Oh the holidays...bringing us all a bevy of middle aged woman one-ups-manship.
Whether it be Clubhouse gravy (not from scratch?)
Hideous HomeSense golden sparkle-vases...(head-tilt twenty dollar limit) or
Glad--eh scented candles from a top secret boutique/spa,
It turns out that your personal accomplishments are worth nothing unless they reduce somebody else to worthlessness.
It seems that as far as commercials go, once you hit forty you only have friends as dojo dummies to practice your christmas ninjitsu on.
Stereotypical ladies, why do you begrudge your friends good smelling houses and sweet deals on housewares? What happened to real friends?
Are these the same girls you shared interests with and confided in before it became your sole purpose in life to shame those whose gravy has less zing? Or did you just pick them up at your kids soccer game because you needed to feel better than someone.
And this isn't just offensive to home makers- reducing the hard work they do to pre menopausal cat fights. It's about everyone.
Who could possibly relate to this petty nonsense?
And even if she could relate, what woman would admit that her world was that small?
Maybe it's just that perfection is demanded in absolutely every aspect of life, right down to house scents.
These spew-ltide hits could just be extensions of those insipid yogurt and vitamin supplement commercials where a mom - just goes about her day from the gym to soccer practice to work, all miraculously without caving to osteoporosis.
Wow. Could living every day really be that easy?
Yes it could!
Do your kids really need freshly baked cookies in their lunch every day? Is it really important that you're in the PTA or worse, the Parent Band Association? Old textbooks are one thing, but how bad could band possibly get?
When I was in junior high, they brought in a random college kid to direct the jazz band.
Thanks band association!
-not that he didn't do a good job.
Women of the world... be defiantly imperfect. Don't just go over the twenty dollar limit- go ten dollars under. A ten dollar gift card from Starbucks can get you almost two lattes.
That's all anybody really wants anyway.
HomeSense's Hideous Interpretation of Reality
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Blended Expectations- Gina DeBrincat Book Launch
I had planned for the last two week to attend the Matrix of the Blended Family book Launch by Gina DeBrincat at Aqua Books, on Tuesday, November 30 at 7 pm. Little did I know that there seem to be more good commercials than bad commercials in entire universe and I was at the Cannes Lions extravaganza until exactly 7. Fine, I thought, I have my car and its only on Garry St., I'll be there before it even gets underway. However, I forgot to take into account my supreme idiocy and I wandered around until I got stuck on Donald with creeping traffic and no way to change lanes until I found myself in one of the few places I can navigate home from, Little Italy...yes I know, sad indeed.
Anyway, it's too bad because I've always been interested in the dynamic of blended families because many conservatives blame the fall of the traditional family for the shortcomings in kids today. Then again, there's always the question of if there even is a change in kids today or is it the tired case of any discrepancy from one generation to the next breeding fear in the elders that their offspring will not be successful by their standards because we want different things out of life. Is obedience a product of respect or fear? In unquestioning subservience a quality we should want in our children? Or do kids actually crave the conventional family structure?
I won't actually give my answers to these questions because it seems that valuable that can be said will inevitably get you in trouble. Suffice it to say that I its a topic that I am invested in.
Apparently the book isn't only a perspective, its also somewhat of a handbook with specific insights to the problems blended families face.
By the way, incase you're confused, or for some reason only read blog posts from the middle down, I never actually made it there, I wandered around sick for an hour and missed my last chance at a good mark. Luckily, the assignment is still completed, just the mark wouldn't be what I had hoped for. So It seems that for decent mark-getting, I had one of two options, lie and make an exceedingly general post and use the picture from the website- maybe put it on photoshop and put it in a different background, or tell the truth and possibly squeeze out an extra half mark for entertainment.
SQUEEEEEZZEEEE, that one was for you Karen :)
Can't blame me for trying-unless it turns out you can, in which case I'm sorry.
After much deliberation, I decided I wasn't quite cheeky enough to include a picture of the 7-Eleven I pulled into on Corydon to turn around in the blinding snow at the moment of my defeat. sigh.
www.aquabooks.ca
Anyway, it's too bad because I've always been interested in the dynamic of blended families because many conservatives blame the fall of the traditional family for the shortcomings in kids today. Then again, there's always the question of if there even is a change in kids today or is it the tired case of any discrepancy from one generation to the next breeding fear in the elders that their offspring will not be successful by their standards because we want different things out of life. Is obedience a product of respect or fear? In unquestioning subservience a quality we should want in our children? Or do kids actually crave the conventional family structure?
I won't actually give my answers to these questions because it seems that valuable that can be said will inevitably get you in trouble. Suffice it to say that I its a topic that I am invested in.
Apparently the book isn't only a perspective, its also somewhat of a handbook with specific insights to the problems blended families face.
By the way, incase you're confused, or for some reason only read blog posts from the middle down, I never actually made it there, I wandered around sick for an hour and missed my last chance at a good mark. Luckily, the assignment is still completed, just the mark wouldn't be what I had hoped for. So It seems that for decent mark-getting, I had one of two options, lie and make an exceedingly general post and use the picture from the website- maybe put it on photoshop and put it in a different background, or tell the truth and possibly squeeze out an extra half mark for entertainment.
SQUEEEEEZZEEEE, that one was for you Karen :)
Can't blame me for trying-unless it turns out you can, in which case I'm sorry.
After much deliberation, I decided I wasn't quite cheeky enough to include a picture of the 7-Eleven I pulled into on Corydon to turn around in the blinding snow at the moment of my defeat. sigh.
 |
| Gina DeBrincat |
www.aquabooks.ca
Monday, November 29, 2010
The Sweet Escape- By Breanna Perrelli
Arwin held his piping bag in one hand and pinned his small round-framed glasses against his nose with the other. As he leaned in close, he chuckled to himself. Six years ago, I would have never given the size of my head a second thought. These days all of my wildest fantasies involve me having a giant velcro face to hold these damn lenses in place. “There.” he gasped as he delicately squirted the final tiers of suspended royal icing on his drop lace cupcake. Normally reserved for their most decadent clientele, this lavender-iced, chocolate-ganached wonder had been a thirty-minute labour all for himself. As his open day planner on the far left of his work table indicated, today was the sixth anniversary of his glorious escape.
He remembered that sunny afternoon in March six years before, in the light of a small window, she, who was so unlike Martha, had walked straight around his computer desk, seen the misshapen flower he was struggling with on Paint and smiled. For that brief hour, the world was teeming with potential. She was alight with anticipation for the future, so full of promise, it had made Arwin feel like a kid invited to a secret clubhouse. His better sense fiercely adjusted its tie while screaming at him that she was a silly girl, but looking through her eyes the world transformed. Through the translucent bars of his desk, he could see life's essence, as if it had been sitting in plain sight all along and he had been too busy to notice it.
Arwin tensed his piping bag, shooting a glob onto the floor. He sighed. He could still taste the ghost of her turnover, rolling the bitter sting of crisp promise and apples over his tongue. Baking? Really? Compared to banking it had seemed all chocolate chips and flour fights. Well you got what you came for Leah, you loan skank, he thought, stamping on the unassuming glob.
If only he had known what he was getting into. Arwin had danced through the loan paperwork, gleefully packing his things, and before the air had cleared of cinnamon, Leah had her bakery loan and he had departed banking forever.
Six years, and a Pâtisserie and Baking Program diploma from Le Cordon Bleu College of Culinary Arts later, and he was Chips Ahoy!.
Then again, maybe working in a bakery would have been one big chocolate cherry if Martha Evans of Chantilly Cakes hadn't been the only the only business owner willing to hire him straight out of the program.
Watching Martha work made Arwin feel like a struggling infant witnessing the birth of a fawn, then seconds after birth, the fawn immediately rises to its fours and darts away, leaving him in her dust. Right now, Leah his muse was sitting pretty on the cash he’d approved and he, who had made her dreams possible, was playing fondant stooge to a bitch deer.
He wanted to march up to his boss and demand the happiness he deserved. This was supposed to fix everything. At Royal Bank of Canada he was promoted almost biweekly. Put in the extra hours, and they put out the cash and titles. After all, what the hell was everybody else always up to when he was working late? Here, however many cakes he iced or chocolate he whittled, he would never be Martha.
She was a flavor god, her dappled hands flying as she tossed this and that into the chrome mixer. He on the other hand, did what he was good at, doing what he was told. Often he would spy on her, as she hunched over her cauldron of sugar like a dragon atop of pile of treasure. He watched in desperation as she spun the boiling goo into delicate forms, and the sweet smell invaded the air.
Where do the ideas come from? Why do some people just know? He mused as he gingerly fitted strawberry halves into Martha’s cakes. He felt like a strawberry. He wanted to orchestrate, to know the grand design, not sit wedged in icing with blind delusions of the part he had played.
On Sunday, Mrs. Barnette with her rolling eggbeater thighs would arrive exactly ten minutes ahead of schedule to pick up a stately, six-tier cake for the Tuberculosis Society’s gala event, the Breathing Beauty fundraiser Aptly named, seeing as the walk from the cab to the bakery door left Mrs Barnette panting. All week, Martha had been breathing down his neck to crank out some cheap decorations so she could cater to a more prestigious client, the wedding cake of a local celebrity.
“Make with the fondant roses Arwin!” he could hear her yelling from her private workshop as he bit into his tiny “victory-cake”. He didn’t respond. The cupcake was constructed from company materials after all, and his muffled mouthful-of-cake-voice would be a dead giveaway.
“I don’t hear any piping.” She yelled.
“You can’t hear piping.” he scoffed to himself crumbs flying out of his mouth and onto the ground. He sighed, picking up the little dust-pan and broom by his station. He swept the crumbs expertly into the trash, scrubbed his hands, and returned to his work station, where the remains of his cupcake glittered gloriously in robes of icing just feet away from the unadorned six-tier that he was supposed to be working on.
By the time night rolled around, he had only finished the bottom two tiers. The designs were standard, but immaculate, and immaculate took time. Regardless of how much time was squandered away on cupcakery, he couldn’t devote any less to the customer.
He could hear Martha’s keys jingling ostentatiously as she moved from room to room locking every surface where two sides could come together. Arwin shifted his feet, looking up at the unfinished tower. It was Saturday night and the client would be there at nine.
Martha waltzed into the room blinking profusely as her eyes adjusted to the light from the dark hallway. “Arwin?” she started “Is this as far as you’ve gotten.” He nodded sheepishly, “There were some minor issues in the execution.”
Her eyes smoldered. “I for one, plan to sleep tonight.” she spat “Finish the job by eight.” The keys flew at his chest, breaking Arwin’s smart nod and he dove awkwardly to retrieve them before they could hit the ground.
He stood straight, and stared at the cake with a professional disinterest until he had heard the ping of the tacky bell on the front door, signaling that Martha had left.
He had already decided that tonight would be different.
He had gotten the idea that morning when a gust of wind from a window Martha had left open blew a stack of design templates on his work table into a swirling vortex. At first he had just stared, dumbstruck, and then, almost reluctantly, he reached for his front pocket pen and made a small jot in his day planner.
He flew into action. Aiming for Martha speed, he dumped a week’s worth of sugar into a chrome pot to melt, and dashed away from the stove. Strumming the frame of his glasses with his pocket pen he reached for his day planner and studied it intently. The note read: Sugar Wind.
30 minutes passed as Arwin stared at the cake, waiting for its imminent transformation.
He sat motionless, sizing it up until the smell of unemployment crept into his nose. “The Sugar!”
Stream rose from the tall pot as his golden opportunity burned away on the stove. He had used the last of the sugar, all of the suppliers were closed and the client would be arriving in 12 hours. Even if he were to find a source, replacing the sugar would be a day’s worth of pay, a hefty sum just so Martha could have her pat on the back.
He jumped up from behind his station in a mad attempt to save the sugar, his hand slamming against his work table and sending the remains of his celebratory cupcake spinning toward the ground. As he rounded the table towards the stove, his foot caught the gnache-y cake deposit and he slid uncontrollably on one heel into the porcelain stove. The thud was the most pain he’d ever felt, until the kinetic force upset the large pot and tipped over the vat of boiling sugar.
The hot acid bubbled over onto Arwin, paralyzing him in agony. The sugar seared his flesh and flowed through his every pore, simultaneously hardening and cementing him to the floor. Screaming and writhing the appendages that weren’t immobilized by hardened sugar, Arwin felt the sweetness engulf him, and he became one with his medium. He was inspired. Finally, he knew exactly what to do with the cake.
On Sunday, Martha walked straight into Chantilly Cakes without unlocking the door, followed immediately by Mrs Barnette. “Sorry about the state of this place.” Martha reassured her, stealthily sweeping cake crumbs under a decorating table. “As soon as you leave, I’ll let Arwin know that this is unacceptable.” With matronly purpose, they strolled into Arwin’s workstation. There he was, entombed in a sugary grave, and one with creation.
http://zombiecupcakes.wordpress.com/
He remembered that sunny afternoon in March six years before, in the light of a small window, she, who was so unlike Martha, had walked straight around his computer desk, seen the misshapen flower he was struggling with on Paint and smiled. For that brief hour, the world was teeming with potential. She was alight with anticipation for the future, so full of promise, it had made Arwin feel like a kid invited to a secret clubhouse. His better sense fiercely adjusted its tie while screaming at him that she was a silly girl, but looking through her eyes the world transformed. Through the translucent bars of his desk, he could see life's essence, as if it had been sitting in plain sight all along and he had been too busy to notice it.
Arwin tensed his piping bag, shooting a glob onto the floor. He sighed. He could still taste the ghost of her turnover, rolling the bitter sting of crisp promise and apples over his tongue. Baking? Really? Compared to banking it had seemed all chocolate chips and flour fights. Well you got what you came for Leah, you loan skank, he thought, stamping on the unassuming glob.
If only he had known what he was getting into. Arwin had danced through the loan paperwork, gleefully packing his things, and before the air had cleared of cinnamon, Leah had her bakery loan and he had departed banking forever.
Six years, and a Pâtisserie and Baking Program diploma from Le Cordon Bleu College of Culinary Arts later, and he was Chips Ahoy!.
Then again, maybe working in a bakery would have been one big chocolate cherry if Martha Evans of Chantilly Cakes hadn't been the only the only business owner willing to hire him straight out of the program.
Watching Martha work made Arwin feel like a struggling infant witnessing the birth of a fawn, then seconds after birth, the fawn immediately rises to its fours and darts away, leaving him in her dust. Right now, Leah his muse was sitting pretty on the cash he’d approved and he, who had made her dreams possible, was playing fondant stooge to a bitch deer.
He wanted to march up to his boss and demand the happiness he deserved. This was supposed to fix everything. At Royal Bank of Canada he was promoted almost biweekly. Put in the extra hours, and they put out the cash and titles. After all, what the hell was everybody else always up to when he was working late? Here, however many cakes he iced or chocolate he whittled, he would never be Martha.
She was a flavor god, her dappled hands flying as she tossed this and that into the chrome mixer. He on the other hand, did what he was good at, doing what he was told. Often he would spy on her, as she hunched over her cauldron of sugar like a dragon atop of pile of treasure. He watched in desperation as she spun the boiling goo into delicate forms, and the sweet smell invaded the air.
Where do the ideas come from? Why do some people just know? He mused as he gingerly fitted strawberry halves into Martha’s cakes. He felt like a strawberry. He wanted to orchestrate, to know the grand design, not sit wedged in icing with blind delusions of the part he had played.
On Sunday, Mrs. Barnette with her rolling eggbeater thighs would arrive exactly ten minutes ahead of schedule to pick up a stately, six-tier cake for the Tuberculosis Society’s gala event, the Breathing Beauty fundraiser Aptly named, seeing as the walk from the cab to the bakery door left Mrs Barnette panting. All week, Martha had been breathing down his neck to crank out some cheap decorations so she could cater to a more prestigious client, the wedding cake of a local celebrity.
“Make with the fondant roses Arwin!” he could hear her yelling from her private workshop as he bit into his tiny “victory-cake”. He didn’t respond. The cupcake was constructed from company materials after all, and his muffled mouthful-of-cake-voice would be a dead giveaway.
“I don’t hear any piping.” She yelled.
“You can’t hear piping.” he scoffed to himself crumbs flying out of his mouth and onto the ground. He sighed, picking up the little dust-pan and broom by his station. He swept the crumbs expertly into the trash, scrubbed his hands, and returned to his work station, where the remains of his cupcake glittered gloriously in robes of icing just feet away from the unadorned six-tier that he was supposed to be working on.
By the time night rolled around, he had only finished the bottom two tiers. The designs were standard, but immaculate, and immaculate took time. Regardless of how much time was squandered away on cupcakery, he couldn’t devote any less to the customer.
He could hear Martha’s keys jingling ostentatiously as she moved from room to room locking every surface where two sides could come together. Arwin shifted his feet, looking up at the unfinished tower. It was Saturday night and the client would be there at nine.
Martha waltzed into the room blinking profusely as her eyes adjusted to the light from the dark hallway. “Arwin?” she started “Is this as far as you’ve gotten.” He nodded sheepishly, “There were some minor issues in the execution.”
Her eyes smoldered. “I for one, plan to sleep tonight.” she spat “Finish the job by eight.” The keys flew at his chest, breaking Arwin’s smart nod and he dove awkwardly to retrieve them before they could hit the ground.
He stood straight, and stared at the cake with a professional disinterest until he had heard the ping of the tacky bell on the front door, signaling that Martha had left.
He had already decided that tonight would be different.
He had gotten the idea that morning when a gust of wind from a window Martha had left open blew a stack of design templates on his work table into a swirling vortex. At first he had just stared, dumbstruck, and then, almost reluctantly, he reached for his front pocket pen and made a small jot in his day planner.
He flew into action. Aiming for Martha speed, he dumped a week’s worth of sugar into a chrome pot to melt, and dashed away from the stove. Strumming the frame of his glasses with his pocket pen he reached for his day planner and studied it intently. The note read: Sugar Wind.
30 minutes passed as Arwin stared at the cake, waiting for its imminent transformation.
He sat motionless, sizing it up until the smell of unemployment crept into his nose. “The Sugar!”
Stream rose from the tall pot as his golden opportunity burned away on the stove. He had used the last of the sugar, all of the suppliers were closed and the client would be arriving in 12 hours. Even if he were to find a source, replacing the sugar would be a day’s worth of pay, a hefty sum just so Martha could have her pat on the back.
He jumped up from behind his station in a mad attempt to save the sugar, his hand slamming against his work table and sending the remains of his celebratory cupcake spinning toward the ground. As he rounded the table towards the stove, his foot caught the gnache-y cake deposit and he slid uncontrollably on one heel into the porcelain stove. The thud was the most pain he’d ever felt, until the kinetic force upset the large pot and tipped over the vat of boiling sugar.
The hot acid bubbled over onto Arwin, paralyzing him in agony. The sugar seared his flesh and flowed through his every pore, simultaneously hardening and cementing him to the floor. Screaming and writhing the appendages that weren’t immobilized by hardened sugar, Arwin felt the sweetness engulf him, and he became one with his medium. He was inspired. Finally, he knew exactly what to do with the cake.
On Sunday, Martha walked straight into Chantilly Cakes without unlocking the door, followed immediately by Mrs Barnette. “Sorry about the state of this place.” Martha reassured her, stealthily sweeping cake crumbs under a decorating table. “As soon as you leave, I’ll let Arwin know that this is unacceptable.” With matronly purpose, they strolled into Arwin’s workstation. There he was, entombed in a sugary grave, and one with creation.
http://zombiecupcakes.wordpress.com/
Saturday, November 20, 2010
I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas Christmas
So as the holiday rulebook specifies, as soon as the the first snow falls, the rest of the world can catch up to retail and start getting excited for Christmas.
Brea, you may say? You are the most jaded person I know? You, who hates every other holiday actually likes Christmas, the holiday hated most by jaded people?
Yes! I love Christmas!!! wheeeeeeeee
I'll share my secret with you.
Those who have not been met with yuletide tragedy dislike the holiday simply because they haven't been properly acquainted with Bing Crosby. No not Bill Cosby, Bring Crosby! the most troops-lovin' kid beatin' droop-faced crooner this side of Christmas.
But Brea! you say, Bing Crosby isn't even all that talented. He doesn't hit any high notes, have remarkable vocal power, he can't dance and has virtually no snowmanship.
It's ok!! They'll pair him with somebody actually talented like Fred Astaire or Danny Kaye and pass it off like Fred is actually using Bing to look good.
Here he is looking good in a Family Guy parody:
http://familyguy.wikia.com/wiki/Bing_Crosby
By now, I'm sure you've realized that I'm referring to my two favorite holiday movies:
Irving Berlin's White Christmas and
Holiday Inn -If the traffic noise affects you, like a squeaky violin..kick your cares down the stairs and coooome to holiday inn!
The plots are a little too convoluted to type in a space that wouldn't be unreadable and annoying, but trust me, it's cinematic genius- they're always some sort of inn INNvolved, there's crazy schemes and deceit and musical numbers galore!
I wait all year for singing the songs to magically transform from annoying to appropriate.
As extra incentive to see at least one of the movies, I will give you the only joke line of Holiday Inn- don't get me wrong, there's funny parts but this is the only part where they actually made an attempt at an actual joke:
(a lot more actual joke attempts in White Christmas)
Bing Crosby has moved out by himself to the farm that he had bought for his and his fiance/show partner Lila's life together, but the day after he quit his show career, Lila left him for Fred Astaire, the dancer in their act. Bing often complains that on holidays, instead of taking a break, people in show business put on even more intense shows, so he wanted to move away from the city to "live life by the holidays". He returns with jars of farm peach preserves for Fred and Lila and Fred's agent who's always lurking around.
Fred says: Oh boy, peach preserves, do I ever go for those. They're great on.....or even plain!
Then they take cover in the dressing room as the preserve jars explode from exposure to the nightclub air.
And do I sit there year after year biting my nails, waiting for the only joke line so I can laugh my ass off? You know I do!
The moral of the story: See the movies, sing often, and apparently, Bing Crosby has the authority to tell people when to go to sleep.
White Christmas
Holiday Inn
Fun fact for everyone who doesn't know: The reason why White Christmas is not a public domain song, and its impossible to get sheet music for is because its an Irving Berlin song appearing in both movies and the rights are heavily protected.
One more fun fact: White Christmas is playing at Manitoba Theatre Centre! -I only regret that it was too close to the deadline and I couldn't review it for the journalism review assignment. Not to mention I'm going to Tosca tonight and it's somehow less expensive.
Go Buy Tickets Now:
Holiday Inn at the Manitoba Theatre Centre- at least go for the water wall!-
One of the first Scenes from White Christmas- just look at this adorably awful set
Adorable musical number or recruitment video- WHO CARES!! One of the final scenes of White Christmas
Opening Scene of Holiday Inn
Brea, you may say? You are the most jaded person I know? You, who hates every other holiday actually likes Christmas, the holiday hated most by jaded people?
Yes! I love Christmas!!! wheeeeeeeee
I'll share my secret with you.
Those who have not been met with yuletide tragedy dislike the holiday simply because they haven't been properly acquainted with Bing Crosby. No not Bill Cosby, Bring Crosby! the most troops-lovin' kid beatin' droop-faced crooner this side of Christmas.
But Brea! you say, Bing Crosby isn't even all that talented. He doesn't hit any high notes, have remarkable vocal power, he can't dance and has virtually no snowmanship.
It's ok!! They'll pair him with somebody actually talented like Fred Astaire or Danny Kaye and pass it off like Fred is actually using Bing to look good.
Here he is looking good in a Family Guy parody:
By now, I'm sure you've realized that I'm referring to my two favorite holiday movies:
Irving Berlin's White Christmas and
Holiday Inn -If the traffic noise affects you, like a squeaky violin..kick your cares down the stairs and coooome to holiday inn!
The plots are a little too convoluted to type in a space that wouldn't be unreadable and annoying, but trust me, it's cinematic genius- they're always some sort of inn INNvolved, there's crazy schemes and deceit and musical numbers galore!
I wait all year for singing the songs to magically transform from annoying to appropriate.
As extra incentive to see at least one of the movies, I will give you the only joke line of Holiday Inn- don't get me wrong, there's funny parts but this is the only part where they actually made an attempt at an actual joke:
(a lot more actual joke attempts in White Christmas)
Bing Crosby has moved out by himself to the farm that he had bought for his and his fiance/show partner Lila's life together, but the day after he quit his show career, Lila left him for Fred Astaire, the dancer in their act. Bing often complains that on holidays, instead of taking a break, people in show business put on even more intense shows, so he wanted to move away from the city to "live life by the holidays". He returns with jars of farm peach preserves for Fred and Lila and Fred's agent who's always lurking around.
Fred says: Oh boy, peach preserves, do I ever go for those. They're great on.....or even plain!
Then they take cover in the dressing room as the preserve jars explode from exposure to the nightclub air.
And do I sit there year after year biting my nails, waiting for the only joke line so I can laugh my ass off? You know I do!
The moral of the story: See the movies, sing often, and apparently, Bing Crosby has the authority to tell people when to go to sleep.
White Christmas
Holiday Inn
Fun fact for everyone who doesn't know: The reason why White Christmas is not a public domain song, and its impossible to get sheet music for is because its an Irving Berlin song appearing in both movies and the rights are heavily protected.
One more fun fact: White Christmas is playing at Manitoba Theatre Centre! -I only regret that it was too close to the deadline and I couldn't review it for the journalism review assignment. Not to mention I'm going to Tosca tonight and it's somehow less expensive.
Go Buy Tickets Now:
Holiday Inn at the Manitoba Theatre Centre- at least go for the water wall!-
One of the first Scenes from White Christmas- just look at this adorably awful set
Adorable musical number or recruitment video- WHO CARES!! One of the final scenes of White Christmas
Opening Scene of Holiday Inn
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Blog Assignment: Sam Lipsyte's :The Dungeon Master Critique
Yeah, so maybe you're all getting sick of this Eladrin picture from the instruction manual- maybe I'm sick of making good fan-art.
As a former Eladrin Wild Sorceress, I was immediately drawn to Sam Lipsyte's The Dungeon Master.
The short story was published in the Oct. 4/ 2010 addition of the New Yorker. Lipsyte is an American short story writer and the author of four novels to date, his latest being
The Ask.
Link to the Short Story
Thankfully, unlike the sadistic overlord Dragon Master in the story, I had DnD Danny as a Dragon Master who allowed me to cast range spells at a jillion kobold tokens while hiding in a large pile of gold.
By the by Danny: I still say that regardless of being able to equip armor I should be able to set fire to the gold pile, roll and in searing gold, heal myself and come out with gold permanently welded to my skin as...The Ultimate Armor!
Anyway, I can never be sure how accurate the characterization was, because I don't know what level of impersonality is used when high school boys interact with each other. They were so generally uninterested with each other, that aside from Marco and the Dragon Master (for whom it still took a few reads of the first paragraph to sort out) I was continually confusing the characters.
You would think that each character having an of their inner selves right off the bat would provide instantaneous deep insights into their personality but it does surprisingly little for the story. The thief kid is a rogue. Big surprise.
Death was clearly a theme, with frequent mention of the Dungeons and Dragons suicides, Cherninsky not wanting to die in the game, and the Death of his sister. I thought it was very powerful towards the end, when all the faces of death leaking in the story, eventually swirl together.
Dungeons and Dragons before World of Warcraft, and eventually Second Life, was the ultimate false life. The whole story to me is really about the delicate balance of life and death, DnD as a pseudo life, postponing the imminent death of those who had nothing to live for. Eventually, death as a force, which permeates each of the players lives, begins to chip away at their delicate defenses and as the fragments of the game fall away, death glints through the cracks.
My verdict? Read it. It's sufficiently dark enough to carry the themes without being forcefully dramatic. It's paced nicely, and although its not suspenseful, it draws you to read to the end. Once you get there, despite the web (or lack thereof) of loose ends and lack of closure, you find that it was worth the 10 minutes you spent, better than 10 minutes of watching whatever is on Family Channel while flipping through the real channels, looking for something decent.
Keep up the good dungeoneering readers!
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Watercolours Not Team Colours Not Gang Colours
Regarding the Winnipeg Sun piece about the German vending machines that sell miniature art, I couldn’t help but think that society’s new way to honor a lifestyle through a number and letter ID in a vending machine. Take health food for example, what a triumph busybody moms must have felt nation-wide when they saw the first vending machine stocked with Fruit to Go.
Personally-I know I say this all the time- I'm sick of sports being portrayed as the absolute antidote to gangs. Is releasing pent up violence on some poor sap with a ball really any healthier than smashing a car window? Do not get me wrong. I love sports, growing up, they were a huge part of my life, and still are. But, I can't help but feeling that we're projecting the message that they're the only appropriate option.
The election has only made everything worse, with sports on the top of the agenda for basically every candidate, not to mention former Jet Thomas Steen taking the Elmwood-East Kildonan ward by storm (I'll chalk that up as an implied victory for sports). With Shaneen Robinson yammering about that boxing club she -ALMOST STARTED- and let me just say that that potential boxing club has had a huge effect on my life- I plan to stay the hell away from gangs. -It's hilarious because this is definately the least of Shaneen's many credentials, but it was the topic that she couldn't help working in every 3 seconds at the Senior Centre forum. Doesn't this prove that the whole sports/gang garbage was way to close to the forefront of this election?
Most importantly, why doesn't anyone every talk about Graffiti Art Programming Inc. at Higgins and Gomez? Their contributions are notable among city workers, they do tons of programming with Community centres and free play drop ins, but regardless of their contributions they're always overshadowed by some sporting effort.
We need to start encouraging the young artists and musicians in Winnipeg as much as sportsmen.
I move that we give young artists opportunity for exposure but distributing their work in these art dispensers.
Movement number 2- Everything that happens in Winnipeg is tainted by weather. If we put on an awesome concert the headline reads: Fans Brave Sleet and Snow for MTS Centre Show. A lot of people apparently didn't even get out to vote because of the wind and rain yesterday (almost knocked me right off the sidewalk at one point in the afternoon).
Why don't can put the sweet art machines beside smaller vending machines that dispense gloves. That way, customers’ fingers will be appropriately limber for art selection. This started off as a joke, but now that i'm thinking about the times I would have killed for gloves, they could probably make a killing- or rather prevent a killing that would ensue from somebody killing somebody else for gloves.
Link to the article
Graffitti Programming Inc.
 |
| Pretty sure this one is from Minneapolis http://blog.lib.umn.edu/jrock2/rockblog/cat_recently_noticed.html |
Regarding the Winnipeg Sun piece about the German vending machines that sell miniature art, I couldn’t help but think that society’s new way to honor a lifestyle through a number and letter ID in a vending machine. Take health food for example, what a triumph busybody moms must have felt nation-wide when they saw the first vending machine stocked with Fruit to Go.
Personally-I know I say this all the time- I'm sick of sports being portrayed as the absolute antidote to gangs. Is releasing pent up violence on some poor sap with a ball really any healthier than smashing a car window? Do not get me wrong. I love sports, growing up, they were a huge part of my life, and still are. But, I can't help but feeling that we're projecting the message that they're the only appropriate option.
The election has only made everything worse, with sports on the top of the agenda for basically every candidate, not to mention former Jet Thomas Steen taking the Elmwood-East Kildonan ward by storm (I'll chalk that up as an implied victory for sports). With Shaneen Robinson yammering about that boxing club she -ALMOST STARTED- and let me just say that that potential boxing club has had a huge effect on my life- I plan to stay the hell away from gangs. -It's hilarious because this is definately the least of Shaneen's many credentials, but it was the topic that she couldn't help working in every 3 seconds at the Senior Centre forum. Doesn't this prove that the whole sports/gang garbage was way to close to the forefront of this election?
Most importantly, why doesn't anyone every talk about Graffiti Art Programming Inc. at Higgins and Gomez? Their contributions are notable among city workers, they do tons of programming with Community centres and free play drop ins, but regardless of their contributions they're always overshadowed by some sporting effort.
We need to start encouraging the young artists and musicians in Winnipeg as much as sportsmen.
I move that we give young artists opportunity for exposure but distributing their work in these art dispensers.
Movement number 2- Everything that happens in Winnipeg is tainted by weather. If we put on an awesome concert the headline reads: Fans Brave Sleet and Snow for MTS Centre Show. A lot of people apparently didn't even get out to vote because of the wind and rain yesterday (almost knocked me right off the sidewalk at one point in the afternoon).
Why don't can put the sweet art machines beside smaller vending machines that dispense gloves. That way, customers’ fingers will be appropriately limber for art selection. This started off as a joke, but now that i'm thinking about the times I would have killed for gloves, they could probably make a killing- or rather prevent a killing that would ensue from somebody killing somebody else for gloves.
Link to the article
Graffitti Programming Inc.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Dawna Friesen is Twitter!
Dawna Friesen came to visit us gutterly CreCommers at the college today, and despite my respect for her, I felt like a few things were left unsaid. Should I say them? At the seminar I didn't want to waste her important time with the fanciful musings of a student/I was just too chicken to speak up. But at the same time, even on this crappy blog that nobody reads, I don't want to undermine the fact that she took the time to speak to us, even though I'm only answering the questions she asked.
Ok I can't stand it anymore.
Dawna Friesen is Twitter.
Twitter is essentially a virtual news anchor. Her news desk is just like the feed. A couple of people were shot in the North End this weekend, followed by a few notes and A VIRTUAL LINK TO THE ACTUAL STORY- very similar to cutting to footage of a correspondent that has the larger picture details isn't it?
And its not like our actual news is much less cluttered with whatever-the-hell Lindsay Lohan is doing than Twitter is anyway.
And, if people are watching her on the news, are they any more likely to wait for what the correspondent has to say if her lead-up wasn't to their interest?
God I hate it when I become that which I despise...A weekly activity on this end.
Ok, now I'm going to refute my own beautifully executed metaphor...
I kind of agree with Dawna, Twitter is lame, and it does to a certain degree start filtering the world back into slots of black and white.
But does it destroy our ability to create narrative?
Impossible!
Storytelling is innate. Spinning our own lives into a story where we are the main character fuels our very existence. Look at society, we still our oldest stories, English majors are even taught to read middle english to preserve their integrity.
Technology can't be the antidote to humanity. If it is, than why instead of creating hundred-story cylindrical farms are we investing all of our resources into making cellphones you can fit into a hollowed out molar?
Therefore technology is only an extension of humanity giving us massive battery power to magnify the traits we already have.
Take blogging for instance. It turns even the most reclusive nerd into the grand director of their own life story. Even now, as I type, am I not imposing my own narrative of an event that was meant to be a purely logical discussion. -There goes those U of W Rhetoric classes again... Is using narrative in a news story unbiased blah blah- that's not really the point- I just wanted to hats off To Tristan and Dave Hollier my Brian Turner buds *throws hat*- That should keep the Brian Turner- reminiscence away for awhile.
Anyway, now everyone who was wondering what I thought about the questions Ms Friesen raised during the presentation instead of paying attention to said presentation, knows.
Thanks again for your time Ms Friesen- if for whatever reason you happen to be reading this.
Ok I can't stand it anymore.
Dawna Friesen is Twitter.
Twitter is essentially a virtual news anchor. Her news desk is just like the feed. A couple of people were shot in the North End this weekend, followed by a few notes and A VIRTUAL LINK TO THE ACTUAL STORY- very similar to cutting to footage of a correspondent that has the larger picture details isn't it?
And its not like our actual news is much less cluttered with whatever-the-hell Lindsay Lohan is doing than Twitter is anyway.
And, if people are watching her on the news, are they any more likely to wait for what the correspondent has to say if her lead-up wasn't to their interest?
God I hate it when I become that which I despise...A weekly activity on this end.
Ok, now I'm going to refute my own beautifully executed metaphor...
I kind of agree with Dawna, Twitter is lame, and it does to a certain degree start filtering the world back into slots of black and white.
But does it destroy our ability to create narrative?
Impossible!
Storytelling is innate. Spinning our own lives into a story where we are the main character fuels our very existence. Look at society, we still our oldest stories, English majors are even taught to read middle english to preserve their integrity.
Technology can't be the antidote to humanity. If it is, than why instead of creating hundred-story cylindrical farms are we investing all of our resources into making cellphones you can fit into a hollowed out molar?
Therefore technology is only an extension of humanity giving us massive battery power to magnify the traits we already have.
Take blogging for instance. It turns even the most reclusive nerd into the grand director of their own life story. Even now, as I type, am I not imposing my own narrative of an event that was meant to be a purely logical discussion. -There goes those U of W Rhetoric classes again... Is using narrative in a news story unbiased blah blah- that's not really the point- I just wanted to hats off To Tristan and Dave Hollier my Brian Turner buds *throws hat*- That should keep the Brian Turner- reminiscence away for awhile.
Anyway, now everyone who was wondering what I thought about the questions Ms Friesen raised during the presentation instead of paying attention to said presentation, knows.
Thanks again for your time Ms Friesen- if for whatever reason you happen to be reading this.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Thursday, October 21, 2010
These Crazy Kids and Their Social Revolutions
Way back when, agaisnt the advice of concerned friends and family, I made the pilgrimage to see The Social Network. The main issue with the movie, is not in excecution, but the mere fact that the movie exists at all.
Frankly a lot of people were reluctantly joining because they were finding it difficult to keep their social and business lives afloat without an online profile- an innocence that is still mourned by a large amount of the population. South Park capitalized on this going-against-the-grain-goodness in their "You Have 0 Friends" episode- check the clip at the bottom.
People who had barely typed in their likes and disklikes, and were contemplating on joining applications with the promise of a free pig, saw the commercial and threw up their hands in protest. That's it! I can no longer contribute Facebook's evil regime. (they said, finger poised on the mouse in mid-friend accept) I will not succumb to a miltarist future that doesn't even involve evil robots-WASTE.
NOT WASTE I say! From a utilitarian persepctive the movie changes nothing.
In addition, the only people interested in seeing the movie were too invested in Facebook to worry about whether or not Zuckerberg came off like a jerk. Personally I think it was a bit of a toss-up. On one hand, they ended with the whole" you're not an asshole, you're just trying so hard to be" to cast him under the glow of ironically undersocialized nerd craving acceptance and admiration through acheivment.- did it work? I dunno, seemed like a last ditch attempt at character development instead of gradually working it into the movie. But I guess it's better than starting the movie with a scene of him sitting at his computer and being approached by his roomate saying: Say there Zuckerberg, on your computer again I see- my you don't get out much do you. Zuckerberg: Shut up, I hate you. Roomate exits, Zuckerberg *whisper*-Why won't you loove me?
Oh well., basically after the movie all I could think about were the two row-bros doing calisthenics and juggling elephants, the whole scene flooded in strawberry jam. *Zuckerberg sounds WAY to much like Smuckers, risking that the audience members should lose focus halfway into the movie as their mind turns to thoughts of toast.
Oh wait, I nearly forgot the implied other hand that comes with the aforementioned "on one hand". The other hand was how callously he treated his best friend- my understanding was that he barely cared about money so depleting more of his shares would have advanced Facebook in the way he desired while keeping his only friendship moderately intact. That can be attributed to nothing but pure asshole-dom.
But everyone fails now and again, all in all it seemed like his heart was in the right place.
In Zuckerberg, Hearst and Hollywood: PR Lessons Learned From the Past Zuckerberg mostly addresses inconsistencies only with the overall mood of the film. That's narrative though- a story can exist stretched out over time and seem like a series of insignificant events but when condensed creates a more saturated picture. As for the whole kissing babies little league strategy, I think we're all giving a collective "What-ev's" to the timing, It's hilariously transparent no matter how removed from the event. If Hitler was alive and tomorow there was a tabloid article featuring a picture of him petting a dog the caption would read: Hell's sweetheart attempting to improve his image by starting an animal hospital." - Side note: How hilarious would it be if some notorious figure started up a Teddy Bear Hospital to improve his image. It would be like: send us your leaky stuffed animals and have it sewn up George Bush himself. And as a little souvenir, when injected with a plant-based dye and magnified 100X the thread is autographed! Now THAT'S Republican healthcare at its finest...hahahahaha
Interview and Private Life of Mark Zuckerberg
Did you see that guy on the skateboard- That's not conventional office behavior!!
These crazy kids and their social revolutions.
YOU HAVE 0 FRIENDS
I feel like I have less friends already
 |
| Just look at that fresh faced lad http://prpost.wordpress.com/2010/10/10/zuckerberg-hearst-and-hollywood-pr-lessons-learned-from-the-past/ |
Frankly a lot of people were reluctantly joining because they were finding it difficult to keep their social and business lives afloat without an online profile- an innocence that is still mourned by a large amount of the population. South Park capitalized on this going-against-the-grain-goodness in their "You Have 0 Friends" episode- check the clip at the bottom.
People who had barely typed in their likes and disklikes, and were contemplating on joining applications with the promise of a free pig, saw the commercial and threw up their hands in protest. That's it! I can no longer contribute Facebook's evil regime. (they said, finger poised on the mouse in mid-friend accept) I will not succumb to a miltarist future that doesn't even involve evil robots-WASTE.
NOT WASTE I say! From a utilitarian persepctive the movie changes nothing.
In addition, the only people interested in seeing the movie were too invested in Facebook to worry about whether or not Zuckerberg came off like a jerk. Personally I think it was a bit of a toss-up. On one hand, they ended with the whole" you're not an asshole, you're just trying so hard to be" to cast him under the glow of ironically undersocialized nerd craving acceptance and admiration through acheivment.- did it work? I dunno, seemed like a last ditch attempt at character development instead of gradually working it into the movie. But I guess it's better than starting the movie with a scene of him sitting at his computer and being approached by his roomate saying: Say there Zuckerberg, on your computer again I see- my you don't get out much do you. Zuckerberg: Shut up, I hate you. Roomate exits, Zuckerberg *whisper*-Why won't you loove me?
Oh well., basically after the movie all I could think about were the two row-bros doing calisthenics and juggling elephants, the whole scene flooded in strawberry jam. *Zuckerberg sounds WAY to much like Smuckers, risking that the audience members should lose focus halfway into the movie as their mind turns to thoughts of toast.
Oh wait, I nearly forgot the implied other hand that comes with the aforementioned "on one hand". The other hand was how callously he treated his best friend- my understanding was that he barely cared about money so depleting more of his shares would have advanced Facebook in the way he desired while keeping his only friendship moderately intact. That can be attributed to nothing but pure asshole-dom.
But everyone fails now and again, all in all it seemed like his heart was in the right place.
In Zuckerberg, Hearst and Hollywood: PR Lessons Learned From the Past Zuckerberg mostly addresses inconsistencies only with the overall mood of the film. That's narrative though- a story can exist stretched out over time and seem like a series of insignificant events but when condensed creates a more saturated picture. As for the whole kissing babies little league strategy, I think we're all giving a collective "What-ev's" to the timing, It's hilariously transparent no matter how removed from the event. If Hitler was alive and tomorow there was a tabloid article featuring a picture of him petting a dog the caption would read: Hell's sweetheart attempting to improve his image by starting an animal hospital." - Side note: How hilarious would it be if some notorious figure started up a Teddy Bear Hospital to improve his image. It would be like: send us your leaky stuffed animals and have it sewn up George Bush himself. And as a little souvenir, when injected with a plant-based dye and magnified 100X the thread is autographed! Now THAT'S Republican healthcare at its finest...hahahahaha
Interview and Private Life of Mark Zuckerberg
Did you see that guy on the skateboard- That's not conventional office behavior!!
These crazy kids and their social revolutions.
YOU HAVE 0 FRIENDS
I feel like I have less friends already
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
It's a Long Way to No-Drip-erary (and no, that's not too far to go for a play on words
Are we living in the Emerald City or is everything going green?
Apparently now in addition to cleaners that don't poison your kids, and solar powered chip factories (sun chips!) we now have plant bags to dispose of our plants! Compostable trash bags for yard waste that aim to be the equivalent of wrapping your raked leaves in an additional giant leaf. Now that's a horse of a different color.
In the Minnesota Twin Cities area, they've instituted the Compostable Bag Law. Essentially, residents and business owners who don't dispose of yard waste in a biodegradable bag that meets the bag law standards, are fined for the rebagging of their rebel trash.
Basically, our crack-team wanted to see if the compostable bags held up- and held up against what for that matter. Probably the first brand that comes to everyone's mind is GLAD. Specifically the GLAD ForceFlex Stretchable Strength Easy-Tie Bags -the piano stuffing, girl's body enclosing diamond weaving good time.
THE CONTENDERS
RONA ECO Compostable and 100% Biodegradable Bags for Garden Waste 24”x30” (61 x 76.2 cm) $4.99 10 bags per carton, without tax $0.499/ bag.
TEST VIDEO
Apparently now in addition to cleaners that don't poison your kids, and solar powered chip factories (sun chips!) we now have plant bags to dispose of our plants! Compostable trash bags for yard waste that aim to be the equivalent of wrapping your raked leaves in an additional giant leaf. Now that's a horse of a different color.
In the Minnesota Twin Cities area, they've instituted the Compostable Bag Law. Essentially, residents and business owners who don't dispose of yard waste in a biodegradable bag that meets the bag law standards, are fined for the rebagging of their rebel trash.
Basically, our crack-team wanted to see if the compostable bags held up- and held up against what for that matter. Probably the first brand that comes to everyone's mind is GLAD. Specifically the GLAD ForceFlex Stretchable Strength Easy-Tie Bags -the piano stuffing, girl's body enclosing diamond weaving good time.
THE CONTENDERS
RONA ECO Compostable and 100% Biodegradable Bags for Garden Waste 24”x30” (61 x 76.2 cm) $4.99 10 bags per carton, without tax $0.499/ bag.
Great Value Ty-Up Flaps 75 L Capacity 26” x 32.5” (66 x 82.5cm ) 40 Regular Outdoor Bags Double-checking price (either $4.47 or $4.88) $ 0.112/bag
GLAD ForceFlex Stretchable Strength Quick-Tie Garbage Bags 77 L Capacity 30” x 33” (76.2x 83.8cm ) 15 Easy-Tie Bags Double-checking price (either $4.47 or $4.88) $0.298/bag
Husky Garbage Bags 75 L Capacity 26” x 36” (60x 91.4cm) 100 Regular Bags $9.99 without tax $0.099/bag
RONA ECO Recycled Plastic Garbage Bags 67 L Capacity 26” x 32.5” (66 x 82.5cm) 40 Bags per Carton $4.99 without tax $0.124/bag
FEATS OF STRENGTH
We tested them for tensile strength, puncture and seepage.
Strength: We lifted them to a height of 2.5 ft and progressively adding 5 pounds until they ruptured, Puncture: stuffed each bag with the same amount of pointy twigs,
and Seepage: filled them with two litres of water and tossing them into the back lane (all highly scientific)
THE CHAMPION
The overall winner, acing both the categories of strength and seepage was the recyclable bag. (Not as eco-friendly as it gets, but its a step in the right direction). We would recommend this bag to anyone.
The designer GLAD bag still prevailed in the puncture test. So I guess the infamous diamond weave doesn't just refer to the diamonds it costs to buy the bag.
What is essentially the moral of the story. If you buy bags to stuff them full pointy branches, buy GLAD. If you buy bags to transport your heavy barbell plates, buy RONA ECO Recycled Plastic Garbage Bags.
What about the compostable bags? Well they did pretty poorly. However if you're willing to shell out tons of cash, use them gingerly and spend weeks scouring the city for them (they're incredibly hard to find) in the name of the environment, then go for it.
Thanks to
In conclusion, please enjoy our video of a garbage bag potato sack race set to Jack Judge's It's a Long Way to Tipperary.
TEST VIDEO
Thursday, October 7, 2010
And On The Seventh Year, God Created Sam Katz
The mayoral forum, was a massive disappointment to say the least.
First of all, as if it wasn't stressful enough racing to the school in my car where CJOB is perpetually on, and having hyperbolic Richard Cloutier ram how intense it was going to be into my head- giving me visions of the school being backed up all the way down princess and me leaving my gridlocked car zombie movie style and running from China Town to the cafeteria panting: Sam, Judy, Sam, Judy....
Uh, sorry Steve, I meant to say, waking up at five, glancing casually through my day planner while simultaneously reading the Free Press and the Sun. Then, upon departure, stopping at every red light while pondering the idea of adding a second to the amber light, and finally strolling into the cafeteria 20 minutes early and taking a seat with my pen (because its inside, so it won't freeze) , my miniature (not full-sized) notebook (for field reporting because we're in the cafeteria) and finally my student card draped gracefully around my neck on a stately lanyard.
Anyway, time for the real news.
I think I misunderstood the format of the forum, because I assumed that this would be the time to make in depth, logical appeals, elaborating on their point-form plans so I could make an informed decision. Instead it was just more of the same childish crap. Should I go for Judy's five-fingered crime prevention plan (with youth in the palm) or Sam's two-pronged justice. (thanks for the imagery guys but I'm not twelve). I thought it was a bit of an insult to Winnipeg, that we would be swayed by same point-form junk we can find on the internet coupled with lame insults and biblical allusions. P.S: Way to liken yourself to God Sam Katz. That was actually way funnier than it was offensive. Especially since you said "God took seven years" when Genesis says seven days. Aren't you Jewish, Sam? Isnt' the Old Testament kind of "your thing".
Regardless, I definitely appreciate Katz's business approach to Winnipeg, and I think that if they went for it, a Provincial Sales Tax increase of 1% would definitely be the way to go, after all, its obvious that property is no indication of income. Also I think a huge component of how we view ourselves- hopefully as a serious city and not some hick- half-capital- has to do with Katz's attractions. However, with the exception of Canwest Park and The Forks (The parking in that area is magical). I avoid going anywhere downtown because its a complete maze of one way streets- and now that everyone seems to be so into getting more police on the streets, its crawling with cops, and the stress is mounting exponentially.
What's worse, I can't even take public transit because its a 45 min walk to the Portage 11 stop, and the only other bus that comes within 15 minutes of my house is 1. A horrendously residential route, and 2. An every-hour-if-I-feel-like-it-bus. I realize that I live at the edge of North Kildonan, but comeon, I'm still a resident.
So to get anywhere is a huge inconvenience. Why is this a problem? Because we live in Winnipeg and its a billion degrees bellow zero. I can't idle around for 45 minutes in the cold waiting for a bus or walk 2 miles from my car to my destination because I will die on the way there. And if everyone's dying in the streets, they'll have to employ more street clearing services to push the bodies to the side of the road.
How could Sam not respond to Judy's accusation that he didn't have a plan. That would have been the perfect opportunity to shove it in her face if he even had the inkling of a plan- so clearly he doesn't. However much Judy made herself sound like Sam's mom, which he was right, she came off looking like a one trick pony, it was made abundantly clear that there is no plan.
Sam's claims against Judy Wasylyscia-Leis followed the same pattern. "Get back to reality" he would yell, as if to say "Adults are talking now Judy." And to a certain extent he was right. I wanted to hear the facts, and the facts weren't there. How can you prove this will be effective? He would say again and again.
This was something I really needed to hear. I work at a youth drop-in program and have worked for a city children's drop-in in the past. It was exceedingly obvious how beneficial the program was for the young children, but I would really like more information about how the youth programs work. For instance, I think there's definitely attendance issues for people over 13. Youth that aren't coming in for basketball aren't coming in at all, and I don't like how sports are portrayed as the ultimate gang solution. We've had to open up some sites to 10 year olds and if I was 15, I wouldn't be hanging out anywhere 10 year olds could be found.
My excitement for her green plan has rapidly deteriorated since these questions have gone unanswered. Can she deliver? I'm not sure anymore. She isn't as fact-based as I thought, after all she misquoted the deficit.
As for Sam Katz, I'm a little pissed off that he's not even trying. You don't come into an election against somebody with a huge crop of fresh ideas, and jump into speeches about the great things you've done in the past. It's not like you just make a couple improvements to the city and it's awesome forever.
IN CONCLUSION: Please don't be offended by any of my comments. This post was essentially my impressions of my very first forum.
In addition, if you have any interesting information that I missed or facts and figures or other relevant info that may help me make a decision on my vote, don't hesitate to post it on my comments.
First of all, as if it wasn't stressful enough racing to the school in my car where CJOB is perpetually on, and having hyperbolic Richard Cloutier ram how intense it was going to be into my head- giving me visions of the school being backed up all the way down princess and me leaving my gridlocked car zombie movie style and running from China Town to the cafeteria panting: Sam, Judy, Sam, Judy....
Uh, sorry Steve, I meant to say, waking up at five, glancing casually through my day planner while simultaneously reading the Free Press and the Sun. Then, upon departure, stopping at every red light while pondering the idea of adding a second to the amber light, and finally strolling into the cafeteria 20 minutes early and taking a seat with my pen (because its inside, so it won't freeze) , my miniature (not full-sized) notebook (for field reporting because we're in the cafeteria) and finally my student card draped gracefully around my neck on a stately lanyard.
Anyway, time for the real news.
I think I misunderstood the format of the forum, because I assumed that this would be the time to make in depth, logical appeals, elaborating on their point-form plans so I could make an informed decision. Instead it was just more of the same childish crap. Should I go for Judy's five-fingered crime prevention plan (with youth in the palm) or Sam's two-pronged justice. (thanks for the imagery guys but I'm not twelve). I thought it was a bit of an insult to Winnipeg, that we would be swayed by same point-form junk we can find on the internet coupled with lame insults and biblical allusions. P.S: Way to liken yourself to God Sam Katz. That was actually way funnier than it was offensive. Especially since you said "God took seven years" when Genesis says seven days. Aren't you Jewish, Sam? Isnt' the Old Testament kind of "your thing".
Regardless, I definitely appreciate Katz's business approach to Winnipeg, and I think that if they went for it, a Provincial Sales Tax increase of 1% would definitely be the way to go, after all, its obvious that property is no indication of income. Also I think a huge component of how we view ourselves- hopefully as a serious city and not some hick- half-capital- has to do with Katz's attractions. However, with the exception of Canwest Park and The Forks (The parking in that area is magical). I avoid going anywhere downtown because its a complete maze of one way streets- and now that everyone seems to be so into getting more police on the streets, its crawling with cops, and the stress is mounting exponentially.
What's worse, I can't even take public transit because its a 45 min walk to the Portage 11 stop, and the only other bus that comes within 15 minutes of my house is 1. A horrendously residential route, and 2. An every-hour-if-I-feel-like-it-bus. I realize that I live at the edge of North Kildonan, but comeon, I'm still a resident.
So to get anywhere is a huge inconvenience. Why is this a problem? Because we live in Winnipeg and its a billion degrees bellow zero. I can't idle around for 45 minutes in the cold waiting for a bus or walk 2 miles from my car to my destination because I will die on the way there. And if everyone's dying in the streets, they'll have to employ more street clearing services to push the bodies to the side of the road.
How could Sam not respond to Judy's accusation that he didn't have a plan. That would have been the perfect opportunity to shove it in her face if he even had the inkling of a plan- so clearly he doesn't. However much Judy made herself sound like Sam's mom, which he was right, she came off looking like a one trick pony, it was made abundantly clear that there is no plan.
Sam's claims against Judy Wasylyscia-Leis followed the same pattern. "Get back to reality" he would yell, as if to say "Adults are talking now Judy." And to a certain extent he was right. I wanted to hear the facts, and the facts weren't there. How can you prove this will be effective? He would say again and again.
This was something I really needed to hear. I work at a youth drop-in program and have worked for a city children's drop-in in the past. It was exceedingly obvious how beneficial the program was for the young children, but I would really like more information about how the youth programs work. For instance, I think there's definitely attendance issues for people over 13. Youth that aren't coming in for basketball aren't coming in at all, and I don't like how sports are portrayed as the ultimate gang solution. We've had to open up some sites to 10 year olds and if I was 15, I wouldn't be hanging out anywhere 10 year olds could be found.
My excitement for her green plan has rapidly deteriorated since these questions have gone unanswered. Can she deliver? I'm not sure anymore. She isn't as fact-based as I thought, after all she misquoted the deficit.
As for Sam Katz, I'm a little pissed off that he's not even trying. You don't come into an election against somebody with a huge crop of fresh ideas, and jump into speeches about the great things you've done in the past. It's not like you just make a couple improvements to the city and it's awesome forever.
IN CONCLUSION: Please don't be offended by any of my comments. This post was essentially my impressions of my very first forum.
In addition, if you have any interesting information that I missed or facts and figures or other relevant info that may help me make a decision on my vote, don't hesitate to post it on my comments.
Monday, October 4, 2010
Call Me When You're a Real Holiday
So it seems that halloween is coming up again, and as per usual I'm as unexcited as ever. Halloween is one of those fakester holidays masquerading as a real holiday with days off and presents. Yes I know nothing excites like type on a calendar- sometimes I get a little antsy waiting to put a sharpie x through flag day, but just the same, nothing disappoints more than realizing you still have to go to school and work the next day.
Yep, nothing like waking up in a puddle of rum and melted chocolate, and dragging your still face-painted-because-it-won't-scrub-off ass to school.
Sorry Halloween, I say the only real holidays are the ones backed up with a week long break. Completely contrary to the break idea, you actually have to INVEST time in halloween, time out of your own schedule to craft a costume that nobody will recognize. Read me going as Catra last year. *sigh*. Counting down the hours of my not-actual-holiday, explaining to the only people nerdy enough to know who the Scarlet Witch is, that I wasn't the Scarlet Witch. Pah as if I would spend all that time constructing an X-men costume that wasn't even opposite Wolverine. (Don't get me wrong, I love X-men, any comic heros that shoot to kill are ok in my books.)
Yep, nothing like waking up in a puddle of rum and melted chocolate, and dragging your still face-painted-because-it-won't-scrub-off ass to school.
Sorry Halloween, I say the only real holidays are the ones backed up with a week long break. Completely contrary to the break idea, you actually have to INVEST time in halloween, time out of your own schedule to craft a costume that nobody will recognize. Read me going as Catra last year. *sigh*. Counting down the hours of my not-actual-holiday, explaining to the only people nerdy enough to know who the Scarlet Witch is, that I wasn't the Scarlet Witch. Pah as if I would spend all that time constructing an X-men costume that wasn't even opposite Wolverine. (Don't get me wrong, I love X-men, any comic heros that shoot to kill are ok in my books.)
Monday, September 27, 2010
Plight of the Conchords
Last night, I watched the season premiere of The Simpsons, not because I really expected there to be any huge development in the ongoing plot, but because the big name cartoons are really the only good thing on sunday tv before Iron Chef makes the nightly runs. (P.S last night was RIIICE BATTLLEE!!!) (P.P.S Large and in charge ginger-italian chef Mario Batali has taken to wearing crocs :(- Comeon Mario, I know its rough standing on that podium for days on end waiting for a challenger to call you down, but is that really the best you can do?)
Anyway, all week long, Fox obsessively tried to cultivate excitement about the cast of Glee, guest appearing in the season premiere, and then when I watched the episode (which was definitely not for the Glee factor (I think those kids are immensely talented but the plotlines are pathetic and the promotions are ridiculously aggressive) they barely flashed cartoon glee depictions across the screen with a five second rendition of a public domain song.
Just when I thought all hope for a good episode was lost, Bret and Germaine from Flight of the Conchords swooped in on the scene and stole the show with a slew of adorable musical numbers.
So what happened here, the Conchords pull out all the stops and Glee swoops in for the credit? Or did they really not believe that Flight of the Conchords could generate enough excitement to get the episode watched.
They hadn't even briefly mentioned their appearance in any of the commercials.
I don't know why I'm so insulted. Maybe it's because I think they're real talents and they can speak for themselves. (Not that the Glee kids aren't talented, because they have phenomenal voices. (not that I couldn't do that)).- What I couldn't do is crank out hilarious hits like Bret and Germaine
(BTW I sing and have been looking for a band for my whole life, but everybody's gotta be a front man) Plus there's a new trend of having people who can't sing, just go ahead and sing anyway. :(
Well I say: IT'S BUSINESS TIME! If the Conchords are starting to fail, it's our job to keep them afloat.
QUICK TO THE FANDOM-MOBILE!!!! (For all those 25 km or more away from the fandom-mobile, just grab onto the nearest guitar and soar into the sky.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Why Can't I Be A Misfit. It Turns Out I'm Just a Twit-Wit
Yes, contrary to everything I hold dear, I am now plugged into the twitterverse :(
I even have a username to prove it: bperrelli2.
Right now my twitterances are limited to following all of the Food Network chefs. Except you Rachel Ray!
You've had enough exposure for one lifetime. How does one woman manage to get so many shows. Pretty soon you'll have to absorb all of that Rachel Ray in Matrix-Style.
Plug into the Rachelverse for two minutes and wake up saying. "Woah, I just made a Thirty Minute Meal".
Side note: for all of thsoe who didn't get my immensely clever highly specifc title, its a reference to the misfit song from Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer. "Why am I such a misfit I am not just a nitwit"
Little known fact that I've been promoting for years now: there are like four versions of that movie. In only the very first release they Yukon Cornelius strikes peppermint (alluding to how he always licks his pick-axe) and they reference it in all the sequels. And in the final release (the only one that plays on tv now) they cut out the fame and fortune song that they introduced in the second release and replaced it again with the original song from the first one (a shotty re-hashing of the misfit song).
Keep this in mind over winter holidays: You are missing out on a superior musical number!
and for that matter, remind me to give you my spot-on impression of the entire Island of Misfit Toys musical number (with all of the voices!!) (my secret skill)
Sigh
Brea
Check it out, I'm not making this up
I even have a username to prove it: bperrelli2.
Right now my twitterances are limited to following all of the Food Network chefs. Except you Rachel Ray!
You've had enough exposure for one lifetime. How does one woman manage to get so many shows. Pretty soon you'll have to absorb all of that Rachel Ray in Matrix-Style.
Plug into the Rachelverse for two minutes and wake up saying. "Woah, I just made a Thirty Minute Meal".
Side note: for all of thsoe who didn't get my immensely clever highly specifc title, its a reference to the misfit song from Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer. "Why am I such a misfit I am not just a nitwit"
Little known fact that I've been promoting for years now: there are like four versions of that movie. In only the very first release they Yukon Cornelius strikes peppermint (alluding to how he always licks his pick-axe) and they reference it in all the sequels. And in the final release (the only one that plays on tv now) they cut out the fame and fortune song that they introduced in the second release and replaced it again with the original song from the first one (a shotty re-hashing of the misfit song).
Keep this in mind over winter holidays: You are missing out on a superior musical number!
and for that matter, remind me to give you my spot-on impression of the entire Island of Misfit Toys musical number (with all of the voices!!) (my secret skill)
Sigh
Brea
Check it out, I'm not making this up
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
They Blinded Me with Science
Ok, I had to make a post because I've just made the most hilarious yet obvious discovery.
I didn't realize that adsense used keywords from my blog to formulate links to ads. After a week of I-don't-need-to-look-at-my-blog-for-a-week- goodness, imagine my surprise when I open my page, scroll down to the comments and find that the very first ad is one for GILLETTE!, and the headliner? Their new ProGlide garbage, with razors so thin they dissolve in liquid (surprise family and friends!)
This clearly has nothing to do with integrity and everything to do with me being the undisputed champion of public relations :P (and unintentionally yet). (remember all press is good press???).
So now I'm thinking; Can I reference really popular things out of nowhere to guarantee more clicks equalling nearly countable pennies for me?
Let us see what pops up shall we...
uh, what do the kids like nowadays
Cakes, Weddings,Weight Loss, Travel, Beach, Money Snowboard, Career, Yoga, Acai Berry, Sex and the City, Breast Enlargement, Zumba, Morgan Freeman (Side note: As much as I love you Morgan Freeman, just because you have a voice schtick, does NOT mean you are Stephen Hawking. Get back in your wormhole!)
and lets cap it all off with a nice
EASY
EASY
EASY
EASY
EASY
EASY
for good measure.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Cutting Edge (heh.......heh)
A Week Into Nowhere The Razor Edition
So it seems that I'm still sitting on the blog sandbar and already I've waded in over my head. I have no topic.
(Sandbar Jellyfish)
(The most fearsome kind)
However, I desperately needed to update so now for hopefully a one time deal I'll post the only thing that's been rolling around in my brain as of late- a standup comedy bit that I wrote in the shower (where I generate all my best comedy). -It must be in the hair washing process that we relieve our scalp from all the dirt clogging our head pores and allow our brains to breathe that makes 90% of my developments in any field come from inside my shower. Unless it's the fact that there is nothing else you can possibly occupy yourself with, and the mind wrenching procrastinator's guilt is lifted. Honestly I think everyone would accomplish a lot more if we weren't always giving ourself grief about our lack of accomplishment.
Anyway, regardless of how poor my form is on delivering this bit via text (sorry Kenton) here it is:
Razors
Razors are always keeping on the cutting edge of technology aren't they? Every year they release another razor with one more blade than the last. OH MY GOD, GENIUS! If three blades was good, four blades must be fantastic! Hair-excecution technology-wise: what we should have been expecting by now instead of a hand-held guillotine, is a under-the-skin guided missile system that nukes hairs at the source. Instead, the R and D department must have done all their work in less than a month in the fiftties and retired to cabins in the woods where they could upkeep their facial hair on a full time basis.
Do they really think we don't know that they have a warehouse full of premade razors with progressively increasing blades until the 20 blade-rs saved for release in 2030? People are worried about Sony and Apple ripping them off but they should be directing the skepticism at the "revolutionary comfort strips" and "E-Z Countour handles" disguising themselves as technological updates while they keep the real developments for segregated distribution.
Or is it just that if they skipped right from 1-5 it would seem obscene? But once you've walked away from 4 sustaining only minor injuries- 5 doesn't seem too racy.
Or better yet, maybe the slow progression of closer shaves was made more difficult by the church. Maybe the increasingly hairless leg is looking more and more obscene, so they started a campaign. Keep your leg pores plugged up with hair or the devil will get in- and that's the cause of restless leg syndrome today- a mild demonic possession. (No big deal)
Personally, I think we're not far away from a large home-unit slab of metal -(BLADES OF THE INFINITY RAZOR UNITE!) and we'll just sharpen it and rub ourselves against it. It's our responsibility to preemptively make them ourselves and scare Gillette into releasing the whole razor bounty on us. Once we've hit the pinacle of their technology, all of their stock will just seem obsolete and we'll all be up to our necks in free razors. People will be shaving places where there isn't even hair!- Ah what a smooth utopia...
Anyway, I guess that's all I have to say for now
Happy Shaving,
Brea
The Madness Begins
The Washington Post Bashes Razors
Anyway, I guess that's all I have to say for now
 |
| How about that abomination on the right? |
Brea
The Madness Begins
The Washington Post Bashes Razors
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Getting Underway
So it seems that I've finally started a blog. Since the idea is kind of anti-establishment, the action definately doesn't fall under the reign of "The Man". However, I still feel like a global mobilization of this magnitude has a "The-Manish-Feel". I guess this can be his rebellious brother. Let's call him "The Problem Child". He's the one that dropped out of Yale to persue his dreams of photographing pets at ridiculously high prices, yet still has the same nose and chin as his esteemed sibling.
And since I'm flirting with the problem child by even building this profile (leaning up against his motorcycle, giggling and whatnot), does monetizing qualify as marrying into TheMan surname? Either way the deed is done, my inlaws are creeping me out, and I'm pretty sure I'm in for a cubic zirconia ring.
NOW LET'S GET BLOGGING!
Unfinished Business: The entire idea of a blog is unfinished business- and I'll be returning to my eternal work-in-progress at least once a week until the end of time. What's on the agenda? I'll start off with what I'm thinking about- and hopefully (or not?) I'll discover that I'm secretly much more predictable than I imagined myself to be, and my blog with inadvertently transform into a structured topic.
And since I'm flirting with the problem child by even building this profile (leaning up against his motorcycle, giggling and whatnot), does monetizing qualify as marrying into TheMan surname? Either way the deed is done, my inlaws are creeping me out, and I'm pretty sure I'm in for a cubic zirconia ring.
NOW LET'S GET BLOGGING!
Unfinished Business: The entire idea of a blog is unfinished business- and I'll be returning to my eternal work-in-progress at least once a week until the end of time. What's on the agenda? I'll start off with what I'm thinking about- and hopefully (or not?) I'll discover that I'm secretly much more predictable than I imagined myself to be, and my blog with inadvertently transform into a structured topic.
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