Wednesday, February 13th, 2013
Hey there amigos. So, if you follow me on Twitter (or unfollow me due to me tweeting about doing anything exciting, as the case may be) you’ll know that I’m currently in New York for a couple of days. Adidas have launched a new running shoe called Boost and they invited me along to the global launch today in Manhattan to see what all the hype is about. And let me tell ya, it’s like being slapped in the face with technology. There’s a whole lot going on in that shoe. Yohan Blake and Hailie Gebrselassie were there, as were Rosario Dawson and that chick who plays the wife in Homeland (which, hello, total girl crush. Also, I rate anyone who rocks up to an Adidas launch wearing thigh-high high-heel boots).
Right, I’m off to Madison Square Garden to watch the Knicks. Byyyyyeeeee!
Wednesday, November 7th, 2012
Last week, amid all the Hurricane Sandy madness, I flew out to New York. The trip had been in the planning for a few weeks – Nike were flying myself and a few members of Run Dem Crew out and doing some events around the New York City Marathon – but obviously, when Sandy hit, everything was up in the air. We didn’t get word that the trip was definitely on til 9:30pm on Wednesday night and we were on a flight at lunchtime on Thursday. Not really sure what we’d be arriving to see, anticipation built on the flight.
Wednesday, August 8th, 2012
I’m not really one for TV. Unless it’s Mad Men, Girls or The Wire, I find most things to be a bit ‘meh’. Documentaries however, I love me a good documentary. I’ve recently had, what basically amounts to a film festival in my house – with my own private screenings of some wonderful docs. Some I’ve watched for the first time, some are old favourites that I watch fairly regularly for inspiration and because I’m such a giver, I thought I’d share with you my top 10. Check ‘em out…
Tags: A Tribe Called Quest, Adrian Grenier, Beats Rhymes and Life, Being Elmo, Bill Cunningham, catfish, documentaries, Film, Inside Job, Michael Rapaport, Mike Tyson, Miss Representation, new york, Orthodox Stance, Public Speaking, Teenage Paparazzo
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Monday, May 28th, 2012
Jay-Z said it best when he said ‘I’m a Hustler Baby, I just want you to know, it ain’t where I been, it’s where I’m ’bout to go.’ Preach on Hova, preach on. I’m a big believer in learning from your past, moving on and doing your best to make things happen for yourself. Through my various mistakes, I’ve learned that sitting around waiting for things to happen or for people to give you a break is generally not the best approach to life. The only thing for it is to hustle. Go after what you want and be proactive.
Thursday, April 7th, 2011
One of the first things I packed for my recent trip to New York was my running gear. There was no way I was gonna let five days go by without a good run. When I lived in New York, I was eating a whole hell of a lot and the couch was my best friend – so I was looking forward to running its streets and seeing them in a new light. I was lucky enough to hook up with a cool crew called Bridge Runners (kind of like a New York version of Run Dem Crew) – a cool collective of creative, like-minded runner peeps and they took me on one hell of a run.
Tuesday, April 5th, 2011
Yesterday, I wrote about my recent vacation to New York and what I got up to and made a passing mention about this trip feeling somewhat different for me. I couldn’t put my finger on what it was, this weird feeling of something not being quite right, pretty much until the end of the trip. Only then did I realise…New York is over.
Monday, April 4th, 2011
As you know, I spent last week in New York to celebrate my 30th birthday. I lived there for a year and a half when I was 22/23 and have spent most of my birthdays there since. It always felt like a bit of a homecoming whenever I went, but this time felt different, for reasons I’ll get in another blog post, but firstly, I thought I’d tell you about what I got up to while I was there.
Thursday, November 25th, 2010
Have you ever had the misfortune of being flashed by some creepy weirdo on the train? In an alleyway? On the street? If you have, you know the helpless, horrible feeling of not knowing what to do, if it’s worth saying anything and just the general befuddlement of why anyone would do such a thing anyway. What kind of kicks does a guy get from flashing his wang at an unsuspecting stranger? It says a lot about the male ego that these idiots flatter themselves into thinking anyone is even remotely interested in seeing their package.
So, enter my hero. You may have seen this video crop up on YouTube this week of a woman expressing her disgust having just been flashed by the creepy, guilty looking dude standing in front of her.
Can we all just take a moment to give this woman a standing frikkin’ ovation? She did what so many women have been afraid to do. She spoke up. Loudly. Without apology or fear. She probably wasn’t thinking how inspiring this moment would be to others, or the wonderful example she has set, but for that, I thank her. As a woman who was victim to a rather scary incident of flashing, also on the New York subway (which is apparently the capital of Pervert-ville), I wish I’d have had this woman’s courage. I was 23, by myself and I was stupidly getting the train home at 2am. A young guy came through my carriage with a bunch of friends, stopped in front of me, pulled his pants down and proudly displayed his penis as his friends surrounded me leaving me with no escape. He probably stood there for 15 seconds, but it felt like an hour. There were other people in the carriage. They watched what was happening. No one said anything.
The person I am today would do exactly what that woman in the YouTube clip did. I’d pull the emergency chord and I’d be loud and draw attention to what that perverted freak just did. No one has the right to do that to me. I don’t care if he touched me or not. It’s a violation and it’s unacceptable.
I feel even more compelled to do that after reading this article which explains that the above YouTube video got a lot of referrals from a site called dickflash.com, a delightfully seedy corner of the internet for ‘exhibitionists’. Yes, they have their own site, just as plenty of other sick men with sexual perversions do, to share their seedy little lives with each other. The comments posted in response to this video on dickflash.com included: ‘She should be thankful he flashed his dick at her,’ ‘I would rape the fuck out of that noisy bitch,’ ‘She’s not upset about the flash, she’s upset she hasn’t been laid in two years.’ Others lament at the silliness of these men choosing to flash in crowded public places, when they should obviously strike when a woman is alone and vulnerable and easier to attack. Silly, silly flashers.
What comes across in the comments is that it’s actually all the women’s fault. We’re uptight, we haven’t been laid, we should be thankful they flashed us, we’re more likely to react loudly on a train because we’ll feel more ‘comfortable’ as others are there, rather than if they corner us alone.
Well yes, you ignorant, perverted prick (pun intended), we sure do feel the need to get loud because we’re more ‘comfortable’ in a crowded place. Maybe it’s because people will listen to us. People will see the relentless stream of bullshit that we are often subjected to by idiots such as yourself who think you’re doing womankind a favour by flashing us your privates. So many women suffer in silence, freeze when it happens to them, not knowing what to do. I hope more women get loud, get in your face and most of all, get video of you and post it all over YouTube, assholes!
Ladies please, if this ever happens to you, take a leaf from our red headed hero up there and shout about it.
Wednesday, March 4th, 2009
So, I know it’s a recession and all, but cheapness is not an attractive quality. Don’t get me wrong, everyone watches their pennies, but you don’t need to constantly bring up how broke you are at every available opportunity.
I really have issue with people who are cheap for no reason though. Take my boss for example. That man pulls in some decent figures, much more than me, that’s for sure. Something I noticed when I started working there is that he never takes lunch.
At first I thought it was because he was a hard worker. Then I just thought it was strange that any man could make it through an entire working day without so much as a cracker. Over time I noticed, there were rare occasions when he would eat. I put two and two together and noticed that those occasions were when the meals could be expensed: a breakfast meeting here, a lunch there. So, maybe once or twice a month, this guy will eat during the day. He’s starving himself damnit! And all in the name saving a buck. That is some shameful shit.
I don’t know how he does it. That takes commitment. I’ll get woozy around two o’clock if I haven’t eaten.
I remember once, when I lived in New York, I once went three days without food. It was not by choice. I was broke and unemployed. And you know, apparently spending all my money on fly ass L.A.M.B trench coats. I survived on a jar of peanut butter. Hard times! I managed to scrape together ten bucks after a few days, took myself to the Olive Garden for the soup, salad and breadsticks deal and let me tell you, that shit never tasted so good. I had the waiter sending breadsticks out to me on a conveyer belt. I shut that restaurant down. They practically had to wheel me out of there. I spent the rest of the day walking that epic meal off.
During that meal, I said to myself ‘man, when I have a job and am not basically the flyest-almost-homeless person in the tri-state area, never again will I go without food and have to sit through the shame of dining at The Olive Garden.’ And you know what kids, I have not had to survive for three days on a jar of peanut butter or go to a shitty all you can eat lunch special since then.
My point being, I was on the peanut butter diet because I had to be. I had no choice. My boss has a choice, has money and chooses not to eat because he’s probably one of the cheapest men to ever roam the earth. I pity the fool that marries that man. She can expect to go dutch on every meal for the rest of her life. That’s if he even takes her out to eat.
So, if you’re reading this and it’s about time for you to have a snack, go ahead and splurge. Don’t be a food scrooge.
Tuesday, March 3rd, 2009
My birthday is coming up. March 30th. I’ll give you a minute to go write that in your date book…….
OK. I only mention it because I just booked my flight to New York to celebrate me turning the big 2.8. I haven’t really done anything major for my birthdays the last few years, so this will be quite the event. I’ll be staying in the lovely Brooklyn (where Brooklyn at?! Sorry, just feel the need to say that whenever I say Brooklyn. Where Brooklyn at?! See?) with my fabulous friend Kumah, taking in a little West Side Story with Miss Jaded and just going with the flow of the city. It is highly likely I won’t want to leave, so if anyone would like to sponsor me for a visa while I’m down there, don’t be scared to help a friend in need.
Last year for my birthday, I was tucked up in bed, with some kleenex, drowning in my own mucous. My ex, who I was with at the time, was apparently out fucking half of Toronto. Good times. Methinks this year’s birthday bash will trump that, for sure.
When I turned 18, my friends threw me a surprise party, which wasn’t really a surprise because I knew all about it. Nice when someone gives enough of a crap about you to try though.
When I turned 21, I went to Miami. I got robbed twice in the space of 24 hours. Memorable? Yes. For all the wrong reasons.
Turning 25 in Tokyo was nice. Mainly because the Japanese are great gift givers. Technically, I wasn’t supposed to accept gifts from my students, but that got a big ‘Bitch please!’ from me, naturally.
How to celebrate one’s birthday is always a bit of a conundrum to me. It seems quite pretentious to organise a party for yourself and expect people to show up and celebrate you. But I’m nothing if not pretentious. Frankly, people should be celebrating me every day. I shouldn’t have to give out invitations with dates and times. I’m not above accepting gifts on a daily basis. I’m actually remarkably OK with that. And not just gifts. I accept cash, all major credit cards, gifts cards (to book or clothing stores. If you try to hit me with a a gift card for Home Depot, you will get a blank stare) and cheques (providing they don’t bounce).
Ohh, look out New York. I’m a-comin’. March 27th – 29th. Be there or be bitch slapped.