Tuesday, September 8th. The day when all of Toronto crawls painfully out of bed to get the crusty kids to school, crusty husband/wife to their jobs, and crusty selves to their own. The only people that didn’t seem crusty on Tuesday were the folks at Citytv. That’s because they’d just moved into their new building:

The Citytv crew made a big to-do about how the station would now be in the actual heart of the city. They’re probably right, but I suspect they just wanted to be closer to my place. Either way, it was a wise decision.

The move has been in the works for about two years. Gord Martineau, Citytv’s sneering six o’clock news anchor, has pitilessly plugged his involvement in the move stating that he was the one who brought up the idea with boss Ted Rogers, the guy who owns every co-ax cable in Toronto (and then some).

The building itself was an Olympics-themed tourist attraction for a couple of years, hence the big cone-torch thingie at the top. Aside from the pleasantly phallic symbolism (granted, a horribly deformed phallus), the building also forms an interesting arch over the intersection of Victoria and Dundas. Streetcar tracks go through the arch but there are no open power lines, probably because the construction workers were afraid of electrocution. Babies. Anyway, I’m certain that once they open it up it’ll make for a great place to throw back a couple of swigs of paper-bagged hooch, away from scornful eyes.

But Gord’s masturbatory visions weren’t the only things making headlines on Tuesday. U. of T. and York U. put their first-year students through the wash for the first day of frosh week:

All the noobs were baptized in the waters of City Hall with a ritual involving a Kindergarten-style initiation. A girl on a megaphone shouted out some rhyming instructions with all the students acting out the directions while repeating what she said. The Universities were only mentioned a couple of times during the chanting; they spent more time pretending to be alligators, crabs, and sleeping monkeys. Hurray for our future workforce!

What a time to lose my internet connection! And with TIFF coming up ‘n all:

Couldn’t have come at a worse time. Despite George Clooney and I being best buds, I doubt he’ll postpone his arrival for my technical difficulties.  I bet he’s disappointed.

Sorry, George. You’ll have to takeit up with my ISP. I tried and I guess I’m just not famous enough.

Last night at around ten o’clock I switched to CFMT (OMNI) to try to fill in a commercial break on the other channel with the Simpsons. I find the colours pleasantly distracting.

Unfortunately, they were also on an ad break, but one that made me want to stay and watch further.

It was composed of these strange little mini commercials that ran for only about ten seconds and featured relatively obscure products.

The first was for Perspirex, an industrial-strength antiperspirant,  “Available at Shoppers Drug Mart“. It features an attractively nondescript young lady in a green top out on a date with…? She reaches for a flirty lock of her hair through which to run her fingers when she spots a big ole’ pitter soaking her shirt. Smile of delight one instant, dropped jaw of disbelief the next.

Bam! Perspirex gets rid of that wetness and smell. Lady’s happy and she’s now letting the whole room get a good gander at her moisture-free underarms. Available at Shoppers Drug Mart.

Yep. If that sounded a bit awkward, imagine what the commercial was like.

Next one: “As a model, I can’t be seen with embarrassing bumps on my bikini line.” Swimsuit model at a photo shoot, at times strangely aware of the TV audience watching her. Shot of smooth crotch in frilly lingerie.

Bikini Zone Cream: Stop Bikini Area Irritation Fast

…more sundry crotch shots, all with nary an imperfection.

Like I said, these commercials are really short. There isn’t even enough time to write complete sentences to describe them.

Sudden cut to three ladies’ legs on a sidewalk, one wearing galoshes and the two flanking her in strappy heels. Seems the poor girl’s hiding her feet in them big old boots ‘cuz she has an issue with dry, cracked feet. Well, dontcha know that Flexitol Heel Balm will fix that right up!

Now our girl’s just disembarked from a city bus and she’s in heels, smiling and pointing to her attractive new foot, as we are all wont to do.

Well, now wasn’t that something?

They were clearly targeting the ladies. Every commerciallette featured women exclusively. One of the products, the bump creme, seemed particularly unsuitable for most men. I guess, also, the “bikini” part of the product seemed somewhat feminine.

Okay, so they want women to use these products; women who must have fairly extreme sweat problems, itchy crotches, and abrasive, possibly bleeding feet.

The ads are just too similar, short, and tightly cut. What should have been three ads became one perturbing ad targeting a clientele with some disturbing medical conditions. Alone, each symptom is trivial, but together…forget about dinner and lingerie modeling; get your ass to a doctor, pronto!

Or maybe I shouldn’t think that deeply into it.

Wait. Isn’t that what they did at the ad agency that created this TV spot?

Available at Shoppers Drug Mart.

As they set up to shoot the night scenes for “The Bridge” (a police biopic, I discovered), I took the opportunity of snapping a few photos of the outdoor set. This is the only one that didn’t feature one or another person’s ass:

Aside from the doily on top, I’m sure they chose this house because of its age.  It’s probably the oldest on the block, though there are numerous contenders for that honour in the neighbourhood.

My own apartment building is an old-style house not unlike the one pictured here, only wider (to accommodate ten apartments), and minus the personality.

It’s, let’s say, quaint. It feels warm and comfortable like my previous residence in rural Pickering in the same way that an old sock does. That smell of feet never really airs out and it’s drafty around the toes, but man it’s comfortable.

In the context of my neighbourhood, I think that my place is probably mid-range (price, size, etc.) A tall apartment building directly to the left of the “Bridge” house would be best described by the words “swollen” and “hovel”. If I were an upwardly-mobile young crack whore, I’d be setting my sights here. A little paint, some vacuuming, and that stank of bitter, life-ending self loathing comes right out.

But there are also places with “ROB THIS HOUSE” posted on every inch of the property; multi-million dollar reno jobs spilling over with gaudy fountains, ostentatious statuary, and semi-circular driveways on properties not more than eight meters (twenty-six feet) wide. They’re clearly just for show. Or clown cars.

Stuck between Casa di Rockbottom and the House of Betterthanyou are numerous alleys where the destitute make their home. Here, property boundaries are divided into areas for disposed bottle caps, areas for disposed Listerine bottles to which those caps belonged, and areas for inebriated homeless guys with sparklingly fresh breath who had recently consumed said bottles of Listerine.

I’m telling you, my neighbourhood’s a panoply of colour!

Unfortunately, the drafty window in my bedroom played a part in my decision to start looking for a new place. Well, that and the fact that the German superintendent is leaving soon. Who knew Germans could be so non-genocidal?

Now, I haven’t actually started looking so the ultimate decision about whether or not to move isn’t available. But I thought, if I’m out there looking through other peoples’ places; going through their medicine cabinets; stealing anything I may enjoy on my own shelves; why not take the readers of TCL along?

If you’re thinking of moving to urban Toronto or just enjoy descriptions of interesting smells, perhaps you may get something out of the series. It won’t be regular or anything, but I will try my damnedest to divulge the disturbing/kinky/amusing secrets of the places I visit.

index fingers out-apart-down-together-snap-sville. Dig?

I feel like I’ve discovered a bewitching new world right where my TV monitor used to be. In the same sense as car crashes or deformed kittens are so damn compelling, local access cable offers a dizzying variety of shows that make looking away impossible.

I just want to point out, right up front, that this is neither moaning, bitching, nor complaining. I watch enough dreck that tries to pass itself off as entertainment that, production values aside, local cable is a comparative gleaming jewel.

I mean, there’s absolutely no pretense here.  These folks know that their audience is extremely limited so their shows have a real laissez-faire atmosphere. During weekdays, some of these shows must skim dangerously low over the ratings plains. The effort matches the budget, matches the content, [unfairly] matches audience numbers.

Yet, despite these seeming obstacles, we find encapsulated in each frozen frame a vast, endless realm of entertainment. Kind of like a heavy acid trip.

… Continue Reading