Movember

It wasn't going to happen, but now it is. Inspiration came from a great commercial I saw on TV tonight.



Then, a quick search on YouTube, and once again Google Chrome made me smile and gave me goosebumps.



Reasons for doing this:
1. I look like Freddie Mercury with one.
2. It helps raise awareness.
3. It helps raise money for prostate cancer.
4. I want to make the hipsters feel awkward.

So, if you can spare a dime or two, head over to my page; or, find another friend with a page and give it to them!

http://mobro.co/BrianCant

Remember, cancer sucks. Big time.

Me, as Freddie Mercury in 2010.

Bullying

We were all bullied. Some more than others. I certainly was. Mrs. Cant was what kids called me in grade 3. I got called gay and fag in high school by Jennifer Richardson ALL the time.

Yep. That's right. I named a person. So what? I'm sure she's grown up, by now. If she ever reads this blog, I'm sure she'll likely either a.) feel bad or  b.) feel right. Either way, I don't really care.

Rick Mercer's rant from yesterday about bullying. I think he says it all, so no need for me to elaborate...

Halloween-ie!

Oh Halloween! How much do I love thee? So many fun memories from so many fun, amazing nights!

2007 - Indiana Jones
This was our first year at Chris' annual Halloween party. We had so much fun! It's so hard to believe, but I barely knew this amazing group of people!

Looking for adventure!

Me and my new friend (and her girls).

Our group of ruffians (Vicky Pollard, Pirate Wench, Army Guy, and Indiana).

2008 - Mormons

Kind of a lame-o costume year, but we managed. Thus began a theme of going in a group for costumes, even if this group was 2. 

Can we tell you about this new religion type thing?

She was the 'it' girl at the party in 2008...

Take me home!

2009 - Stray Cats (or The Cats Who Couldn't Make it on Cats)
This was by far one of the best Halloweens EVER! The makeup was a blast to wear, I got to channel my best Tom Brady, and I got into a fight with a tree (it won). 

Tom Cat, Hello Kitty, Liza Meowie, Snagglepuss.

Kisses, or purrs?

Getting closer to that fight with the tree.

2010 - French Courtiers
First rented costume...we were either obnoxious or amazing (depending on what mood you were in). Note how Phil is our older brother...

Oh mon dieux!

Au chante

Bisous!

2011 - STAY TUNED! It's going to be amazing!

Thankful

With one of my favourite holidays - Thanksgiving - fast approaching, I've been thinking over the past few days of what I'm thankful for. While I could go on and on about all the things I'm truly thankful for, I'll leave it at a few.

I'm thankful for Kyle. He makes me laugh every day. He makes me smile. He makes me happy.

I'm thankful for my parents. They make me want to try harder.

 

I'm thankful for my brother and sister-in-law. They make me feel blessed to have such great siblings.

I'm thankful for my close group of friends. They make me realize how important it is to have people you love take part in the rich experiences of life.

 

 
 
 
 
 
 

I'm thankful for my job. I get to go to work each day and create things I can be proud of. I also get to meet some very interesting and entertaining people!

 

I'm thankful for many other things. I could go on.

Basically, I'm thankful that I'm so lucky.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Back to school!

If you're too school for cool... Kyle's least favourite line from Pink's awful song, "raise your glass" or whatever it's called always makes me shudder. Then, I think about school.

I've been thinking a lot about back to school this past week.

I used to loathe/love the last day of summer. No more suntanning, cards, tubing, wakeboarding, mischief. Time to wear the new clothes and crack open the new note books and pens. It was over and beginning all at once.

Side note: does anyone else remember wearing the new jeans and shirt to school only to realize that it was still 30 degrees out and sweat stinks...a lot?

Tomorrow is the first day. The first day back. The first day of the last year of their education. The firsts could go on and on.

For me, it's just another day now...

But, all this baby talk and raising a family talk has got me excited again for the inevitable (I hope, we hope) first day of ... kindergarten, school, elementary school, middle school (I shudder at that thought), high school, and post-secondary school.

I can't wait to walk our son/daughter to school on their first day. I can only imagine how much fun it was for my parents to do that with me. I remember being excited, but I don't know if I actually was...maybe I want to remember being excited and I was in fact, terrified. Regardless, I still remember being walked to school...being shown the way.

I hope that, this time, I'll be excited for them, even though I'm sure I'll be terrified! I can't wait to show them the way, as best as I can.

I can't wait for their first day of school, whenever it is.

I'll be the proudest dad on the block. Well, we'll be the proudest dads on the block.

Goodbye Jack

When I was home sick on Monday with a migraine and stomach pain (related?), I didn't wake up until around 11.

I came downstairs, interrupted Kyle who was watching Game of Thrones at his PC on his day off, and sat down at my computer.

I double-clicked on the little Gmail notification -- as usual there was a sale and A&F and something about 20% off 'redlines' from Hollister. Why I signed up for emails like this, I'll never know?

From there, I hit the tab for Towleroad (to see the latest in gay news), Tap That Guy (to see the latest in boys), Facebook (to see the latest in my social cirles), Vibrant Victoria (to see if people had talked about construction in Victoria), and the CBC (to actually read some good ol' fashioned NEWS!).

Seeing as how the CBC was the last tab I opened, it was the first one I saw.

"Jack Layton dead at 61" was screaming at me from the BREAKING NEWS box on their main page.

"Jack LAYTON DIED?!?," I yelled.

"What?!? Are you serious?," replied Kyle.

Silence.

I couldn't answer. Or, I didn't know how.

My mum has spent a lot of time telling me what it was like when she met Pierre Trudeau. She still gushes about him to this day.

In short, Jack was my Pierre.

Well, as close to a 'Pierre' as any politican can be in this 24/7 news cycle, Facebook, Twitter, you-name-it environment we live in now.

Here's why: I met Jack, twice.

The first time I met him I went, by myself, to an NDP rally at the Alix Goolden Hall in 2004 (I think. Maybe 2006?). It was a rally for all the local candidates for the federal election and I really didn't know if I was ready to drink the NDP's orange kool-aid.

The local people were fine; nothing special. But, Jack was something different. Something new.

A fighter. A politician. Slick. Engaging.

I voted Liberal.

The second time I met him was a few years ago on the street here in Victoria. He was actually between meetings (or something) and I ran into him. I recognized who he was. In fact, most other people around him did too.

I said, "hey! Welcome back," clearly not realizing he wouldn't remember me from a crowd of people five years ago.

Jack said, "thanks. I love it here. Feels great to be in such a nice city."

That was it. Nothing special. Nothing really worth noting.

Over the years, I'd come to see what other friends, like my good friend Ian, saw in him.

Jack Layton was honest. Sure, he was a shrewd politician. But, you believed him. You wanted to share his passion for a country you could be proud of.

Maybe not everyone I know appreciated his socialist leanings or his way of doing things. But, you couldn't argue with what he wanted to achieve: a Canada that cared for seniors, children, and for its environment.

For me personally, Jack was someone I looked up to, trusted, and wanted to have as my voice in government.

He was my Pierre, and I will miss him greatly.

Happy Pride

This past weekend we celebrated Victoria Pride. It's always a lot of fun getting together with our friends and our community to celebrate what makes us special and (oh heck) FABULOUS!

We started the weekend with a selection of gin and tonics at a BBQ with great friends, followed by a drag show and dancing at Paparazzi; we finished up with the pride parade and festival.

One of my favourite parts of the parade isn't the floats or the ridiculous costumes, it's the walk from the parade to the festival. It feels more like a march, not in defiance, but in true celebration.

The last float is always from a nightclub and it's playing the stereotypical (and awesome!) music you'd expect to hear at this type of thing. Everyone is happy, waving to friends, and secretly pointing to others and saying, "I KNEW he was gay," or, "I didn't know they had a kid AND a dog!" There is something empowering about walking with this group of people.

In fact, I always choke up a bit around the halfway mark. It's humbling to me.

This is what I see when I look ahead, behind, and around me:

Thousands of Victorians of all shapes and sizes, ranging from happy young singles to happy (wiser?) married couples with their kids and dogs in tow. It doesn't matter if they're gay or straight, married or not; what matters is that they are there for a good time AND to celebrate that, yes, some of us are different.

It's always fun and it reminds me that it's not just okay to be gay, but it's actually a tonne of fun being out and PROUD. I'm lucky to live in a community that, for the most part, celebrates its diversity. I have a group of friends, family, and co-workers that not only accept, but embrace that I'm gay.

So, happy pride to all of you!

You look FABULOUS!

My Goodbye to Canada's Mum

When I read the news (on Facebook, where most news is gathered now) that Betty Fox was in hospice, I cried. Canada's mum was dying. It seemed so unfair.

When I read the news that she had passed away, I cried. A lot.

Terry, the foundation named after him, his family, and especially his mother, have a very special place in my heart.

I've never really been able to put into words my intense feelings for Terry Fox and the Terry Fox Foundation. I was only a baby when Terry died. I didn't learn about him until I was around 10 years old. I didn't really pay much attention until I was in university.

But, for some reason I started to study Terry. I've spent countless hours learning about Terry's life. I own books, memorabilia, coins, and shoes. I've watched made for TV movies, news broadcasts, and documentaries. I've even downloaded a Rod Stewart song. All because it was associated with Terry.

Maybe this is why I care so much:

Every day, for 142 days, Terry ran the equivalent of a marathon.

He ran 5,373 kilometres.

On one leg.

Or maybe this:

Terry changed how most Canadians looked at cancer. Apparently, when he started his run, most people referred to cancer as, "the Big C." No one wanted to call it what it was out loud for fear of getting it, or passing it on. When Terry was forced to end his run in Thunder Bay because his cancer came back, Canadians started to give. By then, people were calling cancer what it was...out loud. People weren't afraid. They were motivated. Something needed to be done. Money needed to be raised. Hurting needed to stop.

Or this?

To date, the Terry Fox Foundation has raised over $550 million for cancer research.

No. It's this:

I met Betty once, when she was in town to celebrate the unveiling of the statue at Mile 0. I had her attention, just me and her, for about 3 minutes. She was in the Palm Court at The Fairmont Empress, waiting for the introduction to the Crystal Ballroom where she was going to be honoured by Victoria and its citizens.

The first thing that happened was that I shook her hand. Then I teared up. Then I said how glad I was that I was able to meet her and how much her commitment and Terry's run had impacted how I lived my life.

Betty told me that she was thankful for the kind words and that, "today has been an incredibly tough day for me. But, with young people caring as much as you do, I know that what I'm doing is worth it."

Rest in Peace, Betty. You're with Terry now.

It's our turn to keep running.

Go...Canucks!?

Well, it took a while, but my mum won.

I'm actually going to root, cheer, and hope for the Canucks. To note: this post comes post-playoff loss and post-riot.

But, a few weeks ago, we went to Vancouver (to see Wicked -- am-ah-zing!) and got caught up in the post-show, post-game crowds on Granville Street. Vancouver had won game two in overtime.

The goal was scored about two minutes before the show was set to begin and the entire audience inside the Queen Elizabeth Theatre erupted into a roar and cacophony of cheers and whistles. One friend (to remain anonymous) thought it was that the show was beginning. I still giggle when I think about that.

After the game, walking down Granville through the jubilant, beer-fuelled crowd, I started to feel this little sensation inside me.

I actually wanted the Canucks to win, AND I cared about it. My mum has been cheering for the Canucks for years, so I know she is happy I'm going to support them. I'm actually happy too. I've followed the Patriots for years, and I'm kind of lonely this far from Boston. I used to watch and cheer for the Leafs before the lockout (when I decided hockey was a tad...shall we say...boring).

Now, I'm in Victoria, close to Vancouver, cheering for a team that most people around me LOVE.

Call it mob mentality...actually DON'T! Please!

Whatever that little feeling was has grown. Next year, like 40 years previous, the Canucks will take a run for the cup. I'll be there, trying to stay involved and engaged, cheering for them.

So...

Go Canucks go! (Go Patriots, too!).

oprah@oprah.com

Today was the day to say goodbye. I won't write much here.

I was a fan, not an ultimate viewer. I made a conscious effort to watch most of Season 25. I grew to truly appreciate her as part of my week; my day. Prior to this year, I watched it off and on.

I have a lot of respect for her. Blending the woman with the brand, Oprah is second to none.

I'm sure she's not perfect. In fact, I know it.

But, she has given a lot of herself.

She has inspired me over this past year to become more comfortable with myself, my life, my position, and my beliefs.

She's part of the reason why I started this blog.

Today, I posted this quote on my Facebook page and on Twitter:

"I hold true to the belief that everyone has a story to tell, and from every individual's experience there is something we can all learn."

Farewell Oprah.

Google Goes Gaga

And...I love it.

I did drink the kool-aid. I use chrome (ie9 couldn't handle blogger) and I love it. I listen to Gaga and I love it.

Call her the new Madonna. The next Britney. I love her zany costumes. Her stage presence.

Her joie de vivre.

But, most of all, I love her music. It makes me happy. It makes me want to sing. To smile. To laugh. To perform Halloween numbers with my word: "chin(s)" written in big black lettering on my white t-shirt.

I realized the other day when I posted this video on Facebook that I don't deal well with angry or mean people. I know those of you reading who know who I am are thinking, "is he serious?!"

Yes.

Although I might be one of those angry, mean people from time to time, I realize that I need to at least TRY be more happy and less angry.

So, what's the connection to Facebook and thinking about mean people is that often - around my friends especially - I'm afraid to tell people I like something because I'm worried they will either tell me things like (and I paraphrase):

• Really? You like Oprah. You know she's in love with Gayle.
• Lady Gaga?! Seriously? I'm so over her. Lady Blah Blah should be her name.
• Glee? You still watch that stupid show?
• Coors Light? What are you? A girl?!

Yes. I love Oprah. I love Gaga. I LOVE Glee. And, sometimes an ice cold Coors Light hits the spot the way nothing else can.

These things, and many others, make me happy. Very happy. They help me FEEL. They help me deal with the bad stuff all around us.

So, you know what?

No more backing down when you're mean or angry towards me when I tell you I like something. It's time I tell you without being afraid about you might say.

Are you ready?

Paws up!

Elizabeth Rex or Lizzie's Sexy Rexy

So, my darling husband is playing the lead male (female) role of Ned Lowenscroft in Elizabeth Rex at the Langham Court Theatre in Victoria, BC.

The shows start on June 8 and run through to June 25.

Tickets are $18 unless you're old (65+) or cheap (student) - then they're $16.

This means the inevitable dinner at home by myself every night, really only seeing him when he gets home after the show and it's time for bed, and of course, going to see it with all our friends!

I'm biased as to how good he is, but I'm very excited to see it.

Timothy Findley wrote the play and I loved The Wars, so this must be good!

If you have a spare night and want to see some good theatre in a relatively comfy seat, then go see Elizabeth Rex!

Springtime in Paris?

This time last year, we just arrived home from our honeymoon here:

This year, we were here:

I wasn't disappointed that we were in Victoria, but I was certainly missing that je ne sais quoi only Paris can offer.

However, I was surprised on Saturday afternoon with this snack:

My favourite wine, baquettes from Fol Epi and, my absolute favourite - macarons.

Needless to say I was touched, salivating, and in heaven.

It's not Paris, but without an extra $5,000, it's the next best thing!

Bisous!

It Gets Better

It does get better.

This commercial aired during the May 3 episode of Glee on Fox.

Amazing. Or, if you're really hip and trendy, am-ah-zing!

What should I say? OR What do you want to be when you grow up?

What should I write?

That's a problem I've been having for about a week now. I spent all this time making my blog look like I wanted it to - I think I achieved that - but not much time narrowing down what I wanted to write about.

A co-worker told me to, "think about where you want to be in five years and make sure that what you write about now is something you want people to see then, not now."

That was a good point, but it also made me think. What do I want to be when I grow up? Or, better yet, what did I want to be when I grew up? Now that I'm 30, I kind of feel like I have grown up.

I'm happily married to the love of my life. We own a condo (i.e. mortgage), have fabulously great friends and family, and I work at what I feel is my 'dream job'.

I've spent such a long time trying to think about what I wanted to be when I grew up that I kind of grew up without noticing.

Now, that doesn't mean I'm 100% mature, close to death (I hope!), or have achieved everything I had planned. But, it does mean that for the first time in a long time, I'm happy. I'm happy and proud of who I am and who I have become.

As my dad said when I came out to him (he's a man of few, but very meaningful words), "are you happy? Because as long as you are happy, I'll be happy. That's all I will ever care about because I love you and I want you to be happy."

Guess what, dad!? I'm happy, and I like this feeling.