Monday's Fictional Hottie 4

Time starts to go by so fast this time of year; as if this is the fourth posting already! So far, I've picked from literature, comics and TV. There are so many fictional hotties to chose from that it's kind of hard to decide who'll be next. I perused my list this morning and my eyes locked on a certain someone who was mighty far down. No matter though, as the thought of this dude made my heart pitter-patter.

I think that all lovers of male hotties appreciate a little intrigue. Not really knowing much about a fictional hottie who's been sent to "save" me from some horrible fate is terribly appealing (and very non-feminist...but I can't help it!). I love when this hottie's ickin' ass and takin' names while also retaining his boy-ish good looks. Some of you may suspect that I'm leaning towards a spy character, and you're not wrong. However, it's not Mr. Bond as I find him to be misogynistic, condescending and seriously irritating. So who's left?

Well, wait no more...

Today's Fictional Hottie is...

Jason Borne!

What up Borne? (brought to the silver screen by the dashing Matt Damon). - link

Unlike most books-to-blockbuster movies, I didn't read any of the novels before watching. Frankly, I'm not sure that I would have dug the books like I do the films and that has a lot to do with the talented Mr. Damon. He manages to present a character who's concerned about innocent bystanders, makes genuine connections with his female leads and still manages to find time to take out the assassins who've been sent to kill him. His understated clothes and chiseled forearms make for a down-to-earth mega-hottie as there's nothing more attractive than a normal-joe-type who can whip out a roundhouse kick, if required. 

Congratulations Jason Borne, you're #4!! (in no particular order)


Dear Idiots:

Just where, exactly, do you think you live? The temperature's been dropping consistently these past few weeks, which is exactly the time to change from your all-season's to your winter's. There are few places where snow doesn't fall in Canada (during the winter), so are you from the south of France or something? Where are you winter tires people?!?

Idiot #1 in a red pickup truck: I grew tired of watching you fishtail and opted to pull off the road to fill up with gas. Lo and behold, 10 minutes later, you skidded in front of me for the second time, almost swerving directly into the opposite ditch. Going a cool 25km under the speed limit, you then decided to venture off to the highway. After maxing out at 70km per hour on the 110km limit highway, you made it impossible for me to pass you because you decided to drive directly in the middle of both lanes. Then, you took so long to turn onto the next street that cars started honking. HONKING!!

Side Story: On the East Side, people are so polite that they'll stop in the middle of the street so pedestrians can cross. They'll let others in from other lanes by virtually stopping before waving them in. Honking because someone's not turning is demonstrative of just how long we were waiting. 

Idiot #2 (or Idiot-ette): I wasn't exactly surprised to see you get into a fender bender as you turned left on an advanced signal, because I could see that you were texting. Here's a tip -- texting + no winter tires = expensive and potentially deadly accident. Get off of the friggin' phone, pay attention and put the winter's on! Call your parents if you don't have enough money girl cause if you hit me, I will totally lose it on you (and trust me, nobody wants that).

Idiots #3 - 7: If you had your winter tires on, you wouldn't have had to abandon your car on the side of the road or ditch. 

Perhaps you're confused because they're "winter" tires and it's not "winter" until December 21st. If they were called "fall and winter" tires, would that be better? It sounds ridiculous, but I'm willing to sign off on the adjustment if it means that you'll purchase them and put them on the first time it gets below 7 degrees, which has been the case for quite some time. Because there seem to be more of you than those who are not-idiots, I'm wary of going anywhere because there's a good chance that one of you will crash into me. Please note that you've been warned about that outcome already (*insert disapproving glare -- can't shake my fist because both hands should be on the wheel while driving in such weather). 

Get it together; nobody likes an idiot. 


I Got Framed!

If you're a crafter, cake decorator enthusiast or scrapbooker then you're aware that Michaels has everything. I can get lost in the aisles, just wandering and looking at the amazing assortment of sparkly stuff I hadn't known existed. Their prices are a little steep, but with the weekly 40% discount ticket (occasionally 50%) it's great. Last week, when the paper arrived, I did my usual and picked it up drove right over it. I try to position my car so I can just scoop it up while still driving. However, my attempts at polo-paper-collection usually end up just flattening it. Marc will come home at the end of the day and since he doesn't suffer from the same condition, grabs the squashed paper and brings it inside.

Don't misunderstand me, we don't actually read the local paper. To be fair, we live in a rural community just outside of a medium-sized city. Not much happens so the weekly newspaper is basically a glorified classifieds section with two tiny articles about farming, or hunting or something else country-esque. Nestled inside the 1-2 page paper though, are the flyers.

I love the flyers!

I love knowing what's on sale and how far I can stretch our weekly grocery budget. I've been doing a pretty good job and every three weeks or so, we're able to take the leftover cash and treat ourselves to a "free" restaurant supper. Yes, I sometimes feel like a total loser when the cashier can't figure out why my 50 cent coupon won't scan and there's a huge lineup behind me, but not enough to let that $.50 slip me by! 

In last week's paper Michaels had a MEGA-coupon unlike any other I'd seen before. So huge, in fact, that I thought my eyes were decieving me. The flyer said that on Wednesday, November 24 from 9am - noon, your entire purchase would be 30% off!! Including sale items!!! As I read the back of the flyer, I found that all of their wall frames would also be on sale.

My heart started to pound.

I'd been scoping out some wall frames there forever. They have a double matting and are just beau-ti-ful. When I'd be in for another reason, I'd stop by to visit the $65 frames and let my fingers play with the corners of the smooth black finish. In my dreams, I have three of these frames above my bed. I didn't know if the frames I loved were included in the sale, but judging by the name of this post, I'm sure you can guess what happened.

I've been holding onto this coupon for almost a week now and was impressed that (a) I didn't lose it and (b) I actually remembered to take it with me this morning. Holding my breath (metaphorically) I made my way into the way-more-crowded-than-usual store and went directly to the 3rd frame aisle. Like I said, I visit them whenever I'm there. Lo and behold, they were 40% off! Plus, I could use my 30% off coupon!!!


Well shutthefrontdoor!! When does that ever happen? It's insane! The larger frames were 60% off, so with the coupon a $100 frame would cost me $10. For reals. My pupils have never been more dilated.

It's also where I sort of lost my mind...

The problem with everything being so discounted is I felt like I needed to get everything. Things I'd never want if they were full price suddenly become must-haves. I blindly threw everything anything I could get my hands on. I wandered around the store for the better part of an hour before taking a good hard look at the contents of my tiny Michaels cart (why are they so small?). 

Starting to feel warm, partially due to my amazing coat and fear that I'd lost complete control, I tucked myself off to the end of an aisle to actually survey what I'd grabbed. Candles, Duff's cake decorating supplies, canvases, paint brushes, Christmas decorations -- it was packed!

Shaking my head while lightly scolding myself for picking up a wall ribbon-organizer, three sets of 2 for 1 candles and a box of individual tissue packets (with holiday themes), I turned around to start putting things back. After I'd emptied my cart from "non-essentials" I somehow found myself back in the frame aisle. I simply adore enlarging personal pictures (no faces though) to decorate our home. Artwork is nice, but I prefer arty photos of places we've been. Well, I've got quite a bit of developing to do because I walked out of the store with 9 new frames, 2 candles and a can of silver cake spray...all for just over $100!! 

How much did I save though?...

Over $150!!

I can't believe that I finally have the frames of my dreams as well as an additional 6 that'll be in a wall in our kitchen. The thrill of the savings and the unexpected satisfaction to my anticipatory longing have made this the best Wednesday ever!!

Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee (*insert dancing circle of glee).


Monday's Fictional Hottie 3

This week, I've switched from fictional characters in print to classic contemporary television. Unless you've been under a rock, you've heard of this hunk. His charm leaps off of the small screen and into your living rooms on Thursday nights. He's such a hottie, in fact, that you don't even have to be a fan of the show to appreciate his tall and lanky good-looks. 

Have you guessed him yet?

This Monday's Fictional Hottie is...

Jim Halbert from The Office (played by John Kransinski).

Hello handsome. (link)

The goofy grin, fantastic sense of humour and persistent pursuit of Pam make him a welcomed addition to the list. Did you see the first kiss with Pam? I still get tingles. Plus, now he's a dad & hottie hubby to Pam. There's nothing hotter than a hottie with a baby. For reals.

His pranks on Dwight are hilarious, especially when Jim convinced him that he was turning into a vampire. Other honorable mention pranks include: mega-desk, office-in-a-bathroom and, of course, the Dwight doppleganger impression.

Congratulations Jim(my), you're #3 (in no particular order)!

As an aside:
It would totally suck to be an actor who gets cast as such a great character. I'm sure that Mr. Krasinski is a brilliant actor (actually "Away We Go" was fantastic) but he'll always be Jim to me. Always. If I were to see him in real life, I would probably gawk for a second and then turn the other way. I wouldn't want to meet John-the-actor...only Jim-the-Dunder-Mifflin-Co-Manager.

It may seem like I'm taking a turn into crazy-town. Rest assured, I have a firm grip on reality. Now if you'll excuse me, I'll be throwing in a DVD episode while I work out (probably the bat one, since now that's all I'm thinking about!). 


Dear Fawnia:

No offense Ms. Mondey (a combo of Monday and Money?), but your DVD's are super low-budget. By "super-low-budget" I actually mean, was there a budget? When I ordered your series on Pole Dancing, I wasn't sure what to expect. Rest assured, you've exceeded my expectations.

You start with a small disclaimer in the beginning of the first DVD about how you didn't get permission to use copyrighted music. I understand that could have made it more expensive to produce, but having no music while learning to dance seems is strange. Stranger still as you acknowledged that music was important and then left a pause so I could put some of my own on. Having music playing from a different source than the TV while focused on the TV is distracting...and confusing, but kinda funny. 

You explain the moves rather well but where the heck was this filmed? There's a pole in the middle of a gross beige carpeted room with shoes on the wall behind you. Are you for reals dancing on carpet in a weirdo-version of your living room? Is it a store? What's going on?! Also - what kind of camera did you use to film? The picture is bruh-tal compared to others. The back of the DVD says it was filmed in 2005 -- more 1992! Even with the small tank top and hotpants, you look dated. The carpet really drives the early 90's-feel home.  

The dubbing of instruction over the demonstration also left a lot to be desired. I could hear the mic clicking in and out. 

Oh Man, Fawnia. Having the moves demonstrated and (slightly) explained has brought a lot of my former-class memories back, so that's good. However, for those who are starting out, I can't help but think that they'd feel a little seedy. 

Admit it. You set up a tripod in your basement, threw some of your costumes on a shelf behind you, edited it on your PC with freeware and then burnt copies for sale. Just how close am I?

Also, I was unaware that Canada had exotic-dancing competitions. Being Canada's premiere "award-winning exotic dancer" is a pretty big deal (isn't it?) and therefore, you should probably make sure that Amazon includes your credentials. People just loooooove credentials. The follow-up questions I have here are fairly endless...(a) Where are these competitions taking place? (b) Who's judging them? (c) What do you win? (d) Do you get letters you get to put after your name like other credentials? 

I've worked through the beginner sections and half of the intermediate. I'm quite looking forward to the "Dance Moves" DVD, but mostly to see how you're going to teach dance steps with no music. My fingers are crossed for a hilarious workout. 

BTW, your advanced DVD moves include fire.  Fire?!

Marc's terrified. I'll be giving our local fire department a head's up before that one. 


Extreme Dog-mas

I love Christmas. 


I may be slightly biased because my birthday is around the same time (it's the one time of year that I get presents...a glorious, glorious three days of anticipatory excitement). It's kind of difficult to live with me for the middle weeks of December, but thankfully Marc's onside with my desire to have "Christmas throw up all over of our house." When we play the when-we-win-the-lottery-game, my mind almost always ends up fantasizing about the silver, blue and purple decorations that would be on every available surface and lit with a zillion twinkle lights (I'm more partial to non-traditional Christmas colours). Oh...and a blow-up Santa that stands in your yard and sporadically pulls down his pants to moon passerby's. Classy. 

On Monday, my love of Christmas decorations was tested. Please keep in mind that I have extremely eclectic decorative tastes. 

I dropped the boys off at the groomer and this is what I saw:

Yes. That is a Christmas tree shaved into the back of a poodle-mix with stuck on bows. There were also purple bows on her front legs.

According to the groomer, she was "doing okay until the bows went on her front legs." I'm not so sure.

As much as I love Christmas and have outfits for Pepi and The Pickle, they wear them for a cummulative 53 seconds before insisting they be removed. This poor pup has no choice but to be a tree. Even with the bows removed, you shaved a tree into her back!!

The tree-dog's Mama seemed happy with the result. I'm still on the fence. 


Monday's Fictional Hottie 2

I've been delighted with the feedback about Monday's Fictional Hotties, so it looks like I'm gonna keep 'er going! Since last Monday, I've been bombarded with ideas. I like to cast a wide net (as do some of my friends) and I'm having a great time. 

This morning, I looked downs my huge list and my eyes locked onto one particular name. I briefly Goggled him to find a picture, which confirmed his spot on the list.

Without further adieu, may I present The second Fictional Hottie...

Reggie Mantle!

Hello Reggie (notice the coordination with the jacket and shoes)  (link)

He was a jock, played bass in a band and had enough cockiness to catch my pre-pubescent attention. His constant desire to undermine Archie and win Veronica's heart was a welcome change from Archie's indecisiveness (poor Betty/like Veronica really cared). Also, Reggie may have been my first encounter with a metro-sexual as he loved combing his hair and sporting nice clothes (current 90's trends that in retrospect were awful, but it's not fair to judge from now...obv). Although sometimes painted as the 'bad guy,' I was always rooting for ole Reg. 

In the early 1990's, there was even a made-for-TV-movie called Archie: To Riverdale and Back Again that I loved.  Seeing the characters in non-cartoon-form was awesome. I can't find a picture of the actor who played the dapper Mr. Bush (bummer) but am sure that he brought the cartoon hunk to life. I've also read that there may be a re-make!! Fingers crossed, people!

So there you go, Mr. Reggie 'I Love Me' Mantle. You're the hottest of all of grocery-store-comic-book characters and #2 on the Fictional Hotties list (in no particular order).

Who's in for a trip to Pop's?


Holey Poley!

Since the summer, I've been working on my fitness. It's been a slow process, but six months later have managed to drop some pounds and keep them off. I remember what it was like to be able to run around without passing out and although I'm not even close to that yet, it's nice fitting into my skinn-ay clothes. It's been challenging to find things I can do to stay somewhat in shape while I wait out my medical bru-ha-ha. Especially since I have to work-out solo (a gym's filled with too many people's sweaty germs -- it's a death trap for me). 

Kijiji's been my best friend in collecting various pieces of equipment and a side of the basement has been gradually filling up with a couple of different boxing bags, a pretty good elliptical machine, some free weights and a T-zone. For those who don't know, a T-zone is that astronauts use to work out in space -- for reals! It's a moving platform that you stand on while doing traditional exercises. In 10 minutes, you've worked out for almost an hour!! I used to pay a membership fee to a place downtown, but they went out of business and got locked out. Their landlord had a fire-sale and I snapped up a (usually seriously expensive) machine. I was a total skeptic but my arms have never been buff-er. 

Despite the coming-together-nicely gym, it's still hella boring down there....until now! 

Back in the day when I lived in Toronto, I took a series of pole-dancing classes. They were the most fun EVER and I've been talking about getting my own pole since. Marc's side business has been doing rather well lately and he ordered me one last week (whatta guy)! On Wednesday, my awesome stainless steel removable pole arrived in the mail. 


We moved our gigantic framed mirror (left from previous owners from the condo -- the greatest leave-behind score of all time) downstairs and centered the pole in front of it. I'm seriously rusty but played around with the moves that I remembered. I sweated up a storm and had the time of my life. This morning though, I can barely move.

For reals.

My arms can't go up past my shoulders. Pickle-the-five-pound-Yorkie feels like he weighs 50. Getting down the stairs was a challenge. My left calf muscle keeps spontaneously cramping. Marc's concerned that people are going to think he's throwing things at me because my knees, shins, thighs and arms are smattered with bruises. Granted, my meds make me bruise like a peach, but I can't believe how many there are after one day! 

Funny as it sounds, I think I've managed to find the one form of exercise that's better to do solo than in a group. Without risking embarrassment, I can fall, flail and give myself some serious face while shaking my proverbial tail-feather. My music preferences are all over the place, so making my own soundtrack is awesome (and I can sing along). I ordered some instructional DVD's and am looking forward to my future buff-ness-by-fun-ness. For those of you who are looking for a super-fun way to stay fit, I highly recommend finding a fitness studio avec les poles. You'll never look back (and the side benefits of learning different hip movements speak for themselves). 

I was looking forward to getting some spins in this morning, but can barely write this post.  Deep stretching may be more realistic. 

No wonder exotic dancers are so skinny.

I need to buy some epson salts. 


Lest We Forget

As most of you can tell by now...I'm funny. Yup, I'm friggin' hilarious. 

However, today is November 11th (Remembrance Day) and there isn't anything funny about that.

My grandfather (Papa) was a WWII veteran and Auschwitz survivor. He never spoke much about it -- who would? The fact that he managed to make it through a place that's sole purpose was to murder innocents is extraordinary. My mother visited the site when she was in Poland a few years ago and said that it was almost impossible to breathe, let alone speak while inside the buildings that had held so many. Buildings filled with rooms of shoes, clothes and hair. Despite the horror that my Papa saw on a day-to-day basis, he somehow managed to go on with his life. After the war, he got a degree in agriculture from Cambridge University and set off to northern Africa to share farming techniques. When my mother came along, he and my grandmother (Maman) moved to Canada, where he went on to have a very successful tree farm (as well as many other business investments).

My Papa but I had a unique opportunity to get to know each other when he moved in with us. I was in  high school and to say that there were conflicts would be an understatement. He was a hard-ass (an original Red Forman) and I was a 16-year-old smart-ass who knew everything. It wasn't exactly a Hallmark generations-become-best-friends time, as I was a fairly selfish brat and he was super anal about things I was careless about. Frankly, I'd always thought he cared more about my cat than he did about me. 

After I left home for university, I was eager to get away and start my own life. Moving 1,500kms away gave me a new perspective and I was able to see my Papa as a person. I was heavily involved in my university Student Union and attended many Remembrance Day events and other veteran-related things (there's a large military base nearby). The more I heard vets from WWII (and other wars, of course) the more empathy I had for my Papa. He survived a hell-on-earth and went on to become a father, grand-father and successful businessman in a foreign country. 

I'd make sure to visit whenever I'd come home to visit and we had a few pretty good talks. He was mildly seriously obsessed with tennis and was a serious whiz on the computer (I kid not -- he was the first person I knew who had a Mac). I'd walk into his room and there'd be tennis playing on his TV with scoreboards of other games in overlapping windows on his blue-backed-Mac. He kept his own winners' trees too. He loved Coffee Crisp chocolate bars and Turtles at Christmas. Despite his double-knee replacement surgery, he'd get on his stationary bike every morning to exercise. He wrote complaint letters about everything and instilled my love for comped items that arrived by mail. He also put away enough money so my brother and I could attend any university of our choice. Our relationship improved dramatically in his last few years and I'm grateful for it as he passed away while I was still in undergrad. 

I finished my first degree and went onto a Masters and finally to college for practical counseling training. It was in college that my view on my Papa shifted again. Post-traumatic stress wasn't acknlowledged back then and I'm fairly certain he didn't privately participate in counseling. I was in therapy forever as a teen and that was for random-teen-crap. I can't imagine how my Papa would have been able to move past seeing the atrocious things he was witness to so obviously his lens of the world invariably changed. It started to make sense to me why he was so hard on me. He'd lived through an awful time but had moved on with hard work and determination. Watching me yak on the phone while spending hours painting my nails must have looked like a frivolous waste of time when I could have been studying or doing something productive. 

I know now that he was proud of me and each year I seem to gain more insight to the man he was when he wasn't "my Papa." Although I have a long life yet, I'm psyched that I'll get to hang out with him again, eating fried rice and watching Wimbledon from the best seats in the house. Hey, since it's Heaven, we'll probably get to play a game or two ourselves. 

Love you Papa. 

Today, I remember. 


Dough! I Made Pizza.

It's been just over two weeks since I've been on my 'make your own food' kick and I'm still goin' strong. I've never done so many dishes in my life, but the food's been turning out nicely. This weekend, Marc had a hankering for pizza, so I whipped out my 500 Recipes for Pizza & Flatbread cookbook (where the calzones came from) to see how hard it was to make regular pizza dough. There were a zillion choices (okay, more like seven). I decided on making 'pan pizza dough' because that's what Pizza Hut uses and their pizza is dee-lish!

Decision made, I started on the actual making of the dough.

This mixer really does make things easier (thanks babe!)
It wasn't too hard, but I didn't have instant yeast so I used traditional and the additional rising made the whole process a little more intense than it had to be.

A little lumpy, but it rose (ever so slowly)
After the punch-down (the fun-nest part of making anything bread-ish), I attempted to stretch out the dough by hand but I sucked at it. The rolling pin made things much easier. 

My crusts weren't consistent. I have a newfound respect for cooks at The Hut. 

Adding the sauce, toppings and cheese, they were off to the oven to bake for a mere 10 minutes! When I took them out, the smells were drool-worthy. I'd thought that we'd have leftovers, considering I made two...but that didn't happen.

You can't even tell the crusts were suckily-constructed!
All-in-all, they were really good but didn't taste anything like The Hut. If I make pan dough again, I'll wait until I can buy some instant yeast so it doesn't need to rise for an hour...followed by an additional 45 minutes. 

For reals. It was an epic rise-fest. 

ps. I've been changing the design of my blog for a while now, but I think this one'll stick for a while. You likey? 


Monday's Fictional Hottie 1

I've been reading a lot of blogs with weekly themed postings and have been eager to join the club. Obviously, Mondays are the worst of all the days, so my first thought was, 'Jennie! Do something awesome on Mondays!'

That settled, I batted ideas around in my big sexy brain for what my Monday posts would be about. Finally, in the wee hours of Sunday morning -- an epiphany!

Without further adieu, may I present the first of (potentially many) Monday's Fictional Hotties!

Yes, you read it right. I'm talking about fictional tall drinks of water. I may draw from literature, film, television shows or wherever else made-up hotties exist. There's an awful lot to choose from, so this theme may be able to go on forever. Awesome.

'Who'll be the first hottie on my list?' was the next question. I've had crushes on more than a few literary characters throughout the years and my mind was swirling with the possibilities. Obviously, the best place to start is at the beginning; with a character that has resonated with me for a l-o-n-g time.

I may be cutting my feet of before I start with this one but if you love you some good ole Canadian lit then you'll surely be aware of one of my first fictional crushes...and the first official Fictional Hottie...

Dr. Gilbert Blythe!

(*insert round of applause*)

For those who are unfamiliar with Dr. Blythe, he's the jelly to Anne Shirley's peanut butter (aka, Anne of Green Gables). When Anne broke her tablet over Gil's head (after he called her the dreaded "carrots") he was forever her puppy dog. I fell in love with him first in the books and then later in the movies...

A younger (and smoldering) Dr. Blythe (link)

Jonathan Crombie (actor) really brought Gil to the next level, especially in the last two films where Anne goes to Europe to bring him back safe from the war (*swoon). As crazy as Anne acted most of the time, she was a fiercely independent woman and Gilbert couldn't get enough. How could I not fall in love?

Congratulations Dr. Gilbert Blythe. You're #1!! (in no particular order)

As an aside:
If you haven't read Lucy Maud Montgomery's series, get to a library and start reading. It may seem like country-ass-silliness but you'll be hooked before you know it. Then, go rent the movies (all six if you can find them). Megan Follows is the most perfect Anne Shirley of all time. She's a million times better than Brigit Jones --  a real ginger for crying out loud!!

As another aside:
When I was 20 I drove to PEI with a girlfriend to see some people and visit what I thought was the set from the Anne movies. We got there and it looked totally unfamiliar. Turns out, the PEI attraction was where Ms. Montgomery wrote the novels. The movie had been filmed in Hamilton, ON (a mere 1.5 hours from where I grew up). 
To say I was crushed would be an understatement.


Dear Danielle:

You are batshit-shutthefrontdoor-crah-ZAY!

I have just finished watching an episode of "The Real Housewives of New Jersey" and you are a total nutter.

Total. Nutter.

Do you think that anchors on the 6 O'clock news are also out to get you? Do they say things directly to you that nobody else can hear? Is your house tin-foiled on the inside?

Stop the madness!

Here's a tip: If you want to look like you're on the phone then actually be on the phone. Also, if you're going to fake being on the phone - don't tell the person beside you first. It's embarrassing.


For reals. Please get the tapes and watch them...straight...all of them. I feel that you'd need to see them all in a row so you can see the impact of your paranoia. That's the real issue for you, by the way -- PARANOIA!!

Nobody's out to get you; it's all in your head, girl!

Be happy!
Be polite!
Take your meds! (I kid, I kid).

Just relax a little already. You've gotten yourself all wound up and have nowhere to go but complete and utter insanity. You're walking on the edge of that abyss right now, so you really need to take a breath, hug your kids and read "Don't Sweat the Small Stuff."

Unless of course, your plan was to be a little famewhore and you're loving all of the attention. If that's the case, you may still want to dial it back slightly because nobody likes the meanie-pants.

Just sayin.'


Extra, Extra!

It was the grossest day ever here. The wind won't stop beating against the side of the house. I went to get the flu & pneumonia shot today and got bitch-slapped by a sheet of rain. My usually-reliable LuLu rain coat failed to protect me. After the shots (ouch) and grocery shopping (hello festive PC products!) I was warm and dry in my living room. I searched for something brain-numbing to watch and came across 'The Matthew Shepard Story.' For those who don't know, Matthew Shepard was gay man murdered by two homophobic a-holes.

But this post is not about that.

Stay with me.

The summer after my first year of university, I went home to work and party with my friends save money. After a few failed attempts at waitressing (it's really not my bag) a friend of my mother's suggested that I become an 'extra' in movies and TV shows. Within a few days, I'd met with my agent, had my measurements and photos taken and booked my first 'gig.' It was one of the sweetest summers ever. 

Living in/near Toronto had its perks because working as an extra meant there was always tonnes of work! By 'work' what I really mean is 'show up and get paid for sitting under a tree for 7 hours.' For reals. It was amazing.

My primary gig that summer was for a Canadian diddy called "Relic Hunter," starring Tia Carrere (the hot singer from Wayne's World). A typical day would start around 8:00 A.M. with hair, makeup and wardrobe. There would be craft service with teas, coffee and breakfast snacks. Then, we'd pile into a waiting room where the Assistant Directors would choose who would go to set and where they'd be. This is where I'd try to be as inconspicuous as possible because if I didn't get chosen then I got to hang out, play cards, snack and chat in the waiting room. The best part was I'd still get paid!! As long as I showed up to set, I got paid for a minimum of 8-hours (go union!). There were times that we'd get wrapped early and we'd still get the 8-hour minimum! Every set had eager-beavers who thought their ticket to stardom would come from extra-work (it doesn't, btw), so I'd throw myself on the opposite room of them. That was a summer of days lounging outside in the sunlight and meeting fellow non-thespians-but-need-the-cash-ers. 

(Here's where I circle back)
Although I was a regular on Relic Hunter, I was never near a camera. Over four months, I only had two movies where I was a 'featured extra' (sort of an oxymoron, but whatever). One of those movies was the made-for-TV-special The Matthew Shepard Story. Nothing is stranger than seeing a teenage you... on a TV... in your own living room. There are three times in the flick where my face is fairly front-and-centre. Each time, I look half-bored and annoyed (I was playing a high school student...) but it's still pretty cool.

The best part about that shoot though was the hair-guy on set. He was seriously flamboyant and totally hilarious. He was the regular hair-guy and I was there a lot, so we'd get to chatting about things as he'd give me the doo-o-tha-day. One day, we must have gotten our wires crossed or something because from then on he thought I was a lesbian. I didn't care enough to correct him and I got crazy awesome hair styles after that. In the scene where my face is right behind Stockard Channing's, I have the best hair ever! It's twirly and spiky and I'd forgotten how fly it was! My hair's too short now to wear it like that, but seeing it brought a huge smile to my face.

Aw...that was such a great summer...

ps. I also met William Shatner when he cut in front of me in the lunch line on the set of American Psycho II. He's quite short but nice, so I let it slide. 


Timmie's Troubleshooting

The most random thing just happened to me. I was sitting at my computer, writing, when my phone rang. It was an Ontario area-code but I didn't know the number. I picked it up.

A woman asked to speak with me. I sighed, assuming she was one of the countless telemarketers who call me. Hearing my flat tone as I confirmed my name, she introduced herself. She was a Customer Care representative from Tim Hortons, who was calling to address my recent email.

Flash back to last week:
Marc and I were out running some errands when we stopped at a Timmies for a cup of coffee. Now, I don't drink coffee, or icky Orange Pekoe tea so I never go. When Marc needs a fix though, I'll occasionally throw in a request to the drive-through-order-taker. Sometimes it's a Banana Nut muffin, but those are the rarest of all Tim Hortons muffins and therefore difficult to find. More often, I settle on Tim Bits or a Vanilla Dip Donut.

Enter my issue:
In this particular coffee stop, I opted for the Vanilla Dip Donut. We ordered, paid and collected our items. I opened up the small paper bag and saw the saddest excuse for a Vanilla Dip Donut, ever. Sure, the top part was coated in frosting, but a meagre 1/3 had sprinkles.

It wasn't even half!

A third
30% Sprinkles?! 

To say I was disappointed would be an understatement. The reason the Vanilla Dip is awesome is because of the sprinkles! The fewer the sprinkles, the less-yummy the donut.

Fiona (my AyePhone) has access to the internet, so I fired off an email to their corporate office. I was polite and simply asked if there was any protocol for the sprinkle application of Vanilla Dip donuts.

Back to today:
My jaw nearly dropped to the floor as the lovely Customer Care Rep explained that the Vanilla Dip donut is the only thing that isn't standardized in the chain. Each store is responsible for the amount of sprinkles they choose to throw on the top of the donut. She suggested that I contact the store I frequent the most and explain my full-sprinkle preference. She also said that most chains would make me one, on the spot. 

A couture donut? 
Mais oui!

She thanked me for my email and asked me if she'd answered my question. She did.

I never would have suspected that the corporate office of a franchise would deliver this type of service. If only every place did! A phone call to clarify a 4-line email? Ah-maz-ing.

Well played Timmies. 


She's in a Land Down Undaah

My dear Rapunzel-Haired Friend has officially left the country and became part of the future when she arrived in Australia yesterday. Although we've lived in different cities for the last year or so, she's a lot farther away now and Skyping with the time differences is a bit of a logisitcal nightmare. I miss her a lot and am very excited to hear all about her adventures down undaah. 

Curious to what she could get up to, I started trolling online sites about fun facts and things to do. I must admit, I didn't know much about the country except that a lady claimed a dingo ate her baby once and that it used to be Britain's dumping ground for convicted offenders. Turns out, the place is pretty rockin.'

  • The first European settlers in Australia drank more alcohol per person than any other community in the history of mankind. (link)
  • In 1954 Bob Hawke made it into the Guinness Record Book: he sculled 2.5 pints of beer in 11 seconds and then became the Prime Minister. (link)
  • The naked eye can detect over 5,500 stars in the Outback under ideal viewing conditions. (link)
  • Tea made over a camp fire in a tin can is called, 'Billy Tea.' (link)
  • There are 1,500 species of Australian spiders - yikes. (link)

There are a lot more 'Aussie' words that I've found and the majority are amazing. I just love fun words and phrases. Here are some more and what they mean.
  • 'See you in soup' - See you around (seriously old school)* (link)
  • 'Fairy Floss' - Cotton candy* (link)
  • 'Lolly Water' - carbonated girly drinks* (link)
  • 'Give it a Burl' - Try it (seriously old-school)* (link)

Aside from the scary spider population (terrifying, really...*shudder) I think that RHF will settle in just fine...and has a 50% - 70% chance of getting elected as the new Prime Minister. Oh what a world that would be!

Have a pint for me, lady-face! Miss ya!!

*Shout out to Katie for correcting my clearly awful researching job ;).


Less Sex is Better

I was devastated when I had to tap out of seeing the premiere of Sex and the City 2. It finally came out on DVD and I watched it this weekend.

Whomp, Whomp. 

It seemed like the chemistry had left the building, as the four heroines had a difficult time engaging with each other in a real way. When they finally got to Abu Dhabi, it got a little better but not much. I was most looking forward to seeing Aiden, but he appeared like a desert mirage and I'm still not sure if I actually saw him or not. 

Predictable plot lines.
Bad dialogue.
Poopy-poopiness (a technical movie term).

Thank Jebus for Samantha.

Without her hot flashes and getting arrested, I'm not sure I'd have kept watching. She was friggin' hysterical and the only part of the movie that somewhat reflected the TV series. I don't think that I'd ever been more irritated with Carrie.

The clothes were fabulous, at least, but there could have been so much more than there was. 

Dear SATC: It's time to retire.