Jun
27
What the fuck was that? Riot gear. Tear gas. Rubber bullets (shut your face). Cop cars on fire. This is not my city anymore and it’s down to a small handful of people who don’t even live here that are stirring the global pot and making everyone crazy. And yes I’m talking about the world leaders. I get it. The G 20 is like some governmental pot luck dinner and this time it was Toronto’s turn to host. But seriously, why do it at all? Is it some global smoke screen to distract us from other issues? Canadians are till dying in Afghanistan, 2 in fact, over the weekend. No one cared. Hunger and child mortality are still crippling countries. Inequality and military strong arming is keeping others on the verge of become Nazi regimes. These leaders know what’s wrong with their countries and therefore the world so why get together and state the obvious? Couldn’t they all just Skype it? They could create a virtual conference and then people could voice their dissatisfaction by burning virtual police cars and kicking in virtual windows of businesses owned by people who are just trying to keep their heads afloat in this horrible economy. Now Toronto’s unlucky will spend the weekend cleaning up and assessing damages that they will have to pay out of pocket. Shame on you world leaders for knowingly instigating such a senseless riot. That said, Happy Pride Everyone!
Kisses!
May
23
Well it’s been 7 weeks and, at the time of this blogging, 26 lbs and I’ve never felt more alive. I know I’m alive because my body is in constant agony! Everytime I even think about moving, even just a little, my whole body protests. Right now, sitting here typing, there are more muscles complaining about the activity than I’m sure are necessary to sustain the human body. Little muscles in my upper inner thigh have me walking like the undead. My newly awoken abdominals have me snapping shut like a switch blade every time I sneezeI And it’s any body’s guess if my arms will succeed in getting a cup coffee cup to my face. I’m thinking of investing in straws. I needs my coffee, which Gidon wishes I would drink black. I tell him it’s good to want things. It builds character . So does coffee. See how hard my workouts are?! Anyway, back to my body (that’s what you’re last boyfriend said), as much as it protests at even the slightest hint of activity. I think I’m becoming addicted to the workouts. I know, I’m scared too! I find myself looking forward to them. And the sense of satisfaction when I’ve finished is delicious! Yesterday I did my first push up! Not from my knees, shut your face, or just moving my head up and down, what did you say, I mean a real honest to God, big boy push up. On the toes, chest to the ground and back up again. There was moment when i didn’t think it was going to happen. Then, like a Christmas miracle, all these little muscles I didn’t know I had took over. There was no effort on my part. The muscles knew what needed to be done and got to it. I stared in disbelief at Gidon as I started to rise, almost float away from the floor. For a second he looked like he thought I was possessed but as soon as there was no pea soup, he seemed to relax. Seriously, how could there be? Pea soup isn’t on my meal plan. So the point is, I think I’m starting to cross over. To become one of them. A fit person. It’s like some strange sort of athletic Stockholm Syndrome. It’s starting to affect my mind. Sometimes, when it’s real quite, like after last call at O’Grady’s, I swear I can hear the CN tower steps calling my name.
…Richard….climb us Richard….
I’m scared!
May
11
So, it’s the Scotiabank Contact Photography Festival and I’m thumbing through their festival guide, like you do, when I came across something that caught my eye. Well, I couldn’t miss it actually because it was a picture of a bald man and the glare from his forehead was a little blinding. Nice Head…The Bald Man Project was the name of the show and Rob Allen was the photographer. That’s all I needed to know. Actually, they had me at Nice Head, but I digress. Bald men are sexy! Jason Statham and most of the UFC are prime examples of that so off I toddled to The Bald Man Project. I toddled because as you know, I’m working out with G-Force Training and a good swift toddle burns more calories and uses more muscle than just your average walk. I’m all about the toddle, people! So I finally get to the exhibit and nothing. Well, not nothing. There were a bunch of people milling around like they were at an art showing; drinks in hand, bored stares, but no photos. No art of any kind was on any of the walls…not even a brightly coloured memo. It was odd. There was no one of any authourity, no Scotiabank Contact signs anywhere. It was like there was an art show going on without the art. Then I noticed something. Everyone milling around had hair! Even the women! Thick, gorgeous, bouncin’ AND behavin’ locks. Maybe the Bald Man’s Project wasn’t for bald men! Maybe it was for people with a full head of hair so they could better appreciate what they have and pity those that are obviously being punished by The Lord. And then maybe they saw me, a big ol’ bald girl, toddlin’ their way and they panicked. They took down all the pictures so as not offend me, the follically challenged, and then went out of their way not to notice me. I’m a big girl people. I’m kinda difficult not to notice! All I could do was put my hat back on and head (pardon the pun) for the door. But I swear, just before my hat was back on my head, I heard a camera go click.
Apr
24
Well it’s that time of year, earlier than usual, but that time none the less. When warmer weather and sunnier days bring out the bicyclists who insist on riding on the sidewalks (Get A Helmet Ya Hippies!) and the gimp carts, or as I like to call ‘em: Parkdale Limousines, start to make our walk ways resemble a bumper car ride at the EX…and not the good one! Combined with all the reports of pedestrians getting hit by cars (I expect most of them are jumping just to escape the traffic on the sidewalks!) it’s getting to be that walking is no longer the pleasant pastime it’s cracked up to be! As if that weren’t enough, now we’ve got these random pairs of fund raisers bordering the sidewalks like gate keepers, catching people coming or going, to donate to sick kids, world health and any other worthy cause. But why do your fund raising this way? They’re like Jehovah’s Witnesses or Mormons (but not crazy) the way they travel in pairs. Dressed the same. Holding their various and sundry binders and books out at you as you pass…ignoring them. It’s like running a gauntlet of begging. Who’d of thought you’d long for a good old fashioned pan handler? I feel these tactics are counter productive to whatever cause they’re canvasing for. Do you even hear what they say as you skip by? Yes I skip. Shut it. It creates anxiety when you see them in the distance. Can’t they just let us enjoy our brief temperate months in peace and just go back to ambushing us on TV with their sad, starving, fly covered commercials? I gots some walking to do!
Apr
19
Since it started, I swore that I wouldn’t tweet…I’m gay enough. It’s a joke I use in my stand-up and it’s more or less true. Plus I’m a loud bitch. You wanna know what I’m doing, open a window and I’m sure you’ll hear me doing it! But as my good friend Shaun Proulx put it, the loud bitch is busy… I know, what crust!!! So I bit the Twitter bullet. I decided to tweet. Well FUCK me. I spent the better part of my day trying to figure out a profile name. How is it that there’s more than one Richard Ryder in the world? The nerve! Of course the irony is if I’d joined up earlier, I’d have the name myself so shut my own face. So I settled on BearComic. I hated it the minute I finished setting up my account. I know, ugh. It’s a stupid name. I’m so bad at this. I should’ve gone with my drag queen name: Wilma Fingerdoo now that I think about it so that people wouldn’t know it’s me tweeting! Anonymity! But then I thought, when have I ever been afraid of telling anyone what I think? And then I went back to the “other” Richard Ryder on Twitter. Who is this asshole? What’s he doing that’s so great? Well… there are 18 to be exact and one of them’s an alien! So that was it! Fuck these bitches! I’m the real Richard Ryder but twitter only allows so many characters to say that! 15 to be exact. All my variations on RichardRyder fell short due to lack of space. There was StandUpComicRic. And then there was ComicRichardRyd and the ill fated RichardRyderhah. Nothing worked! I was doomed to be BearComic for ever. A gay furry blip on the Twitter-scape. It couldn’t be so. I’m the real Richard Ryder! I’m THE Richard Ryder! Wait a minute. The Richard Ryder. Did it fit? TheRichardRyder. Yes it did! Was it available? Yes it was. Suckers! So I was off to my settings page where I changed my name as easily as a Registered Nurse changes the sheets for a coma patient. Sure there were mistakes and someone hit the floor, but who’s to tell, and I digress. The point is I’m on Twitter and tweeting loudly and proudly and you won’t have problems finding me because I’m THE Richard Ryder. Tweet.
Apr
14
Okay Poodles, here it is. I just turned 44. I’m 350 lbs and my only cardio is eating chips. Which I’m very good at. I even have a shirt dedicated to the task. But it’s not good and I’m not proud. So when the advertising team at 103.9 Proud FM came to me to see if I wanted to work out with G-Force Training, I was insulted! “Are you calling me fat?” …is what I would’ve yelled if the very act of being insulted hadn’t winded me. So I took it as a hint from God and I jumped at the chance. Okay, I didn’t exactly jump…that’s too much like exercise, but I did see this as a once in a lifetime chance at taking control of my fat fatty fag fat ways and making a change in my life. Let’s face it, youth and fitness are lost on the young. I’d rather be fit in my later years so that I can still get out of bed, go to the toilet AND wipe my own ass without the help of some registered stranger. But I digress. Let me first say that I hate working out. I don’t like sweating. I don’t enjoy muscle fatigue (what did you call me) and I don’t glow in any kind of post workout high. It’s a main reason why I’m fat. Hell, I don’t even like video games with too much running and jumping. I would never come up with “working out” as an activity on my own which is why the G-Force opportunity is so great. Gidon, my trainer and owner of G-Force comes to my place twice a week and works me out for an hour…cool down and meditation included. He brings all the equipment so there’s nothing to buy unless you need sweat clothes. I sweat so much that I consider all my clothes sweat clothes but that’s not what Gidon meant. Anyway, he varies my workout so I don’t get bored and he’s structured a meal plan designed to keep me from self sabotaging all my sweaty, whiney efforts. Did I mention that I live moments away from a Baskin Robins? Jesus hates me. It’s probably because I’m gay. But again, I digress. Seriously, working out is not an activity I would come up with on my own but I am loving the results! I’m two weeks into our 3 month program and my balance is better, I’m not so winded when I walk up the 4 flights of stairs to my apartment (yes, you heard me…fatty lives on four) and I’ve already lost 10 lbs! Suck on that Doritos! Needless to say I’m thrilled. I still don’t like the idea of working out but I’m liking what working out does! Already I’m seeing a change in my endurance and and it’s totally improved my quality of sleep at night. So I’ll be keeping you up to date about my trials and tribs in the fitness field over the next 2 and a half months and touting the fabulousness that is G-Force! Seriously, if you want to change your life, change your trainer…and give away that chip eatin’ shirt!
Brace yourself. I’m about to gush with excitement and trust me, any of the two men I’ve ever dated will tell you, I don’t gush! For one glorious day Gleethe best TV show show ever, will merge with 103.9 PROUD FM to create the epicenter of Global Gleek-dom: 103.9 Glee FM! Seriously, I wouldn’t lie about this! On Monday April 12, to launch their return to TV on Tuesdays, and to complete of season 1; Season 1? I thought this was season 2. Hell, with that hiccup in programming last year it should be season 2.5 But this nerd-vanna isn’t Battlestar Gallactica and … I digress. For one glorious day, Glee is taking over Proud FM and why shouldn’t they? What better place for a show about outcasts and social pariahs to promote themselves than on a radio station that caters to a community of those very outcast? I’m talking homos people! I’m also talking Gimps, Foreigners, Fatties and Whores. But homos have it worse! Let me paint a picture for you: My public school had a bunch of deaf students, some with one hearing aide, some with two, they were all in one class no matter what age they were despite the fact that they were there in the first place to integrate them into the public school system. Well these poor deaf bitches didn’t stand a chance! They were tortured daily during recess! It was relentless…that was until Fat Fatty Fag Fat showed up. Yep, I was a two fer: fat AND gay! It was like Bulley Heaven on Earth. Even the gimpy deaf kids picked on me. Sometimes I feel it’s our planet’s hate of gays that truly holds us together. Which is why I love Glee and am happy to let them take over my gay radio station! That show reminds us that we’re not alone and that no matter how many “slushy facials” we got or how many times we were thrown in a dumpster (they had the football team throw me … seriously, I was one huge fat fatty fag fat!) we can still pull ourselves out of the garbage, wipe ourselves off and throw down a fabulous musical number including backup dancers! As Christina Aguilera once sang: Thanks for making me stronger! Now bring on Glee FM! Okay, she didn’t actually say the last part but if we were friends, like we are in the theatre of my mind, she fucking would have!
It’s been a hard last couple of days for the ol’ Big Dick Ryder.
I can’t believe what’s going on with my Sandy Bullock. As one of my Hollywood girlfriends (you know Drew Barrymore is the other), I can’t help but be angry for her.
How dare that grease monkey, Jesse James defile North America’s Sweetheart?!? (more…)
Seriously! Who does he have pictures of naked?
I’m not even a regular viewer of American Idol so I can’t image what it’s like for fans of the show seeing that fame whore’s face popping up every other minute.
Seriously! (more…)
Barbi is 51 today. 51! I thought she’d be older. Not like 100 or anything but at least as old as Cher. And she’s 64! I’ll bet Cher’s pissed. And why shouldn’t she be? At 51, Barbie owns a pink dream home, a pink camper van, her own horse (which is not pink thank you) and drives a pink corvette convertible. She’s been a teacher, a flight attendant, a life guard, a fire fighter, a nurse AND a doctor, though not at the same time because that would be silly. She’s also been a cheer leader, a singer, a dancer, a model and a princess. Gay men adore her, which explains Ken…and that princess thing. All this and she still only looks 20 and has a big rack. Mind you bigger isn’t always better. I mean, Barbie’s doesn’t move when she jumps.Then again, neither does Cher.
