Reverse Objectification Thursday and other stuff.

We're not Elvis anymore.
We're not Frankie in his wild years
We're not Tina's glorious comeback
We're not us.

That's the chorus from Tina's Glorious Comeback by Dan Mangan, a song I have probably listened to about a dozen times today, and played on guitar another half-dozen and I can't get enough of it.  I can not get over this guys' vocals, and the songs are so simple, yet often beautiful, or just catchy as hell.  I've said it once and I've said it before, I would like to hunt this man down and marry him and have ridiculously cute and talented DanManganBabies (tubal ligation reversal pending).

Reverse Objectification Thursday, since I won't be able to blog tomorrow.
Adorable, innhe?

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Got the staff xmas party tomorrow night.  Promises to be a pretty good time.  Learning from last year, I've secured a place to get ready so I don't have to drive all the way back to the Harbour and back.  I've ensured I don't run into the same issues I had last year, when I decided to stay in town due to some pretty intense snow squalls.  However upon arriving at my friend/co-workers house, I discovered I was missing my make up, as well as my shoes.  And that the two pairs of nylons I had brought both had giant runs in them.  I had brought two different outfits to wear, one a pants suit and the other a pretty hot dress, and by the end of the work day, really had my heart set on the dress.

So I drove through the snow (sans snow tires) to get more nylons, and pick up the minimal amount of make up I would need, and maybe shoes if I could find some nice cheap ones.

I actually managed to find all these things, but there was one small problem.. with horror i realized that my bank card was sitting on my desk back at work, in the building that was all locked up (which was also where my shoes were).  With a sigh I decide to put the stuff on my credit card. Until I remember, again with horror, that my credit card is sitting on my desk at HOME.  The twenty dollars in my purse ends up being enough to cover my nylons and a tube of lipstick and cab fare home.

I get back to my friends place and rush to put my clothes on, only to rip a giant hole in the new nylons.  My cursing could probably have been heard for blocks.  Okay, pants suit it is, then.  Oh, yes, Pants suit and BOOTS.  not dressy boots either.  I'm hawt.

So this year I've got everything packed to avoid the same issues.  Two pairs of brand new light-tights, and an extra pair of shoes (the ones I want to wear are at work, but now i have a back-up pair).  So should be a good time.  Same venue as last year, one of the town's more upscale restaurants.  The company usually puts on a decent party.  There's talk of bar-hopping afterwards.  I love my co-workers.

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I read on Exclaim! site today that Hard Core Logo 2 will be premiering at some film festival in Whistler, BC.   It kind of blew my mind that this was the first I had heard of it, considering that HCL is probably my favorite movie EVER.  I admit I'm pretty wary of getting too excited by this news.  In fact, I was a little disgusted, but i tend to have a bias against sequels since the vast majority of them are terrible.  It seems that the longer between a movie and a sequel the worse that sequel tends to be.  Plus, how to make a Hard Core Logo sequel without Hugh Dillon?  (not to give away any spoilers, but let's just say, Joe Dick won't be making any physical appearances in the sequel). 

However, I read on, and apparently the way it goes is that it's about a new band, whose singer is haunted by the memory of Joe Dick (shit, sorry, spoiler alert).  It could work. Or it could be fucking lame and horrible, and potentially ruin the original for me forever.  Bruce McDonald, do NOT let me down.

If you haven't seen Hard Core Logo, I recommend it.  Especially if you love rock and roll movies.  But don't believe the cover, it's not a comedy and it's not like Spinal Tap (except that it's a mockmentary about a fictional band.. but the comparison really stops there).  It's worth watching if only for Callum Keith Rennie's early 90's hawtness and the vaguely homoerotic undertones of the friendship between Joe Dick and Billy Tallent.

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 Today my nine-year-old wore her bathing suit top under her clothes.  Why?  She wanted to feel like she was wearing a bra.

She's nine.  I'm so not ready to deal with a nine-year-old who is itching to grow up.  As a kid, I was more than content to stay my own age (hell, I'm still fine with not being a grown up).  I fought growing up.  I professed to believe in Santa Claus until I was 12.   By the time I finally let my mom buy me a bra I probably had cleavage (and yet I still went through the trauma of being the first kid in my class to wear one).  I didn't really date until I was 14 and even then, I barely did.

This one, however has been asking for a 'practice bra' for almost a year already.  How do I deal with a kid who in so many ways is 9 going on 16, yet in others is 9 going on 5 (like, in that innocent and trusting way)?  and is beautiful to boot, and is likely to be a beautiful teenager?  

Gah.  I didn't sign on for this.