addiction to pop tarts. I do admit that there is still work to do on my obsession with porn and affinity for crack but, c'mon man.... one crisis at a time. 

I see me writing a book about these struggles being careful to leave out the part of my life where I sat in exile with a trio of glaze-addicted midgets who were protesting the destruction of another Krispy Kreme (too traumatic, plus the little ones need their privacy).

But most of all, I see me on the cover of Time magazine, voted transvestite of the year after an epic selection process in which I narrowly beat out Paris Hilton and Clay Aiken for the coveted award.  The ensuing controversy that happens after judges discover I am not a transvestite but just "some guy wearing his Mother's dress" creates serious controversy and earns the attention of Hollywood heavyweight, Martin Scorcese, who casts me in his next picture, taking me from washed-up writer to has-been actor overnight.

What more can anyone ask for?

Hats off!

After yesterday's shoe-throwing incident in Iraq, I got to thinking that if this writing thing doesn't work out, maybe there's an opportunity to train Iraqi journalists in the art of rifling articles of clothing - a sort of fashion firing range catering to disgruntled reporters who are destined to come face to face with visiting heads of state. 

Clearly, Iraqi television journalist, Muntazer al-Zaidi could have used a few lessons before the incident. Unfortunately, now he'll go down in history as the guy with the bad aim. 

Hindsight being what it is, I see that his lack of precision was just a symptom for a bigger problem. The fact is, his inability to lock on his target was actually caused by many factors, not the least of which was shoe weight. After studying the video for the last 16 hours, it appears to me that Mr Zaidi wore a size 11 shoe. As someone who has spent the better part of his adult life throwing things, I can say with first-hand authority that a size 11 shoe is far too large. In fact, the circumference of the large sole creates a disparity between the friction generated by the hand and the air surface it is traveling through leading to a uneven flight pattern. 

In short, he would have been much more successful had he scaled down to a size 9 or 9 1/2 at most. A woman's high heel shoe would have been good too. If it were red even better (maximum dramatic effect).

For future consideration, shirts are never good for throwing because they almost always parachute open never reaching their intended destination. They're also not very threatening. 

Few would argue that the best article of clothing for this sort of activity is the Bolo hat with steel rim as depicted in the James Bond movie Goldfinger. Unfortunately, those are hard to find. Although I may consider throwing in a free Bolo hat with every paid tuition just to boost enrollment.  

R.I.P.

Now that Joe the Plumber has a book coming out, I think I can finally put an end to this year-long dream of having my manuscript published. If an unlicensed, tax-evading, toilet dwelling bald guy takes precedence in the publishing world over me, an unemployed, alien-evading, rehab dwelling writer-guy, what hope is there?

On the surface, I have done everything right. I have learned a new word every day to improve my vocabulation (today it was ‘alas’). I have consumed enough alcohol to develop a level of cirrhosis that rivals history’s best writers. And I have even gone thong-less for 27 days straight in the hopes that renegade paparazzi would capture my “talent” and publish my exploits in Writer Monthly creating the kind of buzz that would make cash registers sing.

 But alas, it was all for nothing.

It seems as if publishers would rather hear about the trials and tribulations of cloggy u-pipes than the intrigue and excitement of mannequin stalking.

 What gives?

What do I have to do to get noticed? Do I have to start wearing my fuzzy Alf fanny pack again? Do I need to exchange my plastic I Dream of Jeannie slippers for something less comfortable but more conservative?  If you think having incompatible nipple colours would be enough in this day and age to set you apart from the crowd, think again.

If I owned luggage, I’d pack my bags and pursue my dream of becoming the world’s first pregnant man. What? Thomas Beatie did that already. 

Damn! One more dream that has  twirled down the drain of life.

Not President-Elect Terrence Paquet

Now that the proverbial dust has settled from the recent U.S. elections and Barack Obama has won the coveted prize, I have a bit more time to reflect on my own failed efforts to become the President of the United States. 

In hindsight, I guess there were many things I would have done differently; not the least of which is wear pants for the ENTIRE campaign and not just those moments when I felt the chilly outdoor temperatures would compromise the integrity of my "running mate".

I suppose the fact that I'm Canadian was a problem for some voters, but if an African -American can hold office, why not me, a crack-addicted, pop-tart-eating, welfare recipient hiding in the basement of ammunition store wearing a plastic Woody Woodpecker puppet on his privates and a cardboard Burger King crown on his head? Perhaps I overestimated the appeal of retro-marionettes and cutting-edge style in both the red and blue states.

Looking back, I also think I should have spoke English to potential voters. Maybe they would have understood what I was trying to say.  However, in my defense, I thought Aramaic would have appealed to all those religious folks that paid 10 bucks to see the Passion of the Christ.  Boy, was I ever D'+aLeM!

Finally, my campaign slogan could have used the skills of a good writer too. Apparently "Hopefully, I'll be able to" just doesn't have the same magic as Yes We Can. 

Live and learn I say.