Oh Me Oh My

Let There Be Purpose

2008-10-08T17:09:00.003-04:00

I am always deeply envious of creators. I am forever in awe of people who using raw material and the sheer power of their minds, can make something that did not exist before. Chefs, fashion designers (who actually make their own clothes), construction workers, mechanical engineers, artists, etc... I think being back in school has made me realize that the old rule from my undergrad of "if you can't dazzle them with brilliance, baffle them with bullshit" still applies in my Masters. I think most people I know who pursued a more academic route will agree. Though I can't say I haven't learned anything in my years of schooling, I can't say i might not have learned all that stuff on my own either. I know the more practical skills can also be self-taught, but learning from a master of their craft definitely reflects on the student.

One cold and rainy day during a class break, I was hanging out in a stairwell munching on a coffee crisp and looking through to a neighbouring building. Inside were students hard at work assembing things. There were slats of lumber and metal, welding machines and a number of things I couldn't name, and as I sat there I wondered what it must be like to make something out of nothing. I think it's an amazing skill to understand how things can be brought together to make something whole. You can't bullshit making something. If your dress is falling apart at the seems, your bookshelf has rusty nails protruding and the microscope your looking through is magnifying pocket lint instead of a virus, people will know.

In academia I often compare it to a giant game of "The Emperor's New Clothes". Everyone is spouting the closest thing to valid that they can come up with and droves of other people nod and wait for their turn to speak, hoping no one will notice their naked. The good news, no one ever will, because everyone is too busy worrying that everyone else will notice THEY are naked. So in the end you have a lot of naked smart people eating spoonfuls of bullshit, contented they got away with it one more time.

That's not to say there is no place for academics and inteligent discourse, I'm just saying there must be a certain satisfaction in making something tangible; not an essay that gets top marks and then is relgated to the back of some drawer, but something people witness. Something people taste or touch or marvel at, something you did in a certain way that makes it different than everyone else. Sometimes I look at people who can do that and I think it's pretty damn awesome.

Contradictions

2008-09-08T22:47:00.003-04:00

I find that life is full of contradictions. Whether it's the religious texts that tell is to seek an "eye for an eye" but then condemn revenge, or people who wish more "real women" were shown in advertising, who then grimace with revulsion at a celebrity with a bit of flab on the beach. It's like we're constantly struggling to be someone and be the exact oppposite all at once.

Reach for the stars but keep your feet on the ground.
It's funny that we encourage people to chase their dreams, but are all at once wary of people who actually do so. You want to be a singer? That's all well and good, but do you have a backup in case that doesn't pan out? Fashion design sounds fascinating, but maybe take a few courses in air conditioning repair in case Heidi Klum don't come a knockin'.

I love travelling but I hate being a tourist.
I have never understood this weird dynamic. It is respectful, even covetted, to be someone who travels, yet nothing sounds more garish than being a tourist. Are these things not one in the same? It's like if you go to New York and eat in some obscure deli in the middle of nowhere it's okay, but if you happen to see the Statue of Liberty, and icon of Americana, you should be shot in the face.

Wear your heart on your sleeve, but keep it protected.
Experts always say you have to be open to love. You have to share who you are. You have to give of yourself completely, yadda yadda yadda, but then a whole other panel of experts will tell you to keep on guard, to watch for signals, to make sure the pre-nup is signed.

So which is it? Is it a case of wanting it every way? Are we constantly wanting to have the cake we're eating, or just confused about what we're supposed to want? Thoughts?

To The Ladies

2008-08-26T14:42:00.004-04:00

Purses. The obsession many of my female friends have with these blows my mind. I'd understand if women properly utilized these accessories for what they were designed for but almost none of them do. For many girls I know they are essentially leather stitched portable garbage bags.

I am always super-impressed by the girl whose purse is properly equipped: She whips out the tide-to-go when she notices a stain on your shirt. She carries a tote umbrella on cloudy days, and is the first person to offer gum after a meal. Sometimes it's almost uncanny how she's prepared for the most random thing. "Yuck" someone will exclaim, "my steak is so bland". She quietly reaches into her purse and pulls out a small bottle of HP sauce. I never question that girl's reasoning for carrying such an item, I simply look at her in awe.

This girl is a rare breed though. The majority of women both in my life and the ones I see at work have purses that resemble a waste paper basket. Ask for photo I.D. and she'll rummage through her glad bag of a purse and fish out a receipt for a can of coke she purchased in 2002, discount cards to stores that no longer exist: "Ooooh Eaton's loyalty card!", and maybe some movie stubs; then she'll look at you and state, "must be in my other purse".

How do you not take your wallet from one purse to another when you switch? Heaven forbid you should be without mascara or a magazine from 6 months ago. Who needs proof of your identity when you need to make space for a heel that broke off a pair of shoes you threw out in March. It's especially fun when you go dumpster diving in your purse and you have to sheepishly remove everything--displaying your tampons and birth control for the people in line behind you.

Three things should always be in your purse: your wallet with I.D., a pen, and gum/breathmints. Collectively these three things can fit in the tiniest of purses, not to mention the current trend in designers sacks. When you're debating what to fit in your purse next time, pack your license, a ballpoint, and some dentyne, and leave the kitchen sink at home. :)

Pity Party - Table for 1

2008-08-06T00:30:00.005-04:00

I saw this picture when I googled "getting screwed over" and I thought it was fitting. Not only because the guy looks eerily like me: thinning hair, plaid shirt, glasses--the resemblance is uncanny really; but because it's sort of how i feel right now. It's a strange mix of quiet rage, deep-seeded resentment and subtle chest pain. It's the feeling you get when you've been screwed-over.

The first example I can remember clearly was in Grade 7. Someone had written a nasty letter to one of the students in our class full of insults and general douchiness. When this was discovered it was brought to the teacher's attention. She read the letter and come to the conclusion that I had written it. Even though I had no reason to rag on this kid, it wasn't in my writing and I was never seen with the letter, she surmised it was me because the letter included the acronym "AKA" and she had heard me say that before, or assumed I knew what it meant. Evidence didn't matter. She had decided it was me and arbitrarily treated me like shit for weeks afterwards. The real culprit was never found and I bitterly remember her to this day.

A few months back I received a letter from the Canadian government saying I owed them more taxes because my condo builder had refiled and apparently added a bunch of stuff that they could write off but would cost me a couple hundred dollars. Subsequent calls to both my builder and Revenue Canada failed to properly explain why this was a) doable and b) fair. It didn't matter though as it's the government, and so I paid, and I really got ticked.

As most people know Telus has decided it will start charging for incoming text messages. I hate texting and very rarely do it, but receive enough from friends and spammers that this might prove costly. They say they need the money so they can expand their network to support the massive use of text messaging, and so they've decided to punish the people who use it least!? This makes me seethe.

This past weekend I stayed at 1 King West Hotel in Toronto for my friends' wedding where they charge a sizable chunk of change for forced valet parking. The following day as we were driving home I hear a scraping sound. By the time we reach the highway it is overwheming and we take the nearest exit. Once we inspect the car we see that the front bumper has been hit with something and looks pretty damaged, and the fender liner is broken and dragging on the street. Livid we drive back to the hotel and are met with lies and excuses. First I'm told that the car came in this way, which as I explained to the valet manager was horse shit since I'm pretty sure the scraping sound would have given that away.

Then I'm told there is no feasible way it could happen since if it had hit a pillar in the lot it would have orange paint on it. As she gives a friend and I a tour of the parking garage and we point out the dozens of possible spots and scenarios where the car could have been hit, she goes all CSI explaining why the physics of our examples couldn't possibly work or she simply talked over us.

As I was realizing she was going to do anything she could to squirm out of taking responsibility for her staff she informed me that it was corporate policy that if the car leaves the lot, they can no longer be held liable. In that moment I thought of my naivite, assuming 40 dollar valet parking wouldn't result in a hit and run with my car. I thought of the vehicle I bought a month ago parked on the street with a dented bumper and broken liner. I thought of this smug, emotionless woman defending a staff member who knew he had done something wrong, but would never come forward and I was suddenly filled with rage. It was overwhelming. I just wanted to break something in revenge. I looked down at my hands and they were shaking. I actually had to breathe in and out for a while to calm down.

I've since learned that the repairs will be appx. $800, and I'll probably end up having to pay for them. I skipped on a vacation because I had no money this year, and what I'd been saving for gas money for school will probably have to get dipped into to fix the car. I spent the day after the valet incident getting trashed so I wouldn't feel feelings anymore (as Mel would so eloquently put it), but it gets tiring you know? It seems we're a world where the squeaky wheel always gets the grease, the reward for hard work is more work, and everyone is essentially in a constant state of self-preservation that alienates them from everyone else.

I guess I'm just tired of feeling like the little guy who gets kicked around, but I feel like society's answer to that is to strive to become the big guy, but for what? So you can be the one doing the kicking...Is that really all there is?

This was really long. I just needed to write it out. Thanks for reading.

2007-07-10T10:09:00.000-04:00

Just when you thought the Catholic church couldn't get any more archaic, the Pope opens his mouth and manages to alienate non-Catholics yet again, re-asserting that Catholicism is the only true church. Pope Benedict is anti-modernization, that is no surprise, but to claim that a previous Vatican council that was trying to create harmony with other Christians was a misinterpretation is just asinine. Seriously though, where does he get off? Most Christian non-Catholics that I know think Catholics are at best a bit too strict, and at worst a bunch of intolerant religious zealots, and having Pope Benedict tell them that they are merely ecclesial communities and therefore did not have the "means of salvation'' certainly doesn't help anyone.

It's no secret that I am anti-religion in general, though I am never critical of people and their personal faith. The thing is, faith isn't personal anymore. People paste it on their bumpers, hand out flyers at public events, and use their faith to explain away all sorts of human rights violations. For the record, Jesus is not your homeboy, claiming as much is a sin in and of itself. It's so strange to me that while the church steps farther and farther back into the dark ages, the modern spin on Christianity grows more and more prevalent. For every example of youth groups for Jesus or Hip-Hop gospel albums there is news that public schools refuse to stop daily prayers or a large percentage of the governing body of the most powerful country in the world are actual creationists....seriously....seriously! Holocaust deniers are idiots, the flat-earth society is a collection of crazy people, but believing the earth was created in 6 days is cool beans. I don't get it!

When It's Disneyland

2007-01-25T09:03:00.000-05:00

My good friend Sean once said, "Fuck flowers, if you love me do my taxes". This has always been my general approach to romance and really life in general: practicality over pomp. I'd rather have someone in my life who drives me to work when my car breaks down, who brings dinner over when they know I worked all day, or who might help me clean my apartment when it gets nasty. To me, that's love: doing something that is in no way advantageous to you, because it will make someone you care for happy.

This is not to say that romantic gestures are unwelcome. If there is one thing that my recent crusade of talking to half the people I know in a long term relationship has wrought, is that everyone, regardless of how long they have been together likes to be reminded that they are still loved. This is where we all differ though. Where I would swoon for someone who washed my dishes or drove out to my place (even if it was out of the way) because they knew I had a shitty day, others crave the public displays--the fireworks, the flowers, the carefully choreographed proposal.

The reason I am even thinking of this is that I am currently preparing a letter for someone in British Columbia. His wife is celebrating her birthday and his goal is to receive over 7,000 greetings from around the world, including one from a municipality she has never lived in, on the other side of the country. If he succeeds he will actually be in the Guiness Book of World Records. Though I commend him for the effort I can't help but think of the final product: a massive collection of letters, filled with congratulations from complete strangers--many of which used a template and merely changed the name and address.

These letters are like teddy bears holding a heart, albeit 7,000 teddy bears: generic, manufactured, and available pretty much anywhere you can buy condoms.

When the fireworks fade and the flowers wilt, it's the effort that remains, and though it takes effort to buy or orchestrate these gestures, in the end it's what lies behind them that matters; It is in the knowing you, the details and flaws they get and accept; that when you're stuck, or weak, or feeling alone, there is someone on their way regardless of where you are...
...and hopefully they're bringing a Sausage and Egg McMuffin, cuz you know that shit just makes it all better.

KFC PSA

2006-12-22T19:14:00.000-05:00

I recently went to KFC and got a macaroni salad with my greastastic chicken. After taking a few bites I thought they had given me one that had gone sour, and so I went up to exchange it. Turns out the new one she gave me as well as the original were made only a few hours ago. This can't be, I thought. KFC macaroni salad is forkful after forkful of artery-clogging yumminess, and this monstrosity before me tastes like rotting milk and salmon paste.

Upon further inquiry I learned that KFC has recently changed the recipe. I don't know if it is to conform to a "trans-fat free" culture, or they are just trying something new. What I do know is that the macaroni I once knew and loved has been replaced with what I imagine Miracle Whip that has been left in the sun would taste like....had it been stirred with a tampon.

Consider yourself warned.

Deep House Dish

2006-12-13T11:44:00.000-05:00

When Rachel Dratch left SNL I said goodbye to Deep House Dish, one of my favourite recurring sketches. It was a talk show where the DJ Dynasty Handbag (played by Kenan Thompson) and his friend Tiara Zee (played by Rachel) would interview fictional dance music stars with names like "Trey Letraj" and "Drama Martinez" after they performed a bit of their latest song. Every time this sketch was on I was guaranteed to actually LOL at least once, especially since many of the spoof songs could almost pass as real dance music, so I was very sad to see it go.

That is until last week when it was back on. DJ Dynasty explains that Tiara Zee is no longer with us. (She's not dead, just dead to him, after posting a picture of him in his Dunkin Donuts uniform online) and has been replaced with T'shane, played by Andy Samberg. I was thrilled! Then the first performance by Beginnings Chang (in the clip above) solidified why I love SNL. When it's good, it's great!

Mariah Christmas and a Happy New Year

2006-12-09T13:58:00.000-05:00

“O Holy Night” is by far my favourite religious Christmas carol. You can’t beat “Carol of the Bells” if you have a choir, and if you’re going to go secular, “I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas” gives you that sweet cocoa in front a fireplace sense of false memory. Actually in my case it brings back the memory of singing it with my grade 4 class for the Christmas Pageant and falling off the back row stage (and taking Katrina Mihanovic with me)…good times.

As far as newer Christmas carols go though, the pickings are mostly slim. There’s the occasional cover that’s pretty good but originals like “Jingle Bell Rock” and “Felice Navidad” (the elevator music version) are the devil! But then there is that fantastic exception; in my opinion, the closest thing we have a to a classic modern Christmas carol: Mariah Carey’s “All I want for Christmas is You”. Who doesn’t like this song!? I’ll tell you who, people with tiny hearts and no spirit.

How can you hate an up-tempo Christmas song that asks, nay, demands you sing along to it…perhaps into your electric toothbrush? You can dance to it, you can jump around like an idiot to it, you can frolic in the snow to it, and if you’re like Mariah you can seduce a dude in a Santa costume to it.

Where Realism Ends and Pessimism Begins

2006-11-29T12:33:00.000-05:00

A few days before a vacation ends I prep myself for the return to reality. I generally assume people will be late for things even when specifically asked to be on time. If someone were to spend a lot of money on something like jewellery or flowers I would accept graciously while always thinking of ways the money could have been better spent.

I genuinely don’t see myself as a pessimist. Through the years it’s the reputation that’s sort of stuck, but when it matters I’m usually Mr. Brightside: A bad mark isn’t the end of the world, a failed interview was probably for the best anyway since you’re destined for bigger things, the date didn’t go so well because you deserve someone better. When I say these things I genuinely mean them. Being a realist, contrary to popular belief, is usually pretty optimistic.

I have a one-frame comic up in my locker that shows a cartoon woman standing on a curb; the byline reads, “Sometimes I imagine my lover is leaving me, so I’ll be prepared for the eventual breakup”. I shat my pants laughing when I saw it because it is sort of my mantra. If you expect the worst, if it happens, you are better prepared to handle it. If someone takes out a will at a young age they are seen as proactive, if you have money put aside for an emergency you are seen as responsible. Baby-proofing you home is common-sense, and it’s illegal to drive without car insurance.

In all of these cases being prepared for the worst case scenario is smart—why not side with caution when it’s something important? If this is true why does preparing for the possible end of a relationship seem so horrible? No matter how I write these next sentences, I know many people have already dismissed them as “negative thinking”, but the realist in me knows divorce rates, knows the stats on successful long-term relationships, knows what it’s like to be blindsided and remembers long conversations with friends who “didn’t see it coming”.

At the risk of going all Carrie Bradshaw, in a world where we hide our PIN numbers so people don’t break into our bank accounts, and install alarms so people don’t break into our homes, is it really so crazy to be on alert for someone who might break our hearts. HA HA HA! I should totally be smoking and looking out my Manhattan apartment window right now.

Laugh and Shiver and Cry

2006-11-16T18:39:00.000-05:00

“Yes Darek I fuckin’ watch Clone High, that’s like the 14th time you’ve asked me”. Well technically I sort of lied those 14 times. I watched Clone High, meaning I caught the first 4 episodes and then abandoned the show many years ago. Recently I discovered that the entire series has been uploaded to YouTube. The occasional episode may cut off (Damn that “Litter Kills” episode) but for the most part they are all there in their entirety.

I just finished watching what turned out to be the series finale today and not since Models Inc. has an unresolved cliffhanger left me this disappointed that the show would not be returning. Clone High is hilarious. The concept alone is genius: DNA taken from the corpses of important historical figures is used to breed clones who all attend high school together under the watchful eye of a shadowy government organization and a principal with his own agenda. Abe Lincoln pining for Cleopatra, JFK as a womanizing man-whore macking on all 3 Bronte sisters, Marie Curie’s clone being hideously deformed because of all the radiation her original was exposed to. Fantastic!

I’m not sure if it is only a rumor but apparently MTV gave the show the axe because it got a lot of flak from people angry at the portrayal of Ghandi (an ADD afflicted, dancing teen horndog). Seriously!? It’s a frickin’ cartoon about clones, if we’re being technical they’re not even joking about the real Ghandi.

This show was quick, witty and poked fun at those “very special” episodes of teen dramas. With a likable love triangle, an unresolved mystery, a fantastic vocal cast and an infinite pool of famous figures to introduce, it was destined to fail. Cartoon Ghandi was too offensive, so stay tuned for MTV’s newest show, Pimp My Mom, immediately following Vagina Auction.

You’re breaking my heart MTV, and to quote Abe Lincoln’s clone, I wear my heart on my sleeve so when I wiped my face, I got heart all over it.

Discipline (of the non-sexual variety)

2006-11-09T14:14:00.000-05:00

“Seek freedom and become captive of your desires. Seek discipline and find your liberty.” I think this Frank Herbert quote sort of offers a perspective as to why our generation of twenty-somethings is wandering sort of aimlessly. Previous generations had military obligations, or had families at a younger age or entered a company from the bottom and worked their way to the top. All of these things demanded a huge amount of discipline which offers purpose in a way. We are of the “play it by ear” generation. If you’ve noticed people in their twenties often suck when it comes to making decisions. When asked what they feel like doing, the common response is “Whatever, I’m up for anything”. Is “being up for anything” what makes us feel so lost sometimes?

Marriage takes a lot of discipline, and the divorce rate reflects this. Saving money takes a lot of discipline, and the number of people declaring bankruptcy reflects this. We are a non-committal generation. We work contract jobs, we have “friends with benefits”, we agonize about our purpose in life because we are the fortunate few who have all the options open to them—and that freedom is actually kind of scary. How can you settle on ONE major, ONE partner, ONE ultimate destination, when there is an entire world of choices out there?

There is this strange societal stigma towards discipline. No one wants their boss to be “too bossy” so they try and be your friend. Personally as long as you’re respectful I really don’t care if we’re chummy. At the library I work at we keep relaxing the rules so we’re not such disciplinarians. Now instead of telling people they can’t eat, or to turn off their phones, we turn a blind eye. Again I think we’re doing a disservice to the people who have to mop up the spilled coke or have to try and study while Chamillionaire is “ridin’ dirty” as someone’s obnoxious ringtone.

I have sat in meetings where managers let employees ramble on about inane things instead of taking control of the situation. We have all seen parents throw up their hands and let Cody and Madison run amuck in public. Courts tiptoe around issues afraid of hurting peoples’ religious sensibilities. Part of me just wants that manager to take back control, make an executive decision and move the hell on. I want to see that parent physically yank their kid down from the thing they shouldn’t be climbing or actually follow through on a threat to turn the car around. I want courts to be like, “Sharia law, no thanks, we have a legal system already” or “Stop gays from marrying, give me one logic-based reason why we should!”

This reminds me of the speech Sideshow Bob gives when he is caught rigging the election: “You need me Springfield. Your guilty conscience may force you to vote Democratic, but deep down inside you secretly long for a cold-hearted Republican to lower taxes, brutalize criminals, and rule you like a king”. Obviously a corrupt leader is bad, and a Republican leader even worse, or is it the same thing? (badoom ching) but I think deep down inside everyone has some longing for structure. Without the obligations associated with previous generations it seems it’s up to us to find our own version of discipline.

Maybe we can save for a house, or set a fitness target, or learn a skill of some kind. Even tiny victories give us a sense of purpose, and make the idea of not having a set path, a little less terrifying. We as a generation have so much potential and we just need the focus and lack of fear to achieve it. Jim Rohn once said “Discipline is the road from goals to accomplishment”. Maybe the way to stop feeling so lost is to find the road again.

Let's Get Some Shoes

2006-11-03T10:47:00.000-05:00

I love this video. Sean introduced me to it and I have watched it well over 30 times by now. If you're into weird, this has got your name all over it.

Two Tickets for "Love is Nice" Please

2006-11-02T14:49:00.000-05:00

Lately it seems a lot of conversations I am having revolve around coupledom and singledom. More and more of my friends are pairing off (which I'm happy about I unsarcastically swear). Though I notice my single colleagues in their late 20s and early 30s are becoming acquaintances with their lifelong friends and becoming kindred spirits with the staff at their neighbourhood Blockbuster. And a friend of mine whose ex works with Animal Control recently informed her that the number of people who die and are eaten (at least in part) by their starving pets is on a steady incline; Man's best friend indeed.

But even when I am not thinking about the thin pink line that divides the singles from the coupled-off I am hit with something that resonates. At my new, overly pricey dentist's office you can watch a movie while they drill holes in your face. While I was getting all my old fillings replaced (fun, right) I watched the entire 2004 blahsterpiece "Shall We Dance". And while I couldn't always follow the plot, what with the whirring and buzzing of equipment I would catch snippets of dialogue here and there.

The one and only time they left me alone to "rest my jaw" I got to hear Susan Sarandon's awesome speech. Usually the dreck the characters spew in these kinds of movies is too maudlin and sappy to be taken seriously but in one 30 second clip she summarized exactly why people even get married anymore:

Beverly:
We need a witness to our lives. There's a billion people on the planet... I mean, what does any one life really mean? But in a marriage, you're promising to care about everything. The good things, the bad things, the terrible things, the mundane things... all of it, all of the time, every day. You're saying 'Your life will not go unnoticed because I will notice it. Your life will not go un-witnessed because I will be your witness'."

Isn't that the most touching thing you have ever fuckin' heard!? I roll my eyes at the predictable "your eyes are like" similes and feel nauseous when people claim to fall in love at first sight, but that is what beneath the dozen roses and heart-holding teddy bears is what I think we all truly want.

In total contrast to that my I-Pod is in dire need of something new so I entered a chatroom and asked "What is your favourite song or artist, I need some new music?" Most replies were along the Madonna, Mariah route (that's what I get for asking in a gay chatroom) but some random guy suggested I check out Regina Spektor. I ended up downloading everything I could and fell in love with one song called "Ode to Divorce". The lyrics combined with how she sings them really illustrates the feeling of love at an end:

The food that I’m eating
Is suddenly tasteless
I know I’m alone now
I know what it tastes like
So break me to small parts
Let go in small doses
But spare some for spare parts
There might be some good ones

You’re talking to her now
And you’ve eaten something minty
And you’re making that face that I like
And you’re going in, in
For the kill, kill
For the killer kiss, kiss
For the kiss, kiss

~pause~

I need your money, it’ll help me
I need your car and I need your love.

People always tell me they won't be the type to change once they are in a long-term relationship. It's not that anyone makes a conscious effort to be different, but naturally your priorities change, your availability changes, the things you can do, the places you go and before you know it, your friends only appear upon invitation. This is the case. It's not a bad thing (I'm totally saying this without sarcasm) it's just the progression of things.

Is it bad then that that every time I say "There's plenty of fish in the sea" I breathe a little sigh of relief that it didn't work out? When a friend has a bad date or decides to call it quits before it gets serious I smile a little inside (on in the case of Adrienne, a little outside--I'm still such a jerk for that :P) I was thinking of this when channel surfing and I caught the last 2 minutes of an episode of Will & Grace. Grace has just met Leo and is having second thoughts about artificial insemenation with Will. Will is furious since she craps out on him on a regular basis :

WILL: I always let it go, Grace, because it's not like we're making a baby or something. Except this time, we're making a baby!

GRACE: Yes, at the moment you say, the place you say, wearing the clothes you say. You are a control freak! All I asked for was one month, one month to see where this is going.

WILL: Oh, let me tell you where this is going. You'll end up hating him in three weeks, because--I don't know, he has a weird chest hair pattern, or he doesn't like watching E! Or he'll end up hating you, because you're too needy. Then you'll fall apart, I'll pick you up, and then, magically, you'll be ready to have a baby!

GRACE: Wow. So that's what you think of me. Look, I'm sorry that I met someone, 'cause I know how much you hate it when I'm happy.

WILL: Oh, that is such a load--

GRACE: Admit it. You're happiest when I'm miserable. I mean, come on. Isn't that our thing? Because then you don't have to look at how miserable you are.

WILL: Shut up, Grace!

GRACE: But I am not gonna be miserable for you. I am gonna try to be happy, and if you can't deal with that, then you are even more pathetic than I thought!

WILL: Get out of here.

GRACE: Go to hell!

WILL: I want you out of here in two weeks! You don't live here anymore.

It's strange that I stumbled across this episode right? Stranger still that I only caught this scene, no? Stranger still that the first time I saw it I thought Will was being unreasonable and this time around I just felt bad for him. I just look at those old letters from grade school and high school: BFFs whose faces you barely recall, smiling photos with people you don't keep in touch with and a whole lot of "4 Eva" promises that never really panned out. (Who's Eva?)

Again, this blog doesn't really have an ending--just a collection of musings. I'd like to pull a Grey's Anatomy or Desperate Housewives and have some kind of central theme but it's really a sort of mishmash. Just read it in the voice of Mary Alice or Meredith Grey and pretend.

Crimes Solved Implausibly

2006-10-27T11:33:00.000-04:00

CSI and CSI like shows are fun to watch in small doses but I can only suspend disbelief for so long. There are a whole slew of things that make them less than plausible, from the agents that could double as catalogue models to the fact that everyone works in a sort of dark blue light, which you think would be the opposite of what someone in forensics would need. Though my eyebrows are especially raised with the following four things:

Overknowledge

Every agent no matter how young seems to not only have a photographic memory of everything they have ever seen, but can easily be called on as an in-house pro regardless of their expertise:

Agent 1: Agent 2, you went hunting with your dad once when you were 9 right?
Agent 2: Yeah, why what’s up?
Agent 1: We think our vic’s wound is from a hunting knife.
Agent 2: *looks at wound for like 5 seconds* Judging by the size and depth of the wound I would say it is either a Mueller or a Hazen…wait, the hilt print on the torso means its from the Mueller R-series, unique to their 1987 line…you can only get those at a collector’s shop in Mercer, Kentucky…Let’s Roll!

Supercomputers

The graphic capability alone is craziness. Not only can their computers cross reference people who live in Peshtigo, Wisconsin with people who have ever owned a grey, or maybe bluish vehicle, with people who have purchased peaches in the last 3 weeks, but when they do this amazing work, they do it in style. Screens are projected, holograms appear, entire movies are produced by inputting a few variables. Pan to a real crime lab where some poor sucker is leafing through scores of un-catalogued files hoping to stumble across some minor clue.

The Accused

Have you noticed that when investigators show up at someone’s house or place of work, they just keep on doing what they were doing before they arrived!? Whether they are changing their oil or arranging flowers, the fact they are being asked if they knew where so-and-so was before they were found dismembered in a backpack doesn’t phase them makes them instantly guilty in my books…or at least crazy. I know it’s probably done so not every scene is the same, but if two agents showed up at my door inquiring about someone I know being murdered I would stop shucking corn or whatever and give them my undivided attention.

The Agents

In CSI specifically the agents can be really cunty. It’s like they forget that a well-chosen pun may be sort of inappropriate at the scene of a grizzly murder: It’s always something like, Grissom walks into a cathedral where 3 elderly nuns are found butchered, “I guess it’s true what they say, old habits die hard”. What the hell!? Why don’t you do your job and leave your smug ass and callous asides at the door!

I know a lot of these things are done to make it entertaining, but after a while it just becomes laughable. I can look past the runway-ready agents, and the fact that the most obvious person is never guilty, but the conclusions they jump to are hilarious:

Agent 1: He was wearing Nikes when he was killed.
Agent 2: Isn’t Nike the Greek goddess of Victory?
Agent 1: Didn’t our corpse here have a friend named Victor Yang….Victor Y….Victory! Of course! Send a squad car!!!

Sometimes a dead dude is just a dead dude. The most obvious guy is the killer and the agents investigating don’t wake up in make-up and earrings.

God

2006-10-21T16:29:00.000-04:00

I recently stumbled across a website that allows you to input any bible passage and it will look it up for you. I was randomly inputting passages like “Deuteronomy 3:14” and getting things like “Jair, a descendant of Manasseh, took the whole region of Argob as far as the border of the Geshurites”. This was instantly funny to me because it reminded me of Homer randomly picking a bible passage (Matthew….21:17) when trying to counter Rev. Lovejoy, which the Reverend instantly recites: “And he left them and went out of the city into Bethany and lodged there?” Homer just responds, “Yeah, think about it”.

This was until Earl suggested I enter my Confirmation name and my birthday as a search (John 3:30) and let that answer any question I might have. Though I never formulated an exact question I was looking for overall inspiration and what came up was “He must become greater; I must become less”. This sort of weirded me out since A) It was the first quote I had randomly selected that didn’t blather on about a location or a family line of some sort and B) Because it actually offered a sort of response.

If “He” was referring to God then does that mean I should make God an actual presence in my life? I haven’t exactly been on speaking terms with any sort of deity since I was 14 or so and decided that the God I was raised to believe in was either dead, non-existent, or no longer concerned with the pettiness of his creation.

When I studied Gnosticism for one of my English classes I related to the idea of a demi-god. Gnostics believe that the true God cannot possibly communicate with his creations. In the movie Dogma they touch on this saying that if we were to ever hear God’s true voice our brains would explode and our hearts would melt. According to Gnostics the true God creates a projection of itself which in turn fulfills the role of creator people often attribute with God. This demi-god however believes itself to be the true god and so do most all of its creations. This to me has always been the God people pray to in hopes of passing an exam, or getting the job they applied for. It is humanized, assigned gender and given the role of “The Father”. It is a far less lonely perspective to believe that Jesus is your homeboy than to think we are incapable of comprehending what God truly is.

I don’t like organized religion, to those who know me that is hardly news. It’s not that I don’t comprehend its value, I just dislike many of its aspects. Though many people internalize and adapt their religious doctrines, questioning their faith to make it stronger, a lot of people just take the package as is, accepting at face value everything that they are told—and that creeps me out. Historically, not questioning a belief system and following blindly a set of rules that aren’t resisted in any way, rarely ends well.

While chatting with a neighbour who had just gotten his mail I glanced down and realized he had a subscription to “The Catholic Register” and for some reason it bothered me and I didn’t understand why. This morning I had this conversation with another neighbour while waiting for the elevator:

Me: “Hey Adam, how’s it going”?
Adam: “Pretty Good, beautiful day out there”
Me: “It is…You’re looking pretty spiffy, where you headed?”
Adam: “My turn to spread the good word” (or something along those lines)
Me: not knowing what to say, “Right On”
Adam: “You should take one of these,

As Adam got off the elevator I read the pamphlet he had given me. As a Jehovah he would be witnessing the end of false religion including those who support the unions of gays and lesbians. Adam was off to hand out his pamphlets to any number of people who would scrap them or close the door on him, but he might find someone today that sees the rapture coming and wants on the boat away from the hellfire. Here’s how you can be saved. Here’s what is right and wrong. Here is what is good and bad. Open your hearts and wallets my friends, salvation is coming and it don’t come cheap.

I really don’t know how I am going to make “God” a “greater” presence in my life. In writing this I realize the answer most certainly does not lie for me in the template of organized religion, yet the vague “spirituality” non-atheists practice always seems unfulfilling. This blog doesn’t really have an end. Mea Culpa

Just Onederful

2006-10-14T01:10:00.000-04:00

I normally hate comedy series finales. There is this compulsion to wrap everything up; to have every character's issues resolved which always feels like a cop-out. Friends was guilty of this, so was Sex and the City which is a sore point whenever I talk about the show.

For me the finale ruined what 6 seasons had worked so hard to build. Four women all struggling with their relationships with men discussing sex and love candidly. Whether the episode focussed on sexual promiscuity or the fear of dying alone or the aftermath of what happens when something good just doesn't work out resonated with the people who watched it. Everyone has a favourite character but whether you relate to the doe-eyed traditionalist, the unapologetic sexpot, the hardened independent or the hopeful creative, you likely see a bit of yourself (or a bit of what you wish you were more of) in the others. The finale made each of their individual stories sort of pointless as they all ended pretty much the same. The conclusions of previous episodes that focussed on friendship as personal strength, or not equating singledom with sadness became irrelevant, as the show about 4 sexy singles in New York ended up a show about 4 women in relationships. To me the show betrayed the characters and the audience by revoking everything in preached by not leaving even one of the women single.

Not to be too Carrie Bradshaw but...

Are single people ever truly happy?

I say this not because I am unhappily single, I honestly don't feel that a relationship is the right thing for everyone, and my sister was an abuse counsellor for many years so I KNOW relationships can be pretty toxic too. What I do know is that being the only (or one of the only) single people at a party blows goats for bus fare. I know that my friends in their thirties who have not yet paired-up are going out to more weddings and staying in on more weekends. I
know that carrying groceries from the parking garage to your apartment would be easier if someone would hold the doors. I know married people live longer statistically. I know having two incomes would make life a hell of a lot more fun. I know, at least in theory, that having someone committed to you and you alone makes the spaces in-between less gaping.

I also know that being single has its advantages too, but thats's another entry. I just got a call from Crystal in Thailand as I was wrapping up--serendipity I tells ya.

Sinful Pleasures

2006-10-06T10:04:00.000-04:00

There is now a Taco Bell in the Square One food court. The Taco Villa is no more. That’s all. As simply as this blog began, it ends.

To Sleep, Perchance to Sleep S'more

2006-10-04T15:52:00.000-04:00

Friends tell me horror stories of tossing and turning for hours, staring up at the ceiling, knowing they’ll have to get up in a couple of hours with barely any sleep. When I tell them it rarely takes me longer than 3 to 5 minutes to pass out I get looks of jealous disdain.

I get sleepy walking through the Sears linen department. I am the worst person to ride shotgun as I will fall asleep on you the entire way there AND back. I have fallen asleep in movies, in restaurants, clubs, bars and pretty much everyone’s house I have ever visited; in the middle of conversations; sitting up, standing up and even on the toilet. Once while returning from a movie I told the friend I was driving with that we needed to pull over as I couldn’t make it home without closing my eyes for a couple of minutes. When I awoke he was eating a Tim Horton’s Bagel. Apparently I had been asleep for 45 minutes and he had gotten hungry.

Lately it has gotten worse. It’s not from lack of sleeping as it seems the only thing that stirs me awake on my days off is a bladder ready to explode. I get really strange looks when I tell people I never wake up in the middle of the night. I often wake up with my glasses still on, lamplight shining, magazine on my face, or worse yet magazine on the floor; meaning I fell asleep while reaching for the switch on my table lamp.

On two occasions I was overcome with such a need to sleep I just lay on the floor. My bed was a mere 8 steps away and I just sorta…lay down. I also find myself “losing time”. That’s when I am watching something and even though the show has just begun, it’s suddenly over and I realize I must have slept through 40 minutes of it, but do not recall even closing my eyes. The last 2 nights I have passed out on the couch at around 10:00pm only to wake at around 3 or 4 unable to fall asleep again until it’s time to go to work.

So in conclusion don’t be jealous. It blows being unable to keep your eyes open, falling asleep at parties or on dates or during intimate conversations. Next time you can’t sleep, watch a movie or read a book and be happy you can do so without the Sandman punching you in the face.

Weird Experiment: Do a Google Image Search of the term "yawning" and tell me if looking at all the pictures makes you yawn too...or if it's just me.

XOXO

2006-09-29T10:38:00.000-04:00

I am not from an emotionally expressive family. It’s not that we don’t love eachother we’re just more likely to build you a bookshelf or make you dinner than to utter the words.

In high school I never hugged anyone, EVER! It was a strict rule of thumb I guess I used to keep my distance from people—assuming wrongfully that one day they wouldn’t be my friends anymore.

Then I entered university and many things changed; I hugged, a lot. Almost any pictures I have from my time at York I am squished into someone else; arms clasped, cheeks mashing into one another and a big goofy smile on my face. I greeted everyone with hugs—not manly battle hugs with back-slapping and shoulder bumping, and bodies as distant as physically possible, but warm, all-encompassing “I am so glad to see you” embraces.

Then I graduated and for some reason I reverted to my old ways. When I greet people I give them the reverse head nod, which is weird because if your arms are extended and you do the same gesture it looks like you’re picking a fight: “Wanna Go!?!”

When I am at a party and I see someone I haven’t seen in a while I do that weird open palm in the air thing that says either “Hey, how’s it going?” or “Pass me a Sprite”.

Worse yet is when you’re leaving. If I am beyond the point of the one giant wave to everyone present and into individual goodbye territory it will inevitably become an awkward dance of figuring out one another’s upcoming action. Hands are half stuck out, cheeks are presented, high fives are lingering in the air and open arms are comin’ at ya. Inevitably I will do the wrong thing, hugging the high-fiver or hand-slapping the cheek-kisser. Awkwaaaaard!

My friend’s boyfriend is the world’s most notorious hugger. His hugs are full-body boa-grips that last an inordinately long time, and though this freaked me out a little initially, I now welcome them because it makes me feel like he’s genuinely happy to see me.

This is why next time I see you and we’re both standing up, I’m going to hug you. It won’t necessarily be a long hug but you’re getting hugged, so this is your heads up. It may seem strange coming from the guy whose heart is 2 sizes too small but in the words of Marcy Park (Earl and Jen, I’m lookin’ at you) I’M NOT ALL BUSINESS!

Why I Heart Chicago

2006-09-26T18:12:00.000-04:00

Let me count the ways....

This past weekend Earl, Jen and myself went to visit Byron in Chicago. The trip was fantastic and the following are 10 things that helped make it awesome:

1) The John G. Shedd Aquarium

This was our first stop bright and early Friday morning; a place where man is closest to aquatic nature...

....and Earl is closest to the man, closest to aquatic nature.

One of the most impressive displays was the caribeean reef where hammerheads, stingrays and beautiful tropical fish co-existed. They were however way too fast for my camera so after taking shot after blurry shot I settled on my muse, the giant turtle with a bum leg.

He was having none of it but he was too slow to escape my molasses-like reflexes. Another interesting albeit disturbing display was the "shit that goes down when species that shouldn't mix do" room.

Never flush exotic fish down the toilet because they will breed with local fish and make new fish with eyes beneath their mouths, which are hella-creepy and they will eat your babies.

2) Signs

I couldn't stop laughing when driving through Michigan I kept noticing road signs informing drivers that fines had increased to $7500 if you hit a road worker. Is that really supposed to be a deterrent? Shouldn't, I dunno, killing someone be it's own "watch out" message. Are there actually people out there who are like, "whoa $7500, I'd better reconsider".

All over town signs kept grabbing my attention:

Closer look:

I can't believe someone ripped-off my porno with breakfast idea! Now I have to re-write my entire business plan. What the hell am I going to do with 500 copies of Black Juggs.

We ate at this mexican place after going to a bar and I was happy to see that former boyband sensations were still welcome preparing huevos rancheros for hungry people at 3 a.m.

I was also fascinated that Americans have discovered a new dimension--perhaps spongebob feels you up in the dark! Only one way to find out!

3) Jerker - (Byron's Play)

It's not like I was unprepared for the nudity or the subject matter but Jerker was still a bit of a shock to the system which is perhaps why when By asked how I liked the play the first thing that spilled out was "It was difficult to watch". It's one thing to watch someone you don't know play out erotic phone-sex fantasies and threaten to piss in some dude's mouth, it's another entirely to watch your good friend simulate masturbation for the first 40 minutes and then accidentally see his nuts when his back is turned to the audience. In the end though Byron was brilliant; he took a vulnerable, difficult and very visceral role and ran with it. My hat goes off to you as always.

Since I think Earl was exposed to a good 10 years worth of gay in an hour and a half I suggested we just skip boystown and instead just drove through. The street was lined with these cool spaceships:

This of course spawned the "rainbow rocket to Uranus* tagline I knew the photo was destined for.

4) Sightseeing

Byron was good enough to be the host of both our walking and driving tours of Chicago. From standing outside Oprah's Harpo studios and being mocked by a passing cyclist

to posing with the Michael Jordan statue (apparently melting his competition as he leaps over them) outside the Chicago Sporting Place of some sort.

At Navy Pier Earl was trying to announce "Land-Ho" as he spotted the Chicago skyline. His arm was always just out of my shot and I kept telling him to bring it in which resulted in this picture:

Millennium Park houses this giant metal bean. It's actually really cool and sorta brings the open space together somehow. You'll also notice in the background the building with the split in the middle. According to Byron this was an intentional counter to all the tall phallic towers, one metal vagina in a sea of dick; which brings us to...

5) Architecture

Chicago has some breathtaking modern and classic architecture. Every street is a postcard in the downtown area, in many ways it's everything Toronto has the potential to be if only it got its act together:

From Navy Pier you can see the Hancock Observatory and in the fog that tower is frickin' forboding.

I kept picturing a cabal of very powerful people steepling their fingers on the top floor watching the people below and cackling. I however have an overactive imagination which makes itself clear in the next category.

6) Quotes

Any good time comes with a few good quotes. Since we'd all slept like 3 hoours the night before we decided a quick snooze Friday evening would energize us for the night. I however had a random night terror (something only my family has had the misfortune of witnessing). I woke up and was convinced the giant octopus from the aquarium was on the ceiling and it was crawling into Byron's room. I logically start screaming something like "Oh No Oh God Oh No!" before I snapped out of it. As per usual I apologize profusely and pass-out instantly. The next day this was the subject of much mocking.

Mocking was also in order when, while watching a sea of Chicagoans cross a busy street I remarked "I would love to be invisible and see where they go and what they do". While I intended to communicate that I kinda wanted to "Being John Malkovich" into their heads and see how they live, it came across more like I wanted to follow them home and watch them pee.

On Friday night we were approached by a sorta slutty looking girl and her friend who asked us, "Do you think my friend looks like a hooker?" to which Byron very diplomatically replied "We're not going to answer that". It was so "no comment". I of course lied and said she looked lovely so they would go away. We did see the girl later at the club and the girl's dancing totally overrode any lies we tried to tell.

While eating a pint of ice cream each inside the beautiful Hyatt Hotel we noticed a lot of people wearing all white and many had yarmulkes on so I was like "oh it's probably like a Jew convention". Jen acted all offended by the word "Jew" which made me crack up as it reminded me of Michael on "The Office" asking Oscar if there was a less offensive word than "Mexican" to refer to someone from Mexico--HA! In the end it WAS a Jew convention.

This picture spawned the phrase, "Holy Stained Glass Titties" usable in all situtations of shock and surprise: "Holy stained glass titties that's hot!" or "Holy stained glass titties Batman!" This is Byron fondling the stained glass boob, what you don't see is the disapproving stares of passersby.

To class it up some this quote was etched on the front of a building which I found inspirational:

Chicago, City of serendipitous inspiration and perversion :)

7) The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee

I loved loved loved this musical. There was audience participation, improv, free snacks, memorable songs, and brilliant performances by the actors. I have since listened to the Broadway Cast Recording and the Chicago cast kicks their ass. While broadway actors are too busy Christina Aguilleraing their lines to show their range, the Chicago cast actually sang and performed with emotion. My two faves were Olive and Leaf Coneybear (above). God I want to see this again I have not laughed that hard at a play in years!

8) Food

Can't write about a trip to Chicago without mentioning the food. I was getting over a stomach flu so my appetite was nil but I still managed to cram in as much as I could. The pinnacle of Chicago dining is the deep dish pizza at Giordano's

It was so good and so filling and so cheese-filled that inevitably we ate far too much and ended up looking like this:

That is except for Jen who has been on a diet for the last few months resulting in her experience being even more pleasurable than ours:

Feel it in your soul Jen, feel it in your soul.

We ate at late-night Mexican joints, Pogue Mahone's where Byron works, sushi, burgers and iced custard (damn tasty) but before we left we had to stop at an institution of American cuisine:

Where I took this picture:

Later I spotted the "Crave Crate" which holds an alarming and sorta vile 100 burgers. Oh those Americans.

9) The City Itself

Chicago is a City built around its people instead of people cramming into an illogically constructed City. It has a gorgeous waterfront, a 24-hour transit system, free trolley cars to major destinations, a bustling art and sports scene and more places to eat than one weekend would ever allow. What Chicago also has is a strong history; not just the standard stuff, but places like Second City have produced some of my all-time comedy favourites. Looking at the pictures inside it seemed like the funniest members of SNL, MadTV, SCTV and Strangers With Candy all got their starts at Chicago's Second City:

Steve Carell and Amy Sedaris used to perform toegther! Oh to have seen it then!

10) Friends

I've gone and saved the best for laaaaaaaast.

Nothing like a road trip and time away with friends to make you appreciate them. Byron and Cheryl for letting us stay with you and taking so much time to show us the City.

Earl for driving the full 8 hours both there and back and in the City and Jen, I'd like to think our friendship has grown now that you have physically assaulted me and I have farted in your general direction.

This was an awesome trip! Thanks guys for making it so memorable!

Why The Simpsons Needs to be Cancelled

2006-09-19T18:12:00.000-04:00

BLASPHEME!!!

I never thought I would utter those words, but after Sunday’s episode I realize more than ever that the show has been over for years, and what remains is a sad shell of its former glory.

In an episode of Buffy (wow Simpsons & Buffy in one post—nerd fanboy alert!) Buffy’s sister misses their recently deceased mother so much that she conjures a spell to bring her back to life. It is understood that this is a mistake as the resurrected creature will be soulless, but a mourning Dawn completes the spell anyway. As we see the shadow of their mother approach the door Buffy and Dawn tearfully accept that they will never see their true mother again and tear up the picture of her used in the spell; the shadow disappears and they weep.

It’s time The Simpsons’ picture was ripped up (arguably it was time like 7 seasons ago). The problem is the same. The show that appears Sundays at 8:00 p.m. is like the shadow outside the door; lacking a soul it’s just a random string of poorly written jokes joined by a barely coherent storyline. We watch because it looks so much like the show that was once so sharp and witty—a biting satire so subtle it could take aim at major targets like religion or the government, or even the very network it was on and get away with it. The Simpsons felt realer than any lame sitcom family because the characters made you care. Now it’s painfully clear they’re just caricatures—cartoons; flat pictures with missing dimensions.

This Sunday I barely smiled during The Simpsons but found myself laughing throughout Family Guy. Nothing against FG, but even its funniest gags can’t hold a candle to The Simpsons in its prime. If you watch FG in repeats you’ll see what I mean. A pop culture joke or an “I can’t believe they went there” gag, both funny at the time, grow a bit stale on repeat viewings. Fans of The Simpsons not only reference the show but it becomes part of their vernacular; they refer to it without even knowing they are, in that way it sorta permeated popular culture and worked its way into our everyday. The fact that books have been written using The Simpsons to debate theology, philosophy and politics speaks volumes about its ability to cross cultural lines.

Today The Simpsons runs on implausible side stories, minor character histories, and thin predictable archetypes. For years I have watched and waited, hoping that The Simpsons of old would return—and though for a while there were smatterings of laughter I think I have finally come to terms with the death of what I consider the greatest comedy in television history. I will watch until the bitter end because much like a children’s recital, you go not because it’s good, but because you love the people performing, even if they’re not very good.

Simpsons of old, thanks for teaching us that comedy is nothing more than an incisive observation humorously phrased and delivered with impeccable timing. Simpsons of new, here’s hoping this is your last season.

Not Just For Flipping The Bird

2006-09-12T15:58:00.000-04:00

Other fingers all have respectable reputations: the index finger is the primary function finger, the ring finger is sort of like a figurehead waiting to be crowned. The pinky is small and cute and the thumb most notably seperates us from the rest of the animal kingdom, but the middle finger is known for one thing alone.

It is not until I developed a paronychia (finger infection) on my left middle finger that I realized how often we use this finger in our day to day lives. this is mainly due to the fact that using it sends a strong shockwave of pain which reminds me that it is far more useful than I ever would have assumed. Using my turn signal for instance has always involved my left middle finger. Wringing out a cloth, tying my shoe, or even the simple act of shampooing my head, all excruciating reminders that the vulgar finger on the less useful hand ain't so useless afterall.

In about an hour I'm likely having the infection lanced. It'll hurt like a bitch but the pus-squeezed remnants will serve as a constant reminder to never take it for granted again. So thank your left middle finger, give it some lotion, swear at a stranger with it, but DO NOT bite its nail off, as a paronychia hurts like a mother fucker.

The more you know folks.

The Secret Lives of Mannequins

2006-09-08T11:27:00.000-04:00

In the vast majority of fashion shows the models are expressionless. They are a living canvas for the clothes and too much going on with the face can distract from what the designer wants you to focus on. This is normally true of mannequins as well; most have a distant blank stare, if they have faces or heads at all, but yesterday while walking through the mall my friend Sean pointed out this one:

There is a definite expression in her face—it sort of says “I can’t believe YOU were invited”. I’m kind of unclear on the motivation for a bitchy looking mannequin. Where does one even place her? I was thinking she would be prefect outside of the dressing rooms—each person emerging, looking for validation and meeting only her chilly disapproving gaze: “Culottes….isn’t that an interesting choice”.

This began my search for other expressive mannequins (which was not an easy task as snapping phone pics of 6 foot tall plastic ladies doesn’t speak well for your mental stability. Then we stumbled across her:

I have dubbed her Lindsay (not sure why) and I was intrigued by the fact that she looked like she was going to start crying. Once again the motivation for a forlorn looking model escapes me but I couldn’t help wonder what was making her so sad. Did the previous mannequin dis her zebra-stripe ascot? Was she just hot in that coat? Then it became clear. She was stood up. Lindsay has been waiting for that guy for weeks now, and it has only just dawned on her that he is not coming.
Internal dialogue:
“Keep it together Linz
Do not cry….do NOT cry”.

In contrast to Lindsay is Regan:

It is fitting that the picture turned out so blurry and bright because in my eyes Regan is tanked out of her mind. Unable to find the friends she came with she has accepted an invite to “party” with the boys from the Parasuco window. Unbeknownst to her one of those cads has slipped a roofie in her vodka-cran. Luckily she makes her escape as they do not have legs with which to give chase. You made it out this time Regan…be vigilant in the future!

And finally there’s Rob.erta, Roberta…ROBERTA! She’s a recent post-op transsexual and this is her first major social event since her surgery:

Unable to enjoy herself, Roberta is wracked with paranoia that people won’t adjust to the new her:
“A vest! Roberta, what were you thinking!? You want people to embrace the new you and you show up dressed like you’re ready for your first day at an all-boys boarding school!
“Keep it cool Robby
Do not cry….do NOT cry”.

Running to Regret

2006-08-31T16:25:00.000-04:00

The week after my 14th birthday I got my first part-time job. I was the first of my friends to be working and I still remember buying my first item without my parents present--it was an overpriced green zip-up golf shirt from Eddie Bauer. The shirt was far too big for me and it sat in my closet for years under the assumption I would one day grow into it. I never did. My dad wears it to work doing construction now. 10 years later and some use finally came of it.

In grade 12 over lunch with my friend Holly, somewhere between the McChicken and the McFlurry, I made the decision to fast track through my final year. That afternoon I saw my counsellor and dropped all my unnecessary classes, stocking up on my OACs instead, with the knowledge that by June I would be free of the school I'd grown to hate.

Over lunch today I went to the bank and arranged my mortgage. The financial advisor had kind words to say about my willingness to save in a time when there is a lot of temptation to spend. Perhaps encouraged by her approval, (i'm weak like that) I set-up an extremely tight amoritization period with sizable payments that are going to be a challenge to meet, but not impossible.

When my friends were sleeping-in on weekends I was riding my bike at 6:00 a.m. to open the restaurant. I got a paycheck but I slowly grew to resent the place that wiped me out for $6.40 an hour, and resent even more the last-minute plans friends would devise for their weekends. Had they just given me an extra day I could have found someone to cover my shift, but 14 year-olds have no concept of "peniclling someone in". It wasn't their fault, I just started working a little too early.

I wandered around the campus at York desperately looking for an orientation I had scheduled work around. When I found it I realized that people were already mostly oriented with eachother. The majority were either living on campus or had come with friends from high school. Because I had fast tracked I didn't know anyone there. I sat in the back and listened to the Dean of Students talk about the plays put on by Vanier (I couldn't audition as they met on Tuesday nights when I worked) as well as the newspaper I always put-off writing an article for. Then he opened up the social part of the day; relay races and pub crawls, but it was almost 1:30 and my shift was at 2.

I wish I had continued with French. I wish I hadn't dropped interactive media. I wish I had lived on campus for at least a year. I had raced through high school to arrive first at a finish line that didn't exist. i was competing with no one and missing out on more than I understood.

I'm 24 now and I'm still doing it. As I signed over my life savings this afternoon all i could think about were the jobs I worked to gather those savings: flipping burgers, selling overpriced office supplies, shelving books, having people yell at me full-time. Then I thought of all the doors I was ostensibly closing: travelling abroad for long periods, being able to quit my part-time job. I guess life is all about choices and I've made mine, I guess I'm just worried I'm still running.

How to Cure a Hangover

2006-08-29T11:26:00.000-04:00

The curative properties of a McDonald's Quarter Pounder with Cheese should be studied with great enthusiasm by medical minds. There should be reports in JAMA extolling the virtues of this simple yet effective breakthrough. Quarter Pounders should be available at pharmacies and health food stores, shelved in the apothecaries betweeen the ginseng and eye of newt, because the magic this little package of fat and oil performs is nothing short of spectacular.

I first began to suspect that the Quarter Pounder could effectively prevent hangovers when it struck me that regardless of how much I drank the prior evening, if the night ended in a 3 a.m. Mickey D's stop, then I would wake the next day feeling healthy and refreshed, showing no symptoms of a classic hangover. I tested this theory with other greasy spoons; stopping for Denny's or Pizza never provided the same relief. I'd wake the next day bleary-eyed with a pounding headache, cursing myself for forsaking what had helped me so many times in the past.

This power isn't associated with their entire menu either. This Saturday my friend Jen was nice enough to drive my drunken ass to McDonald's after we came back from the club. Upon ordering that sweet greasy panacea we were told that they started serving breakfast at 4--it was like 4:15. After lamenting those lost minutes I settled on breakfast burritos (not as gross as it sounds) and headed home. Needless to say I woke up at like 9:45. Unable to sleep anymore with my faint nausea and throbbing head I took the bus back to where I'd left my car, wishing we'd left the club 15 minutes earlier.

Now many of my friends have jumped on the healthy living train, which is great--forgoing late night runs to The Grille for early morning runs through the park, and replacing gravy on the side with a light vinegarette instead. I know advising people to eat a greaseball burger before bed will send them to their calculators, inputting data to figure how this sinful indiscretion will affect their Body Mass Index, but on occassion isn't a little latenight "beef" and "cheese" worth a pain-free morning...or more accurately a pain-free 4 in the afternoon?

Oh! Janice! Stop It!

2006-08-24T16:36:00.000-04:00

Janice Dickinson is a terrible mess of a human being: she's bitchy, emotionally unstable and as self-absorbed as they come, so inevitably she is a gay icon. I'm not quite sure why women with horribly unappealing characters are embraced so wholeheartedly by the gays, but that's another blog entirely. I have watched the entire first season of The Janice Dickinson Modelling Agency except for the last episode which has not been posted and realize that Janice isn't the saucy, brazen, tell-it-like-it-is judge from ANTM, but the vulnerable, damaged, mildly psychotic and likely schizophrenic case study from The Surreal Life.

In one episode she caterwauls "My models aren't strippers Nikki" when a rep from the Virgin Megastore wants the models to be a bit sexy on the runway: a little dirty dancing, a little light spanking. This is fine if not for the fact that one episode later when a rapper needs girls for a video shoot, Janice makes them come in and grind with the air, crawl on the table towards him and pretty much striptease. In a different episode she even threatens to fire a girl who won't take off her pants since she's not wearing any underwear. She is late to every meeting, drunk for at least half of them, and her poor kids see it all unfold before them.

The best part is her sudden, almost violent moodswings. She is very physical. She'll push people, grab them, yell, throw tantrums, which is why the commercial below is so great. (especially the grandmother):

The Warm Fuzzies

2006-08-20T16:56:00.000-04:00

Watch “Little Miss Sunshine”. If you have read any of the rare reviews that poo-poo the film for being a bit too sweet at the end, or for the characters being a bit too quirky, know that those reviewers are dead inside. They are the people who think flowers are tacky, nothing is fun and comment that your newborn baby looks kinda fat.

The movie had me and the 3 friends I went with laughing throughout. Abigail Breslin as Olive is so sweet without being saccharine which is usually really hard with child actors. The entire cast is brilliant and everyone has scenes and lines that are so memorable: “Sweet…Sweetness” being a group favourite. (You’ll have to watch it to know why). Everyone is damaged, from the suicidal uncle to the father fighting desperately to not become the “loser” he’s always preaching against. Even the bus they drive is falling apart, but it’s the perfect central motif for the movie. Even when things collapse and fail and disappoint, there is that bond that makes it easier to bear, when someone else matters more to you than yourself.

After the craptacular “Step Up”, the worse-than-possibly-imagined “X3” and the ho-hum ‘Superman” it was nice to watch a movie that brought some light to an otherwise bleak movie-watching summer.

Homesense of Self

2006-08-16T11:53:00.000-04:00

I went to 8 Homesense stores spanning everywhere from Burlington to Vaughan in search of this print. I had stumbled across three in the series while at Vaughan Mills and knowing that somewhere out there was a missing link drove me crazy. I had a chef playing pot-drums, a chef playing a whisk-saxophone and a chef singing into a spoon-mic but there was a gap and it was slowly eating at my sanity. I couldn’t look at them with their missing counterpart; like I’d assembled some ragtag band sorrowfully saying “How can we play without strings?” I knew I would have to find the chef playing his rolling pin-guitar or shamefully return the lot of them—defeated.

Thus began my journey to Erin Mills, Rockwood, Etobicoke, Heartland, Oakville, Burlington and finally Clarkson, after psychotically ravaging each of their ‘Wall Décor” departments and coming up empty I drove to Rona to buy a laser level and call it quits. As I walked through the store I stopped in their home furnishings department and there sitting in an oversized frame was the print; it was thinner than the others, and didn’t have the same black backing, but it was about the same size and if I could get it out of the frame it would almost be a match.

My reaction when I got home was the same reaction Bart gets when Lisa returns his soul, while she is prattling on about the journey of man Bart just eats the piece of paper in an animalistic fit of relief—I did the exact same thing to the frame, tearing away at the binding, stabbing myself with industrial staples in the process. When it was done I looked at my completed set and literally sighed, as though I’d been holding my breath. In retrospect it was a bit psychotic driving around the entire suburban GTA for a tiny print, but part of the satisfaction was in the journey:

Hitting 9 different stores based on general impression of where they were and never getting lost (for the record I get lost in restaurants coming out of bathrooms). Stopping at the Oakville Gallery on the way to Clarkson and taking in the Warhol exhibit. Accidentally driving up to a drug bust in the woods and having both the officers and guys being arrested wonder who the weirdo in his grandma car listening to Kate Bush was. Even stopping in the final Homesense, realizing I’d hit another dead-end and punching my frustration: “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” into pillows in the linens department, was all a part of the journey that made the final result that much sweeter.

Plus the fact I drove a couple hundred kilometres in search of a painting that in the end was a 5 minute walk from my house didn’t make me homicidal shows a lot of growth.

Two Years in Bangkok and the World's her Oyster

2006-08-03T15:50:00.000-04:00

What used to come to mind when I thought of Bangkok was whores--it was like word association:

Dog ~ House
Baby ~ Bottle
Bangkok ~ Whores

Thanks to shows like Dateline and plays like Chess my view of Bangkok pretty much resembles a film noir street set: dark alleys, smoke coming from the sewers and hundreds of asian sex workers pouring out of every door and window.

Now my friend Crystal has moved there for the next 2 years. At first I pictured her getting off the plane and immediately being waist-deep in prostitutes, while wearing like a white cardigan and ankle-length skirt, seduced by the sex and scandal and ending up an opium addict giving handjobs for 20 baht. Since then I have exposed myself to some non-musical based research and am a little more comfortable with the idea of where she is going. I am still going to miss her as this is much longer than we have ever been completely away from eachother in like 13 years, but I am so proud of her for making the leap.

At a party this weekend someone who just came back from Thailand informed me that her most vivid memory was attending a "lady-show" where she sat and watched some chick catapult ping pong balls from her cooter....so if the whole teaching thing washes out Crystal, it appears Thailand is quite the nation of opportunity.

Being Ooh La-La

2006-06-15T15:33:00.000-04:00

Last year my friend Darek was wearing a clean white T-shirt when a bump caused him to spill a bit of his Orange Crush on it. He looked down, and disappointingly exclaimed “Oh No, now I’m white trash!”

Over my lunch hour today I had to return something to Ikea and I decided to stop at Sherway Mall on the way back. If this was the States, Sherway would definitely be the “white people mall”. It was a veritable WASP’s nest; no discounts, no bargains, no fashion faux-pas, just seas of Mrs. Havishams and undiscovered catalogue models with no afternoon obligations and seemingly bottomless pools of disposable income.

I am walking around in what would normally pass as business casual but in the presence of the social elite I am suddenly painfully aware that I dress like shit. It’s funny how we tend to juxtapose ourselves without even being aware of it. This was only exacerbated by the Abercrombie & Fitch store. The staff resembled the cast of Laguna Beach and the customers ranged from tall attractive businessmen to tall attractive surfer types; and there at the entrance against the exact same backdrop you see above, was the live-in-the-flesh model on the left, just kinda hanging-out….shirtless.

People gawked, teenage girls giggled and took pictures with their friends, and the staff who may as well have been in black & white themselves smiled politely as I awkwardly fingered some random item of clothing while pretending not to look. (turns out it appeared I was showing a keen interest in a lovely little camisole).

I once told Darek as we passed a red-carpet party downtown that one day I wanted to know what it was like to be “oh la-la”, and here I was in the oh la-la central office and all I could feel was out of place. I’m sure if we could freeze that moment I would stick out; among the hunks and potential starlets, the low-riders and the high heels would be me, standing in womens’ summer wear, sneaking a peak at the living mannequin, wishing I hadn’t bought that orange pop.

I Don't Get It

2006-04-14T15:37:00.000-04:00

Perhaps at 24 I am embracing my inner crumudgeon. I just don't know what's hip anymore. Do people say hip? I've lost all touch with the youthful part of myself. All I feel now is lower back pain, looming bill payments and a general unease around teenagers. I am also utterly dumbfounded by most trends:

Sushi
It's not that I don't get the appeal, it's the social currency around it that confuses me. It's like the more exotic sushi you have sampled the cooler you are:
"I like California Rolls"
"Well, I have sashimi at least once a week"
"Well I once ate a seahorse and blowfish combo platter"
"Well I have been known to swim behind swordfish and nibble on their tails"
It's raw fish. It's cool if you like it, but odd when people recount their sushi meals like war stories.

Lowering Your Car
Sweet, it looks like my car is gliding on the road. I can't really drive it in the winter and even the slightest of speed bumps will tear apart my undercarriage but...it uh...it glides.

Vinyl Records
The coolest of the cool have record collections. I am all for collecting vinyl because you truly love music and digging through a record store to find a buried gem or an old favourite would be a fun hobby. Where I get off the "records are cool" bus is when collectors insist that the sound was way better back then; you can really hear how it was recorded. I've listened to my share of records and what you often hear is static and scratch marks clouding the original recording. Modern technology just cleans up the sound so you can fully appreciate what you are listening to. I'm not one to fawn over new gadgets but sometimes new really is better.

Hipsters
Hipsters to me are the new goths. It's a movement whose members believe they are achingly original where they instead come across as painfully similar; awash in a sea of plastic glasses, Chuck Taylors, unnecessary blazers and oh.....the bangs.

Damaged Fashion
I was searching for a pair of jeans at the mall the other day and I left with nothing. I am really not hard to please when it comes to jeans so this was odd. It was such a struggle to find a decent pair that didn't adhere to the "frayed or faded" style. Am I the only one who likes new clothes to look, I dunno, newish? Simple denim now undergoes a process that I can only imagine includes dragging them behind a car for an hour, taking a lawnmower to one of the legs while rubbing the other leg in bird poop.

I can't be fashionable. I don't know if I've gotten too old or I'm just not "phat" or "phunky" enough for the new trends. What I do know is that if I were to ever catch a child of mine cutting up a newly bought pair of jeans I would slap them 'til my hand hurt...then slap them again for making it hurt.

(life lessons a la Lisa Turtle's mom)

Snapple, da dadda something something

2006-03-30T15:45:00.000-05:00

A few years back there were some radio ads: some guy introduced himself as Tim or Todd or something, and then proceeded to sing a song about Snapple, usually with one of those pre-programmed keyboard beats in the background. They were f'in hilarious and there were at least 3 or 4 of them, and I can only sorta remember the tail-end of one of them (which I have included below to help jog your memory). If you can remember any others or (be still my aching heart) have them recorded somewhere I would love you forever (and yes, in that way):

Snapple, you should really try it,
Snapple, it also come in diet
not that you need it, you look perfect, did you cut your bangs?
Snapple!
Thanks.

You Know It's Time for a Career Change When...

2006-03-27T10:05:00.000-05:00

When I have nightmares I do it like a champ. Most people have one that they remember the next day while I have a succession of images or vignettes one right after the other. Last night was one of those nights and two of those mini nightmares stick out in my head: In one I am drying my face with a tea towel from home when I look down there is all this blood on the towel and I am aware that something has bitten me. The pattern on the towel is sorta zigzag and I realize that they are jaws which have cut up my face.

In the second dreamette I am in a dark room and there is this baby that just won't stop crying and it just gets louder and gurglier and then it's just screaming like sharp sirens, so out of nowhere I get this jug of ether (as seen in the photo, triple x and all) pour it on a towel (the tea towel from the previous dream?) and cover the baby's mouth so it will fall asleep. Then the lights come on and I'm at a party where everyone now thinks I killed the baby instead of making it pass out. Disturbing to say the least right?

Well apparently not disturbing enough because the alarm wakes me up at 7:30 and the fact that my psyche still believes my face has been cut up, or that a room full of people believe I smothered a kid pales in comparison to the overwheling sadness slash bitterness I feel that I have to go to work. I want to start sobbing or vomiting, or both at the same time, an action I have dubbed "Cry Heaving". Is this what the first day back is like when you have the whole weekend off? Is this the Monday blahs I've heard so much about? Of course when you get to work it's not that bad but man is it a challenge to get your ass out of bed.

So to recap, I would apparently rather get my face eaten by a tea towel and accused of infanticide then come to work on a Monday morning.

Everybody Into the Pools

2006-03-16T10:53:00.000-05:00

I am a reality show junky. It's not the shows themselves that interest me, but my belief that all of them except perhaps Amazing Race are fixed from the start. Shows whose formats stay the same like America's Next Top Model or Survivor or The Apprentice will eventually develop a certain pattern; certain character archetypes that reek of producer or editor involvement, and eventually despite a few deviations they will become very predictable.

My habit has extended into the world of office pools. I usually have at least 2 or 3 going at once ranging from two player, $40 dollar pots, to 8 player $160 dollar pots. I have won big (Yeah Nicole Cycle 5) and have lost big (Stupid Lluvy Cycle 4) but the fun is in the playing--rooting for people you might normally loathe, hating your colleagues for taking your favourite (Damn You Gary for taking Chris Daughtry!) Oddly enough I miss quite a few episodes of the shows I have money on, but most of the fun is in the results anyway, except for America's Next Top Model of course, to which I have an almost religious fanaticism.

Below are the three shows I currently have pools going for:

America's Next Top Model

It's too bad this picture turned out shitty as ANTM is by far my favourite pool. It is exclusively between Sacha and I and the selection process is a hoot. I print out all the girls' pictures before the show begins and lay them out. We rock, paper, scissors who gets to go first and then schoolyard pick (they are in order of selection in the photo) until only one mutually disliked girl remains, and she is labeled the "Charity Case" (in this case Brooke) which means if she wins no one gets the money and the runner-up decides which charity gets the pot.

You can't really make it out in the picture but the losing girl's face is crossed off on her headshot while tears are drawn on the face of the other picture depicting how much of a crier she was upon being eliminated: Kathy got welling eyes and a slow full single tear running down her cheek, while Wendy has water gushing out of her eyes from every angle. God I love this show.

American Idol

We drew numbers to see which order the 3 of us got to pick in. I had to go last which means I lost Chris Daughtry to Gary. I pretty much think Chris has got this competition as well as my undying stalker-like love in the bag. When someone is eliminated their torn portrait is added to the pile of broken dreams. There is only one face there now, but 10 more souls have yet to feel the brutal slap of rejection and get tossed in the pile. Man, I take way too much pleasure in seeing reality show contestants topple.

The Amazing Race

This show got the most effort I have ever put into an office pool: colour profiles printed at home, 11 players each of which I took both a triumphant happy photo and a defeated upset photo to be exchanged if their team is eliminated. As you can see two teams have an eliminated stamp on their faces and both Marie and Gary look very distraught over it.

This is a pool where people choose their teams by lottery which means you often get people you'd rather see lose but hope win since it means a cash prize. I got Lake and Michelle in the pool. Lake is a complete asshole who is emotionally abusive to his wife and yet I still hope they win, and maybe Michelle can use her half to get a really good divorce lawyer.

I Spy With My Abnormal Eye

2006-03-14T19:11:00.000-05:00

As anyone who has ever tried on my glasses can attest to, I am one blind mother fucker. I have both myopia and an astigmatism so severe I have yet to visit any eye care professional who doesn't double take or "whoa" when they see my prescription. At today's optometrist appointment I was told that I should be wary that the hardcoredness of my astigmatism could be a symptom of keratoconus: which arises when the middle of the cornea thins and gradually bulges outward, forming a rounded cone shape. This abnormal curvature changes the cornea's refractive power, producing moderate to severe distortion. Awesome.

There is nothing to worry about yet but when I asked how bad it can get she told me that in really bad cases it may require a "corneal transplant". Needless to say I pooped a bit when I heard those words. It also got me thinking about the attachment we make with people's eyes. We see so much in them and they reveal so much about other people. My eyes are the only part of my body I like dammit! I may have thin girly fingers, a facial bald patch that prevents me from growing facial hair and a set of man boobs that has me one step away from shopping in the junior miss department for a trainer, but I really like my eyes: they change colour with the weather, I can make my pupils grow at will, and most of all they are the one physical feature I get complimented on (mainly because they don't require any kind of maintenance and I had nothing to do with them). And for a sucker with a need for the occasional ego-boost, they have always come in handy.

I don't want new corneas, so I will do my darndest to keep these healthy. She told me hard contacts (smaller and more easily lost than the soft lenses that everyone else has) may actually help me see better, plus I'd get to see without the shield of glasses; the catch being the few months of getting used to them "bulging under your eyelids when you blink". The choice for vanity is also the choice for better vision. The choice for laziness is also the choice for comfort and financial savings. I'm torn.

Creepy example of coincidence - the theme on American Idol tonight is Stevie Wonder songs.

The Bloody Ties That Bind

2006-03-09T11:16:00.000-05:00

Only in the world of pirated movies can Dawn of the Dead be a “feel-good romp” while Siskel & Ebert give movies “An Enthusiastic 2 Thumbs Up!” 6 years after Gene Siskel passed away. Part of the joy of pirated movies is the fuck-ups you get on the cover art. From the description of King Kong being in what I believe is Lithuanian to the barcode on the back actually scanned cut and pasted from a chocolate bar, the attempt to make the covers look real is almost always comically screwed up.

This was at its most hilarious last night during the gayest evening in the history of time that didn’t actually involve anything directly gay. A friend and I got together to watch America’s Next Top Model (both glorious hours). We then bought 2 pints of Ben & Jerry’s Ice Cream at Rabba ($3.99 is unheard of, so we had to get two) and ate them while watching the Girliest of chick flicks imaginable, “In Her Shoes”. Yes, there’s nothing like 2 dudes watching a touching film about sisterly love.

Ladies if you ever want to trick your boyfriends into sitting though this with you be sure to borrow my copy. On the cover is a large “Mature Audience Warning” label. We thought this was weird that one or two mild expletives and vague sex conversation would warrant a mature audience label. This was until we looked at the explanation beside the giant “M”: “Adult Themes and Frequent Battle Violence”. We just about shit our pants trying to picture Cameron Diaz leading a platoon or Toni Collette assembling an assault rifle. I kept picturing a voice over an image of Shirley Maclaine looking forlorn out a rainy window while cutting some dude’s hand off, “Two sisters learn that some ties are not so easily severed”.

It's Neat to be Obsolete!

2006-03-02T14:28:00.000-05:00

Everything old is cool again. I’m not talking about fashion or music but actual old crap. Everyone is obsessed with getting the newest, the latest, the most up-to-date, but personally I think obsolete stuff has its merits.

Take digital cameras for instance; more megapixels, more digital zoom, more money frankly and in the end we take the same still photos of our friends posing we would have taken with the old family Pentax. I almost never take my digital camera anywhere—that shit was expensive and I am terrified of dropping it or getting it wet or having it stolen, why the hell did I buy it? The best pictures we got from our cruise in May were from disposable cameras that we tossed back and forth, while most of our digital cameras snapped the same pictures from 19 different lenses, but boy were those pictures high quality.

Another great example is cars. I drive a 94 Toyota Tercel. When I finish a bottle of water I toss it into the backseat. If my car takes a hard hit from a speed bump or someone bangs my car when they open their door I just shrug my shoulders. I can pretty much guarantee no one will ever steal my car. Hell I could leave the keys in the ignition overnight and solid chance my Grannymobile will still be there come morning. Sadly my dear car is on its last legs and I may soon have to look into purchasing a vehicle I might actually have to care about. I’ll worry about security and keeping it clean plus my insurance will be way higher, all this for a shiner paint-job and a driver’s side window that closes properly—hardly worth it.

Cell phones are a crazy case of buyer fatigue. Each new marketing campaign makes your old phone seem like shit. Now they record video, identify music, administer insulin, perform CAT Scans, allow you to teleport and make you live forever. That’s pretty much how we react to each new generation, like we couldn’t possibly survive without the changes that have been made. In the end 99 percent of what we do on our phones (calling and text messaging) we could have done on the old Clearnet models from 1995, not to mention the fact that those clunkers could withstand being dropped from the CN Tower while today’s phones break at the drop of a dime. My previous flip phone broke because apparently the very fragile wires that run through the phone snapped when I flipped it open too hard! Sacha’s phone went on the fritz because she takes it with her into the bathroom where there was apparently “too much moisture in the air”. The Zack Morris phone seems more legit everyday.

This brings me to my computer. It’s old. Like, crazy old. Like Aqua’s “Barbie Girl” was still huge when I bought it. This is okay though. Having a crappy computer means I can open attachments from people’s e-mails, I can download music and movies and not care if they have viruses because frankly my computer is a virus hotel. I think I have so many viruses they cancel eachother out. There is no stress regarding reformatting or updating to the latest software because frankly it couldn’t handle it anyway. I just kick back and let my Celeron processor do it’s thang.

Impetus & Impotence

2006-02-28T10:44:00.000-05:00

This kid is me trying to write a blog. Well his face is me, his hair is more Friar Tuck meets my neighbour Lori’s communion photo. For the month of February I have written 2 blogs. That’s a far cry from my 3 times a week standard from before. This is in large part due to lack of motivation. I start a blog, but then I file it away without finishing it or I do finish it but realize it’s crap and toss it.

On top of the motivational rut is the intimidation of people’s blogs that are far better. I don’t know why I let this bother me as I have a readership of my circle of friends, while blogs like fourfour and gofugyourself have thousands of weekly visitors. It’s that reality that someone is always funnier or a better writer or just beat you to the punch which makes you both admire them and secretly want to push them down a flight of stairs a la Showgirls.

I like blogging though. Since most of my life revolves around paper pushing and filing TPS reports, it’s nice to have an outlet to talk about my love of ricotta cheese or my love of Catwoman (entirely underrated cheese). Share my theories about who’s a tranny or why getting old inherently means being less cool. Mock celebrities, rave about TV shows, gripe about life, share knitting patterns, or just take a ride on the tangent train to WTF station.

Sorry About Your VD

2006-02-13T20:36:00.000-05:00

Venereal Disease?
Vaginal Discharge?
Oh wait, it's February, the coldest, crappiest month of the year so that means it must be VALENTINE'S DAY!

Whether you are coupled or not you have to admit this holiday is a joke. You don't get time off work for it. It's pretty much just a gougefest for florists, chocolate makers and jewelers. The greatest part is pointing this out makes you seem bitter while hallmark rolls around in the money you spend on stuffed bears holding "I WUV U" hearts. The Simpsons satirized this brilliantly when they invented "Love Day":

"We need something between New Years and Valentine's"
"Well we had great penetration with Christmas 2"

So I declare a blanket Bah-Humbug on the day as a whole. We should all get together, spend no money and have a good time with nothing red or heart-shaped.

And for those celebrating:

Just joking!
I kid because I love,
and isn't that the true meaning of Valentine's?
Loving ourselves and eachother.
We'll be right back.

Swing

2006-02-06T19:26:00.000-05:00

Heterosexuality in North America

Homosexuality in Iran

Which event would you rather have been in the crowd for?

Thousands have been killed under extremist Islamic law. Above are Mahmoud Asgari and Ayaz Marhoni. Teenagers.

Homophobia needs to stop. Think for a second and strip away the pre-programmed bullshit. What are you afraid of anyway?

Everything shouldn't have to be a battle.

Walking uphill all the time can make a person really tired.

If you don't believe gays deserve every right granted to heterosexuals at birth, then rest assured you are no friend of mine.

Different but equal is always different first.

A Before Picture

The Magus

2006-01-27T10:56:00.000-05:00

As I was searching for an exam I wrote in my second year Communications course I stumbled across an essay I wrote in Grade 12. (exactly 6 years ago today; strange, no) It was for a teacher who I both deeply admired and who I was also afraid of. He was well-known for being a hard marker so getting an 'A' on one of his assignments was quite the ego-boost. For our final ISU he provided the class with a list of books from which to choose one. He then approached me and suggested I read John Fowles' The Magus. It was not on the list and it ran almost 700 pages. I was proud he had confidence in my ability to take on such a huge text (in both ideas and size) so I agreed.

Needless to say the book kicked my ass. Not only did I have to read like 70 pages a night to have it done on time but I had pages upon pages of notes and I still felt overwhelmed. There were such complex ideas of personal identity and sexual politics. It was like a combination of Eyes Wise Shut and an episode of Twin Peaks. When it came time for me to write my essay I choked. I couldn’t write anything worth reading and was genuinely considering not doing it, and just taking the failing grade. I was that overwhelmed. My teacher eventually convinced me to write what I could and I produced a paper that was short of the page count and most definitely not my best work.

When the semester ended he gave everyone an overall evaluation on the essay as well as a kind of final word. In mine he included the following:

I’m writing to inform you that you are not in fact the Magus, nor are you the second coming. You are merely a confused individual poised on the edge of the great escape into higher level academics, and eventually personal, social and individual freedom. It’ll take a while to get there but I know you’ll have a good time when you do. As for your essay—yes of course I expected more of you, but then to have actually finished reading the text and made notes on it was a stellar performance on its own. Your analysis was excellent and I was glad to see you rescue some of your talents through this piece of writing. I know it’s not as great as it could have been but I celebrate your analysis and ability to comprehend such a mammothly complex text.

...We are bred to wear masks and to hold these up to maintain face. I believe that you’ve tapped into some of that understanding and hope you continue to do so along the great journey. Just please don’t convert your life into waiting for the sugar refill at Tim Horton’s. You do have more to offer life and yourself than that. Aim beyond the library my friend! Good luck in the years to come—they will be gruellingly difficult for yourself and should offer you the best learning experience of your life. Don’t squander it.

P.S. I would like a copy of this paper please.

The 17 year-old me re-read this dozens of times. I assumed by telling me that I was not the Magus or the second coming he was telling me I was arrogant. When I approached him about this he told me I had gotten it wrong—that wasn’t what he meant. It was odd since The Magus is all about godgames and exercising power and seeing the future, and I felt like his words were doing that to me. Did he know something I didn’t? It’s 6 years later and his response on that paper is still the one I remember most. Essays I have written have been called everything from brilliantly crafted to shoddily thrown together and yet they faded from memory pretty much after I got them back, but this one is always in my head.

Have the last few years been gruellingly difficult? Have I squandered that time? Do I challenge myself at all anymore? There is nothing like the words from someone you admire. The slightest compliment makes you feel so good about yourself, but the criticisms dig their way in as well-- creeping up whenever you feel self-doubt.

Can I borrow your sugar?

They're Better Than Bad, They're Good! (1)

2006-01-20T20:18:00.000-05:00

Blogs (including mine) tend to be a place to vent, gripe and otherwise find fault with something. So in a K-os copied joyful rebellion, the following is the first of I hope many lists of 10 things that remind me life can be grand:

1) Driving by the Mr. Christie factory when they are baking and your entire car smells like fresh baked something delicious.

2) Drunken confessions of love. When the fellas get toasted and are inspired to tell their buddies that they are the wind beneath their wings. It may take a half dozen beers and a few shots, but it's nice when the sentiment surfaces. I love you man!

3) Musical Soundtracks. I'm pretty sure they comprise half of what I listen to and for good reason. Like Bjork says in Dancer in the Dark (before the movie makes you cry): "nothing bad ever happens in musicals. Actors can talk their lines fine, but something about hearing someone sing makes it that much more personal...god I'm gay.

4) Car Trips. After driving for hours you may think it's hell but something about driving with your friends brings out the memories: whether it is getting lost, conversations in the car, pit-stop stories or the things you notice driving around North America that prove that though we are similar, we are not all the same: McCrab Salad in Boston--yuck!

5) Porn with plot. Sometimes hot, always hilarious.

6) Cornbread. Ain't nothin' wrong with that.

7) The Cocoon Effect: When you wake up and realize your blankets have formed a pod around you, or you're tightly tucked in and the weight of the comforter is so very nice. It's so warm and you don't have to be anywhere right now.

8) Legal or practically legal mind-altering substances. Whether ye be liquid, leaf or night-time sniffly sneezy relief, it's great to be buzzed. Liquid courage, smoke made wings, strange imaginary friend who lives in my walls, I love you alls. The occasional stroll down the street where everything is funny and you are not afraid.

9) TV on DVD. It may be a huge waste of money since I only watch things once, but you just can't beat commercial free viewing-a-thons.

10) Chocolate. Healer, friend, confidante, caffeine provider... lover?

Reach for the Stars, Keep Your Feet on the Ground

2006-01-10T14:24:00.000-05:00

I remember writing a paper about Macbeth in grade 11. I went on and on about Macbeth’s fatal flaw being his ambition: it clouds his judgment, makes him reckless, and when his wife dies he is too embroiled in his madness to care; but is ambition really that bad? Sure killing Duncan was ill-advised but is Thane of Glamis ever enough, when the opportunity to be King is just a slit throat away? I guess what I am trying to ask is where is the line drawn between healthy desire for advancement and the foolish pursuit for something more?

To bring it to a more everyday level, I present the celebrity interview: They were small-town boys and girls. They played football. They acted in school plays. They hung out in the food court with their friends, but they had a dream and they were driven to realize it . They were going to be singers, athletes, models, actors, and regardless of the obstacles the faced they would get there sooner or later. Then they look earnestly at the camera and tell the little girls and boys out there that they should never stop dreaming—that they too could have it all.

This reminds me of my grade 9 English teacher Ms. Tousignant. She told us everyday that we could be anything we wanted to be, as long as we really truly wanted it. At first I found her zest refreshing. I truly believed if you wanted something so bad you couldn’t handle it, you could find a way to make it your own. But over the years Ms. Tousignant’s view seemed a bit more rose-coloured to me, and she went from being the optimistic eccentric to the daydreamer who wore large wrestlemania type belts over baggy sweaters.

Avril Lavigne played church functions and crappy western music until she was discovered. Jessica Simpson finally recorded an album after years of trying with a record label that folded right before it was supposed to come out. It was years before she broke through again. Ashton Kutcher was a good old country boy, whose charm and good looks took him around the world modelling and acting. How many times have you heard of a model being discovered while she was just shopping at her local mall in Nowheresville, USA? Or the factory worker who quit and lived on food stamps pursuing her dream of writing professionally, emerging from her years of sacrifice as an award winning novelist or editor-in-chief of some big magazine. These people and thousands like them had a dream, and they worked for it until it was theirs.

Sure many of them would still be nothing without the aid of their freakishly involved parents/managers, but how then do we explain the J.K. Rowlings and Helen Gurley Browns of the world: overcoming massive obstacles to become phenomenal successes. In a world where we are encouraged to settle and have a fallback and be happy with what we have, why do some continue to crawl to the top, while others set up shop in their proverbial ruts? Is it luck? Vision? Confidence? Courage?

Which voice do you listen to? The one that says go for the gold—the toothy celebrity telling you that you can do it—the English teacher who is dressed for a 1985 costume party? Or is it the one that says the job you have now is paying the bills; it may not be a fantasy land but it’s not awful. The one that tells you it’s a pipe dream, the competition is too fierce, you’re just not talented enough. Where is the line between realism and pessimism? No one wants to lug cement, clean toilets or input data for the rest of their lives, but if someone didn’t do it, things would fall apart. Is it fair to say that the road to success is paved by those who have settled in some regard?

Maybe settling is wise. Isn’t settling just a kind of negotiation with life? I’ll work this less-than-fabulous job because it pays okay and it’s close to home and my family. I’ll work at this company even though it’s not ideal because the time is flexible and has a great benefits package. Settling is such an ugly word. No one likes to think they settle for things but we do everyday: Most people do not have a dream job or dream partner. We don’t all live in, drive or buy all the things we’d like, but we settle because other things balance us out.

I think ambition is great. If you have a dream then by all means go after it. But if you don’t really have any lofty fantasies of selling out concert halls or directing movies or managing a multi-national company then that’s okay too. Do what makes you happy now. I think it is all about balancing sacrifice and risk with your current state of being. But what do I know?

Bang Bang (Slit, Snap, Cut, Laugh) You're Dead

2006-01-05T16:07:00.000-05:00

After watching trailers and reading reviews for “Wolf Creek” and “Hostel” I am officially never going to see a horror movie again. I get freaked out by 80’s cheese horror (Slumber Party Massacre 2 anyone) and can’t sleep for days after a 90’s slasher flick (I took down the Christmas tree from my room and moved it because one of the ornaments looked like the Scream mask.). So it is no surprise that the new breed of horror film that isn’t so much stab and kill as it is maim and torture physically and mentally has me shitting myself. This is why I have created a list of the 5 things to avoid after seeing a modern horror movie in order to maintain your sanity:

Whispering Children
Never a good thing. If they are wearing long garments or their hair is kinda covering their face, definitely keep your guard up. If they are not looking at you and are not responding when you call to them, DO NOT approach them, as this will result in the biting-off of your face. General avoidance of children at large is probably your best bet. Throwing hot soup at your 7 year old cousin during Christmas dinner, and running away because she quietly asked you for a napkin, will definitely be seen as a social faux-pas.

Non-Main Roads
If you are heading somewhere and there is a shortcut through a rural area, fuck-it. Take the long way through high traffic areas over the backwoods side road every time. If you have stupidly decided to take one of these routes anyway and you get lost or your car breaks down, call CAA. DO NOT venture off on your own and most definitely DO NOT ask any locals for help, as doing so is pretty much ensuring your cannibalization, slash rape and torture at the hands of a hillbilly, slash future as a wax statue.

People with Tools or Instruments (of the non-musical variety)
Doctors are not to be trusted. Same goes for cable guys, mechanics, and especially dentists. On the surface it may seem like they need their instruments to do their jobs, but keep an eye out for certain key things: unexplainable blood on your phone guy’s pliers for instance. As with whispering children the rule of general avoidance is best. It is better to push your appointment with Dr. Aburto for a month down the road, than losing your shit during a routine cleaning at the sight of his plaque scraper resulting in your flailing wildly until accidentally kicking his hygienist in the boob. I have recently learned from my friend Heather who is in dental school that they deal frequently with cadavers—enough said.

Mirrors
I know it is a tall order to say “Never look in a mirror” so I’ll be more practical and advise that once you have looked in the mirror, don’t break your gaze with it except to blink, and even that should be done quickly. Opening a mirrored medicine cabinet to get something is definitely a precursor to closing the cabinet and seeing someone in the mirror who wasn’t there before. This person will not be a friend and will more than likely have ghostly kill-you powers. When washing your face it is advisable that you don’t bend over to splash on the water as this provides ample time for a masked figure to sneak up on you; something that will only become dangerous once you’ve spotted the shadowy reflection in the mirror. You’ll never be attacked as long as you stay focussed.

TIP: When washing you face simply use a damp cloth and blot around the eyes, apply soap in the same manner and use the same cloth to gently wipe away. But be vigilant. Trying to get your eyelids wet is a recipe for disaster.

Sexy Teens in Their Twenties
Do you know any 26 year olds in high school? Do these anomalies of time have rockin’ bodies? If you’re nodding yes to this description take my advice and stay away. This is especially pertinent if they invite you along on a road trip or camping, and is compounded if it is spring break or graduation. If you find yourself in the situation where you suddenly discover your group of supposed teen friends is actually pushing 30, remain calm. DO NOT have frisky forest sex or play some sort of raunchy truth or dare. Stay in your tent as a group fully clothed and wait until daylight. The rules that apply to non-main roads apply here as well.

So let’s re-cap: As long as you avoid kids, side streets, medical or technical professionals, reflective surfaces, and anyone who has ever starred on a show for the WB, you should be okay…until the next time you go to the movies.

Springtime for Jamie in Germany?

2005-12-29T14:55:00.000-05:00

What Famous Leader Are You?
personality tests by similarminds.com

So I took the "Which Leader are You?" quiz online and the above was the result I got. Darek is like Bill Clinton, Bren is like Che Guevera and Jen G is frickin' Gandhi, and I end up with one of the most horrible men in history. I even re-did the test and got the same result. It was just like the time I was sorted into Slytherin on the Harry Potter website. It kinda sucks to be assumed evil--even if it's just by some frivolous web page. It doesn't help when your mother reminds you that you're an "animal" for not going with her to mass, and that ever since high school people like to kid that you're the devil or that you'll burst into flames if you walk into a church. I'm a good person dammit! Right? Anybody?

The part in the description that rings true is the "you focus on worst-case scenarios" segment. I just had this conversation with a friend who pointed out that I can be a really negative son-of-a-bitch. This is not to say that I go around calling people names or shitting on people's accomplisments but I'm usually the first to say a movie sucks. If you're buying something I think is a waste of money I'm gonna tell you. If a plan is getting too big and it seems like there are too many holes, I'll point it out. I bitch a lot come to think of it. And when it comes to people I usually assume the worst of them.

This makes me sound like a huge downer but I like to think I reflect the opposites as well. I may be more than willing to cut up a movie I didn't like, but I'm also the person who raves forever about the one they loved. If I rag on something a friend buys it isn't because I want to be a downer, it's because I know what it's like to look at something you bought 6 months ago and know it was a huge waste of money. I may bitch too much but I like to think it's just because I talk too much period; so my ratio of talking to bitching is about the same as most people in the end. I may assume the worst in people but I am also easily blown away by the smallest act of kindness.

So for this New Year I can't promise I won't whine or kvetch or gripe. I can't promise I'll give my thumbs up to your 60 dollar scarf that cost 35 cents to make, or not say anything snarky during Bad Boys 3, but what I can promise is that I will try to avoid becoming a vicious dictator bent on forging a super race.

The Post-Menopausal Me

2005-12-23T15:02:00.000-05:00

I may as well cut off my junk and bone up on growing begonias now, because my last professional link to anyone under 50 has been severed. Add to this the fact that at least 98% of the people I work with are of the fairer sex, I should just embrace my inner Ya-Ya sister and get it over with.

Sacha is my best friend at work...or should I say was. The only other person in her 20s that I work with has found a new job and has moved on. I threatened to kill her, shun her, even *gasps* cut her out of the America's Next Top Model pool, but to no avail. To say I'll miss her is an understatement as she is one of the only things that make my shifts tolerable. Not to mention that until we get someone new we are double short-staffed, which means buckets of work are going to be coming my way.

I am actually in her corner though, even though I'm certainly being a jerk about it. Where she is unhappy being the overeducated drone working in the mines and is taking the steps to escape, I have put up the proverbial family photos, dug in my lazy heals and accepted full-time worker bee status. Though someone in my general age bracket may be hired to take her place I am prepping to greet who I'm sure we'll be a lovely mother of 3.

Where once my good work conversations were about dating and sex and social issues and life at large, I will have to get used to the "How was your weekend" norm.

*sigh*

I'll miss you Sacha.

Your "haunted" friend,
Jamie

Because Misogyny is Endearing

2005-12-16T19:52:00.000-05:00

The world of Archie comics is insanely sexist. The kicker is that it hasn't changed in over half a century and everyone still thinks of it fondly. I was flipping through some very old covers of the Archie series and came across this comic on the left. Upon learning that she is apparently an academic prodigy destined to change the world, Ms. Betty Cooper remarks that she'd give it all up to win Archie's heart. That's awesome! Who needs personal successes when you can be boned by a philandering carrot-top instead. "America's Typical Teen-Ager", really? Wow.

This one isn't so bad: "girls are easy to take"--Oh Archie, you're so clever. The illustration might be better if the girls were perhaps tied up or forced into some sort of deranged sex act or something. At least the subtext would be a lot clearer, but luckily the line at the top keeps us clued in: "Read How Archie Treats his Women Rough". How were people not offended by this kind of thing? Maybe if Veronica had a fat lip or Betty was wearing shades it might get more of a reaction.

I know what you're thinking. It's just a harmless comic. How could "America's Largest Selling Teen-Age Magazine" be all that bad? Truthfully, it's not. I don't think anyone was permanently warped by it, but the part that kills me is that it hasn't changed in all the decades it's been around. I came across a new one recently that is set at a bowling alley. Jughead has just finished his turn and enthusiastically tells his friend, "Hey Arch, I got a spare". Archie is walking away with his eternally lovelorn wenches (one on each arm) and comments, "So do I". This is made worse by the fact that Betty and Veronica are actually laughing at this. What the fuck is so funny? He pretty much just called you expendable you stupid bitches, why haven't you bitten his nuts off yet!?

Why are they so obsessed with him? You are two smokin' hot, (in one case smart and athletic and in once case rich and vengeful) girls. Why have you been wasting your time for 60+ years!? Every issue is the same--are you hoping for some sort of miraculous change. Let me get you up to speed. One of you will discover a cure for the common cold, or organize a giant charity fashion show or balance a live alligator on your tongue, all in a thinly veiled attempt to win his cheating heart. Then whichever one of you is not currently on the Nobel Prize short list will walk by in a bikini and say something coy and flirty and the other's efforts to change the world to impress that loser are all for naught.

Attempts were made at modernizing the girls: Betty worked on cars, and Veronica's business savvy was showcased and they both played in a high school band...as backup...and the band was called "The Archies" because he is the center of their universe. Did I mention Betty got to play tambourine; waita fight those gender roles girls.

The worst part is that Betty & Veronica are dull as dishwater unless they are in competition with eachother--then the brains and sass and personality come out; and all it takes is the hurtful sting of betrayal from your best friend. What kind of friends actively hurt eachother like Betty & Veronica anyway? Their greatest (and pretty much only) bonding time is when a third girl enters the picture and they join forces: 2 times the jealousy, 2 times the cattiness! This seems to be their all-too temporary wake-up call: the guy you love is an asshole and your insatiable need for abuse and neglect is pretty fucked up.

Cheryl Blossom was an awesome character. She was Archie's third love interest (and eventually discovers they're blood relatives - yuck!). Pop her Cherry..er Cheryl Blossom causes a rift between Betty & Veronica by flirting with Archie in her seductive probably his cousin way, and neither knows she exists, assuming that Archie has chosen the other, they declare war. Their weapons? Slutty dancing and Super Soakers. Yes, they'll win back his heart by making him pop a load. And that's the sound of the womens' movement falling through a black hole.

The sad part is that women in real life do act like this sometimes, and do go for the assholes who never stop treating them like shit. Except if comics were real life, Betty would be seeking child support she'll never get, and Veronica would have genital warts.

Actually scratch that. People have theorized it before, but any man who refuses to pick one or the other is probably not happy with his choices *wink wink*

Enough Said.

Ho Ho Ho Seeeeasons Greetings

2005-12-14T10:47:00.000-05:00

It's the holidays people; spread some frickin' cheer. I am seriously going to lose it over the Merry Christmas / Happy Holidays debate. I just heard yesterday that Christian groups in the states are asking their members to boycott companies that are advising their staff to wish their customers a non-denominational "Happy Holidays". I can't tell you the rage this fills me with. I am constantly fighting with people who dig their heels in on one side or another. Half of people seem to think Happy Holidays or Seasons Greetings is more inclusive and that Merry Christmas is offensive. The other half believe that the holiday is best recognized as Christmas and so should be addressed as such; "Happy Holidays" takes away from the season. And to both these groups I send a resounding "Go Fuck Yourselves".

I am about as against modern Christianity as any one person can be, but if someone wishes me a Merry Christmas I will smile and return the favour. Wish me a Happy Hanukkah and I will do the same back at you. On top of that I hope you have a joyous Kwanzaa, a slap-happy winter solstice and a kickin' Eid ul-Fitr. They are words. Innocuous words that are said with good intention. You don't celebrate the holiday? Who gives a shit!? As long as people are trying to spread some kind of positive energy just nod and smile you irritating joykill. Reserve feeling offended for when something offensive happens you frickin' pussy. It's not like the commercial christmas has anything to with religion anyway.

And as for people who get angry that "Merry Christmas" is not the phrase of choice for everyone--get your head out of your ass and look around for a second. Not everyone is Christian and honestly that's a great thing. Diversity is positive. When the let's face it, racist argument of "It was Christmas first, and now we let them change it" comes along I just about get murderous. Who the fuck said it was Christmas first you arrogant sack of shit. Don't act like any North American country has it's oldest roots in Christian theology because we all know that's entirely false. If someone wants to wish someone else, Happy Holidays as to not recite the plethora of holidays that encapsulates--good for them. If you want to wish people Merry Christmas--good for you. If either of these statements offends you and you're good and ready to make a stink about it, then get a hobby, like knitting, or scrapbooking, or suicide.

We're all from different cultures and it's time people stop being so fuckin' sensitive or secretly racist about it. The nativity scene bothers some people because it seems to highlight one religion over another--and it does, so why not highlight the others too. Instead of working hard to get it torn down, work hard to get a matching Hanukkah display or talk to your co-workers and friends about what you did during Ramadan. Get over being exclusive. Get over being superior. Odds are everyone is wrong anyway and God is in fact dead, or 60 people, or a giant carrot. You may think you know, but you have what anyone else does--a guess.

For now all people really have is eachother and the holidays are a time to embrace your friends and your family--the fact you made it through another year. Celebrate as you so choose but don't judge others for doing the same, because that just makes you an asshole.

Sorry for the rant, but I needed to get that off my chest. Have an awesome holiday whatever you choose to do with it.

But Can I Get My Time Back?

2005-12-09T20:24:00.000-05:00

Does anyone like Nickelback? I mean that in all sincerity. I'm not trying to be bitchy or judge anyone's taste in music but I have yet to meet someone with any vested interest in this band. And it's not like I meet with indifference either, most people really really don't like them. Everytime that song "Photograph" comes on I actually get upset--I hate it that much. The lyrics are like grade 9 poetry and Chad Kroeger has this weird Cher electronic voice thing going on: "Do you believe in life after love, HO!".

If you are reading this and you or someone you know just can't get enough of Nickelback I want you to leave a comment explaining why. I think Nickelback fans deserve a forum to explain why oh why they love 'em like they do. Is it just CRTC regulations that force us to hear their songs like 23 times a day? Someone somewhere has helped them sell millions of albums right? It's great to see Canadian artists succeed but their success continues to baffle me. It was like the Spice Girls. They were the biggest group in the world and yet NO ONE would admit to owning one of their albums, but we all knew 8 year old girls and gay dudes in their 20s would keep them alive as long as they kept recording.

Nickelback, who is your obscure demographic?

12 Days of X-Mas

2005-12-07T09:09:00.000-05:00

Once again I think I was one of the only people in the dark about the "12 Days Of Christmas" Song. Did everyone else know it's a Christian allegory about the bible? At first I didn't want to believe it since a few of the days seem like a bit of a stretch: (nine ladies dancing is supposed to be the 9 fruit of the holy spirit!?) but with reflection I guess it makes sense that the four calling birds are the four gospels, and those 10 lords a-leaping are the 10 commandments, I just think it ruins a perfectly pointless jingle. Though there is no proof one way or another, some believe it was used to teach the catechism to children; meaning the gifts from "my true love" were actually from God.

To add to the poo-pooing, apparently the 12 days of Christmas begin on Christmas and end on January 5th or 6th or Epiphany. Isn't that kind of anti-climatic? The gifts are open, the food is eaten, the celebrations have been had, and NOW they decide to start--LAME!

Luckily the song has been saved by some hilarious holiday advertising; my favourite of which is the carollers singing in the Best Buy along the lines of:
"5 DeeeeVeeeDeeeeeeeeees, 4 computer games ,3 I-Pods, 2 plasma screens, and batteries"
Best Buy Employee: Don't you mean (singing): "and some batteries for my digital camera"
Carollers (still singing): No.

There is also the radio ad where a woman is coming into UPS for the third day in a row or something and after shipping the pear tree and the doves she is all frazzled trying to get the French hens in a box and when the employee notes that she is shipping the geese a bit early she's like, "WELL THEY'RE LAYING RIGHT NOW!". Priceless.

Carnival Cruise Lines are having a 12 days of Christmas sale and send me a new deal via e-mail every day for 12 days. Today's e-mail was hilarious if you try singing it:
"On the third day of Christmas Carnival gave to me...
Buy an interior stateroom and get an upgrade to an oceanview FREE!"
Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha!

I remember I used to think if I ever met someone awesome I would shower them with a gift every day for 12 days that sort of sounded like the gifts in the song:

Lorrrrd of the Riiiiiings
4 Collared Shirts
Some French bread
2 Tickets to the Doves
and a new fridge with some pears in it for free.

...I think It's clear why I've never implemented this plan.

To My Homies and Associates

2005-12-05T18:35:00.000-05:00

Hey Guys. Since my blog's readership is primarily buddies of mine and a handful of angry robot enthusiasts, I have decided to compile a list of all the blogs kept by my friends. Everyone's website had a few scattered here and there but now you can come to one source to link to all these wonderful people. From the wonderfully artistic: Kamilla, Jay-Loo, Claudia I envy you, to the reflective: Earl, Janey, Luis, to the entirely random: Darek, Mel, Kevin. There is something for everyone.

So go ahead, scroll down and get to know your friends or a complete stranger a little better...through an unfeeling screen, in the infinite void of cyberspace.

Couples Need Not Apply

2005-11-28T10:58:00.000-05:00

Relationships. It's normal to want to be in one and it's normal to feel a small pang of jealousy when someone close to you has found a good one. That said, it's also pretty great to be single, and it's next to impossible to have that recognized as a valid choice. If you think Valentine's Day is a well-fabricated gougefest, you're seen as as bitter. If you are of a certain age and not married or seriously attached, than the pressure to chain yourself to someone else becomes overwhelming. People who aren't ready or just plain not suited for relationships give in to the pressure, and then people are shocked that over half of marriages end in divorce and that infidelity has become so mundanely everyday.

Couplehood does not automatically equate to happiness. My sister was an abuse counselor and trust me when I say many, many people would be far happier on their own. I go absolutely apeshit when people I know dwell on their single status like it is some kind of deficit on their personal being. Solid relationships are great, sex is awesome, a companion that cares and listens to you is something everyone wants, but why the pressure to find all this in one person!? You have friends, you have family--embrace them, since they will most likely stay with you well after your current partner is another brick in your emotional baggage.

That being said I would like to propose an idea. When one of your single friends starts a new relationship, they get SIX'd (Self-Imposed eXile). Let's face it, when one of your friends starts seriously seeing someone the complaint is always the same: "When he/she started seeing him/her they just disappeared". Why not make this a reality? The new couple want to spend obscene amounts of time together and making time for friends becomes harder and harder. And from a buddy perspective, the pressure is on to create some kind of friendship with the new guy/girl, all while withholding judgment and vomit at their consistent and completely unnecessary PDA; not to mention the constant reminder that you are still single, and until we as a society accept that as okay, it bites.

The process of getting someone SIX'd would actually be rather pleasant. There would be some kind of Going-Away party where your single friends would gather and wish you the best, followed by the ceremonial "Deletion Event" (phone number, MSN contact, e-mail address etc...). After the party the newly-coupled friend would cease to exist to his or her old chums. Any contact while still coupled would result in a brutal admonishment and a punishment of equal severity.

Now before you go writing this off as overly-harsh, think about it for a second. The relationship can bloom now since the two have entered in a sort of conjugal banishment--needing to rely on eachother alone for companionship with no outside influence budding in with their two cents; what could forge a more powerful relationship than that? As for the PHUN (Pals Hapilly Unattached Network) friends they are made stronger since their dedication and time is more centrally allocated. The friendships will grow deeper and the lack of surrounding couples will relieve them of any unwanted pressure to pair-off.

If and when the exiled friend returns, it can be assumed that the relationship went sour and he/she will be re-integrated into the group as though nothing had occurred. The PHUN friends will not have to feign interest in the rise and fall of the couple since they were never involved to begin with. No more awkward "How is so-and-so doing" followed by the pained expression and explanation that "we're actually not seeing eachother anymore". This is not just beneficial to the members of PHUN but to the returnee as well. Not having to talk about the breakup and being surrounded by single friends who are more often available to go out, will help make whats-his/her-name a distant memory in no time.

On occasion a friend will not return to PHUN. In this case they have most definitely met "The One"; be happy for them and consider the wedding the re-evaluation period. Upon meeting the new spouse one of two decisions can be made. The friend and his/her significant other are introduced as FANs (Former Friends, Acquaintances Now), which is to say they can be present at very large functions or accessed as friends by new exiles from PHUN, but FANs are never ever to be used as a stand in for PHUN. Doing so will automatically result in being labeled a BITCH (Betraying Ingrate who Treated Chums Horribly). And you don't want to be labeled a BITCH, that kind of label will follow you to all PHUN groups and it's pretty much a one-way ticket to eating Swanson's alone at home for life.

The other decision is to graciously cut the ties that still bind you to the formerly PHUN friend. There would be some sort of understood sign: perhaps a small 'X' across the seal of the wedding card which requests that the newly hitched couple make no further contact with the giver of the gift; simple and sweet.

Since this whole re-structuring would obviously take place after certain couples have already formed they would be seen as exempt from the rules, since the times of awkward integration have already passed, but any future courtship would be seen as fair game.

I think it is win-win for all concerned.

Thoughts?

Like Carnival in Your Nose

2005-11-25T20:42:00.000-05:00

My absolute favorite word in Portuguese is cocaina, pronounced (Coke-Eye-Een-Uh). It makes the drug sound like so much fun. Nobody wants to do blow and plain old coke sounds so tired, but a party's not a party without cocaina. Every time I hear it I feel like I should snap my fingers and shout Arriba!

Let me put this in context. I was watching a Brazilian soap and the conversation was brilliant. It was a serious discussion but they said cocaina so many times it was hilarious. The following has been translated from the original Portuguese:

Maria: Sofia's husband has been selling cocaina to make ends meet!
Rosinha: Cocaina! Dear God, does she know about the cocaina yet?
Maria: Ricardo has kept his cocaina dealing secret, but with something as big as selling cocaina she will find out sooner than later.
Rosinha: Sofia is my sister and I feel that she should know about Ricardo's involvement in the cocaina world.....cocaina.
Maria: Why did you say cocaina twice just there? cocaina.
Rosinha: You just did it too...you said cocaina, cocaina...I mean Maria...I mean cocaina.
Sofia (who has just walked in): What's this about cocaina?
*worried expressions all around...Rosinha is about to speak, divulging the dark secret to her sister when suddenly...*
Announcer: **HEY EVERYBODY it's cocaina time!!**
*The chiquita banana woman and a giant bag of smack come out of nowhere and start salsa dancing with the sisters*

Well that last part didn't happen but it would have made it a lot cooler.

P.S. I don't endorse the use of drugs, especially cocaine...mainly because Trainspotting scared the shit out of me.

_-_----**** The More You Know _-_-_---

Rogers vs. Bell: Clash of the Functionally Retarded Titans

2005-11-23T18:24:00.000-05:00

Rogers and Bell are both Canadian communications monopolies. They're huge! Everytime you call someone, surf online, pick up a magazine, watch a program, they most likely have their hands in it. And much like anything that grows more than it should, it becomes too big to manage and pretty much goes to shit. My Communications Prof once said "As soon as you add a third person to an organization of 2, you get problems, add another and it gets worse". Imagine how bad it gets when the organization has thousands upon thousands of people to deal with.

To me the physical embodiment of this is those people who grow like 9 or 10 feet tall. You would think there would be advantages to being that big but instead of a powerful giant you get a hunchback with motor skill problems. It's like the organization is a cat and each new service or media outlet is another morsel of food and they keep cramming more and more down until the cat looks like Popcorn (My friend Crystal's cat, not the snack food) and then what do you have? A fat surly monster that doesn't move and puts you on hold for 24 minutes! Fuckin' Bell!

So in summary when organizations get too big they become grotesque, chunky, inefficient very tall cats.

I write all this because Bell fucked up my internet--completely their fault, and they can't even fix it until December. The alternate is Rogers which goes down more than an aspiring model waiting for her big break. ACK!

Embracing My Inner Jew

2005-11-18T18:37:00.000-05:00

Plotz, Shmooze, Chutzpah, Klutz, Nosh, Maven...Am I the only one who didn't know these were all Jewish words? Sure 'Chutzpah' was obvious and maybe 'Plotz' but the others were a surprise to me. I was going through a dictionary of words and phrases and realized that linguistically i am more Jewish than Portuguese.

Aside from "Canadian" when someone guesses my cultural background they almost always guess Jewish. I went to a Jewish school and have dated my share of Jews. I don't look anything like my sister so the only conclusion I can draw is that my parents kidnapped me from Thornhill before my bris and have raised me as their own ever since.

Oy Veh!

Like a White Trash Gypsy

2005-11-16T15:30:00.000-05:00

Showbiz parents as a rule tend to freak me out. It is one thing to like to watch your kids perform and maybe put them in the occasional talent competition; it's another thing entirely to quit your job and dedicate your life to their commercial success. The parents themselves are always really scary:

From Joe Simpson who watches Jessica's interviews and butts-in whenever he dislikes the questioning (cut the fuckin' cord dude), to Matthew Knowles who made Destiny's child practice their childhood away. In one of those VH1 shows Beyonce is talking about how they wanted to go swimming once against his wishes or something and as a result they got sick and Matthew went apeshit and made them practice harder and longer for weeks. I know it was supposed to show that he made them driven for success but it just made him seem kinda barbaric: I don't care about your fever--GET THE STEPS RIGHT!!!

The person I feel bad for is poor Lynne Spears. She invested everything she has in her daughter and now Britney's gotten too big to be kept under control. Every time I see Britney's white trash marrying, barefoot washroom going, faux-lezzie kissing, crap restaurant buying, vegas chapel using, chicken wings at her wedding serving ass I think, why the fuck doesn't Lynne step up and give her daughter the beat-down she deserves. But how can she? Britney is her living nest egg.

Unless you want to go the way of Aaron Carter's mom or Angelina Jolie's dad than you just have to shut up and stay on their good side 'til the cheque clears, her career disappears and you can write the tell-all biography. Until that happens you will happily go to your daughter's misguided wedding escorted by some guy in a track suit labeled "PIMPS". You will remark that hamburgers at the reception is such a wonderfully unique idea and when your guests have to pay for their own drinks at your multi-millionaire daughter's wedding you'll smile and try to laugh it off. Then as her marriage predictably falls apart (as is apparently happening now) you will console her, comforted in the knowledge this will make a killer end to chapter 9.

I Never Win Anything

2005-11-11T21:58:00.000-05:00

Every time there is any kind of prize giveaway or lottery I will inevitably hear a few of the losers say, "I Never Win Anything". Apparently no one ever wins anything because everyone alive seems to have said this at one time or another...except for me. I never say this because in fact I have won stuff on several occasions and I would like to say that it's really not all it's cracked up to be.

For every 40 million dollar jackpot or new 12 bedroom house, there is millions of "free pedicures" won by Freds and Roccos, and almond treat gift baskets won by people with severe nut allergies. Most of the time you end up spending more money than you want to, at a store you normally don't shop at, because you won a gift certificate there. If you don't win big it's almost guaranteed you'll win stupid: Single Richard will win the Mary Kay gift set and vegetarian Anna will win the GrillMaster's Steak Guide. They will give away their prizes and will resent the bitch down the way who won the DVD player.

Case in point, today at a charity raffle where pretty much everyone wins there were prizes like a telescope, a cordless phone and paid vacation days. There were even lesser prizes that were pretty good like coffee baskets, gas certificates and calendars--myprize: a framed picture of boys playing hockey. Seriously? Boys playing hockey. Because if there are two things I love it's children and sports. The prize could literally not be suited less for anyone alive. But this is only one of a history of prize disasters:

STEREO: I know what you're thinking, how the fuck is a stereo bad? It isn't. The thing is, it was for my brother-in-law's stag party raffle so I bought an obscene number of tickets to support the cause. It's a nice stereo but I'm moving into a shoebox and have no idea where I could put it anyway, so I'll probably end up selling it for less than the raffle tickets cost. Awesome. Plus, I won one other prize that night: A DVD copy of National Lampoon's Gold Diggers starring the incomparable wife (ex-wife?) of Ian Ziering...Whats-her-face Ziering. I think that speaks for itself.

FABUTAN PACKAGE: I'm sitting at home and the phone rings, the conversation that follows is pretty much exactly what transpired:

Naomi: Hi, my name is Naomi from Fabutan SunTan Studios, I'm calling for a Jamie.
Me: Speaking
Naomi: Hi Jamie, I'm just calling to let you know you've won a 200 minute FabuTan tanning package.
Me: Oh Great *pregnant pause*...why?
Naomi: The ballot you filled out at our North location was chosen in a draw.
Me: I've never been to a tanning salon.
Naomi: Well the ballot you filled out was picked, so you can redeem it at any of our locations.
Me: I didn't fill ou...
Naomi: Have yourself a great day. *click*

I'm a pasty mother fucker and burn like kindling in the sun so this made no sense to me whatsoever. I was going to Portugal and wanted to get a base tan anyway so I decided to take the opportunity. I had to pay a base membership fee and had to buy some suntan shit but thought it was worth it since I had all these free minutes. I went to two sessions and stopped since it became clear lying in a tube baking under artificial light was not working for me...that and the dry skin it caused made me feel like an itchy leper, dry humping anything I could use to scratch every part of me at the same time.

The good news was the prize was transferable so I was going to sell my leftover 184 minutes to a friend. I went in a few months later and my account was empty. Turns out it was my sister who had filled out the ballot. She'd used everyone's name she knew when she was filling them out in case her ballot was drawn twice, and when she discovered I had won she used all the remaining minutes. I can't blame her since it was technically her prize but once again winning something actually ended up costing me money. Great.

JACK-O-LANTERN: My Grade 4 class spent the day before Halloween carving a pumpkin. At the end of the day the teacher put our names in a hat and the lucky person picked would get to take the masterpiece home. I wanted it so bad since my parents never got a jack-o-lantern I thought it would be such an awesome surprise and then Ms. Bristow called the name--Congratulations Jamie! I was so excited, it was the first time I'd ever won anything in my life. I was so excited in fact that on the way home I got on the wrong school bus. There were all these unfamiliar faces but I didn't really notice until there were very few people on the bus and the truth dawned on me. Out of embarrassment I got off at some random stop and waited until the bus drove away before I started randomly walking around.

Picture a scrawny little 8 year old boy, velcro shoes, unmatching buttoned shirt collar sticking out from under his sweater carrying a behemoth pumpkin around in a Loblaws bag whose handles had ripped off. What was originally a fun prize I couldn't wait to being home became an unbearably heavy burden. As I walked up the streets not recognizing anything (I was a 25 minute walk from home but I was new to the neighborhood) I began to think I would never get home and no one would ever see the jack-o-lantern and it was too heavy to carry anymore so I did what any intrepid young boy would do: I started crying; openly and without shame. Luckily some high school girls found me sobbing and walked me all the way to my house. By the time I got there I hated that overgrown squash and lamented ever winning it in the first place.

So you see next time you proclaim, "I never win anything" remember, winning really isn't everything--often it leaves you empty or broke or alone on Guildwood Way holding a giant gourd.

Fierce!

2005-11-09T20:38:00.000-05:00

At www.telvisionwithoutpity.com (my website de jour) they recap episodes of TV shows with enough sarcasm to keep you neck-deep in snark for days. This always works best on reality shows because as we all know these people are "characters" and have no feelings, so ripping into them is jolly good fun. I was reading a recap of the America's Next Top Model recap episode (still with me?) and fell in love with the author because she broke into a fantasy sequence which is something I do a lot while watching reality TV, to the point I am pretty sure I have some attention deficit issues.

In the episode a small, seemingly retarded bird gets into the house. They name him Mr. Bojangles and a way-too-long sequence ensues of the girls chasing it around yelping and laughing and shouting like they just found a unicorn or a pot of gold. At one point someone inquires, "Maybe it wants to be America's Next Top Model". the recapper then imagines what the competition would be like if a sparrow was allowed to be a contestant:

Tyra: There are two lovely top model contenders in front of me, but I only hold one photo in my hands. One of the girls standing before me has all the potential in the world. She's beautiful, she's tall, she has the best body here. She impresses the judges week after week in person, but she can't translate that into fierce photos. The other one standing before me really cares about her physique. She hops around and eats only seed. She gives 100% and she can turn it out in a photo, but the judges aren't sure if the world is ready for a blind model who stands a mere three inches tall. But Mr. Bojangles, you get another chance to prove us wrong. Thanks, Kyle.

I was dying after reading this because my friend Sean and I do the same thing all the time--especially with America's Next Top Model. One of my favourites is when Jayla steals Nik's secret and uses it in her commercial. When one of the other models notices, the conversation goes like this:

Kyle: Wasn't that your..?
Nik: Yeah, whatever. That's just the kind of person she is.
Kyle: That wasn't cool
Nik: It's fine, it'll come back to her--Karma's a bitch.
*enter previously unseen model looking catty and filled with sass*
Karma: Fuck you! You don't fuckin' know me!
Nik: No Karma I was talking about Jayla.
Karma: Don't give me that shit I heard my name you slut-ass liar.
Nik: I meant karma as in the cosmic...
Karma: Say my name again and I'll cut you bitch.
Nik: Karma, you don't underst...
*Karma shanks Nik with a shiv hidden in her afro*

Something both Sean and I are always laughing about it is how hard the judges are on things the girls have no control over like lighting or unforseen elements in the photo:

Tyra: Let's see your best picture.
*picture is displayed and there is a huge bee on the model's face*
Tyra: I don't like this shot, you look really scared.
Nigel: I really don't like that bee thing you're doing with your nose.
Model: I'm not doing anything, it was an actual bee...maybe a wasp.
Tyra: That's the problem. I feel like the bee is wearing you instead of the other way around.
Model: Um...I'm actually really allergic to bee stings.
Tyra: You can't place the blame on the photographer, or the outfit or the bee.
Model: Last time I was stung my face broke out in these painful blisters.
Tyra: As a model it is your job to make that look fierce.
Model: I don't follow
Tyra: Fierce!
Model: That didn't make any sense.
Tyra: You're welcome

For an extra treat watch the opening credits of the current season (cycle 5). It features the girls turning towards the camera as their name flashes on the screen. Most of the girls have the standard model face: half asleep, half angry, but check out Sarah, she looks like Nosferatu. I swear her mouth looks like she's ready to drink plasma. If you see her fingers slowly clasp a wall before she enters a room, RUN LIKE HELL! Plus her shoulder blades are really huge so I'm pretty sure she's hiding bat wings under there.

Man it's easy to criticize people I'll never meet.

Lethal Combination

2005-11-05T12:50:00.000-05:00

On Thursday I took my friend Alan out for dinner for his birthday and decided to order the enchiladas. My history with Mexican food is not good. My friend Earl and I used to frequent "El Sombrero" relatively regularly. It was always tasty and the portions were huge but afterwards we each went our separate ways home. We knew better than to stray too far from a familiar facility that could *ahem* accommodate the aftermath. As a result we just didn't eat much Mexican anymore.

They say women forget the actual level of pain they experience during childbirth which enables them to want to give birth again, and I would say the same applies to me and Mexican food, but even more so, to me and uncooked baked goods. From the the tragic Pillsbury Cookie Dough incident of 2002 to the infamous Guelph "Brownie Batter Blizzard" debacle, I just don't learn my lesson. My body does not process these things well and the combination of stomach cramps and overwhelming desire to poo that lasts for hours is unpleasant to say the least. This Thursday I was introduced to Ben & Jerry's "Half-Baked" Ice Cream which has both cookie dough chunks and brownie pieces...and this was after having the enchiladas. Needless to say when all 3 of my food intolerances get together it's the frickin' chernobyl of the my gastrointestinal system.

I think Thursday's experience is best described as a comparative visual: Picture a long sturdy bridge stretching over a river. That bridge from one point to the other represents the journey of food through your system and the water is the chemicals involved in digestion. The cheese on the enchiladas turns the sturdy bridge into a rope bridge. The cookie dough makes that bridge swing and shake and slowly come undone at the edges and the enchiladas themselves turn that flowing river into raging rapids....of lava. Let's just say on Thursday the rope bridge did not hold and I was plunged into the river and each time I thought I could swim to shore I fell a little deeper and ohhhh... the burning.

So please, if you see me eating any of the aforementioned in the future, especially in combination, I am granting you permission to slap me or at the very least drive me to a Shopper's and mix me up a pepto smoothie because the call to go south of the border is my siren song and I am weak...so so weak.

WATN: Judy Winslow

2005-11-03T09:28:00.000-05:00

We all know the tragic tales of most child stars when we ask Where Are They Now? So and So checked into rehab when he was 13, whats-her-name got into a knife fight at a club and is now serving the last 2 of her 7 years. Though we occasionally hear about these cases, they for the most part end up becoming housewives, or taking everyday jobs or doing off-off Broadway productions and we never hear from them again. Then there are the unique cases of child stars who go and do something totally unexpected, or strange or just surprising, and those are the ones I will feature in my WATN blogs.

I was flipping through pages dedicated to sitcom stars from the 80's and early 90's and came across Jamiee Foxworth who played Judy Winslow on "Family Matters". I always wondered what happened to the character since it seemed she just disappeared or as IMDB.com puts it, "One day Judy went up the stairs and never returned". Apparently the show wanted to focus on her sister Laura and felt poor Jamiee was a distraction so she was unceremoniously excised from the show--no farewell, no goodbye, just a deletion.

As I scrolled through her other film and TV credits I noticed she was credited as "Crave" and not Jamiee Foxworth, and then I noticed the titles of some of her movies: "More Black Dirty Debutantes 32" and "Booty Talk 20: Superfine Sistas". That sucks. Not only did she end up resorting to porn but it's not even good high-budget stuff, it's one film in a series of many by the same name, so it's pretty much just skanky girls shkeezin' it up for the camera. She can't even deliver lines. Apparently she is retired now and has found Jesus or some shit but rumor has it she is still doing it on the side. I feel for you Jamiee and I'm not judging; if starring in the upcoming "Paradise Poon 23: Nubian Princess" gives you what you need, then I say Bravura!

Hallowe'en: Scary for All the Wrong Reasons

2005-11-02T12:07:00.000-05:00

This past Sunday was the first hallowe'en party I have been to since I think grade 10 or 11 and after that bucket of industrial-strength lame I kinda stopped doing stuff on hallowe'en, but I think the person who threw that party reads this blog, so it was awesome and I had a really good time. Sunday was a hoot and I was so happy to see that most people put boatloads of effort into their costumes and that everyone I knew who went dressed up. Though there were awards given I felt some catergories were overlooked:

Most Creepily Accurate:
Lou did an awesome job as Peewee Herman. He had the clothes, look and even the poses dead-on. It was more than a little spooky and I kind of expected Pterry the Pterodactyl to make an appearance and have Jambi grant some wishes. Mecka Lecka Hi Mecka Honny Ho!

Most Disturbing:
It wasn't that Earl was prancing around in a pink top and mini purse or that as you can see in this picture Dora the Explorer has a thing for Coors Light--it was the socks. Earl got the color right, but when he took off his shoes they were revealed to be Spongebob Squarepants toe socks...clearly manufactured for tiny feet. Earl wears like a size 14 shoe or something so Spongebob's face was stretched to the extreme...and did I mention they were toe socks. Earl's feet and his wiggling toes as Spongebob's terrified face looks like it's about to rip in half; that image will haunt my dreams.

Most Misunderstood:
I didn't catch his name but Sam's date (nice guy) had a cool costume he created by stitching together 2 looks: One was a business suit and tie, well groomed hair and nice shoe, the other was spiked hair a high school T-shirt and Jeans. I remarked that it was a very poignant costume that illustrated physically what the average twenty-something feels: torn between the safety and comfort of childhood and the fear and inevitability of our adult selves. He told me he was Jekyll & Hyde. My reaction: "Oh" and then I grabbed a Twix and walked away.

Best Couple:
I really couldn't pick. Rob and Mary (Rory?) were hilarious as Hal Johnson & Joanne McLeod. You can't tell from the picture but they had the "Participaction" logo and "Body Break" all over their track suits. It was brilliant. Brennifer worked really hard on their costumes and poor Jen was bummed when she didn't win an award for her Listerine ensemble which I thought was pretty kick-ass. So instead of a Value Village trophy for Track & Field achievement in the 1977 regionals, you get a shout out in my blog. That and a quarter will get you a phone call.

She is NOT Amused!

2005-11-01T17:07:00.000-05:00

My mother saw me laughing hysterically while I was watching SNL Weekend Update and asked what was so funny. I repeated the joke (losing most of the humor in the translation):

"A new poll indicates 66% of Americans believe Bush is doing a poor job. It should be noted the other 34% believe Adam & Eve rode dinosaurs to church".

My mom just sorta grimaced and walked away and now I understand why. She's always criticizing me for losing my faith: "If you don't believe in God, you are just like the animals" and has always wondered where I went astray and now she knew. The enemy was a glasses-wearing jezabel named Tina Fey. She also noticed (but I don't think understood) the joke where Tina Fey says, "Pope Benedict will be attending the premiere of the miniseries Pope starring John Voight in the title roll...this is because John Voight's daughter is Angelina Jolie, and even the Pope wants to tap that".

Add my laughing at catholic jokes to my long list of indiscretions: I never ate enough veggies, I sat way too close to the TV and she now knows I drink to get drunk--i'm afraid she'll disown me soon. I was going to go as a priest for halloween. I could have taken tons of pictures with Louroz and Peter who both went as Boy Scouts.....and then I could have packed my bags and started looking for an apartment.

Sit Bot-Bot Sit, Bad Dog

2005-10-27T10:12:00.000-04:00

Because the holiday season is quickly approaching I thought I would make a public service announcement: DO NOT buy the "RoboPet" (seen above) as a gift for anyone, unless that someone really loves shoddy robotics and impossibly frustrating crappiness. I was told it would only sell in Europe but then I saw the commercial on TV and knew it had invaded North America. I was a production assistant on the set of that very commercial this summer and my loathing for this toy runs deeper than my loathing for children aged 2-18.

The shoot was supposed to be about 12 hours which is long in itself but ended up being 17 hours due in large part to the fact the RoboPet is an electronic pile of feces. The commercial featured both this robotic dog and a real life dog which should have been my first clue things were not meant to go smoothly: working with both an animal and a temperamental robot--awesome! The commercial had about 24 shots that needed to be captured. One of those shots included the dog running up to the counter where the RoboPet then stands on it's hind legs and barks. This one shot took over 3 hours to get! It was hard enough to get the dog to run down the stairs and stand on its mark but then then fuckin' RoboPet would just do whatever the hell it wanted:

Director: Action
*dog runs down the stairs*
Director: Cue the Robot
*RoboPet sorta gets up and then falls into bowl of apples*
Director: CUT! Fuck, Shit, Balls, Fuck!

Almost every shot was equally frustrating. At one point I was no longer "Jamie" or "the production assistant" I was "The Wrangler". RoboPet would be sent into the shot and inevitably walk the wrong way, or fall on his side, or some other random tomfoolery; I was under the counter ready to put him back on his mark--and there I stayed for an obscene amount of time. The worst was the shot that was supposed to illustrate that RoboPet was smart enough to know his surroundings. The kid who stars in the commercial walks away to take a call but leaves RoboPet on. Ideally RoboPet walks to the edge of the counter, sees he is about to fall off, and then takes a few steps back. About half the time he wouldn't walk to the edge at all and just sorta do his own thing instead; the other half of the time he would walk right off the edge and hit the tile floor nice and hard. "Can the Wrangler please get another stupid robot". And so I would run up the stairs to the bedroom where an army of them waited on the floor. It was like a scene from I Robot if the robots in that were smaller and embedded with a mental retardation chip.

The controls were impossible; I mean, just look at the converter they give you, it's just a random collection of buttons. "To make him bark press arrow, arrow, triangle, square, down, upper right circle" Who the hell designed this? To add to the frustration was the fact that the actor who was playing a 14 year old was actually 18 and was growing facial hair like a fuckin' werewolf so Carrie the makeup artist had to constantly powder him up and shave him on 3 separate occasions. We kept thinking the continuity of the commercial would be a mess since the scenes are not shot in order. He goes from clean shaven, to a hillbilly beard, to a five o'clock shadow to a handlebar mustache all in the course of 40 seconds.

But I'm getting off-topic from the primary message: The RoboPet is a disaster. Take the money you were gonna spend on it and buy yourself some booze, then stumble around and if possible topple into a bowl of produce--that way you can experience what it's like to be a RoboPet first hand.

When Bohemian = Bag Lady

2005-10-25T10:06:00.000-04:00

I don't know if it is because I spend way too much time on www.gofugyourself.com but I was walking around Square One on my lunch and there are two very disturbing fashion trends that I think we need to stop right now.

First and foremost is the bohemian look where people layer clothes for the hell of it. This had it's roots back when people wore a skirt over a pair of jeans (PICK ONE!) but now has blossomed into a full-on everywhere you look trend. It must be said: It makes you look like shit. It's like a Value Village discount bin exploded and someone looked down and thought, "yeah, two scarves over a shawl over a cape is awesome". It doesn't even matter if it's high-end clothing, when it is layered without thought it makes you look like a homeless superhero. The worst part is that it was a style made popular by Mary-Kate Olsen. Don't get me wrong I love the Olsen twins and would slit any of your throats to have their media power but when the world is taking fashion cues from Michelle Tanner, I think we need to take a collective step back.

Secondly and most dangerous when combined with the above look is tucking your pants into your boots. There is one reason and one reason only this is EVER acceptable: you are 6 years old and putting on your goloshes to walk to school in the snow and don't want to get your pants wet. If you are a grown woman and trying to pull this off, rest assured it looks like you are either on lunch recess and itching to slide down the hill, or an extra in a Poison video.

The Mamas Not The Papas

2005-10-21T14:20:00.000-04:00

Years ago, in one of my entrepreneurial moods I thought of compiling a CD that featured songs about mothers and another with songs about fathers. It could be sentimental and make the perfect Mother's/Father's Day gifts. I was a genius! I began brainstorming songs about mothers: Good Mother by Jann Arden is great because it talks about becoming who you are because of your mom. Spice Girls' Mama and Boys II Men "A Song for Mama" were all about being grateful for what mom had done for you, and Kate Bush's Mother Stands for Comfort is all about how moms are our anchors and protectors. This was awesome, now I just had to start planning for the father's compilation...this is where I ran into trouble.

There are no good songs about fathers. In fact, the few that exist are quite negative. Oh Father by Madonna is all about her mixed feelings toward the dad that beat her as a child. Daddy by Jewel is about her emotionally abusive father who cheated on her mom. It goes on like this. I was pretty much ready to scrap the whole plan when the first glimmer of hope shone on me:
Father Figure by George Michael! It was perfect I thought:

I will be your father figure
Put your tiny hand in mine.
I will be your preacher, teacher
anything you have in mind.
I will be the one who loves you
'til the end of time.

Touching. Sweet. It was the perfect song to start the CD. With hope renewed I began brainstorming again while listening to the rest of the song. I'll admit the line, "If you ever hunger, hunger for me" seemed somewhat out of place at the time, but I wrote it off as a metaphor for nurturing or something. Then he has that line where he sings. "That's all I wanted, but sometimes love can be mistaken... for a crime". Okay that sorta sounded like the confessions of a child molester but I'm gonna go ahead and assume you meant you love someone so much it's almost criminal...not that said love is actually a punishable offense. Then came the clincher: "Just for one moment, to be warm and naked...at your side". Now it's clear; either George Michael isn't singing about parenthood or there are some traumatized kids out there who have a relapse every time Faith comes on.

Am I seriously the only person who never knew the song was about sex? Why would he include that "put your tiny hand in mine" part then? Did he just like 'em with exceptionally small hands? Did he like them younger? Oh eww, now I have a mental picture of George Michael trying out the whole "who's your daddy" role and once again I am skeeved out. This is what I get for trying to be industrious.

Farty Isabelle!

2005-10-20T12:36:00.000-04:00

You know how there are certain names that get tied to a personality trait for one reason or another and then become a euphemism for somebody. You know like guy who won't stop talking to you in line even though you're clearly not interested can be a talkative douchebag or a "Chatty Cathy". Some have historical or biblical significance like "Doubting Thomas". Some have pop culture links like "Debbie Downer" and some from what I gather are just random: like "Lazy Susan" "Bitter Betty" or "Slutty Leslie"...that's right, I'm looking at you Les!

Sure I made that last one up but new terms have to be coined by someone right? The other day I made one up that I want to see become a regular part of the North American vernacular. As anyone who knows me is aware I am a gassy mother, which is a direct result of my losing battle between my love of cheese and my lactose intolerance. On a particularly toot-filled afternoon I declared, "Aren't I a Farty Isabelle?". As soon as it came out of my mouth I knew I wanted this to take-off.

I have tried inventing language in the past with little success. Back in grade school I tried to invent something that could be said when someone has a coughing fit. Sneezers get a "God bless you" or "Gesundheit!" while the poor person hacking their lungs out gets a tepid, "you okay" or "you should drink something" while wiping away cough-tears. From this, "Kopstoffing" was born. I though it was genius, taking the first letters of "stop" and "coughing" and switching them. It sounded quasi-German and I felt it filled a very needed niche in most people's vocabulary; but alas, the needed support from my friend base (who incidentally suck) was lacking, and so much like my ability to feel compassion, it faded away.

I want "Farty Isabelle" to succeed if only because the idea of someone named Isabelle looking regal and letting one rip gives me a chuckle. In fact, I encourage everyone to make up their own. It's easy: take an adjective, pick a name that works well with it and use it as frequently and inappropriately as possible. Every personality trait should have a namesake from Surly Sandra to Socially Awkward Anna. Share them, trade them like pogs and drop them whenever you can. Do it for me, do it for fun, do it for "Kopstoffing" and all that lost potential.

Addiction & Revulsion

2005-10-18T12:54:00.000-04:00

I watch an obscene amount of television. I can try to deny it but the fact I have gotten into the habit of watching 2 shows at once and watching a previously recorded show when they are both in commercials speaks for itself. Instead of reeling in shame at my TV addiction and utter lack of a normal social life, I am embracing it. I watch shitloads of television, and I love it. I love TV more than movies, more than reading and more than you. That's right I said it. Things have been strained between us lately so don't act like you didn't see this coming.

I used to avoid shows I haven't watched from the beginning. Since I missed the boat on 24, Alias and Prison Break I wouldn't give them a chance. Not so anymore as I have recently added Grey's Anatomy, What I Like About You and My Name is Earl into the ole viewing schedule.
I also used to avoid shows I knew would be cancelled due to their utter awfulness and would be utterly heartbroken if something I loved was cancelled: (Birds of Prey we hardly knew ye). That too is a thing of the past as I am one of only 7 people alive who watches Out of Practice. The writing is usually terrible and the characters are completely one-dimensional but every so often they hit it out of the park, like when Oliver sees his newly-single brother buy a comic book and remarks: "If a girl sees that on your coffee table you might as well lay out a copy of Cat Fancy magazine and a bloody clown suit". This for reasons beyond my understanding sent me into hysterics.

On a side note, I would like to add a category to the previous Clio Awards post: Most Creepy. Have you seen the one where a mom is driving her daughter somewhere and the daughter asks her if she is still seeing some guy, to which the mom says yes. The daughter then asks her, "How is he?". The mom innocently enough says he's doing well or something and then the daughter says, "No mom, How is he?". The mom realizes the daughter (who looks 16) is talking about sex and they have a good chuckle, driving off in their new corrola, or camry or volkswagen or whatever car is trying to appeal to the "new family", I couldn't really tell since I was way too skeeved out to notice. What the fuck? Who asks their mom how her sex life is going? Yeah they giggle and drive off, but in real life what is she supposed to say? Oh yeah, for sure. Seriously, his tongue is like a cake mixer. I swear honey no one including your father has ever made me cum that hard". You're 16 you perv! Go play with your Rainbow Brite or put up some JTT posters or something.

Robotic, Robotic, Put Your Hands All Over My Body

2005-10-15T02:59:00.000-04:00

I don't know why i was thinking about it but I was pondering the future and the wonders and horrors of technology that await us. I was thinking of Artificial Inteligence and how one day robots will be as commonplace as refrigerators or cars. If science fiction has taught us anything it is that the age of rocketpacks and the colonization of Uranus are just around the bend. Another thing science fiction has taught us is that once the more crude models are out of the way robots will grow to serve their one primary function--to sex up the fleshies.

From Austin Powers to Serenity, to the Outer Limits to A.I., we can count on the fact that decades of research and ingenuity will eventually create a robot so advanced it will be able to help mankind in ways previously unimagined; not by combatting disease or working the dangerous jobs no living person should do, but by serving us a mojito before our regular 4 p.m. handjob or taking the form of a certain someone who walks by your desk exactly twice a day somehow looking sexier each time especially when they wore that white top that was tighter than it should have been for "business casual". We can lie to ourselves and say it's not a priority--that the study and advancement of robotics has a more relevant purpose but I'd like to state for the record here in 2005 that I saw it coming.

Think of it this way, you're a socially inept nerd incapable of normal human interaction. You spend most of your young life toiling away in mechanical engineering and computer science. After years of research and experimentation you realize you can create a robot that can sort and condense thousands of tons of garbage, a robot that can withstand extreme heat, cold, depth and radiation. or a robot that answers your front door in nothing but a sports jersey (applies to all sexes and sexualities) with a roast in the oven and a program that sees you not as the chunky social malcontent with patches of itchy skin that you are, but the primary target of sex functions 1 through 788 that they've been programmed to perform. Which of these three robots do you think will get the most attention?

I for one welcome this bold new future with open arms and an open zipper.

Clio Awards

2005-10-12T12:35:00.000-04:00

I used to love the Clio Awards when they were on TV. To this day it's still the only awards show I have ever sat through completely. I loved seeing the commercials from around the world usually too racy or confusing for a North American audience. It's all well and good to recognize excellence in music, film and television but a good commercial will stay with you forever: "Back Off! Get Your Own Sandwich" has become this generation's "Where's the Beef?" Seriously, ask around--everyone remembers that commercial. I thought I would recognize achievement in today's commercials in the categories of most touching, scary, cute, and funny:

MOST TOUCHING
Sick Kids Hospital

The commercial where everyone from patients to lab technicians to doctors sing an oddly sad sounding version of "Lean on Me". The end clip is a little girl singing the final words of the song, "somebody to lean on" before someone applies a gas mask and she closes her eyes...and then the slogan, "They Need Us, and We Need You". How can you not want to give? If I wasn't in training to become a hateful old miser I would cash out my bank accounts and whore myself for any spare change I could donate. *sniff* little troopers *sniff*

MOST SCARY
Dairy Farmers of Canada

First it was the "Want Milk" rap video which was strange enough but then comes the new one where these 2 parents are re-decorating their son's bedroom and throwing out all his shit. Next scene he's eating dinner with them and complimenting them on his new decor. Then out of nowhere this crazy old lady bangs on the window with her crutch and in the most shrill aged voice possible she angrily exclaims, "Want your kids to move out, stop cooking with cheese!" What the fuck? I'm all for randomness but this is just odd and the suddenness of her appearance and the fact she's watching them through the window really freaked me out the first time I watched this commercial. Am I alone on this? Plus she reminds me of this sick woman I had to sit with every time I went to the orthodontist...long story.

MOST CUTE
Robin Hood Flour

I don't know if it's CGI or stop motion or what, but that commercial where the little boy is making muffins with his sister and at the end he fumbles the one in his hand and it falls on the floor making his lip quiver and eyes well up. Cue the audience: "awwwwww". I certainly don't want to buy flour after watching this commercial but I do feel like eating muffins, or a wedding cake or a bacon mushroom melt...

MOST FUNNY
Sexual Health

For some reason not many people have caught this commercial. Soft music, soft lights; The narrator is overseeing a romantic scene of a woman giving a present to a man; the background fades and the furniture changes as do the man's clothes and now he is giving the same present to a new woman. We're thinking, wow what a lame ass recycling an ex's gift and the narrator tells us "after being intimate with a partner you may inadvertently be passing something on to your next partner". She opens the gift and it's a big perfume bottle labeled, Genital Herpes. I swear to god I shit myself laughing when I first saw this commercial. It wasn't just the surprise of what was in the box but the second woman's face--it's frickin' priceless. It's this classic mix of confusion and disappointment more suited to the guy who gets you socks then the one who gives you vaginal sores.

The one thing I can say to food commercial writers is try and make the food desirable. Remember the Pizza Pops commercials where a pizza pop would explode and someone would invariably end up licking the remains off of a window or the floor or a dog's ass. How is this appetizing? The same can be said about a radio commercial I heard for Harvey's just recently where the announcer is talking about a juicy angus burger and proceeds to eat one and talk with his mouth full while he is chewing. I swear I got physically nauseous. What kind of ad for food tries to make you nauseous!? You don't need Paris Hilton masturbating at a car wash or Eva Longoria....um...masturbating with a pepsi, just make the food tasty, and when in doubt dip it in chocolate, cover it in cheese or wrap it in bacon. I challenge you to think of something that can't be made better that way.

Know Your Limit, Fly Above It

2005-10-09T21:34:00.000-04:00

This may as well be a portrait of me Saturday night slash Sunday morning instead of an Anne Geddes picture gone horribly awry. That is to say it would be a picture of me if I was Asian...and an infant...in a bumblebee costume. My memories of that night are pretty hazy so I may very well have been in a bee outfit, I mean I bought it for a reason right? Why not show it off at the clubs?

After bouncing between going out and not going out at least 6 or 7 times (no exaggeration), Crystal, Sean, Jay and myself got our asses downtown for a night of debauchery and alcohol-fuelled mood swings. We met up with Louroz who introduced us to his friends who were pretty much fitness models born to make me feel as unattractive as humanly possible. Not that they did it on purpose because they appeared to be one of those freakish anomalies--really attractive people who are genuinely nice too. The kicker was that they were together for almost 4 years. Be good looking, be nice, but at least have the decency to be a slutty wreck incapable of holding down a relationship between latenight tricks and alleyway coke binges. The fact we were with Mr. and Mr. Smith combined with the fact I cannot dance if my veins aren't coursing with tequila meant I started drinking right away. Jay had all of two shots before he was high as a kite. I of course was green with envy that he got drunk so fast; enter the sambuca portion of the evening. This game of catchup inevitably caught up with me and I don't remember anything in the latter part of the night.

Except puking. I remember being in Crystal's car and filling one of those HMV bags pretty much to capacity.....and then filling another one. I was such a mess and the only two thoughts in my head were "I'm so embarrassed" and "That smell in Earl's car was definitely puke". The feeling of embarrassment was compounded when I realized I had missed the bag slightly on one occasion and a bit had landed in Crystal's car. Correction: a bit had landed in Crystal's Mom's car. With multiple mea culpas and a sense of shame similar to a virgin's after prom night, I stumbled home.

My mom says she heard me come in around 4. The thing is when I looked at my phone it said it was 6:30. It didn't dawn on me until the next day but I must have passed out in the laundry room while getting my pajamas--perhaps on the floor, perhaps nestled between the washer and dryer, I guess I'll never know. There was no way I was going to sleep without harfing out that last bit of booze so in the washroom I did my best to coax it to the surface. It is then I realized I have a very temperamental gag reflex. When I am brushing my tongue or the doctor puts a depressor in my mouth I am always ready to heave, but when I am hunched over my bathroom sink with my fingers so far down my throat I can feel my heart beat, I get nothing--go figure.

I fell into a deep slumber awoken around noon by an insatiable need for orange pop. And so I drank said orange pop, immediately threw said orange pop back up, lamented my existence, openly wept over the toilet, then headed back to bed. I was awoken at 6:00 p.m. by a phone call. 6 in the frickin' evening! Good thing, as my parents came home at around 6:20 and were curious as to why I was still in pajamas. My mom being the Nancy Drew she is figured it all out right away. My dad who absolutely abhors drunks was not pleased to say the least, and so at 7:00 p.m. I started on my chores that had been neglected through my day of sleep. I scrubbed harder and cleaned more thoroughly than I ever have. A potent mix of Portuguese and Catholic guilt, I was high on humiliation and chemically dependent on Clorox, Vim and Windex to wipe it all away.

Degrassi Then & Now

2005-10-06T15:22:00.000-04:00

The clothes may be more modern and the cast may be a helluva lot more attractive (remember Claude--he was like a dorkier, even uglier Kevin Federline with a small ponytail; I was kinda glad the character killed himself--sometimes suicide may be the way) but Degrassi of old and Degrassi next generation are remarkably similar. Social issues are once again addressed: abortion, rape, drugs, etc. Even the adult cast is the same: Spike, Joey Jeremiah, Mr. Radditch. The parallels are quite funny as most old cast members seem to have modern equivalents: Wheels and his bad-boy streak is modernized by Spinner...hey I just realized, Wheels/Spinner, coincidence? BLT and Jimmy, the athletic black dudes with very little storyline. Stephanie Kaye and Paige getting wasted and being tragic.

The similarities are all over the place. The funny part is Beverly Hills 90210 was supposed to be the American version of the show, hence those "very special" episodes. But I'd take being the daughter of a rich slutty cokehead in Belair over the son of a poor drunken Zellers employee in the Dufferin Mall area any day.

Aside from being much prettier the main difference in the two Degrassis is the endings. Modern Degrassi usually ends with an obvious lesson, like it doesn't trust the audience to get to the moral by itself. Old Degrassi was awesome in that the episode ended on such a random note. You absolutely never saw it coming. Heather (or was it Erica?) has an abortion and is back home dealing with the aftermath of her choice. Her mom walks into the room and asks "Honey, did you want to go for Mexican tonight?" Erica (or was it Heather?) looks sad and concerned....and freeze, roll credits. That's how it should be done. Just like life; random and mundane.

My favourite TV debates revolve around who was the most tragic character. People inevitably choose Wheels (parents died, car accident, etc.) or Kathleen (boyfriend smacked her around) or Caitlin (she had hilariously bad-acted seizures and had her BF blew his brains out) but no one got the shitstorm worse than...

LUCY
This girl just had a non-stop streak of bad luck. Molested by her teacher, not taken seriously by her peers for the masterpiece It Creeps!, arrested for shoplifting, neglected by her mother, her best friend dies--what hasn't this girl endured. Her hair alone was a tragedy worth mentioning and in the Degrassi movie which is supposed to be a farewell to the characters, she is in the car accident with drunken asshole Wheels and manages to go blind as a result. (Though it should be noted she has resurfaced in the new Degrassi with full vision) All a dream syndrome?

And to be the new Lucy the Degrassi 2 has given us...

MANNY
Following in Lucy's footsteps Manny has managed to get an abortion, be labeled the school slut, have a video of her flashing her boobs sent to everyone at Degrassi, get kicked out of her house and more. Like it wasn't hard enough being the Spanish daughter of clearly Filipino actors, one of which looks maybe 6 or 7 years older than her. Though Manny has stiff competition from date-raped Paige, crippled in a gun-fight Jimmy and I cut myself cuz my mom drinks Ellie, I think an arrest or possibly a meth addiction will put her right over the top.
I'm rootin' for ya!

Chocolate Existentialism

2005-10-03T19:50:00.000-04:00

Today was just one of those days where you step back, take into account everything you are and think, "Good God, I have wasted my life". I have friends who are teaching overseas, starting companies--hell, starting families and here I am stuck in neutral. I always talk myself down from these ledges of self-deprication but today it was just a little bit harder. My usual cliche parade in the vein of "Not everyone can be in the parade Jamie, some of us have to applaud as it makes its way down the road" wasn't enough. Even the guilt-trip of "You have a job, a roof over your head, family, friends..etc. so what are you bitching about?" wasn't cutting it. Because in the end life has turned out to be the test I tell everyone I think I failed.

When asked how I did after an exam, or how well I think I did on a paper I would always respond with a false sense of self-degredation. Even if I thought I rocked the shit out of a comparative essay and my Prof would be a fool to give me anything but an A, I would always use words like "okay" or "rush-job" or "thrown together" so if the results were not what I'd hoped I could always claim I saw it coming, even if inside I was terribly dissapointed. Life, or how I saw life today, was that paper coming back with a "Low D - see me after class". Because regardless of how much I feigned not caring or not really being engaged in it, it hurts to be told what you have created isn't particularly special, and today I realized that in many ways, I am not special, and that realization can be very saddening.

I wallowed in my pity party for one for most of the day until I bought a "Cadbury Fruit & Nut" on my break. I have been told it is old man chocolate and Earl mocks me every time I buy it but today it made things seem better somehow. It could have been the endorphins released by all that wonderful caffeine or the fact I mentally equate chocolate with childhood but by the time I had finished things didn't seem as bad: I work with people I really like. I can always rely on friends to make fun of me for loving old man snacks. I am healthy; albeit a bit on the chunky side, but healthy none-the-less. I have a whole bunch of years ahead of me, and in them I can see the world, I can go furniture shopping, I can be in a pie-eating contest, go scuba-diving, sleep-in on countless Sundays, meet new people, eat more chocolate. Life ain't so bad. I may not be doing anything all that special, but my collection of everyday stuff is pretty good so far. It's not like we can all be in the parade, some of us have to applaud as it makes its way down the road.

VJ vs. PJ: Indian Beauties

2005-09-30T12:16:00.000-04:00

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

2005-09-29T18:27:00.000-04:00

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

2005-09-28T09:51:00.000-04:00

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

2005-09-27T09:47:00.000-04:00

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

2005-09-23T14:35:00.000-04:00

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

2005-09-22T11:45:00.000-04:00

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?

2005-09-21T14:24:00.000-04:00

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

2005-09-19T20:19:00.000-04:00

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

2005-09-16T09:06:00.000-04:00

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

2005-09-15T09:00:00.000-04:00

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?

2005-09-14T10:33:00.000-04:00

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

2005-09-13T11:38:00.000-04:00

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

2005-09-02T12:11:00.000-04:00

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.

Too Awesome to Last

2005-08-29T10:10:00.000-04:00

I found my copy of this album on the weekend and I'm gonna go ahead and say it: Ace of Base were and in many ways still are the greatest band of all time. Now before you get all high and mighty and pretend you don't recall rockin' out to The Sign in your car, step back and think about it for a second. Ace of Base were one of the only dance acts to successfully insert that random "we're giving the guy a chance to sing/rap in the middle of the song bit" in any of their songs. Par example in Don't Turn Around:

As he walks away he feels the pain getting strong
People in your life they don't know what's going on
Too proud to turn around he's gone....gone..

....Simply haunting.

They were crazy big in Europe when I was a kid and I remember being at a club called "The Whale" (those wacky Portuguese) and people fuckin' going ape shit over All That She Wants. Personally I didn't get the song--never quite sure why the typical guy would be pissed that some girl just wants him for sex and then plans to be "gone tomorrow". Isn't that like the hetero fantasy? But I digress, as the dance remix of the song was pretty much all anyone listened to at the time and no one at "The Whale" knew what the fuck was being said anyway.

Then comes The Sign which is arguably their most well-known song. She saw the sign she sings, and it opened up her eyes she saw the sign and she is happy now living without you, she left you Oh Oh Oh! What was this sign? What did it teach her? Not only were their lyrics touching and relatable but also mysteriously enigmatic.

Ulf, Jonas, Jenny & Malin, Today I salute you and anxiously await your 4th release.

Of Slurpees & Skeevies

2005-08-27T02:15:00.000-04:00

Dear girls who approached Earl and I outside the 7-Eleven on Battleford while we were just enjoying our so-good-but-so-damn-sickening slurpees. When you asked us where we lived and I said east of here I thought I was throwing you off, but unfortunately east is where you needed to go. Now from here I made some bullshit excuse about going to our friend's house while Earl sucked away on his drink too afraid to speak.

The truth is we were going back east, most likely to the exact area you needed to go, but unfortunately you totally skeeved us out. It's weird enough to drive strangers anywhere but throw in the fact it's 2 a.m. and one of you certainly has some form of facial scabies we couldn't get out of there fast enough. Now you may not have been the venereal disease infested, shiv-hiding crack-hos we made you out to be, but you creeped us out none the less. Here's hoping you got home okay and no innocents needed to be stabbed with a spoon you sharpened in the bathroom at the Wendy's across the street.

With Regards,
Jamie

Kabbalah vs. Scientology

2005-08-24T11:58:00.000-04:00

Inspired by both my curiosity of alternate religions and the slew of celebrities so bloated in their self-importance they think they have hit the "one true faith" nail on the head I have been reading up on Kabbalah and Scientology; because if there is someone out there whose advice I trust to lead the lost sheep to trascendence it's Madonna and Tom Cruise.

KABBALAH:
I have been on their website for damn near an hour now and the best thing I can compare it to would be shopping in a store where the staff all work on commission but no one knows the products at all:

Customer: Hi I was looking to see if you knew where we come from and what our purpose on Earth is?
Kabballah Associate: Those questions can be found in our courses starting at $19.99
Customer: Oh my bad I don't have that much on me, I didn't think I would have to pay for enlightenment.
Kabbalah Associate: Oh, well for a smaller donation you can have this red bracelet that is specially created to ward off the evil eye.
Customer: By "specially created" do you mean mass produced at a sock factory in Laos?
Kabbalah Associate: .....yes

Much like the Simpsons' Movementarians or those late-night buy & sell infomercial schemes, er.. ventures, they make a lot of awesome promises: "Imagine if there was a miraculous source of power so profound, so powerful, it could totally heal and transform your life and genuinely change our world for the good - forever!" Holy Shit that sounds awesome! Tell me more! Kabbalah reveals all the spiritual and physical laws that govern the cosmos and the human soul. It answers questions. It provides solutions. It unravels puzzles. It deciphers codes. Awesome, I am totally up for some code deciphering, or as the brilliant Jason Mulgrew stated: "Kabbalah is so wonderful that it is like bowling a 300 game, meeting Jesus Christ, winning the lottery, and receiving oral sex from the entire female cast of 'Baywatch' rolled into one, and extended forever throughout time and space until the end of time and beyond and into infinite space forever."

Vague promises, marketing tie-ins, and the fact that it's Jewish mysticism minus all the, you know, Jewish stuff makes this the best pseudo-faith ever. Pass the Kool-Aid!

SCIENTOLOGY:
I wanted to keep an open mind, I really did; but this --> is based on one of L. Ron Hubbard's texts. The man who promises Scientology can bring about positive changes in states of health, ability and intelligence is also the author of Battlefield Earth. But I wanted to be fair, Scientology must be comprised of something beyond cheesy sci-fi and Cruise's couch-jumping fanaticism right? Well if it is they certainly don't make it easy to figure out.

Much like Kabbalah the actual basis and purpose of the faith is shrouded in mystery. Wait, scratch that, not so much shrouded in mystery as shrouded in answers that can be accessed with a valid credit card number and/or PayPal account. If your way of life is truly as kick-ass as you make it out to be, why the hell is it so hard to get some free, official information. The Church of Scientology's wesbite declares, "The Scientology religion is about the individual man or woman. Its goal is to bring an individual to a sufficient understanding of himself and his life and free him to make improvements where he finds them necessary and in the ways he sees fit." What the hell does that even mean? Any time you click on anything to learn more you are presented the awesome opportunity to order some of their "suggested reading".

Fine, don't tell us. As long as Tom Cruise is telling women that post-partum depression is treatable with simple vitamins (thanks Tommy, It's good to hear from someone who knows), and John Travolta is blasting through space with his white man dreds I think the majority of the population will see you for what you are. I mean sure, many of us take marital advice from a man who's not only barred from marriage but from any sexual thought at all, and follow a church that decrees the poor and meak are God's chosen people from their pedestals of marble and gold, but if I want to know the jist of Christianity I can attend a public service, reach for the drawer in my hotel room or drive through the vast majority of the Southern United States, and I assure you, I will find more than enough people to tell me.

Bitter Betty's Quote-fest

2005-08-23T14:39:00.000-04:00

"The plutonic relationship is a lukewarm, sexless waiting room where you sit in an uncomfortable chair, leaf through the same dog-eared copy of People over and over again with the knowledge that your name will never be called." -- F. Tanner Colby.

"Love is like an hourglass, with the heart filling up as the brain empties." -- Jules Renard

"Love is a snowmobile racing across the tundra and then suddenly it flips over, pinning you underneath. At night, the ice weasels come." -- from Love is Hell by Matt Groening

Samantha: How do we know when we fall in love?
Ms.Krabappel: Oh, don't you worry. Most of you will never fall in love and marry out of fear of dying alone. *chuckles*

"Nature plays human beings a scurvy trick in allowing a blind instinct to mature before thought and insight are sufficiently developed to act as a check." -- from Fruits of the Earth by Frederick Grove

Carrie: People go to casinos for the same reason they go on blind dates: hoping to hit the jackpot. But mostly, you just wind up broke or alone in a bar. -- from Sex & The City

Hypothesis Proven!

2005-08-23T10:54:00.000-04:00

I have composed and performed a very scientific study analysing the profound and biologically inherent differences between men and women and have had my theory substantiated:

Women are Totally Rude-Ass

For the past 6 weeks or so I have been keeping a tally of every time a door is held open for me vs. every time a door should have been held open for me and the results ladies and gentleman are staggering:

Number of Times a man should have held the door for me:
61
Number of Times said man actually did:
50
Ergo Men held the door
82% of the time

Number of Times a woman should have held the door for me:
68
Number of Times said woman actually did:
47
Ergo Women held the door
69% of the time

I am not one to assign gender assumptions on anyone but what's the deal ladies? Not only are you less likely to hold a door open but according to this air-tight research you are also the most likely to snake through a door as it's closing even if you notice someone behind you. You are less likely to hold elevator doors open, more likely to take an elevator for a single flight of stairs and this one was a shocker; slightly less likely to say Thank You. I've always considered you the superior gender ladies so lets get crackin' on some courtesy. No one is asking for a curtsy as you avert your eyes as someone passes through your opened door, but a simple bump and even a forced half-smile is all I ask.

(all statistics compliled are the anger-ridden findings of Jamie, often on a morning he is late, often holding his bag, a McMuffin, a stack of files and his contempt for life in general.)

Lyrical Improvements : Kelis

2005-08-22T11:49:00.000-04:00

from the mind of my friend Sean:

My Milkshake brings all the boys to the yard
and they're like
It's better than yours
damn right
It's better than yours,
I could teach you
but I have two jobs
and I don't have time.

Is Rubber the New Gold?

2005-08-16T10:34:00.000-04:00

These things are out of control! What started as a cool fundraiser for a worthy cause is becoming a ridiculous tickle-me-elmo like craze. Good lord there is a colour for everything: "Oh, this orange and pink polka dot one is for feline AIDS: it's the number one killer of domestic cats; and this purple and gold one represents my support of equal rights for albino midgets and this cool shimmery one I got in a 2-4 of Heineken...I think it means I like Heineken".

If you want to support a charity or raise awareness of a cause then tell people about it, walk in a fundraiser or volunteer some time or money; donning a piece of rubber that chafes your wrist is a great first step but corporations are catching wise and promotional swag looking just like these is on its way. So like the bangles and the snap bracelets before them, let us put them away...next to the pogs, butterfly clips and our CD single of Snow's "Informer".

Super-Mega Lightning Shield Activate!

2005-08-02T14:20:00.000-04:00

If lightning had struck your home, what would your first course of action be? If you were a certain resident you would ask, nay demand the City take responsibility for the well-being of its citizens and make sure they are protected. Well luckily the 2005 budget has approved the "Anti-Lightning" initiative which includes sending each and every resident his or her own magic contra-bolt boots and a single pill which absorbs any and all foreign electricity in the body. People may try and tell you you're just wearing galoshes and eating a SweetTart but they just wish they're family was as safe as yours. The tangy taste in the centre means it's working.

For the Kids?

2005-07-22T10:18:00.000-04:00

Honestly, why must every event description I post end with "and face painting for the kids"? Do children even like face painting? It seems so obligatory at these wholesome family events: pony rides, hot dogs, Hillary Duff impersonator and face painting for the kids! But it's not limited to just that, it's everywhere: Goth Bachanal tonight at the Havenwood cemetery. Events include ceremonial slaying of 3 virgins, drinking from the chalice of sorrow, performance by Countess Cobwella and face painting for the kids! It's not a good idea because it's rarely done well and it's actually sorta dirty. (see examples below)

This is an awesome job clearly done by a professional. The kid is having fun and look at him - he's frickin' adorable. Alas professional face painters are not usually on site and the duty is instead taken up by some kind of volunteer, which brings us to...

What is most common: This girl looks like a cross between a greased up mechanic and someone with 3 zits that simultaneously popped on her face. For her trouble she will look like a complete tool and most likely develop a case of whisker-shaped eczema since that same brush was used on like 40 kids before her and lord knows where their faces have been.

An Open Letter

2005-07-21T10:08:00.000-04:00

Dear SUV Driver

We haven't met before but I was the guy behind you in the City Hall parking lot. Kudos on mastering that 8 point turn by the way. I met one of your colleagues on the way out that very same day. They'd tinted their windows all around--illegal, sure but nothing says "King of the Road" like literally eclipsing the competition. Who needs to see oncoming traffic anyway? I must've made a good impression because on the way home I had one of you follow me so closely our cars were practically kissing. Thank goodness I didn't have to brake suddenly or we would have become a lot closer a little too quickly--and I dont move that fast on a first date.

As I pulled in to get gas I had the pleasure of witnessing yet another one of your family do some pretty fancy driving to skip the whole "waiting your turn part"--fancy stuff I tell ya, he just came outta nowhere! Impressive to say the least. I understood that he needed to get there first; afterall he needs about 8 times the fuel to tame these wild suburban streets--what with their unassuming smoothness and complex simple grid navigation.

So I just thought I'd introduce myself.

I'm Jamie,
and you're an asshole.

Kaiceey or Kahlua?

2005-07-20T16:01:00.000-04:00

Maya Rudolph as Tyra Banks:
(to ANTM hopeful Kahlua):
I feel you are relying too much on your hair. This is not America's Next Top Hair Model; that's my other show and it's on right after this.

Scroll at bottom of screen:
UPN: Up Next "America's Next Top Hair Model"

Tina Fey as Janice Dickinson:
Oh Please, sex is a part of this business OKAY. I mean I had to sleep with Meatloaf alright, and that was just to get a ride here today.

Online Dating Decoded

2005-07-20T10:45:00.000-04:00

For all the ladies and gay dudes out there the following key words or phrases have been translated to help you better understand the guy on the other end of the screen:

I don't bite (unless you want me to; not hard anyway, unless you're into that) = Horrendously uncreative, probably just as dull in bed

I like going out but also staying in, I can be fun but also serious = There are countless examples of this. "I like stuff, do you like stuff". Why bother? SAY SOMETHING!

Looks don't matter = Although very noble it makes you wonder. If looks really don't matter just don't mention them. If someone's casting a net out for the uggies they probably have some self-esteem problems

Discreet = Married

Looking for LTR, but... = If someone is looking for a long term relationship but doesn't mind "some fun" in the meantime, they're not really looking.

Not Into Head Games = Oh, well I was a complete douchebag who was gonna totally mess with your head but thanks for the warning that that is not what you're into. Usually a sign of emotional baggage from previous douchebags

5 foot 10 = 5 foot 8

160 Pounds = 180 Pounds

Smoking & Drinking = Upgrade every answer given: socaially means ocassionally, ocassionally means regularly, regularly means at any free moment and anything more than that means you are chatting with Joe Camel or Captain Morgan

Picture = This is them at their best or after graduating Cum Laude with the class of '91. Be prepared that when meeting them in person they will not be in black and white or seen through a vaseline covered lens.

Happy Dating :)

Guac, Drop & Roll

2005-07-19T12:17:00.000-04:00

I would like to introduce you my current source of weakness. Doritos Guacamole flavour you are killing me with your subtle mix of avacado, garlic, pepper and the subtlest hint of lime that dances on my tastebuds coaxing me to take one more chip, and again until the 300g bag is empty and I am tearing it open licking the insides for one more taste...so good when it touches the lips.

I beat your ketchup chips, and even the infamous late-night Hoops runs...but I never thought you'd sink this low.

DAMN YOU FRITO-LAY!

Folding @ The Falls

2005-07-18T11:51:00.000-04:00

On Saturday after Jay's Grad Party (Oh The Headbanz fun--waita innovate Adge) Earl, Trish, Mike and myself went to Niagara at 3:00 in the morning. Now for those of you who don't know me I am known for falling asleep as soon as the clock hits the double digit hours so this was truly uncharacteristic of me.

We went to Fallsview Casino where I played Caribbean Stud Poker with WAY too high an ante and pretty much gambled away far more money than I had to spend. And as an added kick-to-the-nuts I was informed that after I left the table the guy who got the cards that would have been mine drew 4 sixes - FUCKADOO!

Mike was smart and didn't spend too much, Earl developped what can only be described as a frightening video poker fixation where he'd go through like 12 hands in 1 minute with a speed of hand nurtured from years of masturbation. As for Trish some random dude walked up to her and stuck his claim ticket into her machine and walked away....it had 50 bucks on it! Now Trish says she did nothing to bring this on, but people don't just stick their claim tickets in your machine unless you let them stick their claim tickets in your machine if you catch my drift.

Then we went to the falls for the sunrise while I pooped myself in fear that my parents would kill me when I walked in the door. We got home around 7:45 a.m. and I am still running on only a couple hours sleep but good times were had by all.

...and if you didn't catch my drift I meant vagina.

:)