It's cheaper than botox and far less effective. Cooking oil is the newest cosmetic fad to tickle Montreal's fancy, and the practice has doctors up in arms. "Injecting cooking oil into your skin isn't good for your body and it isn't good for your health," says Dr. Lindsay Smith, a dermatologist at the West Island Epidermis Institute. "If people want fuller lips, or they want to get rid of wrinkles or crows feet, they should see a professional."

Many Montrealers disagree. "Why spend hundreds of dollars on botox at a plastic surgeon when I can do it at home with a syringe and a jug of corn oil?" asks Leonora Lanzig, a 29 year old bartender. "I want to look my best, but i'm not rich, and I can't afford botox. I can, however, afford corn oil. I've been injecting it for months now, and my skin has never looked so healthy."

Dr. Smith is worried that attitudes like Lanzig's are becoming more common. "Ms. Lanzig might not know it, but she's demolishing the health of her skin. Cooking oil isn't a botox substitute, and it was never meant to find a home inside your face," says Dr. Smith. "Every day, more and more people are trying DIY cosmetic surgery. It's a worrying trend. Last week, an 18 year old girl came to my office after she injected two syringes full of extra virgin olive oil into her forehead, causing her skin to sag over her brow. She couldn't see anymore, because the skin of her forehead drooped over her eyes. These are the kind of accidents that could be prevented if only people left cosmetic surgery to the professionals."

Cooking oil injections have become so popular among young Montrealers that these days, it's hard to visit a club or a bar without spotting a table full of twenty somethings sticking needles into their faces. "In some ways, injecting cooking oil into your face isn't just a cosmetic act anymore," says urban anthropologist Didier Groulx. "It's become a form of bonding among young urban professionals. Instead of drinking beer or doing drugs together, they inject each other with cooking oil. It's a way for young people to identify with one another. It might not be healthy, but neither is smoking crack cocaine. When compared to some of the other stupid things young people are doing, injecting cooking oil into their faces seems like a fairly benign practice."

Dario Devalis, the proprietor of Montreal's BadSwing night club, is facing several charges of invasions of privacy after police received a tip that he had installed a two-way mirror in the women's bathroom. "On the other side of the mirror was a VIP room that the owner would rent out to men," says Sgt. Tremblay of the SPVM. "The owner charged men $500 for access to the room, which allowed them spy on women as they went about their business in the washroom. This sort of egregiously offensive behaviour should not be tolerated in a civilized society."

A class action lawsuit against the owner is being organized by several female patrons, many of whom feel deeply betrayed by the subterfuge. "Women go to clubs to have fun," says Beatrice Basil, who is organizing the lawsuit, "they don't go to get leered at by drunken perverts spying on them from behind a two way mirror."

Urban anthropologist Didier Groulx says this latest misogynistic prank is just one in a series that have plagued Montreal's night life community. "Montreal's night life scene is dominated by men. It's a boy's club, and it is rife with misogyny. I'm not at all surprised that a club owner installed a two-way mirror in a woman's bathroom. I am, however, surprised that he's the only one who has been caught doing it. Given the general attitude most club owners and promoters have towards women, I assure you, there are several clubs in Montreal who are guilty of the same crime."

Didier points to the owner of CocoTonix, who was arrested last year after a female patron discovered a hidden camera in a bathroom stall. "Montreal promoters and club owners are pigs. Many of them have ties to organized crime, hardly a bastion of progressive thought. The entertainment industry is dominated by chauvinism, and women would do well to only support clubs owned and operated by other women -- at least until the men who run Montreal's night life start taking sexism seriously."

A Montreal raver was rushed to the emergency room on Saturday after his lungs collapsed shortly after trying to swallow a spoon full of cinnamon. "The cinnamon challenge is a dangerous internet meme," says Dr. Livia Ladouceur, "that encourages teenagers to swallow a spoon full of ground cinnamon in under 60 seconds without drinking anything. Participants often post videos of the feat on to the internet, which encourages other idiots to imitate them. This is exactly what happened to our young, and incredibly dumb patient over the weekend."

The raver, who was attending an outdoor party in the Plateau area, was goaded into taking the cinnamon challenge by James Parker, the promoter of the event. "I thought it'd make the party stand out if I made everyone take the cinnamon challenge," says Mr. Parker. "So I bought several kilos of ground cinnamon, and anyone who took the challenge got in free. It was supposed to be just good fun, I didn't know the health risks involved in gulping down cinnamon."

The Canadian Poison Control Center receives dozens of phone calls every day from teenagers suffering the aftermath of the cinnamon challenge. "Coughing, choking, vomiting, and nausea are some of the minor side-effects of the challenge," says phone operation Lance Lu. "However, in extreme cases, it's possible to do serious damage to your lungs. Severe pneumonia isn't entirely uncommon."

Mr. Parker regrets his decision to bring so much cinnamon to his rave parties. "In the future, I think I'll just stick to the 'Make Love To DJs' challenge, which was a hit at a party I threw last year, and unlike the cinnamon challenge, it didn't send anyone to the hospital."

Shockwaves have rippled throughout Canada after the brutal rape of a seven month old boy by a group of three party promoters from Verdun. The horrifying act has thrown a spotlight on sex abuse in Montreal's party scene, which has battled countless controversies over the years, though none quite as horrifying as this one.

"Every day, infants across Montreal are sexually assaulted by ravers," says Dr. Edison, a clinical psychologist at the Hebrew Specific Medical Center. "Many of these assaults are the result of a superstitious belief held by many of Montreal's young men. These men believe that they can cure themselves of sexually transmitted diseases by raping babies. This delusion stems from something psychologists call 'sympathetic magic', the belief that one object can impart its properties on another object by mere contact. The sympathetic magic fallacy is why these young men believe that a sexually pure baby can cure an adult of sexual diseases through genital contact. If you've ever had a lucky number or owned a lucky rabbit foot, you've been victim of this same delusion. The difference is, ravers have taken sympathetic magic to a terrifying level. It's one thing to think owning a dead rabbit's foot makes you lucky, it's another to think raping a baby will make you healthy again."

The three promoters, who all have aids, told police that they read on the internet that they could cure their condition by having sex with a baby. "The internet isn't entirely to blame for this," says Dr. Edison. "Child rape is a horrifying folklore remedy in many parts of the world where the internet isn't even available. The problem isn't that the internet put these ideas into the heads of these men. The problem is that these men were stupid enough to entertain these ideas in the first place."

Dr. Edison believes that only education can prevent ravers from raping babies. "Our society needs to wage war on superstition. A society that tolerates magical thinking is a society that deserves what it gets. If we want ravers to stop raping babies, then we need to teach ravers to be self-aware and capable of critical thought. You have to be a real idiot to think that raping a baby will cure you of aids. It won't."

Arietta Tremblay is in high spirits despite having lost a chunk of her left buttock to a venomous white tail spider while partying in the Australian outback. "Canadians don't realize how good they have it," says Arietta. "Here in Quebec, you can throw a party in the forest, and the most you have to worry about is getting your head stuck in a doritos bag. In Australia, if you're not careful, you can loose your ass. Literally. It happened to me."

The young Quebecoise was touring Australia with friends when they decided to attend an outdoor rave party in the middle of a field. "Arietta was dancing to this amazing Skrillex track when she suddenly felt this tingling sensation next to her crotch," says Elise Vezina, one of Arietta's travel companions. "At first, she thought the tingling was just her reaction to Skrillex, who is a musical god, but no. It wasn't. It was just spider venom coursing through her body."

It didn't take long for Arietta to realize something very bad had just happened to her. "Eventually, I felt this jabbing pain in my ass. It was like having anal sex with a dirty junglist. It was awful. I pulled down my pants and asked my friends to check it out, and they told me that my butt was swelling up. Apparently, it looked like a giant clown nose, it was so big and red."

The girls drove Arietta to the nearest hospital, which was nearly an hour away. "By the time I got to the hospital, I was in excruciating pain," says Arietta. "The doctor's said I was lucky, because white tail spider bites can be deadly. I could have died from that bite. When the doctor's got to me, necrosis had already set in, and they had to remove a portion of my left buttock. So now i've got an uneven butt. My left cheek is about an inch flatter than my right one. I don't think it's a big deal, and it's kind of funny now that i'm not in excruciating pain anymore."

Arietta says if there's one lesson she learned, it's that some places are safer to party than others. "Everyone in Quebec should be thankful that our spiders can't cause our flesh to rot away. We should count our blessings. Partying here is so much safer than it is in other parts of the world."

The so-called phantom snuggler continues to elude Montreal Police officers, who have released yet another statement warning college students to be on the look-out for suspicious men prowling around their buildings late at night. "Over the weekend, we received another report from a woman who claims to have woken up in the embrace of a complete stranger," says Sgt. Lemieux. After yelling at the man, he promptly got out of her bed and jumped out her open window, which he had apparently jimmied open to enter her apartment."

Lisa Huxley was one of the phantom snugglers first victims. "I just woke up to discover some weird hairy guy was spooning me," says Lisa. "It was terrifying. It's scary to think that someone can slip into your bed without even waking you up. I asked him 'Who the hell are you?' and he just told me, very calmly, that he was a dubstep DJ, as if that explained everything. Then he climbed out my window, and ran away. There are some seriously messed up people out there."

Deans at several of Montreal's Universities have urged their students to install locks on their windows. Henry Bellwether, dean of the University of St-Denis, says it's better to be safe than sorry. "The phantom snuggler is still out there, terrorizing our students," says Mr. Bellwether. "There's no telling when he'll strike next. That's why it's important for our students, and for all Montrealers really, to ensure the safety of their persons. We are hopeful that the SPVM will capture this errant snuggler before he terrorizes anyone else."

Bernard Beautemps is one such victim who looks forward to seeing the snuggler face justice. "Last month, I woke up to some guy pulling on my bed sheets. My first reaction was to punch him, but I missed his jaw by two inches. He looked at me and said he just wanted to snuggle before running off into my bathroom. I was in a state of shock, and kind of freaked out, so I didn't chase after him. My bathroom doesn't have windows, so I thought he was trapped in there, and I don't know if he's got a knife or a gun, or what, so I called the police and waited for them to arrive. They went to investigate, and discovered that he had escaped through the ceiling tiles. This crazy bastard snuck into my apartment through the ceiling. He's insane."

Police are confident that, with the amount of witnesses who have seen the phantom snuggler, he'll eventually be caught. "We don't have many leads at the moment," says Sgt. Lemieux, "But we are confident that we will apprehend the snuggler in the near future. In the mean time, we ask that people be vigilant."

A new cult is bringing a taste of ayahuasca to Montreal's night life, as it's members seeks recruits among clubbers and party goers. "Ayahuasca opens new ways of living to those who embrace it's manifold ways," says Danah Jinesh, an acolyte of the Golden Order of Yage. "It can solve humanity's problems if only people would stop and listen to it's wisdom."

Danah spends her Friday nights cruising through the city's bars, looking for lost souls in need of divine revelation. "People turn to dance parties, to raving, to club going, out of a sense of desolation and desperation," says Danah. "People who are at peace with themselves feel no need for such vain, earthly pleasures. It is a sign of incompletion, of a hollow existence, that pushes people into the revelry of the night. We offer the lost souls thrashing on dance floors in this city a chance of completion, of salvation. An escape from the tawdry and deleterious temptations of the flesh."

Salvation, according to the Order of Yage, comes in the form of a potent, psychoactive brew made out of the banisteriopsis caapi vine. Once ingested, enlightenment follows. "All problems can be solved with ayahuasca," claims Noah Balthier, a long time acolyte of the order. "Broke up with your girlfriend? Take ayahuasca. Lost your job? Take ayahuasca. Favorite character from Game of Thrones died? Take ayahuasca. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, can't be fixed with ayahuasca."

Noah is so certain of ayahuasca's ameliorative effect, that he routinely gives the substance out to friends and family. "Even if you're not part of the order, your life can't help but be improved by consuming a bit of caapi."

Ravers and party goers, for their part, are slowly opening up the order. "I thought they were creepy at first," says Renata Gagnon, "but it's hard to be creeped out by people who keep giving you free drugs. You can't really go out to a party anymore without someone offering you ayahuasca. It's great"

City police are less enthusiastic about the cult's operations. "Ayahuasca is a controlled substance," says Sgt. Lemieux, "and party goers should be aware that it is illegal to consume the drug. It doesn't matter if it's free, and while certain religious exemptions do exist for some drugs in Canada, there is no such exemption for ayahuasca."

Danah and Noah aren't worried about getting arrested. "If the cops came for us," says Noah, "we'd just offer them some of our ayahuasca and everything would sort itself out. There's nothing ayahuasca can't solve. Ran over your neighbour's dog? Take ayahuasca. Took an arrow to the knee? Take ayahuasca. Got arrested for taking ayahuasca? Take more ayahuasca. It's god's elixir."

Stomachs are turning over the latest drug fad to hit Montreal's party milieux. "Teenagers today are consuming one another's vomit in order to save money on drugs," says Dr. Heidi Molson of the Hebrew Specific Health Center. "They mistakenly believe that drugs retain their chemical properties after they've already been consumed. These teenagers think that if they swallow a pill of MDMA, and then vomit an hour later, that their vomit will contain trace elements of MDMA on the quantum level that will permit them to share their drug high with friends. It's homeopathy by way of Japanese porn, a twisted form of emetophilia. It's disturbing to think that teenagers are doing this. We desperately need to overhaul our educational system, because we're raising a bunch of idiots."

The act of consuming the vomit of someone who is already high in hopes of sharing that person's intoxicated state is known as 'Double Dipping'. Sam Gouin, an aspiring trance DJ, is an avid double dipper. "I've saved so much money on drugs since I started double dipping with my friends," says Sam. "The high you get from eating vomit isn't like a normal high. It's a one of a kind experience, and even though it sounds disgusting, it's actually not that bad. You get used to the taste of bile after your first few trips. You even grow to like it."

Dr. Molson remains unimpressed with double dippers. "Whatever high these people are getting from eating each other's vomit is pure placebo," says Dr. Molson. "Decades ago, someone wrote an article in a college newspaper claiming that you could get high smoking dried banana peels, and countless people believed it. There is no such thing as a vomit high, and consuming another person's vomit is this generation's banana peel drug high. It's a hoax perpetuated on the gullible to trick them into doing something outrageously disgusting. It'd be funny if it wasn't so sad."

Sam Gouin disagrees. "It's not a hoax, eating vomit does get you high," says Sam. "Last week, I went to a party, and we all got high out of our minds. The highlight of the night was when one girl drank a jug of jenkem, and then an hour later emptied the contents of her stomach back into the same jug. I downed a cup worth of second hand jenkem, and within minutes, I was delirious. It was the most potent buzz I've ever experienced."

Daniel Tremblay died on the weekend in what police are calling an unfortunate accident. "Mr. Tremblay suffocated to death after getting his head stuck in an empty doritos bag," said Sgt. Lemieux. "Mr. Tremblay had attended an outdoor dance party in the eastern townships, and after consuming a large quantity of drugs, was seen wandering off into a nearby forest. The following morning, hikers in the area happened across his body. His death is believed to be accidental."

John Grossier, who threw the event where Mr. Tremblay met his untimely demise, blames his death on party goers who refuse to clean up after themselves. "Ravers are filthy," says John. "I used to put up with it, but after Danny's death, I don't think I can throw another party. While no one know's for sure how Danny got his head stuck in that doritos bag, I think he passed out in the forest in a pile of raver refuse, and in that pile was a doritos bag placed in just the right way for it to fall on to his head, causing him to suffocate in his sleep."

Rebecca Hunt, an environmental safety specialist based out of the Eastern Townships, who has dedicated her life to educating teenagers about safe partying practices, says John is probably right about Daniel's cause of death. "Last week's tragedy could have been avoided had the ravers simply made sure to clean up after themselves" says Rebecca. "Woodland animals are constantly getting trapped in discarded packaging and other garbage that human beings leave behind. You've got dolphin's choking on plastic and birds and other animals getting caught in beer packaging, it's terrible. Just last week, a police officer in Florida had to remove a doritos bag that had gotten wedged on the head of a deer. Certainly, humans are nominally more intelligent than wildlife, and they should be capable of extricating themselves from an errant dorito bag, but when drugs enter the equation, anything is possible. How that bag got on to Daniel's head might be a mystery, but the fact that dirty ravers left that bag out there is beyond dispute."

John, for his part, has vowed revenge on Montreal's party scene. "I won't let anyone else die because party goers don't clean up after themselves," says John. "Daniel's death won't be in vain. I'm going to start a group dedicated to pummelling ravers into treating the environment with respect."