always a good time.

This is what happens when my family gets together with a MacBook close by. This time we were in Jasper, AB.

From left to right: myself, Aunt Laura, Bike, and mom in the background.

Enjoy.

a whole new world

this may be one of the only really funny things I ever do, and I'm cool with that.

Happy New Year from the Schmidt Kids

Watch the magic as I, once again, trick my sister into thinking we're taking a photo - in video mode. I've watched it almost 100 times I think.
May the new year bring happiness and success to you all.
Cheers!

me and pretty

Almost 2 years ago, I briefly met a gentleman named Bernard Purdie. He was playing a show with Cut Chemist here in Toronto. I shook his hand. To most that doesn't mean much, yet what many don't know, is that "Pretty" Purdie is the most recorded drummer of all time. I really don't need to sit here and list his credentials, because if you have the time you should do that yourself. The list is staggering (he's recorded on over 4,000 albums).

I came across this video earlier today and it simply reminded me of "the passion" (direct Lizard King quote). It reminded me that it's not the task to learn or love something; it's the love. As I sat and watched Purdie simply tap the drum skins, I remember that this is what passion looks like. A love for doing what you do. It's that kind of passion that makes me believe in everything I love doing. I believe true passion is not giving a shit about the outcome, but more just looking at your objective and jumping into bed with it, with only time on your side.

Go have fun doing what you love everyone, and maybe watch a little "Pretty" while you're at it.

have a nice fucking day!

I have no idea what provoked these. I think it's because every time I see the image directly above, I utter the words "have a nice fucking day!", because it just screams energy, even though it's insanely grotesque haha. Come to think of it, most of them are pretty fucking ugly. Enjoy, and use them in any way you'd like. You can't say quality blogging is dead.

"YTV, pull that shit down!"

Mike and I recorded the Basement Edition of Talkin' Schmidt last night. The topics include:

BK: Lego vs. Legos , Excess Disney Sequels, Useless Hand-held Phone Tactics, Backpackers, Call of Brutal Children

Andy: Matilda and Satanic Messages, Ex Girlfriend w/ Boyfriend Etiquette, Anonymous Donors, Vegetable Commercial Motifs / Dad vs. Dolphins

Collectively: Specific Souvenir Requests, Chicken Soup for the Damaged Readers Soul

It was all filmed quite quickly and efficiently. Seeing as we haven't filmed an episode in almost a year, the topics flowed rather smoothly. The Crown Royal didn't hurt things either. Christmas time will do that to you

non-stop-summer

Here we go again.

Another year, another week of golf with hilarious old guys in Michigan.

Lots of golf, lots of beer, lots of laughs.

I'll be back on Friday.

the list

10 Reasons Why I Want to Marry an Asian

They Age Well.

Even to this day, I'll walk through Chinatown and still double-take matured asian women. The strange thing is, when you go over to an asian girls house to meet her parents, the mom is usually just as attractive as the daughter. I can only assume this is due to years of drinking green tea instead of coffee, holding umbrellas when it's sunny out, and special attention to personal appearance. On top of that, they don't gain weight. I've seen 80 year old ladies who are probably the same weight as when they were in high school.

Her Rich Parents.


I can honestly say I've never met a poor asian family. Sure, I've seen them on the streets before, but I bet even the poor looking ones have a lot of money stashed away in old bags of white rice. They (as a race) have such an incredible work ethic and only really accept success from themselves, and their peers. It's the same reason why Asians own, have made, designed, or sold you pretty much half of everything you see and own. The dominant two businesses I've caught on to (in terms of families with money), comes from either owning convenience stores or restaurants. I've had friends who's parents have owned one of those (or multiple franchises) and drive Lexus' when their 'Cedes are in the shop.
Her parents will support her and I in times of need, and in times when we don't need it at all. Her dad will take me to his rich golf course and I will kick his ass off the tee, but his Asian precision will kill me on the green.

The Future.


Let's just say that when the Asian populace has power over everything, I'll have a head start. I can't really decide on any more jokes for this bit, so I'll move on.

The Cute Kids.

For starters, I have no idea what my kid would look like if I procreated with an asian honey. I'm counting on the strong asian genetics to wipe out any trace of gingerism my kid may have, which is cool. I'm not really keen on the survival of my own race, because I'd rather be a dying breed than part of a thriving sun-burnt populous.
All I want is a fat, asian, buddha baby. Even more than that, I want a pregnant asian wife. She'll passively complain about her back and holy shit will I be there to help her. I'm pretty sure my asian kid would never learn how to walk because I'd never put it down. I'm also sure I'd never have to buy my baby clothes either, because my asian in-laws would smother it in weird fobby shit and my parents would buy it even more baby clothes, just so it wouldn't have to wear that weird fobby shit.

The Food.

Simply put, asians love their food. There's not a single asian on this planet who doesn't love to eat. Not only do they know how to eat, but they know how to cook. They don't really have a choice. Do they? I've always assumed that every asian has had a crazy grandma around them since birth, constantly holding a hot plate of food. I'm almost certain that a knack for cooking is just an inherent gene they all have. Aside from that, I'm sure her parents will own a restaurant anyway. A restaurant that would openly feed me at no charge until 5am.

The Fun.

I've always been a great admirer of the asian culture. Not so much that I brush up on my Japanese characters in my spare time, I just like to observe. One thing that I've always known: Asians love their fun. They usually travel in huge groups, soberly running down the street laughing in smiling, probably coming or going to karaoke and bubble tea. And I don't blame them. Not only is most of that clean shit really fun, but the ones doing it are usually hilarious. The fine balance is finding a wife who can not only lay into the booze now and then, but can challenge me and not cop-out after two cups of sake.

The Sex.

I can only deduce that it would still be good after years of marriage. We'd eat, go for a run together, and then bone. Rad.

I'm Not Picky About It.

I've seen every shape and form of asian girl, and none of them really sour the relationship thing. Everything from straight-up American-apple-pie-accent, to the straight off the boat variety; it's all kinda cute. Chinese, Japanese, Thai, Korean. Kim-chi, Sashimi, Pad Thai, Egg Roll. I'm not picky about it.

The Smarts.


Asian or not, my wife has to stand on her own feet intellectually. The last thing I want is to do all the talking for the extent of our marriage. I don't want to talk about how donkeys have the loudest farts in the animal kingdom for the rest of my life. I need a lady who can teach me a thing or two every once in a while. So why not marry an asian? Lord knows they've got the brains. I think that's the beauty about being with somebody who's career relies mainly on smarts. She'll come home all stressed from work and I'll make dinner, kiss her on the forehead, pinch her butt, put on an album, and then paint her something. It's a Ying-Yang thing.

The Respect.

I want to one day be walking down the street with my Asian better half, see another white guy doing the same, and then hi-five each other as we pass. No words will be exchanged. We just both know we did it. Later that week, I'll show up to a backyard party with my Asian better half, and get glared at by all the other white dudes who married Plain-Jane white chicks with brat kids. Those same brats will tease my Asian youngster. My kid will really want to beat up those kids, because daddy taught him/her not to take shit from anyone.

If only it ever learned how to walk.

assault and pepper

Hey Friends!

I've not been a slack as of late. It was just old Ted Rogers holding our internet signal ransom for several days. Yet, a lot has happened.

I might as well start with last Thursdays show at Call The Office in London.

The night itself was an overall success. Seeing as I don't have Facebook, I never really know who's "attending" and who's not. I'd heard word that many old friends were confirmed guests, and nearly all of them showed! This made for some, well, I'll just say interesting events. Even great friend, past-bandmate, and wonderful human in general Nathan Albion made his appearance. Dan and I used to be in a band with Nathan called Gerald Pessy way back in the day. We also almost won our highschool Battle Of The Bands together after only two weeks of playing our instruments.


The show also went quite well. There's a young and shakey kid doing sound at CTO nowadays, which caused us a bit of sweat. Aparently the show sounded good from the croud. People seemed to respond well to the new material. Even the new-new material (a near remix of an untitled song that had been played at several shows) went off without a hitch. That new version is pretty awesome, and a lot more fun to play, even though I stole the beat from a Josh Ritter album.
I have to mention, the Call The Office stage has heat like no other club. I'd rather play in the desert than feel the lights of that place. I always bring a change of clothes to those shows because, combining the heat with the vigor I play with, always makes for a sweaty performance.

The next morning, after some delicious King's Inn Diner lunch, we made for the road. I drove. Upon arrival, we all split for a Triple S before the show. I got Chippy's, located directly across the steet. If you've never eaten there, and have an appreciation for fish & chips, boot your ass over there as soon as possible. We then showed up for sound check.


I'll be honest, and I've said before, Lee's Palace scares the shit out of me. It's a massive venue that has seen some of the best bands on the planet play since before you were born. The walls of the place just ache with history. Not only is it one of the most notorious, but the best sounding clubs in the city. So naturally it was a bit nerve-racking packing our gear in it's hollow state. All of the bands were cool, except the bill didn't have any flow whatsoever.

The order went as follows: college funk, hue, hip-hop, then metal. Goofy.

We were rushed going on, seeing as the previous band ran late. I was literally still tightening my stands while Darcy tinkered the opening chords of our set. A great amount of people showed up, except we didn't make any money because they were all on the guestlist haha. S'all good. We payed for our gas money the night before.

Afterward we all hit Dance Cave and danced uncontrollably. Kevin Black and I jammed so fucking hard to Arcade Fire. I'm pretty sure we created our own dance circle in the middle of the floor just because nobody wanted to be hit by our flailing limbs. Atta boy. Another story that deserves some attention is actually quite funny. Minutes before we left after packing our gear, a fight broke out only a few feet from us. The cops showed up, and one of the guys who sucker-punched another dude approached us and told him to take his wallet. We said no, so he kicked it under our van. All I did for the next ten minutes was stare at the guy while he was being questioned by the cops. But why would he do this? It's simple really. The oldest in the book.

See, when a cop questions you for something illegal, all you really need to do is chuck your wallet away. That way, upon questioning, you can make up any address you feel like and the cops would be none the wiser. You'll never recieve a ticket and never pay a fine.

The punchers girlfriend noticed me eyeing him up and pleeded with me to not rat him out. To be honest, the only reason I didn't was because Darcy was driving and didn't want to get involved. Lucky him, because I was drunk and wanted justice. The most funny part is, she was pleeding with me as I was sitting in a van full of people, and after I continued to shove everything she said to the ground, my only reply to her was:

"Na na na na na na na na, BATMAN!!!"

We all had a good laugh at her expense right then and there.

I went home after that and slept. Then! Just when life couldn't get any better! I awoke to tickets to that afternoons Jays game against the Kansas City Royals! My good friend Andrew Siu and his lovely girlfriend treated Blair and I to some free tickets behind the plate. That was fucking awesome. I don't really have any good stories about that, except that I would shout any obscenity Andrew asked me to, including telling Vernon Wells to "EARN THAT 20 MILL!!!" when he was up to bat. He then struck out.

A week later, Darcy and I attended the annual Alzheimer's Tournament at The Highland in London. This was our fourth year playing, and easily the most hilarious yet. I won't go into too much detail, because I have a tonne of pics and video from that day, which I will post hopefully as soon as my sister sends them. You're in for some hilarity.

That same night a whole whack of us went out to Raygun and party-hardy'd, until we eventually ended up at Caitlin's place, free-styling and putting back drinks until the sun came up. Those freestyle tapes exist somewhere and I'll see what I can do to retrieve them.


Nowadays I've just been working, doing laundry, rehearsing, recording, painting, photographing, working on a website, Luminato, watching playoff basketball with K, walking, organizing, and enjoying what has been one of the best summers in years. My life seems to be one hectic, fantastic moment after another.

everyone sit down. it's sharing time.

Let me fill you in on a little story of mine.

Flat out, when I was a kid I was fascinated with penises (or the correct multiple penis term: penae), particularly my own. I found them so interesting. My sister didn't have one, but my brother and dad did. Old guys had weird ones, and so did dogs. They shrank and grew throughout the day, mostly whether or not it was bath time. I would constantly crack jokes about how I had the biggest dick in the family. I would present this theory using any lock on a door, and it went a little something like this:

I would turn it out from the door a little and say
"Miiiiike......huhuhuhu"
then a little more and say,
"Daaaaaaad.....huhuhu"
and then crank the thing full out and scream
"and meeeeeeee! hahahahahah"

My mom still thinks that's funny shit, and so do I. I was a special kid.

Yet what I am most famous for is called "The Dance of the Dinkies"

The Dance of the Dinkies was more like my "Fuck whatever I'm doing right now, it's time to make grandma laugh" ritual. All it really consisted of was me stripping butt-naked, run into a room, scream "DANCE OF THE DINKIES!!!", and proceed to swing my dick around and have a full-body dance freak-out. Everyone thought it was hilarious, but I'd usually get chased around by my mom with a wooden spoon because it wasn't the most polite thing to do when we had company over.

It mostly looked like this, except totally naked and with much more enthusiasm, if you can imagine.

I think that's enough sharing for today. Dismissed.

fools gold

Did you guys hear about this? 

have a great day.

please! no more meat! (in every sense of the word)

Ahhh, the ever-glorious May 2-4 weekend. This year we had the privileged of staying, cost-free, at a beautiful lakefront summer home in New Baltimore, Michigan (about 20 minutes outside of Detroit).
BK, Mills, and Billy are staying there for the summer, so we thought we'd pay them a visit.

The view from the back porch wasn't that bad either.

The next photo I won't go into too much detail about. For those of you who know this means, let's all share a laugh together.

The best (and worst) thing about America is how they've seemed to bridge the gap between food and convenience. Here, I can be seen drinking a pre-bottled A&W Rootbeer Float. Now, the most unusual thing about it wasn't the taste or the texture, but the ingredients. I wasn't shocked when I noticed that last diddy. Laughing gas anyone?

Tickle a ginger!!
What May 2-4 would be complete without tickling Jordan to the ground (which takes anywhere between 1 and 6 seconds, depending on how much he resists). Jordan, I wish I had your giggle as my ringtone, because it warms my heart.

We watched Family Matters (which is surprisingly still a good show), and it turned out that it was Steve's birthday as well. I cradled his head and wished I was there with him and Carl.

Funny face time. Aparently Josh's monkey face had never been captured on film until now. I consider that a damn shame, because it's fucking hilarious.

One of my personal favorites: The Rubber Mask. It scares pretty girls.

David, I don't know what to call this, but that doesn't mean it's not funny. It reminds me of somebody, mostly Egon from Ghostbusters.

"Oh man, BK is totally drinking from my dick. That's hilarious!"

I'm sure that's what I was thinking at the time of this birthday countdown photo.

Detroit, what.

We met blair right about here, because he's a Backstreet Boy.

I remember agreeing to see a Detroit Tigers game the night before, but I don't know how they managed to pull me out of bed the next morning. I was in hangover central. Although, the best cure for one of this is movement, Tylenol, sunlight, and more booze.
The daquiri stand looked damn tempting when sitting in 26 degree sun in the outfield.

Josh, enjoying that shit, even without the huge collectable fist drink holder.

The employees at the daquiri stand honestly loved their jobs. They made us honkies feel right at home.

Time for another.

Well played, honkies.

That motherfucker (and I can say that because he was hitting on Cougars the whole game) was one part hilarious drunk hick, one part annoying Yank. He didn't say much more than reciting rap lyrics and screaming "I'm on a boat!" during lulls in between plays. At least he gave us some good daquiri insight.

The new Tigers Stadium is beautiful. Everything I think a baseball stadium should be.

8 Mile!

Yeah, we got ourselves some White Castle. It had been about a decade since I'd last eaten here, and thank God for that. I forgot how absolutely horrible this food is. We ended up calling it Grey Castle because of the grey-matter-meat. Fucking terrible excuses for burgers. Under no circumstance should a food joint have a 40-burger combo on its menu. We all had to shit immediately afterwards. I think this venture capped off the meat consumption limit for the trip.

Mills and BK. More like East and DP.

Jordan loving the Five O'Clock Rum. That shit was so damn gross. But hey, it was only $16 for that entire bottle. Where do you draw the line between value and quality? Actually, how about value and dignity.

We opened our own bar after visiting Wal-Mart.

The spinning-head Exorcist owl.

BK and I held dinner down the second night. I made a red wine and worcestershire sauce marinade for the steaks and stuffed the potatoes with garlic, onion, and fresh rosemary. PS - damn you guys for having such beautiful rosemary and basil plants.

Of course, I was getting my feet dirty running through farmers fields to capture some sweet cloudage. Billy warned me that people here have guns and are not afraid to use them. Let's just say I made it quick.

Life's tough.

What the hell was with this thing in Billy's room. The creepiest thing isn't the imitation chest hair, but that fact that it came with the house when they moved in.

I should have known that these two would be gambling the entire trip. I'm sure only twenty minutes after knowing eachother bets were made.

And what May 2-4 weekend would be complete without a passed-out-early-Blair!?

I really don't know what to say about this photo below. Words that come to mind include: confusion, liquor, party, gay, sexy, drunk dad, wow, sweet, what?, nice!, and general laughter. I honestly can't even glance at this photo without busting a gut laughing. I think it's his stance and the fact that nobody else can be seen in the photo, which means it got late and Mrs. Clause decided to put on her sexy low-cut V neck that Santa loves so much. Except Mrs. Clause is played by a drunk Josh sporting three days of beard growth.

Meme, you're wonderful. Thanks for coming and leveling the sausage ratio a bit.

Middle of the night long-exposures during a lightning storm.

Crew.

All in all, this was another weekend for the books. Although it was filled with too much meat (foodly speaking), everyone had an amazing time, and I even got to play Hide and Seek. I speak on the behalf of every guest when I say it was great seeing you guys and thanks for showing us just how fucking crazy America is. Because, three words:

Smokes N' Stuff