I'm Not Buying

Am I the only one who is mildly bothered by the fact that Helen Mirren is WAY TOO THIN and TOO YOUNG to play the Queen? Not that the Queen is fat—not by any means—but the woman is eighty! And she has your typical British constitution: stocky. And if she’s anything at all like my grandmother, she probably eats hearty meals of stew and Yorkshire puddings and broad beans and roasted potatoes. You know, anything to get ye through the bitter cold of an English eve. Whereas Helen Mirren probably eats like a bird on macrobiotic diets of arugula and fennel…

Don’t get me wrong: I love Helen Mirren. I have had a soft spot for her ever since she ate her husband’s testicles in ‘The Cook, the Thief, His Wife and Her Lover,’ but she doesn't quite pass for Elizabeth the Second. I think they could have tried a teensy bit harder. I’m sure her performance is phenomenal and perhaps maybe even Oscar-worthy; I have no idea. I haven’t seen the movie, but y’know, they can make Eddie Murphy look like a 300-pound woman, but they can’t add twenty pounds and a few extra wrinkles to ole’ Lady Helen? C’mon. I find that a little hard to believe…

The World Is Too Much with Us

I have had the first 2 lines of this poem rattling around in my head for the better part of 15 years. I remember it from Grade 11 English class, and whenever I am feeling overwhelmed or desperate; whenever I feel like the World is too much for me, or embarassed or disgusted about the state of mankind, it will often serve to calm and centre me. This is one of those days. But I could never remember the rest of the poem, so I finally looked it up:

The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers;
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon,
The winds that will be howling at all hours,
And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers,
For this, for everything, we are out of tune;
It moves us not.--Great God! I'd rather be
A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn;
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn.

-William Wordsworth

Television Without Borders?

When did TV get so crappy? And bland? This has got to be the first year that I have been so incredibly and utterly bored with the ole’ boob tube…Now, I know a lot of you out there are probably saying that you made that hard discovery years ago. Nothing new here, girl. Move along. But lately, it just seems to be getting worse. And more and more tasteless. We just keep pushing the ever tacky envelope in the wrong direction. And bearing the brunt of my disgust tonight, ladies and gentleman is the station formerly known as Arts and Entertainment! Oh, A&E! What ever the hell happened to THAT station? Remember when the channel’s slogan used to be ‘Time Well Spent?!’ Hmpf. May She Rest in Peace,more like. What ever happened to sick days spent watching Law & Order re-runs and laughing at the cardboard lines of Macmillan and Wife?! Now…(*shake*, *shake*, *shake*…) now it’s a disappointing mish-mash of mediocrity! They SOLD OUT!

Which brings me to their latest horrible idea: The Sopranos. Season One…SIX YEARS after it originally aired on HBO! Who the Hell cares about Season One now?! And who would even want to watch it, now that it has been completely stripped of its foul language, violence and nudity…which really, was the only good thing about that show. Now granted, I have never been the biggest fan of the Sopranos, but I know a good show when I see it and am a purist when it comes to HBO programming. The reason shows on HBO are so good is specifically because there are no commercials, and no editing. In other words, HBO treats us like grown ups. There is no reason on earth why A&E should be running Sopranos, nor why TBS should be showing Sex & the City, for that matter. These shows aren’t meant to be run on network television. That’s what makes them so entertaining. Essentially, what the networks are doing is stripping everything about the show which makes it unique and sandwiching it in between boring shows about airlines or motorcycle shops and marathon episodes of Growing Up Gotti and calling it ‘quality television.’ Anyone who IS a Sopranos fan watched that show when it first came out on HBO 7 bajillion years ago. Anyone else, rented or bought the seasons on DVD and watched them commercial free, back-to-back. It’s too late. The only people who haven’t seen the Sopranos yet are the ones who either don’t want to, or the ones who have no business watching it in the first place, namely the youg’uns. I mean, even CTV showed them, what four years ago? Get with the times, A&E!What’s next? Are you going to start showing Season 1 of ‘V’? Oooh. Real cutting edge there...way to pander to your consumer.

Now, you must understand, I don’t actually watch that much TV anymore. But it’s January and I am tired and broke and therefore, watching more TV than usual. So when I do finally sit down, I want to make sure it’s something I like. Where the hell is ‘Queer Eye For the Straight Guy,’ for example?! Was that show too hilarious and desperately needed for straight men and women everywhere? Were there no more straight men to make over anymore? Please. One quick trip to any mall or fast food joint will answer that question in a jiffy. It has all been replaced by JUNK. So I end up spending the only 2 hours I have to sit down and relax watching American Idol, which I don’t even really like. And when is the reality wave going to finally come to an end? Beauty & the Geek? America’s Ballroom Challenge? Grease: You’re The One That I Want? Ice-T’s Rap School? C’mon! Armed & Famous?! (well, actually, that one’s pretty funny…) But seriously! Enough already! What’s next: House of Crappers? So you think you can Fart?

God Help Us All…

"Awkward is the New Cool"

My sister and I went to see “The Human Body Project” on Saturday night and it was very interesting and thought provoking. For those of you unfamiliar with it, it is an art exhibit wherein a 45 year-old woman in her 9th month of pregnancy stands naked in a room full of people. She is not a model and has never had any cosmetic surgery. One of the things that really touched me about the project was learning that although she makes it look so easy, she sometimes finds it very difficult. That seems like an obvious statement, but for me personally, I always think that quote on quote skinny people have an easier time with that sort of thing, pregnant or not. Of course, that’s a preposterous statement—everyone is self-conscious about his or her body, but I love that she is doing this despite and because of it.

So, why would someone choose to do this, you ask? Well, in her own words, she says: “As a person, I struggle with what appears to me to be a common condition, disconnection: disconnection from myself, from my fellow humans, from joy, from life. As an artist, I started the Human Body Project to create healing, awareness and connection for myself and for others… We are all now well aware that we live in a frighteningly vulnerable and interconnected world. But look at how we still close ourselves off, look at how we treat ourselves and each other, look at how we treat the Earth. I truly believe we will get nowhere until we all viscerally understand our own and our collective vulnerability. "

It has taken me a couple of days to process and digest the experience. Here are my thoughts: If I were to tell the truth, I would have to admit that I was hoping for a stronger personal reaction to the exhibit. I admit that I was hoping it would be a little more rejuvenating and invigorating for myself personally. This has nothing to do with her; it has to do more with myself looking for external inspiration to something that is so intrinsic. I was looking outwardly for some strength, when I think the whole point is to give it to yourself. You absolutely have to admire the woman’s chutzpah! Man oh man. All I kept thinking was "good for you, lady; good for you.” And then I was trying to picture myself standing there naked and couldn’t fathom it. What would my reaction be? Would I be able to stand there so exposed? I think I would start to cry. One thing is for sure; I could FEEL her vulnerability and was extremely appreciative and respectful of it.

She spoke a little to the audience about feeling very equanimous and that it’s the first time she’s ever felt that in a show before. She explained that in previous shows, she has always felt like she should be acting or standing in a certain way, but that this time she was just being. To me, it seems that that must be what it feels like to let go of self-consciousness. Wouldn’t THAT be great? Not to feel self-conscious any more? I think we could all work a little harder at equanimity. And we definitely need more people to get up and make bold statements about what they believe in. It’s women like her who are going to help mend humanity.

So, my hat’s off to this commendable and remarkable woman who is a testament to women everywhere! Liberate yourselves. Love your body, folks. And if you can’t do that, then at least accept it for what it is.

Impulse Control, eh?

I just read this fantastic article in Psychology Today about your ‘dieting muscle’ and feel as if I have just been given a new lease on life! I’ve spent this entire past week thinking about goal-setting and achieving. Wouldn’t it just be great if this was the year that we actually followed through with our New Year’s Resolutions?! I have felt better in the last 7 days than I probably have in months. It really feels great to be back on the wagon, eating right, exercising…and my body is rewarding me in kind! If only I could hang onto these feelings of good will straight through until NEXT January. But I’ve been down this road before; I know how it goes. Three weeks from now, once my metabolism has kicked in for good and I’ve phased out my 3 ounces of carbs from my lunch, I’ll be STARVING and dreaming about eating the couch…But wouldn’t it be great if once—just once—I could actually conquer this demon once and for all? Man, that really would be nice…

Anyhow, I digress. Back to the life-changing article I just read: Basically, it states that self control is a limited resource and is like a muscle that gets depleted if overworked. Push yourself too hard, and your discipline will buckle! It goes on to explain that oftentimes when people are attacking a particular goal—losing weight for example—that they push themselves SO HARD that they are only setting themselves up for failure. Well, hallelujah! Then it carries on to say that if self-control can be depleted, then it can also be built up and offers great suggestions on things you can do in your everyday life to help ‘bulk up’ your mental muscle. Apparently, exercising restraint in other realms can carry over into dieting discipline. Isn’t that fantastic?! I was practically squealing with glee when I read the article. I was so ecstatic that I nearly woke Jane up to tell her about it, but I contained myself. (See?! I’m already on the road to success!)

So for all of you out there battling your own wars of will, here are some helpful suggestions:

* Spend a week or two avoiding alcohol (check)
* Focus on eliminating ‘um’s or other unnecessary words from your speech
* Try brushing your teeth with your less dominant hand
* Remind yourself to sit up straight
* Try not to hit the snooze button on your alarm clock

Flex the willpower muscle in everyday life and your diet/quitting smoking/exercise regimen will benefit! Go figure! My sister was also telling me about this article she read once about shaking up your routine a bit. Do you always put your toilet paper roll on the same way, or get dressed in the same order? If you always do the same thing and are unwilling to make small changes in your routine, then how on Earth do you expect to make any big changes in your life? Neat, huh? Today, I worked on breaking with routine by staying in my pyjamas all day and not leaving the house. Tomorrow, I thought maybe I'd try putting my underwear overtop of my pants and seeing how well that goes over.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have some pie to eat and some backwards teeth-brushing to do...

Over and Out

What is it with men and telephones? They INVENTED them, after all? When Alexander Graham Bell first revolutionized our modern way of communication, do you think that he heard the collective *groan* of men all around the world agonizing in the knowledge that they would now have to *phone* their wives and let them know where they were going to be?! Gasp! Probably not, but the more advanced we are getting with our wireless phones, Blackberries, text messages, emails, iphones and what-have-yous, the harder it seems to get a hold of one another. It is now easier than ever to keep in touch, so why is it that our communication skills have deteriorated so drastically? And why are men still so bloody hard to get a hold of?! The answer of course is because they want it that way. Oh sure, NASA can communicate with astronauts in SPACE, but I can’t even get in touch with a guy who lives across town.

First, there was someone who we shall call CRAYZMOND, who had no phone when I first met him. If I was lucky, I would get intermittent calls from him when he had the inclination to walk the several blocks required to use the pay phone (yes, they still have those—they’re right next to the horse and buggy shops.) And that was when he was in town. If he was out of town, I had some cryptic, creepy sequence of beeps from some hotel in the middle of nowhere, from which I may or may not get a reply. Maybe, I was leaving secret messages for the aliens.

Then there was the lawyer, who had a Blackberry, but gave me a cock-and-bull story about not being able to receive incoming calls on it (?!) and so I had to wait around until he deigned to contact me. Finally, I got his email address and could email him on his Blackberry and he would call or email me back. Feh. Too much work! Here’s how it should go: I pick up my phone, I dial seven digits. You answer. The end.

Now there’s the Hottie whose number—since Monday—has been ‘temporarily out of service.’ Hm. Now I am giving him the benefit of the doubt—as I always do—that perhaps his phone has been lost or stolen. Fine. But you know, it’s just the last straw in a very long line of shaky reeds. If men want to keep in contact with you, you'll know. There is no shifty or suspicious behaviour. It just makes me trust them even less than I already do. I have a home number and a cell number. If I am not home, there is an answering machine where you can leave me a message. I will call you back. All of my family and my friends also have these new fangled ‘phones’ and ‘answering machines’—even my parents, who knew Graham Bell personally! So what it all amounts to is that shyster men—despite the ease of communication which technology is supposed to be affording us—have found new and inventive ways to avoid us and be A PAIN IN MY ASS!

So, maybe from now on, I should tear a page from the book of man: if you want to get in touch with me, you can use morse code, telepathy or my personal favourite, the Ouija Board.

10-4 Good buddies,
k.

I Need A Handle

Okay, so it’s January, which is hands-down, the worst month of the year. I think we can all admit that it sucks. It’s still cold…and dark…and snowy…and you’re broke from all that overspending in December…you’re in detox from lack of alcohol and you’re back taking another crack at your vices, whatever they may be: the gym, the diet, the smoking, the alcohol. So yes, it’s shitty. But no matter how prepared you think you are, January is still a sneaky little cunt. She kinda sidles in behind you when you’re not looking and punches you in the face when you turn around to see where that noise is coming from. Yes, our old friend January has a sneaky left hook.

Unfortunately, knowing all of that doesn’t help at all. Yesterday, my first day back at work after weeks of opulence and embarrassing decadence, wasn’t so bad. And I actually thought “You know, maybe this year, January won’t be such a bad month after all…I’ve still got a little bit of dough, and I’m not that hungry and I feel like going to the gym, so maybe…” Maybe I wasn’t in full-on detox yet. Today hit me like a truck full of hairy ass. UGH! At 10 a.m., the clock seemed to be going b-a-c-kwards….and I was starving…and exhausted! I barely made it to lunch. All this forcing your body back into a routine—regular wake-ups and meal times and gym days—is really a soul-sucking endeavour.

I am facing this year feeling as if I spent all of 2006 going in the wrong direction! And I haven’t felt that way for a really long time. And it sucks. I am feeling very disappointed in myself. For the last 3 years or so, I have faced the New Year feeling as if I had it by the balls. I knew what I wanted, and by God, I was going after it, no matter what it took. I was on track, I was so proud and relieved at the direction my life was taking. This year, I am scared to death. Scared of ending up right back where I started, of undoing all the good I have done in the past 3 years. It’s because I know what needs to be done; I know how to do it; I how much work it is going to take and I am scared to death that I just don’t have it in me anymore.

At the same time, part of me is starting to get really, really fed-up. I am ready to face this thing ONCE AND FOR ALL. (It’s the Final Countdown… do,do,doooooo, do,do,do,do,do…cue cheesy 80s song by Europe…) I want this part of my life behind me. I want the change to be over and done with so I can get on with the rest of my life. It is time to slap that fat bitch out of my life for good. I loosened the reigns SO MUCH in 2006 that I lost them completely. But like you said, Craig, they’re still there where I left them, I just need to bend over and pick them up. But I’m just feeling like a petulant child, ‘Aw. I don’t wa-nna.’

But you know, it just needs to be done. Nose to the grindstone. Do it. Get on with it. I need to find myself again: Regroup, Reassess, Reconnect.

Stagger onwards, soldiers.

Struttin' Her Stuff

C +B gave me a peacock as part of my Christmas gift (my favourite animal.) We decided to make the peacock a permanent fixture! She was all hidin' in the bushes of our aloe plant, but we decided that wasn't a regal enough place for her, so we found a much more suited perch. I haven't stopped laughing for 2 weeks. I was a peacock in a former life.

R.I.P. Mike Baldwin 1976-2006

As good in Au Pair Girls as you were in Coronation Street, the knicker factory just won't be the same without you...

The Pursuit of Stupydity

Has anyone figured out yet why the new Will Smith movie “The Pursuit of Happyness” is spelled incorrectly? Did the film producers forget to run a spell check before the final print ads were run? Don’t tell me that it was actually supposed to be some lame attempt at an original and catchy title? Please. What is wrong with spelling happiness correctly? And I like how in the title, the word happy is all bolded and set in a different colour, so as to make the glaring spelling mistake obvious. ha!

I think that there should be a certain amount of responsibility involved in ensuring the general grammatical correctness of the titles to which hundreds of millions of people are going to be exposed. In other words, learn how to spell! I’d say that rule has more or less been followed until now. Of course I’m sure there are many films out there with "errors" in their titles. Spike Lee, for example comes to mind. But that’s all about Ebonics, and that’s a whole other kettle of fish. In those cases, at least people KNOW that ‘aint’ ‘gangsta’ or ‘homie’ are slang terms and that ‘Mo’ Better Blues’ is not--for lack of a better term--considered “proper English.” But in this case, I honestly think that the mistake is so subtle that most people won't even catch it.

Unfortunately, aforementioned movie producers are giving way too much credit to its North American audiences and doing a great disservice to the audience that this film is trying to target, namely younger viewers, by assuming that they are going to notice the deliberate error. So what we are going to have here, ladies and gentlemen is an entire generation of impressionable folks who think that Happiness is spelled with a ‘y.’ Does that really matter? Well, yes, I think it does, because where do we draw the line? Aren't things being dummied down enough?! Pretty soon, people are just going to revert to Neanderthal ways and point and grunt. Much easier. Who needs this pesky language business anyway?

So hey, why not play around with some of our most classic movies, you know, just to spice up their titles up a bit. Let’s see, there was Gone Wyth The Wynd, West Syde Story, Gandhy, Schyndler’s Lyst… And while we’re at it, let’s just start replacying all of our ‘I’ words with ‘y’s and vyce-versa. Whi the heck not?

What does yt realli matter aniwai?