This is why I hated "She's All That"

Tumblr user Justplainsomething posited an interesting question recently:

Why do we see a story where a guy falls for an “ordinary” girl as pandering? It’s one thing if the story’s message is “Your self-worth is directly connected to whether or not a boy loves you” because that’s problematic as hell, but why do we mock girls for liking stories where they’re wanted? Is the idea that girls like being wanted so off-putting to us?

Years ago, I had a thing for movies with vaguely schlubby/geeky guys who win the girl in the end, but often thought similar.. "Why are there no movies where a plain, kind of dweeby girl, wins over the hot guy by being herself?"

The answer is rather depressing.   While we see a plain schlubby dude winning over a beautiful woman as a hero, a beloved protagonist, I feel like a schlubby woman chasing a hot guy would be seen by most as kind of desperate and pathetic, or alternately, as frightening.

Male entitlement (and I'm going to piss some people off using that term) dictates that our schlubby dude is a hero because as a guy he deserves to win the pretty girl's affections.  He should be able to get the girl just by being himself.

How else does Seth Rogen get leading man roles?  Source

The only time we seem to root for the schlubby girl is when she earns the affections of the hot guy by becoming beautiful.  It's as though we schlubby chicks are not allowed to win over hot guys by simply being ourselves.  We have to be beautiful before we get to win them over.  Hence the popularity of the scads of Pygmalion archetypes in film.

Even Hollywood's idea of plain geeky women is rather skewed.  Skewed enough that I am having a hard time thinking of a particularly schlubby or dweeby leading lady that I'd like to see paired up with a hot leading man.

Sorry, even with glasses and a taco hat, you're still Rachel Leigh fricking Cook.  Source

The other time a small subset of us cheers for the schlubby woman is when she decides that she's better off alone.. but like I said, that's a small, small subset.

I'd love to see a movie where someone like,  geez, I don't know.. Mayim Bialik in Full-Amy Farrah Fowler mode gets paired up with someone like Kit Harrington (garrgghghh).. without a makeover, without her flinging her glasses off and becoming a supermodel.  Just a plain, geeky girl and the hot, hot dude who loves her.

I have a feeling I may be waiting some time.

In the meantime, I'll be over here, having a Kit Harington appreciation moment. Source

Tech, nostalgia and the coming generation.

Once a week the household gets together with my friend Tess and her family for a 'dinner-and-a-movie' night.  We often revisit old family classics or newer family-friendly fare. On occasion the kids all decide to screw off to my eldest daughter's room to do kid stuff, so at those times we get to enjoy more grown-up fare.

A video came across my Facebook feed called "Kids React to Walkmans" where a group of children are given an early 90's style portable cassette player and asked to figure out what this contraption is and what it does.  As a whole, they're pretty much flummoxed and by the end of the video they have proclaimed modern MP3 technology to be far superior.

Well, duh.  Anyone who has ever had to repair an unspooled cassette with a pen could tell you THAT.

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My kids are fairly savvy with some of the more time-withstanding technologies of the past.  Our cabinet hi-fi sits in the front hall and occasionally gets some play when I get the urge to pull out my limited collection of LPs.  The thing has GREAT sound.  Thank you, Lori.

Watching these kids in the video struggle with what seemed like the relatively simple concept of popping a cassette into a walkman so music comes out the earphones made me think of some of the other near- or completely- obsolete tech that my generation takes for granted.

A few weeks ago for family movie night, we watched The Secret Life of Walter Mitty which, by the way, is now one of my favourite movies ever.  Surprisingly kid-friendly, too.  As we watched, the thought came to me that it was entirely possible that none of the children present even had any concept of film-based photography.  To the best of my knowledge my kids have only ever used digital cameras or at best disposable cameras.  They've not been exposed (ha!) to the fumbling involved in loading film in to a 35mm camera.

Okay, maybe other people found that sort of thing easy, but I have ruined many a roll in my time.

My kids would not be able to point out or name any of the equipment that used to sit in my dad's home-made darkroom when I was a teenager.  Negatives, slides, spools, washes, fixatives.  All completely foreign.

I wondered how much of this particular film went over their head, not being familiar with the process of photo development.

It's not only technology.  We also take the cultural references for granted.

A week later, we gathered and watched Saving Mr. Banks.  About two thirds of the way through I came to the realization that my kids had never actually seen Mary Poppins (Tess's kids had).  We've got an extensive collection of movies, some dating back to the early 20's, but somehow this one had gotten by us.

There's always this misconception that children and especially teens don't have appreciation for things that pre-date, well, them.  However, it's an appreciation that can be built up, with exposure.

One day in car I popped in a Mountain Goats CD and my eldest rolled her eyes and went "Ugh.. old people music.."  (Seriously?  The Sunset Tree came out in 2005!  Old people music.  Psh.)  My response was to put on The Complete Robert Johnson Collection.

You want to call something "old people music?"  There's your old people music.  Sorry, Grandma.

I dunno.  I guess I grew up with an appreciation of my parent's generation of music and film, because I was regularly exposed to it.  When other kids were listening to New Kids on the Block, I was into The Guess Who, Harry Belafonte and Stompin' Tom.

But there are some things that I guess we can't quite recreate, like the excitement of getting a custom-made mixed tape, or seeing animated penguins dance on screen with Dick Van Dyke and Julie Andrews for the first time.

Myself, I haven't seen Mary Poppins in years.

I think I may have the soundtrack on vinyl, though.

Post-Script:  Holy crap! Typewriters! I didn't even mention typewriters.  What kind of crazy old-timey shit is that, amirite?

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Can we stop having this conversation already?

I haven't read, nor seen, the Hunger Games, although the more I read about it, the more I want to check it out, as it sounds pretty freaking cool.

It seems there's a bit of a kerfuffle over one or two of the major characters in the book being cast with black actors.

Can we gets over this already?

Every damn time a POC gets cast as a known character who is not explicitly Black, Asian, Native or whatever, a bunch of "I'm not racist but..." assholes get their collective panties in a bunch and start muttering about "polital correctness running amok", like a POC couldn't actually be cast because they are, you know, a Good actor or something. No, it's all part of some big liberal bleeding heart affirmative action agenda.

Can we just accept that, except in cases where you are dealing with historical context (like, real people who actually existed) or when race is a fundamental part of the overarching narratives, the race or ethnicity of the actor or actress being cast should not fucking matter, especially in cases where descriptions of the character don't really allude to their enthncity at all.

"If someone cast a white person as {Insert known POC character here} then it wouldn't be okay.. You're a hypocrite!"

Not the same thing, folks. There are oodles of roles for white actors and actresses, already. There are a lot less good, fleshed-out roles for Black and Asian actors that aren't total stereotypes. And even LESS for Native or East Indian actors.

Basically, if your enjoyment of a film can be tarnished by the casting of a POC, when you'd imagined the character as white, then at best, you're unimaginative as hell and at worst, kind of an asshole. And a bigot.

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New, happy post up at Different Paths, Same Destination. Go check it out.

Reverse Objectification Tuesday: Oscar Edition.

This will be a short one, as I have ten minutes before the work whistle blows.

I didn't watch the Oscars, as per usual, since a) they generally tend to be pretty long and fairly boring and B) my intense loathing of modern day cineplexes generally guarantees that I have not seen any of the films nominated. True to form, this year I have seen a grand total of ONE of the winning films.

And I was very excited for its win for best song.

Why?

Because MUPPETS.

And because Bret McKenzie is about as adorable as a bowl of kittens wrapped in newborn babies and sprinkled with more kittens.

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Whew.. 8:59. Just under the line.

Tidbits

So many things to write about, so little time.

Today is Gord Downie's birthday.

I've been sickish this weekend, but well taken care of. Feeling special and appreciative.

I took the opportunity to watch 6.5 out of the 8 Harry Potter movies.

My guitar tuner is missing. As such I'm coming to the conclusion that I have a shitty ear for these things. I hope it turns up soon.

Yesterday was duff mckagan's birthday. I kind of miss when he was all baby-faced, in the pre-velvet revolver days.

My little one made me breakfast saturday. Cheerios and peanut butter toast and an apology for not knowing how to use the coffee maker.

Today is Queen Elizabeth's diamond jubilee. 60 years in the same position with no room for advancement. Still has a good shot at breaking queen Vicky's record though.

Canada has fake bands too, you know.

I'm kind of getting a kick out of HelloGiggles.com as a fun site for randomness and pop culture. (my massive girly-crush on Zooey Deschanel notwithstanding) However, I'm finding it unforgiveable that twice now they have posted articles on the best fake bands from movies and made glaring omissions.  Maybe it's a deep-seated prejudice against Canadian Content, or maybe they are just sadly ignorant of our offerings north of the border (god knows...  Canadians hardly recognize that we have a film AND a television industry, so I can't be too hard on the Americans).

The other possibility is that with the exception of my last choice, the bands I mention can only be considered 'good' if 'good' to you doesn't necessarily mean 'talented, with catchy tunes' but rather 'kind of goofy but nonetheless amusing as fuck.'

Here are some examples that have twice now been left off the list, and have thus prevented me from giving HelloGiggles full recognition as a credible pop culture website.

- OR -

Sometimes I just like to piggyback on other people's ideas.

Thunderface - Corner Gas

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Consisting of Hank on Vocals, Brent on guitar, Wanda on bass and Karen on drums, Thunderface decided to reunite for a show at the hotel after a 15 year hiatus, much to Paul's delight.  After kicking the Tragically Hip out of Brent's garage to practice, their one show is cut short by the fuzz, otherwise known as Davis (who is jealous that Karen got picked as drummer over him).




Rod Torfulson's Armada Featuring Herman Menderchuck - Kids in the Hall

Originally known as simply Armada, they're goal was to practice, always showing up on time and arrive having eaten.  The nameless singer played by Kevin McDonald basically did all the work, but was consistently over-ridden by bandmates Rod and Herman, whether it be to add backup singers, or even keep Kevin in the band (while keeping his songs).




The Zit Remedy/The Zits - Degrassi Junior High

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Joey Jeremiah, Derek "Wheels" Wheeler and Archie "Snake" Simpson only ever managed to write one song over their 3-4 year career and man, was it terrible but catchy in a way that after 12 hours of having it stuck in your head, you would begin to believe that the 'Something' that 'everybody wants' was probably something sharp to jab in your eardrum to distract you from this godawful song.  Still, you had to admire their persistence.  Maybe, I don't know.

(the only reason I can sit through this video is for the occasional glance at Clutch's ass)

You've been warned, though.

Hard Core Logo - Hard Core Logo

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All joking aside, this is really where I think the HelloGiggles article dropped the ball.  Hell, Barbie and the Rockers made it onto their list, but they somehow managed to miss possible the most bad-assed of fake bands.  I'm not saying this just because of my deep-seated desire to be the meat in a Hugh-Dillon-Callum-Keith-Rennie-Circa-1996 Sammich.

I can watch this movie over and over.  I will admit, I have judged people on their enjoyment of Hard Core Logo.  Who could watch the dysfunctional vaguely homoerotic relationship between Joe Dick and Billy Talent, the good-natured antics of Pipe Fitter and John Oxenbergers decent into madness and NOT want to join a punk band?

Well, I would.

Don't take this the wrong way, but to quote Mr. Joe Dick himself "You don't know shit from good chocolate, baby."



(I'm kidding, actually.  I just really wanted to used that line.  No hard feelings, k?)

Sweet Jesus! It's Reverse Objectification Wednesday!

.. and goodness gracious me, I'm not drooling over some obscure indie musician! Okay, in fairness, some of my previous posts weren't terribly Indie, and one was a T.V. guy (albeit a rather obscure one) but mostly I have a soft spot (or a wet spot.. tomato, tomahto) for the musicians.

I'm not much of a sports gal.  I'm definitely not much of a racing gal.  But I have long harboured an unapologetic dirty crush on Quebec race car driver Jacques Villeneuve.

Let's get to the objectification, shall we?

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So I was far more excited than any 30 year old woman should ever be when I saw the following:

Jacques Villeneuve to appear in Disney-Pixar’s CARS 2

Yeah, I'll be seeing this. It's definitely getting a pass on my moratorium on sequel making even though out of all the Disney Pixar movies, Cars was probably my least favorite (which is to say, I still liked it).  But I'll make an exception in this case because I'm a bit of a sucker for a good French-Canadian accent.  They'll make anything seem like a good idea, whether it's seeing the sequel to a film that may steal 90 minutes from my life I'll never get back, or making out with a 50-something Revenue Canada worker while on vacation.

Uhm... yeah...

Let's just forget I mentioned that last part mmmkay?  It'll be our little secret.

So yeah.. Apparently he'll basically be playing himself.. but.. as a car.

A pretty good-looking car, if you ask me.  How wrong would it be to fantasize about sprawling Whitesnake-video style across an anthropomorphized, animated version of a nummy looking race-car driver from Saint-Jean-sur-Richelieu, Quebec?

...

Don't you judge me.

I'm one step closer to world domination...

MUAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

I've just been given the Overlord Award from Bruce and Tucker the Puppymaster at Just Another Day in Paradise.

Three things that are gonna change now that I'm calling the shots:

First order of business:
People who blare their car stereos in parking lots at ungodly levels are to be placed in an echo chamber with their car stereos at full-volume, extra bass until their hearts explode in their chests.  (Yes, this is a BIG peeve of mine).

Second order of business:
It is now completely acceptable, legal and okay to, with complete impunity, slam those people who stand directly in front of building doors with said door, especially if said door has a large 'No Loitering within 15 meters' sign right in front of it for the purposes of preventing people from standing in front of said door in the first bloody place.

Final order of business:
There will be a 10 year moratorium on any film remake, reboot, or reimagining.  Also included in the moratorium  are prequels and extraneous sequels (unless based on a series of books, this limits filmmakers to one sequel per film) NO SEQUELS SHALL BE MADE TO FILMS OVER 20 YEARS OLD. 
Addendum: There will be no more live action movies based on beloved children's cartoons.  No more.  Just stop.  Really.  No. Really.  Knock it off.

That's right bear.  Back into the woods and the second dimension where you belong.  Source

Sadly my rule is a short-lived one, but I now get to pass my Overlord crown along to three lucky successors

Lori at Little Scotia/Vintage Witch, because she would be a benevolent overlord who would leave encouraging notes even when her minions do stupid effed-up shit like leave behind plastic containers from the recycling even though they are CLEARLY marked 1, because hey, she knows we're all trying our best here.

Lance at My Blog Can Beat Up Your Blog, because as overlord I am sure he would have some of most heinous 'popular' musicians of our times drawn and quartered in the town square for all us elitist music snobs to watch and cheer.  And I'm totally down with that.

D'Artagnan at Support Your Own Agenda because his blog title indicates that maybe he's already got plans for world domination, and I admittedly have a bit of  a blog-crush on him.

What did Nicholas Cage Ever Do To You?

The following is a piece of short fiction written for the weekly writing challenge at Studio 30 Plus.  This week's writing prompt is "Las Vegas"

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The moon is full this evening.  A faint glow shines through the window, lighting the room enough to create a vague silhouette of a man and a woman, laying back in bed.  An ashtray lay balanced on his chest and he smokes a cigarette.  She's nestled in the crook of his arm and curled up against his chest in what is only partly a gesture of affection.  Truthfully, the smell of the smoke bothers her, and she finds she prefers to breathe in his own scent of post-coital sweat and department store body spray.  She never used to be bothered by it, but after quitting herself, she finds it mildly irritating.  She's considered saying something and sometimes wonders why exactly she doesn't.

Meanwhile, as he pulls a drag from his cigarette and blows it towards the cracked open window, he wonders if it bothers her that he still enjoys the occasional smoke.  Feeling mildly guilty, he thinks about stubbing it out, but reconsiders.  If it bothered her, she'd have said something by now.

Laying in silence, the tiny orange beacon pulses as he finishes his smoke.  Stubbing the tail end in the tiny glass ashtray, he places it on the night table and waves the lingering remains away.  She adjusts her position, and breaks the silence.

"Have you ever seen Leaving Las Vegas?"  She had heard the song playing on the radio earlier that day and  wondered about the connection, if any, between the song and the film.

"Nope, never seen it," he replies sleepily.

"I've heard it's good.  It won awards, you know."
"Ehhh.  I don't really like Nicholas Cage."

Propping herself on her elbows she stares at him, momentarily, as though he's suddenly grown a third head. "What?  Why?"

"Just don't.  He bugs me.  Good night."  With that, he rolls onto his stomach and faces the wall, closing his eyes.

"Hold on a minute!" she exclaims indignantly, flipping on the light.  She's sitting upright now, and he cries out in dismay at the shock of the seemingly blinding light and slams the pillow over his head. "What do you mean, you 'just don't'?  That makes no sense!"

From under the pillow comes his muffled response "I dunno.  Why do I need a reason not to like him?  Can I sleep, please?"

"What about Adaptation?"

He emerges from under the pillow. "What about Adaptation?"

"We watched that.  Didn't you like it?  I thought you said you liked it."
"It was okay, I guess.  I don't remember it much.  Why does it matter to you if I like Nicholas Cage?"
"Well, I just don't get how you can just 'not like' someone.  Do you think he's a bad actor?  Is it because he's not conventionally handsome?"  She's crossing her arms across her chest and looking vaguely annoyed.

Sighing dramatically, he sits up. "I wasn't going to tell you this, but here goes. Once, I was in New York on business.  I was trying to hail a cab.  It was raining that day and all the taxis kept passing me by.  Finally a Yellowcab stopped and I was just about to get in when out of nowhere, Nicholas Cage shoved me aside, into a giant puddle, and took my cab that I had waited 15 minutes in the rain for.  I missed my job interview, and the opportunity of a lifetime.  Ever since then, I have hated Nicholas Cage and everything he stands for."

She pauses and eyes him, eyebrows raised. "Is that true?"

"Not a word of it.  Can we go to sleep now?"

She whacks him with the pillow. "Ass."  Flopping back onto the bed she gives him evil eye.

"You love it," he says, kissing her on the forehead and flipping off the light.  She sighs and rolls over.

A few moments later, she rolls back over.  "By the way, I hate it when you smoke in bed."

No reply.  He's already sleeping.

Fire, Fire, Fire. Fire in my Brain.

I woke up this morning with no alarm.  Thankfully I startled myself awake about ten minutes before I usually get up.  I showered and when I returned to my room, I was confronted with the unmistakable odor of a feline that had decided to declare something as 'His'.

My winter coat that, in a moment of sheer and utter laziness, I had dropped on the floor just behind my bedroom door upon entering the house the previous evening.  Lovely.  That will teach me to be more fastidious.

The fire alarm went off while at work today.  I promptly evacuated, and to clarify I mean that I left the building, not that I shat my pants.  Thanks, Vicky, for making sure I am more careful about that particular word in the future.

As I left I glanced at my wallet on my desk but decided to leave it.  I did grab my coat, as why escape a potentially burning building, only to die of exposure to the cold.  This is Canada, after all.  Always thinking.

As I stood in the parking lot with three out of my roughly 15 to 20 co-workers, along with a handful of Tim Horton's employees, I wondered what all of our elementary school teachers would think of this gross lack of respect for the fire bell.  In the time it took our staff to wander their way out, half of us could have been dead.

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I entertained the fantasy that if the building was indeed about to burn to the ground with my wallet and all identification within, I could jump in my car and assume a new identity in a new place.  I could be a dancer, or a surly truckstop waitress, or join a carnival.  I could buy a farm and grow tomatoes and sell pie at the side of the road.  I'd send for the children and they could join me.  We'd live in relative obscurity, off the grid.  Maybe open a small restaurant.  The cats would be left the little dollhouse, free to leave their smellieness where-ever they please.

Like Edward Norton's character in the 25th hour, just drive.  "Nothing at all for miles around"  Like Monty Brogan in that fantastic ending, that ending that you are never quite sure is the actual ending or just a work of Monty's imagination.  Like that, but without all the drug charges and such.

There was no fire.  I returned to my desk.  My wallet was there, my identity safely tucked inside each of the little slits meant to hold licenses, credit cards, rewards cards.  Life goes on as usual.

Sometimes, my mind wanders.

Who is Snoop Dogg and Why is he hanging around my dog house?

Today, over at Simple Dude in a Complex World, SD posted a blog about internet porn, which reminded me of a story from my convenience store days.

For most of my early 20's I worked off and on for a independently run Convenience store (as opposed to a chain like 7-11 or Mac's).  Our magazine rack was topped off by what was possibly the largest collection of porn to be found outside of any adults-only shop.  We also had a wide array of X-rated video-cassettes for sale, well out of reach of any young shoppers.

In SD's post he questions why anyone still buys porn when it's readily available on the internet.  I maintain that some people would rather shell out cash for DVD's than to pay someone to clean their hard-drive once a month.  Much like in real-life, the cheaper and easier porn is to acquire, the better chance of picking up a virus.

I have two stories related to the giant porno-fest that was the top-shelf of our magazine racks that stick out in my mind to this day.  One day, a girl about my own age comes in, and furtively starts checking through the tapes.  After picking one out, she approaches the counter, eyes down.  I ring it up, trying my damnedest not to smirk, but I'm kind of a child so I'm not doing a great job.

"It's not for me."
"Okay." It's none of my business, you know?
"It's my friend's birthday and we want to get him a gag gift.  My asshole friends made me buy it so they don't look like perv's."
"No worries.  That'll be [book value of VHS porn circa 2001], please"

She pays, takes the tape and skulks out.  I allow myself a bit of a giggle.  A few minutes later, the door jingles and she comes back in, beet red in the face.

"Hello, can I help you?"
"I can't fucking believe I'm asking you this...", she says, grumbling.  "Do you have anything with more lesbians?  Apparently I picked the wrong one because it doesn't have enough friggin' LESBIANS."
"I.. uh.. um.. don't really know what the um.. lesbian ratio is on any of these movies.  I haven't seen them.  Sorry."
"*sigh* it's okay.  gah. Idiots."

Goes over to shelf, grumbling to herself.  Comes back and slams another tape down on the counter and proclaims "I'm getting this one and if they don't like they can bloody well come back here and pick one themselves!!"

My other story involves a group of about 3 college aged guys that came in one day.   I smiled and giggled to myself as they were very loudly talking about the selection and I got the impression that this was another gag gift purchase.  They made no bones about being in a small-town convenience store buying porn, and I was having a hard time hiding my amusement.

Now, although I was fully aware that we had a well-stocked porn selection, I can't say I was real familiar with the specific titles we carried.  So I was totally unprepared when they came up and put this on the counter:

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I lost my shit, right then and there.  At that point in time I was complete unaware that Snoop Dogg had even produced porn, let alone that we had this little nugget right in our little convenience store.

I lost it.  In a completely uncompromising professional manner,  I started laughing hysterically and could not stop.  I tried to duck down behind the counter, but that was a completely pointless pursuit, so between giants gulps of air in an attempt to catch my breath, tears streaming down my face, I attempted to apologize.

"I'm sorry... hahah... I just... I mean I didn't know... SNOOP DOGG... BWAHHAHAHAH... omg.. don't mean to... *gasp* ... just didn't know... *giggle*  ....I'm so sorry.. *gasp*.... heheheheheh"

The guys, being in the jovial mood that they were, took my embarrassment from my outburst and just ran with it, feigning great indignance.

"Well, I never!"
"Where's your sense of professionalism?"
"They wouldn't have treated us like this at the Triple-X store!"

Finally I managed to catch my breath and ring them through, but I continued to giggle like an idiot for a good hour after they left.

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In other news, my friend Sean who blogs over at SeansJeep got called last night for the lung transplant he's been waiting on.  Last update was that he had come out of surgery with no complications.  So, although he's not completely out of the woods, that is very very good news indeed.  He's got a great support system and we've all be sending our thoughts, prayers, hoodoo and whatnot out for a good recovery.

Karaokeing tonight, haven't been down to the Legion since before Christmas I believe.  Feel like having some beers and belting some tunes.  There's a coffeehouse tomorrow night as well at a local church so I'll be packing the guitar up  and playing some songs there as well.

Enjoy your weekend, all.

This day was nothing short of ass-kicking awesome.

Okay.. one or two things could have made it better.. aside from the obvious improvement that ending the day with some dirty-hot yet wholly monogamous monkey sex would have made, it could have been better if I was able to get my mom the gift I wanted to get for her birthday tomorrow.. I have a contingency, but well.. you can't win em all, I guess.

Otherwise, this days' been pretty flippin' fantastic.  First, I just felt ridiculously cute all day.  I looked hot, okay?  It's not everyday that I can honestly say I look at myself and go 'Damn, you're SMOKIN' HOT today!'.  Today was one of those days.

On my travels to try and track down my mom's birthday present, I picked up a movie I have been wanting to see for some time now, Slap Shot with Paul Newman, for the ridiculously low price of a lousy six bucks.  Suh-Weet!  My dad's been telling me about this one for years.  Despite not being much of a sports fan, aside from hockey which I still only watch sporadically, I love sports movies with a passion on level with the passion with which I hate talking-animal movies.  The whole sport-movie genre is essentially a genre of underdog stories, and if there is one thing I love, it's a good underdog.  

I got the call that Wal-Hell tracked down some winter tires that will fit my car and they should be here for Friday, which is just in time, since I have an impromptu road trip for Tuesday now...

I got an email that I won tickets to see Finger Eleven in Kitchener next week through CHARTAttack.  Oh, and a complete discography (oooha oooha!) After figuring out that I was NOT out of the country that day, I messaged a friend of mine and invited her, which turned out to be a more fantastic idea than I could have possibly imagined as a) she's never been to a concert and B) she was planning to see these guys in the spring so I was all like "WELL LET'S FUCKIN' GOOOOOO THEN!" which made said friend uber-happy, thus in turn making ME uber-happy because shit, man, who doesn't love a road trip and a concert? A FREE concert, no less?

Even better, when I asked the ex-hub and the new-wife about taking the girls overnight that night, they were all 'Oh, we were hoping to keep them one night next week.  Tuesday sounds good.'  How easy was THAT?

So yeah, next Tuesday I'm going to get off work, drive 2.5 hours to Kitchener, attend a concert, come home and work the next day.  Because I am THAT effin' Hardcore.

Lastly, I got included in a Johnny Cash themed Etsy Treasury.  See that one down in the bottom right hand corner?  Those are my Johnny Cash coasters.  You bet your arse they are.  I feel like I've arrived in the crafting world.

Oh and since I haven't mentioned it in a bit, in a little over a week I will be out of this cold damp Canadian winter and basking in the all-inclusive glow of the Playa Dorada in Puerto Plata with two of my other best friends.  That in and of itself kicks a whole lot of ass.

Now I'm sitting here facebooking and blogging, and my hair is purple and I am nice and sore from getting my ass kicked at kick-boxing tonight, sore in the good way as it was a hell of a workout.  Got to use my Comic Life program for the first time in the four-someodd years I've had this computer, and oh yeah.. sleep is good too.  night night, y'all.

I've been blog critiqued

I recently had the honor of having my blog critiqued over at Rick's blog.  Richard is a pretty recent reader and it was an interesting experience getting an idea of the impression I've been giving out through this particular medium. 

I was concerned about this passage:

There's something going on. Things are not right. You are too bright a spark to be having these troubles. Call it an instinct, but my reading of your situation suggests that someone in your life is fucking with your head. Who is it? Is there someone you need to kill?

It concerns me, because I wonder if I really put across the idea that I'm mostly miserable?  I sure hope not.  In all honesty, putting aside the day-to-day foibles of fender benders and throat infections and the occasional irritating customer at work, my life is pretty decent.  Lovely, even.  But how to describe that?  How to describe it, when it can be so much more fun and releasing to get on a tangent about the little things that fuck up day to day?

In MacLennan's The Watch That Ends the Night, the narrator, George attempts to describe his wife whom he is deeply in love with, but finds himself at a loss and says that it is much easier for a man to describe his wife if he dislikes her.  I planned to quote this, but looking at my bookshelf I just remembered I lent it out to a friend.  Taking from MacLennan's idea, I find myself with much more to say when I am discontent.  When I am content, I have a tendency to just be, and not think or talk too much about it.  Maybe I just don't know how to express the positive or maybe I am fashioning myself as an adorable curmudgeon of sorts.  Who knows?  I guess it's not surprising when you look at the top five labels for this blog that they are as follows:

• Life in General
• Random Thoughts
• Grievances
• Music
• Kids

There you have it.  I talk about life.. sometimes my head is all over the place, I bitch about stuff, I play music and I have awesome kids that are fun to talk about.

True, I do try and keep them protected on here, both out of an ingrained media-fed fear of predators, as well as respect for their privacy now and in the future (I generally try to respect the privacy of most my loved ones on here) for which reason there will be no pics posted, but I will say I'm damn lucky to have two intelligent, kind, beautiful and FUNNY kids to call my own. 

I will add that I wasn't quite sure what Rick had meant about my third sentence in this post being a gem, because when I went back and read it, all I really saw was a run-on sentence but sometimes we're all our own worst critic.

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In other news, the hunt for snow-tires continues. The weather has warmed up a bit so the roads are clearing, and the automotive department at the local Wal-Hell has been on the hunt for tires in my size.  Normally I avoid the place like the plague, but fact is, tires there are going to cost me almost half of what I'd pay at any of the local independent tire places.  So yes, I'm selling a bit of my soul to the giant corporate devil, but I'll be able to drive my sellout ass around safely at least.

Took the girls out for a dinner and a movie night.  There were three options that may be suitable for kids playing.  Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, which was what I was rooting for, The Green Hornet and Yogi Bear.  Now, I knew that the girls would want to see Yogi Bear but the latest show was at 4:30 and I don't pick them up until 5:30. DARRRRRNNNNNNNN.

Not that I have anything against Yogi and BooBoo per se, but I have a thing against the recent spate of animated shows made into live action films, considering nobody's been able to do it even remotely well since The Flintstones .  You know Jason Lee?  I loved Jason Lee, until saw Underdog.  Then I saw Alvin and the Chipmunks.

Jason Lee is dead to me now.

Tom Cavanaugh is apparently in Yogi Bear.  You remember Tom Cavanaugh?  TV's Ed?  The "Here I Am On Georgian Bay and I'm Reminded of Light Beer?" Blue Light guy?

Photo Credit

On a side note, I so wanted to find a picture from when he was the Blue Light guy.  I loved that commercial, ever so much.  On another side note, the link where I got this photo from is an obituary for another Tom Cavanaugh who played for the San Jose Sharks.  Another Tom Cavanaugh who is not this guy, but they used his picture anyway.  Good Job, Zaffnews.

Sweet Laird Tunderin' Jaysus!  I found one of the commercials.. Not the Georgian Bay one, which was the best one, but the Niagara Falls one. Which is close enough.



Okay, I digressed huge there.  Point being, I don't want to see Yogi Bear, because I don't want to lose respect for Tom Cavanagh like I have for Jason Lee.  So that was a near miss.  I rooted for Harry Potter, but the girls wanted to see the Green Hornet.  I'm not too disappointed.  It was funny, action packed and I have such a soft spot for Seth Rogen, even when he's playing a pompous ass.. which he invariably is.

It probably wasn't the most appropriate choice for a family film with the language and the violence, but it was enjoyable. The 3-D experience was pretty wild as well.  

Oy.. had many intentions of getting lunches done tonight, but it's late and I should be heading to bed.  G'night all.

WWWednesday - or not.

So you may (because I like to pretend more people care what I write than probably do) have noticed a dearth of WWWednesday posts.  This is because I haven't actually been to weigh in since they changed the program and I'm really struggling with whether I want to go back or not.  I'm afraid of backsliding but I really have a bad taste in my mouth as far as the rampant corporatism goes.  Sigh.

I made banana bread tonight but I think I may have under cooked it.  It's a bit mushy.  I made a pretty cool comic-themed headband which will not be going on the Etsy store - no, this one will be for my own personal use.

jealous?  *nods knowingly* You're jealous.

Taking a cue from Saskatchewan's sexiest blogger, Tyler, I've had this song stuck in my head all day:



Apparently this is the song the Scott Pilgrim books and subsequently the film Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World film was named after. I can't tell if she's saying "I've liked you for a thousand years" or "I've liked you for a dozen years".

A quick Google search tells me it's thousand. This is comforting. I hate to think I've been singing it wrong. all. day. long.

BRAF. That is all.

Got a bug, it seems.

I had to leave my kick-boxing class early last night.  I was feeling kind of gross and bloaty upon leaving work, but I chalked it up to coffee OD.  Usually some hearty excercise is enough to get me feeling better.  However, after warm up and a round of jabbing and crossing while madly leaping around the room, I felt rather nauseated, and my body was hurting but not the good way it usually does during class.  So after attempting another round of increasingly high kicks and round houses, I decided I needed to go home.

By the time I got home I felt absolutely terrible and shaky.  I threw on a movie (rewatched The Trotsky - you can see my review here), and nearly fell asleep during it.  After putting the girls to bed, I tried to sit up a bit, then promptly ran to the bathroom and threw up, after which my body temperature dropped about 6 billion degrees and I was shaking uncontrollably.

In opposition to my usual night-owlishness, I went to bed around 9:45, under my duvet and a couple more layers of blankets.  I dreamed weird dreams, of which I remember little except for their weirdness.  Woke up drenched in sweat, and cursing my alarm (what else is new?)  For reasons unknown, even after a dizzy spell in the shower I still made my way into work.  Chomping back some ibuprofen seemed to help with the aches, but now I'm home and chilly and gross again.

The kids are eating Pizza mini's for dinner, because I'm totally half-assing it on the mom front tonight.  I'm hoping they clean their room without a fight, because frankly I'm too blah to really argue about it.

Time to retire to the chesterfield.  Yes, I said chesterfield.  This bugger is too damn big, heavy and unweildly to settle for the mere label of couch.

All shall quiver in the face of the immensity that is the

CHESTERFIELD!!!!!!

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.

They Won't Call You Shirley, Anymore.

From TMZ:

Legendary funny man Leslie Nielsen died today of complications of pneumonia in a hospital near his home in Fort Lauderdale, this according to his agent. He was 84.

Here's a better story from CBC News

We've lost a legend of comedy and a part of Canadian cinema's legacy.

I saw Naked Gun when I was around 8 and it was my first real foray into absurdist comedy.  Neilsen's deadpan delivery caught me, and kindled in me a love for the absurd.  From there I moved onto the films of Mel Brooks and Nielsen's own earlier work, Airplane.

In my opinion, he was under-rated as a dramatic actor, though.  One of my favorite roles was as Paul Gross' eccentric, 'shroom-growing, father in Men With Brooms.

As a country up until recently not particularly well known for our entertainers, Leslie Neilsen was someone I was proud to have represent our Nation in the entertainment industry.

Rest in Peace Mr. Nielsen.

Two movie reviews, a rant and an awesome link.

Just finished watching the second of two movies that a friend of mine burned a couple of weeks ago.  It's difficult finding time to do something as simple as watching a movie anymore but I got through them.  My thoughts:

The Runaways (B- oh, and my grading system is pretty arbitrary in case you were wondering)

Not a bad film, but of course with me, you can't go wrong with rock biopics.  It's the first time I've seen Kristen Stewart in a movie and I haven't wanted to punch her in the face, so good on her for that one.  I found her very believable as Joan Jett.  Let's put it this way.. with Dakota Fanning, I was watching Dakota Fanning play Cherie Curie, whereas I just felt like I was watching Joan Jett with Kristen's performance.

I had a hard time getting around the meta-teensploitation ick factor.  They're basically documenting how the Runaways as a band were exploited for their jailbait sex appeal by having Stewart and Fanning make out.  Weird.

That being said, I still thought it was a decent film.

The Trotsky (B)


First of all, since i first saw Highway 61 I've maintained that Canadian cinema is horribly under-rated.  Secondly, I'm officially adding Jay Baruchel to my list of awkward weedy shy-boy crushes. 
It was probably inevitable.  I thought the School admin's were a little too caricaturistically evil, since in real life a lot of teachers and principals are also pawns of the larger system.  But that didn't take away from my enjoyment.

Did I mention Jay Baruchel was fantastically awkward?  he may out-awkward Michael Cera.


So yeah, both pretty good films.  I saw the best friggin' thing on Etsy today.  I work in an office building that shares a parking lot with the Parole office (who have claimed about 15 reserved spots), a couple of smaller businesses and a Tim Hortons.  We have about 10 reserved spots, which was great when we had about 10 employees but now it's closer to 20, and we have to battle for spots.  So it's exceptionally frustrating when I come to work in the morning to this:

Or even more infuriatingly, this:

 

Okay, seriously Blogger and/or Tuxpaint?  That's supposed to say Asshole in Pickup truck.  FFS, people.

Anyway, I digress.. I've been looking for a nice passive-aggressive way to deal with this particular brand of jackass, and I think I may have found it:

Fuzzy Cute Bunnies with a Dark Side


Yes, ladies and gentlemen, handy little cards you can stick on someone's windshield just to let them know what a huge douche canoe they are for not being able to take a couple extra seconds to make sure other people have a place to park.

This may be the greatest thing ever.  Do Want.

The Bechdel Test for Women in Movies

A friend of mine recently posted a link to this short, but very interesting video regarding the Bechdel Test for Women in Movies.

As outlined in the video, these are criteria used to gauge female presence in a film summed up in three questions:

1. Are there more than two female characters (with names)?
2. Do they speak to each other?
3. Do they speak to each other about something other than men?

In going through my own video collection, as I was apt to do after watching this clip, I was surprised how few films even made it past the first question.  I was also surprised how many that did make it past were kid-oriented.

Here's a short list of the few movies I own that, to the best of my recollection, pass this test:

1. Ghost World - One of the main themes of the film is the tenuous connection between Enid and Becky
    
2. Go - Although kind of an ensemble cast, there's enough focus on Ronna and Clair as protagonists that they manage to make the cut
    
3. Drop Dead Gorgeous - Although hardly a feminist film (or, is it??  ... satire is funny that way) it passes the test easy.  There's barely a guy in the film, let alone as a main focus.
    
4. Bandits - A fantastic German film about four inmates from a womens correctional facility who break out of prison and go on the lam.. all the while being rockstars!  And it's presented much more realistically than it ever sounds like it could be.
    
5. Home for the Holidays - Relationships between mother and daughters, between sisters, between brothers and sisters, fathers and daughters... the post-dinner scene between Claudia and Joanne is enough to qualify it alone.  I should mention this is one of my favorites.
   
6. Juno - talking with your best friend and or step mom about how you got knocked up isn't quite the same as talking about guys, is it?   At any rate, I'm going to guess that talking to some random chick from school (who DOES have a name, I just don't remember) about fetuses with fingernails shouldn't.
   
   
7. Thelma and Louise - In its time it was hailed as a great feminist film, except if you consider our protagonists pay for their break from gender expectations with their LIVES.. See, ladies, that's what happens when you drink, flirt, get raped in a parking lot and flee the law after you blow his sodomizing brains away... your ass is getting driven off a cliff.  Now back in the kitchen and make me a sammich.
   
   Come to think of it.. I don't know if this one counts.. Davis and Sarandon actually do spend most of the film yakking about men - Thelma's douchebag husband, the guy who tried to rape her in the parking lot, the guy who raped Louise in Texas (okay, she spent a lot of the movie NOT talking about that guy), the guy who won't marry Louise, the douchebag cops who are trying to catch them, and let's not forget, Brad Pitt's sweet sweet theiving ass.  Ohmm.

Let's just take a moment to relive that particular moment, shall we?

I found a lot more kids movies met the criteria... I'm not going to go into detail, but some of the ones that we own that passed muster include:

• Matilda
• Madeline
• Eloise at Christmastime
• Ella Enchanted
• The Little Princess
• Willow (I was actually really excited when I realized this one counted.. Sorsha talks to Queen Bavmorda about Elora Dannon.. so it totally works!)

Anyway, I dare you all to take a look into your own collection and see what passes.

"Where's Those Ottomans At??"

I am thankful. (yes, a day late, a buck short). Speaking of a buck short, what I am most thankful for is that the GST/HST rebate finally showed it's little face in my mailbox. Time to beat back those wolves.

I'm thankful for a government that condescends to me by sending a quarterly pittance to 'make up' for the anal raping I take every time I purchase something non-grocery related. It ain't a perfect system but at least now I have some cash until the next pay comes in. The first half of the month is such a bitch, financially speaking.

A family friend gifted the girls and I a bag of VHS tapes, mostly kids movies, but there's a few grown-up goodies as well. One I look forward to is Scarface as it's one of those 'What-do-you-mean-you've-never-seen' movies. The first one was Reservoir Dogs. Okay, truthfully, the first one was the Princess Bride. In public school the phenomenon began.. "You've never seen the Princess Bride??" Ditto Labrynth. I think I was 22 and 25 respectively when I finally saw these two films.

However, Reservoir Dogs was the catalyst for a project I embarked on last year, where I endeavored to watch a movie a week over the span of a year, in order to finally see all of those 'must-sees' that I had missed over the years. Having solicited suggestions from a number of friends, I compiled a list around the time of my birthday. Some friends chipped in on a gift of five of the films listed. Over time, I got around to watching, oh about four of the films. Yup, those five I was gifted.

Having given myself a deadline, I became defiant and whenever I had a spare moment to movie-watch, I would find myself watching something I already knew and loved.

The 52 in 52 project was pretty much an epic fail. Such is life. At any rate, I have suggestions now on the odd occasion I decide to rent a movie.

I love watching previews from old videos. Tonight the girls popped in Ernest Scared Stupid (the under-rated comedic stylings of Jim Varney is a blog for another night) and the previews included Newsies (Christian Bale looks so YOUNG!), Straight Talk (Dolly Parton plays a advice 'Doctor' who is really an average nobody, a role Ashely Judd would reprise years later in Someone Like You - minus Giant Boobs, Giant Hair, and Giant Southern Accent) and one of my personal favorites, Encino Man. The under-rated appeal of Brendan Fraser is yet another blog for another night.

The best previews are the ones like Encino Man that are so horribly dated.. the music, the styles, the vast amounts of neon.. the idea that Pauly Shore was kind of funny. Gooood Times.

I just pulled Banana Bread out of the oven. It. Smells. Goo-oood. That's right, good enough for an extra syllable.