Breakfast, served. It's National Blueberry Pancake Day in the U.S.A.! OK, I'm not American, but I can still enjoy my Mini Blueberry Buttermilk Oat Pancakes and Cheesy Salsa Scrambled Eggs. Yum.

Ahh, those gun-toting wacky Americans celebrate a national food holiday every day of the year. January is National Oatmeal Month? Fruity + Oaty + Pancakes? Hell yeah, PURE WIN.

I usually think of pancakes as yummy weekend comfort food that's essentially nutritionally bankrupt. Heck, it's mostly just white flour, a bit of fat, liquid, eggs and SYRUP GALORE. But it can be an everyday healthy breakfast if you throw in the goodness of whole wheat, flax seeds, oats, and good fruit. Less drowning in maple syrup and butter. And smaller portions!

Click on a thumbnail to view a larger version. A pile of bite-sized MINI pancakes made with a cast iron griddle that makes seven 2.5" pancakes at a time. Fluffy light pancakes, maple syrup, scrambled eggs and hot coffee:

Fluffy creamy scrambled eggs topped with grated old cheddar cheese and spicy chunky tomato salsa. Did you ever notice that the FIRST pancake (or first batch) ALWAYS turns out BAD? Over-greasing the pan will fry the pancakes and leads to uneven browning. The proof:

So, the first pancake usually turns out the worst. But after a few tries, the pancakes improve.

Improvement. The same cannot be said for any Lana Del Rey song released after "Video Games" - the intriguing song that made her an internet meme in 2011. Her imperfect voice ranges from maple syrupy sweet to sultry haunting and evokes a David Lynch film, glamour bad girl, Nancy Sinatra, Chris Isaak, and narcotic-induced or heartbroken numbness. ODD.

Then "Blue Jeans" came out after, followed by "Born to Die" (there's an official music video, but I prefer the video below). Cookie cutter songs. From the SAME template - Video Games! Yet... not amazing like Video Games. Huh. The inevitable LAW OF DIMINISHING RETURNS.

I don't know what disturbs me more - that I actually LIKE burnt pancakes or that I've been looping a song I dislike. Aaaack, it's growing on me. Like a fungus. Gah. Pass me the syrup.

Oh, you're STILL here? Or maybe you skipped, skipper. Lana Del Rey's debut album drops in stores on January 31 in U.S.A. - THE DAY AFTER MY BIRTHDAY. Wish me a... something. I also celebrate a birthday in September, but I much prefer my birthday in January. LOL WUT?

Au revoir,
Massa aka "fruity oaty bar"

POST: Le Petit Déjeuner, Blueberry Oat Pancakes, Eggs, La Petite Mort

BLOG: fruityÖaty

Breakfast, served. French toast or in French, "pain perdu" which literally means "lost bread" since it's better made with day-old stale bread than fresh. And a side of... unrelenting farce.

Apparently, a dear reader (possibly an imaginary person - one can never really be certain in the virtual world of blarghing and aliases) has grown weary of my "fruity oaty" references. He commented, "FRUIT-OAT-GAH, unrelenting farce?" AWESOME. My day isn't complete until I've irked someone to the point of exhaustion. >:) (I miss smilies in my blargh.) Anyhoo, I woke up super early today and felt like making a proper brekky which then led to blarghing. (OK, so I was tired of Manny Pacquiao's face at the top of my blog's home page.)

So. You can kiss my farce or you can kiss my April in Paris. Meh. In any case, I'm still going to enjoy my breakfast. And what a fine breakfast it is. A thick slice of my sister's homemade bread soaked in an egg batter (with milk or heavy cream, French vanilla, sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg). Fried in butter. Topped with berries (blackberries, raspberries), a drizzle of maple syrup or Manuka honey, and a dusting of powdered icing sugar. OK, it's an occasional treat.

... which then led to streaming Comme si de rien n'était (in English, "As If Nothing Had Happened"), the 3rd album of Italian-French ex-supermodel, singer and France's First Lady Carla Bruni. Because I ALWAYS listen to music while I blargh. Sometimes, the music affects what I'm writing about... Oh hey, like right... now. Favourite track: Le temps perdu (Time Lost). While I was studying French, I used to immerse myself by listening to a lot of French music.

... which then led to an urge to greet all my "English-speaking only" Asian friends a Happy Lunatic Lunar New Year. In French. Bonne année du Dragon à tous mes amis asiatiques! Because while it's enjoyable to confuse random strangers, it's better to mess with friends. ;)

... which then led to the realisation that I should stop writing "which then led to". So retarded.

"Faites-vous des amis prompts à vous censurer." - Boileu. Maybe I agree. Maybe I don't. :P

Au revoir,
Massa aka "fruity oaty bar"

P.S. ... which then led to hours of exercise so that my French toast won't stay on my derrière.

POST: Kiss My Farce: French Toast - Pain Perdu - Temps Perdu - Time Lost

BLOG: fruityÖaty

I was walking along Queen Street West in T.O. when I spotted the world's BEST pound for pound fighter inside a shop window. Manny Pacquiao, looking pretty ugly as ever, clad in a red hoodie underneath his $100 Nike Sportswear N98 Track Jacket. The fact that I was wearing my fave old worn-out Gap red hoodie, looking ugly poor as ever, at the time was purely coincidental. LOL. (This is a quickie post shorter than "King Rides By" song by Cat Power.)

A persistently persistent pal o' mine (pantomime?) dropped an MP3 into my full Dropbox. Last December, Chan Marshall aka Cat Power released a new version of "King Rides By" (originally from her 1996 LP What Would the Community Think) and a 7-minute long video featuring Filipino boxer-politician-singer-LOL-actor Manny Pacquiao hitting a speed bag in slow-mo. Apparently, it's weirdly hypnotic to everyone but... me. Actually, my eyes were focused on the sign behind the fat trainer. As if it was an eye chart test on a wall. I think it says, "DO NOT ADJUST SPEED BAG PLATFORMS ASK A TRAINER!" Watch MP work out:

My pal suggested that I put the song on my iPod 'workout playlist' (music that motivates me to exercise harder, better, faster, stronger). After losing 23 pounds last year, I feel like I've hit a weight loss wall... the inevitable plateau where an exerciser has stopped seeing results. :(

Proceeds from the song (fortunately, Manny doesn't sing in it) go to charities: Festival of Children Foundation and Ali Forney Center. You can download the MP3 at Cat Power's website for a donation amount of your choosing. I felt bad so I donated 99 cents. ONCE. So, I don't know why my HUGE face (old photo, circa 2009?) appears TWICE on the Donor Wall:

I HAVE A WALL. On my blog. You don't even have to pay to appear on it! Just comment. Ha!

Au revoir,
Massa aka "fruity oaty bar"

POST: Reflections of Cat Power - King Rides By (Manny Pacquiao Video)

BLOG: fruityÖaty

Bee-eye-ell-ell-eye-ee-aitch-oh-ell-eye-dee-ay-why. Billie Holiday. Breakfast.

So, what's this twisty post really about? I'm not sure... Stick around and maybe you'll figure it out before I do. To ponder, to weigh. Excess. Moderation. Or excess in moderation. You know when they say too much of anything (bad or good) is bad? Brought on by looping this song too many times:

The FIRST MINUTE consists of spelling out B.I.L.L.I.E.H.O.L.I.D.A.Y. over and over. SRSLY. The song? "Billie Holiday" (no duh?) by American experimental rock all-girl band "Warpaint". A gauzy, moody quasi-cover lullaby of "My Guy" (a #1 hit single written by Smokey Robinson and sung by Mary Wells in 1964), stripped of the original's upbeat giddiness. An apathetic haze induced by anti-anxiety drugs or eating turkey (if you believe that turkey meat is high in tryptophan - an amino acid, resulting in drowsiness if you eat too much turkey). LOL WUT?

And the LAST MINUTE consists of "we're like birds of a feather" over and over. Ummm. o_O

An open-faced "Omelette with Roast Turkey, Bacon, Cheddar Cheese and Scallions (green onions)". Pan-fried "Baked Pineapple Brown Sugar Honey Mustard Glazed Holiday Ham". And warm, crusty Italian bread (a Cibatta bun). Yay... today's breakfast packs on the calories.

It's like slowly getting rid of leftover Halloween boo candy by mixing it in your everyday meals. Okay, so maybe putting those Smarties into my bowl of Cheerios wasn't such a smart idea...

I'll end this post with how I began it... Bee-eye-ell-ell-eye-ee-aitch-oh-ell-eye-dee-ay-whyyyy. B.I.L.L.I.E.H.O.L.I.D.A.Y. (Ad infinitum...) I need a holiday. OK, so another holiday. Preferably one that doesn't involve eating last year's leftovers. (Aah! Can't get the song out of my head.)

Oh. Em. Gee. I know how to spell! Yay. Bee-eye-ell-ell-eye-ee-aitch-oh-ell-eye-dee-ay-whyyy.

Au revoir,
Massa aka "fruity oaty bar"

P.S. Why are you storing depressing songs in my Dropbox? SRSLY. You-know-who-you-are. Not all birds of a feather flock together. Misery doesn't necessarily love company. LOL WUT?

POST: Taking a Billie Holiday from Holiday Ham and Turkey Leftovers

BLOG: fruityÖaty

Year-end retrospective post? Top best & worst lists? Navel-gazing? New Year's resolutions? Nooo? I'm sure you've already had your fill of year-end blah blahs. Quick, simple, outta here.

What can I say about 2011? The year Dad was in a constant state of anemia. The year Dad suffered a heart attack on Father's Day. The first time I heard "myocardial infarction" uttered by a doctor who wasn't an actor in Grey's Anatomy. The year Dad was hospitalised 3 fucking times. Dad... my rock, my anchor, my pillar of support in all the ways that really matter. Frail and broken. The year I bled and bled and bled and had to undergo a bunch of medical tests. I thought I would die. Did I want to die? A little. 2011... so cruel. The year my sister - my best friend, the one who truly listens to me... was diagnosed with tinnitus... some hearing loss. And other serious shit. Scary, hard times. Fuck you 2011... You broke my heart. But I survived.

Happy Birthday to the best sister ever. New Year's Day to you, my dear sister's birthday to us.

Ahh, shit. I said I would keep this quick and simple. The cat said to wrap it up! See the rose on the fat cat known as Max? Every year, in our backyard garden, beautiful roses bloom in early June, wither, and bloom again in late August. Maybe it's global warming... odd, a few roses were still alive in November! The lovely bright pink rose in the photos? The last rose.

I heard this feel-good song... "I Won't Worry" by a band called "This Club" back in November. Overtly poppy songs tend to aggravate me, but I love this song. Simple music video which looks like it was made on a $99 budget. Man in a business suit, straddling a bright orange bouncing ball. Cute dog. Clown. Girl releases balloons. Dude in a pink t-shirt sings with his band. Imaginary musical instruments. White people can't dance. Flash mob on a busy street corner. To echo the song's lyrics... in 2012, I won't worry 'cause I'm tired of worrying.

"This Club" was formerly known as "Hoarsebox". The band changed their name to suit their new direction and new sound. As "Hoarsebox", the band released this song called "Rosey":

Happy New Year to my Top 11 commenters in 2011: Pedro (#1? HUH?), Jude, Zerovoltage, Ami, Nix, Evilgenius, Sash aka Farm Boy, Lexie, Scart, Tina, and { K }. Manigong Bagong Taon sa inyong lahat (all my Pinoy Plurk Pals who've already greeted me): Andoy, Billycoy, Fritz, Jepoy, Joiz, JorgeJee, Jun.anteola, and The Deranged Writer. Mabuhay to everyone!

I used to drink whine until I took an arrow in the knee. Now I drink... Fus Rosé Dah Saignée.

Au revoir,
Massa aka "fruity oaty bar"

P.S. 2012? Hopefully, no more 9-month blog hiatuses. Ah, you only think you know me. LOL?

POST: I Won't Worry Over Blood, Endings, Greetings & Rosey Beginnings

BLOG: fruityÖaty

Hey. Christmas Day has once again come and gone. As I write this, 2 minutes remain until Boxing Day. Tardy is an understatement. In fact, 3 Christmases too late (2009, 2010, 2011) since I created the 2 videos and 2 photos in this post in 2009. I uploaded the videos on YouTube, but I never got around to blogging about it here. Apparently, I lost interest in my blog 2 years ago and was so incredibly bored back then... Poor Max. But... he's so cute! LOL.

I had to revise and re-upload the first video 'cause YouTube's content matching algorithm finally realized that I had speeded up copyrighted songs by 6%. Tried 50% more. Pass but distorted. Barely recognisable, yet somehow funnier now. Have you ever seen the music video for Bob Dylan's "Must Be Santa"? Odd drunken partygoers. A decrepit-looking Dylan. And polka! Bizarre. Funny. Dylan's 2009 Christmas CD "Christmas in the Heart" is whacked.

Outtakes! Pooper bloopers set to an accelerated "Here Comes Santa Claus" by Bob Dylan (the person giggling is my sister who tried to get Max's attention so that he would "look up"):

My sister's cat has a high tolerance for my stupid human hijinks. The Queen is not amused:

My annual self-portrait holiday snap... in 2009. Did I do it for 2010 and 2011? Probably. THIS:

Bananas?! Bananas. Dear 2009 SELF: What the fuck was this composition about? Hi, crazy.

Belated Merry ChristMax from the fat cat. Tick tock, clock. It's Boxing Day now... Sleepy. BYE!

Au revoir,
Massa aka "fruity oaty bar"

P.S. OK, so a few of you already saw this 2 years ago. Recycling jokes? Bah, humbugs. :-P

POST: Must Be Santa Cat... Here Comes Santa Pooper Scooper Bloopers

BLOG: fruityÖaty

Hi. Welcome to another edition of Pinkspotting Photography Project Brought to You via a leisurely tour along the Queen Street West corridor while making a Funny Face. Think Pink! (Hey Juuude, didn't anyone ever tell you that a troll will eat the hand that feeds it cookies? I piggy promise... NO asta, cazzo, fallo, fava, minchia, membro, pisello, pistolino, uccello & verga in here. I Pinky swear to tell the truth... nothing but the truth or Dare Cookies.)

So hop on the flying Pink Shortbus and relax into your comfy cushy seat. First, we'll pop in a DVD of Funny Face, an American musical film starring the fabulous Audrey Hepburn and Fred Astaire in the role of photographer "Dick Avery". (LOL WUT? I've recently rediscovered my love of old films.) Enjoy the complementary movie, cookies, and cold Limoncello Fresca.

Click on a thumbnail to view a larger version. First stop! Silver Snail Comics, 367 Queen Street West. Marvel at the plastic pink hand job chair. Next, a side trip to the Umbra Concept Store, north of Queen Street West at 165 John Street. A one stop shop for all your Umbra decorative houseware needs! Done shopping? Take a coffee break! Free cookies. Espresso?

(Those "Dare Simple Pleasures Moments Crème Brûlée Cookies" were just... OK, so-so. Meh. "Enjoy a moment of joy." LOL, false advertising! I'm telling ya, don't believe the hype.)

Our last stop, the "Condom Shack" sex shop, located near the "Friendly Stranger Cannabis Culture Shop". Buy a festive Willy Whack-It Penis Piñata and enjoy some window shopping:

On your next trip to Toronto, please consider our "King Street West" tour package. Awesome.

(Hey Juuude, I lied. Bwahahaha! I betcha a pile of cookies that you Googled again. Sucker!)

Au revoir,
Massa aka "fruity oaty bar"

POST: You Can Get a Little Wink If You Got a Little Pink in Your Swing

BLOG: fruityÖaty

As is custom, I will start by ritualistically typing a typo. Clickety-click, sound of fingers typing "a typo" (that's 2 words, done)! I shall now await Pedro's microscopic spelling and grammar check report. LOL, or not. Anyhoo... This post was Brought to You by the Letter Zzz. Lame jokes aside (followed by even lamer jokes), the real reason why I'm here today is to reply to a comment Petrus Patronus wrote exactly 11 months and 25 days ago. How late is late?

Huh. So a cat apparates in my presence whenever I'm eating? Well, that's just... creepy.

Pedro aka Petrus aka some dude's doppelgänger drops AWESOME comments, such as:

"2 weeks? Well, congrats for eventually releasing this post. On an unrelated note: Sigmund Freud postulates that during the 1st to 2nd year of existence, babies undergo a phase where they learn the "ability to give or withhold gifts at will". People who are stuck in this stage may over-analyse details and may continue to withhold things due to perfectionism. Perfectionism may ostensibly appear to be procrastination, when in fact the perfectionist is not bound by indolence but by abnormally high self-imposed standards. It is quite a breakthrough when an individual learns to relieve themselves of this burden of perfectionism. How many postings are left unpublished? This blog needs an enema! Haha, just kidding."

What would old Siggy say about kids who weren't toilet trained by their parents? I was toilet-trained by 2 nannies. Performance anxiety? I had a great comeback, too. But alas, my inner internet retard took over. So it's not a case of l'esprit de l'escalier (slow with witty retorts)... I lack wit. (LOL WUT? I'm predisposed to enjoy silly low-brow humour + poop & sex jokes.)

Click on a thumbnail to view a larger version. The other day, I bought a huge Tootsie Roll. I don't even LIKE Tootsies. Hard faux chocolate. "Whoah, it comes in Giant Bar size?" A curious kid in a candy shop. But unlike the naked boy who pesters animals about how many licks does it take to get to the Tootsie Roll center of a Tootsie Pop... OK, I was more vexed about the bar resembling a long piece of turd. And unlike the Tootsie boy, I LIKE smart owls.

The creepy Patronus LOLcats - Max the Fat Cat and Bad Cat aka "B-Cat":

Oh, that photo of a big bowl of stew (more like a soupy sauté)? Mom's dish of red peppers, tomatoes, celery, onions, garlic, herbs, spices, chicken stock, a bit of ground chicken and long squash from Aunt Cora's farm-like home garden. Yummy. And I don't even like squash.

Movement is imminent. Lurking in the bowels of cyberspace. Da-dum-da-dum-da-dum... Or maybe not. And yet another one of my silly videos starring a cat that looks like it might do something... but doesn't. So very... anti-climatic. Bad Cat (B-Cat) doing what he does best:

Wax apple on, wax apple off. Yawn. (I blame this entire post on cheap Tim Hortons lattés.)

Au revoir,
Massa aka "fruity oaty bar"

POST: To Squash and Stew... Or... To Stop, Drop, Pop and Tootsie Roll

BLOG: fruityÖaty

This post was Brought to You by the Letter B! To B, or not to B, that is the question. Let it B! Kids, today we demonstrate my 3 rules to churn out shallow posts devoid of pesky feelings:
1. Every day is Caturday! Retarded, sure. Refer to rules 38 & 39. (Hi Jude!)
2. Try to mention food and porn, preferably together. OFTEN. (Food porn!)
3. NEVER bitch about past, present or future jobs in your blog. (VERY BAD.)

Kids, never put a glass of liquid near a computer unless you want to break it... on purpose.

This post was also brought to you by cookie-induced sugar rush. Girl Guide Chocolatey Mint Cookies, a flavour sold for a limited time only in autumn by young girls across Canada. Made with environmentally unsustainable palm oil that requires deforesting huge swaths of rain forests. Nagging ethics aside, pop a trans-fatty cookie in your mouth. Now chew. Good?

Last box, too. Tempted to undo my 25-pound weight loss by eating all in one sitting. Resist. Resist in the same way that I should not be writing this post with a very ridiculous title. FAIL.

Serenity now, insanity later. But it's fucking hard to think when your head IS clear. (Crickets.) OK, so not your head. My head... 'cause that's the way my head rolls. Ahh, fuck it. Break #3.

Click on a thumbnail to view a larger version. Cookies and BOOBLESS spelled by a BOOB:

BOOBLESS. So, here's where I explain that bit. Kids, gather 'round! This is the tale of "Sir Oh Boobless" (SOB for short), an ex co-worker of yours truly. Whereas most people who have a psychotic break go on a mass killing spree,  SOB would vent out RAGE by kicking hapless office recycling bins and spelling words on a calculator. SRSLY. Calculator spelling, for the unaware, is the activity of insane people who punch numbers on a calculator and flip the calculator upside-down to read the words they spelled. For example, "71830" ("DEBIL") means "retard" in Polish. And "371830" (DEBILE) means "dumb" or "stupid" in French. (Now YOU try it. For fuck's sake, don't twist your neck craning! Flip the calculator upside-down.) I could've tried writing this post on a calculator, but evidently I'm so not flipping crazy enough. And I have a limited calculator spelling vocabulary.

Calculator spelling is for old folks. Prior to video games and internet porn. But SOB isn't old.

One day, while I was dropping off a fantastically written document on SOB's desk (SOB was away), I spied with my little eye a calculator with 55378008 (BOOBLESS) on it. I'm unsure why that photo is in black & white. Maybe I was in a hurry to snap a souvenir of that American Express moment. If I need a laugh, I look at that pic. I also inherited that SHARP calculator previously owned by a boob who wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed. No joke, I own it now.

I've never really been a huge fan of Scott Adams, the Dilbert comic strip author (he seems like such a dick), but even I find the following stuff hilarious (it's totally OK if you don't laugh):

The transcript of that short video (only 23 seconds, click the play button 'cause it's Caturday):
The Designer: This cat will say something. Then this other cat will say, "Yeah, right." It's like sarcasm. / The Boss: OH HO HO OH HA HO HA HA HA HO! / Dilbert: This explains so much.

Seriously, that explains so much. (Hello Jude, you owe me a pile of cookies since... 2004.)

Au revoir,
Massa aka "fruity oaty bar"

P.S. Next post, we will be covering ass to ass + other body parts. Just kidding, Uncle Hank!

POST: Boobless Boobs, Bummer, Bugger, Bitch, Biscuits and Fruity Bars

BLOG: fruityÖaty

As promised, my photos of the Whip It cast at TIFF 2009. For Part 1, read here. Whip It stars, left to right: Drew Barrymore, Ellen Page, Landon Pigg, Shauna Cross (wrote the Whip It screenplay based on her novel "Derby Girl"), Alia Shawkat, Marcia Gay Harden, Daniel Stern, Eulala Scheel, Kristen Wiig, Juliette Lewis, Zoë Bell, Eve, and Andrew Wilson. I have better pics of the cast at Ryerson University Theatre. Alas, they are lost... somewhere.

Details. Heck, I can't even remember what I had for breakfast this morning. Drew Barrymore wore a yellow dress that looked very M.C. Escher. And great shoes. Ellen Page, appearing fragile and lonesome, held hands with Drew nearly the entire time. Odd. I also remember:

1. Ellen Page is really SHORT. Pixie-sized. Pint-sized. Tiny. Little. Small. Diminutive. WEE.
2. Eulala Scheel (Marcia Gay Harden's daughter) poses exactly like her mom. Arms. Legs.
3. Eulala was 11-years old in 2009. In 2011, she's probably now taller than... Ellen Page.
4. "Oh. Is it possible... 2 people on that stage... shorter than ME? Dunno, I can't see. Argh."
5. SHORT ME + my shaky hands + my  Crap-Cam® 1.0 + night = very crappy fuzzy pictures.

Click on a thumbnail to view a larger version. Damn, nearly all my pics of stunt-woman extraordinaire Zoë Bell were crap. A giddy emotional Drew Barrymore with Canadian entertainment reporter Rick Campanelli:

Eve showing off her cheetah paw print chest tattoos, Andrew Wilson, and Rick Campanelli:

Drew Barrymore, Marcia Gay Harden + daughter Eulala Scheel, Daniel Stern, Kristen Wigg:

Singer-songwriter actor Landon Pigg, screenwriter Shauna Cross + Lilliputian Ellen Page:

Plagued by tall people blocking my view (the story of my life), I finally got closer to the stage:

So close but alas, Murphy's Law struck (also the story of my life)... my camera battery died:

Fast-forward to 2011. Lessons learned. Always carry spare batteries. Always back up your hard drives before they crash and you LOSE IT ALL. Ah, but once in a while, some things that were broken CAN BE FIXED. Some things that were lost CAN BE FOUND. And even the smallest person can change the course of the future. Wait... fuck, why am I quoting Lord of the Rings? Aaack. Damn it, I'm still coming up... short.

Au revoir,
Massa aka "fruity oaty bar"

POST: Whip It Movie @ TIFF, Part 2: Drew Barrymore, Ellen Page & Cast

BLOG: fruityÖaty