A Running Commentary
My very first... be patient. Even in the best of times, I am apt to wander and get off topic.
First off, I'd like to say a big TeeHee to last year's Miss Universe... Jennifer Hawkins. Makes me laugh... quite a bit actually.
Um... so, feel very sorry for the million girls who came all the way to Bankok and got cut like 2.5 seconds into the broadcast. To add insult to injury, they still have to come on stage at the start of every category and pretend like they all still have a chance.
Holy crap!!! For the first time, like ever, Miss Canada made it past the first cut. Yay. Without a doubt, she has the best hair in the competition.
Holy mackinolee... Miss Canada just made it past the evening gown. I think the end of the world is upon us. No offence to my much beloved country... but... we never win at anything... except maybe hockey... and we didn't even win at that this year. Did you know that Canada has a soccer team? Didn't think so.
The swimsuits... they are white. They look like a bra and panty (hate that word) set... I'm calling Miss Puerto Rico to win the whole thing right now. Although Miss Canada has really, really great hair. Isn't it all about the hair? Re: uber losers... for ever 20 wearing a white bra and panty set, there is one wearing a one piece... who decides which total uber loser gets to wear the granny suit?
Poor Miss Peru... she tripped...
Miss USA... sorry my American friends... she looks like she has some sort of unfortunate head twitch...
Miss Israel... even I want to do her in her l'il bikini bra/panty set...
And now, the consolation prizes... The only thing that stands out is that Billy Bush is a prick.
Mexico, Puerto Rico, Dominican Republic, Canada (Holy feck), Venezuela...
Um... One of these things just doesn't belong here... one of the things just isn't the same...
Completely random Miss Canada fact: Did you know that "Miss Canada" is the top search word people have googled to find my blog? I feel that somehow, I am an honourary Miss Universe contestant.
Question period. Apparently, the questions come from other Miss Universe contestants. If I were Miss Canada, I would ask "What was the most embarrassing thing you have ever done after downing a 26er of Gin?"
Dude... Miss Puerto Rico... never ever open your mouth, ever again.
Dominican Rebublic... adorable. "Men should not copy other men... that's what makes them real men". i hear ya sista.
Miss Canada... She bought and read "Miss Universe Questions for Dummies"... and I would wish for world peace and for all the puppies to be happy.
Venezuela... her question sucked... not her fault she answered it badly.
Mexico... sorry girl. You were so blah, I don't even remember you.
And the winner is.......................................................................
Miss Canada is Miss Universe 2005. You could knock me over with a feather.
Not since Jean Chretien said that we would not go to war in Iraq have I been so proud to be Canadian.
The purpose of this little game was that you then had to go and find your mate. For me, that meant going up to every guy in the bar and asking him if he was Joe Dimaggio. Girl magically became Gwen Stefani looking for her Gavin Rossdale (lucky her... or so it seemed at the time). After several minutes of trying to find everyone's favorite Yankee, Girl and I got into a discussion about what you do should your match turn out to be severly lacking in the looks department. At that moment, almost as if on cue, a rather unfortunate looking fellow approached us and asked "Gwen?", to which we both replied "No". 1.5 seconds later, Girl demanded a new name and got Star Jones.
Um... does ANYONE know who the honk Star Jones is married to?
Don't feel bad, no one at the party knew either. Sadly neither one of us ever did find our matches.
Things I learned at Easy & the Fifth:
1) If a single person asks another single person at a singles party to tell you "their story"... please do not go into a long and horribly depressing narrative about going through a bitter divorce from your wife who cheated on you with your best friend. This is not the best way to impress a girl. Yikes.
2) If a section of the club is roped off and closed for a private party and someone(s) (in the case Bea and Girl) who is(are) not invited to attend this party tries to sneak in... you(they) will be humiliatingly hunted down by the bouncer and kicked out of said private party. Who knew?
Anyway, very fun time, but we decided to head up to the Madison to meet up with a friend of Girl's.
Things I learned at the Madison:
1) The Madison should be used as a classroom example of a modern day labrynthe. Telling us that you are on the upper patio means nothing to us when we can't find how to get there. In a moment of drunken brilliance I decided to call the only person I could think of who had any knowledge of the place so we could get directions. This resulted in a little drunk dialing of my own to the former-PNB at 1am in the morning.
2) Drunk dialing in a really, really, really loud bar... so loud in fact that I could not hear the ring in my ear... is really not a good idea. Sorry UHL.
3) The mirror behind one of the bars is NOT, in fact, a whole other room. It's just a mirror... that reflects images... like most mirrors are apt to do. "Hey, there's a person who looks just like me in that room".
4) Thinking that a mirror is the gateway into another room is surely a sign that another beer is asking for trouble.
So, the Maddi was fun as well. Didn't find my mojo at either place but I made some steps in the right direction... namely in that I showed more boobage than I have in a really long time. Yay Bea! Now I just need to get some colour on the old girls so I don't blind people with my pasty-white boob glare.
Imagine my great annoyance when I was awoken at 4:49am by my "The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly" ringtone. I looked at my call display, but that really was not necessary. I knew who it was going to be... and I was right. It was my considerate friend KS calling while on a visit out west. Among the subjects that will be brought up when we next speak are:
1) Returning a call made earlier in the evening is very thoughful, but, unless otherwise stated on the message, that phone call should be returned at an appropriate time.
2) That yes, there is indeed a time difference between Victoria and Toronto... quite a substantial one in fact. This should always be taken into consideration when drunk dialing.
3) Friendly reminder that I work Monday to Friday, 9 to 5. The chances of me being conscious at 4:49am are about as good me meeting a new Potential New Boyfriend (PNB) at this Single in the City thing I am going to tonight at Easy & the Fifth.
4) And lastly, just to be overly dramatic, which I so love to do, I might go into detail about how I did meet the metrosexual man of my dreams at this event, but he was not turned on by my bloodshot eyes and bags, nor was he impressed with my incessant yawning.
Beatrice "wish I had turned my ringer off last night" Petty
Actually, summer felt like it had arrived yesterday. I have the roomie to thank for her spontaneous "I need to get the feck onto a patio for some drinks" suggestion yesterday afternoon. Brilliant. And I guess this as good a time as any to mention that the "former-PNB/ULH" has popped back into Bea's life. He joined us on the Madison patio last evening. It was fun... like old times actually. Who knew? You can all wish him a nice "welcome back" if you like. He has put up with a lot of guff from the old girl these past few months.
Last night, I learned lots of things... such as, there are many, many, many sexual terms that I was not aware of. The outcome of this little knowledge session, was that I also learned that there are many, many, many sexual activities that a person can participate in that I have nary the desire to ever, ever, ever experience. A "dutch oven" is one thing, but if anyone ever, EVER attempts a "dirty sanchez" on me, OR a "donkey punch", I will kill you. I don't care if I go to prison for the rest of my life.
So, the Madison Avenue pub is this really cool pub downtownish Toronto with one of the sweetest patios ever. It about equals the Sticky Wicket's roof top patio in Victoria. No volleyball court, but hey... when did I EVER play volleyball at the Wicket? Wait, I did once... nevermind.
What I am trying to articulate is thus:
The Madison Avenue Pub makes it into Bea's Official Guide to Summer in Toronto as the best afterwork patio on which to enjoy a few drinks... that is, until I get bored of it and move onto another establishment. What can I say, I have a short attention span.
We were all at Rogers Centre to catch the ball game last night. There was a group of us who went for a friend's birthday and we somehow managed to score some pretty freaking sweet seats, 22 rows up from the first base line. Great seats, but from now on, I will no longer be content to sit up in the cheap section.
Dammit, the nosebleed section was good enough for old Bea before now. Amazing that seeing how the other half lives can do for you.
Anyway, good seats and great action were the themes of the evening. The game was pretty much neck and neck until the very last inning. The Jays had the last "at bat" and with 2 outs and 2 on base, a home run was hit and the game was over. Great for us, but poopy for the surprising number of Boston fans in attendance. How embarrassing for them that they keep losing to the Jays. I love it!
And seeing as how we are on the topic of Red Sox fans, as you may have guessed, everyone's favorite celebrity poker player was in attendance and sitting about 20 feet from us. Poor Benny, when the camera zeroed in on him, the entire crowd pretty much booed him. Besides a few box office stinkeros of late, he is just not deserving of such ire.
I blame J-Lo.
Here ye, here ye... I've decided that from now on, I will no longer to taking any responsibility for anything that goes wrong in my life (and the world). It will ALWAYS be J-Lo's fault.
Loss of Mojo? J-Lo's fault.
Bad case of writer's block? That's right, J-lo.
Cat puking? J-Lo's doing.
Mad Cow disease? Again J-Lo.
Bad weather? You guessed it, J-LO.
Didn't win the lottery last week? Yep, her again.
Ken Jennings losing on Jeopardy 2 nights in a row? Uh-huh, J-Lo.
George Bush winning last November's election? Stupid J-Lo.
I think you see where I am going with this.
Re: Tonight's American Idol. It think it's safe to say that if Bo does not win... we all know who to blame.
PS... I know the former-PNB is dying to know how the new Roger Centre's renovations look. The new astro-turf is a really, really, really, really pretty shade of green. I love being a girl. Tee Hee.
I mean, 5 o'clock cannot come soon enough for me. I'm not sure if I can wait until then to have a sampling of all that nitrate goodness.
Molly, if you are home before me, can you take 2 hot dogs out of the freezer? Thanks, you're a doll!
Sadly, I will be missing his second appearance on said show due to a scheduling conflict. I'm off to see the Blue Jays - Bo Sox game this evening... super fun for sure, but you must all realize what that means? It means I also miss American Idol AND the season finale of House. Please don't feel sorry for me. I'm sure I'll get over it in time.
At least I see the finale-finale tomorrow... of which I think Bo is going to be the big winner (heehee...before I spell checked, I had written weiner. Bo is definitely NOT a weiner). Carrie is cute, and she has a great voice. I just don't think her appeal is wide enough. Not everyone goes in for "Country Pop". As always, only time will tell.
PS. Did anyone see Tom Cruise on Oprah yesterday? What the hell was that all about? He was jumping up and down on that chair like he had A.D.D. and forgot to take his Ritalin. Yikes!
This was to be Bea's Star Warsapallooza weekend... and it was. It was fab.
I was trying to explain to someone why I cared so much about seeing this movie... because it IS just a movie(s) after all. And I guess it comes down to family. That sounds weird, but it's true.
I should take a step back and tell you all a little bit about my Dad. His name is Roger. He's a great Dad, and a great person... but he's slightly eccentric... and by slightly eccentric, I mean totally crazy. He definitely walks to the beat of his own drummer but I consider myself very lucky to have such a good father/daughter relationship with him... as well as a great friendship. I am, perhaps, my Dad's best friend; the person he can relate to the most and tell all his crazy stories to. As frustrated as I get sometimes because I have heard the same stories many, many, many, many, many times over, I love that my Dad wants to include me in his life.
Anyway... back to Star Wars.
My Dad LOVES Star Wars. Given the chance, he will reminisce at length about going to see it in the theatres when it first came out. And when I say at length, I mean it. My Dad has a great knack for being completely oblivious to the fact the his listener is no longer listening. I, on the other hand, have the wonderful talent of pretending to listen when I am not, in fact, listening at all. Bad daughter? Perhaps, but I challenge you to sit in the same room as my Dad for 10 minutes and NOT tune out. Call it what you will-- I call it multi-tasking.
Another thing about my Dad: he does not spend money on anything frivolous. Oh sure, he'll drop 50 grand on a sailboat, but to spend 10$ on going to see a movie... well, that would be a waste of money (remind me to tell you the story of when I took him to see Pirates of the Caribbean. The first movie he had been to since Jedi. "Did our tickets just cost 11 $ each?"). But Star Wars... now that is money well spent, according to my Dad. So, even when my parents were struggling as a young couple with a little baby (me), I have distinct memories of going to the drive-in to see Empire Strikes Back. I remember watching on TV how they made all the puppets, and the Ewok costumes just before ROTJ came out, and then going to see it. And then the videos were released... which he bought (please see above re: not spending $ on anything)... and then the re-release of the videos (again, bought)... new movies, which he actually took the ferry across to the big city to see.
In short (sorry, not short), my Dad's passion for Star Wars was passed down to my brother and I, in a big way. Star Wars was sort of this thing that existed to bring my brother and I and my Dad together for brief periods of time. My Mom, bless her, just didn't get Star Wars at all... but we still loved her. For whatever reason, the universality of these movies brought 3 very different people together. We could talk for hours about Hoth and Endor... or how disgusting it was when Han cut open that Ton-Ton... and when my Bro and I got older, we could discuss at length just how bad the dialogue was or how terrible and whiney Mark Hamil was... it was cool.
And so, yes, I was very excited to see this movie. I really liked it. It was dark. The dialogue was bad (but seriously, when has SW EVER been about good dialogue? Punch it Chewie? Yikes). The special effects good. Everything was tied together nicely. My only regret is that there will be no more Star Wars for my Dad (or me) to get excited about. I guess that's not entirely true. Only a matter of time before the 500$ mega-box set comes out; a purchase I am sure my Dad will happily make.
But maybe not the last.
The last Star Wars movie.
There might be another one.
But perhaps not.
Just not sure.
I guess we'll just have to wait and see.
So continuing on from yesterday where I mentioned that I get mildly irked by products that claim to be one flavour (pear) but in reality are a different one all together (apple)... Last night was just such a case.
For those of you not familiar with Classic Albums Live, it's essentially your favorite albums done from start to finish by a cover band whose sole purpose is to sound exactly like the original. I was lucky enough to have attended Led Zepplin's Houses of the Holy a couple of months ago. Fantastic. It was Led Zepplin. It was freaky. So, assuming that all of the concerts in the series were going to be just as good, it was with much effort that I dragged my tired ass to The Phoenix to catch the cover of Joshua Tree. I did not want to miss it for the world.
It started off great. With the opening riffs of Where the Streets Have No Name, you could feel the excitment and anticipation of the crowd...
So, much like the "it says it's pear flavoured but it is really apple" Bacardi cooler from MiXture... so too was this a case of something claiming to be one flavour (Bono/U2) but was, in reality, something completely different (Geddy Lee/Rush).
There is a reason why U2 is beloved around the world whereas Rush is enjoyed by like 5 people in Canada.
Anyway, despite the fact that this Danny Williams character seemed to consistently forget:
a) That he was supposed to sound like Bono and not inject his own sound and nuances into the songs. In all fairness to him, there were a few times when, if you closed your eyes and blocked his mullet from your mind, you could almost hear a tiny bit of Bono among the notes... but those were few and far between.
b) The words to even the most well known U2 songs.
c) That he was NOT the star of the show and people did not pay to come and hear HIM sing...
... It was a really good show. Kudos to the band (and especially a certain guitarist that the roomie seemed particularily mesmerized by...) for pulling the whole show together. At least they knew what they were supposed to be sounding like.
And here we are, the long weekend almost upon us. I need to recharge badly after two late nights in a row. I have a date tonight... with my couch... and perhaps a certain team of marionettes with a penchant for blowing up important cultural monuments. Also, as it seems that my loss of mojo has also come with an inability to read a calendar and/or movie listings... THIS weekend will be the Star Wars weekend. May the force be with me.
We arrived to the red-carpeted entrance of Holt Renfrew to find the party in full swing. One quick glance around the venue and I quickly thought... Yep, uh huh... lots of Metros.
Lots and lots of Metros and Suits, but a much more diverse crowd than I expected. People of all ages. And it was packed... with all the girls making the rounds of the cosmetic department to collect all the free samples to be had. Lots and lots of samples. I will not have to buy perfume for the next decade... thanks Holt Renfrew! The boys tended to loiter around the bar... It truly was a great place to hold a party. In fact, I see this as being the new way to shop, period. You get the girls doing their girlie shopping with the men no longer having to park it on the bench looking bored to tears... just drop your man off at the bar, and you can shop merrily along your way. No promises as to what state your man will be in when you return, but I'll bet that he will be a lot less annoyed that you spent 500$ on those new shoes. I digress.
The ticket got us a few free Bacardi sponsored drinks, and while I am never one to turn down free drinks, I feel it is my duty to warn the public about a certain Bacardi bottled cocktail that was on the menu last night. If you are EVER offered... even for free, a Bacardi Light Pear Cooler... Run Away! Flee to the hills!!! I still can't get the taste of aspartame out of my mouth and I am always afraid of products that claim to be one flavour (pear) but in reality are a different one all together (apple). There... ye be warned.
So, with drinks in our hands, we made the "sample" circle tour which ended up bringing us to the Lavalife Lounge. Here you got to play spin the bottle with complete strangers. Of course, no kissing because that would have been wrong, but you did pick a card with an activity on it. Girl got to play Jenga with some dude while I played 20 questions with some other dude whose name I can't remember. It was fun, but I found the photographer who must have spent an entire role of film documenting this oh so exciting game of 20 questions to be mildly distracting. As was the CityTV camera pointed at the two of us for several minutes.
"So, do you like... stuff?"
Yikes. Sadly, there was no love match made for either of us. Next.
As we continued our adventures in Sampleland, we ended our tour with Girl running into an acquaintance of hers. But not just any acquaintance folks... a real live celebrity.
Unless you really, really have never watched the Olympics. Or have been living in a cave for the last 10 years, then you know who Donovan Bailey is. For those of you reading this who do not live in the Great White North... Donovan is arguably one of our country's greatest sports superstars. At least, that's what he will tell you. But seriously folks. For a brief moment back in the 1990's, Donovan Bailey showed the world that Canada could actually win medals at the Summer Olympics. Now, I did say brief... I don't want to talk about Athens... I get that enough at work.
So despite the fact that Donovan is married, he was there with a bunch of friends. It totally makes sense. If you, as a single guy, want to attract some cute girls, what better than to bring someone famous. Like flies to honey. We went over and hung out with that crowd for a while. It was hysterical. DB is a pretty nice guy. He is also quite a cheeky monkey too as it turns out-- he loves to have fun with his celebrity. And it is here that I will segway into the funniest part of the night (and no, it was not when DB's friend spilled his drink all down the front of his nice green shirt and looked around to see if anyone noticed. Dude, everyone that looks at you will notice the large wet spot on your shirt).
Like every other person at this thing, this chick walked up to talk to "Donovan".
Chickie : "Hi, do you remember me? I live in Oakville?" (DB lives in Oakville)
DB: "Um, no, sorry"
Chickie "Are you sure? I met you when you were hanging out with Donovan Bailey"
DB, barely able to keep from laughing "Really? I met you WITH Donovan Bailey?"
Chickie "Yeah, the two of you. How is Donovan? Is he here? Do you see him often?"
(At this point I should mention that the small group around DB, yours truly included, were laughing hysterically. Chickie was so oblivious to her stupidity)
DB: "Yeah, I see him quite a bit."
Chickie "Oh well, here's my card. Can you give it to him when you see him, and tell him I say Hi?"
DB: "I will certainly tell Donovan that you said Hi".
Whoa. So that is that story. They didn't stick around too much longer, and in truth neither did we. It was super fun, but in reality, I didn't see a whole lot of people "mixturing". It just wasn't the right environment, in my opinion; the mood was all wrong, the lights too bright... If I had truly gone with the intention of meeting someone, I think I would have been disappointed. But as I had no expectations on that front, I was tickled pink that I was able to experience it. One weird thing? There were several people there doing Tarot Card readings. Seemed like an odd addition to this type of event with this particular crowd.
And so here is the part where I swallow my pride. Here is a pic of me and Girl taken just as we were leaving. Somehow it made it onto the official photo page of the event... which is like, "yikes"... but what can you do when you live in a shoe?
Sufficed to say, I am a wee bit tired today and anticipate being even more tired tomorrow as I am scheduled to make an appearance at The Phoenix tonight to catch the album cover of U2's Joshua Tree. Now, if only I could stop yawning.
Insert the following at random in any of your conversations:
~ You got it goin' on
~ You brought it
~ that was kind of pitchy for me
~ I don't know man
~ Wow man/dude
~ You rocked the house tonight
~ You did your thing
~ That's what I like about you
Just trying my best to educate the world.
At this point, I feel like this show will never end. I like Bo, but I feel that the real characters on the show have all been eliminated. Would I have Scott back? Not in a million years, but he did make the show more fun to watch. I miss Constantine. He was the closest thing I have had to a lover in a long time (the Irishman, god bless him was completely hopeless, poor guy). Constantine made love to me though the camera lens. He mouthed for me to call him at the end of all his songs.
Constantine, I TRIED to call you, but you must have forgotten that you never gave me your number. I'm sure it caused you to sit at home every night and cry yours eyes out on the pillow. I'm sorry. A million times, sorry.
Anyway, I think Vonzell will go. She is really cute, and I really like her, but... I don't know. I just have this "been there, done that AND bought the bobble head" kind of feeling when it comes to her. Also, the feeling I got from seeing her Father at last week's show was that he was a tad unscrupulous and would steal all her money to buy more pimp hats and even bigger gold chains. I'm a horrible person.
Some comments of late about "personal space", mainly with the roomie's feeling that she does not have any and that I play big part in that, have put a monkey wrench into the machinery that is my Toronto life. I can't remember the last time I have felt so alone.
Mother's Day was a couple of weeks ago. I don't know the last time I wasn't able to head over to our wee little island to see her and help her celebrate. Same thing with Easter, Thanksgiving, my birthday etc... As someone who has always been very close to her extremely loving (sometimes stiflingly) and very patient (often underserving) family, I'm really feeling the separation right about now.
When the going gets tough, I wish that I could hop on a plane and go home. When my heart has been stomped on yet again, I wish I could go home and be comforted by my Mom, or have my Dad tell me that all guys are jerks and that I am too good for all of them. When I am under the weather, I wish I could fly home and have my Mom dote on me. If I am bored with no plans for the weekend, I wish I could go home and have a stress free weekend with the folks. Unless I win the lottery, none of these things will be happening any time soon.
My family out west, my closest friends in the burbs, my roommate wanting to spend less time hanging out, for the first time since I came to Toronto, I feel very much like an outsider. Frustrating for me as I feel so at home in this city.
Dating Schmating... where do people meet friends in this city I wonder? Trying to meet friends while dating has proved disastrously ineffective. The hustle and bustle of the Film Festival made it hard to see any one person more than once. People at work are all married and pregnant. Sites like "Friendster" scare the living bejesus out of me. After many an hour of racking my brain, the conclusion that I have come to is thus:
You need friends to make friends.
If you don't already have people to go out and do social things with, then chances are you aren't going out and doing social things. I'm pretty good at doing stuff on my own. In fact, I enjoy going out and doing "me" things around town. My alone time, if you will and I am very happy to do it... It's just those moments, like Friday/ Saturday nights when I think to myself "Gee, it would be fun to see a movie with a bud"... or "It was a really long week at work and I'd really love to hit up Schmooze for 2$ drinks. I promise to eat so I won't disappear into the bathroom only to mysteriously appear in my bed a half hour later"... or even "I'm feeling really mellow and would just love to hang out and play a board game"... it's those little things that have been missing in my life as of late.
So, I'm happy that the warm weather is here. I'm hoping that this feeling of hopelessness goes away once I start enjoying being out and about. And I am hopeful that more people in general will be out and about. Because it has to get better. I have to believe that. After all, I am not a complete social leper... I'm not missing any body parts. I can string a few sentences together coherently. I put my pants on one leg at a time... except that I usually wear skirts... I love the feeling of my thighs rubbing together... not.
Anyway, I'm open to any suggestions, and of course I'll be fine. I'm a strong gal... and it's entirely possible... probable in fact, that this stems from the fact that I am totally PMSing right now.
The 10 things that you do not want to do to me when I am PMSing:
1) Break up with me. That turns a mildly unfortunate event into a Shakespearean tragedy.
2) Insult my character. Actually, this pisses me off at any time, but my reaction to it while PMSing is magnified 10 fold.
3) Force me to watch sappy commercials. Especially commercials that involve old people and children. Especially, especially ones with both old people and children together. Look out, here come the water works.
4) Ask if I want to order pizza. I want to order pizza ALL the time. When PMSing, I could live soley off pizza and be the happiest Bea on Earth.
5) Take me clothes shopping. I gain about 10 pounds in water weight. I get uppity. No one likes an uppity, bloated PMSer.
6) Pay me a compliment. I don't like compliments in the best of times. It's not that I disagree that I am one hot mamma, or that I look devilishly adorable in my new shoes... I just don't like compliments. I don't like giving them, so when I get one, I feel I have to give one back in return. "Um, yeah, your eyes are both the same size. Good for you!"
7) Poke me in the boobies. They become VERY sensitive around the time of my monthly special delivery. At any other time, I welcome and enjoy people touching my boobs. And by people, I mean boys.
8) Not allowing me to have my way. I'm a pretty relaxed person, but while PMSing if I don't get my way... let's just say that you will not have seen pouting like that since your sister was 5.
9) Don't yell at me. Just don't. That's all I will say about that.
10) Make fun of me. I am very good at laughing at myself. For example... when I accidentally say "excrementally" instead of "exponentially" (this really happened) ... normally I would find that completely hysterical and would welcome any and all laughs at my expense... I would be the leader of the laughs... but at PMS time... don't go there or you'll be sorry. I know, yikes!
Let's see how this all pans out.
Tickets, if still available, are 15$ and are to be had through Holt Renfrew's concierge desk. The above link should take you to their number. Supposedly, they were selling 500 tickets and as of last week, HR said that they were close to selling out. When asked what the ratio of guys and girls was, we were told that it was about equal. Having been in the cosmetics department at Holt renfrew, I am at a loss as to how they are going to fit 500 people in there... but hey, I'm not the party planner so we'll just have to wait and see.
The event is sponsored by Bacardi, among others, and your tickets gets you a few free drinks. At least, that was what we were told. The gal I am going with already has some guys she is tentatively meeting there, even before we go. I am hoping that a "few" free drinks means, like, 10. Otherwise it is going to be a very long night. But seriously, it's going to be fun.
Enough about that... let's talk about me. More importantly, what the heck am I going to wear? The event is two days away and I have no ideas save for the fancy little black sequined shoes I bought yesterday. I'm undecided if I want to go all out and get all fancy-pants on yo ass, or be casual? Being casual would go well with my "this is the most ridiculous thing ever!!!" attitude that I have towards this thing. But as I have nothing to lose, I could totally vamp out and have a bit of fun with it. I'll ask the Gypsy Fortune Telling Cards tonight.
And for all those people who searched on the internet for this soiree and found me... if you end up going, don't be shy. Come one over and say Hello. It's all about meeting new people after all. I'll be in Jessica Simpson Dessert Treats section, where I hope to snag some Bubble Gum Lip Candy.
Jessica says: "I love the sheerness and shimmer. They are just so yummy, I can't stop licking my lips!"
Who can resist that endorsement?
In downtown Toronto, a tractor is impractical. Among other things, where the hell are you supposed to park it?
With all this crap going on in our country re: politics: Liberals getting their arses kicked in the Commons, provincial elections in BC etc... it's got me thinking. Is it just me, or are sometimes politicians really yummy? So, as you may have guessed, the above picture is none other than Great Britain's Prime Minister, Tony Blair. Personally, I've always had a bit of a thing for Tony. He's smart, he's dashing and he's got that gosh darn English accent. And then, um... he's also apparently (or so the above pic indicates) dead sexy for someone in their mid 50's AND (according to his wife), he's a devil under the sheets. I love the Brits. Not afraid to speak up about the things that are really important.
But Tony isn't the only cutie-patootie politico on the block. How about this little right wing conservative?
At least Tony and I have a somewhat similiar political ideology... That's right, I'm a left wing west coast tree hugger. You gotta problem with that? But let me tell you, when it comes to "secret" conservative fantasies, Peter MacKay has it going on! OO Wee, that man is adorable. Sadly for me, he is aligned with the biggest political nut job in the country at this moment... although... Stephen Harper does have the dreamiest eyes in all of Canadian politics. Too bad his children look the picture of aryan perfection.
We all have them, so let's be honest about them shall we? Here are some more P.I.L.F.s:
~ Dr. Keith Martin: Member of Parliament in Victoria. The nicest guy EVER, and so sexy.
~ Jack Layton: Leader of the New Democratic Party. Who doesn't love GQ Jack? He's adorable. And unlike Stephen Harper who is using the current Liberal scandal to get himself elected as the next PM, old Jackie boy's agenda is more "hey, now is our chance to actually get a budget that will help the people of our country". What a revolutionary idea! Also, I heard it through the grapevine by someone who works out at the same gym as he does... and where there are gyms the are also showers... let's just say that although he might be lacking in the stature department, he is not lacking in *ahem* other areas where size matters... wink, wink.
~ Barak Obama: Democratic Senator from Illinois. First came to the roomie's and my attention during the US elections last year. In some ways, he restored our faith that America might one day be a sane place. And, he is one handsome dude.
~ John Kerry: I know, kind of weird. But John Kerry in that wet suit? Yum. He just seems so... so, smart. That's it... smart. Who cares if his face is all squishy? But who am I kidding? I'd use him to get to his stepsons. It's all about the Heinz brothers.
Let's see. Who did I forget. Oodles of sexy politicians of that I am sure. Some that I left off purposefully? Let's see. Um, our PM, Paul Martin, aka the most UN-photogenic person on the planet. Here he is in one of his better pics.
You peeps think of anyone I forgot?
Keep up your searches for:
Steve Nash, naked
Nude Steve Nash
Naked Orlando Bloom
Miss Canada Nude (for some reason, searching for Miss Canada anything leads to me)
About a month ago, I came into contact with this guy from the already way to frequently mentioned online dating service site. Ahem. He's a comedian. Literally. A pretty promising up and coming one. If he plays his cards right, in a couple of years, he may appear on "Air Farce" or "This Hour". But he has been away for the past 3 weeks or so. He sent me an email a couple of days ago saying he was back in town after a tour to the Maritimes.
I'm kind of ambivalent about even meeting him... yes, I really AM that asexual right now. That was until I read my horoscope in the news* today.
* news: The Metro. The free "newspaper" you get for being a friend to the environment. Or in my case, being too chicken to drive in this city. And loving the environment.
Anyway, this particular psuedo-scientific fortune telling method literally said something to the effect of "Make a date with a comedian. And don't be late".
Am I the only one who thinks that is weird?
Bea (kinda spooked) Petty
Things that have hapenned so far today:
1) My roomate hates me and is not talking to me.
2) The Sundog, who was supposed to come in from Ottawa thins weekend couldn't get a flight and has therefore cancelled, leaving me with no plans this weekend.
3) I am very gaseous right now and am in desperate need of some Rolaids.
4) I just had to give away my laundry money.
5) I was late for work this morning.
6) I am so swamped with paperwork right now, that it seems silly to actually be doing any work, as there is no way that I can get caught up. Another weekend of bringing work home.
7) Star wars opens this weekend and I know of no one in this town who actually wants to go see it with me.
8) All I want to do when I get home is chill out on my balcony with a glass of wine... but it's so bloody cold. It's also possible that my flowers have died.
9) A very mean man tore a strip off of me because he can't get a reasonable hotel room in Torino Italy for the 2006 Winter Olympics. Dude, this so far from being my problem... I can't even.
10) CBC Newsworld Sucks!!!
Thank you for your time.
"From 2002 until recently, women in their thirties had the scales tipped in their favor - for every million women, there was actually an excess of about 80,000 men of the same age".
Or so says the above linked article that I stumbled across today.
Bea wonders where she was when there was this so-called "overabundance" of single men? The article goes on to say that the scales have now tipped back in favour of men.
Hmmph. It would seem that my mojolessness has come at a most convenient time. And it sooooooooooo explains why there are very few interesting men on magmalife all of a sudden.
Magma. Now that's a fun word to say.
But she did bring up something interesting (as did the Lucky Spinster). Why is it always the guys who we are not interested in who pay us the most attention? And why do the guys we are actually interested in, seem to not want to have anything to do with us at all? Throw in Molly's little dilema and you have a regular little predicament.
A guy I went out with a few months back had just such a term for it. He called it Sod's Law, which basically means "whatever you do, you are going to be f*cked up the arse". I like Sod's Law. It's much more graphic than Murphy's Law and more colourful than "you're damned if you do etc..."
Is it that the boys we are not interested in can sense it, and are therefore spurred on by the chase? And do the guys who we show interest in not show us interest in return because there is no chase? Does this all stem from the days of the caveman when the urge to "hunt" was not done for simply for sport but for the very survival of the clan? Now that the hunt and chase have turned into the weekly grocery shop at Safeway, are men now directing this primal hunting urge towards us instead of the Woolly Mammoth and Sabre-tooth Tiger?
I'm just not interested unless I have to get up off my ass and chase after it.
I suppose it's better than "Where's the remote? Oh, it's over there by the TV and here I am all the way over here on the couch. I guess the channel stays on this infommercial about female incontinence".
So, the chase eh? I suppose I would be happy to oblige. I really should work on getting back into shape if I don't want to be so easily caught. Except... I was never very good at running... have they decided to allow those little Segway scooter thingies on the sidewalks yet? That's much more my style!
You, on the sidewalk... Look Out!!!
So, I'm still on Lavalife. Why? I have no idea, as I have not been contacted by anyone of interest for many a week (give or take a month or two) now. And neither have I actually seen anyone that I would like to contact. It works great, because I am too lazy right now to actually go out on a date and make any such effort.
Anyway... I'm still on. I still check almost everyday... It really is like crack cocaine on many levels...
Oh my god... did someone smile at me? no one smiled at me... my life is over... oh my god, someone just smiled at me... and he's cute... oh my god, oh my god, OH MY GAWD...
Completely retarded but there you have it. Even at the peak of my Lavappeal, I never really liked to spend oodles of time on the site. With that in mind, almost as soon as I went back on after the PNB-Gate, I changed my profile to say NO INSTANT MESSAGES. Nice and explicit. One of my profiles politely asks "no IMs pretty, pretty please". Again, explicit.
So this morning... I check after a few day absence. Lo and behold I have an Instant Message. An instant message from a guy saying "Hey, I really liked your profile". I find this interestingly interesting because, if he said he liked my profile then logic should dictate that he had actually read my profile. AND, if he had actually read my profile, he would have seen that I didn't want to be messaged. AND, just to make the whole thing even more exasperating, it was an IM from a guy who I had already been contacted by several months ago who just kind of *poof* disappeared. No tears shed on that front... it just reinforces, sigh, that I don't get guys.
And just when you thought this story was over, today I have had no less that 3 other IMs from lavaboys:
"Hi" (says Bob who has tried to contact me on half a dozen occasions with nary a response)
"Great Profile. Can I see your backstage" (says the 48 years old with NO pictures at all)
"How was your weekend?" (says the guy who mentions the word "fit" nad about 8, 000 times in his one paragraph profile)
Since when does NO not mean no? Where have all the guys who read gone? Anyone? Bueller? Echo...
Another Idol. Thankfully, Scott Savol was voted off last week. As happy as I am about that, part of me fears for Simon's life. I think that if Scott ever has some expendable cash, he is going to put a hit out on Simon... It gives me the willies just thinking back to the cold glares he directed towards Simon when he didn't jump on Scott's "I am the greatest entertainer of all time" bandwagon. I'm putting it out there that if Simon ever mysteriously disappears... let's just say that Scott might know a little sumpin' sumpin' more than what he's letting on.
So, tonight leaves Bo, Vonzell, Carrie and Anthony. Ah, Anthony. I hope you had a really fun time on the show but sadly, I think your run is over. Be proud that you at least outlived SS and that thousand of pre-pubescent girls have "pretend kissed" their pillows all the while with your face in their minds (my pillow BF was Corey Haim... what the hell ever happened to THAT guy?).
You have my pre-dict... It may all be for not however as I have recently stumbled across this little gem of a website: Vote for the Worst. It comes down to numbers. Are there more people who actually take AI seriously than those who buy into the whole contest? If Anthony stays, I guess I have my answer.
Use the power if the internet wisely my friends. Use it wisely.
Just picked up my ticket to Mixture, a happenin' singles event next Wednesday night at Holt Renfrew. For those of you unfamiliar with Holt Renfrew, let me 'splain to you what it is all about.
If you make less than 500,000$ a year, you will not be able to afford most things sold there. Chances are, you will not be able to afford the things on sale for half price. My one experience at HR was going there with a friend a few months ago. She had a 50$ gift card and hoped to pick up a pair of gloves. She came out empty handed. Why? Because there was not a single pair of gloves to be had under 50$. I, of course, gravitated to the 50% off bin in the aisle where I my eye caught this very pretty little green sequined scarf. "Ooh, half off", I thought to myself. Um... yeah... half off at 450$ is not really my idea of a freaking bargain. I promptly dropped said item lest my sweaty fingers stain the fabric and I was obliged to purchase it. That day, I discovered a whole other world. A world where people have so much money that they can afford to purchase a little flimsy scarf for 900$. A scarf that 3 months later, is now decidedly out of fashion.
Back to the event. Despite being asexual at the moment and thus having no desire to meet a boy, which works well with the mojolessness as I fly under the radar of the opposite sex anyway, I decided to play wingman to a friend of mine. If I was really truly desirous of meeting my soul mate at this particular time, I would never, in a million years, attend this function. For a few reasons.
1) I am skeptical of any guy who would actually go to a singles mixer in the cosmetics department of one of the world's most expensive department stores.
2) The boys who will attend this event will be full on Metrosexual. Of that I am certain. With the exception of my token metro BF Orlando, I am not really keen on men who are prettier than me.
3) I am afraid if I touch something and it breaks, that I will have to take out a loan just to pay for it. Heaven forbid if I break it and it is full price.
Anyway, I am pretty excited. It should be a fun study of human sexuality. My ticket also gets me 15$ off a minimum purchase of 50$ in the cosmetic department. I'm hoping that there is some nail polish on sale. For 50$, that nail polish better be some fanfreakingtastically long lasting nail polish.
Oh, did I mention that there is free booze?
Mine? Well... it's getting there.
Besides having a stack of work to do this past weekend, you could say that last weekend was one of the most eventless ever. True, I did head downtown on Saturday and ended up catching "Kingdom of Heaven". And while it is not the best movie ever... in no way does it make Orlando out to be history's greatest monster. My review? OB is in pretty much every scene, so if you can't stand looking at him, then you shouldn't go see the movie. If you are interested in the history of the Crusades, you should check it out and, it does give some insight as to why that part of the world is still mucked up to this day. I liked it. But then again, I liked Troy. And Dude Where's my Car.
The most rewarding part of the weekend was starting on the patio garden. I'm a pretty adept gardener, but I did learn one thing yesterday:
Potting soil is really, really, really heavy.
How is that for a deep thought? I would have liked to have done more, but it'll have to be done in baby steps because, um, potting soil is really, really, really heavy. For now, I've got a sunflower, some pansies and carnations on the go with more to follow. Hopefully some veggies and herbs shortly. Pretty soon, I hope to have our super-patio looking like a super-urban green space. Fingers crossed that I can have oodles more done by May 28th-- A year to the day that I arrived on the doorstep of this fabulous city... boxes in tow, no place to live, no job. What's a girl to do but throw a party to celebrate this special day... and the fact that I did not get eaten alive by the city as predicted by many people back home and our crazy landlord. I rule!
Just a quick props to Steve Nash of the Phoenix Suns for winning the NBA's MVP award yesterday.
Do I actually give a hoot about the NBA at all? No. Have I ever watched a Phoenix Suns' game? No. Do I even know what position Stave Nash plays? Hell no.
Did I used to live around the corner from where Steve Nash went to high school? Yes. Do I know people who went to school with Steve Nash who say that he was a really super guy even back then? Yes. Would I not object to seeing Steve Nash naked in my living room? Yes (yes, I would not object, meaning that I would enjoy seeing SN naked in my living room... just to make that clear).
Congrats Steve! Canada is proud of you!
Seems that Balion (Orlando Bloom) had just taken the glory, disposed fo Frenchie and married that king's sister, the Middle East might still be an oasis of peace and harmony. Come to think of it, wasn't it all Orlando Blooms fault in Troy too? This guy isn't a movie star; he's history's greatest monster.
Orlando Bloom is history's greastest monster.
Thank you Adam Nayman from The Eye for your honest review of Kingdom of Heaven. You might need to work through your hostility towards Orlando though... I can think of at least 2 other people in history (Hitler, Richard Gere to name 2) who are greater monsters...
Adam Nayman, you have officially been added to my "People who Really Annoy Me" list. OK, I just started the list... and he's the only one on it... but he's at the top of it. For now.
Another dilema from the cyber-files.
" Anyway, I saw him last friday night and everything seems fine. Walking down the street he would hold my hand and he likes to cuddle etc. the only thing is is that he does not seem to want to see me more than once a week....or when he is free and has nothing else on. I invited him to a friend's bday last sat night and he said that he had to check his diary which was at work, and then later told me he had work drinks. I thikn this was bullocks cos when I asked him about his weekend yesteday, he did not even mention that he had been out on sat night. Here I am thinkning that he is too busy during the week to see me cos of work when in actual fact, he is probably busy dating other women. I must say that I am a little disappointed with your news and am not sure what to do. To be honest, I really like this guy but I am not sure what his feelings are ie whetehr he sees this as a casual thing or whether he thinks it may go somewhere. This friday night he has work drinks and I have plans and I don't think I want to see him saturday night.....I just don't see him making any effort at the moment and its been 5 weeks... What is a woman to do."
Um, yeah... This is a little deja vu for me... hence the title of this posting. A friend of a friend brought this little nugget to my attention and I must say, it frightened me just a tad. Avid "Me" readers may remember that this is EXACTLY what was happening with the former-PNB. He acted like he was into me when we were together (hand holding, cuddling etc) ... but he didn't really want to see me more than once a week. He also checked his Lavalife every day and didn't want to introduce me to his friends or meet mine. To make this whole thing even scarier, this particular gal's PNB has the same name as mine. It's like we are living parallel lives, except she lives in Australia. She's like Bea Downunda. Proof that us girls have the same issues with boys no matter where we live.
What IS a woman to do?
Even though I had the same thoughts and feelings as Bea Downunda, this is what I didn't do. I really, really wanted to ask him what his thoughts, feelings, intentions etc... were towards me. I kept putting it off becuase deep down, I was afraid of what the answer would be. Ultimately, the answer was something that I didn't want to hear, but had I had the guts to ask him when I originally wanted to, I probably would have saved myself a whole lot of hurt. Previously, I think I was in denial... Denial is like a drug... a wonderful drug that makes you feel really happy when you are on it, but as soon as you aren't... you come down oh so quickly and painfully.
Because I was in denial, I also didn't really look at all the signs. It DOES say a lot that he only wants to see you when he has nothing better going on. Or once a week. Or that he doesn't want to meet your friends. I was always able to make excuses for this... which was a huge mistake.
He's just not that into you if...
So, Bea Downunda, my humble advice is thus, and as it actually came from my above mentioned PNB when we (I should say I) discussed the matter after the fact, I can't really take full credit for it. A guy who seriously wants a relationship with you, or is really, really into you WILL want to see you, no matter how busy he is. If he can go an entire week without seeing you, he probably doesn't feel the same butterflies for you as you do for him. Here is where it gets tricky for you. If you bring the topic up, or press him to get more serious, chances are he will pull away. I hope that he doesn't, and it is entirely possible that he won't. I'm just going by my experience here. I also know that not all guys are the same and there are many, many other possibilities.
Hmmph... I just re-read what I wrote and I sound like a horrible b*tch saying that I don't think he is really into you... what a thing to say. Not being into someone does't mean that you don't like them. Ultimately, it comes down to what the other person is looking for. My former-PNB was looking for a gal who he needed and wanted to see all the time; someone who gave him butterflies even just by thinking of her. I was not that person. And neither was he the person for me in the end. Maybe you are what your guy is looking for. Only you really know what's going on and how things are between the two of you...
I totally suck... Hopefully someone else will have some wise wisdom for my little Aussie Dopelganger. UHL? GWTH? Any thoughts?
But hey... If it doesn't work out, you can always try to stay friends, start a blog and give him the address so he can read it. Then he can get mad at you when you say things about him and you can have a psuedo-friendship over the internet which will usually entail a series of arguments in the comments section for all to see. Good Times!
What can I say? When I'm wrong, I'm wrong.
Sometimes it feels really good to be wrong.
PS. What was the deal with that "Fallen Idol" special? Some half-witted slime ball trying to sell a record should NEVER be given his own primetime special.
Seeing as how we are on the topic of American Idol and my pic for who will get voted off tonight...
Due to the roomie's appearance in nightcourt last evening, I missed the first 20 minutes of the show so I only caught the mini-recap at the end of all the songs. There was however, a part of the show that really stuck out in my mind... and it had nothing to do with any of the performances.
Each of the contestants was asked what their experience on American Idol has meant to them. The two responses I remember were thus. Carrie answered something to the effect that "it has been such a great experience. I've really grown as a person and I've gone from being this shy little university student in to a confident performer etc... happy, positive, inspirational blah, blah, blah" (obviously it stood out really well)...
Now, compare that with Scott's answer of "Uh, before I came on American Idol, I used to have to pick out my own clothes and dress myself. Now I have people to do that for me".
"So- so I sound like everybody else" voice aside... Scott needs to go. It is a talent contest to be sure, but it is also an "Idol" contest. In a perfect world, along with a good voice, the person who wins should have a personality deserving of being put on a pedestal.
Sigh, but as much as SS's personality and mediocre voice leaves a bad taste in my mouth and I SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO desperately want him gone, my call for tonight is for T-Boy Federov getting the boot. From what I heard of his performances last night... he sucked.
That is all!
Just off the cyber-presses folks... I was requested to post this... to see what my peeps had to say on the matter:
" i've got a "situation", lol, here. i think i told you, every morning i see this girl who i think is beautiful at the gym. i also talked to her about a month ago on match.com. i emailed her asking her if she knew who i was, she said yes, she knew me from the gym, but she was just starting to date a guy seriously who she had been with off an on for like 6 months or something. she's not on match anymore, but she stares at me at the gym all the time. today i was on the stepper and she was a few over from me, and she just kept looking over at me. finally i kind of glared at her, we made eye contact, but she just kind of looked at me with this blank look on her face. then she came and did situps right beside me. i just want to say to her, you had your chance girl. i dont know if she's single now or not, and b/c i talked to her on match i feel awkward seeing her. i don't know what to do, what to say. help, lol!!!"
A little background... this is a guy... a friend of a friend. I have seen a picture of him... granted he was on a webcam wearing a wifebeater, but I won't hold it against him. Anyway, he was pretty cute, but he is also kind of shy.
And seeing how... in the words of my former-PNB... I am so very fond of having opinions about things... I would like to give my two cents on his pickle of a predicament.
Dear Mr. Morning Gym Guy...
You should ABSOLUTELY talk to her... a little "Hey. So and so right? Remember me? We met yaddayaddayadda?". Girls really like it when guys talk to them in real life situations... especially cute guys. If you are shy, all the better. Girls can sense when a guy is shy and we (at least I) find it very attractive when they have enough confidence to strike up a conversation. It doesn't matter if we are single or not... we still like it when cute boys talk to us.
Assume that she is still dating her fella... bonus if she isn't, but at least that way you won't be totally bummed if the first thing out of her mouth is "I have a boyfriend"... which is possible if she is a total b*tch... in which case, now you know and you don't have to waste any more of your valuable workout time thinking of her. But based on what you wrote, it sounds like she is hoping that you make the first move. Some girls are old fashionned that way. Of course, if I always waited for a guy to strike up a conversation with me, I'd be waiting until the cows came home.
Girls don't stare at guys we are not interested in (unless there is an inappropriate use of spandex involved... you're not wearing spandex shorts at the gym are you???) and we certainly do not sidle up to do sit-ups next to a boy after having stared at him from afar if we don't find attractive in some way.
In short, you got nothing to lose... except perhaps, for a momentary loss of ego... which will always come back. And if it doesn't turn out in your favour, to quote my favorite "Office-ism"...
PS. Let us know how it turns out!
I was ORIGINALLY going to make this big announcement about my look for the upcoming warmer months--
(that it was going to be that funky bohemian/gypsy chic and go into detail about how I can now be proud of having grown up on a hippy island on the west coast and unleash the inner bohemian that I was always afraid of showing the world until now etc...)
Instead, this posting will now highlight the fact that after 2 days of searching for cool new outfits, I now have a pile of paperwork the size of the gaping exit wound that my mojo made when it hurled itself out of my body, on my desk. It's already fallen over once, and if someone had not happened by shortly thereafter, who knows what might have become of me.
On an unrelated matter, tonight I have a date... with the roomie... at nightcourt, so she can dispute a traffic ticket. It's the hottest date I have had in a while. Damn you Napolean Dynamite!!!
Very quiet weekend. Re-connected with some old friends on Friday... went to a party down the hall with the roomie on Saturday. It was lame.
Actually, let me rephrase that. I was probably NOT lame. The bloke down the hall who has these parties every other night it seems, has some pretty darn good parties. The only thing about said parties is that they typically don't come into their own until like 1am. Which is good if you are an artiste who can party until all hours of the morning, but us regular folk... "Let's get this party started before midnight" is more our kind of song.
So we bade our time until 10:30 or so before we went over. And it was as I suspected-- just a few people hanging out, waiting for more people to arrive. And what a group of people it was. Rod/Todd was there, and how! He was wearing a saucy little number which included a multi-coloured striped oxford shirt, with non-matching strip-ed pants... and a tie. It seemed bizarre. That is, it seemed bizarre until he apologized for not having come to finish the construction in our loft as he had promised months ago when he was trying to get into the roomies pants...
"I'm really sorry I haven't come over to finish your place, but I've been kind of strung out for the past month. Can I get your guys' phone number?"
OK, Rod, that explains your "Amazing Technicolour Outfit". But at least he had a friend at the party. It's true, Napolean Dynamite was there and just as strung out as Rod. The two of them were free dancing like there was no tomorrow. I hadn't the heart to tell them that it wasn't that kind of a party. Anyway, I didn't stay for long. Apparently, planks of wood are not condusive to partying and/or being sociable.
Being around a mini-Napolean Dynamite did cause me to further reflect on something that I have been thinking about of late though... Let me enlighten...
I saw Napolean Dynamite the movie a while back. I rented it with the PNB and couldn't have been more excited to see it. And then we watched it. There were a few chuckles, but it wasn't the laugh o' minute movie that I had expected it to be. Both the PNB and I were in agreement that it kind of, totally sucked. When I found out that the roomie also severely disliked the movie and I felt much better that I wasn't the only one who was disappointed.
And then it started happening. In social situations, the subject of this film would come up and without fail, it would turn out that the other party(ies) was/were of the opinion that it was the funniest movie ever made. I thought they might have all been mildy retarded but, to each their own and I had no problems with it until...
I started to go out on dates and this subject came up quite frequently. In short, every single guy I went out with was a huge Napolean Dynamite fan... and the looks I got when I said that I wasn't? Well, you would have thought that I had just told them that I clubbed little baby seals as a hobby.
"What do you mean you hated Napolean Dynomite? How could you NOT have thought it was the funniest movie ever? Ugh, I'm just disgusted."
I kid you not. One guy even thought he was Napolean Dynomite. Lots of beer made THAT funny, but I am sure it would have gotten old if I had had to endure it for a long and/or sober period of time. I never did hear back from these fellas.
So, my observation is thus: The world is divided into two camps-- those who LOVE Napolean Dynamite and those who do not. My past experience has led me to believe that these two ideologies are incompatible.
I have spent weeks and weeks analyzing why, that despite having had a great time, these gents didn't want to get together again.
My conclusion? I am now firmly convinced that Napolean Dynamite is 100% to blame for all of this misfortunte. AND, I might even go so far as to say that my sudden and tragic loss of mojo is a direct result of the above mentioned movie and any lack of enthusiasm for it. There is NO OTHER possible explanation.
And what of the solution? You'll be happy to now that I will be forming a support group for people like the roomie and me... the PNB too, if he finds that he has been adversely affected by this phenomenon. We meet under the next full moon. Wear only galoshes and a newspaper hat. Together we will beat this thing down.