Top Secret Top Chef

Sometimes a secret is so good it’s hard to keep.

You know the kind: It’s so exciting it just begs to be spilled.

I’ve got one of those big burning secrets right now. And it’s a juicy one, let me tell you. Delicious, even.

Alas, I am a good secret-keeper and my lips will remain sealed. For a few months, at least.

The spicy secret in question stems from a top secret “Top Chef” filming that I may or may not have attended last night.

My story about it can be found here...

Is waterboarding the new S&M?

(Of course not.)

When I first saw this video, I wondered why Playboy was doing anything on waterboarding. I mean, really, what, oh what, could possibly be sexy about waterboarding?

I figured if anyone was going to find the sexy side of torture, it'd be the guys at Playboy.

Unfortunately, it would appear that there is absolutely nothing sexy about the practice. Call it torture, call it enhanced interrogation, call it whatever you want -- just don't ever call it remotely sexy.

Despite the lack of sex appeal, this video is still worth a watch. In it, the journalist volunteers to get waterboarded -- again, not the kind of WBing described on Urban Dictionary -- to see just how hardcore the technique is.

I've often wondered what it'd be like so it's neat to see someone else volunteer -- in this case, a grown man -- thinking they could take it, they literally tap out after just a few seconds.

iPhone ap used to design New Yorker cover

While New Yorker artist Bob Staake is still using Photoshop 3.0 (circa 1995, people!), another artist at my favorite publication, Jorge Colombo, recently created cover artwork using nothing but his iPhone.

Now how cool is that?

Granted, I still don't have an iPhone (I'm pretty sure my relic of a cameraless BlackBerry was manufactured during the Pleistocene era) but that doesn't mean I can't appreciate this, or the cool ap that Colombo used to create the design, Brushes.

The whole thing is made all the more cool when you consider how Brushes costs $5, unlike Photoshop, which costs a cool $299 for the consumer version.

OMG, TFLN... WTF?!

When I lived in Ausralia a few years ago, I didn't get it. Nobody called each other; everyone texted. It was so, so annoying.

But then it hit me. Or, should I say, bit me. And I've been texting ever since.

Fast forward a few years and everyone on this side of the pond is texting, too. And as text messages replace phone calls, good old fashioned drunk dialing is being replaced by what I call tipsy texting: text messaging friends, former lovers, current crushes and, at times, the wrong person altogether, when you're mildly-to-completely intoxicated.

Naturally, typos and innuendos abound. As do the laughs.

But unlike drunk dials, tipsy texts remain on the record, both on the sender's phone and on the recipient's handset. And online, too, thanks to the brilliant folks at Texts From Last Night.com.

The site lets you upload messages you sent or received and publishes only the area code.

Some of them are pretty funny. Others are raunchy. Most, however, are simply hilarious.

You can also sort by area code, allowing you to see what hijinks happened in your back yard the night before as you slept soundly and/or remained sober enough to avoid committing the same sort of faux-pas.

I find it curious that TFLN isn't bombarded with messages emanating from Vegas' area code, 702 -- but it's not the locals who misbehave, drink way too much at Rehab (ahem, Jeremy Shockey) and make fools of themselves.

Well, not usually, at least.

702, 212, 310, 202, 540... they're all on there. Heck, there might even be a 604, 204, 418, or, lord help us, 613 -- I haven't checked. But feel free to go have a look-see for yourself.

The site, again, is Texts From Last Night.com -- http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/ -- here's the link.

The 8 rings of Vegas Hell

This video is a must-watch for anyone who lives (or has lived, or, heck, has spent more than a weekend) in Vegas -- if you've gambled/partied/stayed at the Hard Rock especially.

(whomever wrote this sure hated the Hard Rock. For the record, I don't think the place is that bad -- this short just does a really good job of exploiting its cheesiest characteristics -- which, of course, aren't exclusive to HRH.)



The premise goes like this: Two friends decide to go to Vegas where they quickly find themselves sucked in by the douchebaggage emanating from the city's very core.

Armed with four talking sidekicks -- a condom, an obnoxious/ugly shirt, a cell phone and a money clip -- the guys have all they need. They hop a plane (modeled after Virgin's signature fleet of dance-dance-revolution/dance-dance-aeroplanos) and head to Sin City.

Once in sunny LV, they wear tacky shirts, party at tacky clubs, and -- lord have mercy -- go to the tackiest place in the entire cesspool: Rehab (The Hard Rock's pool party, not the self-help place; THIS rehab is as opposite of self-help as you can get... from what I understand, you have to be a straight-up masochist (or completely insane) to voluntarily go there.)

Needless to say, debauchery ensues: The guys do a few kilos of coke, sleep with a bimbo, and party with the devil.

At any rate, animation is great, the story is funny and you should totally check it out.

Enjoy.

Aaaaaall the single ladies...

Some days I feel more single than others, and while they're few and far between, some days I feel particularly, painfully single. On those days there's just a few things that make me feel fabulous: Sex and the City, a good workout, and really, really bad dance music. (not necessarily in that order.)

Naturally, no cheesy girlie playlist would be complete without Beyoncé's "Single Ladies."

(Hey, I tried to warn you.)

In case you live under a rock (or just have far better taste in music AND the ability to filter out this kind of mainstream garbage) the video for the song -- which, for the record, we heard played FIVE times at Moon this Valentine's Day, and we arrived at midnight -- is at the top.

Apparently I'm not alone in my love for this song. Or for the already-dated SNL parody of the music video, featuring Ms. Sasha Fierce herself, along with Justin Timberlake (who I actually have come to respect as a result of all his self-depreciating work on SNL); my non-romantic funny man crush, Andy Samberg, and the always enjoyable Bobby Moynihan.

The skit, which premiered on NBC back in November, was by far my favorite few minutes of SNL in a long, long time.

It parodies the Beyoncé's sexy video using leotarded-up Timberlake, Samberg and Moynihan in the place of the very sexy, very female back-up dancers in the actual video.

Naturally, hilarity ensues.

My favorite part:

"You boys warmed up?"
"Oh we're warmed up."
"We're warmed up like biscuits."
"Yeah, dance biscuits."

SNL Parody of "Single Ladies"

As luck would have it, I stumbled upon a few other "Single Ladies" parodies today while I was trotting though YouTube.

They include an Italian version featuring 22-year-old daughter, 42-year-old mother and 66-year-old grandmother; and a Dan Band parody (yet another gem from FunnyOrDie.com).

So to all the single ladies out there, enjoy.

And to all the single guys: enjoy the videos, too -- just remember not to take your girl for granted because before you know it, your fine-behinded version of Beyoncé might be on her way out the door, leaving you with nothing more than the chorus a-ringin' in your ears: "If you like it then you should've put a ring on it..."

"Uh-uh-oh, uh-uh-oh, uh-uh-oh, uh-uh-oh..."

;)

The Dan Band's take on "Single Ladies"

Mother-lover-hood: growing on me

At first I wasn't a fan but this clip featuring Justin Timberlake and Andy Samberg is growing on me. Also, the Susan-Sarandon-Rocks meter has reached an all-time high because of it.

Check it out:

Lego rock

Metallica rocks and so does Lego. Why it took this long to put two and two together is a mystery -- but better late than never.

PS- Is it just me or has Kirk Hammett put on weight?

PPS- James Hetfield sure is mellowing with age.

I get the best spam

I don't know what it is about me, but I always seem to find myself in the wrong target audiences.

Walking down The Strip, the "lady card" guys are always shoving their lady-covered cards at me.

Am I really their target market? Do the guys I walk next to look that gay? Or is it obvious that I wear the pants in the presumed relationship, and therefore, would be the one who would make the decision to, ahem, spice things up and give one of the ladies featured on the cards a call/try?

Whatever.

And I've already blogged about Facebook's stupid ad strategy.

Yet my e-mail spam also seems to have me confused for a guy. But unlike the hawkers' lady cards, the misguided spam I get makes me laugh. In fact -- and dare I say -- I both enjoy it and look forward to it.

Not that I'm looking to "keep (my) rod iron for hours," (iron-hard? maybe, but rod iron? No thanks.) "unleash (my) male power," or try some "free penis pills."

Some of them are downright hilarious. Some of the recent gems:
"Britney naked again!" (oh, no, not again...)
"Take this, my Don Juan, so your body won't let you down at hot rendezvous" (ooh! rendezvous! sounds classy...)
"The size of can of Coke -- believe us it's no joke. (it rhymes so it must me true.)

I swear I'm not making this up. Don't believe me? Check out the screen shot of my junk mail filter.

Bearded wonders

The 2009 NHL playoffs are in full swing and that means one thing: Playoff beards are out in full force and things are getting, well, hairy.

Granted, none of these guys have anything going on like a certain Perth third basemen did in 2007 (that we're aware of, at least) -- that's right, I'm talking about you, Scalabrini -- but that doesn't mean the Blackhawks' playoff beards aren't awesome.

See for yourself:

Tom Morello tweets smarter, not harder

THIS is why I love former Rage Against the Machine guitarist Tom Morello:

He's smart, political, and bold.

And he never takes the easy way out, either.

Oh, and he plays badass guitar, too. Right.

While he could use Twitter to tweet about his morning coffee (like Jane's Addiction guitarist Dave Navarro) or, better yet, give some tickets to away for some upcoming shows,* he doesn't. Instead, he uses his new Twitter account and subsequent feed to comment on society and point out how stupid and superficial the world can be -- and make all of his "followers" think, too.

Shameless plug of the day: I wrote a good story about Navarro's tweeting about a month ago. If you haven't already, read it by clicking here.

Morello is currently on tour with his new band, Street Sweeper Social Club, and will be in Vegas in a few days, at Wasted Space on Sunday and the Pearl on Monday.

(SSSC is opening for Nine Inch Nails and Jane's Addiction's current NINJA tour.)

Follow Morello on Twitter via tmorello; Navarro via davenavarro6767; Reznor via trent_reznor; and/or yours truly via marseniuk. And be sure to catch NINJA at the Pearl on Monday if you can -- it's shaping up to be a great show, despite Perry Farrell's calf injury.

* NIN's frontman, Trent Reznor, is an extremely tech-savvy member of Twitter nation, and has been giving away five tickets and backstage passes to any show in the U.S. every day for about a week now. Navarro gives tickets to shows away via Twitter, too, but only for shows that same night, and no backstage passes.

Jennie's a gun-toting PC

Oh, Funny Or Die, how I do love you so. I'd count the ways, but, well, I'm lazy and don't feel like taking off my shoes.

Still, my love for that site is true; almost as true as my love my work-issued Mac. (Not that I have against the iMac desktop I have at home.)

At any rate, here's a cute video from FOD about Jennie Pierson's quest for the perfect computer to have, hold, and love for all time. (Or the next 2-3 years, whatever.)

As Jenny finds, true compu-compatibility is hard to find.

While I don't agree with her chosen companion (a PC) I know we all can't love overpriced spaceship-like Macs.

Laptop Hunters: Jennie - watch more funny videos

Like a boss on a boat

Those of you who know me know I like to laugh.

Andy Samberg doesn't know me but he sure does know how to make me laugh.

Here are two oldie-but-goodies from Lonely Island to get your work week rollin': "Like a Boss" and "On a Boat."

"Like a Boss*" features two very funny -- and offensive -- dudes: Andy Samberg and Seth Rogan.

Caution: It's almost as catchy as it is funny. You might get it stuck in your head, and you might have to fight the urge to finish your sentences with "like a boss" after watching it.



"On a Boat**" is just as funny but not quite as vulgar. Basically it's just Andy on a boat*** with Akiva Schaffer and T-Pain.

I think I find it funnier than most people because this of this random dude I encountered at Lavo one night. His business card is hands down THE funniest one I've ever seen in my entire life (sorry I don't have it with me; I'd love to include a pic to show y'all just how glorious it is). At any rate, he added me on Facebook and I OK'd the request just because his FB profile pic (that's it, to the right) is of HIM on a BOAT -- and therefore solidified his spot as "cheesiest guy I've met in Vegas" -- and everyone knows Vegas is one of the cheesiest (while simultaneously coolest) places on Earth.

Hope you enjoy the video. As Schaffer says, "This isn't Seaworld, this is as real as it gets."

Other favorite moments include Samberg's mentioning of "flippy floppies" and Schaffer's dolphin-riding. The best line, though, goes to T-Pain: "Believe me when I say I fu©ked the mermaid."

Once again: Enjoy.



*course subject matter, language and images.
**course language.
***it's not a boat, it's a yacht.

Let them have cake...

A few months back my friend Chantal asked me to make the cake for her wedding.

Now I realize that it comes as a surprise to many of you that I actually know how to bake -- but I do, dammit. Had I ever worked with fondant icing before? No... and I had never made a tiered cake, either.

But I wasn't about to let such minor details get in the way.

I ordered the CakeLove cookbook, did some online research, watched a cake decorating video on YouTube, then gave it my best shot.

(Originally I told myself I'd do a few dry practice runs, but those never happened.)

Yes, there were a few anxious moments but after the smoke cleared (note: there was no actual smoke) the legions of doubters were ultimately silenced.

It wasn't perfect by any stretch of the imagination but have to admit the cake turned out pretty good: It was tasty as heck and didn't look like it had been hit by a bus or dropped from a third floor window, either.

In fact, my handiwork was even declared "best wedding cake ever" by a large and independent collection of unsolicited wedding-goers -- which made the whole process totally worth it.

If I was a cake inspector, I'd give it a 90%, or 4.5 stars out of a possible five, depending on the grading system.

Bill McConnell told me in 8th grade home ec that I'll "make a good woman some day." Well, if cake-baking is a requirement of said status, it appears that, at the ripe old age of 26, I may finally be on my way.

At any rate, here's the example that I modeled my design after (top left), the final product (bottom left), and plan B (the obvious right) which was ultimately deemed unnecessary:

I know I'm home when...

I'm home, i.e. in Canada, for a friend's wedding right now.

I often forget how different life in the U.S. is compared to what it's like back where I grew up. From the surface the two countries seem very similar but whenever I return home for a visit it never takes long before I'm be reminded of just how different the two countries are .

I'm not going to get all heavy on y'all but here are some of the lighter snapshots from my collection of recent "I know I'm home because..." moments:

1) The guy at the next car had "Superman's Dead" by Our Lady Peace playing on his car stereo. (It was a #1 hit when I was in high school.) Sure, it was probably the radio, but that makes it even more "I know I'm home because..." worthy.

2) My little brother had a hardcover book lying on his bedroom floor: "Winnipeg Jets: A celebration of professional hockey in Winnipeg."

3) It was 22 degrees today (that's, uh, 72 or so) but it might go down to -3 (26F) tomorrow night. Winnipeg is famous for 30 or 40-degree swings in temperature.

4) The street is dotted with recycling bins. Everyone recycles here, and recycling is picked up twice a week while trash only gets picked up once.

5) My mum asks if I'm hungry and assures me, "There are perogies in the fridge."

6) There's City Rye bread on the counter.

7) I walk into the house midway through the afternoon and TSN is on. And they're replaying last night's NHL playoff game.

8) TV commercials are more funny than they are annoying.

9) There's a Saturday morning cartoon show modeled after Bob and Doug MacKenzie a.k.a. the guys from "Strange Brew." Suddenly I have a reason to get up early on Saturday.

10) The tap water (literally) doesn't taste like crap.

11) The air smells like... air should.

12) The gas station sign reads $0.91 -- meaning per litre. (-re, not -er, people.) Sounds cheap but actually works out to $3.44 a gallon.

13) I catch myself talking funny, and not because I'm mispronouncing "out," "about," or "process," or saying "eh."

14) One of the speeches at the wedding I was at was interrupted so the person giving the speech could update the crowd with the latest NHL playoff scores.

15) On my way out of the hotel I passed two people. I knew one of them.

16) Someone asked my dad what his fax number is. He replied, "8674" and didn't need to provide any additional digits or dialing instructions.

Biggest fears of the littlest people

When I was little I was generally only scared of two things: vampires and aliens.

When the lights went out, however, my imagination would sometimes get the better of me.

I'd think there was something -- or someone -- lurking in the closet, or waiting for my tasty little foot to dangle off the edge of my bed.

While I don't have any tangible proof of these creepy creatures, there's no question they were, in fact, there. And waiting for me.

What's more, I swear to gawd there was something -- or, again, someone -- living under the creaky stairs at my grandparents house. I shuddered whenever I had to go downstairs to get something; every time I went I knew there was a chance I'd never get back.

Even today -- when I'm working late at night, especially -- I can get a little freaked out. I think I hear things, I think I can "feel" someone watching me through the windows, or from behind the door.

Did I just hear something?

Exactly.

But I digress.

I recently stumbled across a collection of beautiful pictures depicting common childhood fears: the boogie man under the bed, the monster behind the couch, the goblin under the stairs, and more.

The album can be found here courtesy of kontraband.co.uk.

So it turns out I WASN'T imagining it. Finally, after all these years, we have proof.

Thankfully, though, I managed to evade these bad buys as a little person and now I manage to scare them away on my [grown-up] own.

I could say something cute and cliché about grown-up fears being just as scary, but let's face it: The uncertain economy has nothing on the monster under your bed.

And I've seen far scarier things at the bar.

At least the boogie man has manners: Unlike Captain NoChance, he keeps his distance and doesn't talk your ear off or repeatedly try to buy you a drink.

New media 2.0: time-wasting d-bags

(thanks to TSoligo for this one)

Yuck yuck yuck.

Waking up in Vegas

I wake up in Vegas all the time.

OK, technically I wake up in Henderson -- maybe that explains it.

Either way, I can't help but notice my experiences are nothing like what's shown in the video for Katy Perry's latest god awful single, "Waking Up in Vegas."

While Perry and I both hail from Commonwealth countries, it's painfully obvious that we have nothing in common. Sure, the two of us have the same naughty bits, but that's where the similarities end.

For starters, I don't gamble. I haven't bet a dime since I got here and I don't plan to start throwing my hard-earned money away any time soon.

Perhaps that's why, unlike Perry, I don't often hang out in the high roller suites at the Palms.

And unlike Perry (and Britney Spears and all the rest) I have yet to walk down the aisle here in Sin City. Or anywhere, for that matter. Hell, I haven't even been engaged... Yet. You never know what tomorrow might hold. Or tonight, for that matter -- this is Vegas, after all. Call me optimistic; I call myself romantic. But I digress.

Like the British pop tart, I've been to Fremont many times. But whenever I go it's hillbilly central, not some splashy, flashy scene where elephants and fire-breathers run wild. (Let's face it: the Griffin and DCR are more my speed; even Beauty Bar is too hip for me sometimes.)

I admit, I've done a lot of wacky stuff downtown, but unlike Katy, I've never made out with some guy in a phone booth while dollar bills swirl through the air.

Or made out in a phone booth at all, come to think of it.

Wait. Does Vegas even have public phone booths? I don't think I've seen any. Hmm. Perhaps I should find one; they look like a good time.

At any rate, here's Perry's new video. Turn the sound off and enjoy the all the Vegasisms, including Penn and Teller's cameos.

Does this make me a feminist?

I found this ad simultaneously offensive and arousing.

One one hand, I think it's aggressive, sexist and just plain wrong. Violent, even. One might argue that it borders on sexual harassment.

But the other part of me thinks it's damn sexy.

After thinking about it for a few minutes, I wondered: Have I really been desensitized to the point where I don't find such a blatant display of predatory male dominance totally disgusting?

Apparently I have.

There is no, no, no way an ad like this would fly back home; people would be protesting in the streets and demanding it be removed. But not in Vegas, no sir. Instead, it's par for the course. Just another day on The Strip.

I'm still not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing.

A combination of curiosity and convenience led me to investigate this a little further. That's right, I actually went to this event earlier this week.

I wore pants.

I wasn't sure what to expect, a crowd of half-drunk mid-career professionals talking inappropriately after a few too many Manhattans; a herd of suits with a sprinkling of Samantha Jones-style man eaters here and there; or something altogether different?

Surprisingly -- and thankfully -- it was a very respectable event. The crowd was small, reserved, and responsible. People were drinking tea. No one called me "tutz" or "doll." And there was no grabbing of anyone's goods.

There were, however, very few women in attendance -- and of the few who were there, none were wearing fishnets.

Personally, I was relieved -- though I'm sure the same can't be said for all of the men in attendance.

I'm sure some of them were ready to file a complaint citing false advertising.

This is why gawd (er, Steve Chen, Chad Hurley and Jawed Karim) invented YouTube

It's been a long week. Happy Friday, everyone.