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!

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!

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.

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. :)

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.

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? :)

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!

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!!

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?"

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

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. :)

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.

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

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!

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.”

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.

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!

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.

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!