Menage A Moi

Menage A Moi
written by Ryan Matthew Ewing
(If you like the song, buy the album on iTunes)

She's still delicate
I'm her degenerate
She hurries up and makes me wait
She's so funky, yeah
I'm so her junkie, yeah
She's the master and the bait

Menage a moi, all alone in the room
Yeah, me, myself, and I - and we're thinking of you
Menage a moi, baby if you presume
Menage a moi, take away my blues

Damnit so denied
She makes me suicide
A little pleasure with the pain
She gimme temperature
She's my new venture
And when she smirks I go insane

Menage a moi, all alone in the room
Yeah, me, myself, and I - and we're thinking of you
Menage a moi, baby if you presume
Menage a moi, take away my blues

My mama told me that I'd meet a girl like you
But nobody ever said what you'd put me through
So I'll just close my eyes until the day you see
And I'll see your face
Oh again, and again, and again, and again, and again

She's still delicate
I'm just a pirate
She hurries up and makes me wait

Menage a moi, all alone in the room
Yeah, me, myself, and I - and we're thinking of you
Menage a moi, baby if you presume
Menage a moi, take away my blues

A little heavy petting never hurt anyone
Just put out what you're getting and never hurt anyone
Just some fun in the sun
And never hurt anyone, no no

She always scream n' shout
So I took her sister out
She told me I could go and fuck myself

CD single artwork from 2012

Hi, My Name Is Ryan

Hi, My Name Is Ryan
written by Ryan Matthew Ewing
(from the album, Friggidy Ding-Dong)

Hi, my name is Ryan
Got one birthday on August thirteen
Wickedest hair like you never did seen
Everything I own is covered in pink
And when I eat garlic I surely do stink
I cheer for the Bruins - I cheer for the Sox
Twice in my life I had the chicken pox
The weirdest thing that ever came about
Was when my penis turned inside out

Watch Full House almost every night
Don't drink any beer that claims to be light
Regular subscriber to the Hanson website
Like my coffee to be blacker than night
Can't seem to beat Scott in Monopoly
Ashamed to admit I like Superman III
Never put the seat down when I'm done going wee
Yeah not by the hair on my go-go-goatee

Hi, My Name Is Ryan
Can beat Super Mario in twenty minutes flat
Up until sixteen was pretty darn fat
My best friend in the world is my cat
Paint my toenails black, now what you think about that?

Hi, My Name Is Ryan
Got a swell Fan Club you should join today
Had a crush on Stephanie no DJ
Born and raised in Canada eh
My eyes go from blue to green to grey
Play road hockey 'cause I never learned to skate
Once was seven but then I turned eight
Don't know what it's like to menstruate
Met my wife when she was still jailbait

Got weird eyebrows that go up and down
Once tried to pick up a birthday clown
Spend my summers chillin' downtown
Go to BK and wear the crown
Study Mr. T's "Be Somebody or Be Somebody's Fool"
You know that ain't me
Giving out buttons for the RFC
Put my face on your thong like 1-2-3

Dearly beloved
We are gathered here today
To eat Ryan's patented fried rice

Watched Rocky IV once three times in a row
Dressed up like a lady in a high school show
Can't walk ten feet without saying 'hello"
Jealous of Joey Lawrence's "Whoa"

Hi, My Name Is Ryan
Got a scar on my hand from a dogbite
Gonna look at girly mags until I lose my sight
If Rick Astley is wrong I don't wanna be right
And I'll sniff my Vick's all thru the night
Oh yeah man
Just cause a monkey's got a bloody nose
Doesn't mean the circus isn't in town
Hi, My name is...

Newzinetter #11

Check out Newzinetter #11!
For a high-res version you can print off, make sure to hit up www.ryanfanclub.com

This month: 

• Yo Ryan! What's Been Goin' On?
• Top 11 Retitled Arnold Movies
• Review of some random rock n' roll comics
• Autoryography Chapter 93: my first visit to Swiss Chalet
• PinterRyan Recipe - meat sandwich
• #1 Fan of the month - Sheona
• and more!!!!!

Tanner Claus Is Coming To Town?

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the place
Ozma, my cat, was giving a chase;
The stockings were hung by the gawdy green tree
In hopes that we'd be visited by Uncle Jesse;
The bottle of white wine was nearly all done,
While visions of "Full House" played in re-run;
And Dana in her jammies, and I my pink shoes
Had just realized we were all out of booze,
When out of nowhere there arose such a noise
I then thought the cat had knocked over my toys
When, what to my wondering eyes should be seen
But Danny Tanner, whose jokes were not clean
With a friend saying "Cut it out" on the phone
I knew in a moment it was Joey Gladstone.
The Tanner family had finally came,
And they hugged and laughed and called out their names;
"Now DJ! Now Steve! Now Michelle and Stephanie!
On Comet! Kimmy Gibbler! On Alex and Nicky!"
And then, in a twinkling, I heard before long
The dancing and remaking of a hit Beach Boys song.
Knocked over the bottle as I turned around,
Thru the chimney Uncle Jesse came to rock down.
He was dressed all in leather from his head to his hand
And his sideburns attached to a mullet so grand;
An electric guitar he flung on his back,
A gift from the Rippers about five years back.
He had awesome hair from all of the mousse
That stayed in place and never came loose
A wink of his eye and a point to his head,
Warning not to touch the hair or I'd end up dead;
He plugged in his guitar and ever so clever
He sang a Christmas version of his big hit, "Forever".
He then waved good-bye, a disappointing rub
But Uncle Jesse had a gig that night at the Smash Club.
And I heard him exclaim, as he rocked out of sight,
"Merry Christmas to all! Have Mercy! Good-night!"

Ryan's Christmas Wish List 2015

 It's that time of year again, when I open up my heart and let you in on all my Christmas wishes for this holiday season.  While some of these may seem a little far-reaching, or even unattainable, I'd like to remind you that in the past I wished for several things that did come true (a Stanley Cup in Boston in 2011, the Ruby-Spears Superman cartoon on DVD, and a new Aerosmith album, just to name a few).  And of course there's one item that has eluded me since Christmas 1999.  So, as usual, we'll start there.

A Goddam Frigging Uncle Jesse Doll
Look, there's something that can be said about being persistent.   This doll has been at the top of my Christmas Wish List for just about forever (...and I'd ask the sky just what we had...), and I haven't gotten it yet.  Not either version of the bloody thing.  Originally I was simply asking for the Rockin' Uncle Jesse.  The one with the guitar and red shirt.  The guitar opens up to show pictures of Jesse's family.  These days, though, I feel as though my Christmas Wish has compounded interest and I won't settle for just the Rockin' Jesse.  Nope, I want the four-pack of dolls that include Uncle Jesse, Aunt Becky, and the twins.  I've seen these on eBay for about $200, still in their packaging.  I'm not picky.  They don't need to still be in the package.  I'd just take them out and play with them anyway.  So, if everyone would just chip in a few bucks, my Christmas wish could come true.  Now, I also realize that I could drop my own money on these toys, and that's okay, but here's the thing - I really want this given to me as a gift.  I want someone to find this doll somewhere and think of me.  Please, don't spend two hundred bucks on a toy.  Unless you want me to love you forever (...because I'll be so happy loving you...).

There's plenty of mercy to be had by all!

More Beer from Wychwood Brewery
I'm a big fan of Hobgoblin, and all of it's ugly sisters.  Seriously, King Goblin makes me all happy inside.  Even Hobgoblin Gold is a nice afternoon ale.  The Wychwood Brewery has been making quality beers for the better half of my legal adulthood.  The one exception is "Scarecrow", which is a fucking horrid piece of shit beer.  Stop brewing it, guys.  I'd like to see a return of Fiddler's Elbow and Black Wych, or an easier way to get Imperial Red than buying a gift pack that includes a bottle of Scarecrow.  So let's see what else these brew masters can come up with.  Maybe something with a dragon on the label?  Or a fire-breathing unicorn drinking blood? I know!  A one-eyed rabbit!  Those guys are awesome.  Keep up the good non-Scarecrow brews!

Christopher Reeve as Superman again

He'd whoop Batman's ass.

A few years back, some of the lost Superman IV: The Quest For Peace footage turned up as bonus material on a DVD release, but it wasn't all of it.  I'd really like to see that movie in it's entirety, even if it is a piece of shit.  Even if the graphics are awful, and the story is boring, and the actors are just phoning it in.  To me, it's another chance to see Christopher Reeve as Superman.  Hell, I'd even settle for someone using some nifty animation to fill in the gaps of the story.   But why stop there?  Why not make some direct-to-DVD animated features in the style of the classic Superman movies?  There were plot ideas for Superman battling with Brainiac and Mr. Mxyzptlk, and since CGI is good enough now to pull it off, all you'd need is some voice-alikes to make it all work.  Brandon Routh even sounded like Reeve when he did Superman Returns.  I'd buy them.  I'd watch them.  I think it's something that would make us all happy.
Note: In the meantime, there's a very good fan video on YouTube of Christopher Reeve's Superman battling the Hulk.  You should watch it.

A Lifetime Supply of Almonds
This one shouldn't be too hard to take care of.  Let's suppose I eat thirty whole almonds each day.  We then multiply that by how many days I expect to live, and it just becomes an easy math equation.  We let "A" represent almonds, "R" represent me, and ... and... math is hard.

don't forget to carry the one!

naughty time with you, me, and the lovely wife
I'm just gonna leave this here until she gives me trouble for it.

...or how about just a goddam Uncle Jesse doll?  Is it too much to ask?

- ryan

Newzinetter #8

RFC Newzinetter #7

Here it is!
RFC Newzinetter #7!

Remembering My High School Graduation

It's that time of year, that everyone seems to be graduating from high school.  Well, everyone except for those couple kids in your class who you knew weren't going to quite make it.  It's a good thing Wal-Mart is hiring.

Anyway, I thought I'd take today to reflect upon my own high school graduation.

To put it in perspective, when I graduated high school the Ryan Fan Club had only been around for six months and had approximately seventy-five or eighty card carrying members in it.  I had really awesome long hair.  I wore jeans to my graduation ceremony.  They were red.  I had figured that since the gown would be covering my legs anyway that it didn't matter.  I might as well be me anyway.

"I hope you're not planning on pulling another stunt like that cartwheel thing you did at Awards Night," said the principal to me as I was getting my gown on.  He was referring to the cartwheel I did when I accepted some certificate for achieving an average in my grades that wouldn't ever really matter for anything ever anyway.

"Let's both be happy I'm wearing pants," I replied and went to get a rolled up piece of paper in front of my adoring fans and their families.  I didn't do the cartwheel.  I bent down to make it look like I was going to, but then pretended to tie my shoe instead.

I don't honestly remember much else about graduation.  It was really long and I think afterwards my parents took me to East Side Mario's for dinner.  There was a graduation party on a local cruise ship, with dinner and a DJ and a bunch of drunk high school kids.  I actually remember more of that than I do the graduation ceremony.  It's funny when you look back and realize what was actually important in life.

- ryan

RFC Newzinetter #6

Here it is...
RFC Newzinetter #6!
This one was a lot of fun to make for y'all!

Newzinetter #4

Ryan Fan Club Newzinetter #4

Idjits n' Midjits

Here's something new, just for the hell of it.

Pretty, ain't it?

Ain't that just the truth, how the world is full
Of idjits n' midjits thinking they're so on top
And thinking's kinda hard to do for themselves
Like, they can read what's on the paper but
Not know what it really means
Ex is ex, and why is why
And could Eh Be See then?
And did I just hear someone shout "OMG"?
Oh, goodness gracious me-oh-my
Just sound out those words, go on and give it a try
We're all just so conditioned, aren't we?
Though most of us aren't in very good condition anymore
I guess the good lord should've kept us in the packaging
Instead of taking us out to play with
The paint rubs off, the joints get loose, and
We're all destined to lose our best accessory
... mine would've been a battle ax or a fire sword...
But if we can't be mint anymore, we can at least be
Near mint - whatever that really is... Near mint...
Or slightly above average, which is what the
Idjits and Midjits are calling you to encourage you
You know, gotta earn that minimum wage
On someone Else's time, er... I mean someone Else's dime
And you gotta give a couple dimes back to the taxman
When we would've all been better off to give 'em to the Axman
And thus the idjits n' midjits, or midjits n' idjits
As they'll be called after a fuss is made over who comes first,
Wouldn't know who the Axman was anyway...
Hmph - who comes first... isn't the important thing
That everyone just gets to come in the first place?
And first place is fine and dandy if you're facing east
But don't face west, cause then look out - you're last place instead
And that guy you gave some spare change to is now in first
And he's driving your car and kissing your girl
And you're angry for a second or two...
Wait a minute... how can there be two seconds?
Wouldn't the second second be the third?
One second... what a bizarre concept
Goddam those idjits n' midjits

- ryan of the ryan fan club

Skin

Here's a new poem that was recently featured in Ryan Fan Club Newzinetter #2.  I hope you all enjoy it as much as you enjoy cold pizza on a Sunday morning.

Skin
written by ryan of the ryan fan club

It's only skin
It comes and it goes
Peels at my fingers
And falls off my toes
It keeps me warm
And protects my heart
Not a canvas
To display my art
My skin is dying
From the moment of birth
It's probably for sale
But what is it worth
It's coarse like my soul
Having once been in vain
It may give you pleasure
But it's given me pain
And when it all fades
On my final terms
My skin will be buried
And eaten by worms

If you haven't already had a chance to check out the new RFC Newzinetter, you can do so at http://www.ryanfanclub.com.... you should really do it before you're an old geezer and regret it forever.  Or just click on the picture below. Same difference.

The Punchbuggy Bible

(Revised Edition)
A few years back I compiled an official rulebook for the The Punchbuggy game.  Over time, like all sports, the rule book needs to be revised.  Certain events happen that make you question a rule, or require an alteration to a rule.  I recently took another look at the Guide To Punchbuggies and made some tweaks to help you with physically abusing your friends and family in the proper manner.

Enjoy.

Section 1 - The Outburst

1-1 -In the event of seeing a punchbuggy, the infiltrator (the person who instigates the punch) shall call out the buggy in a manner that which describes it. Example: Red Punchbuggy, No Punch Backs!

1-2 - Punchbuggies can also be called by other features that describe them as being special. Example: Mug Root Beer Punchbuggy, No Punch Backs!

1-3 - Failure to call the "No Punch Backs" leaves you completely open for a punch that can be as hard as your opponent(s) desires.

1-4 - Punchbuggies in a Volkswagen dealership lot are considered "Held in Captivity", and are unavailable for use in the Punchbuggy game. Using one of these buggies is a violation of the rules and must result in the same revenge as rule #4-3.

1-5 - Punchbuggies on television or in photographs, no matter how cool they may be, are not allowed to be used for scoring. Example: You cannot hit someone for the Herbie car while watching "Herbie Fully Loaded", but you can hit someone for seeing a REAL Punchbuggy that looks like Herbie.

There's a masturbation joke somewhere here, I just can't seem to find it.

Section 2 - Tally That Score

2-1 -New Punchbuggies are valued at One (1) Point each. Slugging someone and calling it correctly will give you one point to add on your daily scoreboard.

2-2 - Fancy-Schmancy Buggies (convertible, decorated with ads, multi-colored, missile launcher added) are worth Two (2) Points each.

2-3 - Classic Buggies (a.k.a. "Old-Skool") are valued at Five (5) Points each.

2-4 - By chance if you come across two buggies together, perhaps side by side in a parking lot or back to back on the street, you can effectively call "Double Buggie" after you exclaim, "No Punch Backs."  A double buggie is exactly that - you double the points of the buggies you have hit your opponent for.  This then applies to "Triple Buggie", in which you can triple the points for three punchbuggies in a row, and so on and so on.

2-5 - Scoring continues until the end of the day, in which the score is reset to zero (0) for each person. This is where your own judgement comes in. The game could not possibly have scores reset at midnight, for example, because one could be winning with a score of 4-3 only to have those points reset before your day has come to and end. Typically, the score is reset to zero when you have fallen asleep for the night.

Section 3 - Tie Braking

3-1 -In the event of two players punching each other and calling at the same time, the victory must be decided via Rock, Paper, Scissors (No dynamite, and no two-out-of-three).

3-2 - If you or your opponent have no hands, then a simple foot race around the block will suffice for the tie break.

Section 4 - Revenge, Sweet Revenge

4-1 -If someone punches you after you have claimed "No Punch Backs" you are legally and morally allowed to punch them again. Repeat as many times as it takes until they stop punching you back when you have clearly called "No Punch Backs".

4-2 - If someone punches you for a car that is in fact not a Punchbuggy you are entitled by all that is good and Holy to punch them back 10 times.

4-3 - At no time will you punch someone for a buggy that has already been called during that day. Doing so gives your opponent the God Given Right to hit you really, really hard. Suck it up, and wait until the next day to use that Buggy again.

Section 5 - Color Disputes

5-1 -There are some Punchbuggies that are odd in color. There's this one that is clearly yellow to me but my lovely wife says it's green. But fuck, it's definitely yellow. However, I enjoy sleeping in my bed and not on the couch so I let her have her green victory every now and again. Gentlemen, keep your women happy. But not too happy, we don't want them to think they can start voting or anything.

5-2 - Sometimes a dark blue can look like black. And vice versa. Use your own judgement when someone makes a mistake. You can choose to just let them have their point because of how close the color was, or you can return the punch with full force and correct their blurry eyes once and for all.

Remember, like all games, The Punchbuggy game is meant to have fun and hurt your friends.  If you truly like your friends, you'll hit them with all you've got.
- ryan of the ryan fan club

Love Songs - My Five Faves

As we get closer and closer to Valentine's Day, it's time to take a look at some great love songs.

#5 - Andrew W.K. - "I Love NYC"

#4 - Oscar The Grouch - "I Love Trash"

#3 - Huey Lewis & The News - "The Power of Love"

#2 - Bruce McCulloch - "I Love My Answering Machine"

#1 - Aerosmith - "Falling In Love (Is Hard On The Knees)"

Bonus: Ryan Fan Club's "I Love Boobies (And You Should Too)"

 

- ryan of the ryan fan club

The New Kid On The Block

Grayson Ryan Ewing

No, no, no, I'm not talking about Donnie or Joey.  There's a new addition to the Fan Club family. And he's got the right stuff, baby.

On December 17, 2014, Grayson Ryan Ewing was born.  He weighed nearly ten pounds, and gave new meaning to the old expression, "gonna tear you a new asshole."  I'm sure my lovely wife is just elated that I wrote that part, but I'm about eighty-five percent certain she doesn't read my blog anyway.  I suppose I could just use the backspace key and erase it but I'm afraid I've already lost track of where the off comment is. 

So anyway, he brought new meaning to the old expression, "gonna tear you a new asshole."

Ladies, I know you're all cringing from the idea of pushing a ten-pounder out of you so I'll save you the explicit details.

Who am I kidding, if you don't hear all about the blood, guts, random colored liquids, and lack of oxygen then it'll never make sense how I nearly passed out in the delivery room.

That's right, I darn near dropped to the floor like a ten pound bag of potatoes.  I'm using the potato analogy because I'm Irish.  If I were, say, Russian then I would've dropped like a ten liter bottle of vodka.  The same amount of vodka that is equally divided amongst all new fathers in Russia whom are about to spontaneously drop at the sight of their newborn son.

And that's what happened. I turned light-headed and dizzy, and they made me lay down before I fell down and hurt myself.  Pansy ass pansy. 

The big sister and the little brother.

I guess I was feeling this incredible amount of over-joy at the sight of my little boy.  The doc said it was because I wasn't getting enough oxygen after helping my lovely wife with all that pushing.  But what does he know?  He's only a doctor.  Come to think of it, I'm not too sure about his credentials.  Sure, he delivered our new baby boy just fine, but he didn't even have a Flux Capacitor with him.  How good of a doctor could he really be without one?

So anyway, there I am laying on the floor while the nurses got on the intercom and immediately began calling, "We need some juice in here for the dad.  Stat!"

That's when I looked up at my lovely wife and she was looking back at me with a face that could only read, "Seriously?"  It seems as though my little near-accident had taken away all the attention and thunder from the woman who had just given birth.

Guys, there's some advice for you - in the delivery room, it's all about your wife.  Even if you think marriage is a 50/50 deal. 

But back to the nurses for a sec... since my lovely wife had to have her water broken manually, and the entire baby delivery took about three hours from the time of inducement, and the nurses each needed a break during that time, we had four or five different nurses come in and out.

I'd like to point out that during those three hours I was witness to four or five different nurses inserting their fingers right up into my wife to check up on her.  That's as close to the fantasy as I think I'll ever get.  I think I may have enjoyed it more than my lovely wife did, but I haven't asked her to be sure.  Sometimes I'm just happy to know that I'm happy.

Aren't nurses great?  I mean, even though they don't dress in those skimpy white costumes you see in porno movies, they're just all around great.  I'd like to think that any time I've been to a hospital over the last few years the nurses have been more involved than the doctors.  And ninety percent of the time they're much easier on the eyes.

And then there's the whole part of them going knuckles deep on my wife.  I'm glad in Canada we have free health care, otherwise I'd be blowing my whole paycheck on nurses.

they lost to the Leafs when this was taken.

But back to what you came here for - the new baby boy!  When Grayson was taken to his first family doctor's appointment (and I'm not about to rant about how attractive our family doctor is for being a woman in her 50s) we found out he's in the 95 percentile.  When he first came out at almost ten pounds we thought he was a big one, but we didn't realize just how big he was.  Being in the 95 percentile means that only 5% of babies are bigger than him at his age.

JESUS CHRIST!

I am happy to say that little Grayson is doing just fine too.  He eats.  He poops.  He's already trying to sit up on his own at two weeks old.  And probably most importantly he throws his fist in the air with pride when we chant, "LET'S GO BRUINS!"

When our daughter, Ryleigh, was born in 2011 the Bruins went on to win the Cup that year.  Here's hoping Grayson can have the same affect on the team this year 'cause they kinda suck balls right now.  But that's a blog for a whole other day.

Grayson is set to take over for me and become Grayson Ryan Fan Club when he's old enough and the idea of me trying to get young girls to join my Fan Club is just too creepy for everyone involved.  I guess this is what it means when Brando says, "The son becomes the father and the father, the son," in Superman: The Movie.

- ryan of the ryan fan club

Undercover Santa

Undercover Santa
A classic, silly Christmas song, by yours truly with the help of Johnny San.

The Worst Date I'd Ever Had

Everybody's had one really awful date.  True love doesn't just fall into your lap, you know.

I was decent looking in 2002.

Mine occurred in Spring 2002, about three months before I met the girl I'd eventually spend the rest of my life with.

The worst date I ever had was with a girl we'll call "MargarineGirl".  Not because I'm trying to be mean to her, but because I can't actually remember her name... and honestly, I never really knew what it was for certain to begin with.  One thing I'm sure of, is her name sounded like "Margarine".  Yep, I went on a date with a girl who's name I couldn't even pronounce.

C'mon, she was really pretty.

MargarineGirl was a friend of a friend whom I'd always thought was pretty attractive.  And she was really cool too.   I bumped into her one day downtown and she was looking for a job.  I offered to pay her to clean my apartment for me.  She laughed about it after actually considering it, and honestly I had hoped she would do it.  My roommate at the time, Joshua Lindsay Mercer Clements, was the type of guy to clip his toenails and leave them on the living room table.

Gross.

Anyway, when I offered her some temporary employment she asked why I didn't ask my slutty girlfriend to clean my apartment for me.  I let her know that I was recently single, which resulted in me getting MargarineGirl's phone number and the promise that she wouldn't be cleaning my apartment for me.

I called MargarineGirl later that week to set up a date.  She was in the bubble bath while talking on the phone to me.  I still think that's kinda awesome.  And really, it made me extra excited for our upcoming date.

This isn't actually MargarineGirl

We met at a Second Cup coffee shop, one that doesn't exist anymore and has been converted into a Starbucks, and she was right on time.  That's a big deal to me. Punctuality is important.  Especially if I want to get naked and do the dirty with you.  It's not as important as cleanliness, but it's still in the top five.

So we each had a hot chocolate and talked.

About nothing.

Nothing at all.

I've had quite a few first dates in my time, and usually they're a great chance to get to know someone new.  An opportunity to chat about what you like, what you enjoy doing, where you're from, etc etc.

Nope.  MargarineGirl was boring as fuck.  And so was I.  I actually hope that somewhere she's blogging about a boring date she once had with a guy named BoringSelfIndulgentFanClubGuy.  That would be pretty sweet.

We tried a couple times to get the conversation ball rolling, but nothing.  She asked me why I had my own fan club.  I told her.  She didn't think it was funny.  I asked about how her classes at Queen's University were going.  I think she said she was a literature major or a psychology major... so she had nothing really important to say about that either.

To put this in perspective, I was once stood up on a blind date with a girl from ICQ (remember that?) and it was a way better date than the one with MargarineGirl.

I don't know what I'm doing here.

We then decided this was the most boring date we'd ever been on, and that I should just walk her home.  I didn't really want to, but the weather had turned to rain and I was the only one of us that had an umbrella, so I did the right thing.  Also, maybe I'd get a one-afternoon stand out of this.  Perhaps she was one of those cool girls who were just really into random sex.

Nope.

We had more boring conversation about nothing at all as we walked back to her place.  And after what seemed like forever, but was really only fifteen minutes, we were at her front door.

"I hope you understand," she said, "that I'm not going to invite you in."
"I hope you understand," I replied, realizing that any random sex was not going to happen, "that I don't really want to come in."

Then I walked myself home.  And, really, I actually meant what I said to her.  In that moment, I really didn't want to go into MargarineGirl's place and do dirty things with her.  Even if I had been thinking about it all week and what it would be like.  I know it sounds crazy that while I hadn't been offered any sex, if I had then I may have turned it down.  I had concluded to myself that she'd probably be very boring in bed too.  And she would probably think I was extremely boring in bed too.

We were both just boring as fuck that day.

And that made MargarineGirl the worst date I'd ever had.

- ryan

AutoRYography - Hallowe'en '98

1998 was a pivotal year for me.

That fall, after having just started my own fan club and not knowing what I had gotten myself into, was when I dressed up (or down really) in my most controversial Hallowe'en costume ever.  It resulted in me getting strange looks, curious half-smiles, stern talkings to, and a even a few fingers pointed in my face.

I painted my upper body half black with a zipper down the middle of my chest.  And I only wore pants because I didn't want to be arrested that night.

It was a bit of an odd reference and homage to Steven Tyler in Aerosmith's "Livin' On The Edge" video.  That video was already eight years old by this point, and was certainly not in anyone's mind but mine.

...there's something wrong with THIS GUY today...

Livin' On The Edge

By mid-98 I was a HUGE Aerosmith fan.  I secretly wanted to be just like Steven Tyler.  I grew my hair long, started wearing leopard print clothing and... well, okay I guess it wasn't that big of a secret.  This Hallowe'en costume may have been a step too far, but I digress - I still, to this day, think it was fucking awesome.

And really, you weren't me back then and never saw the looks on the peoples' faces.  That was worth it all.

My high school was on the other side of town, and I had to be bussed there.  Usually I'd get up around 6:30 am to get ready for school on a normal day.  I had to be up at 5:30 that morning to get this costume ready.  The painting part was pretty painstaking.  It took a long time to do, and I had to be careful not to rub against anything.

I had never painted my body before, and didn't even know what body paint was.  I was certainly no expert in this field.  I had purchased a dozen or so tubes of black face paint from the dollar store to make this transformation happen, and it took all of them to finish the paint job.  And really, there's no photos of my back, but it got pretty choppy looking towards my spine.

So then I got on the school bus, wearing a big black trench coat as I so often did back in those days.  My friends could tell that something was up.  Since I had applied the paint with my finger, I could really only make the zipper look so good.  Some people on the bus thought I was being crude or bold or even racist by being half black.

Wrestlemania VI

When I got into school and took my jacket off, a couple people thought my costume was "Rowdy" Roddy Piper in Wrestlemania VI.  This was, of course, 1998 and the WWF was at the height of its all-time popularity.  Oh well.  Mostly, the kids at school didn't know what to make of me that day.  Everyone kept their distance, obviously to not have any black paint rub off on them. But more and more I was greeted with comments about race, prejudice, and how cool it was that I was making a statement about how we were all the same on the inside.

When I would explain that I was dressed as Steven Tyler in "Livin' On The Edge" I'd just get blank stares from people.

"What do you think you're doing, walking around here with no shirt on," asked my first period English teacher.  She was a bitch by nature, overly preach about the ways of feminism, and didn't understand art even though she prided herself on being artistic.  I hated her so much I eventually dropped her class.  "This is my Hallowe'en costume," I replied as if to insinuate that she didn't realize that it was, in fact, October 31st.

"And why did you feel the need to come to my class like this today?"
"If it would make you feel better I'd be more than willing to leave."  So I spent the rest of first period in the Theater Complete room, rambling about nothing, and visiting the art classes down the hall.

That night was the high school dance and I didn't miss it for the world.  I was never one for going to these dances before.  I thought they were pretty hokey.  But I had a sweet costume that had everyone talking.  There was even a costume contest, which I didn't win but I'm glad to say the guys from my school dressed up as the Beastie Boys "Sabotage" video did.  Me and the other Theater Complete kids found ourselves wandering outside for a couple quick beers before calling it a night.

The famous naked photo of me came from that night too.  I had convinced some friends (who naturally don't want to be named and I don't friggin' blame them) to snap a quick picture of me totally nude and covering myself, just like the opening of the "Edge" video that I was mirroring.  That photo wound up in Ryan Fan Club Newsletter #3. 

L2R: Stephen (the first ever Ryan-Fan who signed up) ... me....  Brendon dressed as Hercules

When I got home that night, around midnight, I had to get that black shit off my body.  There was no way I was going to sleep with that on and have it wind up all over my sheets.   So I took a shower to scrub it off.  This was probably the longest shower I have ever had, and I've had some darn good shower sex of the years, and I used nearly an entire new bar of Ivory soap.  I learned something that night:

Hot water + black paint + white bath tub = grey bath tub.

Boy, did I get in a lot of shit from my parents the next day.  In all honesty, I had the water so hot in that shower and combined with the few beer I'd had and the cool October air on my mostly naked body... well, I puked up a storm before bed.  I refuse to blame the booze for that one.  You never blame the booze.

So, is there a legacy for this?  I'm sure the Ryanites and Ryanettes from those early days remember this well, and when I bring out the photo for new Ryan-Fans they give me those same looks I experienced in 1998.  I love it.

Oh, and "Livin' On The Edge" has become one of my all-time favorite Aerosmith songs.

But I don't try to dress like Steven Tyler anymore.

- ryan

Ryan's Inappropriate Alphabet Book For Intermediate Readers

Just noticed I hadn't posted this into the Blog yet, so enjoy Ryan's Inappropriate Alphabet Book For Intermediate Readers!

The 15th Anniversary of My 19th Birthday

The 15th Anniversary of My 19th Birthday

that was me in '99.

In Canada, your 19th birthday is a pretty big deal.  You've been old enough to vote and buy pornography for a year by this point.  What's more important is you can now legally buy alcohol everywhere in the country.  If, like me, you grew up in Ontario there were only a few ways to get drunk on a Saturday night until you were 19.

1. Take a quick drive to Hull, Quebec.
2. Take a long drive to Manitoba.
3. Raid your parent's liquor cabinet.
4. Become friends with older kids who could legally buy beer already.

Number one and number four were always the easiest to accomplish.

This coming Wednesday I'll be turning 34. Holy cow, where did the time go?  Did I really drink away that many years?  Am I really just a 21-year old trapped inside a 33 year old's body?

My 19th birthday (August 13th, 1999) was a great adventure indeed.  So let's take it from the top.

That August I was earning a living at a summertime art camp for little kids.  My hair was really long at this point, but still not at it's longest.  I was avidly wearing red jeans, unbuttoned leopard print button up shirts over top of black tank tops, lots of bracelets and necklaces, and a top hat. Also, my love for Converse All Stars had only been going for a year or so. I guess you could say that Converse and I were still in the newlywed stage.

I had become close friends with the guys who would continue to be my closest friends for the rest of my life - The Dickheads, though we hadn't been given that moniker just yet.  The Dickheads were (and still are to some impact) Chris Morris, Brian Crofton, Adam Thom, Peter Fairley, Joshua Lindsay Mercer Clements, and myself.  You could argue that this other guy, Rob "The Beef" Trentadue, was also a part of the Dickheads but that would depend on which Dickhead you asked about it.

As my nineteenth birthday approached, I left the details up to the Dickheads.  My parents had decided to go out of town to visit my sister for a couple weeks, so I had the place to myself.  The possibilities were pretty much endless.  And since my 19th birthday fell on a Friday, I had an entire weekend to wreak havoc if I so chose.

The Dickheads decided we'd been partying in Kingston enough as it was, and since I had actually been going to pubs and bars while I was 18 I had to agree with them.  It was then Chris Morris who came up with the plan.

"Let's get him right royally fucking drunk at a dirty strip club in Belleville." - Chris Morris (paraphrased but probably pretty accurate to a quote)

The Dickheads - Chris, Adam, Ernie (filling in for Josh), Grover, Crofton, Ryan.

And that's what happened.  I've always been a big fan of road trips, so myself, Adam, and Peter, all piled into Brian's mom's car that Friday when I had finished work. The Beef might have come along too, but I really don't remember.  This car was special, because it was still sort of new.  You see, The Dickheads kinda killed his mom's first car, The GEO, on the 401 Highway a few months back.  This new car was a sleek NEOGEO.  We were late leaving, of course, because we were waiting for Adam "Always Late For Everything" Thom to finish taking a big poop in his house.  I'm not making that up.  Then we hit the road, stopping only for gas.

Chris was living in Belleville at the time and when we got to his apartment we couldn't figure out which buzz number was his.  We did, however, know which balcony was his so we did what any Dickhead would do... we climbed up the balconies to get to his apartment.  Made sense.

After a quick debriefing of plans, we called some cabs and headed out to drink.  Little did my horny and perverted newly 19-year old mind know, the boys insisted on some pre-drinks first at some other bar that didn't have any naked women in it.

WHAT??????????

I had never been to a strip club before, and most of my friends were already a year older, and thus a year wiser, and informed me that the beer at the strip club was priced up the ass and we needed to get a good buzz on for cheap, because we needed to save cash to give to the strippers.  That decision was economical and fair to the women who were probably paying for their therapy with whatever fivers get tossed their way.  Remember, in Canada, the lowest denomination of a bill is a five, so a stripper single can go a long way.

We finally got to the strip club, a little place called The Cabaret, and we weren't even greeted at the door.  No carding, no checking for our ID, no cover.  In all fairness, we were there a little early.  The sun had just gone down.  In August.  But this was good, because I was honestly worried that even though I had turned 19 that day and was legally able to drink anywhere in Canada that they wouldn't let me in.  You see, I didn't yet have a driver's license (not that I have one now...) and I was still using my birth certificate and student ID for my picture to get into places.  Lame, I know, but it's still better than Adam trying to use his birth certificate with a photo of him cut out from the local newspaper with his name under it.  Let's just be glad we got in with no hassle.

Here you see three Dickheads being awesome.  I know what you're thinking, but you're wrong, they were awesome.

We immediately sat in Pervert's Row and ordered several pitchers of Molson Canadian, which we excitedly drank and then ordered more.  We were still kids, remember, and to us Molson Canadian was the coolest beer out there.  I have since developed a hatred toward that awful beer and you probably couldn't bribe me to drink it even if you offered naked women.

Well, maybe.

This is where the night got a little hazy and my memory escapes me a bit.  I remember going to the bathroom and putting a loonie into a machine to get a porno bubble gum card, except it had no bubble gum and I was disappointed.  I also remember Peter "The Robot" Fairley trying to get some of the strippers to join the Ryan Fan Club.  I remember Chris referring to my face as being many inanimate objects and other things.... "your face is a beer".... "your face is maple syrup"... "your face is richard nixon"...

But what I remember most is how the Dickheads got me up on stage with a stripper.  There we were drinking away and staring at boobies when suddenly a voice came over the PA system, announcing to everyone that it was indeed my birthday and that I should get up on stage.  I didn't know what to expect, and actually thought for a second that I would be required to do a striptease like the guy in Detroit Rock City.  Who would want to see that?  Especially from me?

A bouncer then came onstage and offered me a seat.  He was a nice man, considering he could have eaten me in three bites, and he could sense I was nervous.  The bouncer informed me to just relax and let happen what was going to happen, but also made it very clear to keep my hands to myself.  I dramatically put them behind my back to make sure he saw me do so.  I wanted to live to see twenty.

"hey guys, check out my GnR t-shirt... PSYCH!"

Then the PA system lit up with Guns N' Fucking Roses... "You're Crazy"... the slower acoustic version... and this french girl came out and started dancing.  Just for me.  Sure, everyone else was watching too, but fuck them, this dance was just for me.  It was my goddam birthday.  And at this point I was also really wasted from beer and shots.  I think all I could do was smile at her and reassure her that my hands were comfortably behind my back because I didn't want to get assraped by the bouncer.  I guess she thought that was cute.  I bet they say that to all the boys.

Next, "Angel" by Aerosmith... and the stripper was on my lap. Sweet Mary Jesus this was incredible.  Just relax, and let happen what was going to happen...  WHAM!  My face was smushed right into her average sized boobs.  I remember thinking they were real, even though I had very little basis for comparison at this point in my life.  And then after blinking a couple times to make sure what was happening was real, I had a face full of good ol' French Canadian beaver.  Not the kind you'd find on the other side of a nickel, but the kind that would make you want to set up a dentist appointment the very next day.

Then something was very cold. Ice cold.  Almost like it was ice.

It was ice.  And it was down the front of my Superman boxer shorts.  Yep, I wore Superman boxer shorts to a strip club.  Fuck.  And everyone knew now, because the stripper had pulled down my pants when I wasn't paying attention.  That ice was cold.  You might say it was cold as ice.   Another lap dance followed, and the ice continued to be cold.  When she was done, the nice man on the PA system asked everyone to give me a round of applause and I stood up, ice falling, water dripping, and my arms in the air like I'd just won the WWF Intercontinental Championship at Summer Slam.  Even the bouncer shot a thumbs up my way.  This was my moment.

it's a wonder anyone ever kissed me.

The next thing I remember is waking up in Chris' living room, on his floor, unsure if he had passionately man-raped me while I was asleep. I knew for a fact that I didn't puke, and I was a little proud of myself for that.  To this day, I'm still excited when I wake up after a night of crazy drinking and no vomiting.  Oh, the birthday gifts didn't stop either.  Chris' roommate sent me home with a box of Count Chocula.

Before leaving Belleville we stopped at a Chapters bookstore.  I bought some magazines, and in the process we saw the strippers there from the night before.  We all made eye contact and it was awkward.  Mostly because none of them joined my Fan Club.  And that was my 19th birthday.

- Ryan