It's a Bird... It's a Plane...

Hello Friends,

In honour of the fact that I have joined a recreational soccer league (I choose not to go into the details of how I am working from home the past two days because my body does not enjoy playing soccer as much as the rest of me does...).

So it's been a while since I have mentioned by favorite FIFA, now FA boyfriend, Peter Crouch.

Below is a little show-and-tell I would like to present to you. Call it an Ode to Crouchie if you will. Here are some pics from the latest Champions League Liverpool versus some Turkish team that starts with a G and kind of sounds like Galapagos.

For people even newer to "football" than I am, city specific teams play in leagues in their own country, but they also play teams from other cities throughout Europe and can win both their country's league as well as the European league... and this is not to be confused with the Euro Cup, nor the World Cup. Make sense? Hence why Liverpool can play a Turkish team whose name sounds somewhat like a group of islands studied at length by one Charles Darwin. Or something like that.

Anyway, thanks to Getty for letting me lift images from their site. I promise that these images will be used strictly for educational purposes, in that they will be used to educate the people as to the amazing awesomeness of the tallest footballer in all the land. Peter, call me...

Here he is with the look of dogged determination on his face. How cute is that?

Here's my future husband doing who knows what with his body. He's pretty agile for a guy who is tall enough to reach up and touch the moon. I will ask you to take note at the fear that PC inspires in the Galapagos player. OOh... scawee...

Same shot but from the front. Super Crouch!

What you did not see is that only seconds before this picture was taken, Super Crouch was half way around the world saving a bus load of orphans from crashing into a ravine. He then stopped for a milkshake before returning to the field in perfect position to score a goal. Thank you Goddess for creating such a man.

For what I think are pretty obvious reasons, this is my favorite picture of all time! Ever. In the history of the Universe. In sickness and health. In good times and bad. For ever and ever. You may kiss the football.

How Ali G Ruined My Life

Hey Everyone,

Remember me? That’s right, it’s Bea.

As usual, Bea hasn’t been writing because life has been so utterly exciting-activity free. But here is something to wrap your heads around… Before I begin however, I would like to stress that although it may seem that I am anti-short and anti-bald, nothing could be further from the truth. OK, well, short maybe, but I am quite fond of the bald/ balding man. Unless if course you are Joey Lawrence and then your baldness just creeps me out…

So we all know that I met a guy in July/ beginning of August. He was bald. He was short. We had a very fun night out that ended with what I now fondly call “DVD-gate”, where he lent me the second season of Ali G and I lent him my first season of House. Seemed like a fair trade at the time. I was reasonably confident that I would get it back after all, who would NOT want their second season of Ali G back? Am I right ladies? Then, of course, things took a turn for the annoying and the next month went a little something like this:

I really want to see you let’s do something on Friday… Oh, something came up…. But I really want to see you, let’s do something Friday… Oh, I have to work late… But I really want to see you, let’s do something Friday… Oops I broke my ankle and eff you for calling me a liar.

I did apologize for politely suggesting that he did not break his ankle and that he was full of foul smelling brown stuff, but in more of a Bart Simpson kind of way, where I didn’t mean it because I really do think the he was/ is full of smelly brown stuff but I hate confrontation so I just said sorry in the hopes that one day we could exchange property?

Anyway, at this point the above is really neither here nor there… old news. In the meantime, as somewhere deep inside I have accepted the fact that I now OWN the second season of Ali G and not House season one, I have no qualms about lending out said second season of Ali G to whomever I see fit to lend it to. And lend out I did… to a colleague who lives in my building who was itching to jump onto the Borat bandwagon. And, as my first foray back into dating culminated in I really want to see you let’s do something on Friday… Oh, something came up…. But I really want to see you, let’s do something Friday… Oh, I have to work late… But I really want to see you, let’s do something Friday… Oh, but I broke my ankle and eff you for calling me a liar… I am sort of lukewarm about the prospect right now. I swore that I was done with short, bald men.

Last week, enter short, bald man part deux. True, I had sworn myself off of short, bald men, but this one had a piece de resistance that I just could not, um, resist. Short, bald CANADIAN men, forget it. Short, bald ENGLISH men? All bets are off.

As (mis) fortune would have it, SBEM is also a big fan the second season of Ali G (I am sensing a pattern here…) and suggests that we get together sometime to watch it. Unfortunately, the copy of the second season of Ali G that I possess, which is not really mine but abandoned by another short bald guy, was not to be found in my possession at the time. Instead, it was in the same building in possession of my colleague who, although on the bald side himself, is not short. SBEM says no problem because, like any good short, bald man, he has his own copy of second season Ali G and that he would gladly come all the way over to my little abode that afternoon and we could watch.

Like, whatever. I had nothing else to do that afternoon anyway except laundry and if I had to choose between doing laundry and sitting on my ass… sitting on ass option will always win. Always.

Later that day, I could not help but chuckle to myself about the entire situation. There I was sitting next to a short, bald man while watching the second season of Ali G that he had brought over. Meanwhile, a copy of the same DVD was not more than 4 floors above my head in the hands of another bald man. The copy of THAT second season of Ali G having itself been brought to the building by way of another short, bald man.

Sometimes you just can’t see the forest for the bald men.

PS. Thanks to MySpace for their preview of Borat last night. I can’t promise that is the funniest movie ever made, but it’s pretty much the funniest movie ever made. Jagshemesh!


Sleep, Glorious Sleep

It’s be a super long time, I know. I’ve been mostly just relishing the fact that I the cats are gone and I have been able to sleep. My cat is positively on cloud none now that it’s just the two of us again and I have forgotten what an evil little bugger he was for the past month.

So what’s new?


Last week I learned about what a small world it was. I ended up spending the Monday of Labour day weekend at some thing called Beachfest. Without going into the details, I found myself in a position of spending the day with a group of people who I swore I would never come within 10 feet of, let alone hang out with for the whole day. Sufficed to say that I was more than happy to spend the day sipping beer in ye olde beer garden. Anyway, upon arrival, one of the above mentioned mean girls had with her a guy who looked awfully familiar upon first glance. Not necessarily familiar in the “I know you” kind of way… more in the “He looks likes someone on TV” kind of way. Introductions were made and at the exact moment that this fella was being introduced, a plane from the air show did a fly by and I missed his name. Being the polite person that I am, I did the old lean in and apologized that I didn’t catch his name. “M”, he said it was as we shook hands and I said it was nice to meet him.

And then it was time for beer and music. A few hours and another airplane goes by and I glance behind me to look (what can I say, I like old planes) and M just so happened to be standing there. At that moment, I swear the look on my face must have been priceless, for in all of my dating adventures in the Big Smoke, I have never run into anyone who I had gone out with. And not just gone out with:

How is it possible that I could have not remembered a guy who I made out with along the busiest street in Toronto? No idea, but remember him I finally did. The world is too small my friends… Too small.

Last week was mostly about sleep.

This week? The Toronto international Film Festival. I didn’t volunteer again this year because I really wanted to have the flexibility of actually seeing the movies that I wanted, like we did last year. A few things have put a monkey wrench into the machinery. First and foremost is that my favorite (and only) festival buddy is still laid up with a bummed ankle and is unable to tiff this year. This would no be such a problem were it not for the fact that no on else I know is really into it. Granted, heading down to Yorkville to celebrity watch is super fun and all… but not every night. However, speaking of… Girl and I went down on Saturday to see what we could see and have a few bevies and decided to take a stroll to the Four Seasons and… Like, oh my gawd, like we totally saw… get this… Kevin Costner. I have the mobile phone pic to prove it (I tried to post it, but as per usual, Blogger is having image posting issues...) Note to self… a phone camera is no substitute for a real camera. So, yeah… my other peeps are just not into actually seeing movies so much. Although, I must give Celebrity Boyfriend Stealer a bit of a break. She worked her arse off with Rebelfest this weekend… Think the antithesis of the TIFF… and had the task of shepherding Tom Sizemore around to this that and the other thing. By the way, Mr. Sizemore is apparently the nicest of gentlemen, or so she says.

I’m also not completely all over the line-up this year either. Last year there seemed to be some much to choose from… this year? Besides Borat, and the new Christopher Guest mockumentary, there is not a lot that I would be willing to wait in a four hour line-up in the rain to see. I will see something though, not to worry. My money is on the closing gala Amazing Grace, which stars one of lesser known celebrity boyfriends Ioan Gruffudd. It also features a person with my new favorite name off all time-- Benedict Cumberbatch. I have no idea who this person is, or what he looks like, but I can only imagine that someone with a name like that must be quite a character and someone who I think I should like to marry. What a couple Benedict and Beatrice Cumberbatch would make don’t you think? We would have three children. Barnard and Bernice, twins of course. And the oldest… Bartleby. He would be a barrister when he grew up. Barney and Bernie would follow in their father’s footsteps and become actors and would go down in history of being the first brother and sister to win the Best Actor and Actress Oscar in the same year. Bernie, of course, will win for portraying the lead in the film adaptation of her mother’s Beatrice’s best selling novel. Barney will take home the prize for the drama version of Dude, Where’s My Car, which would also pick up the Oscar for Best Motion Picture that year.

And here I am with the stupidest last name EVER of Petty. I can scarcely bare to look at myself right now.


Things That Have Happened This Week... So Far... Part 2

1) Hootie and the Blowfish concert was last night. It was pretty much exactly how I figured a Hootie and a Blowfish concert would be, except I wasn’t expecting the lead singer to be wearing one of those little metro cowboy hats the entire time. With the exception of the drama surrounding my gay date and the crazy fella from a little further down the row stalking him for an hour and a half, I am a little annoyed that those are 2 hours out of my life that I will never get back and could have spent at home watching all my favorite Brit comedies. I take comfort in the fact that the other couple of thousand people felt the same way. How could I tell? Well, to quote my favorite book from last year: “The crowd is just not into you if… they only really clap at the cover songs from other bands you are playing”. No word of a lie, the crowd roared with delight at 54-40’s I Go Blind. You could almost collectively hear the crowd thinking “Wow, a 54-40 concert would be so much awesomer than the one I am at right now."

2) Thrice Disser kinda sorta apologized to me. It turns out that he was a little miffed that I didn’t believe that he broke his ankle and accused him of lying. Who knew that guys could be so sensitive? No word on just when I will be getting my House back so I suppose I will just have to take comfort in knowing that season three start next week. Hooray!!!

3) Right now I can hear the airplanes getting ready for the air show this weekend. I like airplanes. Kind of have the yen to go see Snakes on a Plane right now...

Have a good weekend y’all. Kitties are going home this weekend. When? No idea… But hopefully at some point I will be able to have the first decent night’s sleep in what seems like forever and not be such a brainless twit next week. It will be nice to have my boss ask me a question and be able to do more than stare blankly back like someone who has temporarily forgotten the English language.