Jeff McEnery's Blog

Well that’s it man. After three and a half years of living in the big city, I’ve finally had it. I’m done. Finished. Gone.

Up until April 2006, I never really liked living in the city, but loved living with my roommates. For a year, while I was attending the Humber Comedy Program I lived with my classmates Steve Oke, Brian Cook, Will Dewan, Andy Auld, Alain Roschefort, Steph Tolev, Amica Hilton, Bob Hills and Al’s cousin Bob in a three story apartment building that we turned into a giant frat house. I have a lot of great memories of my time in that apartment but you couldn’t pay me to live there again. From there I moved into a basement apartment with another Humber buddy, Dave Melenchuk. Dave’r and I got along great as were both pretty laid back guys and huge pro wrestling nerds. I was living a beautiful existence making jokes about “The Honky Tonk Man” at 3am on a Wednesday morning when Dave’r decided to move back to his hometown of Timmins last April to attend business school and date an amateur bowling chick. I’m sorry to say that the two have since 7-10 split up! That’s the worst/best joke ever.

Since that time I lived with “Sobby” Bobby Mair, a very talented, funny and depressing young comedian, Bob Hills and then back with the Sobster and his new roommates Adam Christie and Freddie Rivas. Living with the three was good, but our apartment building was incredibly sketchy. Every night for about two months I used to be serenaded to sleep by the sound of an infant crying. About a month ago, the crying stopped, which concerns me even more. Living with two other comics has it’s downfalls as well. Since a lot of comics don’t have any social lives, they end up spending a lot of their time bitching and moaning and gossiping about one another. Two weeks ago we had a contest to see who could go the longest without talking about comedy. Adam won in less than an hour.

My buddy and budding stand-up comedian Graham Chittenden put it best “My friends back home say ‘How can you live in Toronto? There’s so many people there, everybody must be in your face all the time.’ And in fact, it’s the opposite. If you ever want to be surrounded by four million people and feel like an irrelevant piece of shit, Toronto’s the place to be.”
For the past week I have been staying at my Uncle Paul and Aunt Dawn’s along with their children Stacey and Shannon, Stacey’s husband Jerome and their two kids Jerome and Breanna, my 82 year old Great Grandma and her son Les. I’ve enjoyed my stay but they’re all certifiably nuts and this is coming form a guy who lived with four other comics , a dancer, a mime and his cousin in college. There’s never a dull moment around here and I love them all, but it’s time go home.
So I’m moving back to the A-dot to live with my cousin Dave and my Grandma McEnery on the farm for a couple of months. I’m going to move back sooner than later but right now I’m just tired of living in Toronto.

I’m tired of living in a city where the only time someone addresses me as “Sir” is when it’s followed by the question “Can you spare some change?”
I’m tired of living in a city where the only people smiling on the subway are always three incessantly laughing Asian females.
I’m tired of in a city where scensters shop at Value Village because they’ve been told it’s hip and not because they get their mom works there.
So I’m moving back to a town where the people who wear Hank Williams T-shirts actually own a Hank Williams CD.
Back to a town where the people who loiter in coffee shops on working on curing a hangover not a “soon to be published” book of free verse poetry.
I wander these streets aimlessly, gainlessy Homeless man smiles. $5 latteI work part-time at Sonic Boom!
But my profession is observing.
My mom is paying half my rent this month.
Fin.

Back to a town where I’ll hear “Hey if you stuck around hear you’d get some new jokes for sure HAHAHAHAHA!” everyday.
Which is much better than, “Well you know the Rivoli is a pretty good open-mic but the crowd is sometimes too forgiving….Blah Blah Blah….and the thing about Mike Wilmot…Blah…Blah…Blah….I might try and get up at Corktown Comedy tonight…are we out of fucking milk?….Now where was I…oh yeah fuck Carlos Mencia!”
Back to a town where there is only three places to drink. At Manny’s Road House with your uncle. In the living room with your father or in Guelph with your friends.

Back to a town where all you need to be a qualified hair dresser is a gullible kid, a pair of safety scissors and a lot of a free time on your hands.

Back to a town where the cops say stuff like “You have the right to remain silent fag.”

Jeff McEnery