Tuesday, December 27, 2005

BudBuck


So we are home again after a fantastic Christmas in which Buddy, as is usual, set all the rules. Mark and I went to my parents' cottage for Christmas. Along with my parents, sisters, grandmother and uncle, it was a pretty packed little two-bedroom place! All the sleeping areas at my parents' are in the basement and the main floor houses the kitchen and living areas. Mark and I don't allow Buddy into the bedroom for two reasons - 1) we hope to have kids soon and plan on co-sleeping with baby and so have decided not to let Buddy get used to sleeping in the bedroom and 2) he'd jump all over us and hog the bed and otherwise disrupt our sleep. So at the cottage, my sister's cat goes into the one room that has a door that closes (Simon is notorious for disrupting sleepers) and Buddy stays in the open concept living room. We barricade the stairway with chairs to prevent him from coming down into the basement and bothering people. This has worked very well in the past but not this time.

Buddy busted through the barricade as soon as the lights went out. My sister was the last one to bed and said that he had been lying with his head and paws breaching the barricade and that as soon as she turned out the lights, he slithered like the Grinch right through the chair barrier and was down at our bedroom door in a flash. So I took him back upstairs and added some more chairs to the barrier, criss-crossing them to shore up any holes and weak points. Five minutes later there is a bark and whining at the door of the bedroom. I don't know what kind of doggy gymnastics he was doing up there but at that point I gave up, grabbed my blankets and slept up on the couch in the living room so that he wouldn't spend all night trodding on my poor sisters on his way to our bedroom and keeping everyone up with his pitiful moaning. Oh Buddy!

Anyway, one of my gifts was Photoshop! Woo hoo! I am learning to work the tools and have created BudBuck! You can see it's a little amateur - I didn't take the time to feather out his ruff and blend it naturally into the deer's chest. But I did use fancy tools to erase the deer's ears and replace them with natural background grasses. I also got wicked gifts handmade by my crafty sisters that I will post later. Fun Christmas -yeah!

Thursday, December 22, 2005

Why would you do this to me? Why?


I saw this picture at Dooce.com today (if you don't read Heather Armstrong's blog, you really should. Especially if you have ever been depressed and/or have or want to have children. Go there. Immediately. www. dooce.com. Well, maybe finish reading my blog first) and I had to post it. This is her two year old daughter, Leta, on Santa's knee. I just frickin love it.

Both Eaton Centre and Yorkdale Mall have a day when you can bring your pet for a picture with Santa. And I mean, come on, how cute would Buddy be with Santa. Our sweet little man is so photogenic! But given that Buddy is startled by plastic bags that blow in the wind and pieces of cardboard that slide off piles of snow at a slightly downward trajectory, I'm not sure he could handle it. Not to mention the fact that Buddy gets very excited when we go new places. Think junior kindergartner who just ate 25 pixie sticks kind of excited. The mall, with all the people, colours, smells and movement would probably flip him right out. On top of that, I don't think even a calm Buddy would let me sit him with a stranger and then walk away. That would create the doggy version of Leta's reaction. Ah well, I guess we'll just have to try for another year of the Santa hat!





Merry Christmas!

Tuesday, December 13, 2005

WTF Award: Elle Macpherson

So apparently, Elle Macpherson doesn't like it when women wear unmatched underwear sets. The following I got off msn a couple of days ago:

The Australian-born beauty says she can't stand it when girls' bras and knickers don't match.The 42-year-old revealed: "I believe in matching underwear, even if it's your comfy bra."Wearing unmatched lingerie is like wearing one brown sock with one blue one."The stunning model - who has her own range of lingerie - also warned women to avoid showing off tell-tale pantie lines.She said: "None of my knickers have elastic around the bottom, so there's no knicker line."Earlier this year a controversial advertising campaign for the star's Elle Macpherson Intimates was given permission to be shown on Australian TV screens.Viewers had complained about the ad - which showed an underwear-clad woman handling knives before cutting to two women having a knife fight.It closed with a woman cleaning blood off the kitchen floor.However the Advertising Standards Board in Australia passed the raunchy campaign.

Okay, first of Elle, fuck off with the whole underwear thing. I have a bra I like, I have a brand of underwear I like. It's no one's business and certainly not yours. If I want to look sexy, I'll wear sexy underwear but on most days, underwear is there to serve a FUNCTION, not to please others. Right now, not only do my bra and underwear not match, my underpants even have holes in them. Like it's not bad enough we have to worry about whether or not our outer clothes are fashionable, now supermodels can slam our undies and it's news? Seriously, fuck off. And, FYI, I do wear mismatched socks. You know why? Because they're just socks. Unless I'm going to meet the queen, IT DOESN'T MATTER.

As for visible panty lines, get over it. I mean, I agree that if you’re going to wear slinky pants or a barely-there dress, you should probably wear a thong. I’ll give you that – it’s all part of the look. But if I’m going about my daily life in my regular clothes and you can tell – gasp! – that I’m wearing underwear, so what? If you don’t like it, don’t look at my ass, how about that? I’m so tired of all this panty line bullshit. It’s just one more way to keep women preoccupied with others’ evaluation of their appearance and to reinforce internalized beauty standards and an objectified body consciousness in order to deepen shame, maintain oppression, and sell products. Don’t by into it. Wear a thong if you want to and regular underwear if you don’t and let them deal with it!

Finally, WTF with EM’s commercial? Women having knife fights in their underwear? ????????????? Wow Elle. I’m sooooo glad you enriched our lives with yet another celebrity lingerie line. I know that was really missing in my life. And it’s great how you combined sexuality and violence and marketing into one titillating money grab. It’s not like women around the world face violence and abuse every day. And it’s not like women are degraded by violent pornography that encourages rape fantasies and desensitizes men to violence against women. It’s not like we are affected by continuous images of violence on television, becoming desensitized to the suffering of others. It’s really wonderful how you had the women fighting each other because I like to see stereotypes of bitchy, competitive women trying to take each other out. It’s not like those stereotypes serve to separate us from each other and diminish our power as women. And finally, how thoughtful that you included a final image of a woman wiping blood from her kitchen floor. That captures womanhood as I understand it - not only can we sex it up by stabbing each other in lace panties, but we can still care for our homes. That’s the true superwoman of the new millennium. If there was only some way for the one woman to make out with the other woman while she stabbed her or have her have to a give a blowjob afterwards once she’s done with the killing or something. That’s the kind of thing I’d really like to see.

To Elle Macpherson, for single handedly undermining everything feminism stands for and for being such a fucking crazy insult to women around the world, I bestow the WTF award. Congratulations Elle. I think I will wear mismatched socks for the rest of the week in tribute to your massive ignorance.

Wednesday, December 07, 2005

The Wrath of Buddy

So this week I got in biiiiiig trouble with Buddy. Hoo boy!

Buddy, as you may know by now, is an extremely sensitive dog. My husband and I refer to him as an indigo dog (based on a book called Indigo Children which is all about very senstive children and how difficult our harried, modern world is for them). When I took Buddy to the groomer, he wouldn't look at me or cuddle with me for two days. When Mark went away for 5 days this summer, Buddy gave him the cold shoulder for almost a month. If dogs in the park play a little too rough, Buddy runs over and barks at them and if their owners try to discipline them, Buddy tells them off too. He likes predictability, harmony, and a constant flow of treats.

Buddy has a signature move that lets us know when we've displeased him somehow. On a typical evening, Mark and I each occupy one end of the couch (scrunched up to make more room for his royal heiny-ness) while Buddy sprawls in the middle. We then usually laugh at him and poke him and play with his ears. But if one of us goes to far, he lets us know. Usually this one is Mark so I'll explain it that way. First Buddy will huff, a quick, audible exhale of disapproval. Then he will slowly get up and reposition himself right in tight against me and settle in with his back against my legs or side, facing Mark. He will then give Mark "the stare," glaring at him while he nestles into me, just to make it really clear who is the favoured parent, and who is in the proverbial doghouse.

Well this week I was the target of the stare and Mark was the chosen cuddler. My vast offense? I wouldn't let him lick my pants. Buddy is spoiled, this is not news to anyone. I had been eating crackers in my pj's and wiped my crummy fingers on the outside of my thigh. For some reason, Buddy felt this was a clear indication that he should be able to lick my pj's. I will let Buddy do many things but I will not let him lick people's clothing. I have to draw a line somewhere and that is where I drew it. Buddy was not pleased. It was over TWO HOURS before he would cuddle with me again.

Take heed you of the crummy hands. Invoke ye not the wrath of Lord Budworth Fussington III unless you are prepared for the dread horror of his soul-shattering Stare. :)

Wednesday, November 23, 2005

Squirrels from heaven


So Buddy and I were out in the park the other day and he was enjoying treeing squirrels. I don't let him off the leash to do this because 1) he's fast enough to catch and kill them (learned that the hard way) and 2) once he gets "squirrel crazy" he stops listening and won't come back when called. And I am so done chasing him through the park for over an hour and then having to go back to find his boot that flew off at some point. So what we do is slowly stalk the squirrel and then once we're close I say "Get 'im Buddy!" and Buddy lunges at the squirrel which promptly runs up a tree. Then Buddy barks at it a few times and we go on our way.

So we've done this a few times and are heading home when Buddy spots a squirrel already up in a tree and stops at the base of the tree to bark. And I'm watching him and seeing how cute he is when all of the sudden this black thing plummets out of the sky and hits him right in the face. And I'm all "WTF? Did someone just throw something at my dog?" And then I realize that a squirrel has fallen out of a tree right onto Buddy's mouth. Buddy has also come to the same realization at the same time. And the squirrel has just realized it has fallen on a dog. And so in the same instant we all start moving wildly - the squirrel tryiing to get its feet on the ground, Buddy trying to get his mouth on the squirrel and me yanking the leash in a panic. Luckily for the squirrel I was faster than Buddy. And poor Buddy was absolutely frazzled with the intensity of all of it.

The best part, though, was the old man who walked by while this was happening and gave me a dirty look like I was letting my dog eat squirrels. Dude, I do my best but when they leap from the treetops into his mouth, I can't do nothing about that.

Thursday, November 17, 2005

Astroboy


The other day I was somewhere in the downtown area with Mark and I saw this. So I'm leaving it for you to figure out where it was.

So why did I call this post Astroboy, you ask? Simple. Remember at the end of the Astroboy cartoon (the only cartoon that was on Saturday afternoons in my childhood) when Astroboy would report in on what happened in that episode's "adventure" but (as the female narrator would tell us) "he made a mistake in order play with you" and you were supposed to try and figure out what the mistake was? And the worst part was that they never told you what the mistake was, you were just supposed to confer with your friends and try and figure it out. And dude, it was so hard! I could never find the mistake he made, no one could. I think it was all a mind game. Astroboy was a robot, he was toying with us humans - "I will make them think there is a mistake when there is no mistake. Their heads will explode and then robots can take over the earth!" Okay, so that wasn't so funny. In fact, it was downright hack. What can I say? I'm tired.

Now She-Ra made it much easier. At the end they'd show a little clip and that fuzzy, rainbow animal creature would hide and you had to find it. And it would just be smack in the middle of the screen hiding behind a twig or a butterfly or something 1/20th of its size. That was much more my speed. In fact, it caused me so little stress that I had completely forgotten about it until my sister Kelly mentioned it to me a couple weeks ago whereas the agony of the Astroboy "game" has stayed with me for 20+ years. Stupid Astroboy and his Mensa games. Anyway, I will give the answer to my game to anyone who wants to know (so I expect emails from all three of you who read my blog!). I'll even give you a clue - we went to St. Lawrence Market and it was something we saw on the way there! Oh, I am so sad imagining anyone is actually going to try and find this little beaver. Ah well, we live and die by our delusions, what's one more? :)

Friday, November 11, 2005

Being crazy


So this week, I was riding a mental breakdown. I told my family about this and they asked what happened and I told them that I got overstimulated. At which they pretty much pissed themselves laughing because they were picturing a 5 year old at the fair who's eaten too much cotton candy, been on the tilt-a-whirl a few too many times and is overloading by the games guy pressuring him to throw rings at bottles. But seriously, that's how I felt. I was lying on the couch and I couldn't watch TV or read and when my husband tried to talk to me, I felt like I wanted to throw up just from the effort processing the sound of his voice. It totally sucked.

This is the thing about being crazy. 50% of the time, I feel pretty good, just like everybody else. 45% of the time, I feel like I struggle a little bit because I feel crappy - low mood, IBS, intense fatigue, irritability, panic attacks and all that. And then there's this weird 5% where I feel crazy. Just full on, there's something wrong with my mind, I'm not safe in my own skin, crazy. And dude, that 5% sucks really, really hard. And the worst part is, nothing helps. You just have to kind of ride it out.

Anyway, I am now feeling better, though still a tad shaky. The upside of all of this, however, is that Grocery Gateway is coming with a delivery for me in a few hours. Normally, I don't use GG because they're too expensive but when you're curled up in the fetal position of crazy, you are justified in spend a little extra dough to help you get through it. And man is there something sweet about groceries delivered to your door. Because I personally hate hate hate making two trips with groceries. It's a long, long way from our parking spot to our apartment. And before the car, I had to actually carry groceries home and up and down steps. So there's always a part of me that's calculating as I shop if I can carry everything in one load, part of me that's always looking at the number of heavy items in my cart. But with GG, you just pile it on because somebody else is doing all the lifting. Too sweet. Plus it means that tomorrow Mark and I can do something fun instead of entering the hell on earth that is the grocery store on a Saturday. Which is a good thing because the snow started falling last night which means we have to get some new boots for our dog cause there's no way I'm using the same boots as last year. But as Tales from the Riverbank would say "But that's another story." Go Hammy!

Sunday, November 06, 2005

Warning: Post in which I share too much information



So I got my period a couple of days ago! Yeah me! And while you might wonder why this is such a momentous occasion as don't most women get their periods, let me assure that it is. You see, I have been off the pill for three months after spending 15 years on it! 15 years! Over half my life. And it amazes me to see that my body can actually behave the way it is supposed to without chemical intervention. Especially since for the last 3 years, I really haven't been getting my period at all because my body adjusted to the pill too much for it to happen. So it's been pretty frickin' cool.

What's even cooler is that I've been charting my basal body temperature to track ovulation and this month, everything happened exactly like the book said it would. My temperatures varied but on average for the first 14 days they were .25 degrees lower than the second 12 days - a raise in temperature of .15-.5 degrees signals ovulation. Then, on the 27th day, my temperature plunged back down and that afternoon, just like the book said, I got my period. Pretty frickin' awesome. I know the thrills seem negligible but I am in awe of my body right now. It actually works.

It is especially awesome for me because my body and I have such a bad relationship and between IBS and acne, and weight issues, and headaches and body pains, and my lack of coordination, and depression, and panic attacks, well, sometimes it feels like my body is completely broken. So this is just cool. Plus, it means maybe I'll actually be able to get pregnant next year. Now that would be amazing!

Yeah for Erin and her magical menstruating body!!

Tuesday, November 01, 2005

Racism, thy name is Erin

So in my schooling we have been carefully sensitized to issues of cultural diversity. This means that when I am working with clients of a different ethnic background from mine (you know, generic white girl) then I try not to act like a racist ass. Alas, last week I saw a client, a young black woman, and was trying so hard not to be a racist ass that I ended up being a racist ass. I know, you are shocked, but let me explain myself.

I have found that, counselling here in Toronto, at least 75% of my clients were not actually born in Toronto (I don't know about Toronto, everyone born here seems anxious to get out!). And so I routinely ask where people were born. But I know that people often make the assumption that people of colour are all immigrants so while I was talking to my client, I was reflecting on this and decided not to ask "Where were you born" which might imply that I am assuming that she was born outside of Canada but "Are you from Toronto originally?" which is a bit more neutral because hardly anyone is ever from Toronto but it still leaves room for her to be fully Canadian. Of course, what came out of my mouth was "Are you from Ca... Toronto?" Ugh. And though she didn't flinch, she answered "I was born in [this Canadian city]. My parents were born in [another country]. Gak. Chalk up one more white person assuming she's an immigrant.

Later we were talking about her school and work history. Given things she had told me about herself so far, I assumed that she had gone to university. But at the last second I thought, "Wait, maybe she didn't. I don't want to just assume that she did in case it makes her feel bad." So with this thoughtful caveat in mind, I ever so sensitively fumbled out "So, did you end up going to university?" Which in itself might not have been so bad but on the heels of the "Are you an immigrant" fiasco felt like more racist innuendo. And she replied that yes she did and she studied [an incredibly difficult subject that impresses the hell out me whenever someone is studying it]" To which I responded, "Wow." Seriously. "Wow." Which of course makes it sound like I was 1) surprised that a black woman went to university and 2) surprised that a black woman studied this crazy hard subject. I should add here that I knew from our previous conversation that at some point she had left the crazy hard field and gone into an equally impressive creative field but didn't know if she had done this before or after finishing her degree in the crazy hard subject. So to top off the whole ridiculous mess, I blurted out "So did you end up finishing that degree?" like she was some crazy black cracked out drop out. Grrr.

Anyway, in my many attempts to avoid wording things offensively, I just ended up wording things offensively. She took it all in stride. I can't say that she found everything offensive that I am worrying about but I do know that my friends have told me about the racism they experience all the time in situations just like this. I just so didn't want to be one of those health professionals. Alas. Next time, I'm just going to ask the questions straight because, dude, "Where were you born?" is waaaaaay better than "Were you born in Ca... Toronto?"

Saturday, October 22, 2005

Pregnancy is too complicated

So a couple nights ago I was seized with the overwhelming desire to toss all forms of birth control out the window and get pregnant as soon as possible. Woo hoo! But then I realized (with the help of my husband) that there are many things we must do before getting pregnant. Here are 25 things I MUST do (according to the experts) before I get pregnant:

1) I must go off my anti-depressant medication
2) I must have a physical, likely followed by a round of antibiotics as I always seem to have a mild UTI, which is linked to miscarriage
3) Add more calcium and B-vitamins to my daily prenatal vitamin
4) I must lose 80 pounds
5) I must rid myself of all cosmetic products, shampoos, Saran Wrap and soft plastic items which contain phthalates which cause genital abnormalities in the male fetus
6) I must purge my house of all tuna products and soft cheeses
7) I must (somehow) determine whether my vinyl lunchbag is the kind that contains lead or that doesn't contain lead and if so, find a new one
8) I must train my dog to do a "down-stay" as well as play him a CD of baby crying and screaming sounds for him to get used to
9) I must take out a massive student line of credit to cover unexpected costs
10) I must get a flu shot
11) I must engage in daily relaxation exercises to ensure that my stress levels don't reduce my fertility
12) I must switch to organic everything in order to cleanse myself of pesticides that can harm my baby
13) I must develop methods for relieving headaches that don't involve Advil or Asprin (impossible, as am convinced that Tylenol is a sugar pill)
14) I must engage in a range of squats, pelvic tilts and abdominal and kegel exercises to ensure efficient birthing process
15) I must compile list of midwives as you cannot make an appointment before you are pregnant but by the time you find out you are pregnant (two weeks after conception), their waitlist will be too long to accommodate you
16) I must sit down with my husband for long, protracted discussion of our own childhoods and how our experiences may be influencing our attitudes towards parenthood
17) I must have sex in every place imaginable while I still can
18) I must kick my decades long diet coke habit
19) I must limit my time in front of the computer (ack!) because of the radiation from the screen
20) I must get a dental check up as gum disease is linked to miscarriage
21) I must take a lavish vacation with my husband as a last hurrah before children
22) I must chart my basal body temperature to determine my ovulation cycle
23) I must figure out how to tell "egg-white" cervical mucus from other kinds and when my cervix feels more like my nose or like my lips (I'm serious)
24) I must adjust to lukewarm showers as hot showers can raise the body temperature which can be harmful to the fetus
and last but not least
25) I must determine solar flare activity for the upcoming year as solar flares increase the general level of radiation experienced on the earth, which may harm my fetus

Yeah, guess we won't be chucking the condoms quite yet

Sunday, October 16, 2005

One step closer to parenthood

So I was reading Dooce.com the other day and was reading her old back entries on when she was pregnant (since I am obsessed with getting pregnant next year and dooce always tells it like it is, I thought she'd provide a good sense of what pregnancy is like). She had a post about her dog throwing up and how cleaning up his vomit made her feel a little more parental. I had a similar moment yesterday.

As you may know, Buddy is a lousy player. We take him to the park where all the other dogs are running around. We take off his leash with a flourish, crying aloud "Run free, little doggin. Run free!" At which point he either dashes off after a squirrel not to be seen again for an hour (very, very bad) or he finds the nearest piece of garbage at eat it. Dogs will run up to him and he will ignore them. They are practically inhaling his penis they are sniffing so much, and he just acts like no one is there.

Anyway, we got sick of chasing after him when he was squirrel hunting so, for his off-leash time, we've been mostly taking him to a small park across the street where there are few squirrels. So, since there are no squirrels, he's been eating a lot more garbage. And I know what you're thinking - "Why don't you stop him from eating the garbage?" Because he's sly, that's why. He'll pretend like he's just sniffing around for a place to pee and then he'll scoop up some bit of something and turn his head away and act like he's still sniffing around until he's swallowed it. And this happens every three feet or so. It's a constant battle. Lately his favourite garbage has been little circular pieces of cardboard that seem to be shaker tops (why are these in the park every day?) and folded up pieces of cardboard about an inch square (still a mystery what these are). He's been eating these as much as he can for at least a month with no problems. Until last night.

Just before his nighttime pee, Buddy let out a huge burp and then barfed twice on our floor. This was shocking because Buddy has only barfed once in the year and half that we've had him and then he was very sick. Anyway, there were little brown squares in his barf that were either little ribette bones or this cardboard paper. And because I am a doggy parent, I did what any good doggy parent would do - I picked one up out of the puddle of vomit to determine what it was (it was cardboard). Then I wiped off his mouth and cleaned up the vomit puddles and fussed over him when he got back from peeing. And it's true what dooce said - it's not the same as parenthood, but it made me feel a little bit more like a real parent. Plus, dog barf isn't nearly as gross as people barf so it's not so traumatic - a good warm-up exercise for parenthood. :)

Monday, October 10, 2005

I am the queen of organization


So for the last month, this piece of paper has been serving double duty as both my mousepad and my notepad for all of the crazy informaiton I needed to do my comprehensive exam (still no official word) and my scholarship applications. Now that it's all over, I want to throw it out but first I have to transfer all of this info to the relevant files. And for those of you wonder what NKOTBLRICTWGCIWAR stands for it's "NewKids on the Block. Let's rock! It's Christmas time, we're gonna celebrate it with a rhyme." Don't ask.

Wednesday, September 28, 2005

Social activist in the making


I was home this weekend and unearthed my grade 6 diary. As the entry posted below shows, already my social consciousness was growing, though apparently, the injustices of the world didn't exactly keep me up at night.

September 21, 1987.
Dear Diary,
Guess what? Mr. K changed his mind. We're not doing solutions, we're doing plants. Oh well, it'll be fun at least. You know I've been thinking lately about how lucky I am. I mean, I've got a perfect family. A large allowence, all the food and clothes I could want. What more could I ask for? (a winning lottery ticket!) But such is life it's so incredibly unfair. If you don't have white skin your not as good? Wrong! Well, such are the ways of this wicked world. Gotta go! Bye!
Yours truley,
Erin

I had also begun to delve into deep philosophical questions regarding the very nature of reality (and yes, I did use both the words quote and unquote - unquote notice, not end quote - and actual quotation marks. What can I say? I was thorough).

September 25, 1987.
Dear Diary,
Do you think there are aliens. I do! I mean maybe they live inside the planet not outside like us. What about the universe? Does it end? What comes after? Is the universe just a cloud in the sky. Quote "If every 100 years an eagle brushed the top of a 100 foot mountain with just one feather, when there was no more of the mountain just a second has passed in eternity." unquote.
Yours truly,
Erin

But despite the great leaps I was making in my social and intellectual development, I apparently still had a few problems with keeping perspective (FYI, I always got stinking buttloads of stuff for Christmas, way more than was reasonable. Always).

December 31, 1987.
Dear Diary,
I will fill you in eventually I promise. Today Shannon + I went to the mall and I bought a really cool camera. It $28.75 but it was $13.00 less than before. You won't believe this. Shannon is going to England and than
PARIS!!!!
Some people have all the luck. Then again her mother was killed in a car accident. Well today is the last day of the year. We are going ot a movie tonight. Shannon went home and I'm in my room. Paris! Paris in France! What I wouldn't do to go there. And Shannon is going. I mean shit I havne't even been out of North America. The farthest I've gone is Florida. I cleaned up all my Christmas things. I didn't get a lot this year. I went to get that WOB money and guess what. The post place was closed. My god well see you next year!
Love
Erin

Thursday, September 22, 2005

Cute pooch!

Look at this super-cute print I got for $4.50 (with a matte) at my school's poster sale. I love it!

Saturday, September 17, 2005

And Jesus blushed and said "I don't know this guy, I swear."

Seriously guys, this one doesn't even need me to say anything. It speaks for itself. I found it at
http://datelinehollywood.com/archives/2005/09/05/robertson-blames-hurricane-on-choice-of-ellen-deneres-to-host-emmys/ Oh, Christians. WWJD? My guess is hide in embarassment.

ROBERTSON BLAMES HURRICANE ON CHOICE OF ELLEN DEGENERES TO HOST EMMYS
Lesbian is New Orleans native
Hollywood – Pat Robertson on Sunday said that Hurricane Katrina was God’s way of expressing its anger at the Academy of Television Arts and Sciences for its selection of Ellen Degeneres to host this year’s Emmy Awards. “By choosing an avowed lesbian for this national event, these Hollywood elites have clearly invited God’s wrath,” Robertson said on “The 700 Club” on Sunday. “Is it any surprise that the Almighty chose to strike at Miss Degeneres’ hometown?”Robertson also noted that the last time Degeneres hosted the Emmys, in 2001, the September 11 terrorism attacks took place shortly before the ceremony.
“This is the second time in a row that God has invoked a disaster shortly before lesbian Ellen Degeneres hosted the Emmy Awards,” Robertson explained to his approximately one million viewers. “America is waiting for her to apologize for the death and destruction that her sexual deviance has brought onto this great nation.”
Robertson added that other tragedies of the past several years can be linked to Degeneres’ growing national prominence. September, 2003, for example, is both the month that her talk show debuted and when insurgents first gained a foothold in Iraq following the successful March invasion. “Now we know why things took a turn for the worse,” he explained.
In order to avoid further tragedy, Robertson called not only for the Television Academy to find a new heterosexual host, but to bar all homosexuals and bisexuals from taking part in the ceremony.
He said employees at the Christian Broadcasting Network had put together a list of 283 nominees, presenters, and invited guests at the Emmys known to be of sexually deviant persuasions.
“God already allows one awards show to promote the homosexual agenda,” Robertson declared. “But clearly He will not tolerate such sinful behavior to spread beyond the Tonys.”

Wednesday, September 14, 2005

Ummmm... what's your name again?

I know, I know. It's been a very long time since I last blogged. But I have a much good reason. I've been writing my comprehensive exams. This is a week long set of exams that I need to get an A on in order to get my Ph.D. Because apparently getting straight A's and scholarships for the last NINE years isn't enough proof for them that I am smart. Apparently, they need me to sit down and write 5 essays in a week to prove it one... more.... time. Gug. Anyway, that's what I've been doing. I've had four panic attacks, two of which occurred in public. And a had a half a panic attack when I was handing my work in. I started frantically checking my essays to see that I had all the pages, that the pages had staples, that I was wearing underwear, that it was actually Tuesday and not Monday, that dog was still god spelled backwards etc. The elderly woman next to me on the subway was sort of looking so I said "I'm handing in my exam and must check it obsessively." She smiled and said, "yes, I know, I was young once too." I said, "I go crazy checking it over and over." and she said "You're not the only one who does it." I love that lady. She made my chest stop pounding for 4 whole subway stops and made me feel slightly less alone in the mad, crazy universe of the subway panic attack.

Anyway, during the last week, I've spent about 12-14 hours a day writing the essays. Saturday night, day 5 of the exam, I decided that at 8:00 I would stop and not do anymore work for the rest of the night. Mark and I tried to rent a movie but there was nothing good out. And nothing good on tv. So I thought, hey, maybe I'll read a book. And then I threw up a little in my mouth at the thought of stuffing anymore knowledge into my head. So then I thought, I know, crossword puzzle. And I pulled out my word puzzle book (yes, I have a word puzzle book. Several actually. Yes, I'm a geek). I flipped through and was feeling vaguely panicked by the challenging stuff so I decided on a nice simple word search. You know, where you find the words hidden in the random letters. They used to have them in Chickadee magazines when you were five or sometimes you'd get them at the dentist with words like "floss" and "toothbrush" hidden amongst a page of q's and z's. My point is, it's as easy as the word puzzle gets.

Anyway, I lasted TWO WORDS before my brain threatened explosion and I had to stop. It turns out, I had pushed the old computer to the limit and it was heading toward the picket line (Hey, I like to mix my metaphors!). The only thing I could handle was tv. And not even watching a show. Just flipping through the channels. For two hours. Just me and the remote while Mark sought refuge downloading music online. Two hours of flip... flip...flip... Then I was tired and I went to bed.

Anyway, my brain is coming back today. Enough that I realized I wrote in my paper that the case study woman was emotionally liable instead of emotionally labile. I'm just going to have to hope the examiners don't read it too closely. In case I haven't written about this in the past, I should make it clear here, I HATE SCHOOL. GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
GAA! GAA! GAA! GAA! And yes, that is the way I'll explain it once I'm Dr. Ross, too.

Saturday, September 03, 2005

Dawson's Creek sucks ass

So since writing about Joshua Jackson and Chad M. M., I thought I'd tune in to Dawson's Creek to see when they were going to get to Chad's plotline. Which by the way, is a really bad plot line because it involves Joey singing in a band and seriously, WTF? Katie Holmes a) cannot sing (did they not remember her attempt to croak out "On My Own" in a sing-talk, off-key fiasco during the beauty pageant episode) and b) has none of the charisma of a band member.

Anyway, I digress. The point is I watched 1.5 episodes and it sucked so hard. The first episode involved the gang catering a wedding with Joey's dad as chef. After the dinner was over, all the little Creekers hit the dance floor, in their catering uniforms. Hello??? Waitstaff do not dance at weddings. I have both worked for a catering company at weddings and have been married. First of all, trust me, if you're staff you're still busy after dinner is over. And then you're tired. Plus, you're not a moron so you don't assume the bride and groom would like to party with you, whom they've never met before and even now only know you as the bringer of food and champagne. Second of all, if the staff had decided to join in the dancing at my wedding, I would have been so pissed off. It's a formal affair that costs thousands and thousands of dollars, not a chance for staff to make-out on the dance floor. Seriously, Dawson's kids. Boundaries.

Then I watched the episode where Andie starts to hallucinate that her dead brother is around. While this episode has some very good sensitive Pacey moments (mmmm....), it is the worst written episode ever. First of all, Andie calls her brother Tim, "Brown." To me, this is a "strategic" plot device which allows Andie to talk to her hallucination and Pacey to overhear from another room and not realize she's talking to Tim. But the reason they give is sooooo poorly crafted. Apparently, when Andie was little she couldn't pronounce Timothy so she called him Brown instead because brown is her favourite colour. Um, what? First of all, what little kid finds brown easier to say than Tim? Seriously, the br sound is hard for little mouths. So that's just crap. Secondly, I do not know a 2 year old girl out there whose favourite colour is brown. Purple, red, blue, pink, yellow. These are all colours children love. Brown? Seriously, he had brown eyes and hair, couldn't that have been why? Or how about that he always wore brown because it was his favourite colour? That would make more sense. Especially since we rarely see Andie wear brown, which is unusual since it is her favourite colour and all. So frickin' dumb.

Then to make matters worse, they provide very lame explanations of her mental health disorder and have her taking only moderately appropriate medication. Apparently Andie's problem is much like her mother's - after Tim's death she repressed her grief so much that her subconscious produced a Tim hallucination for her to talk to. Hmmm. Yeah, in my circles we call that a psychoanalytic conjecture, not a diagnosis. The diagnosis would be Major Depression with Psychotic Features. For which apparently, Andie takes an anti-anxiety drug. I guess we're supposed to think that anxiety brings on the hallucinations? Which it does in real life sometimes but it seems like her major problems are going untreated. That's some good psychiatric care she's getting.

Plus, I hate Dawson sooooooooo much. I hate James Vanderbeek and I hate the character of Dawson. That show would be so much better without him. Seriously. Really, they could have kept Michelle Williams and Joshua Jackson and just let everyone else go. That includes you, Katie Holmes, with your crazy couch-jumping boyfriend and your inability to wear a bra that fits properly!

Saturday, August 27, 2005

Joshua and Chad part 2

So I was talking to Mark and telling him about my post and how Joshua Jackson has 3 new movies coming out and I daydreamed aloud "Imagine if Lucas and Pacey were in a movie together?" And he said, "What, Queer as Folk?" and I said, "Don't joke. That would be the hottest thing EVAR!" Especially if it was first season QAF when Justin and Brian were first hooking up and Michael was jealous so there was lots of tension. After that, the B& J sex wasn't as hot and Michael got some very ugly boyfriends.

Anyway, the point is, it would be really hot. Til then I'll just have to settle for old reruns of Dawson's Creek when Joey is dating Charlie. Do Pacey and Charlie even really share screen time during those episodes? Maybe he punches him or something. Man, it's going to be a long wait before that happens considering they're just showing the first season on TBS. I swear, these celeb crushes - so hard on a girl!

Joshua and Chad... ahhhhhhhh.



So as some of you may know, I have, on rare occasions, developed mad celebrity crushes. Until now, the only real enduring celebrity crush I have had has been on Joshua Jackson - Pacey from Dawson's Creek. This crush has led me to watch reruns of this show incessantly (so many lost mornings!) as well as continually tuning in to anything where he makes a brief appearance (i.e. Ocean's 11). It has also led me to read too many magazine interviews with him which in turn led me to believe that he was a "good person." Plus, he's Canadian. We got to stick together, after all. Anyway, in the interviews he comes across as intelligent, caring, humourous, sensitive, all that good stuff. And then on the show, you can just tell by the way he interacts with people that he is all of those things too. The way he hugs Joey, with a casual tenderness of someone who doesn't have to make an effort to show affection, oh my! Seriously, I'm not kidding here. In love with Joshua Jackson. Had one too many imaginary "conversations" with that one.

Here and there I discover others who harbour secret love for Josh. The writers of Television Without Pity delighted me with their discussion about the season finale in which "new, responsible" Pacey was super hot! And I recently discovered a girlfriend of mine is also much enamoured of Mr. Jackson. I am not alone in my crush madness! Hurrah!

But alas, recently a new celebrity love has come into my life and threatened me again with madness. However, this one is much more embarrassing. Chad Michael Murray. I just picture me and a thousand 14 year old girls watching the show obsessing about him. There is some justification though. He is undeniably cute. I'm totally hooked on One Tree Hill and desperately waiting for him to hook up with Brooke. It's been infuriating tracking that show over all of its time changes this year. But anyway, I'm in love with Chad M.M. for all the reasons I'm in love with Joshua Jackson. He seems to be sensitive and caring and intelligent. Again, casually tender (bestill my heart!). I was overjoyed to see him on reruns of Gilmore Girls. I even watched the Cinderella movie that has Hillary Duff in it, I'm that far gone.

So today I went on-line to see how old he is and how creepy my crush actually is. Joshua Jackson, after all, is only 2 years my junior. Perfectly respectable. Plus, he's a Gemini like me, which means we would get along famously. Chad M.M., is a less respectable 5 years younger than me (an 80's baby - gack!) but in these days of Ashton and Demi, not totally absurd. He's a Virgo though, we're less of a match that way. But I digress because the real point is that visiting these websites made me love him even more because 1) he was bullied as a young teen to the point where he got his front teeth knocked out. You see he needs protection and emotional healing plus he is better able to understand the emotional suffering of others and 2) when asked what tv character he most related to he said PACEY!! You see? You see???? He really is a perfect target for my celebrity crushes. Oh Pacey and Lucas. Joshua and Chad.

The only downside for Chad M. M. is that his name is Chad. People rag on him for using three names but I would if I were him too. It draws the attention away from Chad when you pair it with Michael. Plus, he has his initials tattooed on his arm. I've never really understood people who tattoo their own names on themselves. But hey, a girl can overlook a few things for the man she loves.

Thursday, August 18, 2005

I can feel it coming!

Today was glorious. About 26 degrees, blue sky, cool breeze. I took Buddy for a long walk in the park and actually felt no resentment about it. So wonderful to walk without risking heatstroke. In the shade, with the breeze it was positively cool. And in case that wasn't good enough, one of the maple trees in the park has started to turn and has actually dropped leaves. Fall is just around the corner!! I saw that and my heart gave little leap of delight! I love the fall. Luh-uh-uve the fall. It's my very favourite time of year. This summer has been so stanky and nasty, I can't wait. Woo hoo!

I know this is a lame blog but it's been a long day. Take it or leave it, suckas!

Friday, August 12, 2005

Free adoptions at THS!


Hey all! Well, in my continuing quest to save little doggies from the mean streets and noisy shelters of Toronto I wanted to let you know that the Toronto Humane Society is waiving all adoption fees, I believe until the end of August. And for a change, they have lots of nice dogs, not just pitbulls. They have some labs, golden retrievers, beagles, and little dogs (min pin, maltese). This one here is my favourite. His name is Charlie. He's a two-year-old spaniel retriever mix. He's the winner in my opinion. So hie thee to 11 River Street and adopt a doggie. They're just little creatures who need some love after all. Posted by Picasa

Wednesday, August 10, 2005

Ads that piss me off #5: iPod


So I'm sure you've all seen the iPod campaign on tv or in print. Silhouettes of people grooving to their iPod's with the iPod's in white and various bold colours in the background. In general, I have nothing against this campaign and have even enjoyed it. Until now. This is the latest ad on the streetcar platform near my new work. Silhouettes of people with various aspects of their clothing in colour. In blue, I think it was the line of his jacket zipper and his collar, in pink, the straps of her shirt or backpack or something, in green the pockets on his hoodie. In yellow, a giant fucking striped bee-on-acid bikini top. WTF? All of the other panels have subtle and small bits of colour and then WHAM!
BOOBS!
Seriously, what? And I like how they chose the yellow panel - the colour that would contrast most against the black to make the biggest boob impact possible.

I don't have to tell you why this irritates me (not that that will stop me). Blatant use of female as sexual object to sell product. Until they show one with a guy with a day-glo orange crotch, it's just another sexist piece of crap. And even in that case, it would still be lame. It's boring. Do you hear me Apple. BORING!! I am sick of seeing advertisers use cheap and tired sexual titillation because they don't have the creativity or the motivation to come up with something truly original. I dream of the day when clever, appropriate ads that enhance our society and bring a smile to our faces will fill our city's landscape. Alas, it just seems to get further away every day.

I think I need to move to an eco-community. I'm not joking. This urban living is bullshit. Even more in this city where every conceivable surface is fair game for advertising and city council seems to see no problems with that. Gak. Arrrrrgh. Bluuuuuurk. Mfffffkt! I'm losing the capacity for speech I am so annoyed. Anyway, you've heard the rant before, I'll spare you. But seriously, try harder Apple. I'm an iPod owner. Don't make me sorry with your crap ads. Posted by Picasa

Friday, August 05, 2005

Lounging Buddy


Here is the latest picture of our little fur-baby as he lounges on the couch, post-walk, with mommy. As you can see, he feels no compunction about making himself comfortable. Nor do we seem to impose any limits on his comfort! :)

For those of you who are familiar with our long list of alternative names for our sweet doggie, there are a few more to add to the list:

Buddy Las Vegas (preferably sung to the tune of Viva Las Vegas)
Little Chuffer (because he makes a chuffing sound at us when he's annoyed)
Little boss man (because he thinks he's the boss, but he's not)
Mr. Bossy Pants (see above)
Little pachyderm (for when he hangs his head and lumbers like an elephant)
The great white hunter (the squirrels know why)
Spaz (should be self-explanatory)
Little man

But lest you think that we are the only ones to engage in such silly antics, in the summer issue of City Dog (free at the pet store - I didn't subscribe!!), there is a wonderful story on city dogs vs. country dogs in which the author, Dee Clair, reveals that her chocolate lab's (Newman) formal name is "Whiskeycreek's Whimsical Fellow His Royal Highness Sir Smarty Pants the Honorable Chocolatey Prince of the World and Everything in It." Now that's a name!

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Thursday, July 28, 2005

Stupid people ruin everything

So as some of you may know, I am a member of a group called Freecycle and also one called Freesharing. In both, you take things you don't want anymore and you pass them on to others for free. I must say, until now I have greatly enjoyed my involvement with this group and am even volunteering to represent them at an environmental fair. They do good work. But yesterday I had a very upsetting Freecycling experience that makes me want to chuck the whole thing.

So in these groups, people often say when they "spot" things on the curbside that look pretty good. In one of the groups, these "spotted" announcements are no longer allowed and the moderator suggested that if you see something good you actually pick it up yourself and then freecycle it. So yesterday I was walking Buddy and I saw a double stroller on the curb. I checked it out, thought it looked in good shape and wheeled it home and posted it. I explained where I found it, what kind of shape it was in, etc. I got several requests for it but I also got a few emails from people who thought I had acted irresponsibly.

One person chastised me for picking up baby-related items, suggesting that there might be a reason it was on the curb and it might be dangerous. Well, duh. Of course there is a risk. I would assume that anyone who wanted it would carefully test it out and check online for recalls and safety standards before using it. I myself just picked up a crib and you can bet your ass I'm going to check it thoroughly before deciding if I want to use it. I had assumed that other people would do the same. You know, take responsibility for themselves. It's the same as buying things at a garage sale, or goodwill. Buyer beware. But this person got me paranoid that this was too much to expect. It makes me sad that something good like Freecycle turns litigious so quickly. It ruins it, makes you fearful to participate, makes others feel like they don't have to make the time and effort to be safe and responsible.

Another person emailed suggesting it was actually illegal to take things from the curbside and that once they had been set out, they belonged to the City of Toronto. That one just made me laugh. First of all, nothing in this city lasts more than a few days on the curb unless it's TRASH. I only picked up the stroller because it was garbage day and I didn't want it to be landfill. So even if it's illegal, it's so frickin common. Secondly, I would almost like the City to bust me. In a city that has to ship its trash to the States and where the cost of city work and maintenance is astronomical, I would like to see them get on my ass for curbside reusing. I'd take that to the media so damn fast. There would be so much backlash against the city. Anyway, that person made me even madder than the first one because seriously, WTF?? Talk about encouraging fear, paranoia, and going against what I understand the Freecycling movement to be about.

Anyway, I was really upset last night and cried for a while. You know when you think you've done something really good and then people tell you it was a mistake and you feel stupid for being excited and proud of yourself? I felt like that. My husband told me that I should leave Freecycle, that it wasn't worth it if it was going to make me feel so bad. But I'm going to stick it out. I still think it's a good movement. But I probably will avoid baby items (which is a shame because people need them desperately) and will be a little less enthusiastic about the process from now on. Stupid people. They ruin everything with their stupidity.

Sunday, July 17, 2005

Vive la tour!



So my husband is a huge Tour de France fan and so for the last few summers I have been watching the tour for 2-3 hours a day for THREE WEEKS. One summer he even tried to watch it twice a day (they show it in the morning and then repeat it at night) but I had to put my foot down about that. Anyway, though I am not the hugest cycling fan in the world, the tour is pretty interesting. Three weeks is a bit much for me but I do enjoy it some days. There's lots of little things to know and appreciate about the tour. But the one thing that drives me crazy every day of every race is the stupid frickin' crowds.

I posted a pic that I think is of last year's tour to give you a sense of what the crowds are like in the mountain stages. They quite literally stand so that they fill the whole street and draw back just enough to let the riders through. And once they pass, the crowd flows back in to the whole street. There is usually a little motorbike in front of the riders that serves to partially break the crowd but at the thickest points, fans just flow back in after the motorbike has passed. At other parts where the streets are little more open, fans will jump in front of the riders, wave and scream and then jump back at the last possible second. Others will run beside the riders waving huge flags at them and shouting. It makes me cringe - I'm always just waiting for a breeze to send the flag right into the wheels of the bike. They also pat them on the backs (which is illegal and can actually result in the riding getting a penalty if it looks like the fan pushed them), pour water on them and offer them water bottles. So of the not so nice fans also spit on them (WTF with that????) and call them names.

Anyway, this is a big part of the tour and since it's 200 K long a day, they can't really enforce crowd control. But it drives me nuts. Every single day I'm shouting at the tv "Get out of the way!!" I often resort to profanity. I mean, these cyclists have been riding uphill for 5 hours. Do you really think they want to have to weave among drunken or idiotic fans who can't get off the road fast enough?? And several times over the history of the tour, people haven't gotten out of the way fast enough and have caused riders to crash. Piss off!

Well, today was a treat for people like me. It was the tour's hardest mountain stage and the biggest crowd ever turned out. It was twice as thick as that pictured above - people were literally inches away from the riders on all sides. Anyway, there were a couple riders up in the lead and this guy jumped out to shout at them. I think he was running with them and then fell off the pace and stopped. In the middle of the road. There were more riders coming up shortly behind him led by a motorcycle (they carry guys on cameras who get all the crowd shots). The guy wasn't moving and he was threatening the safety of the cyclists behind and the integrity of the race so the motorcycle ran him over!! In fairness, there was absolutely nowhere for the motorcycle to go - it was surrounded by people on all sides, it couldn't have even swerved. It was awesome! It just hit him straight on. Of course the riders fell of the motorbike and the fan went down. But the cyclists were able to get through. Oh, it was brilliant. You might think I'm heartless but, dude, fans stay on the SIDES OF THE ROAD. If they're going to stand in the middle of the road during the tour, they deserve what they get.

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Friday, July 01, 2005

WTF Award - No male birth control pills

So my husband and I are thinking about having a baby in the next year and I am debating when to go off the birth control pill. Now I know they say you only have to be off it for a month but since I have been on the pill since I was 14, I'd like to go off it my 4 or 5 months ahead of time and actually get to see what my body does on its own. Which of course leaves us with the alternative contraception dilemma. It seems easy except that I am allergic to latex. So we've got no pill, no patches, no shots, no condoms (we tried the non-latex ones - let's just say they're not good), no diaphragms, no cervical caps. IUD's are not recommended until after childbirth. So that leaves us with spermicide. We're going to give it a go via the Today's Sponge (he is spongeworthy! lol) but I have a bad feeling about this. Given that I am allergic to soap and moisturizing cream, what are the chances I'm not allergic to Nonoxonyl-9?

Which brings me to my WTF rant. Why have the drug companies not developed a birth control pill for men????? I mean, if you want to be safe, what makes more sense, wearing a bullet proof vest or taking the bullets out of the gun? Apparently they've been working on them for a while and they have none of the cancer or blot clot risks that female pills carry AND the contraceptive effect goes away immedidately upon cessation - NO risk to fertility. And yet, where are they? I read a couple of years ago in a magazine that we could expect them in 5-10 years. 5-10 years???? WTF? I also saw a news story last year about it where they polled men on the street and they all said they wouldn't take it. Stupid machismo. Yes, let your woman take the dangerous drugs instead of you taking the safe ones. It's just like the whole stupid vasectomy issue. Why not let your wife have invasive, non-reversible surgery just so you can keep your "virility." Stupid. It's just all part of a culture where the burden of childbearing (or the prevention thereof) falls entirely on the woman and men can decide whether or not they "feel ready" to take part.

And just in case you're wondering, I've already got my guy talked into the old snip when we're done having kids. I figure I've been on birth control pills for 15 years. And then, after going through painful, disfiguring, never-ending, pregnancy and labour 2 or 3 times, I'm signing out. Dude, after that I'll hold the ice pack on his groin and that's about all! :)

Monday, June 27, 2005

Look at this face!


So this is Chester. Chester is a 2.5 year old Dachshund / Terrier mix who is housebroken, neutered, and has all his shots. He's gentle and sweet and gets along with everyone. I mean look at him. Have you seen a cuter dog? Look at those silly, fluffy ears. Chester is available for adoption right now. He is currently fostered in a really good foster home, Anne and Pete's. You can see him on www.Petfinder.com. While you're there, also check out Willy the springer spaniel and Charlie the Golden Retriever/Cocker Spaniel mix. I'm telling you, if we could have more dogs, we'd be getting Buddy three brothers with this lot.

So if you know anyone who's looking for a dog, check these guys out.

On a related note, after being seduced by the clever marketing campaign, I bought some Iams Savoury Sauce for Buddy. It's a vitamin-filled gravy you add to your dog's food to make it extra, well, savoury. So I was so excited. I poured it on his food this morning, set it down in front of him and waited to see the joy. There was no joy. He started to put his head in the bowl, caught a sniff of the sauce and looked up at me with a hurt, confused look. He then sniffed it again and looked at me again. He then very gingerly started to pick out individual pieces of kibble with the least amount of savoury sauce on them. This is a dog who usually eats anything you'll give him, including paper, oranges, and wax. After watching him pitifully and s-l-o-w-l-y consume five or six pieces of kibble, I gave him a fresh bowl with no savoury sauce. Which he gulped down. So much for savory! Stupid enticing commerical. I'm just glad I didn't by the three-flavour multi-pack! Posted by Hello

Sunday, June 19, 2005

Get off the frickin' sidewalk!

So, I have two pet peeves related to sidewalk use. Well, I say pet peeves but they're more like massive annoyances that make me want to punch people in the head. Of course, being me who dislikes confrontation, I usually contain myself to the dirty look and the half-turned head as they pass me by (you know that one - Seinfeld demonstrated it beautifully in the movie theatre). Anyway, my grievances are these: 1) people who are over the age of 12 who ride their bikes on the sidewalk and 2) people who use golf umbrellas as personal umbrellas on the sidewalk.

So first the bikes. Okay, I get that Toronto is a scary place to ride a bike. Traffic is crazy, pedestrians appear out of nowhere. But I'm not talking about Yonge Street. I'm talking about High Park where the streets are super wide and there is hardly any traffic. Today I was out walking my dog and some jerk in his thirties is riding up the sidewalk. There is not a single car on the road but instead of going on to the road to let me pass, I had to pull up Buddy tight against me and press against a shrub for him to go by. Ugh. I'm still getting mad thinking about it now. Frickin asshole.

And then, the umbrellas. WTF with business men who just whip their golf umbrella out of their car trunks and proceed to walk down very crowded sidewalks on streets like Bloor or Yonge? They piss me off. They don't look where they're going. They don't raise the umbrella as they pass by so it doesn't bean me in the forehead. They just take up the whole frickin' sidewalk like the frickin' jerks they are. Stupid entitled asses. There's a reason they make golf umbrellas and personal umbrellas. Golf umbrellas are for golf courses. Personal umbrellas are for everywhere else. And I feel I have to say, I have never seen a woman with a golf umbrella on the sidewalk, unless she was with a man. More gendered behaviour, IMO - women don't dare inconvenience others by taking up space where as men just take it all on and don't even think about the fact that they are invading everyone else's space with their ridiculous umbrellas. Now I realize this is a vast generalization and that many men are considerate and understand proper umbrella use. But I'm still waiting to see a woman with a golf umbrella on Bloor Street.

Ugh, people. Use sidewalks with just an ounce of thought! Or one of these days you might find your self at the business end of a withering stare from yours truly. And you do not want that. Trust me. I stare real good.

Tuesday, June 14, 2005

Stickin' it to the exes

So, here's a guilty secret of mine. I love finding out that my ex-boyfriends' lives suck now. I know it's petty and mean-spirited but it's great. I mean, to hear through the grapevine that they are out of work, living with their parents, repeatedly dumped by girls who treated them badly, dropped out of school, these things warm my heart. Of course, this is true for some boys more than others. Especially the ones who treated me crappy and thought I'd always be there. To them I say ha! I am very happily married to a good-looking, smart, funny, caring man, I'm doing my Ph.D., I have a great apartment, a fabby doggy and we're thinking about babies in the next year or so. My life is so good. And theirs are not. And it makes me happy, happy, happy. In fact, I think I'll do a little happy dance right now (and hope that the karma gods don't read this post!). :)

Wednesday, June 08, 2005

Freecycling is cool



So I was recently turned on to the phenomenon of freecycling and have to spread the word. It's basically a movement that developed in the last few years with the goal of keeping things out of landfill while developing a sense of community and fighting consumerism. It works like a listserv. If you have something lying around your house that you don't want anymore, you post the group and offer it to anyone who would like it. Then people email you to ask for it. You get to pick who you want to give it to. You pick the person, let them know, and then they come pick it up at your convenience. The group stresses that this is a gift that you are giving someone and it's up to you who you want to give it to. You can give it to the person whose email was funniest, shortest, first, 17th, or whatever you want. They take the stance that no one is more deserving than the next person and to just have fun with it. You can also request items that you need and see if anyone is willing to pony up.

So I joined a few days ago and today I had my first freecycling experience. I offered a bunch of dog things that Buddy totally ignores and has never used. I had seven responses in one day and picked the one that I liked best. The person I picked, Marjorie, came to get the things today and was super nice and I felt really good about giving her the stuff. I also answered a plea for some curtains by offering up an old IKEA panel that's moved with me five times but hasn't been used in three years.

Anyway, I dig things that are environmental and I dig things that are community building so I'm all down with freecycling. If you are interested you can go to www.freecycle.org or to www.freesharing.org and find out where there are groups in your area. It's free to join - the only thing they ask is that you offer something up for freecycling before you ask for things and that you always been polite. Check it out. It's super cool.

Freecycle! Yay! Posted by Hello

Tuesday, May 31, 2005

Mr. Pants


So here is a recent picture of my dog, Buddy, doing the "I can't believe you're on the computer when you could be playing with me" look - a mix of self-pity, boredom, and resignation. My dog is not the best trained dog in the world. We have been very lazy with his training because he is naturally quite well behaved. He's a sweet boy.

When we first got him from the rescue agency, they were calling him Pong (he had a brother, Ping). These were names they gave them - they were found as strays. We didn't like Pong. Mark wanted to call him Chilly (well, he wanted Chili, but I insisted it be Chilly) but after a couple days, it just didn't seem to fit. So it was between Tucker and Buddy and Buddy won out. And he's responded really well to it.

Despite the fact that he is Buddy, here is a list of the many other names we (well, mostly me) call him:

Bud
Budman
Budster
Fussy Britches (he has fluffy, bushy back legs and a twitchy walk)
Sir Budworth Fussington III
Sir Budworth Fussington of the Shire
Sir Fuss-a-lot
Mr. Man
Mr. Moo
Mr. Pants
Mr. Mister
Mr. Aliwister
Poops
Poopers
Pooper-scooper
Magoo
Mongrel
Mugwump
Doggin
Woggin
Baby boy
Sweetie
You
Crazy dog
Silly dog
My little guy
All natural white pistachio nut (this would be his show name if he weren't a mutt)
Sneezer
Cutie

And I think there's probably a few more. It's all just gibberish to him of course. He'll come to anyone who says "So-and-so, come!" in the right voice. We discovered this a few weeks ago at the cottage when my sister was calling her cat and Buddy kept running over. We eventually had to hold him back so that the cat could get to his food dish without Buddy running all over. Ah, dogs. You gotta love 'em.
Posted by Hello

Sunday, May 29, 2005

I'm not laughing because misogyny isn't funny

So, as I'm sure you know, feminists are often accused of being humourless. And let's face it, sometimes we are. Reading feminist literature or discussing feminist issues typically involves feeling somewhat bogged down by the hopelessness of the situation and feeling slightly helpless against the massive tidal wave that is global misogyny (don't believe me - think sex trade, think rape as a war crime, think the stoning of women for adultery while men go free, think honour killings, think wage disparity, think breast implants etc.). But there is a good reason why feminists often seem to lack humour - humour is often used as a catch-22 form of control over women and other groups. It goes like this - someone tells a sexist joke and either a) you don't say anything and the joke, which is derogatory and offensive, is passed off as acceptable rather than prejudiced or b) you say something and get accused of having no sense of humour, being "one of those" kind of women (you know, hysterical, feminist, lesbian, man-hating etc.), and of taking everything too seriously when it's "just a joke." It might be "just a joke" to the teller but humour that is degrading is just another form of sexism and it takes aim at women's sense of self worth and chips away at their power.

So why, do you ask, am I ranting about this? Alas, a family member who is otherwise fairly good about not getting tied up in gender role crap, shared a joke with me that I shall summarize for you here. Basically, it was sort of a fake ad, suggesting that men, if they have a nagging wife who wants them to do yardwork when there is a football game on, should consider surreptitiously shooting their wives with a tranquilizing blow dart to get out of it - she'll never know it was you, and you don't have to deal with her nagging. Such blow darts can also be useful to ensure the sanctity of poker night, golfing or other such activities that nagging, pesky, annoying wives are always getting in the way of.

Of course, I found this joke extremely offensive and tried to explain it. I'm not sure I made much impact. Of course, my relative claimed that he just shared it to "get me going." As if this is less offensive? "I am going to tell you a joke that attacks your value system and demeans you as a person because it is funny to watch you get worked up about it." Seriously not cool. To add salt to the wound, this joke was apparently picked up at his workplace which is largely male and very privileged. Which just goes to show that at the top of the corporate world, swapping such jokes over the water cooler is completely acceptable. I find this extremely disturbing.

I am also very pissed off at the joke. Shoot your wife with a blowdart because she's a nag? WTF? Violent imagery much? Vast devaluing of women as persons much? Don't like what she's saying, tranq her with a blowdart. I also HATE nagging wife jokes. Women are just sort of automatically put in charge of family life, even if they're also workers outside the home. They have to keep track of birthdays, buying the presents and the cards. They have to monitor the routines of the house - what needs fixing, what needs cleaning, what needs replacing when. They keep track of appointments, of meetings, of which friends and family members are visiting, sick, need help etc. They wash the sheets and towels, buy the toilet paper and the dishsoap. True, there are some households were the men fully and completely share in these household activities, but generally, even when men are helping out, the burden of keeping track of family and household falls disproportionately to the women.

And then men have the nerve to call them nags and to complain that their wives are on their backs. The nagging wife is such a demeaning stereotype. It takes a woman, who is voicing her needs and asking for help in meeting them, and reduces her to a whining shrew. It's just a tool for silencing. It calls up such bad imagery, who would want to be labeled a nag? It's a shaming word and again a catch-22. Either you reduce you're demands to avoid being called a nag or you speak your demands and are cast as unreasonable, demanding, and difficult. Either way, you end up not getting the help you need and somehow feeling bad about yourself and angry at your spouse. Not cool.

And of course, my relative didn't mean all of these things when he told me the joke but these were all the things I felt. It was really awkward for me because this is someone that I love very much, whose approval is important to me, and whom I am not all that comfortable criticizing in a serious manner. I was very upset for a while afterwards plus I was worried that I had offended him. That one little joke made me miserable for about four hours that night and it still makes me unhappy now. Even as I write this post, I feel angry about the joke but also worried about what he'll think if he reads it. It's a lot of shit to put a person through just to get a laugh.

And it's not that I don't have a sense of humour, it's that the joke isn't funny. Seriously, it's not funny. It's misogyny at work, whether he realized it or not. I would invite you, gentle readers, not to take part in that sort of humour, nor to stand idly by. Fight the good fight. Sexism comes in both large and small packages but it's all the same old shit.

Thursday, May 26, 2005

You should adopt a dog - yes you!


So I love my dog, Buddy. He just rocks. We adopted him last August and it's been such an awesome experience. He makes me laugh almost every day. Today we went to dog park and he was digging a big hole and kept looking up at my with a nose full of dirt and a huge smile on his face. He is also the sheriff of dog park and runs around breaking up fights and barking at suspicious looking characters. We got him a new toy yesterday as he put one to rest at the cottage last week. It was a sad moment for me because the toy we retired was the first toy we ever bought for him. I'm such a revolting dog mom. Buddy is spoiled rotten and I love it. He's just too damn cute.

Which brings me to my point - everyone must go adopt dogs. Shelters are such miserable places and while foster homes are better, dogs need their special people and a forever home. Dogs are great - they are funny and silly and cuddly and get you outside and active and meeting people. They keep you warm in the winter too! Plus you can dress them up in little outfits, teach them tricks and show them off to your friends.

www.petfinder.com has dogs available all over North America - you just enter in your city. For those of you in the T.O. area, there are lots of wicked dogs available right now. If you like bigger dogs, do a regional search for the Toronto area and check out Luky, Samantha, and Luke. If you like smaller dogs, try Chico, Sunny, Tassel and Minnie. The dog in the picture is Jesse. He's available too! Go now, do it! Adopt a dog!!!!!! YEAH FOR DOGS (ESPECIALLY BUDDY)!!!!!!!! Posted by Hello

Friday, May 20, 2005

Greetings from the cottage

Mark and I are at the cottage for a few days, taking a break from big city living. The cottage, which is my parents', is in Port Stanley on Lake Erie. It's awesome. Everytime we come here we daydream about staying forever.

It's been very eventful so far, especially for our dog Buddy. On our first day, he encountered no less than 2 snakes. He chased the first one through the brush on the hillside until it turned around and struck at him. At that point, he thought the best plan of attack was to bark at it from a safe distance several feet away. The second one he let go with only a few swipes of his paw, for show more than anything. Last night he encountered some bunnies, which definitely needed a good barking. He also took on Lake Erie. After being smacked twice with waves while trying to nip a quick drink, he began running along the shoreline barking at the lake. Go Buddy!

This morning we took Buddy for a walk and then laid in our lawnchairs until the sun got too hot and we had to move. This afternoon we're having barbeque for lunch - yum. And as a little icing on the cake, Mom and Dad have satellite television and I was able to watch One Tree Hill. I love that show and Global just dropped it with no warning. It was most exciting to see it again! And Mark has been able to take in many bike shows on Extreme TV.

Ah cottage living. A person could get used to this.

Thursday, May 12, 2005

Oh, John Black, how can you see through that squinting eye?

So, I am sitting here at 8:56, waiting for the OC to finish. Why, do you ask? Because I have set my VCR to tape it and soon it will be over and I can rewind it and then I can watch it. I have to say, I am not very pleased with the OC lately. Not that it was ever a high-caliber show, but this last season, it really seems to have disintegrated into crap. As has Days of Our Lives. I have been watching Days for, let me count, 17 years. Holy shit, that's a long time. I have made some of my best friends at university sitting in the common room watching Days. I have inaugurated my husband into Days such that he can name most of the Bradys and does a mean John Black impression. I saw Hope die FOUR times (if it were real life, her kids would be soooo fucked up. Can you imagine if your mother died and came back from the dead FOUR times???). I saw Vivian Allemain roll around on top of the grave where she had buried someone alive. I saw Stefano fool the detectives of Salem by wearing sunglasses and a fake moustache (he truly is the master of disguise). I saw Marlena levitate above her bed and I saw Isabella morph into a demon.

Dude, I've seen it all. I stuck with that show through some lean, mean times. But now, it's so boring. It is so boring that I, a fan of 17 years, have been unable to stomach watching a full episode for over a year. I have such a relationship with the show, it's taken me a while to come to terms with how much it sucks. First, I stopped watching the show regularly. I would just read the daily synopsis on my website and decide if I wanted to tune in the next day. Then, I stopped tuning in at all and just read the synopsis. Then the daily synopsis (synopsis, synopsis, synopsis, I don't think I've ever written the word synopsis so many times before) became too boring so I just started reading the weekly, short-form synopsis. Now I occasionally read the spoilers.

I admit, though, I did tune in the other day. I saw in the grocery store that Roman and Marlena were about to escape the island where they've been held captive and reunite with John Black and Kate. Since John Black crying with joy is one of my favourite mocking points on Days (along with Marlena's $4 million gasp and Stefano being hit my lightening), I tuned in just for a good laugh. I was sorely disappointed when he did not cry with joy, instead staggering around slightly and opening and closing his mouth like a fish flopping around on the dock. He also had a walking stick with an eight ball on the top for a handle. I haven't been watching - I'm assuming it was a gift of significance from Kate - so I can't say for sure what the deal was but I thought it was crap. John Black would never carry an eight-ball walking stick. As if. He's too James Bond for that. That's more a Bo Brady thing. lol

Anyway, the show is shit. That's all. OC's over now so I'm off to watch!

Wednesday, May 04, 2005

WTF Award - the first recipient: THAILAND and the Metro



Okay, so as those of you who check in semi-regularly know, I keep track of "ads that piss me off" and share them with you guys titled as such. Well, yesterday I came across this in the Toronto Metro and since it wasn't technically an ad, I couldn't place it under ads that piss me off so I have instead created the "What the Fuck?" awards. They will be given to stories, occurrences, public displays that just baffle me with their immense stupidity, ignorance, etc.

So first up is this. In case you can't make out the caption, Thailand hold the "Miss IMF" contest - IMF short for I Am Fat - in which they find the woman who most resembles an elephant in "elegance, size, and grace." This is reportedly done to promote elephant conservation.

Now don't get me wrong, I don't have anything against saving the elephants. I just think it's very sad that at least some people in Thailand value elephants more than women. I mean, come on! Is there any way of looking at this that is not degrading and offensive? And WTF with the Metro running this as a humourous piece of amusing world news rather than recognizing it as sexist, fat-phobic bullshit?

Anyway, this is what I was reading in the paper as I traveled to my body image therapy group. Made me feel real good. Thanks Thailand. And thank you, too, Metro.

WTF Award recipient, May 2005.

Seriously though, WTF?

Monday, May 02, 2005

Behold TEAM FALCON!!

Our mighty mascot!

Jill and Kelly cross the finish line!



So this Sunday my sisters and I took part in the Bell Walk for Kids to help support Kids Help Phone. This is something that we just started doing in the last year. I am all about Kids Help Phone as I have learned through my work that many kids use it. Last year Kelly and I walked for the first time in the freezing rain, risking hypothermia in the name of charity! This year Jill joined us. And so did the sun (much, much nicer).

This year we were also officially a team - the Falcons. Our mascot is the brave and noble tiger, of course! Jill and Kelly made us wicked team t-shirts so we looked super snaz. Plus, our team was only for cool people and we were on it, so of course, we were cool!

The walk went well except that we got cheated out of mini-chocolate bars by hoards of children and their hard-core, line-butting parents who grabbed them by the boxful from the volunteers. This was difficult for Jill to make peace with but somehow she held on to her goodwill and finished the walk. Kelly had to fight extremely challenging conditions in the port-a-potty (note: port-a-potties at events with children, never a safe place to go). Me, I had to contend with the fact that very few people seemed to join me in my fever for the dance, although Kelly did an excellent job of boogie-ing down with me during the warm-up (see my sister's blog for pics www.everythingisaspoon.blogspot.com)

The walk only took two hours this year (ever walk 5 km at a snail's pace?) which was an improvement over last year when the rain seemed to dull the crowd's will to move, causing the walk to cross into 3 hour territory. Afterwards, we were treated to a gourment lunch of hot-dogs, goldfish crackers, and (finally!) little chocolate bars. Poor Kelly, who is on an cleansing program, could not partake in this rich bounty and had to satisfy herself with organic trail mix and herbal tea.

Apparently, the walk raised $600,000 in Toronto. And I won a t-shirt! Woo-hoo! However, shame on the Bell Walk people for not providing recycling containers on route when they handed out hundreds of plastic water bottles. Boooo for recyclables going in the trash (I recycled mine later - I'm so good).

Gooooooo Falcons!

Thursday, April 28, 2005

Mom don't read this - I MEAN IT!! :)



So, for Mother's Day, my little sister, Kelly and I went together to get mom a present. Given that she and I share some grassroots-esque type leanings, we thought we'd get mom a "donation in your name" kind of gift. Heifer International gives animals to people in developing countries to provide them with both food and livelihood (www.heifer.org). So we thought that sounded good and got down to the serious business of picking which sort of animal to purchase. In our price range, the choices were chickens, geese, ducks and bees.

Well, as you may or may not know, I hate geese. This loathing has a two-fold origin. First, I grew up in London, Ontario and frequently went to a little place known as Storybook Gardens in Springbank Park. Storybook Gardens is a nursery-rhyme themed playground with slides and sculptures and a few animals (well, they said they had animals, you rarely actually saw them, but that's another post). ANYWAY, there was a concession stand in Storybook where you could get, among other things, snowcones and french fries. So, we often had fries for lunch while we were there. And also in Storybook Gardens and the park in general, there were Canada geese just walking around. A lot geese. And let me tell you, they understood french fries. As soon as you got your fries, you better believe they were there, trying to peck them out of your hands.
And when you're five and you're small and not that quick, it is a long trip from the concession stand to the picnic table. And even once you're there, they're there too waiting, honking, ruffling their feathers menacingly. Seriously, it was scary.

The same is true of the stupid geese at York University, where I studied for one year before I got the hell out and went to U of T. My residence was right beside a nice pond where I and my friend (now my husband) used to like to go. But try to sit there and have a nice lunch in the sunshine. First, goose shit everywhere. Second, the geese would attack white styrofoam containers and brown paper bags. They had figured that shit out, let me tell you. Sometimes I used to leave by paper bag out as a decoy to try and distract them while I ate my actual food. Ah, the taxing work of Fine Arts undergrad at York - trying to outsmart geese.

So long story long, Kelly and I didn't want to buy geese. We also didn't want to buy chickens, because, well, they're ugly. Which left us with ducks and bees. Kelly however, was quite concerned that bees might be a handful for the first-time beekeeper. She had fears of vast stingings about the face and arms for our hapless recipients, not to mention the possibility of allergic reactions with no epi-pen in sight. We investigated a little more and discovered that basic training was provided along with the bees which waylaid her fears somewhat. What was unclear, however, was whether protective gear was part of the deal. The description said they would receive a hive and box but it said nothing about face guards (you know the beekeeping hat with the mesh face) and gloves. There were two pictures of happy recipients, one with a hat and no gloves, the other with gloves but no hat. This filled Kelly with a feeling of foreboding. Not wishing to condemn our poor recipient to a life of stings and fevered bouts of potentially fatal allergic reactions, we decided to go with the ducks. The website said they could be used for eggs or meat and that their poo makes good fertilizer. Plus it had pictures of fluffy little ducklings (not the one posted above, I took that at Humber Bay Park last spring). Who doesn't love ducklings? Really!

Sidenote: according to the spell check, there are no such words as "beekeeper" and "ducklings." Hmmm.

Wednesday, April 27, 2005

The Rot sets in....

I have wrinkles. There is absolutely no denying it any longer. For a while, I had the kind of wrinkles around my eyes that went away after a good night's sleep and across my forehead that went away once exams were done. And then after a while, they stopped going away. And I told myself "It's just that I haven't been getting enough sleep. I'm so run down and stressed all the time." But you know what? It's not true. No matter how much I sleep or what blissful zen state I enter, I still have wrinkles. And not only can you see them, you can feel them. Right now, I can feel little creases around my eyes.

This, I believe, is all part of a process that I like to call the Rot. Now I know, it's the age of the modern woman, and as a feminist, I'm supposed to embrace aging but whatever. I have an intense fear of aging and of death. On my FOURTEENTH birthday, I was sad to be getting older. And every year since has been the same. And here is what I have learned about the aging process - it's all downhill after 25. Now that is an average. Certain elements you can push up to 30 or so but basically 25 is it. Don't get me wrong. I know that life has many joys in the later years and that people complete staggering feats of intelligence, creativity, and strength after the age of 30. I'm just talking pure physiology and cellular processes. That's what starts to decline after 25. After that skin starts to lose its natural elasticity, fertility declines, your cognitive processes are less efficient, you capacity to absorb new information shifts downward, your flexibility reduces, your muscle mass reduces.

Of course, many of these processes can be slowed, prevented etc. but after 25 you can't just do nothing and keep improving. You have to actively prevent the decaying process. Yes, decaying. What else do you call the slow decline of your body's cells? This, my friends, is the Rot. Rotting on the bone for the rest of our years.

So what to do? I need botox. Seriously. I can't use all those anti-wrinkle creams because my skin still breaks out if I put anything but Noxema on it. So unfair - acne and wrinkles all at the same time! And I don't care what any product claims - I have never found a moisturizer that didn't make me 1) super oily looking or 2) break out. That's it. I mean, not only do I not moisturize but I put super drying creams on my face every night. Honestly, I'm just screwed. It's so sad to get to the stage where you can look back on pictures of yourself when you actually looked younger and better. It's also sad to know that I have now looked as good as I will ever look. So depressing. Stupid Rot. And I do need botox - I am constantly stressed and my forehead is wrinkled a good 65% of the day because of it. Even right now, the computer monitor makes me squint a little. I have to consciously relax my forehead. As soon as I start thinking about something else, it will wrinkle back up again. Ugh.

Ha, my dog is dreaming beside me. His paws are all twitching rapidly and he's kind of snorting - must be barking at squirrels in his dreams. I love my dog.