Something I Support About Canada

I know, you hear me bitch a lot about Canada. Ok, specifically about French Canada. However, I will admit when they have us beat. Wanna know where they have us beat (and by "us", I mean Americans)? Healthy eating and controlling obesity.

Almost every Canadian who has had the balls to broach this subject with me (and given their dislike of Americans around here, most of them don't have a problem broaching it, and it sounds like this, "I was surprised to hear that you're American because you're not fat."), approach our eating habits with a mix of disgust and awe ("Man, I did love it when I was living in the States and every half block on my drive home I could pull over for fries. That was sweeeet.").

Sometimes, when you're discussing it with somebody who's not just looking for a reason to point out America's inferiority, they'll actually make good points, like "Well, fast food is so much more a part of your culture - it's where you go to hang out with your friends" or "Yeah, I noticed when I was down there that even the grocery stores down there were different. There were aisles and aisles of chips and cookies and candies. You just can't even buy that much bad food up here." And, observationally, as Wal-Mart becomes the place more and more people buy their food, taht gets worse. Because that's about profit, right?

Ok, here's the thing. The US annual obesity rates just got released. THERE IS ONLY ONE STATE IN THE UNION WHERE 20% OF THE POPULATION OR LESS IS NOT CLINICALLY OBESE. Congratulations to you, Colorado. Reason #442 why you're awesome. Deep south and West Virginia? OVER 30% OBESITY RATES. And most of the country is well over 25%. Here's the breakdown.

That's not okay.

The killer is, this is not that hard to fix. Get up off the couch. Cook better food, at home. Make your kids be active, because that's the fastest growing segment. In 23 States, people are MORE obese this year and last year. NOBODY is less obese than they were last year. Is this going to be like the economy? We wait until it completely crashes on us before we do anything?

I know we all hate socialism, but maybe making it harder for McDonald's to own every street corner isn't the worst thing in the world.

 

Sleep well, MJ.

There's so much to talk about lately, but I guess I'll start with Michael Jackson.

I had the poster. You know the one. The Billie Jean one. It was on my wall back when my bedroom still had wallpaper with cute little cats and dogs on it. I didn't take it down for years. Well, until roughly when "Bad" came out.

I had "Thriller" on vinyl. Who in my age range didn't though? I played it over and over and over again. But again, who in my age range didn't?

As many of you know, I had 13 years of dance training. There were *a lot* of dance numbers to Michael Jackson songs in there. Catwoman - I'm talking to you about "Dirty Diana." And black spandex biker shorts with neon stripes.

I saw somebody say today, and I'd like to second it, that I remember the days before internet streaming where you couldn't just see any video you wanted when you wanted it, and the need to stay glued to MTV to see "Thriller," or "Billie Jean" or "Beat It". You had to *work* to see videos then. Those videos were always worth it.

Did you know, by the way, that the Michael Jackson death all but shut down the internet? Cnn.com crashed. Twitter crashed. TMZ crashed. Wikipedia crashed. There was a whole CNN story on it today.

But here is what strikes me most about the Michael Jackson death. It's almost as though we've forgotten that we tormented this man into seclusion and possible drug addiction. The media coverage is all "Let's not forget that despite his impressive musical career, he was marred with wierdo behavior." I mean, let's not forget that it was wierdo behavior that we all wanted to hear about in the most salacious manner possible.

In a crazy moment, I found myself agreeing with Dr. Drew Pinski in a comment he made about Britney Spears family being awesome - and yes, I hated myself in this moment. But he basically said that Michael would have been better off if he'd had a family like Britney's, who when she was exhibiting obvious mental health problems and possible drug problems, stepped in and created a conservatorship and protected her. You do have to wonder if possibly the saddest thing about Michael Jackson's life was that, until it was too late, there was nobody there to protect him. I don't think it's debatable that to a possibly lesser and possibly greater degree the man died with some crazy in him. The sad part is "how much of that could have been avoided," and probably the harder question is "how much of that could have been avoided while not denying the world a man's talent and seemingly endless goodwill?" I guess there is always revisionist history when something like this happens, but it just seems like "He was a man everybody loved" would be a more honest statement if made "He was a man everybody once loved, but now mocked." I also, in another moment where I hated myself, found myself being grateful for Pete Wentz's public flogging of Perez Hilton for trying to act like what he does isn't on some level evil. Pick on the strong, you know? Lots of celebrities out there asking for drama. To the best of my knowledge, Michael Jackson just wanted to be left alone.

I don't know. I know that life usually plays out the way it's supposed to and in my world Michael comes back around sometime and has the most fantastic childhood that he seemingly always dreamed of. And if the iTunes best seller list is any indication his entire debt will soon be paid off by the rash of song downloads going on right now.

And maybe his death will put him back where he belongs. Admired as an entertainer and a trail blazer. Much of the strangeness forgotten. Not that I was above saying "He named his kid BLANKET? Are you kidding me?" I made all the jokes about his turning into a white man that everybody else did. And I feel badly about that now. I hope we all do.

In 8th grade, I had to do a report on Motown. I had video clips, and one of them was of Michael Jackson doing the moonwalk for the first time. That says something. That that moment was important enough to make it into an eight grade term paper.

Sleep well, MJ.

 

10 Haiku

I think I've worked 50 hours already by a Thursday, so this is what my brain is reduced to.

This, and counting the hours to Vegas.

1.
It is June first in
Montreal. I had to wear
A winter coat. BLAH.

2.
Defeated by the
Never-ending winter. I
embraced tanning beds.

3.
Vegas in 9 days.
Bought slutty dresses and small
trampy bathing suits.

4.
Facebook blocked at work.
Suddenly I find many
more hours in the day.

5.
French MTV is
hours and hours of priceless lush.
entertainment. Oui!

6.
Fucking Chris Osgood.
Like watching last year over
again, kill me now.

7.
Oh, Ryan Seacrest.
I miss you already. Like
a hole in my heart.

8.
John and Kate, plus eight.
Why do you torture me so?
Get off my T.V.

9.
MTV Movie
Awards? Those happened? I can
remember caring.

10.
I got your sugar
Right here. It's called pie. On a
good day, I will share.

 

If My Independent Life Were to End Here...

So, today I was talking to a dear friend of mine from high school. We were friends in high school, but in adulthood grew to be much closer in that "it's always an unfinished conversation" way because we lead such similar lives.

(Side note: Dennis Leary is so freakin' hot. But we don't get Hulu in Canada, thanks for painfully reminding me of all the things we can't get up here with your sexy commercial.)

Anyway, this girl recently decided to get out of a relationship, or at least take an extended break. And when we were talking about why, she said the following, "I just looked at it, and I said to myself, 'Self, if this is where the independent part of my life ended, is this where I would want it to end?' And my self answered, 'No.'"

Now, when she says this, she isn't necessarily referring to the person, because she does adore the person. She's mostly referring to all the life situations in terms of where she'd have to live, how she'd have to live, what her life would have to look like, in order to be with this person. It's a wise decision. She knows in a couple of years she'd be even more frustrated with the things about that situation that make her crazy than she is now. Why prolong, she says? She's always been independently minded. She's wise. More people should be wise like her. But really, what I think is that more people should ask themselves that exact question before getting serious. "If my independent life ended here, would I be okay with this being where it ended?" It's such a wise question. I wish I could make everybody learn that question, ask it over and over again. It makes you face a harsh truth and really look at it. If you're brave enough to, which most people really aren't.

She's a lot wiser than I am, because these are the kinds of conversations I'm having about my relationships right now. They sound a lot like this.

Clifford
So, how are things with The Gangster and The Youngin?

Me
Good. Excellent, really. But you wanna know what gets on my nerves so badly about both of them?

Clifford
Do I? Wait, yes. I do.

Me
Effing Euro fashion.

Clifford
OH HA! Like, you're out with them and what you're thinking is "Man, I'd really like to take this guy to Abercrombie and Fitch and dress him like a good American boy?"

Me
So.Yes.

However, I can confidently say that if my independent life were to end today, I would not be comfortable with it ending with a gangster or somebody a decade younger than I am. So that takes a lot of pressure off.

ps - First person who says, "In the right situation, your independent life wouldn't have to end" gets a backslap. Then you would be Madonna, and she's not anybody's relationship model.

 

Sign In for the Breakdown.

There's that moment that you wake up and realize that you will have an amazing summer.

- Vegas in T-10 days, Martini, A-Train, K-Roc, Kimmy, the Asian Part Posse, Pouncy if I'm lucky, and now it appears that the kidz from Detroit are flying in to join the weekday portion of the partay as well.

- Pookie and HoneyDunce arrive in Montreal two weeks later for four solid days of fun and sun and jazz

- And then two weeks after that an amazing trip that involves a stop in D-Town to see K-Yo and hopefully Princess D and also the little one(s), mountain climbing with my Hoosier+ChiTown posse, a week in San Fran with the "wow, those folks are cray cray" people whom I love dearly, and then Sonoma/Napa again with the Asian party posse for what will be a lovely wedding.

And there is rumor of a weekend in the Burgh to see some baseball, but you can't count on me to not break that up before it happens.

And then it will be football season again.

I don't like this nonsense that I've become a northerner because I consider summer to be three months. That can't be my future.

But then you stop and think of the way that the summer is going to fly by. And you stop to wonder, but when will I slow down enough to find the other things I'm looking for? And then you realize that you won't, and that those things will have to find their way to you and that will have to be the way that works. And you hope that it really is true that you'll attract what you need in the universe. In all ways.

And the other day I got all sefl-righteous and was all like "If all you ever do is all you ever know, you'll never learn anything" to somebody. But isn't this all I ever do? Turn the speedometer up to high and dive into the party? Would I not be better served by trying something new and slowing down or stopping for a while? Or am I just what I am?

That's all. Thanks for tuning in for tonights inspiring psychological evaluation. That "Sex and the City" quiz said I was Sam Jones. I think I may be okay with that, and I don't just mean because she gets laid a lot.

 

Five Things I Have Opinions On. That is all.

1. American Idol: Who even cares who won? Seriously. The finale was the best two hours of TV I've seen in a long time. Cyndi Lauper played the dulcimer! Kiss with Lambert in full Kiss attire other than makeup! Lionel-freakin'-Richie! BEP doing a live version of "Boom Boom Pow" that is SO MUCH BETTER than the recorded version. Norman Gentle! They'll both be stars. That finale though? Worth all of the approximately 46 hours of my life (almost two full days people) spent watching that show this year.

2. DWTS: Listen, Gilles will have roles (I hear a rumor of an offer on "Brothers and Sisters") and, sure, he should have won. But did you really think America was going to vote for a FRENCHMAN over an AMERICAN OLYPMPIC MEDALIST? Come on. Plus, she's only 17. It means more to her.

3. SYTYCD: I laugh because I know that I have non-North Americans who check in with me here and whom, I'm sure, are all like "What is all this bizarre reality TV you all watch and why can't you just call it by the full names?" Looks like it will be a good season, but I never really like the audition shows for that show. You need the real dancing for it to count.

4. Terminator: Salvation : I honestly thought the TV show was better. If you are a nerd (raises hand) you will find this to be too much flash and not enough Terminator legend for your liking.

5. The Pens: So it will be a rematch. We'll have a goal-tending problem. Fleury is great, but he plays straight to the puck, and they shoot at lots of sharp angles. Both teams are better than they were last year. The question is - do both Malkin & Crosby stay hot, and if they do, I say Pens in 6.

 

Score Another One for the Twenty Five Year Olds

Him
Does it bother you that I'm only twenty-five?

Me
Not so much. I don't date in my own age range very often anyway.

Him
Why's that?

Me
Those guys frequently are ready for marriage, and kids. Moving in together. The idea of a future. That's not so much me.

Him
What's you, then?

Me
I don't know. Something not that. I'm not good with things that require plans, commitments ... expectations.

Him
Then this works out perfectly, because I find your total lack of any kind of reliability sexy.

It is what it is, people.

 

Crazy is a State of Mind ... that most men in their late thirties have.

Recently, I was talking to somebody who's dating a 26 year old girl. He was complaining about how she's erratic, insecure, unprepared for a relationship, etc. To which I said:

"This has nothing to do with Jen as a person, this is just about Jen being 26. Twenty-six year old girls are crazy. I was. Every girl I know was pretty crazy at that age. You just have to accept it and deal."

Which I think to be true. I know very few females who were not insane to a certain degree during their mid-twenties. That's a time when, as a female, you're really deciding how you're going to define yourself as a woman, how much how society has defined women is going to impact you, how to be "in a relationship" and "independent" at the same time, how to keep your own identity while being good in a relationship, how to love your body, how to adjust to how your body is starting to change, how to deal with the glass ceiling, all those things. In that age range, it's much more simple for men to know who they are. The expectations are generally more streamlined for men. The road is straighter. So, I write this behavior of my friend's girlfriend off to "All girls are crazy in their mid twenties. It makes it hard on men. It is what it is."

DON'T YOU WORRY, MEN, WE GET WHAT WE GAVE WHEN YOU HIT THE 36 TO 42 AGE RANGE.

I mean, it's true. It's totally okay to say women are crazy in their mid-twenties, because men clearly go crazy in that late thirties, early forties range. It sounds something like this:

"Am I still a boy? I can't be a boy because I'm a man. Am I enough of a man? Am I a provider? Am I manly enough? But am I enough of a man while still being a *sensitive* man? Do people know I'm sensitive, or do I come off like an asshole? What if I am an asshole? Or what if I'm too sensitive? Do I have a big, fat gut? Is it okay that I have a big fat gut because I'm not twenty-one anymore? OH MY GOD, I'M NOT TWENTY-ONE ANYMORE. Does that fact that I'm not twenty-one any more mean that I should not spend all my time playing softball and drinking Bud/going to punk shows/playing video games with my same friends from high school and college? But if I stop doing that, do I give up my youth? Am I old if I have a kid? What if having a kid is the only way to hold onto my youth? Should I want a kid? What if I'm not really enough of a man if I don't have a kid? Should I learn to rock climb? Would I be less fat if I didn't sit on the couch watching sports and drinking beer? But watching sports and drinking beer is what makes me a MAN. But what if that's not really what a man is? OH MY GOD, I HAVE NO IDEA WHO I AM. Are drum circles gay? WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO BE DOING WITH MY LIFE????

...Fuck it. I'm going to the strip club."

Listen, men who are dating or have survived a mid-twenties female, try dealing with somebody going through *that* nonsense above. I mean, it's just as bad as any time you've had to deal with some girl in her twenties saying "I just need some time to figure out what I want."

This is why I went for such a long time dating men in the age-inappropriate category. And I am *seriously* considering returning to that because I don't have time for your journey of self-discovery. That's not true, I have all the time in the world. What I don't have is the patience for your journey of self-discovery. Or your CRAZY ASS SELF REFLECTIVE SHIT. Buy a journal. Get a blog where you can spit that self-indulgent shit out all day long (I do). Watch some Oprah. Or some Dr. Phil. It's what women do in their mid-twenties and we all seem to end up fine our our early to mid-thirties. DO NOT JOIN A DRUM CIRCLE BECAUSE I'LL BE EMBARRASSED FOR YOU.

But if you do need to join a drum circle, you can use this handy resource.

Listen, it's fine. As gender, you've earned the right to go through your own "crazy phase." I'll be down the street on St. Catherine hanging out with the twenty-five year olds until you figure that shit out.

Peace.

 

Five Quotes from Kentuckiana Weekend

1. "Dean Isn't Smart Enough for You"

A conversation while sitting outside in downtown Louisville, smoking.

Me
You know, if it ever came down to it and I had to give up my love for Dean Winchester in order for you to have him and be happy, I would do that and take Sam instead and feel okay about that.

Catwoman
Dean isn't smart enough for you anyway. You'd be frustrated.

Me
It's true. Sam is smarter. That would work out better. Plus, he's tall. So that could work out.

Catwoman
So I'm glad we're on the same page about that.

And that was how we had a ten minute discussion about fake people and what would happen if we had to compete to date them.

(I also enjoy how the wikipedia entries for both Winchester brothers list their "special powers." Though I also feel that "being so sexy it blinds" should be listed for a special power for both of them.)

2. CATCH UP, SON
A totally random text received on Friday night from Ferris.

Hm. What's that, kid? You think you're cooler than me because it's a Friday night at Target and you're standing in front of me in line with your hot girlfriend buying condoms and I'm buying cat food? Ha! FUCK YOU. I bought condoms on Monday. The TWELVE pack. Learn to catch up, son.

(We later decided this would go on his tombstone.)

3. Let's Talk About WOPS
This is really only going to be funny to about 10 people who understand that the inappropriateness here isn't necessarily in the content of the text messages but in the fact that I entertained communication with this sworn off vice at all.

Him
I'm kinda drunk.

Me
I'm kinda drunk too - but I'm kinda drunk in Kentucky.

Him
That sucks for me. Bring me back a Wildcats shirt.

Me
That's Lexington. I'm in Louisville.

Him
Bring me back a Cardinals shirt. Pitino = fellow WOP.

Me
Pitino = under legal investigation. Are you sure you want to claim him?

Him
He wouldn't be a WOP if he weren't.

(We all know this is ending badly. )

4. Robin Thicke is Still The Sexiest
The sound track to the best sex is always Robin Thicke.

Me
I'm listening to the Jennifer Hudson album on the plan because I hear there's a song called "Don't Make Me Hit You With My Pocketbook" with Luda. I'll listen to anything Luda.

K-Roc
I'm listening to mostly British bands right now, but I do love that new Robin Thicke song.

Me
He's so the sexiest. Robin Thicke could sing me the instructions to a home pregnancy exam and I'd think it was hot.

(Just imagine it - the falsetto kicks in and it's all "Position the stickkkkkkk")

5. No Sympathy for Moms
I actually said this to Roxanne's mom just hours before the wedding.

"I'm about to tell a story about sex and cake. Can you hang?"

(And....that's why I'm not the one getting married.)

 

A Distrubance in the Force

There has been a disturbance in the force of late. A shifting of something that, for so long, was as right as rain. Was understood. Was a safe haven of knowledge in an ever changing world.

And that shift, my friends, is that Jack Johnson has replaced Dave Mathews as the cd that men in their mid to late thirties play when they want to get laid.

I am thrown askew by this change.

Now, I know what you're thinking: "Isn't it Marvin Gaye or Robin Thicke that those men play when they want to get laid?" No, no. This is what men play when they KNOW that they're going to get laid. There is a difference.

Now, the M.O. has switched. You are invited over to dinner, and afterwards, in an effort to show you how sensitive he is, your date puts on a Jack Johnson cd. This is followed by a statement like "I wish I could live more like Jack Johnson. He's so TUNED IN. He's so CONNECTED."

For YEARS, this routine played out with a Dave Matthews CD in the stereo. The line was like "Dave Matthews really understands the human experience" or "Dave Matthews really keeps it simple. Life should be that simple."

The force has shifted. And I am thrown askew by the new shift. Mostly because I dig Jack Johnson in a way that I never dug Dave Matthews, so I am more susceptable to this nonsense.

For the record, the "upsell" album if you're not biting on the sensitivity bit, which is meant to make you feel safe about getting naked, continues to be the John Mayer "Continuem" album. Often followed by this, "Yeah, I just don't understand how he could break up with Jen Anniston. She seems like such a sweet, truly nice girl."

Shut the hell up. Seriously. But at least that part I understand. Jack Johnson. The fabric is shifting. Just say it like this, "I want to listen to Judas Priest and make out. Cool?"

 

The State of the State: Spring 2009

I've been having a hard time blogging lately because, you know, dating a lot. And it's sometimes hard to write about people when you're still figuring out what space they're going to occupy - or not occupy - in your life. So many of the stories that would be the best stories are going on outside of this blog space. But probably what will happen is that in six or eight months or so they'll all make their way here when whatever damage is going to get inflicted is already done and over.

I will say that one very sweet boy bought me these this week, and my little heart melted. And then I came home and stamped all over my home with them. Butterflies! Hearts! Smiles~

Anyway, a general state of the state, since we haven't had one of those for a while. Montreal is growing on me, but we all figured it would once the snow melted. I've been here long enough to have a social life now, which is both good and bad because there were not one but two work days this week where I showed up in the morning feeling as though I'd been hit by a truck from too much "fun time" the night before. At the end of the week this week though, I realized that I was finally genuinely happy here. So that's good.

I don't think that Adam will win American Idol. I think it will be a shocking elimination and Gokey will take the crown. And also quickly have an endorsement deal with an eyeglass retailer.

I am cheering for the Penguins every day with all my heart. But I may or may not have bought some Habs gear for wearing during game watching with friends here. However, if it came down to a Habs/Pens series, I would be firmly in my Pens sweater. Which, by the way, I wore to the Pens/Habs game at the end of the regular season here...and THREE PEOPLE threw beer at me. I like to think I had the last laugh because those were $14 beers AND my team won, but nonetheless. On the other hand, neither team may make it out of this round, so that clothing may just get nicely packed up soon. And I almost refuse to get excited about the Sharks. They're playoff chokers and we all know it. And also, I have to watch about 75% of all my NHL playoff coverage in French. I know.

I'm headed to Bloomington & Kentucky this week for Rox's wedding, and also to spend time with Catwoman, and while I'm at it to see a few IU friends, and also to buy IU gear, and also to hit up Duty Free on the way back into Canada because getting a bottle of Patron here is like trying to find the holy grail. These people confuse me. Embarrassingly enough, my request of Catwoman was that we go to Applebees or "something equally bad and American where the portions are designed for keeping us fat and the booze is served out of plastic glasses the size of a milk jug." I miss the gluttony of the States some days.

Work is awesomeness. I would like it if it were just slightly less busy in its awesomeness, but I'll take it. I don't have *real* vacation planned until the fall, so it's pretty much a long haul with some breaks for some shorter trips. I come home tired many nights. Some people claim this is because I also go out many nights after work. Draw your own conclusions.

Rooney is good. I still think that I need to get him a little friend, but we just went through the big "spring shed", so I'm not that inspired about increased cat clean up right now. He says "hi." More specifically, he says "bonjour" since cats, I'm told, are partial to French.

Yeah, so, that's about it, I think. You know, generally if you look back at this blog, story telling really starts in the spring anyway. Which is good. Because the truth be told I'm feeling itchy. A little like busting out. A little like it's time to start the party for the year.