Sassy Stylings

I make laugh. I genius.

2012-01-27T10:35:00.000-05:00

Gotta give a shout out to ma Bridesmaids ladies! Kristen Wiig and Annie Mumolo got an Oscar nod for Best Original Screenplay and Melissa McCarthy for Actress in a Supporting Role. This is truly momentous given that the movie is a comedy. Oscar doesn't generally like comedies, and seldom are they nominated for much of anything.

There are, of course, a few standouts. Little Miss Sunshine won Best Picture, as did Alan Arkin for his unforgettable supporting role in that same movie. Diablo Cody won Best Original Screenplay for Juno (it would have been a crime if she hadn't - it's one of the most finely written comedies, ever).

For some reason, Oscar thinks comedy is ghetto, a lesser version of drama. I beg to differ. As a writer of comedies for the stage, I can tell you it's much easier to write drama than it is to write a good comedy - the key word here being "good". It's easy to write shit. But quality comedy is not for the faint of heart.

There are so many nuances of funny, and knowing how to layer them to get the most bang for your buck is very challenging. Writing comedy is not merely about writing jokes or one liners. It's finding humour where you least expect it, and requires an in-depth knowledge of language and how to use it. Californication is a great example of this. On the surface, this show could easily be dismissed as soft porn but if you really listen to the dialogue, it's sublime - some of the best writing on television.

Aptly performing comedy, I would argue, is also more difficult than portraying a dramatic role. People can be made to cry easily through blatant emotional manipulation but making them laugh out loud, from the gut, now that is an accomplishment. In Little Miss Sunshine, the ensemble cast was outstanding, and the defective van horn comedic genius.

Shitting yourself on a city street in a wedding gown is also genius, in the sense that the writers of Bridesmaids didn't shy away from being gross or honest about how women really feel. It was funny because it was true.

That being said, I recently found out that Hangover 3 is now in the works. I just feel embarrassed for the cast of this movie, its stars now demanding salary hikes for the third installment. They're completely ruining what was originally a very funny concept. Another sign of good comedic writers: they know when to quit and move on to another story. They recognize when they've written an absolute gem and don't try to tarnish it with lesser versions of the same thing.

Sure, I'm aware screenwriters are probably offered shitloads of money to write sequels to very successful movies but, as a writer, I wouldn't want a crap sequel on my résumé.

Here's hoping Oscar loved Bridesmaids enough to bestow its golden beauty upon it and further legitimize comedy as an art form.

When good shit starts to smell

2012-01-20T10:24:00.000-05:00

Why can't TV producers leave a good thing alone? Apparently, the CW will be creating the prequel series to Sex and the City. It will begin with Carrie Bradshaw in her senior year of high school.

Sex and the City started out as an edgy, funny, adult comedy on HBO. There was lots of sex, swearing, some nudity and, of course, great fashion. Then came the movies. Still visually stunning but a whiter shade of sexy, altering the flavour of the original series. Now, a teen prequel on the CW? From HBO to CW? There is no question this is a devolution turning a once great series into teen pap.

I know it's about making money but how long can we milk this thing? Here's where the creators of Sex and the City can learn something from Jerry Seinfeld. He went out on top. His hit series could have continued. NBC certainly wanted it to. But Jerry knew it would be better to stop while you're still at your best. When it ended, Seinfeld left us wanting more.

Sex and the City is now being dragged through the mud, rolled in dirt and stomped on until there's no life left. Frankly, it should have ended with the series finale. It was a gem of a show, and we could have remembered it that way. Now, I'm just getting bitter.

Speaking of sequels (or prequels, or whatever), Kristen Wiig has said no to a Bridesmaids sequel. I hope she sticks to her guns. The Hangover 2 was basically the Hangover, but not as good.

Sure, they brought back that crazy, naked Asian dude, but you know what? It just wasn't funny anymore. That joke was done. Hopefully, the ladies will know better and not mess with their original creation. Bridesmaids was a huge success. Let's just leave it at that.

Apparently, Katherine Heigl wants to return to Grey's Anatomy. Talk about ruining a good thing. Is this show still on TV? The first three seasons of Grey's were awesome. Funny, witty, smart, sexy - it was a show that didn't take itself too seriously.

Then, there were some major casting changes in Season 4, and along with that, a distinct shift towards sophomoric melodrama. I caught a few glimpses of later shows and couldn't even watch five minutes what with the constant wailing and gnashing of teeth.

On a happier note, there was a one-night only performance of Twilight - The Musical in NYC. A parody, of course, and a charity event to raise money for Blessings in a Backpack. When I read the headline, I experienced a moment of sheer terror at the thought of this being an actual, serious musical adaptation of what can only be described as really bad shit.

But then, as I read on, the article depicted a show that poked fun at the ridiculousness of this book series, and all was right with the world. I can only hope Twilight - The Musical will be revived and have a long run on Broadway.

When "mommy" equals "money"

2012-01-09T16:04:00.000-05:00

I heard a rather interesting radio documentary recently on "mommy blogging" and how it's turned into big business. I felt compelled to write about it since some ethical quandaries popped up about blogging in general.

Back in the day, new moms began blogging as a means to share ideas and experiences, building a supportive community of women going through a similar phase in their lives. Doing so, they radically redefined motherhood by sharing their personal stories about what it was like to raise children, which isn't always rosy.

Women in particular have embraced social media (blogging, Facebook, Twitter) as a means of communication, and increasingly, as a career path. You see, some of these mommy bloggers became quite influential when writing about products they liked which, of course, caught the attention of big business. Popular brands, such as Fisher Price, realized that by partnering with bloggers to sell their products, they had access to a whole new market.

So, companies send sample products to influential bloggers. Then, said bloggers write a review about said product (usually favorable) and presto! instant advertising to hundreds, even thousands of women. Moreover, some of these companies offer toys, trips and cash to blog about their products. Reviews are also often accompanied by contests and giveaways. And who doesn't like free stuff?

This is all well and good, however, there is an ethical question that arises when someone is paid by a company to write a review. Is the blogger being authentic or has she simply become a corporate mouthpiece? Women now yield immense power in the marketing of baby products with their active presence in social media. There are even women who start blogging solely for the purpose of career building, i.e. making money.

I don't know about you but I find the greatest feature of blogging is its sense of community and personal expression. Once corporate interests seep in, blogging becomes a dog and pony show and loses much of its power as a means of communication. I personally get very turned off by blogs that used to be about content, then got really popular, and are now, basically, about selling products. That's when I stop reading them.

I don't mind ads on a blog but when the content itself veers toward product reviews, contests and giveaways, it merely becomes a vehicle for selling stuff. I wouldn't trust a review knowing the writer was paid to write it. Even if they fully disclose they were paid, it's still a conflict of interest.

Corporations are rapacious and will do anything to get their greedy hands on new consumers. Do we really want them taking over the blogosphere?

I must credit the CBC (Canadian Broadcasting Corporation) - a full audio version of the documentary can be found here. I was not paid to write this.

I'm baaack...

2012-01-04T16:25:00.000-05:00

Now that I'm rested and have read numerous "best of 2011" lists, I decided I wouldn't try that formula here because, well, it's 2012 and I'm looking ahead to the future. So, here's a list of things I'd like to see make my "best of 2012" list:

1) A piece of clothing from Aritzia, Urban Outfitters or Forever 21 that doesn't fall apart at the seams. Yesterday, I had to MacGyver the seam of a sweater I got at Urban Outfitters when I noticed a gaping hole at the shoulder. So I cut a piece of ribbon into a thin strip and hand wove it through the hole, tying it all back together nicely.

Today, the fabric of another sweater (a thin one, with delicate fabric, I admit) from Forever 21 got caught on the velcro of my winter jacket, which I gently tried to extract and well, wouldn't you know it, now there are f*cking holes in both sleeves that I'll have to sew up. I understand that everything nowadays is made in China. But could China give a shit? Please? Kind of makes me long for the days when things were manufactured in my own country, by people who were paid a decent wage, treated fairly, and produced a quality product.

2) A couple from The Bachelor actually works out. One or two former Bachelorettes have been successful at finding lasting love, and one former Bachelor married his initial runner-up but there hasn't been one successful union of an original couple from The Bachelor. However, there is a disturbingly high proportion of nut jobs this season, which premiered on January 2, and it doesn't bode well for our sweet, down-to-earth Bachelor Ben.

3) The Kardashian family is deported to Siberia for crimes against humanity, and barred from access to any form of media indefinitely.

4) Someone publicly admits that Two and a Half Men isn't funny, has never been funny, and should have ended years ago. Then again, we got tiger blood out of it...

5) Anderson Cooper confirms whether or not he's gay. I would never advocate forcing anyone out of the closet but if Anderson came clean, it would finally end all this ceaseless speculation as to his true sexual orientation, and we could just focus on what's important: his hotness.

6) Remakes of highly successful films are considered "a bad idea". I've heard rumours of a Dirty Dancing remake, and I tell ya, if that shit comes to pass, I will freak out. Is there such a dearth of new ideas out there that good movies need to be ruined by remakes? Why can't we just relish the excellence of the original film and move on?

7) Our fixation on Jennifer Aniston and her "happiness" is replaced by a fixation on, oh, I don't know, cute puppies.

8) Oprah Winfrey's new TV network, OWN, avoids becoming an abject failure, and ratings improve. The mighty Opes is queen of, well, everything. I'm not ready to see her go down in flames.

9) Chumlee, of Pawn Stars fame, is named Sexiest Man Alive.

10) Toddlers and Tiaras convinces those in power that beauty pageants are tantamount to child abuse. They are subsequently banned, and all "beauty contestants" sent to inner city public schools for "reeducation".

Burnout... it's a funny thing

2011-12-21T11:18:00.000-05:00

I've decided to plagiarize myself today. For the three followers of my other blog, Oedipal Odyssey, the list below may sound somewhat familiar. For the rest of you, it'll be brand new. Haha! Tricked you. This fall has been ridiculously and awesomely productive for me. However, I've noticed lately that I'm displaying signs of burnout (may be slightly embellished for dramatic effect):

1) Hearing Christmas music at Home Depot while buying our tree made me cry (true story).

2) Someone walking too slowly in front of me on a sidewalk with no room to pass made me cry (it was that or whack them in the head with my gym bag).

3) A repeat of Modern Family when I was expecting a new episode made me cry (no one likes repeats, NO ONE. Unless it's last year's Family Guy Christmas Special.)

4) Homicidal internal dialogue because I'm convinced everyone but me is a complete idiot (self-explanatory).

5) Waking up tired (no good can come of this).

6) Don't even get me started on those SPCA commercials. (Pause) Too late...

7) Buying the box set of all five seasons of Six Feet Under because I'm convinced I can't live without them (don't judge, at least not until you've seen them. Then, you'll understand.)

I'm a little f*cked up, people. Luckily, I have a long Christmas break looming, during which I've banned myself from any form of writing. So, yeah, this blog will be idle for a couple weeks. I know, I know. How can I DO this to you? Well, the ground must lie fallow for a while. As it stands, my fields have been sucked dry by the equivalent of industrial agriculture with all its attendant nastiness.

So, for the next ten days or so, I will become a sloth-like creature, feeding on highly saturated fats and cotton candy TV, replenishing my creative juices. This can only mean one thing. In 2012, I'm gonna rock that shit.

Happy Holidays my Sassies :-)

xoxo,
Sassy Girl

They did it! They finally did it!

2011-12-14T11:21:00.000-05:00

Almost a month after it opened, I finally saw Breaking Dawn, Part 1, the fourth installment of the Twilight teen vampire saga. I'm slightly dismayed to admit that I kind of enjoyed it. Ok, maybe a little more than "kind of". Or was it the popcorn doused in extra butter after my stepdaughter found the "do-it-yourself" butter dispenser... but I digress.

I'm still convinced that if you haven't read the books and attempt to watch these movies, you'll be bored out of your mind and wonder what the big deal is. Having read them fills out the missing details which must, necessarily, be omitted from the films due to time constraints and short attention spans. That being said, apart from the first movie, which was all teenage angst and longing (I'm a longer (is that a word?) anyway, I live for that shit.), I think this one might be my favorite so far.

It was beautifully shot in lush locations and Kristen Stewart didn't annoy the crap out of me. Taylor Lautner also had some nice moments, and his shirt was on during most of the movie so I wasn't simply blinded by his ridiculously defined, smooth chest. The kid actually pulled off some decent acting. Robert Pattinson took a back seat in this installment. Apart from Stewart's character, I think Lautner had more screen time than Pattinson who was relegated to the background, looking worried (constipated) in most scenes.

There were some great special effects where Kristen Stewart's character was concerned. (SPOILER ALERT). She basically gets the life sucked out of her when she gets pregnant with a vampire/human half-breed, and they did a good job of making her look like a completely anorexic pregnant chick. It was gross, ergo, successful.

I know, I know. You're all wondering when I'll get to the good stuff - the sex. Well, it was... meh. It was obvious the sex scenes and the violent birth were edited with a PG rating in mind. They were both underwhelming. But I've been ruined by True Blood which is basically soft porn and has set the bar extremely high when it comes to on-screen supernatural being / human sex.

My girl Anna Kendrick, who's in the movie for all of 10 seconds, still manages to steal every scene she's in. Love her. So does Michael Sheen, who plays one of the Volturi (bad ass vamps) in a "secret" scene that only appears after the first set of credits at the end of the movie. So if you go see it, don't leave once the credits start rolling. Wait it out people, there's some important info in that scene that sets up the sequel.

What do we have to look forward to in the next and final installment? What I hope will be hot vampire sex since Bella (Stewart's character) finally turns into a vampire so she and Edward (Pattinson) can have unbridled, damned creature sex, and Pattinson can stop looking like he's constantly trying to take a shit.

Talkin' smack... they make it so easy

2011-12-09T11:08:00.001-05:00

Michelle Duggar miscarried her 20th child. Let's consider that a message from Mother Nature: the planet is already overpopulated - any more children from you is not a gift from God but a curse from Satan who would love nothing more than to watch humanity destroy itself. So stop poppin' out more mouths to feed. Your bulging brood is already stressing me out.

Angelina Jolie admits in an interview that she doesn't really have any female friends. She says she's pretty much homebound and only really talks to Brad. What about her brother? You know, the one she open-mouthed kissed at the Oscars? They must be close. Unless he's ticked that she only makes out with Brad now.

Jesse James recently dissed Sandra Bullock on his show American Chopper: The Build-Off, saying of his marriage to Bullock, "I became a big shot and married some Hollywood actress". Well, you can take the boy out of the trailer park but you can't take the trailer park out of the boy. He also cheated on his newest ex-fiancé, Kat Von D. Jesse, you suck. Go away.

Now that Jennifer Aniston is hooked up with Justin Theroux, apparently Pippa Middleton is the new poster girl for sad, single, filthy rich, world is at your fingertips, everyone adores you girl. Yeah, I feel really bad for her.

Kris Humphries, Kim Kardashian's ex-husband, is worried about his basketball career. His contract with the New York Nets wasn't renewed at the end of last season and he's looking for a job. Well Kris, when you go slumming, there are consequences.

Lindsay Lohan will be on the cover of Playboy. Naturally, that would be the next step for a washed up has-been with no career to speak of.

Remember Sleepless in Seattle?

2011-12-06T10:50:00.001-05:00

You know when it's been a while since you've seen a show you really love and then you watch it again, and it's even better than you remember? It's been months since we finished watching Season 4 of 30 Rock. We started Season 5 a couple days ago. "It was like coming home... only to no home I'd ever known... I was just taking her hand to help her out of a car and I knew. It was like... magic." Ok, that's a quote from Sleepless in Seattle. What? I get distracted sometimes.

Needless to say, my unrequited love affair with Tina Fey was reignited after months of dormancy. This show, there are no words for how clever, funny and smart it is. Oh, I guess there are: clever, funny and smart. Heh.

I want Tina to adopt me. Sure, I'm a grown child, and it's not the same as getting an infant, blah, blah, blah... but I promise to behave. No attempted arson or dependence on prescription meds. Nope. Not this child. Just unadulterated adoration. 24/7.

On another note, I was completely shocked and dismayed upon hearing the news of Ali and Roberto's breakup. For those not familiar with the Bachelor franchise, you may be asking yourselves: Who the f*ck are Ali and Roberto? Well, Ali was The Bachelorette, after being a contestant on Jake Pavelka's season of The Bachelor and ditching the show because she had to get back to her job (puh-lease). She was on her way to being one of the final three! Actually, I blame her abrupt departure for the whole Jake and Vienna debacle. Stupid bitch.

Anyhoo, I guess she decided that "oh-so important" job wasn't really that meaningful because she returned as The Bachelorette with her very own bevy of men to choose from. And she did. She chose Roberto. And they seemed happy. I really thought they would make it. I had hopes and dreams. And now, they're completely dashed.

They just couldn't make it work. She felt his conservative values were clashing with her need for an active social life and career. They had different interests and began to drift apart. Imagine that. You spend six weeks or so in a completely artificial environment with someone and you think you know them. Then they go all "real" on your ass once you've been kicked out of the Bachelor mansion. Unf*ckingbelievable.

Gossip Girl is full of B.S.

2011-12-02T10:44:00.001-05:00

The past few weeks have felt like a hike through a desert, barefoot, in a string bikini, with no sunblock. The desert signifying the sheer lack of good TV programming. The only shows we've been able to look forward to lately are Dexter, Hung and Modern Family (when it's not a repeat). In a week that consists of seven days, three TV shows ain't gonna cut it.

However, last night I stumbled upon a cool, refreshing oasis. 1) Season 5 of 30 Rock on DVD. 2) Season 1 of Gossip Girl, also on DVD. No, I hadn't seen one episode of Gossip Girl until last night. Yes, I occasionally live under a rock. I like it there. It's quiet and Fox News can't get a signal.

Anyhoo, there are pivotal moments in one's life, when you realize nothing will ever be quite the same, that things have somehow been forever altered. One of these moments occurred last night when I was introduced to Gossip Girl. They had me at B.S.

There are four seasons of this show on DVD. Now I know what I'll be doing over my Christmas vacation. Putting a dent in our couch, watching a marathon of Gossip Girl. I'll probably forego personal hygiene and a proper diet, in favour of greasy hair, coffee and anything with cheese in it. Eating healthy takes time, time I could dedicate to watching vacuous socialites and their petty lives.

I had lofty goals for my holiday break: read a good novel; do yoga; write. That's pretty much all shot to hell now. How can I possibly concentrate on that when there's rich bitch porn to watch? Even the boys are bitches on this show. Resistance is futile.

I've only seen two episodes but it was love at first watch. I just know it'll last forever, or until the show ends, whichever comes first.

xoxo,
Sassy Girl

Talking out of my ass

2011-11-24T09:42:00.001-05:00

I've been retardedly busy lately, people. Yes, I used the word "retardedly". I know it's not politically correct but you know what? F*ck that. It's the word that best describes my current situation. I've been writing like a fiend, working on various plays, which explains why I've only been posting about once a week on this blog.

This is not to say I don't value you, my readers. I do. But my love is proportional to your overt adoration. Like any artist. And I've been busy playing Angry Birds on my iPhone. Don't judge. Every writer needs a break, or at least a valid excuse to procrastinate.

I came across a funny article the other day. It stated that people who watch Fox News are less informed than people who don't watch the news at all. This is why I don't watch the news.

Demi Moore filed for divorce from Ashton Kutcher. I know. You're thinking: "Bitch, where have you been, that's so last week." I simply mention it because I knew this would happen. I knew it as soon as Demi posted pictures of herself on Twitter in a bikini and shades in her bathroom. Only a desperate woman, aware of her partner's wandering affections, would do such a thing.

I went shopping last week for "non-moo moo" home clothes. Home clothes are what I immediately change into when returning home from work, 'cause let's face it, tight pants and bras with underwire gotta go at some point in the day.

My boyfriend was lamenting the fact that my home clothes were somewhat... ample. I believe his words were "tent-like". So, out of the goodness of my heart, accompanied by said boyfriend, we went shopping for home clothes that actually fit, and much to his delight, were somewhat form-fitting.

The only downside is that now I continually get couch groped. I'm innocently ensconced in our couch, watching TV and the boyfriend starts groping me 'cause I got the hot home clothes now. But if I start posting photos on Twitter, positioned provocatively in my new hip-hugging sweats, you know there's trouble in paradise.

I almost got run over by a car a few weeks ago while I was cycling home. My life did not flash before my eyes. A couple weeks later, I was trying to Shazam a song on the radio while driving. I then understood why cyclists get run over by cars.

No one needs a 2.5 million dollar bra

2011-11-18T09:45:00.001-05:00

A few reasons why movements like Occupy Wall Street exist:

1 - Model Miranda Kerr will grace the catwalk in a 2.5 million dollar bra at a Victoria's Secret fashion show.

2 - The demise of Kim Kardashian's marriage is getting more media attention than both the Afghan and Iraq wars.

3 - NBA players are squabbling over their multi-million dollar salaries, refusing to play, while the unemployment rate in the US sits at approximately 10%.

These are the types of things that really irk me. Who the hell needs a 2.5 million dollar bra? I'm guessing it'll be worn once for a fashion show, then shelved or put on display somewhere, and that 2.5 million will have been an absolute waste. 2.5 million dollars that could have been invested in education, or given to a charitable organization or used to create jobs.

Everywhere I turn, there is mention of Kim Kardashian's failed marriage. Now, I'm not immune to reality TV. I watch some pretty trashy stuff on occasion. I get it. It's great mind-numbing fluff. That being said, media coverage of these so-called celebrities should not overtake actual current events.

When the vast majority of people are debating whether Kim's marriage was staged or real rather than focusing on the fiscal future of a precarious capitalist system gone awry, and the disintegration of the very social fabric that brought the US to greatness, there's a problem. That this family of vacuous bimbos rakes in millions for displaying their moronic lives on TV is simply immoral.

Then we have the NBA players. Bitching because they want to make 21 million instead of just 20 million. How much is enough? This is greed gone wild.

Chelsea Handler said it very eloquently when she appeared on Piers Morgan Tonight recently. The wealthy have a responsibility to share their good fortune with others, to help others rise up along with them, and the more you have, the greater your responsibility is to do this.

A number of celebrities have publicly stated that they would pay more taxes, following Warren Buffet's lead. However, it's up to the US government to change its tax policies so this can happen.

The Occupy movement has certainly brought the legitimate concerns of a middle class stretched too thin to the forefront of public discourse. But will it have any long lasting effects? Will regulations be put in place to govern the activities of Wall Street? Will the salaries of corporate CEOs, professional athletes and celebrities be reduced, or will they at least be required to pay their fair share of taxes? Will the US government start working for its people rather than the corporations who currently own it?

The status quo cannot continue indefinitely. For any substantive change to occur, America's citizens need to re-frame their priorities, and ask themselves some serious questions about what kind of future they want for their country.

The US is in a grossly decadent phase, much like Rome was, before it fell. History can be ignored but it doesn't change the facts. Much like the captain of the Titanic, believing his ship to be invincible, it is that very belief that will sink the US unless its citizenry vigilantly dedicates itself to taking back the country that is rightfully theirs.

Buff Buffy

2011-11-10T10:11:00.001-05:00

Take a good look at the woman in the photo below and guess how old she is...

What are you thinking? 45, 50 ish? That's Buffy Sainte-Marie and she's 70 years old. 70! This woman is my new hero. I'm determined to look that good and be in that great a shape at 70. To find out how she keeps lookin' this fine, click here.

Now, you may be wondering: who the hell is Buffy Sainte-Marie? Well, she's a Canadian Cree singer-songwriter, musician, composer, visual artist, educator, pacifist, and social activist. In other words, she kicks ass. She was even blacklisted by the Lyndon B. Johnson administration for being a vocal advocate of the peace movement.

What I love most about this photo and the accompanying article is the flouting of stereotypes about aging. For instance, there is a commonly held belief that, after a certain age, we should expect our bodies to start falling apart and resign ourselves to bad hairstyles and the use of canes and walkers. To this, I say: F*ck that! I'm in much better shape now than I ever was in my teens and twenties, and it's only gonna get better since I became a gym bitch about six months ago.

I was definitely active during my pre-gym days but adding lunch hour workouts to my current physical activity regime really upped the ante. There are signs that my body is aging but only superficial ones. I feel like I'm getting younger, and rediscovering my sense of play. My existential angst is waning with every passing year, giving way to childlike wonder.

What I also love about the photo is that, although Buffy looks f*cking amazing, she doesn't look like she's had work done. Like Meryl Streep. Yeah, we know these ladies have been around for decades and are not what is generally considered to be "young" anymore but they look great and still have an ineffable glow about them. In other words, they don't look like circus freaks desperately trying to hold on to some warped idea of youth. They seem to embrace their advancing age with verve.

I suspect the pharmaceutical and cosmetic surgery industries have a lot to gain by brainwashing people into thinking that, by a certain age, they'll need a nip and a tuck and some pills. If a man can run a marathon at 100 (it's been done, look it up), then we need to re-frame what it means to age. I, for one, will not be slowing down anytime soon. I plan to be hitting the slopes and mountain bike trails well into my nineties, if not beyond.

When are they gonna do it already?

2011-11-04T10:41:00.000-04:00

You know when you don't have sex or aren't allowed to have sex and then you obsess about it? I sense this is what's happening with our collective fixation on the sex scene in the next installment of the Twilight saga: Breaking Dawn, part I. It's all over the gossipsphere: how the film almost got an R-rating; shooting the scene; the natural chemistry between Robert Pattinson and Kristen Stewart, blah, blah, blah....

I, of course, will be seeing the film to judge for myself whether it lives up to all the hype or not. But frankly, with so much attention on it, we're being set up for disappointment. The religious undertones so evident in the books have now got everyone whipped into a frenzy over the "honeymoon" scenes. It's funny how certain prevalent religions don't really get that the more you restrict it, the more people want it, and the more twisted they get about it.

I mean, just look at the Catholic Church. Do you think all those priests started out as molesters? Probably not. But when you can't have sex and can't masturbate, you get seriously warped. Why does the Church not understand this? It's basic human nature. Or the prevalence of the naughty Catholic school girl fantasy? Come on people, this isn't rocket science.

If Bella and Edward had just done it already we wouldn't be so focused on one single moment but instead absorbed in the whole story. As it stands, the only question on anyone's mind in the movies or even reading the books is: when are they gonna do it? Everything else seems to fade into the background.

If you're not familiar with the books (SPOILER ALERT), Edward refuses to have sex with Bella until they're married, which they do, at 18. Then, miraculously, she gets knocked up, at 18, with a vampire/human hybrid. Then, at childbirth, Bella is turned into a vampire, otherwise she wouldn't have survived since her human body was ripped to shreds by her unique progeny. And they live happily ever after, having crazy awesome vampire sex for eternity.

There's that sex thing again. I'm certainly not against a healthy expression of sexuality but this Twilight thing is so obviously religious as to be offensive to us sane people. I'm not advocating unbridled promiscuity, however, the notion that one should be married before having sex is antiquated, and has caused countless untold tragedies among Catholic youth. (I cite the Catholic religion because I used to be one of its faithful followers.)

The Twilight books were some of the lamest I've ever read but they've undeniably struck a chord with legions of diehard fans fanatically defending the Edward/Bella love story. However, the very fact that this tale has so polarized its fans and naysayers leads me to believe that one should be wary of any kind of religious messaging, even when it's masked within fictional storytelling.

Occupy Hollywood

2011-10-28T11:28:00.001-04:00

As I'm sure you all know, there is a huge grassroots movement spreading throughout the US that originated in NYC, called Occupy Wall Street. I, for one, am glad to see this. The American populace is finally rising up against these shameless corporate crooks who basically bankrupted the middle class, but took their tax dollars to save their sorry asses, and are now back to making record profits, while that same middle class struggles to survive.

I read a great article on the Huffington Post by Jo Piazza stating why it's time to Occupy Hollywood and target celebrities who rake in ludicrous amounts of money for "entertaining" us. She states that most celebrities are on a higher pay scale than most CEOs, surgeons and lawyers. They are in a class all their own - the overpaid and overblown.

We, as the consumer, are not entirely innocent. No one has boycotted these celebrities in protest of their completely disproportional salaries. No one has refused to pay the thousands of dollars that people like Nicole "Snooki" Polizzi, of Jersey Shore fame now commands for speaking engagements (that's an oxymoron, if I ever heard one).

I was perturbed by the apparent dumbing down of America to the point of simply accepting that the Kardashian family rakes in millions in a single year. And for what? Airing their dirty laundry on TV? Who are these people? And why do we care?

Sure, we can probably all admit we have a secret weakness when it comes to reality television or such and such a celebrity but the reality of a growing number of Americans is forcing us (even us Canadians) to reevaluate where our values lie. We cannot simply continue within the status quo.

Michael Moore appeared for a full hour on Piers Morgan Tonight this week, along with a live studio audience. Listening to the stories of these average Americans was heartbreaking. University graduates with Masters' degrees, crushing debt and no job; middle class folk behind in their mortgage and bill payments, struggling to make ends meet; people working well into their 70s to be able to afford health care. This is more than just "not ok"; it's criminal.

There is enough wealth on this planet to feed, clothe and shelter every human being on it. Why is the equitable distribution of wealth such an unacceptable concept? What are the obscenely wealthy so afraid of? They would have much less to fear with a general population that is thriving and content.

One way this incredibly lopsided distribution of wealth will change is if the consumer changes, and demands that the entertainment industry cease to pay these ridiculous amounts of money to "stars", and adopt a more reasonable pay scale, especially for such luminaries as Kim Kardashian and Snooki. And if they don't, we'll simply boycott the celebrities.

We seem to forget, the consumer holds all the power, not the celebrity, and not the entertainment industry. Without fans, the celebrity is nothing, just another face in the crowd. It's time to wield that power, people.

Instead of paying some celebrity a gazillion dollars to appear in some mediocre Hollywood flick, how about paying them less and reinvesting the rest into creating jobs for people who desperately need them, and maybe throw in some benefits too. Is that really too much to ask?

The delinquent yogini

2011-10-21T15:08:00.000-04:00

This weekend, I'll be attending a yoga workshop with a world-renowned teacher focused on detoxification. I'm pretty excited about the whole thing but I suspect my delinquent yogini ways will be challenged.

I'm guessing there'll be discussions on healthy eating (i.e. no meat, caffeine or sugar). If I attempted to remove these things from my diet, I would be suicidal. I was once treated by a naturopath and had to completely cut out dairy, caffeine and sugar for a month. I felt great physically but I was cranky, obsessed with food and any capacity for joy had all but evaporated. That must be how supermodels feel. Now I know why Naomi Campbell throws phones at people.

Life without that sweet, warm elixir known as coffee would be, quite frankly, unbearable. The promise of that first, piping hot cup of coffee is pretty much the only thing that gets me out of bed in the morning. Call it a soothing ritual, one that enables me to face the day ahead, and gives me a cool caffeine buzz. Hells ya.

Then there's the whole meat thing. I've tried to be a vegetarian but it never felt right. Or, more precisely, I didn't feel right when not regularly consuming meat. It's like something was off kilter. I was gassy and lethargic - a lethal mix since I couldn't even run away from my own heinous farts.

Obviously, I don't condone the needless suffering of animals. Those raised for consumption should be treated in the most humane way possible. That being said, a Saturday morning without bacon is like Cher without Sonny (oh wait, they broke up, and he's dead - ok, bad analogy, but you get the drift).

I also drink, as in alcohol. I remember in my yoga teacher training, we were told drinking alcohol or consuming any substance that could alter our mood or perception of reality was like a "shortcut" to enlightenment, and by shortcut I mean "cheating". Instead of earning enlightenment through meditation, yoga and consuming only foods that purify the body, intoxicants "trick" the mind into unearned altered states. Well, I'm lazy and I like the taste of wine.

I'm sure we'll also learn some yoga sequences over the weekend that help detox the body which is good since I'll probably have bacon breath and be a bit hungover.

Say it ain't so Joe... (I don't know who Joe is, it's a saying, just roll with it)

2011-10-14T11:33:00.000-04:00

There I was, innocently perusing the Huffington Post when I came across not one, but two harrowing headlines: 1) a photo of Family Guy characters with the heading: Ending Soon? and 2) '30 Rock' may end this season. In the words of Elaine Benes, from the infamous Seinfeld episode The Contest: "Okay, you tryin' to hurt me? You tryin' to hurt me? You're tryin' to injure me, right? You're tryin' to hurt me..."

Seth MacFarlane has mentioned that there would still be a Family Guy movie every few years instead of a TV series, but still. What about those years in between movie releases? I get that TV shows have a certain shelf life, and some do pass their expiration date. However, I don't feel that Family Guy has reached that point.

I was kinda hoping it would be like the Simpsons, seemingly lasting forever. I want to say I understand where Seth is coming from, since change is inevitable and we need to embrace it but if I'm truly honest... f*ck that shit! You can't take away my weekly dose of Family Guy! What will I DO?

It's the only antidote to political correctness, right-leaning religious fanatics, impotent journalism, broken democracy and vapid entertainment. In other words, it's a necessity to true democratic discourse. It's an anthropological record of 21st Century social mores. Are those enough fancy words strung together to sound like a seriously pondered argument? Good. I have no idea what they mean but they sound intelligent.

Like that wasn't enough trauma for one day, I find out 30 Rock may be nearing its conclusion. I worship at the altar of Tina Fey. The very thought that this show might end is inconceivable. Why can't it go on indefinitely? I know Tina's had another kid, and Alec Baldwin would like to pursue other projects but c'mon people, you can't leave us in the lurch.

You can't shower us with your brilliance every week, then just walk away. That's cruel. I mean, if there were other prospects out there, 30 Rock's absence might not be such a frightening thought and, like a break-up, it's always easier when a rebound is lined up, you know? But it ain't a "great comedy" buffet out there, if you get my drift. Shows of this caliber are rare which is why we cling so obsessively to them.

If you're going to produce socially-relevant, jaw-droppingly clever, thigh-slapping, laughter-inducing material, you should resign yourself to the fact that you can never, ever quit.

Fun things to do when experiencing rage and despair

2011-10-07T11:10:00.000-04:00

I've been under some serious emotional strain lately dealing with... difficult people. It hasn't been pretty. I left half a lemon in my desk drawer instead of putting it in the fridge. I haven't been on Facebook for like, a week. My boyfriend's giving me pep talks every night. It's f*cked up. So, I've been thinking of a few things that might be fun to do and may help me feel better...

1 - get completely smashed while watching the three Twilight movies on a continuous loop

2 - write a heartfelt letter to my Member of Parliament (that's the equivalent of a Congress rep for my American readers), asking him why the sun has stopped shining in my heart, and could he please get back to me ASAP otherwise I may drown in a pool of my own tears

3 - start my own version of America's Next Top Model - I would get to be Tyra Banks.

4 - get a shirt made with New Hampshire's motto Live free or die and wear it every day

5 - drink five caffeinated Venti Starbucks lattés in a row then try to meditate

6 - switch to a bacon-only diet

7 - adopt a pet rock, adorn it with a blue rhinestone collar, name it Wilson and bring it everywhere I go

8 - eat a "family-size" bag of Cheetos in one sitting

9 - write a dissertation on the benefits of slovenliness

10 - find out how many cosmos I can drink before passing out

The one where I realize I'm a TV whore, and not a high-priced one

2011-09-30T13:36:00.000-04:00

My vampire fetish has been well documented throughout this blog, on many occasions. Therefore, it's only logical to think that any movie or TV program featuring these bloodsucking fiends would appeal to me. I would dispute this claim except that I was most recently proven wrong, again.

I think I have standards but then something happens that reminds me that, indeed, I do not. Take, for instance, my recent immersion in the teen TV drama Vampire Diaries. It's basically One Tree Hill with vampires. And like One Tree Hill, I was very skeptical at first. Watching the pilot episodes of both these shows was like slowly shoving a fork in my eye. I did not have the faith. My stepdaughter encouraged me to hang in there. So I did.

Last year, we ended up watching six seasons of One Tree Hill in five weeks. There are about 22 episodes per season, at approximately 42 minutes each. You do the math. Once I had made it past the first five or six episodes of the first season of One Tree Hill, I was lapping that shit up like nobody's business.

The same holds true for Vampire Diaries. If you have the fortitude to get past those first few episodes, and the feeling you're simply watching an Abercrombie and Fitch commercial, the storylines, albeit not overly original, suck you in. The layers start to get peeled away, one by one, and you find yourself actually looking forward to the next episode, until it dawns on you - you're hooked.

It can't be any worse than watching America's Next Top Model. Actually, it's pretty much the same show, with the addition of male actors.

Breaking Bad breakdown

2011-09-23T10:51:00.000-04:00

I'd like to think my boyfriend and I are fairly intelligent people but sometimes things happen that make me seriously doubt this. Take, for example, our attempt to watch Season 3 of Breaking Bad. It all started when we went to our nearest video rental store. They only had three of the four discs but informed us that another store had disc 1. So, we rented discs 2 through 4 and headed north to the other location and rented disc 1.

We successfully watched the first few episodes on disc 1. Then, we attempted to watch the last one but fell asleep early on and decided we would watch it at a later date. One week passes. We're headed out to run some errands and decide we should bring back disc 1 since it's overdue. Did we watch all the episodes on that disc? Somehow, we convinced ourselves that we had, and brought it back.

There was also added pressure to return these suckers. The chain of video stores we rent from was going bankrupt and would close permanently in a matter of weeks. We had to call and find out how long we had before they closed up shop and we wouldn't be able to return them and then we'd have creditors hassling us to purchase the damn discs.

A short time later, we settled in to watch the first episode on disc 2. Massive confusion. What the hell is going on? Did we miss an episode? Then, it dawned on me. Shit! We never finished the last episode on disc 1 because we fell asleep! Dammit! Highly frustrated by our lack of short term memory, we marched on, watched disc 2 and pieced together what we missed.

When we finished watching the second disc, my boyfriend put in disc 3, or so he thought. We watched all the episodes on this disc, and the last one had a great cliffhanger ending. I rushed to the DVD player to put in what I thought would be the final disc. As I removed the one we'd just watched, I looked at it in horror as I read: Disc 4, episodes 11-13. Whaaaaaaa?! How could this happen? How could we not know we skipped ONE WHOLE DISC when we were so confused after missing just one episode?

Then, I had an idea. I knew Season 4 was currently airing on TV and we had that channel on our On Demand service. OMG, we could go watch Season 4 now and find out what happened! So, we found the Breaking Bad listing, bursting with glee, only to have our dreams crushed. Only episodes 6-8 of Season 4 were listed. F*CK. We are idiots.

So, we resigned ourselves to watching the middle episodes of Season 3 that we missed. They filled in some details of the later episodes but we couldn't help but feel completely deflated by our stupidity. I mean, this is a kick-ass show, not something you want to f*ck up, you know? Now, we'll basically have to wait until Season 4 comes out on DVD, and find a new video rental store. Bollocks.

Yes, I'm a Twilight fan. Sort of. Ok! Are you happy now?

2011-09-14T12:07:00.000-04:00

Last weekend I found myself in a strange, mysterious and slightly disturbing place - the teen vampire drama universe. My stepdaughter and I were trying to figure out what mindless drivel we would watch to pass the time, and I voluntarily (key word here) suggested Twilight, which I've seen already, like, three times.

We then decided that, in preparation for the release of Breaking Dawn, Part 1, the fourth installment in this wildly popular series, we would also watch New Moon and Eclipse again, both of which I've already seen, but only once, and at the time, I felt once was more than enough.

It's interesting what happens when time passes and you watch a movie again that you thought you kinda hated and it's... better than you initially thought. I'm already predisposed to these films due to my long-standing vampire fetish but I was surprised at my new found enthusiasm for what is essentially a lame-ass retelling of vampire lore.

I still can't convince myself that Kristen Stewart can act. She's shit, any way you slice it, and to this day, I can't understand why Hollywood has convinced itself that she's a talented performer. Luckily, the rest of the cast picks up the slack, especially my beloved Anna Kendrick, scene-stealer extraordinaire. She's awesome, any way you slice it. So is Taylor Lautner's bare chest. It's a character in itself.

I did sorely miss Rachelle Lefevre, who was replaced in Eclipse due to a scheduling conflict by Bryce Dallas Howard. How those bastards at Summit Entertainment couldn't work around Rachelle's shooting schedule is beyond me, but if I had to choose between working with Dustin Hoffman and Paul Giamatti on a film based on a Mordechai Richler story and the campy Twilight saga, I'd ditch the latter as well.

Note to Robert Pattinson: hit the gym 'yo! Taylor Lautner is wiping the floor with your pasty, non-defined, skinny-ass torso. I understand your skin has to look abnormally white due to the vampiric nature of your character but that's no excuse not to get some bulk and definition. When in doubt, consult photos of True Blood's male vampire cast, most notably Stephen Moyer and Alexander Skarsgard. You should bare some resemblance to that body type to convince us of your truly irresistible vampire charm.

After having immersed myself in about six hours of Twilight saga-ness, I find myself actually excited to see the next installment, mostly because I'm curious as to how they dealt with a vampire/human sex scene and what can only be described as an incredibly unusual, violent birth. Sex and violence, that's all it really takes to lure me in. I know, how typically bourgeois.

Of course, I'm expecting some Kristen Stewart-esque bad acting but after having made us wait this long, we're finally getting to the good stuff, and they better not have f*cked it up. Of course, Breaking Dawn won't hold a candle to True Blood's sexual content but that's like comparing apples to oranges - it's a fruitless endeavour.

Vajazzle this!

2011-09-07T16:22:00.000-04:00

Is there anything more exciting than learning a new word? Yesterday, my stepdaughter introduced me to a term she heard on a new show on TLC called Big Sexy, a show about fat chicks living in New York.

In one episode, our Sex and the City plus-size cohort heads to the salon and one of them gets a bikini wax, with a twist. You see, if you'd like to add that extra layer of "sexy", you can vajazzle your vag, meaning the application of shiny, jewelery-like bits over your lady parts, on your lower abdomen.

Since it's a brand new word, I thought I'd come up with a few more definitions....

1 - Vajazzle, noun, masculin: man who drizzles giz everywhere after sex, except in your cooch; basically, a post-coital slob.

Used in a sentence: Honey, how many times do I have to tell you! My belly button is not a vagina. Why do you have to be such a vajazzle.

2 - Vajazzle, verb: a slang expression for "I'm gonna mess you up, bitch"

Used in a sentence: Touch my vintage stapler one more time, and I'm gonna vajazzle your ass!

3 - Vajazzle, adjective: inappropriate article of clothing.

Used in a sentence: That is such a vajazzle top. No one needs to see your fake boob scars, or your eerily immobile nipples, for that matter.

4 - Vajazzle, noun, feminine: woman who washes her hair too infrequently and looks like she was attacked by a vajazzle (see definition #1).

Used in a sentence: Oh honey, when was the last time you washed your hair? Don't be such a vajazzle.

5 - Vajazzle, noun, masculin: a snappy-dressing vampire.

Used in a sentence: Like, oh my God, Robert Pattinson is like, the best vajazzle EVER!

6 - Vajazzle, verb: a bejeweled varsity athlete.

Used in a sentence: Wow, it really sucks that (name has been blocked for privacy purposes) is benched again! Someone should tell her vajazzling is like, so last year.

If you've got any new definition ideas for this fabulous word, then please, share with the rest of the class...

Reality Redux

2011-08-31T15:22:00.000-04:00

Sometimes, my boyfriend and I will just be sittin' around, watchin' TV when suddenly, out of the blue, he's struck by a genius idea, or, in this case, a genius thread of ideas. He came up with some, shall we say, alternative concepts, for existing reality shows. I thought they were rather entertaining and somewhat offensive. In other words, I loved them. It would be a shame not to share...

Current show: Mantracker - a highly skilled wilderness dude chases city folk through forests and shit.

New show: Mancracker - women chase men with commitment issues through the urban jungle.

Current show: Survivor - a bunch of scantily-clad people hang out on a tropical island and try to figure out how best to vote each other off the island. The winner gets a big cash prize.

New show: Survivor-in-laws: a bunch of people kind of related to you but not really hang out in your house and you try to figure out how best to get them the hell out. Instead of money, you get your house back.

Current show: Love it or list it - couples decide if the home they currently own is best for them, and determine what they would need in a new home, if they decided to sell. They must then choose between renovating or selling.

New show: Love it or f*ck it: men decide if they really like a girl, or just want to f*ck her.

Current show: Holmes on homes - Mike Holmes, a very knowledgeable contractor dude helps out couples who've had bad-ass renos done by douchebag, sub-par contractors.

New show: Holmes on homos: Mike Holmes, a very knowledgeable contractor dude helps out gay couples who've had bad-ass renos done by douchebag, sub-par contractors.

Current show: My first place - the show follows first-time buyers and their realtors as they navigate the hell that is purchasing your first home.

New show: My first race - follows the transformation of people who have apparently switched races (think Michael Jackson: his first race was African American, his second was apparently an attempt at being Caucasian).

Why my boyfriend is not a highly successful TV executive is a mystery to me... that shit is GOLD.

She lives no longer...

2011-08-26T15:11:00.002-04:00

It seems my beloved feline companion, Phoebe, ran out of lives. She never completely recovered from that respiratory infection / chronic kidney failure combo she had a couple weeks ago so we decided to put her down last Friday. She could no longer jump up on furniture or chase a fly, her quality of life had plummeted. She was a walking corpse.

However, her mental acuity never waned, not for a moment, and that's what made this decision so difficult. Mentally, she was still all there but her body just couldn't keep up. And I couldn't watch my once feisty, active cat wither away and watch life instead of participating in it.

Not gonna lie, it was f*cking sad. The worse part is that I knew it was coming. When we put Phoebe's brother down a couple years ago, it was the same day we made the decision. He was in a very bad way and I felt we needed to act immediately. I could not watch my little cuddle bunny suffer any longer. However, with Phoebe, she didn't seem to be in any great physical agony, despite being very weak and emaciated due to her kidney condition.

So we scheduled her appointment, and had to wait two days since that's when our vet would next be in. It was perhaps the longest, most agonizing two days ever. But it did give me the time to cuddle with Phoebe one last time, brush her and make sure she had a yummy meal before we took her in. Our vet was amazing and the staff at the clinic very sensitive to our situation. Considering the sad nature of the event, it couldn't have gone any better.

My boyfriend and I stayed with her to the very end. As with her brother, I had this strange feeling that, on some level, Phoebe knew what was going to happen, and was ok with it. She looked at me one last time, without a trace of panic or fear, as if to say it was ok, she understood. Then, within a matter of seconds, she was gone.

We decided to donate Phoebe's things to our local SPCA since we don't plan on having more pets for a few years. That visit was very heartening. We returned twice since we had forgotten some things the first time around, and on our second visit, some of Phoebe's toys were already out for the shelter's cats to play with.

I also noticed how these cats were brimming with energy and vitality, and when I picked up one especially enthusiastic young cat and lovingly held her, I was astounded by her energy, weight and healthy plumpness. It was then that I truly realized how sick my cat had been and that we had made the right decision.

It's still strange to come home to a pet-free house. It's quiet and very clean. I suspect we'll have more cats in the future but for now, I'll let myself heal from this loss. It's astounding how quickly those little furry creatures get under your skin and into your heart.

Goodbye my sweet little girl cat.

Plastic bimbosity busted

2011-08-22T23:38:00.000-04:00

There are many reasons why I love Kate Winslet. She's a crazy talented actress, smart, beautiful, funny, etc... and she, along with Rachel Weisz and Emma Thompson, have founded the British Anti-Cosmetic Surgery League, promoting the idea of aging naturally, without plastic surgery.

It's nice to get a breath of fresh sanity every once in a while. 'Cause seriously, this plastic surgery thing has gotten way out of hand. I watched an episode of the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills a while back and was astounded by the utterly homogenous appearance of these women.

Blonde, tanned, fake boobs, oversized lips, immobilized faces. It was obvious each of these women had had a number of cosmetic "enhancements" and frankly, these did nothing to boost their looks. Circus freaks. That's the first thing I thought of when I saw them.

Why do women think this is beautiful? Or that we should all look the same? If you're working in an industry that basically forces you to undergo cosmetic procedures to keep looking young, to stay "competitive", maybe you should reconsider what you do for a living. And if you feel compelled to go under the knife to retain the affections of a distracted lover, maybe it's time to take the trash to the curb, if you get my drift.

Most of the incredibly talented female actresses that come to my mind are natural beauties, untouched by a plastic surgeon's scalpel or needle: Meryl Streep, Julianne Moore, Kate Winslet, Emma Thompson. These are beautiful women, each having their own, unique features. And I remember them clearly. I can tell them apart. They've retained their distinguishing traits, in favour of accepting the body's natural aging process, rather than trying to retard it, and end up looking like, well, a retard.

Barbie was meant to remain a plastic doll, not become the yardstick by which women measure their proximity to some warped perception of perfection. That false idea of "perfection" was lovingly planted within us at a tender age, watered and tended to by a plethora of corporations who make their money from our self-hatred. Who the f*ck is in charge here anyway?

Never underestimate a good ending

2011-08-15T16:17:00.000-04:00

This past week, my boyfriend and I started watching the first season of Breaking Bad. I know, we're a little behind the curve on this one. Season 4 has already started airing and Season 5 has been confirmed, although it will be the show's final season. This already makes me sad and I haven't even started watching Season 2.

I had no idea how extensive Bryan Cranston's acting career has been. I just remembered him as Dr. Tim Whatley, a memorable reoccurring role on Seinfeld. It's a testament to his acting chops and natural charisma that he stood out in a show on which he only occasionally guest starred. He is, of course, sublime as Walter White, the title character in Breaking Bad.

I always wish that truly great TV shows could go on forever even though it's been proven time and again that nothing lasts forever and even good things must come to an end. This got me thinking of good TV endings and bad TV endings. So I thought I'd draw up a list. 'Cause everyone loves lists.

Great ending: Seinfeld

Seinfeld ran for nine glorious seasons and when it was announced that it would end, I was beside myself. How could this show end? It was at the top of its game. There had to be more stories about nothing. I couldn't fathom TV without Seinfeld.

But to this day, I thank Jerry Seinfeld for deciding to go out on top, leaving us wanting more. Even the "reunion show" assembled for the seventh season of Curb Your Enthusiasm was great and didn't tarnish in any way the original show. It was pitch perfect.

Bad ending: Friends

As much as I loved this show, it should have ended after nine seasons. The tenth was basically a prolonged goodbye episode that sucked the life out of the show. It's like Friends took itself too seriously and got a little too narcissistic towards the end. It left a bitter taste in my mouth. It's as if the show was saying to its viewers "OMG, you are SO gonna miss me! What will you DO when we're off the air?" Umm, change the channel and see what else is on, that's what.

Great ending: Cheers

This beloved, long-running show was one of my faves. In 11 seasons, it never lost its gusto, and the last episode was appropriately touching, a perfect ending to a phenomenal run. Despite some major casting changes (Kirstey Alley replacing Shelley Long; Woody Harrelson stepping in for Nicholas Colasanto), this show thrived on an incredible ensemble cast and supporting characters. It will be remembered with much love and affection.

Bad ending: Roseanne

It pains me to put this show in the "bad ending" category since its first few seasons were rock solid. Relevant, bold storylines, great writing and lovable characters. However, this show lost its way well before it actually ended after nine seasons. One major mistake was to recast the role of Becky (originally played by Lecy Goranson, Sarah Chalke took over the role in Season 6; Lecy came back in Season 8 only to be replaced by Sarah once again in Season 9).

Recasting is not always a death sentence for a show (see Cheers above). However, recasting someone in the SAME role will kill the show, either quickly, or in this case, over four seasons. Once that was done, I just couldn't buy it anymore. Sarah Chalke is amazing in Scrubs and has some real comedic talent but Lecy was, and always will be, Becky.

I don't mind shows taking creative risks but the surreal nature of the final season just didn't resonate with me, and I suspect, with many other viewers as well, since Roseanne's rating plummeted from #1 in Season 2 to #35 in Season 9. This show got off to a great start but in the end, crashed and burned.

Great ending: Buffy the Vampire Slayer

After seven incredible seasons, how does one end Buffy the Vampire Slayer? Not to worry, Joss Whedon was on the job. The finale was everything we could have possibly hoped for, and for a show that could get pretty dark due to its subject matter, it ended on a very positive and inspiring note. A fitting end to such a formidable show.

Bad ending: Angel

We can't blame Joss Whedon for this one. Rumour has it he was informed midway through the fifth season that the show would not be renewed, so some major adjustments needed to be made to wrap up Angel much sooner than expected. And that's exactly the feeling I got watching the last half of the final season. The ending left me feeling empty, like it wasn't the proper ending. Something about it just felt... wrong. Kinda like the TV executives who decided to cancel this show well before its time.

Hollywood's generosity knows no bounds

2011-08-11T11:52:00.000-04:00

It seems the world, as we know it, is crumbling around us. The US is up shit creek without a paddle and now Europe is buckling under the weight of its debt. So, I was a little peeved when those annoyingly plastic Entertainment Tonight hosts (say what you will, no one beats the dynamic duo that was John Tesh and Mary Hart) were talking about Hollywood heavyweights taking a "pay cut" for their TV gigs.

Let's see if I remember this correctly... Ashton Kutcher is making $700,000 per episode for Two and a Half Men, making him the highest paid TV actor. Ashton Kutcher. Highest paid TV actor. WTF? Then we have Tim Allen, Ted Danson and Keifer Sutherland making something like $250,00 or so an episode on their shows. Man, that is rough. What a sacrifice.

What does a school teacher make? Approximately $30,000 a year or something? Or a nurse? Or a police officer? Or a firefighter? Or a soldier? I couldn't help but be somewhat disgusted by the gaping abyss that separates the ridiculously wealthy from the rest of us.

It's a slap in the face to say that these actors are taking a "pay cut". They're still grossly overpaid. Like corporate CEOs. Who needs that much money? When is enough, enough? The French had a little thing they resorted to called "une révolution" when their royalty got a little too greedy. The middle class rose up and started chopping off aristocratic heads. Don't think it can't happen again. London is burning. People are pissed.

Sure, the middle class has been complacent, much to its own detriment, and still doesn't seem upset enough to mobilize on a grand scale and throw corporate fat cats out on their asses. Which they could do, if they wanted to. But if things keep going the way they are, and the circus side show continues in Washington, the middle class will keep getting squeezed until they snap. I suspect, however, they'll have moved past the guillotine.

And if there's any sure sign that the US is in decline, it's Katie Holmes guest judging on So You Think You Can Dance. I'm sorry, there's just NO excuse for that.

She lives!

2011-08-07T12:46:00.001-04:00

Before I get to the story behind this post's title, I want to talk a bit about the wonderful game of golf. I never thought I'd be one of "those" people, you know, golfers. It was a little too hoity-toity, a little too mainstream for this artsy rebel. Well, I've basically sold out and don't have the energy anymore to be rebellious so I've taken up golf.

If there's anything I've learned so far it's that this game requires emotional fortitude because right now, I suck at it. My best game so far was actually my first game this season. From there, I got progressively worse. You'd think it would be the opposite. But as our golf instructor told us, golf is very counter-intuitive. I guess it's also counter-progressive too.

It's the kind of sport you absolutely adore when things are going well. You feel accomplished and capable as you relish the natural beauty of the golf course. You feel you belong. However, when things start to go south, and you've lost your mojo, it becomes one of the most demoralizing exercises in perseverance. Gone is the sense of accomplishment, only to be replaced by utter despair and anger and it's almost as if you expect the golf police to come by and throw you off the course. "Come back when you can hit a straight shot, you flunky!", you imagine them saying.

However, I'm not one to cower when faced with a hefty challenge and I will master this game. That pesky little white ball will bend to my will and I will be victorious. Mark my words, I WILL be victorious.

And now for something completely different.... (thank you Monty Python)

You know when you wake up in the morning and you go into your living room and find your cat sprawled on the floor, and you pet her a couple times but she doesn't move and it looks like she's not breathing and for a split second you think she's dead and your heart starts to pound and tears start rolling down your cheeks and then suddenly her little head perks up and she looks at you as if you've lost your marbles?

Well, that's what happened to me the other morning. You see, I have an old cat with a chronic kidney condition. She hadn't eaten in about a day, was quite lethargic and things were looking dire. Hence the immediate assumption that she may have passed away on my living room floor.

However, Phoebe was still alive. So we called the vet and brought her in. Apparently, she had contracted a respiratory infection which was unrelated to her kidney condition. The vet gave her some subcutaneous fluids, a shot of antibiotics and got her to eat. If all went well, she would be better within about three days. It's about day two and a half and my cat seems to be on the mend. Yes, she still has her chronic kidney condition but she's perked up and is eating again. She's a tough old bird and is presently relaxing on our backyard deck.

Being faced with a cherished pet's mortality is not pleasant. I had to put Phoebe's brother down almost two years ago and it was one of the most difficult, heart-wrenching things I've ever had to do. However, Phoebe seems to have cheated death, at least for now, and my heart has been put back together.

Little Blackie - In memoriam

2011-07-27T16:41:00.000-04:00

A few days ago, my boyfriend and I were watching True Grit (the Cohen brothers' remake) and I noticed something peculiar. (Spoiler alert!) Towards the end of the movie, the young girl's horse is forced to run to the very end of its physical capabilities in order to save her life, collapses and is subsequently shot by Jeff Bridges' character.

I was beside myself. I told my boyfriend they should have called this movie Little Blackie, after the horse. Then it dawned on me. I was more upset about animals being hurt than humans. Sure, a few criminals in the movie got shot and one guy had his fingers chopped off but hey, that's how it was in the wild, wild west.

But aim a gun at a horse's head and I'm apoplectic. That is an outrage, I say, an outrage! How could he DO that! What is wrong with people!

It reminds me of those Humane Society commercials where they show all these sad, abandoned and/or abused animals. If I even catch a glimpse of one of those animals, tears well up in my eyes and a lump forms in my throat.

One time, I actually watched a whole story on one of the animals they rescued - a sweet dog that had been neglected and abused. He didn't make it but in his final moments, he was surrounded by love. I lost my shit, people. I was reduced to a sobbing, blubbering mess.

Mistreatment or violence involving animals = instant fury and most probably tears. Mistreatment or violence involving humans = Meh. Depends who it is. Depends on the situation. Somehow that just doesn't seem right to me. Shouldn't I care more about humans than animals?

Maybe it's because animals are usually so much cuter than humans. They're furry and cuddly. Maybe it's because humans tend to piss me off. Animals, not so much. And who hasn't cried watching Old Yeller? Ok, I haven't actually seen the movie but I know what happens which is why I can't watch it.

I did cry when (spoiler alert!) Nate died on Six Feet Under. However, I suspect there was a much deeper, philosophical disturbance going on there due to the show's brilliant exploration of life and death and what it all means, and the fact that I had watched about six episodes consecutively. Damn you Alan Ball, and your crazy talent!

I also cried when (spoiler alert!) Buffy's mom died in Season 5 of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. In a show littered with supernatural deaths, the passing of Buffy's mom of natural causes was in stark contrast to the show's usual fare and was portrayed so poignantly and realistically. Damn you Joss Whedon, and your crazy talent!

Huh. I guess I do care about humans, sometimes...

Fun with CNN Souvenirs - Episode 6

2011-07-21T11:20:00.000-04:00

If you're not familiar with this cutting edge series, you can catch up on earlier episodes before diving into this new one (it's a most excellent way to procrastinate if there's something you need to do but don't really want to. Just sayin'.):

Episode 1, Episode 2, Episode 3, Episode 4, Episode 5

**These episodes are solely a product of my own imagination. Any resemblance whatsoever to actual events is purely coincidental.

Soledad: This is far from over Sassy.

Me: Is that a threat?

Soledad: You bet your ass it is, you bitch. You will suffer as I have suffered. Maybe even worse.

Me: I didn't realize the public ridicule would be so far reaching.

Soledad: Oh please. Don't play dumb with me. I Facebook creeped you. I know you leaked the fashion show fiasco story to anyone who would listen.

Me: You deserved it, blackmailing Anderson the way you did. You got beat at your own game and you didn't like it. It's not so much fun being on the other side, is it?

Soledad: Your problem is that you underestimate me. I never get beat. Never.

Me: Suck it up Princess. You didn't get the information you wanted from Sanjay and now I know what you so desperately tried to pry out of him using my husband. And I must say, I look f*cking fabulous after a few weeks on Sanjay's all-chocolate diet. Don't you think?

Soledad: So smug. I've done some research on you.

Me: Facebook stalking hardly qualifies as research.

Soledad: Oh, that was just the tip of the iceberg. I have contacts. People who owe me favours. And I found out a very interesting fact about you. You're deathly afraid of cats.

Me (turning ashen): That's ridiculous.

Soledad: Is it? The colour seems to have drained from your face. I'd say I'm onto something.

Me: I'd say you're reading into things and are gravely mistaken.

Soledad: Oh really. Well, why don't we put that theory to the test (Soledad reaches into a large tote bag and pulls out...)

Me (utterly frightened but trying to hide it)

Soledad: Would you like to hold her?

Me (hesitating): Sure. (Soledad places the cat on my lap.)

Soledad: Oooh, I think she likes you. That's good because I bought her for you. You can take her home with you.

Me: How... thoughtful of you.

Soledad: I know. Now, don't be shy. You can pet her.

Me (with beads of sweat forming at my brow, I slowly place my hand on the cat and begin stroking it)

Soledad: It's a match made in heaven.

Me: It sure is. I... I adore her.

Soledad: Are you sure? You don't seem convinced.

Me: Of course I'm sure.

Soledad: It's just that... you don't look so good.

Me: I'm fine. Really. (Paralyzed with fear, I pass out.)

Soledad: Now I have you right where I want you. It's payback time bitch.

What will Soledad do to me? Will Anderson and Sanjay come to my rescue? Find out on the next episode of Fun with CNN Souvenirs.

I should be on A&E's "Intervention"

2011-07-18T16:39:00.001-04:00

There are times when the sheer depth of my addiction to television is exposed and I am shamed, shamed to my core.

Yesterday, we were invited by some close friends of ours to dinner and a movie. My immediate response: "Yeah, we're down for dinner but, um, there's a new episode of True Blood airing tonight so, I think we'll skip the movie." My boyfriend then gives me a look, and kindly points out that we get True Blood on demand and can watch said episode anytime after it airs.

Good point... So I tell our friends that yes, indeed, we will join them for dinner and a movie. Then, I hang up the phone and realize what a douchebag I've become. Really? True Blood over hangin' out with friends? I mean, REALLY? I immediately felt shame welling up from the deep recesses of my cold, cold heart. How could I even think that?

So, I surrendered to the fact that I would not see the newest episode of True Blood when it aired but rather at a later date of our choosing on our On Demand service, and we would have a social life instead.

Our outing was great fun. We decided to go to a matinee and have dinner afterwards. We went to see the new Harry Potter movie (great if you've read the books, if not, meh. It may be confusing.) We were then joined by another good friend and proceeded to have a lovely dinner at a great restaurant.

However, towards the end of dinner, my boyfriend mentions that we have a window, albeit brief, in which to get home in time for True Blood. Whaaaaa? Did he realize what he had just set in motion? I then became obsessed with the time. We had about half an hour to get back to our car, which was about a ten to fifteen minute walk away, drive home, another say, 10 minutes, throw ourselves onto the couch and turn on the TV.

We were about halfway to the parking lot, when I looked back and saw our friends walking all romantic like and, well, SLOWLY. (We were all headed towards the same parking lot.) So, I turned to my boyfriend and said: "Let's say goodbye now and make a run for it. Otherwise, we'll never make it in time." I was really thinking of my friends and not wanting to intrude on their lovely, romantic evening stroll (said the addict to herself to rationalize the fact that she's an asshole).

We said our goodbyes and, luckily, our friends have a sense of humour and are very understanding. We then turned around and started running through downtown Ottawa. There I was, dashing across city streets in high heels, determined to make it home in time.

When I finally sat down on our couch, True Blood's theme song was playing and I was in my happy place. Once the show was over, however, I couldn't help but ask myself if I was close to hitting rock bottom. I was chasing a high like a hooker on payday. It wasn't pretty. There is definitely something wrong with me. Normal people don't act this way.

Errant ramblings of an idle mind

2011-07-12T11:48:00.002-04:00

Why is it that two Brits and one Canadian are judging contestants on America's Got Talent?

Why did some lame-brained studio executive agree to a remake of Dallas? It's a classic that shouldn't be tinkered with, and no cliffhanger will ever top the "Who shot J.R." storyline. Ever.

Miranda Kerr (Orlando Bloom's baby mama) states " I thought I would die giving birth." And people ask me why I don't want children.

Headline: "Mila Kunis in panties in GQ, talking sexism in Hollywood". Does anyone else see what's wrong with this statement?

Apparently, Katie Holmes would like to see Kate Middleton wear some pieces from her new Holmes & Yang clothing collection.

Katie, if you want to dress the future Queen of England, learn how to dress yourself first.

That is all.

Summer = gluttonous IQ lowering reality TV watching

2011-07-07T15:44:00.001-04:00

Well, it's that time of year again... summer. Which is synonymous with watching really bad (meaning really good) reality TV. 'Cause there ain't much on during the summer months. Except for True Blood (shiver of delight) and Weeds (which we don't get on our On Demand service which makes me crazy 'cause then we have to wait for the DVD to come out 'cause we don't like to watch it once it hits Canadian TV 'cause of all the freakin' commercials... but I digress.)

So, to fill in those prime time TV watching hours, my boyfriend, stepdaughter and I latch on to such distinctive fare as The Bachelorette, which will be followed by Bachelor Pad, Toddlers and Tiaras (it's child abuse, but we can't look away. Why, I ask, why?), Love in the Wild (a hybrid of Survivor and Bachelor/Bachelorette), Pregnant in Heels (about a "pregnancy concierge" servicing Manhattan's upper crust knocked up ladies, Say Yes to the Dress and Say Yes to the Dress - Big Bliss (Big Bliss = fat girls).

I know, you're amazed at the sheer quality of programming in which we indulge. So are we. We learn so much from these shows. For example, on The Bachelorette, we've learned that Ashley's instincts are total shit and she shouldn't listen to them. She immediately fell for this douchebag named Bentley. (Who names their kid after luggage?)

That Ashley couldn't see past Bentley's smooth-talkin' bullshit was alarming. He even left the show voluntarily because he wasn't attracted to Ashley and had no interest in pursuing her. Of course, when he told her he was leaving, he lied about his true motives and said he needed to be with his daughter, but whatever, we were just happy to see him go.

Except it didn't end there. Ashley just couldn't let go of the possibility of hooking up with Bentley at some point because he had left things kind of "open" and it was tainting all her dates with the remaining guys, who are all pretty great, as far as we know. So, they brought Bentley back so Ashley could confront him once and for all. He still couldn't be honest with her but at least this time she gave him the boot. Hopefully, she'll stay on the straight and narrow and finally give the other guys a chance.

I've already expressed my views on Toddlers and Tiaras here. Nothing has changed. Except that I can't stop myself from watching this show, and that scares me.

Love in the Wild is just plain funny because it puts men and women who've just met in these crazy, jungle adventure situations where their patience and good humour is put to the test. Following the day's wilderness exploits, each new couple has to spend the night together in a cabin. Bow-chicka-bow-bow.

Then, at elimination, the couple who won the jungle challenge is safe. They can choose to stay together or pick another partner. If they choose someone else, that person can't refuse. The other couples who came in second and beyond have the same choice, except they can be refused if they choose to switch partners, and if they are, must go to the "unmatched" area and hope someone else picks them. The last two remaining are eliminated. It's all very complex and sophisticated.

Pregnant in Heels depicts the life of Rosie Pope, pregnancy concierge to well-off Manhattanites. I was expecting something a little more frivolous, a little more vain but this show has surprised me. Some of Rosie's clients are over the top, needing some serious parenting themselves but others have legitimate issues around pregnancy and becoming a mother, and Rosie helps them address their fears prior to the birth of their child. The best part of this show is Rosie's gay stylist. Any gayer than that, and you would burst into flames. He is awesome.

Say Yes to the Dress reminds me that when people are planning a wedding, they're not in their right mind. It's a form of insanity. Obsessed with finding that "perfect" dress, spending thousands of dollars on a garment they'll wear for a few hours. Bringing their critical friends and family along. It makes no sense to me. It is, however, entertaining. Other people's nuttiness is truly captivating.

I'd say we'll be watching better TV in the fall, but who am I kidding? I think we're always subconsciously looking to lower the bar even further. 'Cause we're cool like that.

Royal Wedding Fever - Part Trois

2011-07-04T16:44:00.000-04:00

Shortly after Wills and Kate tied the knot in jolly old England, we Canadian commoners found out that the Duke and Duchess would be making their first trip abroad to... wait for it.... Canada! And better yet, their first stop would be in.... Ottawa! Canada's Capital! And most importantly, WHERE I LIVE. Young, attractive British royalty in my 'hood yo!

Needless to say, I was deliriously happy with this news. I thought to myself: "We must prepare, prepare to Royal chase". That would mean some serious crowd surfing since the newlyweds would be in Ottawa on Canada Day, the only day of the year that Ottawa is a "hip" city and there's a huge street party downtown. And by huge, I mean tens of thousands of people show up. It then reverts back to its dull, civil servant laden self. Not that I don't love where I live, but I know Ottawa ain't one of the cool kids, if you get my drift...

Wills and Kate were scheduled to arrive at 2 pm on June 30 at the Ottawa airport, which happened without a hitch. Then they would make two public appearances in downtown Ottawa. However, I was stuck in a meeting all day. Imagine this, if you will. I was in an office building not 10 minutes away from their first public appearance at a war memorial. That hurts people. It cuts to the bone.

To add salt to the wound, my boyfriend and stepdaughter were free to go to the estate of the Governor General (the site of the Royals' next public appearance) where William would make his first speech to the Canadian people. Jealous much? You know it. My stepdaughter has photos, PHOTOS of William and Kate! And I was NOT THERE! Because I was WORKING! But I digress...

The next day, July 1st, was Canada Day, one of those rare days when Canadians get all patriotic and shit. We love our country but we have trouble showing it. Except on Canada Day. Then we're all like, "Hells ya! This country rocks!"

It's a national holiday so I was off for the day and free to hunt for a Royals sighting. We decided to head downtown for the noon show, an event William and Kate would be attending. We squeezed in a bit of shopping beforehand (what can I say, there's a mall on the way), then headed towards Parliament Hill around 11:45 am.

It was a mad house. There were people everywhere. It was a hot, sunny day. Sweat was beginning to form at my brow. We got down to business and dove into some serious crowd surfing. At this point, I would have been content to watch the show from the huge monitor set up for spectators on the street where we were located, just East of Parliament Hill. I assumed the Royals were already there.

But the closer we got to our intended destination, the more it dawned on me. We're walking along the street that Wills and Kate would have been traveling on, in an open carriage, on their way to the noon show. And they haven't come by yet. HOLY SHIT. Suddenly, there was a possibility we could see them IN PERSON.

We walked a bit further, then staked out a spot behind a few rows of people. We couldn't see much except for the tops of people's heads and outstretched arms holding cameras. And this is why I have the best boyfriend in the world - he offered to hold me up on his back so I could get a better view. He is awesome.

I did indeed get a much better visual. First, the security detail, a succession of sinister looking black cars with tinted windows came up the street. Hmm. Ok. That's cool. Then nothing. Then, more sinister looking black cars with tinted windows. Then nothing. I gave my boyfriend a break and jumped back down to my feet. Then, shortly thereafter, he tells me I'd better jump back on. Something big is coming.

Sure enough, a legion of RCMP officers in official uniform on their horses turn the corner and come up the street, and then.... at first I only saw her red fascinator but I knew - I knew it was Kate. I lost all sense of decorum and started screaming: "Oh my God!". The horse driven carriage made its way up the street and at one point, Kate looked right at us as she smiled and waved and we cheered.

I don't have a photo since I cannot multitask. Fumbling with a camera while trying to seize the moment would have ended in disaster, I'm sure. We do however have my stepdaughter's photos and videos from the previous day to commemorate their visit. If I ask her nicely, maybe she'll share one with me and I can post it here.

I don't know why we're so fascinated with the British Royal Family but I was caught up in the excitement of it all, and to be in such close proximity of widely known people (celebrities, really) was a crazy rush. And just in case you were wondering, they look exactly as they do on TV and in print. Simply gorgeous.

Dirty, cheatin' ho = famous

2011-06-28T11:51:00.001-04:00

My boyfriend and I were watching TV the other night and someone mentioned the name Steve Nash. A big question mark appeared on my face and my boyfriend looked at me and said, "You know, Steve Nash. The Canadian NBA player." "Huh?" I responded. My boyfriend was in disbelief.

Apparently, this Steve Nash guy is a highly successful NBA player. Who knew? Then it dawned on me. I don't know him because he hasn't been at the centre of some scandal. He hasn't been exposed as a dirty, cheatin' ho so I had no idea who he was.

Mention the name Tiger Woods and, well, there's immediate recognition. Unfortunately, it's no longer for his prowess on the golf course. Or Magic Johnson. Although Magic has certainly redeemed himself over the years, the announcement that he was HIV positive and that this was most probably due to multiple sexual partners pretty much overshadowed his stellar NBA career.

Or Kobe Bryant. I wouldn't have a clue who this guy is if he hadn't been accused of sexual assault.

It's a bit sad really. If you're simply a formidable athlete with a great career and a relatively normal life, you could go virtually unnoticed in the media and no one would really know who you are. But misbehave in a most shameful manner and everyone knows your name.

Of course, this trend applies to any type of celebrity, not only athletes. Anyone caught doing stupid shit is immediately catapulted to worldwide fame, or should I say infamy. The point is, those who stick in our collective consciousness are usually the ones who have irrevocably marred their reputation due to bad behaviour.

This is somewhat disturbing considering we deify celebrities. These are our "heroes", the people we idolize and look up to. But why do we place these people on a pedestal? Because they can aptly dunk a ball in a basket or have their pretty face plastered on promotional material?

I admit, I'm just as celebrity obsessed as any other (although I now consider it research for this blog. What can I say, I'm a pro at rationalizing my addictions). However, on occasion, I do ask myself where our values lie and if they're not misplaced. Why is an athlete making millions while a school teacher is barely making a living?

Why are people like Kim Kardashian and Lindsay Lohan filling up magazine pages and airwaves while humanitarian crises barely get a mention? I mean, how important is Kim's latest boyfriend or Lindsay's most recent brush with the law? It's f*cked up.

That being said, I spent last night watching The Bachelorette with rapt attention. In case you thought I was thumbing my nose at our collectively low standards. It's just food for thought, people. Food for thought.

Errant ramblings of the newly Jewish

2011-06-24T11:16:00.000-04:00

Sidebar to my previous post: I tell my mother about my life-altering realization, that we're Jewish and all, and she calmly replies: "Oh yeah, I've been asked if I was Jewish before." Silence. "What!", I reply. All this time, she's basically kept my true identity from me. I'll be sending her my therapy bills.

And now, on to today's post...

Christopher Lloyd vs. Christopher Lloyd

For quite a few years now, I've thought that Christopher Lloyd, the actor, was also the highly successful screenwriter and producer by the same name. I thought to myself : "Wow, this guy is so low key, quietly producing hit shows like Frasier and Wings and co-creating Modern Family." He's a freakin' genius, and oh so humble about it.

You remember Christopher Lloyd right? Of Taxi and Back to the Future fame? Here's a little refresher:

Well, it turns out, they're two different people with the same name. All this time, I thought this guy was acting, writing and producing. Then I Wikied him and discovered that no, he's not the screenwriter / producer dude. He is indeed an actor and still working steadily but he's not the Hollywood powerhouse I had envisioned in my mind.

Of course, I don't want to tarnish Christopher Lloyd, the actor, or belittle him because he's not quite who I thought he was. He's a talented and successful performer. But I really cherished the thought of this crazy-haired dude also writing and producing some of TV's most memorable shows. Alas, it was not meant to be. There is another Christopher Lloyd and my world has been forever altered.

Designer Deliveries

What's with celebrity starlets and their C-sections? It's like the designer brand of deliveries. Are vaginal births just, like, so passé? What are you saving your cooch for? The casting couch? Can't these ladies afford, oh, I don't know, a snatch tightening procedure after theirs has been stretched all to hell?

Not that I encourage frivolous plastic surgery and there are some disturbing trends in labia rejuvenation and such. I just don't know that it's necessarily better to have your gut slit open and your uterus temporarily ripped out of your body to extract a new human being.

I mean, you can still be all skinny and shit with a loose snatch. Apart from your lover, who's gonna know? And I'm sure it's just temporary if you're dedicated to a daily routine of Kegel exercises. You'll get that tight cooch back in no time, minus the abdominal scar.

It used to be that C-sections were an emergency procedure in case of very problematic births. Now it's trendy to "schedule" your child's birth and name it after some inanimate object. Go figure.

Fresh bowls

It's a small detail but one that brings me joy every single time I encounter it. A fresh bowl in a public bathroom. The seat is still up and no one's used it since it was last cleaned. Ahhhh. One of life's simple pleasures that never fails to delight me.

'Cause, let me tell ya, the public washroom here at the office can get pretty scuzzy. Personally, I don't understand how someone can NOT notice a huge splotch of menstrual blood they've left behind on the seat, or a chunk of vomit or droplets of urine. This leads me to think most people were raised by wolves. Wait, I like wolves. Let's go with... hyenas.

So when I come across a fresh bowl, all shiny and clean, it really makes my day.

OMG, I'm Jewish!

2011-06-20T11:06:00.000-04:00

Yesterday started out like any other day. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, I had my yoga pants on backwards while teaching a class ('cause I'm cool like that) and I discovered I'm Jewish.

Let me explain. I've always had what one might call a "prominent" nose. It has a certain curvature to it that's hard to miss. I was laughed at as a kid and have often felt self conscious about my schnoz. It's a family trait from my mother's side that I inherited. Case in point:

So, yesterday my boyfriend and I attended a Jewish / Catholic wedding. I know. You're thinking: "How is this possible?" It was also multilingual (English, French and Hebrew). I live in Canada. This kind of stuff happens all the time. But I digress. The ceremony was presided over by a female Jewish rabbi, or priestess or whatever they're called in the Jewish tradition.

She was fabulous. Funny, classy, warm, beautiful, with the voice of an angel and a nose... like mine. I know, it's not politically correct to point out that Jewish noses are quite unique and easily recognized. But it's nevertheless true - it's a distinguishing feature of these fine people.

It was during this lovely ceremony, while watching this remarkable Jewess that it hit me - OMG, I'm Jewish. These are my people! No wonder I bailed on the Catholic Church - it was all wrong, like an ill-fitting dress.

Now I have to figure out how to break the news to my French Canadian Catholic mother. It shouldn't be too difficult since she's pretty much abandoned the Catholic thing too. See, on some level, she knows too.

I've decided that I'll need to do a full on search of my family history. I mean, how many French Canadian Jewish folks are out there? Actually, there could be quite a few. I really don't know much on the subject but I'm excited to find out.

However, if I decide to adopt the Jewish faith, I can't give up Christmas. If there's anything my Christian faith has taught me it's that those few weeks in December devoted to rabid consumerism, impossibly high expectations and superficial, awkward family shindigs are a must.

Bag of rusty nails > Paris Hilton

2011-06-08T16:16:00.001-04:00

Funniest headline ever: "Paris Hilton Blames Network for Bad Ratings", found on Popeater.

I can think of a few reasons why a show featuring Paris Hilton wouldn't get good ratings...

Paris is famous for being famous. And she garnered her fame after (surprise!) a sex tape of her and an old boyfriend mysteriously appeared on the Internet.

Let's face facts here, Ms. Hilton, shall we? You're a talentless twat. You got famous because you got naked in front of a camera.

I saw you on Piers Morgan the other night with your mommy, bemoaning the fact that there's a sex tape out there with you in it, and how your life will never be the same and how one day your grandchildren will see this tape because it's all over the Internet, and OMG, the shame! The shame! (Publicity stunt for your failing show perhaps? Hmm?)

You claim you were "betrayed" by your former boyfriend and that the tape got out without your consent? Honey, as soon as you decide to do anything ON TAPE, including things you wouldn't ever want your grandchildren to see, there's a strong possibility that, at some point in the future, someone other than you or your ex-boyfriend will see it, unless it's promptly destroyed.

I get it. You're a has-been. Yesterday's news. So, like, two years ago. And now you're getting desperate, for attention, that is.

Newsflash sweetheart: No one cares who you're dating, what parties you're hosting or what kind of mindless drivel some hapless TV network let you produce. You suck, and now it's catching up with you. You're some made-up barbie who sounds like a complete moron every time you speak. You're an embarrassment to women in general. You represent all that is superficial and lame.

And now your time in the spotlight is running out and you want to blame someone else? Well tough shit princess. We're sick of you and your dull debutante culture. If you have any shred of intelligence, now would be the time to showcase it 'cause pretty has taken you as far as it can.

If I were into chicks...

2011-06-06T11:29:00.001-04:00

Last summer, my boyfriend had the brilliant idea of listening to books on tape, or disc or whatever while we were on fairly long road trips. If you pick the right books, this is an excellent way to pass the time during a prolonged vehicular journey. We were recently on one of these aventures de la route and carefully chose our selection of audio books.

First up, Chelsea Handler's My Horizontal Life. As I'm sure you've guessed, it's about her sexual adventures, and there are lots and lots and lots of them. Unfortunately, Chelsea herself doesn't narrate the book but after a couple chapters, the actress who was seemed to adopt the same intonations as Chelsea and it was believable.

When it comes to Chelsea Handler, it was love at first sight. The first time I saw her was in a YouTube video on a celebrity gossip site. She was interviewing Jenny McCarthy and they were dissing Paris Hilton. It was one of the funniest, most irreverent interviews I had ever seen. I was immediately smitten. Who is this Chelsea person and why haven't I heard of her?

I then found out she had a TV program called Chelsea Lately which was a full half hour of irreverence. I liked this girl. She had attitude, was completely silly, and didn't seem to take herself too seriously.

A few weeks ago, I got a full hour of Chelsea on Piers Morgan Tonight and the bewitching was complete. Not only was she funny, but this chick was smart as a whip too. Smart, hot and funny. If I were into chicks, I'd want to sleep with Chelsea. But I'd want to marry Tina....

Which brings me to our second audio book, Tina Fey's Bossypants. I don't even know where to start. It was so f*cking good. Funny, sweet, heart-warming, clever, intelligent. This woman, I love her. She touches on various topics from her childhood to Saturday Night Live to 30 Rock to motherhood with her unique gift of being so goddamn entertaining.

Tina herself narrates the audio book which makes it that much sweeter. It's like having a conversation with her, albeit one way only, but still. It's like she was in our car, regaling us with her many captivating tales. Wow... that sounds really corny, but I can't help myself. When it comes to Tina, I gush. I think if I ever met her in person, I might pee my pants. But I'm willing to chance it since our destiny is to be BFFLs (said the crazy, obsessed fan).

I'm not really obsessed but Tina and I are destined to be soul sisters. Just sayin'.

No honey, it's called Gigolos and it's a cable TV show, not porn.

2011-06-01T15:34:00.001-04:00

The other night I had to kill some time since my boyfriend and stepdaughter were busy with non-TV related activities. So I perused my On-demand options and decided to give Showtime's Gigolos a try. I had read a brief article about the program and how it consisted of a good, honest look at this small group of upscale male prostitutes in Las Vegas.

How could I not be intrigued?

So, I plunged in and watched the first episode. It went something like this: Ok, so far everything seems pretty normal. A camera follows these hot dudes around as they talk about their lives and their work. Oh, one of them is meeting a client. Ok, cool. That's kind of interesting. Oh holy Moses, everyone's naked and having sex, in front of the cameras. Ok, so that's how it's gonna be. Alright. I'm down with it.

The program also aptly shows the camaraderie among this group of five men, who treat each other as brothers and really have each other's back. It's sweet, and warmed the cockles of my cold, cold heart.

What I did notice after a few episodes was that the sex sequences all seemed eerily similar. The guys pound away like a hammer to a nail, and the chicks all make the same sex sounds and pretty much say the same things. I started to wonder if I was actually watching porn. 'Cause it was getting that cheesy.

I mean, the clients who somehow agreed to be on camera while having sex with male escorts (WTF?) were a pretty diverse group of women but after about three episodes, I could barely tell them apart. Once the action started, it sounded something like this, every time: Ooh, yeah, that's it, harder, ooh, oh, I'm gonna come. End scene.

There were no crazy ass screamers or quiet, intense types. Just your standard porn soundtrack types. Except for that one who was honing her dominatrix skills. But I digress.

Then, there's this episode where one of them wants to come clean and tell his college buds about his unconventional career choice. The guys are all having a conversation about how they don't talk about what they do, and that their friends and family don't know how they make their living. Ummm, well, now you're ON TV. Secret's out boys.

It's an intriguing premise, and I haven't quite finished watching all the episodes yet, which I plan to do, in the name of anthropological research. (You would too and you know it.) The irony is that the sex is the least interesting part of this show. The guys' individual stories are far more captivating than watching them bang yet another gal.

And finally, a note to the director(s): when it comes to those sex scenes, mix it up a bit 'cause everyone knows that porn sex isn't real sex. It's the stinky cheese of sex on tape. Go for something a little more authentic. Homemade is better than highly processed.

Our communal ass seems to be getting tighter

2011-05-26T13:26:00.006-04:00

I've been noticing a somewhat disturbing trend as of late - a rising wave of moral conservatism, and most distressingly, in younger generations than my own.

To be fair, it doesn't take much for me to consider something conservative. My personal heroes are all people who push the envelope. They're rude, crude and hysterically funny. They're also incredibly intelligent and highly successful. For example, Seth MacFarlane, Chelsea Handler, Sarah Silverman, Bill Maher, etc... You get the idea.

Fairly recently I was admonished for a somewhat rude, yet very true statement. I found this quite odd indeed. Why so serious? I was simply stating a fact, only in a more entertaining manner. I try to be very respectful of other people's values and beliefs, and as much as possible, refrain from telling them they're full of shit and OMG would they chill the f*ck out already.

Here's my theory: any dummy can be morally or politically conservative - it's easy because you simply adopt other people's beliefs and don't ask any questions. Satirists, libertines and outcasts are usually highly astute, courageous people who constantly challenge the status quo. They don't take all the ideas they were fed as children to be fact. They sift through them, ask questions as to their validity, and if these ideas don't stand up to interrogation, they're tossed aside to make room for new, possibly better ideas.

Take, for instance, Family Guy. Is it offensive? Well, that depends on who you talk to but for the sake of this argument let's say that yes, it is. However, its insolence is its most powerful tool, encapsulating legitimate social commentary. To really "get" a show like Family Guy, you need to be a fairly well-rounded, shrewd person. A broad knowledge of pop culture also helps. It's not a program for the dumb and dogmatic who simply think it's some irrelevant cartoon with fart jokes or the devil incarnate.

Conservative folks, in general, also seem to have an inability to laugh at themselves, hence their abhorrence of fart jokes or any humourous allusion to other not-so-pleasant bodily functions, sex, religion or morally charged issues like abortion. As the French say: "Il faut rire pour ne pas pleurer." We must laugh so as not to cry.

It seems as if humour, especially "offensive" humour, is perceived as a lower, unsophisticated form of expression, when in reality, it takes on some very heady issues without blinking instead of side stepping topics that may, heaven forbid, cause some controversy.

One should also keep in mind that arrogant, morally inflexible people tend to be the worst offenders behind closed doors. Like Catholic priests, for example. Instead of airing their dirty laundry and having a public debate about contentious issues, they deny their questionable actions and the urges that led to them, and present a totally false image. Instead of trying to fully understand the human animal, they prefer to simply sit in the dark and wank to porn, not wanting to know why they're sitting in the dark, wanking to porn and probably feeling guilty about it.

Having been raised Catholic, I received the full brunt of guilt-laden messaging so pervasive in that religion. I learned that I was inherently bad, that my body was bad, that sex was bad and should only be had to procreate, and that my life should basically be dedicated to preparing for an eternal life in heaven. In other words, don't enjoy your earthly life too much you useless sack of shit.

I don't know about you but I find fault in this kind of thinking. I'm shacked up with my boyfriend, have no plans to marry and don't want kids of my own. According to the Catholic Church, I shouldn't ever have sex because it's not for procreation, and I'm not married but living with a man, so I'm basically going to burn in the hungry fires of hell. To which I say: Great! 'Cause really, are there any fun people in heaven? I doubt it.

As George Carlin and many famous philosophers and thinkers have said: "Question everything." In other words, don't ever consider anything as truth until you've tested it out for yourself. And if it doesn't hold up, it's probably bullshit.

To conclude, some classic Carlin:

Oh Ahhh-nold. You won't be back. Not if Maria has anything to say about it.

2011-05-24T15:06:00.000-04:00

Ok, was anyone really surprised that Ahhh-nold fathered a child out of wedlock? I mean, come on, there were complaints of sexual harassment by some of his female co-stars on movie sets years ago.

And let's face it, if you're a Kennedy, like Maria Shriver, you're destined for tragedy. I mean, if I were her, I'd look at it this way: at least I wasn't shot in the head or killed in a plane crash.

Now Maria's hired a P.I. to dig into Arnold's past as she prepares for divorce proceedings. There are rumours of other children out of wedlock and Maria wants to know exactly what her philandering husband's been up to.

I didn't even bat an eyelash when I found out about this fiasco, and I got to thinking (no good can ever come of this, but I do it anyway) how tragic it is that I'm not in the least surprised about this most hurtful indiscretion. I would even label my reaction as almost apathetic.

Are we so accustomed to bad behaviour that it's become commonplace? Like "Oh, that's too bad about his heinous deception, pass the Cheetos."

Or perhaps a sly smile appears on our face as yet again, something crummy has happened to rich and/or famous people - people we assume are happier than we are because they're rich and/or famous, and we glean some joy from their misery.

Personally, I feel bad for Maria. It blows that she married such a douche. She deserves better. So I've conducted my own investigation and have come up with additional individuals I believe may be Arnold's out of wedlock love children:

Stephen Dorff: Daddy?

Yes. Doh! I mean, who are you?

Brigitte Nielsen: Daddy?

Ok, you were WAY before Maria, you don't count.

Prince Harry: Daddy? Oh, wait, wrong paternity suit.

Dolph Lundgren: Daddy?

You're actually Brigitte's half brother. Sorry about that.

The French have a word for it...

2011-05-17T12:42:00.000-04:00

I recently read a newspaper article about a French magazine called l'Égoïste. The editor's tastes are so discerning, it's only been published about 17 times since 1977 because one single publication takes years to produce. A single copy of this saught-after magazine costs about $47. A new edition was recently published and sold out almost immediately since only a limited number of copies are printed.

This is something I love about the French. Yes, I'm generalizing. No, not all French people are like this... They love the finer things in life and don't apologize for being elitist.

They also drink wine over two hour lunches, smoke, eat fatty foods all the while staying thin and are impossibly fashionable, even in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. They are incredibly sensual, love sex and are not ashamed to admit it.

They're a wonderful contrast to our incredibly dull, tight-ass Western puritanical work ethic and views on sex. A two-hour lunch? How DARE you! Get back to your cubicle worker bee! Eating white bread baguette and fat-laden, yummy cheeses? You carb-eating criminal! Bloody, crazy violence in a movie? No problem. Explicit, loving sex scenes? Eeewwwwww. Slap an NC-17 rating on that! It's unacceptable!

The French would never have impeached a President for lying about getting a blow job from an intern but they probably would have if he'd lied to justify invading a country without a valid reason or international support, and started a fictitious war, killing thousands. But I digress.

The French also remind me of a more general European "joie de vivre" that is simply absent in North America. We work too hard and don't remember how to relax and have fun. We're made to feel guilty if we don't "tow the line" and work, work, work! Come in early, skip lunch, leave late, work from home. Wake up in forty years and wonder where your life went. Keel over of a massive heart attack six months after retiring 'cause you didn't kick back and play hard.

Europeans, in general, are just as productive as we are. So why are we slowly killing ourselves while they're indulging in an afternoon siesta?

One should never underestimate the healing power of a leisurely lunch or a fine Brie. And just as the editor of l'Égoïste makes no apologies for forcing her devout readers to wait years for a new edition, we should make no apologies for seeking out pleasure and being un peu égoïste.

Not getting shanked in your sleep has many advantages

2011-05-13T16:08:00.000-04:00

This past Mother's Day, I awoke, like any other weekend morning, and got up to make a pot of coffee. My boyfriend sees this and says: "What are you doin'?" To which I reply: "Goin' to make some coffee". To which he replies "Maybe you should go down in the basement first." Then I thought: Is that where stepmothers have to go on Mother's Day? but my actual reply was "Oh, ok." My boyfriend, seeing my hesitation at being banished to the basement, tells me there's a surprise down there for me.

So I'm all like: "Oooohhh, I love surprises!" I head down to the ~~dungeon~~ basement, look around for a bit and don't see anything out of the ordinary. Then, as I turn and look under the stairs, a brand new set of golf clubs, with tees and balls is sitting there innocently. And everything is PINK. To say that I love pink would be an understatement. That I now have pink golf clubs makes my life complete.

But it didn't end there. My stepdaughter made me this beautiful card, and coupons for free hugs and homemade pasta dinners and other cool stuff. I was completely taken by surprise. I mean, I'm just glad my stepdaughter hasn't murdered me in my sleep. Anything beyond that is simply icing on the cake.

Being a stepmother is a strange and fascinating thing. I'm not a mom per se, I'm more of an older female person that my boyfriend's kids can hang out with. A hip, young aunt if you will. (YES, I'm still young, you know, down with the homies and shit. Ok, I have no idea what that means but it sounds like something a young person would say). But I digress.

There's really no social language for step-parents, no clear designations. We're basically navigating in uncharted territory, hoping for the best.

No one ever expects or aspires to be a step-parent. It's one of those things in life that always appears to be a scary prospect, wrought with difficulty. But I've learned that within that hard shell exterior lies a beautiful, shiny pearl. (I have a heart. Who knew?)

I always told myself I wanted to live an unconventional life. I didn't know what shape it would take but my wish was granted and I definitely got something singular and rare.

Then there are days like last Sunday, days that make me realize I've somehow made a positive contribution to a young person's life, despite the lack of blood relations. And it's in those moments that I know I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be.

Assis talkitis: when one talks out of one's ass to the detriment of humanity

2011-05-11T15:04:00.000-04:00

So check this out.... Sean Avery, a notoriously bratty, pain in the ass, annoys the crap out of everyone NHL hockey player has publicly stated that he supports gay marriage and got bashed for it by some sports agent dude.

Sean is apparently quite the fashionista, has been spotted at independent film and hip music festivals and his friends consist of artists, musicians, actresses and models. Ok, those last two are endemic to any professional athlete's life, but artists? musicians? Tres impressive. The guy has other interests besides chasing a puck around and beating up other guys on a slippery surface.

He appears in a video campaign for New Yorkers for Marriage Equality along with some other celebs. Apparently, it's quite rare for professional athletes to publicly support gay or lesbian causes. So, kudos to you Sean for having some balls and coming out, in a manner of speaking.

So this sports agent dude, Todd Reynolds, tweets that he's all against gay marriage and shit. Some excerpts from his tweets: "Very sad to read Sean Avery's misguided support of same-gender 'marriage'". He goes on to say: "This is not hatred or bigotry towards gays. It is not intolerance in any way, shape or form. I believe we are all equal. But I believe in the sanctity of marriage between one man and one woman. This is my personal viewpoint. I do not hate anyone."

Umm, yeah. I don't know whether to laugh or try to find this guy and punch him in the head. Not hatred or bigotry? That's EXACTLY what it is! It's like saying people of different races shouldn't marry. WTF?

And throwing the "sanctity" of marriage in there? Really, are you gonna keep flogging that dead horse? Would you invest in a stock with a 50% failure rate? 'Cause that's how well "marriage" is doing these days. Not great odds.

But to deny anyone the opportunity to be miserable in a crappy marriage, that ain't cool. Dude says he believes "we are all equal". Clearly, he DOES NOT. Being against gay marriage is basically saying heterosexuals are better than homosexuals and only they should have the opportunity to make their love legal.

Frankly, if there's one group of people who don't know how to get their shit together when it comes to relationships, it's heterosexuals. So why should they get first dibs on walking down the aisle?

I think people are confusing religious dogma and reality. The truth is that marriage is a legally binding union between two people. Period.

This whole "Oh, it's got to be between a man and a woman" bullshit has to go. It's based on some archaic religious belief that the sole purpose of marriage is to procreate. Well, the planet's already overpopulated folks. We don't need no more babies. So it's time to redefine what marriage means in the 21st Century, minus the completely irrational religious overtones.

Facebook fame whoring

2011-05-06T11:35:00.001-04:00

My stepdaughter and I were talking recently about Facebook. Due to a federal election here in Canada, there were some heated exchanges between our right-leaning and left-leaning family members, and a knock 'em down, drag 'em out blow-out occurred right there in the comments section.

It definitely made for some interesting reading. Then, my stepdaughter started to outline ways in which people violate tasteful Facebook etiquette:

1) the "status updaters": those who apparently have no life and want to constantly advertise this fact to all their Facebook friends. A sampling of lame status updates: Just got up... what should I have for breakfast? You know what? No one really cares what you have for breakfast. Just eat and shut up about it already. In line at the grocery store. Wow, really? Now that is exciting. Tell me more! Boo... rain again! No one cares about the weather unless a natural disaster is occurring and you're in the middle of it.

2) the "photo uploaders": it's all well and good to post photos on Facebook but there are some who abuse the privilege and are constantly posting inane photos of themselves. Ooh, here's me shopping. Really? Are you shopping for a vibrator or a dominatrix outfit? No? Then we don't care! Ahh, here's me in a bikini in my bathroom, with sunglasses on. Oh wait. That was Demi Moore on Twitter. But still, LAME.

3) the "likers": these people will "Like" anything anyone posts on Facebook, from saving the planet by using old newspapers as toilet tissue to denying that climate change exists. It's ok to have taste, people. Just because it's posted on Facebook, doesn't mean it's legit or worthy of recognition.

Personally, my Facebook activities are driven by one goal: to make all my Friends and Friends of Friends envious of my fabulous life. So I try to limit my status updates to stuff that's uncommon or funny, and I pretty much only upload photos of trips I've taken so people can see what a cosmopolitan life I lead.

Of course, everything is highly edited and any bad photos of me are never uploaded. It's like I'm my own publicist. One could argue that this isn't a true representation of my life. And they would be right.

I mean, do I really want people to know that sometimes these would be my status updates: I'm having a f*cking shitty day and am developing homicidal tendencies towards my coworkers or I'm having menstrual cramps from hell and want to rip out my uterus or, my personal favourite, Life seems to have lost all meaning. Why am I here?

I find it ironic that my natural tendency on Facebook is to do the very same thing as celebrity spin doctors and hide my flaws in order to present a polished version of myself that will be acceptable to my audience. On the other hand, one could say I'm focusing on the positive aspects of my life, and what's so wrong with that?

Facebook has tremendous power as a tool for social change and communication. There's no doubt about that. I guess it's like anything, its tendency to be good or bad is all in how you use it. Although I suspect Facebook has turned me into a bit of a fame whore.

By the way, if you enjoy this blog, "Like" me bitches!

Royal Wedding Fever - Part Deux

2011-05-02T11:24:00.000-04:00

So... me, of the non-morning person persuasion, got my ass out of bed at 5 am last Friday morning to witness history in the making - the royal wedding of Prince William and Catherine Middleton. I must say, the hour leading up to the wedding was far more exciting and interesting than the ceremony itself. It's like the arrivals on the red carpet before an awards show - way more fun than the actual awards ceremony.

Once the vows were done and yet more singing of boring hymns had begun, I felt myself fading and needing a nap before having to get up, once again, to go to work. Even the guests attending the wedding looked bored, including the bride and groom at certain moments, so I didn't feel so bad for baling halfway through the ceremony in favour of sleep.

Of course, whatever I missed I was able to catch in highlights offered by practically every news channel, and TLC, which surprisingly, had the best commentary, in my opinion. Those Say Yes to the Dress dudes were hilarious and Rupert Everett's comments on people's wedding outfits and those silly hats were spot on. He pulled no punches and I laughed heartily.

Of course, these types of events always spark a bit of an obsession with the Royal Family which television is so quick to address. We watched specials on the evolution of William and Kate's relationship, on comparisons of Diana and Kate, on how Harry is now the hot, new bachelor every girl has her eye on, despite having a long-term, on-again, off-again girlfriend.

I also did a bit of research on the question of Harry's paternity - there are persistent rumours that James Hewitt, a formerly handsome redhead and ex-lover of Diana's is actually Harry's father.

Upon further examination of photos and articles online - a trustworthy source if ever there was one to determine someone's paternity, I've deduced that Charles is indeed Harry's father. I used to firmly believe that Hewitt was Harry's daddy but, following my in-depth research, I'm now convinced Harry is Charles' son. It's all in the facial features which resemble Charles more than Hewitt, and apparently red hair is also a Spencer family trait.

My stepdaughter has decided that she will marry Prince Harry. I support her in this endeavour. Sure, she's 12 years younger than Harry but I can only see that as an advantage. He's a bit of a wild child and when he's finally ready to settle down, my stepdaughter will be in her prime child bearing years, able to produce a spare to the heir. And we'll get to hang with the Royals. It's a win-win situation.

Royal Wedding Fever

2011-04-28T17:03:00.001-04:00

I'd like to think I'll be all nonchalant and shit about tomorrow's royal nuptials but really, who am I kidding? I'll be glued to CNN like a bitch in heat to someone's unwitting leg. It's madness, it's mayhem, it's the world gone gaga for an epic fairy tale, again.

However, this time around, I suspect the event will be much more grounded in reality than Charles and Diana's wedding 30 years ago. For one thing, William and Kate have been together for nearly a decade, and have weathered their share of storms, be it break-ups or intense paparazzi scrutiny.

And probably most importantly, they love each other, not someone else, as in Prince Charles' case. I don't get the feeling William was pressured into anything. I think he truly loves Kate and wants to marry her, and kudos to Kate for having the balls to officially join the Royal Family. I mean, you're basically signing your life away, and agreeing to wear questionable head gear to public events.

Crazed fans have already been camped outside Westminster Abbey for a few days now, and the media is laying siege to London like the plague. I vaguely remember Charles and Diana's wedding but I do clearly recall getting a sense that it was a momentous occasion, despite its very public and painful unraveling.

What is it about a royal wedding, or more specifically, about the wedding of a future King of England, that has the world so entranced? Is it because it's one of those rare moments when the world comes together to celebrate a happy occasion instead of a sad or tragic one? Is it perhaps our enduring belief in fairy tales and happy endings? Or is it because it's the opposite of disaster porn, which I guess would be celebrity porn, although in Charlie Sheen's case, the two are synonymous.

Fun with CNN Souvenirs - Episode 5

2011-04-26T14:08:00.000-04:00

Episode 1, Episode 2, Episode 3, Episode 4

**These episodes are solely a product of my own imagination. Any resemblance whatsoever to actual events is purely coincidental.

Me: I know about you and Sanjay.

Anderson: Of course you do, you set us up.

Me: Andy, baby, you know what I mean. I know you two are sleeping together.

Sanjay: I think it's more than that.

Me: Is it, Andy? Are you in love with Sanjay?

Anderson: I thought I might be. But then, when Sanjay told me about his Prada deal with you, and I found out what kind of sacrifice you were making for me, for us, I don't know, things changed.

Sanjay: But things were so... intense between us. Are you denying that?

Anderson: I'm not but... I love my wife. I really do.

Sanjay: And I'm caught in the middle. On one hand, I have a Prada wholesale hook-up and on the other, a hot news anchor. It's like being caught between a rock and a hard place.

Anderson: Let me make it easier for you. I choose my wife.

Sanjay: Wow. It's like you didn't even have to think about it. Didn't any of it mean anything to you?

Anderson: Of course it did, I'm not some heartless bastard. But I didn't have all the information. Now I do. Sure, Sassy can be a bitch sometimes.

Me: Hey!

Anderson: Well, it's true.

Me: Yeah, I guess you're right.

Anderson: But she's also the craziest, hottest, tightest piece of ass I've ever had.

Sanjay: You really know how to make a guy feel special.

Anderson: Sanjay, you were there for me when I needed someone, when Sassy couldn't be, because of her depression. Hey, um, that's done by the way, right?

Me: Oh yeah.

Anderson: Ok good. As I was saying, you were there when I needed you.

Sanjay: And now you want to discard me like yesterday's trash.

Anderson: You know that's not true. Don't vilify me because you're angry and feeling rejected.

Sanjay: Don't patronize me. I love you.

Anderson: I thought I loved you to.

Me: Boys, stop. There's no reason we can't resolve this. We're three extraordinarily attractive people. Obviously, we all care about each other. So why not show it? Together? The three of us?

Anderson: Are you saying what I think you're saying?

Sanjay: Yes, she is.

Me: So, what do you say boys? How's about you and you and me take this to the bedroom?

Anderson: I love you.

Me: I love you too.

Sanjay: I love you three.

Anderson: Wait! What are we going to do about Soledad? You're not safe as long as she's out there.

Me: Let me worry about that. Right now I've got bigger fish to fry.

Anderson: I love it when you talk dirty. Sanjay, come on.

Sanjay: No need to ask me twice.

Will Soledad exact her revenge on me for the fundraiser fashion show fiasco? Will Sanjay remain content sharing Anderson with me? Find out on the next episode of Fun with CNN Souvenirs.

It's like a horrific accident... I can't look away.

2011-04-21T13:43:00.000-04:00

So... apparently Brad Womack (a.k.a the latest Bachelor on The Bachelor) and his chosen one, Emily Maynard, have split for good - she left him, a mere four or five months after they got together. Emily was all set to move to Austin with her daughter to be with Brad but then, things fell apart... again.

Oh yes, they had broken up once before, then got back together to face the cameras for their After the final rose special. It was apparent then that these two had no chance. Physically awkward with each other and whispering "I love you" before statements like " I'm not sure I'm ready to marry Brad" = recipe for disaster.

There was also a segment on the special that included bringing back successful Bachelor couples to "counsel" Brad and Emily on how to get through this "rough" period when the show actually airs and one member of the new couple has to watch the other make out with and declare "strong feelings" for a bevy of other very attractive men or women.

Apparently, Emily has had the most trouble in Bachelor history "adjusting" to this period immediately following the end of her cloistered, idyllic romance with Brad and the airing of his shenanigans with other bodacious babes.

Yeah, reality kind of sucks like that. It's ironic that this type of program is dubbed "reality TV" since nothing could be further from it. Hence, the incredibly high failure rate of Bachelor couples to tough it out in the real world once the show is over.

Interestingly, the Bachelorettes seem to fare better than their male counterparts. I wish I had a theory as to why but I really don't. Is it because women are much cattier and have more trouble getting over the fact that the guy who asked "Will you marry me?" may also have slept with other women just days earlier? Is it because the Bachelorettes tend to think with their hearts instead of their vaginas, and therefore pick a more suitable mate?

Then there are jerk-offs like Jake Pavelka who were on the show simply to become famous. I mean, Jake is now filming a reality series with some Jersey Housewife and Heidi Montag. Please. I'm convinced he picked the notorious, unanimously reviled Vienna simply for ratings, and it worked. Congratulations Jake on your most excellent fame whoring. Well done.

Apparently, Brad Womack has a "temper" which was one of the reasons why Emily dumped him. I'm thinking the show's producers may have known that Brad was emotionally "fragile" so why cast him AGAIN on The Bachelor?

Oh yes, this was his SECOND time on the show as the Bachelor. He had a first chance and f*cked it up. And, he has a temper. There should have been no second chances. I'm guessing the powers that be thought it would be good for ratings. Ah Hollywood, it's all about the bottom line, isn't it.

Brad stated that one of his fears, the second time around, was falling for a woman who wouldn't love him back. Well, I guess that turned out to be a self-fulfilling prophecy. He should have picked Shawntel, a gorgeous, intelligent, emotionally stable funeral director. Then again, Shawntel deserves better. In the end, she dodged a bullet.

It's been proven, although quite rarely, that this formula can work to find a mate. Trista, the first ever Bachelorette and her pick Ryan, have been together for seven years and have two kids. But, for the most part, what follows a season of the Bachelor / Bachelorette are disastrous couplings that crash faster than Charlie Sheen in rehab.

Of course, I'm counting down the days until the next season of The Bachelorette premieres in May, followed by the second season of a spin-off show, The Bachelor Pad, this summer. It's anthropological research. That's my story and I'm stickin' to it.

Brad: See how I'm touching your arm with my finger? That means I like you.

Emily: See how my stiff stance indicates that I may be a frigid bitch? That means you're not good enough for me.

The hockey widow and fairweather fan

2011-04-18T16:26:00.000-04:00

Yes, my dearest Sassies, it's that time of year again - the NHL playoffs are in full swing, and my boyfriend's all-time favorite team, the Montreal Canadiens are in their first 2011 playoff series against the Boston Bruins, a rivalry fraught with tense history.

My boyfriend, unlike myself, is a loyal hockey fan. As soon as the season starts, he relishes watching his Canadiens in action. I, on the other hand, sigh heavily and wonder what else is on. That is, until playoff season. I had no interest in the first game of the Montreal/Boston series. Then, I displayed mild interest in the second game. And the more the Canadiens advance, the more ardent my fervour as one of their greatest fairweather fans.

You see, I invest no time or emotion in this team until they get to the playoffs. I don't know if it's because suddenly, the stakes are higher or maybe it's because playoffs feel like a regular hockey season on crack. Senses are sharpened, emotions are heightened. It's some crazy-ass shit.

Like last year, the Canadiens, clearly the underdogs and not expected to go very far in post-season play, knocked out the two top ranked teams in their division (Washington and Pittsburgh) much to everyone's surprise, but ended up losing their series against Philadelphia. It was some of the most exciting TV viewing in recent memory. I was all over that shit.

Now Montreal is leading their series 2-0 against Boston and there's a game on tonight. I'm actually kind of excited about it. Like, I might actually watch it. Also, the game's not expected to interfere with new episodes of Nurse Jackie and United States of Tara, starting at 10 pm tonight. I have my priorities.

The "hockey widow" is a common term here in Canada since most wives/girlfriends/partners of rabid hockey fans pretty much lose their partner's attention as long as said partner's favorite team is in the playoffs.

To give my American readers an idea of how important hockey is to Canadians, a national leaders' televised debate was recently rescheduled because it would coincide with a Montreal/Boston playoff game. You see, we're in the midst of a federal election here, kind of like when you guys vote for a new President, but in Canada, even federal politics takes a back seat to the NHL. 'Cause that's how we roll.

Tyra, why you gotta bullshit me sister?

2011-04-14T11:36:00.000-04:00

Last night, I had a tiny TV orgasm. Why, you ask? Because I got to watch two hours of America's Next Top Model - last week's episode via On Demand since I missed it, followed by this week's new episode, then a new episode of Modern Family, followed by the premiere of Happy Endings, a promising new comedy. I can't remember the last time I had three solid hours of awesomeness on TV. Life is good.

So, back to America's Next Top Model since, like, oh my God, there was so much DRAMA. So, this girl Alexandria, who thinks she's all that, and is kind of an arrogant bitch in the house, is convincing everyone else, i.e. Tyra and the judges, that she's just the best person/model ever.

Then, on a photo shoot, this other contestant, Brittani, is talking to the other girls saying how Alexandria shouldn't have won the latest challenge (being featured in a "fight breast cancer" ad campaign) because she's such a fake ho, and Alexandria's all like " I heard that!", and Brittani's all like, "Well it's true! We all wanted you to go home last week!" and it's a bitchfest smackdown. Little did they know that one of the judges, Nigel Barker, witnessed the whole thing.

Then, during the judging panel, Nigel just had to bring it to everyone's attention, then Brittani lost her shit, and there was crying and gnashing of teeth and panic attacks and a contrite return before the judges. Tyra gets all sanctimonious and shit, telling Brittani she was totally unprofessional and should never have done what she did while on the job, especially not in front of clients.

So, Alexandria comes out looking like the poor, hapless victim and Brittani is admonished to no end by Tyra, and told that if Tyra had the final word, she'd be gone. Ouch. Except that Brittani has better photos than Alexandria, and Tyra was outvoted by the other judges, including Nigel, to keep Brittani, and Alexandria has previously gotten in shit, more than once, for telling people what to do on set. How soon Tyra forgets...

But it's the fashion industry people. Of course fake will overrule authentic. Even Tyra was singing the praises of "faking it" in front of clients, like if you're having a bad day, you have to pretend you're not. You gotta put on your happy face and your big girl panties. Except that there are tremendously successful models who are known to be, at times, totally out of control bitches.

Take, for example, Naomi Campbell, who, on numerous occasions, has been known to have tantrums and throw shit at people. Clients are still booking her. Or Kate Moss, who was caught, then exposed on the front page of a British newspaper doing coke. Yep, she's still modeling. I wonder why Tyra didn't mention that.

Let's face it, if models sell shit, they'll get booked, irregardless of their behaviour. If anything, notoriety will raise their celebrity status, not tarnish it. I mean, look at Charlie Sheen. It's the same in the modeling industry.

Tyra can pontificate all she wants but bad girl models have proven they can be just as successful, if not more so, than those who tow the line. And frankly, Brittani is a superior model. So she'd had enough of Alexandria and her bullshit and let off some steam. Big deal. Like that hasn't happened before in the real modeling industry? Come on, what do you take us for Tyra, idiots? Please bitch. We all know how it goes down. And your sugar coating just leaves a sour taste in my mouth.

Song Smackdown: Part Deux

2011-04-12T16:17:00.000-04:00

Here's more YouTube wisdom for you today because 1) I'm feeling lazy and uninspired and 2) it's f*cking funny.

You must watch these videos in the order they appear to get the full effect:

1) Totally retarded song: Grenade by Bruno Mars:

2) Deconstruction of said Bruno Mars song by Kingsley:

I was smarter this time around and saved the James Lafferty shirtless pic for the end of the post:

Who's your daddy?

Another victim porn assault

2011-04-08T12:22:00.000-04:00

Ashley Judd recently released her memoir detailing a childhood marred by neglect and sexual abuse. Her mother Naomi and sister Wynonna were initially dismayed by the allegations in the book but merely days after its release, mommy Naomi admitted she too was sexually abused as a child during an interview on The View to promote her upcoming reality series The Judds.

Why do celebrities feel they have to reveal their deepest, darkest secrets to the whole friggin' world? Are they that desperate for cash and/or attention? Newsflash: it's already been done, like a zillion times, and it's pretty hard to beat Mackenzie Phillips who got it on, willingly, with her father.

You were abused as a child? So f*cking what. Get over it already. I don't mean to downplay the seriousness of sexual abuse but that's exactly what these celebrities are doing - I mean, I don't know about you, but my sympathy is wearing thin for this kind of thing. You were abused? That totally sucks. Get some therapy, work on your shit and stop letting it define you as a VICTIM.

What exactly are celebrities hoping to accomplish by divulging these disturbing truths? Working out their mommy/daddy issues in the public eye? Creating "awareness" around abuse? Justifying bad behaviour? Dudes, we're so "aware" of this issue, we're becoming desensitized to it. "Oh, ANOTHER celebrity was sexually abused as a child. Boo f*cking hoo."

Is the implication that a messed up childhood is a prerequisite to becoming an actor/musician/comedian/artist? Because I can say, with a great degree of certainty, that that's not the case. I had a perfectly normal childhood and it hasn't tarnished my creativity in the least.

The world doesn't need another tell-all book by some has-been celebrity hack. What we do need are publishers who are more focused on developing the talents of actual writers instead of printing volumes of celebrity navel gazing. It's no wonder our society is getting dumber by the minute - look at what we're publicizing and reading.

Kudos to the mighty Opes for her book club and the power it wields to push actual works of literature into mainstream pop culture. It's a ray of light in a murky sea of banal victim porn.

Kate Plus 8 minus Jon equals FAIL

2011-04-06T12:32:00.000-04:00

I watch bad TV. I admit it. Yeah, I'm a Bachelor and Bachelorette fan; I watch America's Next Top Model. But even I get offended by some TV shows that are SO bad, there is just no excuse. Take, for example, the return of Kate Gosselin to TLC in Kate Plus 8.

Is it just me or is this woman f*cking annoying? She's the epitome of arrogant, ignorant, smug moms. Just seeing the commercials for this show irks me. Apparently, TLC still "believes" in Kate. Really? What exactly is there to "believe" in? Since Jon and Kate Gosselin broke up, the ratings have plummeted. I guess people liked to tune in to watch Kate boss Jon around and generally treat him like shit.

Not that I'm defending Jon, who was busy in 2009, post break-up, hangin' in Europe with his new designer buddies and headlining Vegas pool parties, sans enfants. Ahem.

But now that the interactions between Jon and Kate are absent from the show, what the hell is there to watch? Kate boss her kids around? TLC must be shelling out big coin for the new season since the whole family travels to Australia for the season premiere.

I guess they'll try anything to make this show interesting. Except that it's not, and it never will be. It's about a woman stuck with eight kids because she wasn't happy with her husband and initial set of twins (does anyone ever take into account that the planet is already overpopulated?). Jon was happy with two kids but NO... Kate wanted another one.

Instead of heeding Mother Nature's opinion on the subject (you don't need no more kids bitch!), Kate underwent fertility treatments, and instead of keeping just one embryo (I know, that would mean having to KILL the other five) she kept all six of them. We can thank "reproductive technology" for forcing people to make those kinds of decisions in the first place.

Now Kate's afraid that if her crummy show is canceled, she'll have to get a "real" job. No shit Sherlock. Do you think your stint on TV will last forever? Did you not think about how you would support eight kids before letting six embryos take root in your womb? Apparently not. And frankly, I don't think we should be subjected to your dull, day-to-day life with your large, artificially created brood because you need to pay the bills.

If you're new to my blog, I have a whole category dedicated to "reproductive ranting" because I find this fertility treatment business to be total bullshit. We've glorified parenthood to the point where couples are strained physically and financially trying to conceive by artificial methods when natural ones don't work, and end up popping out an inordinate amount of mouths to feed. Then they're featured on Oprah.

I suspect Jon and Kate might still be together if they had just kept it to two kids, were never on television and subsequently warped by fame. And we would have been spared the travesty of Kate Gosselin on Dancing with the Stars.

The assumption that we all aspire (or should aspire) to parenthood and are somehow failures if we don't partake in this societal dogma leads to desperate measures such as fertility treatments and overly large families who then must be put on television as a means to support themselves, leading to their eventual demise. Somehow, I don't think that's what Mother Nature intended.

Hallelujah! I have heard the voice of reason, and her name is GloZell.

2011-04-04T16:23:00.006-04:00

I owe this post entirely to my stepdaughter whose finger is on the pulse of all that is hip and current in mainstream pop culture.

I've deduced that living with a teenage girl has allowed me to hang on to a shred of coolness that would have entirely disintegrated otherwise. I mean, without her, I wouldn't have experienced seven seasons of One Tree Hill and would have been denied the sight of James Lafferty's bare chest. Case in point:

Focus people, FOCUS. So, said stepdaughter tells me to check out Rebecca Black's song Friday on YouTube. I will reserve my comments until after you've seen it.

I know... holy piece of asinine crap. Do people really like this shit? Enter GloZell, the voice of reason:

I would also be remiss if I didn't include her take on Rihanna's hit Rude Boy. It's self-explanatory:

You're welcome.

Is this love that I'm feeling?

2011-03-31T11:52:00.002-04:00

As you may recall, I was considering upgrading my cellphone to a Blackberry after some very savvy marketing on the part of my cell provider (Damn you big, evil corporation trying to sell me cool stuff!).

After some reflection and online research, I decided that if I was going to upgrade, I would go all the way, I would not only drink the kool-aid, I would jump into a giant vat of it, and immerse myself completely.

So I got an iPhone 4.

Oh holy Moses. You must understand, I'm relatively new to the world of Apple. My closest brush with it pre-iPhone was a hand-me-down, 5-year-old iPod, with music from my CD collection downloaded onto it by my generous stepdaughter.

This iPhone 4 thingy is like crack-cocaine. While shopping for iPhone accessories at the Apple store, a staff member asked when we got the phone. Yesterday, I replied. "Is it your first iPhone?" Yes. "Ha! Good luck trying to put it down!" NO SHIT.

I'm overwhelmed with giddiness and curiosity as I cautiously navigate this new, virtual world. My stepdaughter's already workin' the thing like a seasoned pro. I watch her in awe as I awkwardly explore the device like a baby learning to walk.

I downloaded my first songs from iTunes all by myself, like a big girl, and felt mighty proud. The training wheels are slowly coming off. Now the challenge is to find a balance between being actively engaged in my life, and being completely zoned out while playing with my new toy.

On the upside, my iPhone won't sit around like my last cellphone, collecting dust. I think that's why I chose to go this route - most of the time, I forget it's also a phone since it does all this other cool stuff. 'Cause, so far, I have two contacts, my boyfriend and my stepdaughter. Yeah, I'm cool like that. My friends and I just don't communicate via cellphone or texting. We're e-mailers and land line callers. Must be a generational thing.

But now that my cellphone is also my calendar, my iPod, my go-to place to check the weather, surf the Net, and sift through thousands of yet undiscovered apps, I don't feel it's a waste.

I think I shied away from iPods in the past because it sounded so complicated - you needed the iPod, and a computer, then you had to download stuff from your computer to your iPod, blah, blah, blah.

The iPhone 4 really appeals to my sloth-like nature. It's a one-stop shop. iTunes is right on there and your songs are downloaded onto the same device. No mess, no fuss, very little effort. I'm all about taking the path of least resistance; always on the lookout for what will allow me to maximize my innate laziness.

I used to gladly lend my cellphone to my boyfriend, who doesn't have or want one, when he goes on road trips for business. He's away for a couple days next week, and I don't want him going out on the open road without a means of communication, in case of emergency. This will require that I lend him my iPhone. I'm dying inside, just a little bit.

Fun with CNN Souvenirs - Episode 4

2011-03-29T11:25:00.001-04:00

Episode 1, Episode 2, Episode 3

**These episodes are solely a product of my own imagination. Any resemblance whatsoever to actual events is purely coincidental.

Soledad: You were a real hit out there today, Sassy.

Me: Ahhh, thank you Soledad. You are too kind.

Soledad: No, I mean it. That outfit is really cutting edge, and you walked that runway like nobody's business.

Me: It pays to be the winner on America's Next Top Model. It's how you get noticed, you know? Now I get to do has-been celebrity charity fashion shows wearing my own clothes.

Soledad: Obviously, it's done wonders for you. You seem, happy.

Me: Was there ever any doubt?

Soledad: Well, rumour had it you were depressed for quite some time.

Me: That must have been all it was, a rumour. As you can see, I'm just fine.

Soledad: Whatever you say. How are you and Anderson doing?

Me: Never better.

Soledad: Really.

Me: Does that surprise you?

Soledad: Why should it?

Me: You sound unconvinced.

Soledad: Well, you know how nasty rumours can spread.

Me: Uh-huh. Tell me something. How would you feel if you found out you walked the runway in a fake label.

Soledad: What? What are you talking about?

Me: Maybe you should check your outfit. There's something not quite right about it. And I'm sure everyone picked up on it. This crowd could smell a fake from a mile away.

Soledad (realizing her outfit is a fake): You bitch! You switched my outfits! I was supposed to be wearing vintage Chanel!

Me: Yeah... now you're wearing vintage chenille.

Soledad: Oh my God... You know that I know.

Me: Of course I know that you know. I knew before any of you thought I did.

Soledad: Does Anderson know that you know?

Me: Yes, he knows that I know, and he knows that I know that you know and that you've been blackmailing him all this time.

Soledad: Why would you knowingly wear impostor designer clothing? Why would you let Anderson do that to you?

Me: I have my reasons. But there's no excuse for what you did. Holding that over his head to get information from Sanjay.

Soledad: You know about that too?

Me: Of course I do. Sanjay told me all about it.

Soledad: He's having an affair with Anderson, you know.

Me: I'm aware of that.

Soledad: And you don't care?

Me: That's between me and my husband.

Soledad: Whatever. Don't think this is over, you conniving bitch. I will never forgive you for this. I'll be trashed all over the pages of Vogue!

Me: I know, isn't it delicious?

Soledad: You will pay for this.

Me: I'm shaking in my boots. Oh, by the way, Sanjay shared his secret with me. I've already lost 5 pounds eating a whole box of Sanjay's chocolates, for breakfast.

Soledad: If I were you, I'd sleep with a knife under your pillow. You'll need it. (Soledad briskly walks out of the backstage dressing room at the Arachnophobia charity fashion show).

Have I forgiven Anderson for his affair with Sanjay? Are he and Sanjay still seeing each other? Find out on the next episode of Fun with CNN Souvenirs.

Reasons why this will be a great weekend

2011-03-25T15:14:00.001-04:00

Well... I got nothin'. My muse has apparently settled in for a nice, long nap.

The only celebrity gossip that raised my ire recently was finding out that Katie no-talent, zero-charisma Holmes was cast for some TV miniseries as Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis, one of the MOST CHARISMATIC AND UNFORGETTABLE figures of the 20th Century. When is Hollywood gonna clue in that Katie cannot act, nor dance, nor sing to any degree that should be showcased in front of an audience. People suck.

Anyway... in the absence of inspiration, I thought I'd make a list of why this is going to be a great weekend, based on the assumption that if I lay it all out there, it will be a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Reasons why this will be a great weekend:

1 - Boyfriend is out tonight which means I can watch Three's Company on DVD while getting smashed on Vodka shots.

2 - Get to sleep in on Saturday morning until I jolt upright in bed, realize I should go to kickboxing class, decide not to go, then toss and turn as I shame myself over my innate laziness and lack of ambition.

3 - Have meeting with theatre colleagues on Saturday afternoon to prep for upcoming awards ceremony.

4 - Get home in time for dinner intoxicated from drinking beer at local pub during said meeting with theatre colleagues.

5 - Contribute to my further intoxication by sharing a bottle of wine with boyfriend while watching 127 Hours, getting philosophical in my inebriated state and wondering: If an arm is cut off in the wilderness, does anybody hear?

6 - Get up at some ungodly hour on Sunday morning to go use up the last of our ski passes at Mont Tremblant.

7 - Sit in car on the way to Tremblant, semi-comatose, wondering where I am.

8 - Miraculously bounce back from hangover upon arrival at ski hill and proceed to have totally awesome day on the slopes.

9 - Chillax in outdoor hot tub and sauna following said awesome day on the slopes.

10 - Get home, totally high on fresh air and sunshine, and proceed to medicate myself so as to forget that the following day will be a Bachelor-less Monday.

The one where I discover I'm America's Next Top Model

2011-03-23T15:05:00.001-04:00

Hey bitches and bros! So I'm back from Jamaica where I discovered I have what it takes to be America's Next Top Model. Case in point: one evening, about mid-week, while getting ready for dinner, I noticed my hair:

Umm, Gisele Bündchen much? I mean, it's so obvious. Look at that perfect beach hair with those natural waves and ZERO product, unless you count the salty ocean breeze that shaped this look. It's all the more miraculous since my hair is naturally straight, and I mean lifeless, limp, no body whatsoever straight. It was a sign. If I could achieve Gisele hair, what ELSE was I capable of? It was then that I decided to put together a portfolio for ANTM. And since I watch the show, I know exactly what Tyra's looking for...

It's important for a model to work with the set she's placed in, whether it's with live bees, underwater, or humping a tree. You can't just stand there and look pretty. You gotta be FIERCE, like you and the tree are ONE. Don't you want to buy those awesome Gap three quarter length cargo pants now? Sure you do. 'Cause it'll get you a tree of your very own.

A model must always presume she's in the spotlight 24/7 and act accordingly, i.e. assume she's entitled to be the center of attention due to her plentiful pulchritude. Even in Jamaica, the spotlight was following ME. And I was ready.

A model must never forget the camera - look at it, work it and SMIZE (smile with your eyes). Obviously, I'm a pro. I'm looking straight into the camera, my neck is long (so many contestants do not elongate their necks: amateurs!) and I'm smizing but not in an overt way. I'm aware of the placement of my body and am displaying clothing and jewelry products nicely. Notice how all the merchandise is clearly visible?

I am SO ready for Cycle 17. Bring it.

It's all going to pot

2011-03-18T13:40:00.006-04:00

I'm in Jamaica... odds are...

Vacation re-post #3: Bad yogini!

I'm drunk on papaya daiquiris, how about you?

2011-03-16T13:04:00.005-04:00

Vacation re-post #2: Whatever happened to Chanel no. 1 through 4?

Historical facts, according to me...

I'm not here but I am

2011-03-14T12:54:00.012-04:00

My dearest Sassies,

I'm actually away this week (ah, the wonders of modern technology - it feels like I'm here, doesn't it?). Anyhoo, in my absence, I thought I'd provide links to my all-time favorite posts.

For my newer readers, you will revel in delight at my writing prowess. For those who have followed this blog for a longer period of time, and may have already read these, you will, once again, revel in delight at my writing prowess.

Vacation re-post #1: The Adventures of Abercrumbie and Futch.

You're welcome.

I'm gonna drink the kool-aid...

2011-03-09T14:41:00.000-05:00

So here's me, deciding that in 2011, I don't want to define "success" by outward accomplishments (psh!) and status symbols (lame!). I want to cultivate inner acceptance, a true and lasting source of self-esteem not dependent on outward circumstances... Uh-huh. What are we today? March 9th? Yeah, well, that plan isn't workin' out so good.

I had vowed not to be one of those "keepin' up with the Jones' " kind of people, just "having to have" the latest version or the newest tech toy. I kept telling myself: "No, I'm happy with my seldomly used LG Rumor cellphone. Perfectly content. Don't need anything else."

Yesterday, I got a letter in the mail from our cellphone service provider. "You are now eligible for a phone upgrade. You can choose a new phone OR why not one of our new Blackberry smartphones?" Waaaaaaaahhhhh? Of course, they included a pamphlet with photos and info on the very latest Blackberry models. Of course...

Oooooohhhhhh.... aaaahhhhhhh. Pretty. Shiny. Blackberry. Must have one. No, dammit, no! I will not be a victim of sales gimmicks! Shut up voice of reason! I want one! But you barely use the phone you have now! You vowed never to be a "Crackberry" user! I don't care! I want one!

I was like a diabetic kid in a candy store, like a sex addict in a porn shop; the want so intense and overpowering, it eclipsed any sense of restraint. Who am I kidding? Trying to be all noble and shit, all anti-consumerism. I am failing miserably at this task.

After being given a second-hand iPod, "Apple want" ignited within me. If we happened to be in an electronics store, I felt obliged to peruse the new iPod products, and the joy I felt at the prospect of owning one of these toys was akin to still believing in Santa Claus.

Before I had an iPod, I couldn't have cared less about them. I had no interest in owning one and didn't know the first thing about how they worked. I was not perturbed by this in the least. But then, like Adam enticed by Eve to take a bite of the apple, I did, and brought rabid desire upon my earnest attempts at moderation.

It's humbling to be actively aware of my status as a hapless peon on the wheel of consumption. Maybe I should do more yoga or meditate or something to mitigate the irrational beliefs programmed into my average brain by clever marketers about what I "need". Ooohhh, that might require a trip to Lululemon.... never mind.

Why the Hef is my hero

2011-03-07T12:46:00.000-05:00

Over the weekend I had the privilege of watching a documentary on the Hef's life titled: Hugh Hefner: Playboy, Activist and Rebel. This film goes far beyond portraying Hugh as simply the founder of Playboy, the masturbatory companion of choice for countless men. It also delves into the aspects of Hefner's life that may be lesser known such as his commitment to equal rights and progressive politics.

Not only is Hef the most enviable heterosexual male around, he is a maverick, not fearing to tread where others dared not. Back in the '50s, he hosted a television show that included white, black and Jewish performers alike, at a time when this was unheard of or at the very least, sneered at with derision.

A few token "feminists" were included in the documentary, criticizing Hugh for portraying females as merely sexual objects. To which he replied, and I'm paraphrasing from memory: "They are sexual objects. This ensures the propagation of the species. But they are also so much more." He championed women's reproductive rights and the repealing of abortion laws, and brought to the forefront the idea that it's ok for women to like sex, and that "nice girls" like it too.

The Hef has been criticized time and again for his "questionable" morality. The documentary aptly portrays a man who is nothing but honest about his intentions, has never led any of his female companions astray with false expectations and lays his cards on the table. Even during his eight-year marriage to Kimberly Conrad, he remained faithful to her. If anything, Hugh Hefner is a very moral man. Much more so than the hypocritical Christian fanatics who are among his loudest critics.

While Ronald Reagan was selling out his fellow artists to the FBI during the McCarthyan Inquisition of the '40s and '50s, Hugh Hefner chose not to judge his neighbours based on political views but rather accepted differing ideas with an open mind. The Hef was also involved in freeing a man from a 15-year jail sentence for having received a blow job from another man, following a letter sent by the inmate to Playboy magazine describing his situation.

I already admired the Hef but after watching this documentary, my respect for him has only deepened. He is an intelligent, caring, courageous, generous man. Hugh Hefner is who he says he is, and his actions are not discordant with his words. He has done far more to advance black, gay and women's rights than he is given credit for, especially during periods of American history when it was incredibly risky to do so.

Hugh is indeed a rebel, but with a cause. He asked a simple question in his youth, when still following in his elders' footsteps, before founding Playboy: "Is this all there is?" It was his yearning for more, his desire to go beyond what was perceived as possible that indelibly changed the American cultural landscape forever.

The day I got face raped

2011-03-04T14:32:00.001-05:00

They'll look great once the swelling goes down! Wait, let's go back to the beginning.

It all started a week ago... Sometimes, I have whims, whims that I must indulge. I sensed this was one of my creative whims so obviously, as an artist, I had to address it. It's part of my creative process. I decided, after five or six years of going makeup free, that I wanted to be a girl again. I wanted to wear makeup.

So I mosied on down to this fabulous makeup store a few blocks away, shared my dilemma with the friendly staff (I haven't worn makeup in like, forever, please help me!) and a short time later I left with a bag full of loot and a makeover.

But, being me, I wasn't completely satisfied with just the new goods, no, I had to complete this mission by booking a brow shaping appointment so that my eyebrows would match my new, polished look.

A few days later, I showed up to said fabulous makeup store once again, brimming with enthusiasm at my pending brow shaping. After this, I would look effing good. Between the perfect brows and the new makeup, I could do no wrong.

The esthetician guided me to my seat where I happily entrusted my brows and flawless skin to her. The actual waxing wasn't too bad, some very short-lived discomfort for a lot of gain. That's how I saw it anyway. She also suggested I get my upper lip waxed which I agreed to after a flashback of that photo where I look like I have a mustache.

Once the deed was done, she applied some liquid foundation to the now red areas of freshly waxed skin. I admired my new brows in a mirror and was on my way. Success! The rest of the day went as planned until I got home and washed my face.

Oh holy Moses. Not only were the waxed areas red but numerous welts were forming on my face! My face people! My moneymaker! I've had waxing done before but didn't remember it being so hard on my skin. I figured I'd put some moisturizer on, go to bed and everything would be ok in the morning.

WRONG. I awoke to the same red, welty wilderness I had had the night before. Shit. I looked like a freak and my tinted moisturizer could not quite contain the scarlet tint of the raped zones. What had I done? I'd become a slave to superficial beauty, voluntarily submitting myself to painful procedures in the name of vanity.

And now I was paying the price. My skin was itchy and tight, and I felt overwhelmed with self-consciousness. I was monitoring the progression of this ailment in my compact mirror every few minutes to see if there had been any advancement in my healing process.

A couple days later, while sharing my tale of woe with some friends, one of them indicated that I'd probably had such a bad reaction because of the foundation applied to the affected areas immediately after waxing and that all that chemical shit basically seeped into my open, sensitive pores.

Ah HA! Mystery solved. My face is still healing although it looks much better than it did a couple days ago. I'm on the road to recovery and everyone's prayers and well wishes are deeply appreciated.

Of course I'm going to go back. They'll look great once the swelling goes down!

An ode to Charlie Sheen

2011-03-02T15:19:00.000-05:00

Since EVERYBODY is talking about Charlie Sheen and his very public implosion, I thought I'd put my two cents in, 'cause I'm down with the homies, if ya know what I mean. Actually, I don't even know what I mean. It just sounded cool. Anyway... here's a poem, for Charlie.

N.B.: This little ditty is a combination of fact and fiction. In other words, some of it is true, and some of it is made up so the lines would rhyme. 'Cause I'm cool like that.

An ode to Charlie Sheen

You were born Carlos Irwin Estevez

Such a shy and quiet boy

Loving toy race cars and Pez

The simple things brought you joy

You were a high school baseball star

Making Super-8 films in your car

Then you got kicked out for bad attendance

And swore you'd become an actor as vengeance

You went on to work on Wall Street

And even City Hall

Replacing Michael J. Fox

Then CBS gave you a call

Cast as Charlie Harper

A character loosely based on you

Two and a Half Men was born

And to you it would be true

Until the day you slammed its creator

When it was evident you were losing your shit

So they canceled the show and called you a traitor

And you resorted to your quick wit

In the meantime you fathered five children

And married all of three times

Now you're living with porn stars, and that's bitchin'

But they took your kids away for alleged crimes

You've trashed hotel rooms and partied hard

And were arrested on Christmas Day

Now the police say you've got to stay in your yard

Via a restraining order, come what may

What happened to you Charlie Sheen

So handsome and so lean

You sniffed too much white powder, got louder and louder

And on self-destruction you are keen

The train wreck that was last night's Oscars telecast

2011-02-28T12:25:00.000-05:00

I will begin my post-Oscar dissection with this lovely quote from my boyfriend, stating his feelings on last night's telecast: "Why are we watching this show with people we don't know, accepting awards we don't care about at an event that is irrelevant. Thank God there's a repeat of the Family Guy Christmas Special."

I must concur. Last night's Oscars ceremony was a complete disaster, probably the worst I've ever seen. As much as I like Anne Hathaway and James Franco, they fell flat as the show's hosts, as in flatlined. They were lifeless, without natural chemistry, painfully boring. Tragic, considering they're both very talented actors. However, having chosen them to host the Academy Awards was a mistake, a momentary lapse in sound judgment.

There was a mildly entertaining video montage to kick off the show highlighting the best picture nominees but as soon as the show went live, with Anne and James on stage, the whole thing fell apart. It was awful. I felt like the audience was laughing out of pity because frankly, why else would they be laughing? Nothing the hosts said or did was funny.

Another mistake: asking Kirk Douglas to present the Best Supporting Actress award. Yes, we all know Kirk is a Hollywood icon and we adore him. BUT, the man still suffers from devastating after effects of a stroke. His speech is slurred and erratic. This does not a good presenter make. If he was making a speech after receiving a lifetime achievement award, that would be different. I would have gladly and patiently listened to him.

Dear Academy: please make sure your presenters can speak clearly and swiftly. Listening to Kirk Douglas trying to be funny was like listening to nails on a chalkboard. I know this may not be a politically correct statement to make but since when do I give a flying f*ck about political correctness?

The writers made the best acceptance speeches last night, notably Aaron Sorkin, for the screen adaptation of The Social Network and David Seidler for the original screenplay of The King's Speech. Those writers, they're a witty bunch. Colin Firth's speech after having won the Best Actor award was also pleasantly amusing, and, it's Colin Firth. Anything he says just sounds so... yummy.

Apart from a few scarce, barely entertaining moments, I sensed a tangible undercurrent of apathy at this year's Oscars, especially from a younger generation of actors such as Mila Kunis and Justin Timberlake. Perhaps these awards are slowly but surely losing their appeal and on their way to becoming relics of a past era.

If a repeat of the Family Guy Christmas Special is much more appealing than the Academy Awards, then perhaps slipping into insignificance is not a bad thing. And just to be clear, the Family Guy Christmas Special is a masterpiece, not to be easily outdone by beautifully adorned, self-congratulatory Hollywood glitterati.

Fun with CNN Souvenirs - Episode 3

2011-02-24T12:20:00.000-05:00

If you missed the first two episodes, catch up on all the action here:

Episode 1

Episode 2

**These episodes are solely a product of my own imagination. Any resemblance whatsoever to actual events is purely coincidental.

Anderson: My God. That was incredible.

Sanjay: It was wasn't it.

Anderson: I think I went blind for a minute there.

Sanjay: Has your wife ever made you feel that way?

Anderson: Can we please not talk about her?

Sanjay: Sorry. I just, I can't help it.

Anderson: You know I can't give you what you want.

Sanjay: I know.

Anderson: But it's not like I can't give you anything.

Sanjay: Tell me a secret. Something no one else knows.

Anderson: Why?

Sanjay: If you tell me something, I'll tell you something.

Anderson: Again, why?

Sanjay: 'Cause it's fun. And it'll bring us closer together.

Anderson: I don't want to lead you on.

Sanjay: I know where you stand. It's ok. But come on, what's wrong with having a confidante? Someone you can entrust with your deepest, darkest secrets?

Anderson: I don't trust anyone.

Sanjay: You can trust me.

Anderson: And why would I do that?

Sanjay: We've been lovers for weeks. You know you feel the same intimacy between us that I do. And it's easier to share something than to try and carry it alone.

Anderson: (pause) For the past five years, I've switched the tags on my wife's clothes to make her think she's wearing designer stuff but really, they're all cheap knockoffs.

Sanjay: What!

Anderson: I know. It's terrible. I'm so ashamed. She trusted me and I let her down.

Sanjay: No, I mean, why are you buying her clothes?

Anderson: She doesn't like to shop.

Sanjay: She doesn't like to shop!

Anderson: No.

Sanjay: Something is very, very wrong with her.

Anderson: She's been depressed for a while, that could explain it. Although she's never really liked shopping since I've known her.

Sanjay: I don't know what to say.

Anderson: About me or about her?

Sanjay: Well, what you're doing is despicable, practically unforgivable. You have impeccable taste and you're dressing your wife in ghetto rags. That's harsh man. Harsh.

Anderson: I know. I'm a cheap bastard! And if she ever finds out, I don't know what she'll do. It's eating me up inside.

Sanjay: It must be since you're letting Soledad hold you hostage.

Anderson: What? How do you....

Sanjay: How do I know? I didn't until just now. But I know what she's really after and I'm going to give you the information she wants. The question is: will you tell Soledad or will you be honest with your wife instead?

Anderson: Don't tell me anything. Please.

Sanjay: I know you're a good man Anderson, you'll do the right thing. I'm going to give you the recipe for the chocolate that, if eaten regularly, melts away excess weight, tones muscles and gives you a nice, healthy glow, without self-tanner or damaging sun rays. Do you really think I'm that naive? I hold the secret to what every woman wants - a perfect body via regular ingestion of chocolate. You think you're the first to try and get it from me?

Anderson: So, all this time, you've known...

Sanjay: Yes.

Anderson: Why didn't you say anything?

Sanjay: Because your wife set this up, to find out why Soledad has such a hold on you.

Anderson: What! How do you know my wife!

Sanjay: Let's just say I owe her, a lot.

Anderson: She set you and me up? But I thought Soledad set us up, and, obviously, you know why.

Sanjay: That's what Soledad thinks, too.

Anderson: I've done terrible things. Why would you want to be with someone like me?

Sanjay: The heart wants what it wants.

Anderson: You still haven't answered my question: how do you know my wife?

Sanjay: She's been keeping secrets from you too. She set me up with a Prada wholesaler - I haven't paid full price in months. It's changed my life. I owe her big time.

Anderson: How does she know Prada wholesalers? She hates shopping!

Sanjay: That's where you're wrong. She pretended to hate it because it turned into an ugly addiction that she didn't want you to know about. That's why she sends you to do it for her, you have self-control, well, most of the time.

Anderson: Does she know what I've been doing?

Sanjay: What do you think? I'm just here to confirm her suspicions.

Anderson: Oh my God. I'm such an asshole.

Sanjay: She's kept things from you too.

Anderson: Why wouldn't she come to me?

Sanjay: She was afraid you'd be angry.

Anderson: My God. My poor little cupcake. I need to see her.

Sanjay: I understand. But first, here it is, what Soledad's been looking for. I trust you'll do the right thing.

Anderson: She has no power over me anymore. That little conniving bitch is gonna get what's coming to her.

How will Anderson avenge himself against Soledad? Will he admit his affair with Sanjay to me? Will Sanjay be willing to give up Anderson for me? Find out on the next episode of Fun with CNN Souvenirs.

You don't have to be a writer! Just a headline-generating skank!

2011-02-22T12:04:00.000-05:00

Soooo..... apparently, Jesse James has signed on with some publisher to pen a tell-all book. (Insert sound of crickets here.) Your enthusiasm is overwhelming. Much like mine was when I discovered this little tidbit of information.

What exactly would Jesse James have to say that would be even remotely interesting? Is he going to try and justify his cheating ways? Oh wait, he already did that. But I'm guessing he's gonna recycle that shit 'cause, I mean, come on, you can milk that "poor me" teat 'til it's dry and crusty.

I'm guessing the book will go something like this (I may have embellished some details. Ok, most of it is just plain made up. I'm trying to make a point here. Stick with me people.):

Before I became famous with my (surprise, surprise) reality show, I was nothin' but white trash. I grew up poor, in some nondescript trailer park (like a zillion other kids in the US). My momma was a prostitute and my dad was a drunk. That's why he beat me.

And my momma, well, she was workin' on the streets so she was never around to protect us kids from dad's "fits". Then, when I was a teenager, I joined a gang, smoked dope and was bangin' anything with a tattoo. That's when I discovered my love of motorcycles and chicks. One became my saving grace, the other my downfall.

You gotta understand, I was tryin' to fill a void inside me with all the sex (yawn). I had such low self-esteem from my pops beatin' on me and my mom whorin' around, I felt like a nobody. Screwin' skanks filled up the emptiness inside me.

And even though I was married to a smart, attractive, sweet movie star, my horrible childhood compelled me to continue to pursue unhealthy and hurtful behaviour. Every time I stuck my dick into a new vagina, it lessened the pain of my daddy's blows, which weren't just physical but emotional too.

You see, it's not my fault I'm a lyin' whore. It's my daddy's and my momma's and the sad, sad circumstances of my early life. So basically, I can't take any responsibility for my actions as an adult since I was abused as a child (barf).

I'm engaged again, and y'all know that's gonna work out 'cause I went to therapy and shit after my split from the movie star and I'm all better now. I was able to blame my parents for everything that's gone wrong in my life, and now I can move on and be in a healthy relationship.

And if that don't work out, I can blame the movie star for not "understanding" me. 'Cause it ain't my fault.

But I may have to reveal some intimate details of my marriage to the movie star so's I can cash in on her celebrity to sell my crappy ass book. You know how it is...

The yoga of TV

2011-02-18T12:03:00.000-05:00

A colleague of mine recently loaned me the first season of Three's Company on DVD. Watching this show once again instantly brought me back to my childhood, when re-runs would air Monday to Friday. Back then, most of the sexual innuendo went over my head but I loved it nonetheless. It was one of those programs that felt like a warm security blanket, that made everything better, if only for half an hour.

This could explain, in part, my addiction to television. Certain shows, at different times in my life, filled a need to escape, created a safe environment for however long the show lasted. Back in the eighties, shows like Three's Company, Family Ties and the Dukes of Hazard were among my faves.

Every Friday night, I'd always try to sneak in Dallas which aired immediately after the Dukes of Hazard. I'd sit quietly in our rec room, which was downstairs, while my parents were milling about upstairs and hope my mother wouldn't notice it was past my bedtime. Sure enough, every time, as soon as she heard the Dallas theme song, she would call me up to bed. Damn, I would think, foiled once again!

When I got a little older, I was allowed to stay up later to watch Miami Vice, which led to my unhealthy obsession with Don Johnson and the disintegration of my promising acting career.

In the early nineties, when I was struggling with homesickness and low self-esteem during my first year of university, Beverly Hills 90210 was my saving grace. The kids on the show were also in their first year of university, albeit richer and in a warmer climate. I escaped into their college experience to momentarily forget my own which, although academically successful, was wrought with difficulties, not the least of which was contending with one of the coldest winters I can remember, an apt manifestation of how I was perceiving my environment at that time - cold and inhospitable.

I also had a fiery affair with a short-lived remake of a vampire program, Dark Shadows, starring Ben Cross. After only one season and one hell of a cliffhanger, it went off the air. I was incensed. This, of course, was an early harbinger of my later obsession with vampires, pre-Twilight. Don't get me started on that bullshit... When the spoof Vampires Suck is better than the actual movies, somethin's gotta give.

The mid to late nineties were peppered with great sitcoms: Seinfeld, Friends, Frasier, Roseanne. And, irony of ironies, my dad introduced me to Sex and the City in 1998. He was watching it one night and hollered: "You gotta come and see this!" And then I was hooked.

These days I'm all about HBO and Showcase and shit. They're producing some of the best TV ever. And it just keeps getting better. Although I would be remiss if I didn't mention two of my network faves, 30 Rock and Modern Family.

Throughout my life, television programs have been there, like a faithful friend, momentarily suspending reality and allowing me to escape into some other universe. Not that my life was filled with hardship. Quite the opposite, actually. I was, however, struggling with what everyone faces in their lives: self-doubt, low self-esteem, perfectionism (my own), relationships with family, friends and boys, societal expectations, etc...

Say what you will about TV and, for the most part, its ever devolving content, it still provides a reprieve from reality, from fears and frustrations, demands and expectations, and simply allows me to be. It's the yoga of TV.

Gaga is gaga for fame

2011-02-16T13:33:00.003-05:00

I came across this article on PopEater.com recently, and took immediate offense to Lady Gaga being compared to Bjork. I get a little peeved when people riff on Bjork for that now infamous swan dress she wore at the Oscars and have previously expressed my opinion on this.

Bjork is a talented artist, unconcerned with garnering fame or with others' opinions of her work or her wardrobe. Her originality comes from a place of truth, its genuineness palpable. Lady Gaga, on the other hand, strikes me as someone trying desperately to remain in the limelight by mistakenly believing she's blazing a new path with her outlandishness.

Newsflash Gaga: that path was carved out a while ago by none other than Madonna, a veritable pioneer in the art of reinvention of the self and shocking the masses with overt sexuality, an artist whose sound you eerily seemed to replicate during last Sunday's Grammy awards.

Arriving at the Grammy ceremony in an egg, claiming she's "in incubation" before her performance, stating that she doesn't have sex because she fears her creativity will be stolen via her vagina, all these things reek of warped delusions of grandeur. Lady Gaga can actually sing, she's got the talent but it's diluted in the wake of these ridiculous stunts that only irritate rather than inspire.

Fame is merely a by-product, something fluid and fleeting. Talent is real, concrete. If only Gaga would focus on further developing her actual musical talents and her own unique voice rather than trying to out-do the likes of Madonna and Bjork, she may be taken a little more seriously. People tire quickly of disingenuous posturing. Sure, it was fun at first, now it's just lame.