I’m About to Put the Hoity in Toity


(I apologize in advance. It’s the first time I’m doing an Oscar Commentary…I usually don’t give a crap. Frankly, I still don’t really give a crap. Don't ask me why I'm doing it. I'm bitter I suppose.)

The Oscars should be called the Annual Ass-Kiss-A-Thon
Let me start by saying that I didn’t really care about St.ar Jon.es, but now I can’t stand her.
Her red carpet gushing, insincere ass kissing was sick-making.
Skeletal Pe.nelope Cr.uz irritates me when she talks… like a fly buzzing around your head on a Sunday morning when you’ve got a hangover and only 2 hours sleep.
How many times did we need to see that clip of Ha.lle Be.rry blubbering about opening the door to black actors at the Oscars?
BTW, I like her better with short hair. Not too many women can do short hair without looking a little diesel.
Lose the extensions Ha.lle.
Renee, squinty Renee, looking all goth with the black hair and the cadaver colouring…dragging that train across the floor…if she weighed more, it wouldn’t have been so hard…tsk tsk.

What is with the blondes with Brunette envy? Renee, Drew…I have a sneaking suspicion it’s so that they can wear dark eyeliner without looking like Cour.tney Lo.ve.
Cou.rtn.ey Lo.ve ruined black eyeliner for everyone.

Bey.once singing in French with an American accent with disturbing yellowy/green baby puke coloured eye shadow….pretty….um…different.

A Few Mean Questions:

Do U.ma Thu.rman, Ka.te Win.slett and Ca.te Blan.chett have the same plastic surgeon?
Just asking.

Did Leo forget that it was just a role?

Oh…Kirs.tin Du.nst didn’t look like a cleaning lady…Go Kir.stin!!!

When did Mi.ke My.ers turn into one of Queer Eye for the Straight Guy guys?

Was that Sideshow Bob gigging with The Co.unting Cr.ows?

Was A.l Pac.ino dragged through a bush backwards?

When C.li.nt East.wo.od crosses his legs, does his mouth involuntarily snap open?

Was Bey.once all they could afford this year?

If teal is making a comeback, does that mean puce has a chance?

Could Ant.onio Ba.nd.eras look ANY greasier?

Who scared An.ne.tte Be.nn.ing? Or does she just have C.lay Ai.tkins hairdresser?

Is it me? Or does Pu.ffdi.tty have a gigantic cranium? Could it be that his huge ego is finally blowing hot air up his neck and expanding his head?

Is Pri.nce (and I love Prince) starting to look like a young Diah.ann Ca.rol?

What is up with actors calling every fucking movie a “journey”?

Ok…I’m tired now.
I’ve had enough.
I’m sure you have too.

P.S.
Chris Rock.
He kicked ass in the opener.
I think anyway.

Today while out and about, I was lined up behind a couple of adorable little senior citizens.
Ruth Gordon was unloading the cart while George Burns was putting paid for bags in another cart.
Suddenly, I heard a "clack"....I looked over and George's teeth were on the floor.
It was the most graceful save I've ever seen.
I think I might have been the only person who saw that he had actually dropped his smile onto the tile floor.
He picked them up and they were back in before you could say "Glen Miller".

Compliment of the Month

Smith: "You know, everyone says that you're a hoity toity bitch...but really, you're not".

Me: "Erm, thanks".

Jones: (he's standing next to me): "Actually, you are a hoity toity bitch".

My clever reply?

Me: "Takes one to know one".

The only thing I forgot to do was stick my tongue out.
How's that for hoity toity?

What's Happening to Us?



This evening while I was waiting for the light to change on a west end street, I watched as a blind man stuck his white cane out and started walking out into the intersection on a red light, on the opposite side of the road.
A car honked and sped past, and he quickly stepped back obviously startled, lost his footing on the snowbank and wobbled.

My hand flew to my mouth, and my mother escaped through my lips with an upwards "hhhhhheeeeee"....and then I watched as he fell backwards onto the sidewalk.

I sat in my car, willing the people around him to help him up.
There were two men standing at the light on either side of him, who didn't even turn around.
"Help him, you fucking bastards!!!!"
"Jesus Christ!!!! I can't believe this!!!"
People sped past, he found his footing and got up.
Stood up straight, and waited.

The light changed, and everyone around him started to cross the road.
No one alerted him, but I guess he realized that people were moving, and he started across too.

This disturbed me.
What is happening to us?

Ok.
Just a quick note to let you all know that I'm not dead.
Just busy.

I've got that speech thing going on tonight.
I don't know if you remember last years post about public speaking...but....

I HATE IT!!!!

So, last night I had a million dreams about all kinds of shit...but here's the kicker:
One of the dreams I had was of being so tired that I couldn't keep my eyes open.
In my dream I was desperately trying to stay awake.

How stupid is that?

To be sleeping and dreaming that you can't stay awake.

Oh...and just before I go, here's a pearl of wisdom from Mama:

"No Money, no funny".

Walken and Talkin'



I'm a huge fan of Christopher Walken.
Not only can he play the creepiest of characters, he's also hilariously funny.

I recently purchased one of the "Best of SNL" DVDs.
Christopher Walken hosts this one, and it just reminded me why I think he's so great.
My favourite character is "The Continental".
The classic low rent Eastern European playboy.
Chris is perfect.

Then...I remember The Weapon of Choice Video by Fatboy Slim
And I love him all over again.

MORE COWBELL!!!

Years ago when I was in school, I worked as a Bartender in a downtown Toronto bar.
I worked with a man named Gus.
I’m not exactly sure what Gus did, other than bring the beer up and do odd jobs about the place, except that Gus was what you would call a “character”.
He was little and bald, with a look of determination on his face at all times.
He worked harder than all of us "younguns" put together.

Gus did and said things that would in this day and age, bring the Human Rights Commission down on your employers ass in a millisecond.

I don’t think Gus ever knew anyones’ proper name.
He called you by the country of your nationality.
I was called “Yugoslavia”, Pronounced “Jew-go-slav-ee-a”.
My co-worker Elena was called “Italia”.
The cook Bing was called “China”…and so on.
It occurred to me today that he would be soooo fired in todays’ politically correct world.
Back then, we just laughed at him, and imitated him.

No one took offense.
No one reported him.
No one cared.

Then, I went on to think about sitcoms like “All in the Family”.
When we really think about it, a show like that would be totally unacceptable in todays world. Even though there were and are people just like Archie Bunker walking around.

It really makes me wonder…
Are we further ahead?
Or are we going backwards?
Are we in denial?

We have gone so far into the world of politically correct that we’ve become intolerant of reality.

I think that is funny.

All this legislation to protect all of us from words.
It’s not the words that do the harm.
It’s the actions of others.

Gus was who he was.
He didn’t mean to degrade us with his “pet” names.
At least he didn’t seem to do it with malice.
I think our world was just a little more fun with old guys like Gus around.

Black Women Love Us

From time to time when The Mister and I are out and about, I lock eyes with a black woman who hates me just for being with him.
It's always disconcerting for me, since I'm never thinking:
"Hey, I'm married to a black guy!! I'm really stickin' it to those black women"
So it always bewilders me when I lock eyes with a woman of colour who looks at me with visible venom and hate.

This evening, The Mister and I were out for a Valentines dinner, when I happened to glance over at a black woman who was staring at me from across the room.
Her fixed eyes were filled with malice and disgust.
Then, she quickly looked away.
Which of course made me look at her regularly.
Everytime I turned to look at her.
She would lock eyes with me for a moment, with that same look of hatred, and then look away.
I mentioned it to The Mister, who usually smiles and waves at the person.
He didn't tonight though.
I think she scared him.
She was quite mean looking.

It's times like this when I wonder why it matters to anyone.
I know that to some, this is a naive question.
But really.
I don't care what white men do, and you won't catch me staring down some black woman out with her white husband.
I just don't have that kind of contempt or hate for other people.

I forget that there are issues and angers that people have with interracial relationsips.
Both black and white...

But it still surprises me when it happens.
We're not nearly as evolved as we think.

Short Memory, Long Effects



I was reading an article called Return to Sender: An Orphans Tale in The Toronto Star yesterday.
It's about the Romanian orphans our hearts went out to in the early ninties, and how the sentiments and sympathies are similar with tsunami victims and their orphans.
The article focuses on a young girl who was adopted by a Canadian family, and then sent back on a plane five months later when the family decided that they had perhaps bitten off more than they could chew.
It tries through this story to encourage us to not make the same mistakes with tsunami disaster orphans.

The article points out that victims of disaster, and cultural turmoil and war come with a plethora of problems that prospective adoptive parents must consider before they embark on the adoption trail.

I know.
You're thinking: "Why...of course you would consider the problems that a child like that might come with, and whether or not you're prepared to handle it!"

The idea that you would sign up for something like this, and then resign a few months later, sending the child back like she's a package, or a pet that you got for Christmas that "didn't work out", and now you're sending her to the Humaine Society.

People who are charitable know that "good" comes from long time commitment to good done for the sake of what is right and good.
Not done so that your neighbours can think that you are charitable.
Not done so that you can mention it at cocktail parties.
Not done so that the person you do it for can tell you over and over how grateful they are.

Done from your heart.
Started from compassion, and when you think that perhaps it was harder than you anticipated...continued out of commitment to an innocent child, and a conscience to do what is right.
A dedication to do what you said that you would do.

Return to Sender, will be shown Monday on CBC's The Passionate Eye. It tells the extraordinary story of Alexandra Austin, a 22-year-old Romanian woman adopted at age 9 by well-to-do Ontarians, and five months later put back on the plane to Romania.

I hope that the Physicians family in Ancaster, Ontario that sent Alexandra back to Romania 12 years ago, are reminded of the effect that they had on another human life.

Are You Your Mothers' Favourite?



I marvel at the differences between siblings and the assumption that all of the children in a family are loved equally.

Some children kill themselves to please their parents, only to have all the attention and praise go to the wayward child in the family.

Some children work at being “the black sheep”, to make sure that they are nothing like any of the others in the house.

Some children are selfish and uncaring to their family, yet are kowtowed to by their parents in hopes that their behaviour gets better.

When I hear a parent say:
“I love all my children the same”,
I don't believe them.

I believe that people love their children differently, not necessarily equally.

Let’s face it….
Some people are just harder to love.

"...The Capilphanos' granddaughter living without her mother, Mr. Zipkin losing his job, and Mrs. Hennessy getting robbed. I sat there on the porch, with a cigarette and another glass of wine, listening to the crickets and the occasional car. It occurred to me that the quiet of the suburbs had nothing to do with peace".
Melissa Bank - The Girls Guide to Hunting and Fishing

Our neighbours are nice people.
Pardeep and Cala are a nice couple.
They are friendly and easy.
I leave cards in their mailbox wishing them a happy and healthy Diwali, and they bestow me with delicious Indian sweets in mine.
Our talks are corralled to the driveway and I've only been inside once, when Cala generously lent me a sari for a school unit on India one year.
I told her how beautiful, wonderful and graceful looking saris were, and how I longed to wear one.
She encouraged me, and offered one from her closet for me to keep.
I declined only because I know how expensive they can be and didn't want to take advantage of a gift that I would not have been able to pull off with the grace that women who grew up wearing them could give expression to.

It was with sadness and compassion that I came to know that Cala and their eldest son were bi-polar.
The eldest boy had his first episode after he was beaten at school by a gang of bullies in 11th grade.
Sometimes, I would stand on the landing and watch this boy in the winter shovelling snow by himself by moonlight late at night.
Pardeep said that he likes to be alone...and out in the night, in the snow, he always looked just like that - alone.

I felt for him.
A young man disconnected.

Pardeep told The Mister and I not to be alarmed if we saw the police at their home on occasion, and shared some of the life and things that he dealt with on a daily basis.

One morning Pardeep announced that he had had an aneurism and that he was now blind in his left eye.
"My headlight is out!" he exclaimed laughing.
Yet, every spring he marvels at The Misters garden and proclaims "the beauty and miracle of God, and nature".

And the police come.

And Pardeep takes care of his family.
And every dusk, I see Pardeep and Cala out for their evening stroll together, sometimes with their eldest.
Side by side.

And I watch for a moment from my step, and think to myself:

"This is a man worth his salt."

News Flash



One of my biggest maladies is my tendency to "blurt".
I fight the urge to say the first thing that comes to my mind...quite often.
Sometimes I catch myself in time.
Sometimes I don't.

I appreciate honesty.
Personally, I'm ok with someone who is blunt, as long as they can take what they give.
But, out in the world, I've noticed that the larger portion of the population is hyper-sensitive, and ready to take offense at the mere suggestion of a truth, never mind both barrels.

Before The Mister and I got married, one of his friends wives sat me down with a glass of wine and a cigarette and asked me bluntly, if I knew "what I was doing". She went on to remind me that I was a young attractive, and smart woman, and did I know what I was signing up to "marry a man with two children from a previous relationship, and an insane ex?"
At that time I didn't know her all that well, and I was a little taken aback.
But, I knew that she was just vocalizing what many people around me were thinking, but not saying, and from that moment on, I decided that I liked her.

I am sometimes reminded that acting on impulse can be detrimental.
This story has nothing to do with honesty, but I remembered it this morning as I was headed to work in the dark.

One -23C January morning, I left our Balliol Street apartment at 5:50am to go to work. I'm not a morning person, so to say that I am generally not all that alert until mid morning is not an exaggeration.

At 5:50am, I am practically sleep walking.

So, on my way up a dark uptown street I notice a guy standing by the side of the road. I think nothing of it, because, well...I'm not with it that early in the morning. As I approach him, I notice that he's wearing all black...when suddenly he pulls down his pants and proceeds to choke Yul Brynner.

I thought:
"Holy shit!!! It's so cold, it's a wonder it doesn't snap off in his hand..."

I said:
"Oh gimme a fuckin' break!!! It's not even 6 in the morning yet, you fuckin' asshole".

and kept walking.

He said something that got carried away in the tundra wind that was blowing, and it wasn't until I got to the corner Second Cup coffee shop that I realized that he could have grabbed me by the hair and dragged me behind a bush.

I told Norbert, the owner of the coffee shop what had happened, and he rolled his eyes and said, "Eh..not HIM again", and proceeded to call the police on my behalf.
I spoke with a constable on the phone, filed a report over the phone and headed to work.

I'll not forget that morning.
Now, whenever it's dark, and I'm by myself...I'm super aware of what's going on around me.
It was my little epiphany at the corner, just before my first coffee on a really cold January morning.

Because Jacqueline Said So...

A meme from Norge Thingy

1.What was the last movie you went to see in a theatre?
Meet The Fockers - Eh...I could have waited for the DVD

2. What is the last movie you watched at home?
Napoleon Dynamite

3. How many movies do you own?
About 30

4. What was the last movie you bought?
A Serbian movie called: Srce i njena deca (The Heart and Her Children-Has a double meaning)

5. Got Netflix (or a similar service)?
Nope. I'm ok with satellite.

6. List five movies you adore / mean a lot to you

1.) To Sir With Love – I love that movie. I think it might have inspired me to teach.

2.) Beautiful Girls – There's something about sitting on the cusp of having to become an adult.

3.) Young Frankenstein – I don't care how many times I see this, it can make me laugh.

4.) Paris is Burning – What can I say? I totally LOVE drag queens.

5.) Fiddler on the Roof - This movie totally reminds me of my grandparents, and their farm. When I first saw this movie as a child, I thought I was related to Topol.

7. Name your guilty pleasure film?
The Wedding Singer – I don't know why, but I think it might have something to do with the '80's, and how I remember that decade.

8. What's your favorite quote from a film?

“You took the worst quality, because you have the best quality heart." – One of the Mothers in The Joy Luck Club

’So it is written, so it shall be done...’ – Yul Brynner - The Ten Commandments. (I'm a list maker, what can I say?)

‘Ice cold martinis, The Sunday Times, and the words 'good night sweet girl'...that's all I need from my guy. I'm simple I know...’ – Uma Thurman - Beautiful Girls.

‘You make me want to be a better man’ – Jack Nicholson - As Good as it Gets.

9. Name Three people who you will pass these questions on to.

Mr. Mystic, Katerina & Reecie

Funny Commercials


I added the "car insurance part"

There is a Sta.te Fa.rm commercial running right now that puts me in fits of laughter every time I see it.

Here is the scene, with my thinking sprinkled thoughout:

The Narrator is "Dad" who tells us about how his daughter had her drivers license for 15 minutes before she had her first accident.
He then goes on to tell us that his St.ate Fa.rm agent "treated her like a daughter".
(That's right, because now the whole family is Sta.te Far.ms' bitch for the next decade.)
Dad goes on to tell us how wonderful the agent was, and how he's like "part of the family".
(Yeah, that's because now I am part of your family. You won't be able to leave State Farm for at least 10 years while we suck inflated insurance rates out of you, and no other insurance company will take you at a lower rate because of the rating we give you)

These kinds of commercials kill me because they insult us.
To me, this commercial says:
"You're a sucker, and and there's nothing you can do about it because you have to drive. But hey, we'll patronize you and insult your intelligence with this commercial and pretend like we give a shit about you as people".

That's all.

My Old Friend is Blogging


Mr. Mystic (not his real name) is an old, old friend of mine.

Years ago, we didn't much care for each other.
He was the husband of my best friend in high school.
She was an opportunistic sociopath, and it took me a long time to drop her from my life.

That is neither here nor there.
When Mr. Mystic and she finally parted ways, I became friends with him and realized that he wasn't who I thought he was, and he realized the same thing about me.

In the meantime, he hooked up with someone who became an important person in my life.
A person who helped me through one of the most difficult times in my life.
A person who remains one of my best friends.

Sonja.

Mr. Mystic is one of the biggest ranters I have ever known in my life.
If anyone needs a blog, he does.

He's just starting up.
He's not nearly even beginning to show the rants I've heard in person...
If you get him going, he can be a gigantic British mouth off.
I love it with a good smoke and a pint.

Mr. Mystic
Check him out.

I’m a brand whore.
I change brands of anything and everything.
This explains why I have half used bottles of hair products littering the insides of my bathroom cupboards.

I will change brands faster than an Amsterdam pickpocket can cut your wallet out of your pants.

I’m also a boycotter.
If you give me bad service, you’ll never see me again, and I’ll send a long ass letter of complaint to your head office.

I once went to a chain oil changing establishment.
For the sake of argument, let’s call the place “Sister Boob” (Canadians will recognize what the name should be).
Where upon driving into the bay, I said to the very young employee:

“Don’t tell me about anything that you think I need. I have my own mechanic. I only want an oil change”.

Young employee came back 7 minutes later and this is how the exchange went:

Snot Nosed Employee: “You need a fuel injection blahblahblah,and your blahblah, needs to be changed, and your air filter…”

Me: (interrupting) “I have a mechanic, I asked you to please just give me an oil change, and not give me your maintenance advice”.

Snot Nosed Employee: “Ma’am (He’s not making friends
with me by starting his sentence with that word), I’m only trying to tell you what your car needs.”

Me: “I told you when I came in that I have a mechanic, and I only want an oil change. I don’t need your maintenance advice. And, I can’t afford all the things you’re suggesting.”

Snot Nosed Employee: “Well, if you can’t afford to maintain your vehicle, you shouldn’t be driving”.

Me: (fucking furious) “EXCUSE ME??? Spoken like a snot nosed kid who still lives at home with mommy and daddy paying his bills!!!”

I left that place, wrote a snarky letter to head office, never received a reply and never, ever used the services of said company again.
And still will not.
Eight years later.

The Mister on the other hand is loyal.
If he likes your product, he’ll put up with your crap.
The Mister likes Jerk Chicken from a certain establishment.
This establishment doesn’t really care if you come back or not.
Their staff is slow and surly, and it’s not unusual for you to wait 25 minutes or more, with no apology.
Even if you are the only person to walk in the door, the server will take her sweet time even looking at you, much less ask you what you want.
A smile is absolutely out of the question.

I refuse to go there.
The Mister likes their food enough to tolerate their surly, valium induced pace.

Not me.
What about you?