where every palm tree knows your name

Ugh. I don't even know where to begin.
Actually, I do:
First, that's not Arabic. I know I'm not fluent, but I'm pretty sure a jumble of tribal yells with the word "Allah" thrown in doesn't equate a language fragment.
Second, I can only imagine the thought process behind the song -"Hey yo, Flip, who got alotta money?"
Third, A-rab? Really? I'm pretty sure Busta's voting for Obama, and yet, he chooses the deliberate and derogatory mispronounciations of the GOP.
Fourth, they fully stole the idea from this guy.

i could have gone as a pumpkin

As Hallow's Eve and sexified anythings draw near I can't help but try and recall why the event never quite excites me. What could be so unappealing about piles of individually-wrapped sugar, "hilarious" costumes and general tom foolery?

Everything.

I swear I'm not a buzz kill (a majority of the time), but something about nearing quarterlife and trying to make a list of 'must-haves in witch couture' makes me very, very tired.

Once upon a time as a wee little FOB, Halloween was this elusively obscure event that the other kids talked about ad nausuem and I, having spent the toddler/early learning years tethered to a condo, spent the majority of my first two fall months at school trying to figure out how they were allowed to go from house to house asking strangers for candy. I remember approaching my mother one day, a costume parade permission slip in hand, and explaining that a parent's signature on the dotted line would promise a 7 year-old's appearance at school that Friday, dressed in a suitably fun costume (preferably of the home-made variety as prizes wouldn't go to three Rainbow Brites). What a lack of ink-spelled permission equalled, I hadn't known yet.

Of course, my equally foreign mother decided anything drawn from paganism/satanism/too-time-consuming-ism was a definite 'no', so to my horror I was the kid, the foriegn kid, without a costume that day.

The ramifications were as follows:
1. Appearing at school that Friday in my pink sweatsuit to realize I was the only kid in class not in some form of costume.
2. The new, new kid had one of the better costumes, immediately bumping him up above me (the old new kid) on the playground social ladder.
3. No costume meant I had to sit out the parade and the chance to win a plastic pumpkin full of candy the size of my head.
4. Not being in the parade meant I would have to stay behind in class while the rest of the kids went out into the courtyard.
5. Being the only person, including the teacher, not in costume meant I couldn't be left alone in the classroom so I was trotted off to the library.
6. The arbitrary group of non-costumed kids from grades 1-4 that awaited me in the library looked like a model UN, made up of ESL kids mostly.
7. We had to play Hungry Hungry Fucking Hippos.

In the years that followed, my parents eventually eased their vice-like grip on Halloween and allowed my sisters and I to trick or treat (but only to 5 places)and wear costumes (but only if they were store-bought) but somehow that first experience always left a sour taste in my mouth- no matter how many Blow Pops I consumed.

And I don't think she's planning to have a good Halloween either.

worse for wares

Remember that time you had to sell something you owned because you wanted/needed something better instead? Whether it was selling your old toys in a garage sale so you could buy new ones, bartering with Used CD store reps so you could afford a weekend show, or, as my co-worker confessed recently, selling limited-eition Star Wars action thingies for neek-covered bills to go towards your rent. Most of us have at one time or another sold something near-and-dear, fleeting, broken or self-made in order to make ends meet. I know I have. My sisters and I ran an illegal my-junk-your-jewels cartel at summer camp in grade school where we sold everything from our old books and Happy Meal toys to free-with-purchase lollipop tattoos (that we would apply at the appropriate station). So, I can honestly say I can relate to the saddest headline I've seen since 'Haper wins Minority':


"Last 'Titanic' survivor sells mementoes to pay for care"

Apparently the Britt who was only two months old when the big "practically unsinkable" ship sank (and Leo died)is now resorting to selling her Titanic-related belongings to cover her nursing home bills. Up for grabs is a century-old suitcase filled with the courtesy clothes the family received once they arrived in the States.

My heart.

on her last night she pulled each daughter aside. bestowing last-minute confucianisms and fragements of what she hopes is awakening is customary. my turn came sooner than I'd hoped as I sulked into the room after her. we sat side by side, the silence palpable. taking my hand to examine, she sighed. i braced myself for the criticism my jagged cuticles usually receive as they bear the likeness of my many moments of weakness. instead she enveloped my hand with hers, whispering "see, they're identical."

yeah...

don't bother.


except do.

never thought that hip hop would take it this far.

Yes.

mean girls.

Due to popular demand (and the fact that I haven't been able to shut up about this only to receive blank wtf stares), I bring you the Mallick-Palin smackdown. If this were boxing Mallick would have TK'd Palin easy (all three rounds)- only to be falsely accused of fouling after an anchor or two made a large enough kerfuffle.
The gist is that Heather Mallick, a well-known Toronto-based columnist for both CBC and The Guardian, wrote a very emotion-driven, clearly opinion-based piece on just how unfit Madam Baked Alaska really is. She uses angry, slashy, very descriptive words that are, in my opinion, intended to shock. She holds nothing back attacking every nuance of Palin's life, from her intelligence to the way she raises her kids. I don't necessarily agree with a lot of what Mallick wrote- although some was witty and dry- but the consequences she received as a result were over-the-top and misguided.
Basically, U.S. right-wingers came across the column on-line, made a big ol' stink about how Canadian tax-payers' money was being used to fund such a hateful site and proceeded to notify the most reliably right-wing news source: Fox.



Yes. Really.

Surprisingly, CBC decided to pull Mallick's article “A mighty wind blows through Republican convention”, which has been since labelled controversial (it's even be added to her wiki page), and an apology/retraction was issued. The article was dubbed "grossly hyperbolic and intensely partisan" which makes me wonder if the same terminology or adamant scrutiny would've been made if the author was a male columnist. Mallick clearly used emotion-charged terms but to mock them as extreme exaggeration? Why not just blame mensies while you're at it?

Long story short Mallick never made any apologies herself, was called a pig by the very same blonde Fox "reporter", and is continually berated by the American public via email, blog posts, message boards etc. She recently posted an update regarding the issue on her website where she weighs in on the events in hindsight.

So, as a CBC spokesman put so pithily, "liberty is not the same as license".... vrai ou faux?
Discuss.
But make sure you don't have it published, lest Fox sics van Susteren on you.

next time, just turn over

i woke up this morning with the kind of headache that makes you feel tethered to your bed, or at least to your most current bad dream. walked into work only to realize I had two days worth of crap to cram into one (the "perk" of an editorial Friday off in lieu of normal thanksgiving). came home to find my cat in heat (again). misplaced aspirin due to my misplaced thoughts. was almost late in meeting a friend for a theatre date. was moved. had a cabbie that tested my fear of oncoming traffic.

by my count, i nearly cried four times today.

nuit blah

my very first Nuit Blanche was sub par for the following 10 reasons:

1. being totalled by 40-year old men who can't say excuse me.
2. strollers.
3. strollers with children in them.
4. being followed by a hoard of males who only uttered 'bloodclot' ad nauseum.
5. being too vertically challenged to actually see any art from behind huge crowds.
6. huge crowds.
7. waiting in line for public restrooms.
8. public restrooms.
9. running into people you didn't want to see, while missing the ones you did.
10. overhearing this: "I think Nuit Blanche has lost some of its meaning. I mean, it's all about being just for show now."

it wasn't a complete loss due to the following 5:

1. ndeur/duponchel
2. public drunkeness = shadenfraude.
3. watching an elderly couple study an overflowing trash bin as though it were installation art.
4. seeing faces I've missed.
5. szechwan at 4 a.m.