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Fail On The Ice

So, remember how a few weeks ago I was all "Oh, I'm TOTALLY going to watch The Battle of the Blades because I love my cheese TV?" Well, Canada, I tried to. I tried to, but it was the most amateurish and awkward ten minutes I had ever wasted on any show. And I watched the entire season of Bachelorettes in Alaska: Looking for Love, so I know of what I speak.

It's hard to pick just one way in which the show failed. Maybe it was the Dancing With The Stars-like move of having the practiced, female partners gyrate suggestively to mask the fact that the male partners can't dance, or rather, skate? That Kurt Browning and Ron MacLean seemed perpetually out of breath?

No, it would be that Dick Button's scoring monitor didn't work. Yes, this crucial part of the show wasn't checked before the CBC put this thing live to air. No 6.0 for you, CBC.


The Good, The Bad and the Funny

Three Things Or So...Collapse )Man, sorry to let my angry screed about Roman Polanski stay up there for so long. I meant to post something else, but I then life kept on getting in the way. Except for Thursday, since that was Day 4 of Project: Protagitron becomes a hermit and there was just no excuse. So without further ado, three little things about last week:

1. The Good: There's been a lot of this lately. I did nothing but knit and watch movies, curled up next to my cat, for four days. I had an amusing run-in with an old crush object, proving I am genetically incapable of pretending not see one convincingly. And pretty much the whole weekend so far has been awesome, from having curry with friends to seeing one of them kick ass playing lacrosse. Those girls aren't quite as nasty as womens rugby, but they're still pretty fierce. But so far, the biggest "good" has been seeing Dragonette with the delightful Poli and Amanda. We danced. Oh, how we danced. Except to music that was more like this. When I grow up, I want to have cheekbones like Martina Sorbara.

2. The Bad: I always thought the catty bitch thing was just a high school movie trope. And even then, the catty bitch always gets hers in the final act. But no! When I was on the bus, this horrendous girl behind me tore into some friend's girlfriend in a way that made me feel as if I had fallen into a John Hughes movie. It started off with "I just don't think her personality is sparkling enough to make up for how fat she is. I really think he's a chubby chaser," and then went on for ten minutes of the most vile shit I had ever heard. It was hard to choose which was the biggest turd sentence: "But personality comes in a lot of sizes. Why couldn't he get one that was thin?" or "She's like the pair of pants that're too big for him but he still wears." Really, honey? It's not like women don't get enough shit about their bodies already from the media, so just go on ahead and do the dirty work for them.

3. The Funny: I tend to speak quickly and somewhat sloppily. Usually this just leads to people asking "What?" a lot and my mom imploring me to speak properly. But the other day at work, my adorable desk neighbor asked: "Is that an accent, or is it just the way you talk?" Heh. The next time someone asks me "What?" I'm just going to plead it's my impenetrable Southwestern Ontario accent. Thick as pea soup, it is.

*She ordered from an Etsy seller, SophiesBeads, if you want to get your own.</div>


Plant Killah

I think it's time to accept the fact that my orchid plant is dead. First I over-watered it, then I under-watered it and then I decided at the 11th hour to have a regular watering schedule and try and tend the thing.

Unfortunately the top part looks suspiciously like a Tim Burton film (curled and choppy) and the bottom isn't looking too hot either. Rest in peace, brave orchid, and at least you fared better than the Indian Rubber Plant I used to dump my orange juice into. Fermentation is only a good thing in wine and beer, people.

Anyway, I'm beginning to wonder if my inability to keep houseplants alive is a sign of some pathological inability to settle down. I've been in this apartment since July and some of the rooms still look as if I haven't fully moved in yet. I bought a curtain rod at Ikea two or three weeks ago I still haven't got around to putting up. It just sits there, mocking me with its industrious Helvetica font and easy mounting system.

But I've decided not to worry about it and buy the only solution: an aloe vera plant. Those things are nigh impossible to kill.


The WASPiest Thing Ever

Those of you who know me outside of this blog know that, in spite of being half-Ukrainian, I have one of the WASPiest names on record. My name is the mayonnaise of names. The country club. The black watch plaid blanket, etc.
Click to see what it might be!Collapse )


I Love You, Canada

Okay, I have a maple-flavored confession: I'm kind of excited for the Battle of the Blades. Why? Let's see. I like cheesy dance competitions. I was forced to like figure skating by my Mom, although lingering bitterness towards Elvis Stojko remains. I often tolerate hockey. Combine these things and CBC's low production values and sense of earnestness, and you get something I'll definitely sit in front of when I'm eating dinner from a can.
More CanCon Corn!Collapse )

Damn Woman Troubles: Jennifer's Body


Better watch out for the queen bee.Collapse )
Don't go and see Jennifer's Body if you want to be scared. It's not a horror movie. Sure, it sounds like one, with half-eaten corpses and a good girl named Needy who suspects that something's gone wrong with her best friend Jennifer. Yes, Needy, she's "not just high school evil" or, to paraphase a line from Ginger Snaps, another movie full of girls gone bloodthirsty and feminist goodies, there's something wrong with Jennifer. More than her just being... female.

Yes, once again the female body is used to juice up a horror movie, to give it some edge and a veneer of social commentary. Just like a typical chiller, there's a satanic ritual that leads to the lovely Jennifer getting all chewy on some boys. But atypically, there's very little tension or gore. If you're a hardcore horror fan, you can guess when every scare is being set up.

And then you'll wait, and wait, because Karyn Kusama's just a beat off when it comes to the jump tactics. At one point, Needy suddenly sees a bloody and wild-looking Jennifer crossing the road. Then she disappears, and Needy desperately scans to the left and the right, barely giving herself time to look right in front of her. Of course you know that's just where will be. Jennifer suddenly appears on the windshield, but not before Needy looks a few more times at each side. It's hard to jump when you're checking your watch.

But should you go and see it if you're looking for something feminist to chase down your popcorn? Maybe yes, maybe no. I can see readings that work both ways. This movie doesn't shame female sexuality like most horror movies, and particularly slashers, do. But Needy's eager and awkward sex is framed completely differently than Jennifer's carnivorous lust. The consensus on female sexuality in this movie seems to be that it's just fine, as long as it's with a boy who's as quirky as you. Things go wrong when you play the field, or when you finally let the textual lesbian relationship in the open in a somewhat porny scene.

And that still doesn't get into how your enjoyment of the movie will depend on your personal thoughts on Diablo Cody: screenwriter, celebrity and lover of all things leopard print. The script definitely sounds like one of hers, sometimes funny, often annoying. If hearing "What's up, Monistat?" doesn't make you twitch, you like your feminism taken lite and you don't need to be scared, it's worth a trip to the cinema.


To Guelph!

I'm off to the hometown tomorrow. I'm sure Proustian reveries set off by farmer's market bacon, or at least beer illicitly drank in the basement, are not far off.

At least I usually get some decent thrift store finds.Quick Thoughts On Little Ashes AheadCollapse )


Ideals + Reality= Mediocrity

Between temporarily turning into one of those house-proud loons over the weekend (every big thrift store AND Ikea- my feet were ground into nubs) and my current flaking out on a movie, I'm wondering if I'm turning into one of those people. You know who they are. The ones who always say they want to go out more, but never do because they have a date with an Allen wrench and a Pflüg. Or because they're making something from the new Bon Appetit. Or because they're part of a couple and need to do boring couple-y things together. No howler monkey sex allowed.

But the truth is, I'm rather enjoying cocooning myself in blankets with only the cat for company for the moment. Well, on a physical level. Mentally, I'm all aboard the guilt train. What should I be doing with my time instead? Oh, I have so many ideas.

Proactive Urge: Go see Sorority Row! See friends!
Lazy Consciousness: Buh. Brain tired. Movie looks silly. Can watch old Black Christmas at home. Original The House On Sorority Row too if feeling more appropriate/masochistic.
Compromise: Watch first half of most recent Mad Men episode before the streaming video causes my computer to crash.

Proactive Urge: Find out about world! Read important-sounding article in the Times with headline "U.N. Finds Signs of War Crimes on Both Sides in Gaza."
Lazy Consciousness: Ugh. Depressing. Nobody wins, everybody loses, etc.
Compromise: Read "Habitats: Meow Spoken Here" and take notes.

Proactive Urge: Read Lost Girls
Lazy Consciousness: Ugh, Alan Moore so talky. Melinda Gebbie's art so pencil-y. Lesbian sex...
Compromise: Read about lesbian sex? Sure thing!

Proactive Urge: Get angry about Tucker Max's upcoming movie and his current legion of asshat fans. Find a way to stop this movie without somehow giving it more publicity.
Lazy Consciousness:
Fighting losing battle. White, soulless straight dudes will always win. Especially when they have little people conventions to write about/ have sex at. Donate all posessions and earnings to NOW before moving to shack in the Arctic.
Compromise: Mentioning it on this blog.