TIFF.

What a gay name.

TIFF.

Even though its name resembles something comparable to a pussy fart, the actual festival is amazing.

I was there for the duration of the festival last year seeking out parties, looking for connections in the industry and of course tracking Megan Fox. Although I never met Megan (which made it rather pointless for me to be roaming around with a tire iron and a handful of KY) I did come across tickets to a party where Ed Norton and Danny DeVito were promoting their new movie Leaves Of

Grass

I wake up alone on Mick Richards couch with my dick in my hand.

Just the way I like I like it.

I check my cell and have more txts than usual, so after glancing at a few of them which all seem very similar in content

KINGSTON, leave me alone.

I remember coming back here hammered last night and making about forty-five booty calls. I can only recall one chick answering who sounded sleepy but hung up on me immediately when I

asked her who is this?

How rude.

I put on my pants on, head downstairs, fire up a smoke and fix myself a Caesar.

Mick Richards is in his office and he looks rough.I ask him what his plans are for the day and he says I can take a break...wanna go for a drive?

In Mick Richards language that means do you want to cruise around all day in my drop top smoking cigarettes until its time to drink?

Yes.

Yes I do.

The sun is shining, Van Morrison is playing and Im converting cigarette after cigarette into ash while we journey the streets of Toronto.

God I love Mondays.

We hit a beer store, then drive from Yorkville down to Queen Street and back again making sure to pull into the lanes that are moving the slowest just to keep things moving at a laid back pace.

Jimmy Dylan txts and tells us to pick up him and Janis Cass so I tell him well be right there.

He asks, How will we know what car youre in?

I say, dont worry. You wont miss us.

And they dont.

We drop Janis Cass off at The Hoetel so she can start getting ready because were supposed to meet with Trish Stratus tonight.

Trish Stratus is in the WWE.

Shes a hot wrestler.

Im considering bailing because Im so hung-over Im finding it difficult to be obnoxious and furthermore I dont like hanging out with bitches that have bigger balls than me but I say nothing for

the moment.

We pick up My Sister and the four of us go out for something to eat near Ossington and Dundas at

this cool little pizza joint that is fucking amazing.

Except for the food.

The food is shit.

Doesnt affect me though because the only thing I consume is a beer that does nothing but

worsen my sickly disposition. Everyone finishes eating; we pay the bill and swear to never come back again

Unless of course we happen to have a craving for shit, then this place would top the list.

Mick Richards drives Jimmy Dylan and I to The Hoetel so we can get ready to meet HE-MAN

I mean Trish Stratus

I go down to the lobby to harass some of the girls but its just sit in the lobby playing on my iPhone.

I get a text from Paul Garfunkel (who I met earlier in the week) that says he has some invitations for me to attend Edward Nortons private party at Cheval for his film Leaves of Grass which is screening at the festival.

I rush up stairs with a rock hard boner.

Its like Im not hung-over at all.

I tell Jimmy Dylan and Janis Cass about Nortons party.

Micky Jones (whom I also met earlier in the week) txts and asks if I drink red wine. I tell him I drink anything alcoholic and then Jimmy Dylan, Janis Cass and I leave to meet up with him and Paul Garfunkel.

We jump into a taxi that reeks like feces.

Im worried the scent is going to stick to my clothes (that I borrowed off Jimmy Dylan) so I ask the cabbie can you roll down all the windows and do something about that shit smell please?

He says, What smell?

Never mind.

We pull up to this place called Spice Route, which is a fantastic place to eat.

If you dont mind eating food that tastes like crap

Paul Garfunkel and Micky Jones have a table outside with a bunch of booze on the go already. We join them and the waitress comes over with three more wine glasses and a bottle of red.

Micky Jones hands us our invitations.

Sweet.

Micky Jones says he has an extra invite, so I jump on the horn and try to track down some attractive hoochies that I havent slept with yet but all I have in my address book are numbers for girls who wont pick up my calls or ones that say things like you only call if me if you need money or want to get laid.

They dont know that it hurts me when they say shit like that.

Just kidding

Its totally true.

I observe the talent at Spice Route to see if anyone is worthy of coming upstairs with us but no one

is.

Not even any off the staff was sexable.

I drink my wine and then drink Jimmy Dylans then Janis Casss. Paul Garfunkel pays the bill and then the five of us stroll over to Cheval. I have pretty low expectations for the party because of Heffners shindig (I went to a playboy party where Hef was supposed to be earlier in the week which was a bit of a bust but Robert Duvall was there so it was still cool) but when we arrive out front of Cheval, there is a big commotion.

We show one of the door guys our invites and instantly were treated - not like the riff raff I am - but like the royalty I tell everyone I should be treated like.

I could have kissed Micky Jones.

Were escorted over the red carpet by our own private security through a concealed entrance, past the front of the bar towards the stairs. There are groupie hoes grabbing at my jacket, begging and pleading with me "take me with you! Take me with you!

Jesus Christ bitches.

Get a grip.

I look at all of them and laugh, not because I'm an asshole (even though I am) but because I actually relish in the bogus attention.

I feel famous.

When we get upstairs I hit the bar to order a round of drinks and when I go to pay the bartender she declares, its an open bar.

I jizz a little and then tip the waitress fifty bucks just for the fuck of it.

Again I could have kissed Micky Jones

On his bag

Open mouth.

Things get very messy rather quickly. Im ordering four drinks at a time and gulping down as many of them as I can, leaving the rest scattered around the patio.Paul Garfunkel takes a stack of my business cards and starts handing them out to strangers telling them hes me.I start chatting with two bored looking broads who are Graphic Design Geeks.

After speaking to them for five minutes I figured out why they looked bored.

Its because they were boring.

I head back over to the bar for some more shots and Jimmy Dylan is talking to some Piece Of Meat. I approach her and as she introduces herself, I stare at her like the piece of meat she is. The Meat sticks out her hand so I go to give her some change but she just laughs and flirts with her eyes at me.

I lean in towards her neck, slide my arm around her midsection and whisper, "I want to fuck your brains out" then grab her ass.

It doesn't faze her, which is good because I was half expecting to get slapped.

I turn away, drain a few more shots and leave another big tip.

So I'm basically paying for my booze at an open bar

Idiot.

The Meat comes over and stands in front of me but before I can stick my hand up her skirt to let her know I have real feelings for her, she rams her tongue down my throat, which is fantastic

If you like kissing old broads.

I order more shots for The Meat and I. Paul Garfunkel stumbles over and asks me if I want to meet this guy Danny. I tell him I'm not really into dudes but I go along with him anyway, which is a good

move because it turns out Danny is actually Danny DeVito.

You know

That really tall drink of water that was in the movie Twins.

Paul Garfunkel shouts "hey Danny! Danny! This is my friend Kingston. He's a producer" and he gives Danny DeVito my business card.

Danny must have lost it because he never called to hang out.

Dannys there with the hot chick from cheers, his wife, Rita. I look her up and down - which turns out to be a short glance because shes only about two feet tall - then ask her how shes doing.

She smiles sweetly and says fine.

I feel a little uncomfortable because Im pretty sure shes undressing me with her eyes so I leave

and head over to a group of hot chicks way out of my league and start barking at them.

Literally

I was barking at them.

Im beyond trashed.

I turn around and head over to the bar where The Meat and Jimmy Dylan are and Meat says, "I'm leaving now, if you want to come home with me to fuck."

The nerve.

What does this Piece Of Meat take me for?

Some sort of piece of meat?

Besides, why would I leave a perfectly good party to go sex some Meat at her husbands place

when there is a perfectly good restroom not ten feet away?

Sometimes meat can be so absentminded.

I suggest the bathroom but she looks down her nose at me and says no way like shes never been fucked over a toilet before.

Yeah right.

I tell her Im not leaving and ask for her number. She says Jimmy Dylan has it already, get it off him then departs to go home and do whatever pieces of meat do when they go home alone.

I bark at the bartender, howl at the moon, order some more shots, tip big and notice that the bartender is really, really hot

Under the cover of darkness

I can tell she has no real interest me by the way she ignores me when I tip big and order things like her name and phone number.

If she only knew how close Danny DeVito and I are.

I head back over to where DeVito was sitting to hit on his wife but theyre gone

Or perhaps theyre just stuck behind something short

Edward Norton is beside me talking with some other cool looking guy and I'm blind drunk so I figure fuck it and walk up to them with my hand out.

Norton shakes it, which totally catches me of guard because I was going to ask him for some change but I quickly switch my demeanor and introduce myself.

He acknowledges me to his buddy and again I stick out my hand and receive nothing but a handshake.

Cheap fuckers.

I look at the two of them and say Fuckwill you guys come do a shot with me at the bar? but they politely decline.

I press a little saying, "really? Not even one?" And Ed Norton says "maybe later."

I think to myself, fuck later. I'm doing it now and sit down in their booth.

My friends are baffled.

Jimmy Dylan and Janis Cass come sniffing around so I yell, come sit down. Youre embarrassing me.

Paul Garfunkel, Micky Jones and The Graphic Design Geeks come in and stand with their backs to Norton. The hostess brings over some sandwiches for the celebrities and then asks me what I would like to drink.

I can tell by the way she's looking at me she thinks I'm someone important.

Idiot.

There are a couple broads sitting beside me so I ask them what are you two drinking? and one says Vodka Pineapple so I tell the hostess Ill have one of thoseand can I get some shots brought over here? to which she replies no problem sir

Sir?

Fuck you.

Jimmy Dylan says hes starving and eats the chicken out of all of the celebrity sandwiches, then places the tarnished bread back onto the plate. The hostess returns with a Vodka pineapple and a

26er of Grey Goose and starts flipping over shot glasses.

26 of them

She starts pouring the shots and when theres only a few left to fill, Paul Garfunkel falls ass first onto the table and takes out a bunch of drinks.

What a drunk.

His spill happens very quickly and nobody really cares too much but Paul Garfunkel pulls himself

together, stands up, looks around at everyone and says, "Okaywho pushed me?"

Just when shit can't get any funnier, this old guy sits down beside Jimmy Dylan and says,"mmmm sandwiches"and begins gnawing on the flawed bread that Jimmy Dylan had already molested.

The guy eating the sandwiches is Ed Nortons girlfriends father. Her name is Shauna Robertson and shes some bigwig movie producer.

Her dad is a hang gliding instructor.

He and Jimmy Dylan start talking.

Paul Garfunkel, whos covered in booze and embarrassment, leaves without saying goodbye.

I do a bunch of shots with the Vodka Pineapple Broads and a few with Micky Jones and The Graphic Design Geeks. It hits 2:00 AM and they shut the open bar down.

Jimmy Dylan and Janis Cass split.

I head downstairs where theyre still serving at a cash bar until 4:00 AM with Micky Jones and The Graphic Design Geeks. One of The Geeks seems interested in me but that could just be my ego talking, though it really doesnt matter because as soon as I hit the bar I meet a couple of whours right off the bat.

I only call them a couple of whours because of the way they were dancing

Like a couple of whours

I buy everyone in my group as well as the whours a round of drinks and everyone starts dancing

if you can even call it that

It was more like everyone trying to keep from falling over on a dance floor amidst a crowd.

I start making out with this chick that looks like Megan fox.

She tells me her names Megan.

I decide her name is going to be Megan Coyote.

Anyway it hardly makes a difference whether this bitch is a fox, a coyote or a platypus, the point is she looks like a fox and I want to sex her brains out. I ask her to come for a smoke with me but she declines. I tell her Im going for one but Ill be right back. Dont fuck anything else.

She smiles at me like shed already fucked something else.

Should have called her Megan Pig.

While Im outside I meet some girl who jots her number down on my arm. She says, You look kind of drunkdo you want me to write my name down too? so I shout, Im not going to forget your fucking name" but already dont remember what it is.

Whoever she is leaves and I turn around and come face to ass with this Trashy Blonde Bird and start making out with her.

After a small kissing session, The Trashy Blonde Bird and I head inside and you wouldnt believe what I saw

Megan Pig is making out with some other dude.

How rude.

I figure I shouldnt have let the mongrel out of my sight but I still have the Trashy Blonde Bird hanging off me so I guess shell have to do.

I stumble back over to The Graphic Design Geeks and Micky Jones who pays for another round of drinks. I neck mine and ask The Trashy Blonde to go out for another smoke. As were smoking and making out, I pull her in close and say I feel an amazing connection with you and would love to continue partying somewhere else.

Which was a lie.

Now only wasnt it amazing but I felt no connection whatsoever.

But I did however, feel her tits.

Shes grinning like a fool in love so I ask do you have any booze at your place? Id love to just hang out, listen to some music and have another drink with you.

She says yes. Would you like to come over?

Umya think?

She wants to locate her friend before we bail so we find her, she introduces me and then The Trashy Blonde Bird and I leave.

We get to her place, which is a basement apartment God knows where and as I look around for something to steal in the morning, she fixes us some Jack Daniels and Ginger ale.

We head out to her driveway to smoke where she lays spread eagle on the hood of her landlords car while I finger sex her.

After a brief period of heavy petting, we head inside and listen to a few Beatles tunes until she says

Im a little sleepy...would you like to stay over?

Slut.

The Trashy Blonde Bird leads me to her love nest where we continue to fondle one another like a couple of high school students. We get naked and when I try to put it in and she says, "wait! Do you have a condom?"

I roll my eyes and say "no" and start to try and put it in again.

And again she stops me.

"Wait!"

I say "now what?" and she says I have some condoms in the bathroom cabinet and motions for me to go get one.

Fuck.

I hate condoms.

Who invented that shit anyway?

Let's take the most pleasurable experience in life (other than drinking, smoking cigarettes and masturbating) and dull it down so you that you can almost feel it, but not really

Anyway, I open up her vanity and sure enough, just above her herpes cream, underneath her hemorrhoid control, is a box of condoms.

Fucking things. I plot to stab holes in them but figure Ill just pull it off while I have her bent over, licking her ass and return to the bed smirking.

I struggle to put one on then once my dick is wrapped up and starting to go soft I burry it in her for a while but dont experience a thing. I flip her over to get a nice view of her ass and start licking away at it, which distracts her enough for me to pull off the condom, upright myself and slide my (medium) cock back in her.

Its the oldest trick in the book.

Dont judge me.

Im clean.

I beat her up from behind while pulling her hair with my left hand and squeezing her enormous tit with my right. She turns to look at me but I feel so guilty about not wearing a condom I bellow,

dont look at me.

Its better that way.

Just as Im about to cum, I pull out and shoot my load right onto her foot.

Everything goes silent for a moment.

After the awkwardness of emptying the contents of my sac onto her sole passes, I notice I feel ill from all the motion of making sex and spring up to empty the contents of my stomach into her toilet.

I puke and it hurts like hell.

I finish yakking, peel myself off the bathroom floor, rinse my mouth out with a little Jack Daniels then crawl into her bed, open mouth kiss her good night and pass out

My eyes open and Im horny as fuck.

I turn the Trashy Blonde Bird over to see whether I have to start sprinting or if she's worth a second turn in bed and to my surprise - but delight - shes hot.

Not sure what her thoughts are on me but I am sure that I dont care.

I throw on a condom (just for show) and burry it home once again.

And once again, I turn her around, lick her ass and pull it off.

I have her screaming her head off by the time I have to cum and when I do, I pull out, aim at her foot but miss and watch it go to waste as it hits her duvet.

Disappointed, I lay down to relax.

She begins to speak about her future and what shes looking for in her prince charming as do most women speculating on what life will be like when theyre married and no longer whours but I quickly kybosh the conversation when I tell her I'm not really into relationships and start to put on another condom on.

Again, just for show...

Same routine.

I sex her with it on, turn her over, lick her ass, pull it off, aim it at her calf, miss, shoot it on her duvet and then finally pass out in a pile of used, unused condoms.

I wake up to her talking to me.

Like, shes in mid sentence.

She must not know I fell asleep.

I say a couple of um hums and then start playing with her clit but she tenses up and tells me

shes sore.

I promise her I'll go slow.

Which I did

Until I started hammering away at her

I turn her around, lick her ass pull off the condom, toss it back in and shoot my DNA all over her duvet.

I didnt even bother to aim at anything.

Im getting antsy and since the Trashy Blonde Bird is no longer able to make the sex, I get up, get dressed and ask for her phone number. She inquires about the one written on my arm (which someone wrote in a sharpie) and I tell her "it's my own...so I don't forget"

She rolls her eyes at me but enters her number in my phone anyway and then I leave.

I have no idea where I am.

I pass a couple of people sitting on the curb and ask them where the next main intersection is but they dont speak any English and just point me in a random direction.

So I follow it.

I was at TIFF (what a gay name) for another four days, went to a private party for The Imaginarium Of Doctor Parnassus where Collin Farrell was supposed to be but never showed up, however Marilyn Manson made an appearance and hit on a girlfriend of mine. I went to another party the following night where I picked up some chick who was hanging out waiting to sex a DJ, until I told her I was a director and she came home with me instead (idiot) and over the course of the next couple days I slept with a few rather large women even though I didnt want to.

I never met Megan Fox so I never had the chance to club her and drag her into an alley.

Sad.

I dont really have any other use for all the nets and tranquilizer darts I bought.

Fin.