VJ vs. PJ: Indian Beauties

The debate has raged on for years, and truly we may never know who was the better media presence; the stunningly beautiful host of MuchMusic's Electric Circus and Rapid Fax Monika Deol, or the YTV VJ slash model slash dancer slash singer of such classic hits as A-YA, PJ Aashna. I have created a mathematically perfect model to figure this out:

Years on Toronto Television
x Hotness on a scale of 1-10
- Cheese factor
+ Additional points for each notable achievement since they've moved on.
(additonal points may be taken away or added for random reasons)

Monika Deol
My God I loved this woman. Only someone with her presence could make a show like Electric Circus fun to watch. The former club DJ managed to be Sophisticated yet fun, sexy and intelligent, Monika Deol was the coolest role model ever for young Indian girls. For much of her career she did 5 different shows and was on TV 7 days a week. On her final episode of Electric Circus 35,000 came to wish her well as she shipped off to Vancouver where she has shifted through a couple of stations including Vancouver's CityTV.

PJ Aashna Patel

Much like Monika, Aashna hosted a whole slew of shows from YTV's Hit List to YTV's Breakfast Zone, which was like Regis & Kelly except targetted to teens. PJ Aashna was from the golden age of PJs with PJ Phil and PJ Exan, but alas she had bigger dreams. After releasing her album and the dreadfully bad but catchy, "A-Ya" Aashna left YTV and so they entered their dark age of sugar baby and a Hit List hosted by the Children of the Corn who played nothing but brit-pop; old brit-pop at that: Take That broke up! Accept it and move on!

So now the scores:

Monika Deol

Years on Toronto television = 9

Hotness on a scale of 1-10 (no one looks better in dark lipstick) = 9.5

Cheese factor (she made it better but it was still EC after all) -8

(score before bonuses + deductions) = 77.5

She's now an anchor for CityTV Vancouver which nabs her +15. Also, every host of EC since her has been an increasingly more hideous train wreck. From the so-so Juliette Powell to the terribly irritating occasional soka princess Nadine, to the fish out of water Amanda & Rainbow who always looked so uncomfortable, monica gets +12 just by comparison. She has said in an interview however that she has grown past pop-culture reporting and is surprised people mainly remember her for Electric Circus. For that statement which I choose to interpret as a bit snotty and a bit back-handed at her beginnings I must -10 points.

So the Final Score for Ms. Monika Deol is 94.5

PJ Aashna

Years on Toronto Television = 4

Hotness on a scale of 1-10 = 6

Cheese Factor = (have you heard "A Ya"?) -5

(score before bonuses + deductions) = 19

Aashna has kept herself busy since her YTV days. She recorded a CD singing the national anthem which is apparently heard in over 1000 schools daily--that's worth at least 3 points per hundred schools so she gets +30. She also hosts her own show on the Travel Network (who knew), a spin-off of which plays during flights on US Airways and America West Airlines reaching almost a million people a month--that's an easy +35. Though I found the lyrics for "A Ya" online and they include the verse:

"Pump your body, clickety clack, girls in the front and boys in the back"

Seriously.....clickety clack? That's a -40 deduction right there. Though I did spend a solid 20 minutes on E-Bay trying to find her album and apparently she's releasing another one in 2006, so who am I to judge, +50.

So the Final Score for Ms. Aashna Patel is 94

It was very close but Monica Deol wins by a hair. If you are reading this Monika, your prize is marrying me. I know you're over 40 now, but I'm cool with that. My feelings for you are best described in a variation of the classic Shabba Ranks hit, "Twice My Age":

I'm in love with a girl.

Nearly twice my age.

She hos-ted EC

Which was a kick in my youthful days.

And as I go my way,

I don't care what people say,

because for you Monika,

I would swing that way.

Lettuce, Tomato, Frim Fram Sauce

Homestyle Chicken Fillet--I spent the greater part of my evening shift dreaming of you. In Niagara you were so moist, so flavourful and in my drunken haze you were the greasy goodness I needed to help me fall into my regular evening coma. But then I had you again and you had changed. I knew from the first bite but I kept on, hoping I could find that connection again, but you were cold now; cold and passionless. Not only that but your "delicious creamy, tangy sauce" was not as I remembered it--it was as bitter as my feelings for you now, a lurid mix of DayQuil and hand cream with some chives to cover up your deception.

On the Wendy's website it says you will get me "excited about chicken again" but all I feel for you is emptiness. I know you got angry that i only called on you in the middle of the night when I was having a craving and needed to eat out, but we men are weak and you were so hot, and our times together were so satisfying. You remember those times don't you? Those were good times weren't they? We could have been something you and me--don't you see that Wendy's Homestyle Chicken Fillet? See that face? That was me! Hurt. betrayed. lost. hungry...not like it matters now. I just thought I'd say goodbye and tell you I want that $4.74 you owe me and my t-shirt you always wear to bed; wash it first, I don't want your stink on it.

I've moved on to the "Bacon Mushroom Melt". Supposed to be around for a "limited time" but I have a good feeling it'll all work out. I know I said that about McDonald's Pizza and KFC Chicken Fries but it's different this time...

.......IT IS!!!

SCREW YOU for judging me!

Miserable at Les Miserables

I've had tickets to Les Miserables for months and was really looking forward to going, so of course I come down with a wicked cold the night before. At first I thought it was *ahem* smoke inhalation but it quickly became clear that I was just sick. That was not about to stop me from going but I was a mess most of the night. I would wait for applause so I could sniffle and cough but unfortunately much of the musical is solos and soft ballads so there was an obscene amount of tissue crammed up my nose in silence, and the guy next to me was thoroughly unpleased sitting next to Typhoid Mary.

Since I have no class and love the idea of hookers singing, my favourite song of the night was "Lovely Ladies" in which a slew of prostitutes sing about the virtues of the world's oldest profession. I think about the hookers in "Sin City" belting this out instead and I am overcome by how absolutely awesome that would be:

Lovely ladies
Waiting in the dark
Ready for a thick one
Or a quick one in the park

There were songs of love and devotion, songs of mourning and songs of revolution and the one that stuck with me was a song about ladies getting boinked for pay. Though to redeem myself the final lines in the song are, to me, some of the best in the entire production:

Easy money
Lying on a bed
Just as well they never see
The hate that's in your head
Don't they know they're making love
To one already dead!

One thing I did notice was that Les Mis is very much in the old school tradition of singing everything. I mean, I love musicals but some dialogue between songs is sort of welcome or it seems a bit much. Whenever they were talk-singing I immediately thought of Simpsons' Musical spoofs like when Homer stars in "Rent II - Condo Fever":

Where is the Rent?
I must have the rent!
Dollars, dimes and nickels,
I need them all right now!

All in all it was a fun evening except for the tail-end which is a bit of a blur. Dan who had come with me gave my some "Drixoral" after the show. Now I've never heard of this medication and in retrospect I'm pretty sure he accidentally slipped me a roofie because I remember being really groggy and next thing I know I'm face-down in a McDonald's drive through with bright red lipstick and a tattoo reading "Daughters of the American Revolution". But if a night ended without me passing out somewhere then it wouldn't really be me would it?

Respect Your Elders

My friend Crystal (seen in the picture lovingly throttled by our friend Shaun) is a Christmas Eve baby. Now before you feel sorry for her knowing she has to split her birthday with Jesus you must know that for most of her life she celebrated her "half-birthday", which is to say on June 24th she would have the party and the gifts and all the birthday accoutrements. This would be fine if not for the fact that come December 24th she still receives birthday gifts, plus she's from a multi-denominational family so while blowing out the candles on her birthday cake, unwrapping her christmas gifts, lighting the final menorah candle and contemplating Kwanzaa, the twelfth month of the year proves to be quite lucrative for her.

Now, being the naturally jealous grinch I am (in both attitude and body hair dispersion) I mocked her half-birthday, I sneer at the fact she gets Hanukkah gifts even though she isn't Jewish, and consistently remind her that she is the youngest of our friends and therefore needs to treat us with a little more respect, nay reverence as we are so much her seniors. Instead of accepting this as fact and buying us a round of drinks as requested she has the audacity to proclaim that I am only 9 months older than her. This must of course be met with a huge list of the number of things that have been, and can be accomplished in the course of 9 months. This list must always culminate in the point that while I was a newborn baby adoring audiences of young and old alike, Crystal was merely a twinkle in her parents' eyes.

The language I normally use to describe this fact is a lot more visual but having been my friend for the greater part of 13 years she has known me too long be grossed out by my vulgarity. That is until while visiting her last weekend I came up with this gem in a drunken stupor:
"Hey Crys do you realize that while I was coming out of my mom you were coming out of your dad". This elicited the most genuinely disgusted face I've ever seen her make.

Brava Jamie....Brava!

Call Center Face

I stumbled onto this picture online and I thought it was perfect in that it is exactly the same face I make half of the time I am on the phone with the public. It covers all the important thoughts:

*Why on Earth am I still working here?
*Why are you chewing in my ear?
*You're slurring/mumbling/screaming and I can't understand you.
*How can I hate someone I've never met this much?
*Seriously..why the hell am I still working here?

I've made this face at least a dozen times today. In the following examples read the lines and then immediately scroll up and look at the face. It's like watching me in real-time.

"Good Morning, Place You Just Called how can I help you?"
"Is this the Place I Just Called?"

"Can I speak to Jennifer?"
"We have 51 Jennifers on staff, do you know which one you need?"
"Her desk is close to the door...a door."

"I need Johnny"
"Do you know which department Johnny works for?"
"Joanne"
"Oh sorry I misunderstood, is it Joanne in Finance?"
"JOINING JOINING"
"joining......Zoning? Do you need Zoning?"
"yeah yeah...Johnny"

At times I like my job, I honestly do, as most people are generally good, but I've been doing public service for 10 years and I'm afraid if I do it any longer my face may freeze just like his...except a little chunkier...with glasses...and a mouthful of Corn Twists. God I love corn twists.

I Would Save the Ozone Layer

Miss Washington:
Chandra Smith from Spokane is active in the fight against ugliness. She is an advocate for puppies and is currently pursuing a degree in Communications.

Miss Iowa:
22 year old Becky-Ann Beckerson from Belle Plains Iowa is a mother of 6. Recently featured on the cover of Country Bride, Becky is completing her degree in Communications via correspondence.

Miss New Jersey
A recent graduate of Communications from the "Merle Eubanks" School of Higher Learning, Crysteenuh is a stay-at-home non-mom who enjoys walks on the beach and Oreo McFlurries.

What do these 3 women and myself have in common aside from a warped self-image and a collection of tiaras? That's right, the Miss America degree in Communications. Never have I been as ashamed in what I studied as when I sit through a pageant's opening and realize somewhere between 41 to 47 states have delegated a communications major to represent them. Lesson to be learned here: Communications is a useless degree and in the eyes of prospective bosses I have the employability of a vapid beauty queen without the jubblies to back it up.

GREAT!

Comments? Criticisms? Credit Card Numbers?

A few people have pointed out that they couldn't comment on the website without being Blogspot members themselves. I am happy to say that thanks to my technological prowess and infinite problem-solving capabilities I have discovered how to change all that (I found the box that said members only and unchecked it). So please feel free to send me a reply, a comment, a generous cash donation or a nude picture of yourself on an exercise bike. Anything to feel loved.

Sexily Yours,
Jamie

Sewing Supplies & Imagination

Now I wasn't poor or anything when I was a kid but we were certainly never well off and the main reason we had any money was because collectively my parents worked like 37 jobs. Frivolous spending was not an option. I wore my sister's hand-me-downs, my mom used the same piece of foil from 1984 through to 1991, and we never spent money on shit my parents considered wasteful. They'd splurge for Christmas and get you one of those awesome computer toys that taught you math or spelling but if you dare ask for an action figure which was like one-twentieth of the price, all you got was a dirty look.

And so I often found myself making my own toys. I was thinking about it earlier today and came to realize I came up with some pretty awesome (read lame) creations and I will share them with you, in case one day you decide to breed and money is kinda tight:

Slipper Pets:
A spool of thread and one of your parent's chinellas (because the word is the same in EVERY language) could be combined to make a pretty awesome pet. Simply tie the thread to the slipper and walk around your house like you have the most awesome puppy on the block. And unlike real dogs they don't go dying on you when you lower them by the leash from the top floor to the basement. Lousy Humane Society, tell me what to do...

Calendar Puzzles:
Real puzzles were pricey and inevitably you lost a piece or two and then it was worthless--enter the calendar puzzle. When a new year began and my parents were throwing out the old calendars I would cut out all of the pictures of country homes and serene lakes and turn them into mini-puzzles; which is to say I ripped them into pieces, threw them in a bag, then shook it up, spilled it on the floor and let the good times roll.

Sewing Stand-Ins:
Since action figures were out of the question I would use yarn and thread of the appropriate color and pretend it was just as good. Purple string for Donatello, blue yarn for Leonardo, a tomato pin cushion for Raphael and an orange smartie for Michelangelo. (there weren't always the right colours on hand). My sewing kit/snack food super heroes were awesome and they always kicked Shredder's ass regardless of the fact he was a short bread cookie tin lid and not a $12 dollar doll with "real slashing action".

Every time we went to a flea market I practically shit myself begging for my parents to buy me that magnetic fishing game and every time they refused. At the time I wished them dead and contemplated how I could bring this about but in retrospect the game really is kinda stupid. And out of guilt for not getting me or my sister what we wanted, or for having to go to work, or for sitting still through a haircut my parents would always give us a treat--thereby starting my lifelong love affair with junk food. And as I tore open my Mirage bar and watched the same re-run of Happy Days for the 7th time, I was happy...mainly because there was chocolate.

Poverty Posing

How many times are you watching a talk show and some celebrity is being interviewed and they're telling you a "real-life" story about baby spit-up or parking tickets or doing laundry and you think to yourself, "wow they have problems just like you and me". Don't be fooled. They don't. They can't possibly. Pretending to be an everyman/woman is the best way to touch your fan base. Oh My God, Catherine Zeta-Jones eats corn chips and hates tele-marketers too, we're like kindred spirits. From the 3 examples listed above, here is what would actually happen if a celebrity was forced to deal with it versus a real serf like the rest of us:

Baby Spit-Up
"Oh No, Sweety now was not a good time to be sick with mommy". She proceeds to rifle through her purse for anything to help clean the stain settling on a wetnap and a carefully placed scarf that somewhat, but not totally covers it up.
vs.
"What the F*!k! Have this baby exchanged!" The baby is whisked off to the nearest black-market distributor where it is switched for a less puke-prone child or perhaps a Lhasa Apso; then Saks Fifth Avenue is closed for a day so a new top can be selected in peace.

Parking Tickets
"Oh please Officer I just got out for a second to throw out this wetnap, see my baby was..."
"A likely story, this is a fire exit mam, what if a fire emergency had occured in those 20 seconds; did you ever consider that!?"
The woman apologizes profusely and is given an $85.00 ticket.
vs.
"Oh Hello Officer" Makes a headshot ready pose looking back over her shoulder.
"Oh My God! I am so sorry to have wasted your time, is there anything I can do for you. New Baby? Oh sure. The officer returns in 7 minutes with a newborn in hand. Questions aren't asked--there is simply no need.

Doing Laundry
"$18.00 to get the stain out! Are you kidding me". She reluctantly pays knowing this this is the only nice jacket she owns and wants to wear it to her job interview tomorrow.
vs.
"This new top is so 11:15." Stylist toady appears out of nowhere with rack of tops that are far more 11:45. All freshened up she calls, "Yolanta take baby away until Thursday's photo shoot". With her weekly "mom time" out of the way she can switch cars from her "Mommy Escalade" to her "Movie Star Escalade".

Other kinds of "relating to the people" that get on my nerves:

Ethnic: When a celebrity who makes more money for one appearance than you do in a full-year tries to pull the whole "I love soul food, fried chicken and grits" routine it seems so forced. They are as Amercian as apple pie when they're being interviewed by a white guy but put them in front of the right audience and suddenly it's all about Mother Africa.

Diet: I know they do it to make us feel like they're just like us, but when a 95 pound model goes on about how she can eat like a whole large pizza and chase it with an Entenmann's cake, I just want to punch her in the throat.

The best is when it backfires and they are so out of touch with reality they think their everyday lives are just like ours:
"I woke up and my maid had sent my Oscar dress to my house in the Hamptons instead of my loft in Tuscany, and I had to get Jeff to halt postal service for the day so I could get it back. Don't you hate when that happens!?"

Look Celebrities, we know you're not like us, you're better--now get back on the pedestals we made for you and do something scandalous.

Urethra! I Got It

My friend Darek here has had some shitty luck with one of his kidneys and as a result they needed to investigate. The only way to do this was to stick a rod in his urethra and do some digging. Now I know what you're thinking, "He must have been drugged up real good" and he was, but the drugs were also administered through his urethra...in needle form. Darek has now officially given us a way of shutting down anyone who is whining about anything (including myself):

"Man I have so many exams to study for, like 3 essays to complete and a lab report due tomorrow"
"That sounds brutal, but you know what sounds more brutal? Having a metal rod stuck up your pee hole"

"This headache is killing me"
"Ouch, is it anything like having your wang shanked?"

"I really cut up my knee when I fell back there, that's a lot of blood"
"Like I always say, better on the knee than in your pee"

The worst part is that they still need to remove something they placed in there...and it has to come out the same way; any dude who is reading this feels your pain Darek. If you would like to help Darek through this trying time please send some money to Jamie's I-POD fund:

International
Penile-Pity
Organization
for
Darek

Cheques can be made out to me. Cash and Future Shop/Apple Store certificates are also acceptable. Together we can make a difference in one person's life... who is sick of his crappy CD player that won't stop skipping that he just bought like 3 months ago...stupid Panasonic.

Intelligence for My Life?

I am ashamed to admit that on more than one occasion I have found myself listening to John Tesh at night. (his talk radio, not his music; I said ashamed not disgusted with myself) The main premise is adult contemporary music sandwiched between little nuggets of advice John has mainly pilfered from magazines and internet lists. The show more-or-less works the same way every time:

Enya - Sail Away
Forbes Magazine's Top 5 Foods to Eat to Help You Succeed in Business
Cyndi Lauper - Time After Time
Good Housekeeping's 7 Yummiest Corn Recipes
Kool & The Gang - Celebration
Today'sParent.com's 4 Ways to Discipline your Rowdy Teen (including not letting them dis you for shizzle)

If John ever calls in sick I am totally willing to fill in:
Top 5 Reasons you're fat:
*you eat too damn much
*you never get off your ass
*your love of Taco Bell exceeds the love you have for any living person
*Ice Cream is awesome
*You're just big-boned, pass the pecan pie!
Now listen to some Amy Grant while I eat these "Breakfast Bacon Scallops".

My future in radio looks brighter everyday :)

Gets You in the Sub-Cockals

Now I've been known to make fun of Coldplay in the past: "Strum Strum Strum, FEELINGS", but the new single Fix You breaks my heart in a solid 12 places.

When the tears come streaming down your face
When you lose something you can't replace
When you love someone but it goes to waste
could it be worse?

How the hell do you listen to something like that and not have to pull over to cry into your steering wheel? Listening to Chris Martin in this song is like sitting through a eulogy...for a puppy....that belonged to your best friend...and she's like convulsing with sobs in the seat next to you and you're thinking, "Keep strong man, Keep it together" and then the single tear no-movement man-cry begins.

Recipe to Best Appreciate this Song:
Bottle of Wine (something dark and heavy is best)
Bottle of Advil (dristan will do in a pinch)
Stir & Enjoy
*serves 1
**best enjoyed when it's raining, valentines day, or in the fetal position, but definitely alone

Janet Hubert-Whitten

Remember Aunt Viv from Fresh Prince of Belair? The original one seen to the right, not the one who took over after season 3 who kinda sucked. I was wondering what the hell she had done since her stint on the show like 12 years ago (because I am concerned for some reason). As I had suspected she had a string of roles as "Neighbour" or "Nurse #3" and the occasional appearance in a sitcom that no one remembers. I wonder if she looks back and kicks herself for fucking it all up. Rumor has it she hated Will Smith and they fought on-set a lot. NBC finally grew tired of it and canned her substantially more talented than her replacement ass. She could still be living large on Fresh Prince money a la Alfonso Ribeiro, but alas greed and on-set bickering are as inevitable as child sitcom stars getting arrested after years of coke-binges and public nudity.

Though the other day my friend Sean and I were watching a re-run and it's the one where Aunt Viv tries to break back into dancing. After she is shamed by the younger bitches she comes back for the audition kicking ass and taking names. The greatest part was that we both remembered the entire dance and its ingenious steps: POP POP! Now that's staying power.