Bored Games?? (or reason # 10012 why the future is looking grim)

At first, I assumed the game 'Settler of Catan' involved Chris Kattan, former SNL cast member and star of the underrated "Corky Romano." (Remember when the dog accidentally ingests cocaine? Funny.) I was immediately convinced the game would suck, because the cover of the box is a little, well, lame-oh. And my "slowing turning into pizza dough because I don't need to remember anything due to the internet" brain needs flash, and pizazz, and... wait, gotta go check my email... anyways, look for yourself:


Apparently, the game has won some awards. With further investigation, I discovered that 'Settlers' won the prestigious Spiel des Jahres (German Game of the Year) award in 1995. Who knew? It really is an interesting game - involving strategy, memory, and all those other things that your brain is definitely not getting enough of whilst sitting in front of a computer screen all day.

I do believe that board games can be part of, and can attribute to a healthy lifestyle. Apart from the social aspects, think about the last time you actually tapped into the part of your brain dealing with memory, information processing, motor functioning, and emotional control, ALL AT THE SAME TIME. I'll tell you when - you were probably 8 years old, getting last place at a science fair for a project called "The Aerodynamics of K-cars." I can't disagree with the fact that humans are getting lazier, dumber, and fatter, as a direct result of our increasing technological savvyness. Grrrrr. Yet another reason why the future sucks.

My eyes almost fell out today....

I accidentally went to the Eaton Centre last week. I shouldn't have done it, but I needed to at least SEE if the Apple Store would help me clean up the exterior of my laptop (it was white, now it's grey. I get sympathy stares on the subway and I'm pretty sure it's because my macbook appears to have been through a fire).

They were too busy to help me, or rather, I noticed the 'back-to-school' shitshow in the back of the store and RAN OUT OF THERE. I decided instead to buy some thick, black, liquid eyeliner to make me feel better.

After painstakingly examining products and prices for about 45 minutes, I decided on a relatively cheaper eyeliner than what I was used to wearing. Looking back, I think I looked for a cheaper brand to diffuse my guilt. My grandma would be so proud! Look at me, being frugal and actually comparing prices. (The last time I did this was when I found out that good ice cream costs like $8 a tub nowadays, not $2, like I expected).

This particular brand of eyeliner is called Urban Decay. While they do not test on animals, there were some pretty disturbing things going on inside the package.

I have to regrettably admit now that I did not read the list of ingredients until I was safely on the subway, and after throwing my receipt into a recycling bin...


Some of the more choice items are: shellac, methylparaben, propylparaben, and my favourite, CHROMIUM OXIDES.

I have officially failed as a responsible consumer! I know those chemicals up there are all linked with reproductive toxicity, cancer, and allergies, yet I still bought the effing eyeliner. I put my trust in this relatively unknown company to NOT sell me a product linked with unhappiness and death. Stupid me!

The next time I attempt to quench my overall malaise with unnecessary cosmetics, I will definitely go here first:

fun website that evaluates how bad your make-up is for you

And if you really feel like dwelling in the bile of consumer guilt:

this movie is really good, but short cause she talks so fast

Have a great day!!

Last night I had a dream that a good friend had successfully convinced me to join an indoor soccer league. I was initially quite skeptical, because I don't play soccer, and it was the middle of summer - why indoors, then?? I don't know. Instead of playing soccer, we were actually playing American football. We were throwing, punting, catching, instead of all the usual soccer-y stuff (like fake-chasing the ball, which I was looking forward to). Instead of using a regular football, we played with a bag of Cool Ranch flavored Doritos. I was really concerned, not so much that the bag would break, but that the delicious pieces inside would be embarrassingly too tiny to eat in front of my team once the game concluded. I like a large, stable chip for a more dainty ingestion.

As I looked down the gymnasium's field, with a disgruntled look in order to feign concern, a member of my team looked me in the eye and mouthed "go long." I recognized him right away as Mark Wahlberg:



He threw the bag of Cool Ranch Doritos; I caught it, and jumped into a purple hula-hoop with some guidance from my team. I woke up WHILE making this awesome leap, barely preventing my feet from going through a full-length mirror.

The message in this dream? Don't trust a Wahlberg! Any of them... even if they're holding goods you might want to eat someday...

I found this on my desk this morning. I think maybe it's a sign I should clean up a bit, considering at least 10 years have passed since Leo has resembled a Russian supermodel.

Before I moved away to attend University, I cut out pretty much every picture that I could find of both Leonardo DiCaprio and Ewan McGregor. It's so weird, imagining myself sitting on the floor of my gothy teenaged bedroom, listening to Nine Inch Nails, and cutting out photos of pretty boys with the sole intention of putting them up on display in my residence room. Or in the case of Leo, my front door. Some asshole down the hall performed a drunken stumbly thing outside the door one night and ripped off the upper left hand corner, forever ruining Leo's perfect 90's silhouette.

I am often embarrassed when I think of the magazine photos that were unleashed on the walls of my room while living in residence. I was desperately trying, quite unsuccessfully, to prove my coolness amidst a sea of other people who were all trying to do the same thing. I was such a super loser, in the literal sense of the word. I was lost. Someone actually asked me why I had photos of Leonardo on my wall, in a very questionable tone. I replied that he had been in countless quality films. He was like, which ones? And I was all, you know, like, "what's eating Johnny Depp?" Unfortunately, fact checking before the aggressive spread of high-speed internet access was a bitch. We were all victims of our own hippocampi, and my brain wasn't exactly in pristine condition at the end of high school.

After looking at this Details cover, I have no stinking idea how I could have possibly found Leonardo hot. For godsakes, the word "nard" is in the middle of his name. At the time, he wasn't even shaving his face. He sported a male-bob (or "mob") which every girl in their 30's can now add to her hair resume. The only respectable thing I had seen him in was Growing Pains, and I only watched that show to satisfy my secret actual crush on Alan Thicke.

The Ewan McGregor fascination still remains obvious to me now. It all boils down to Trainspotting. At the time, I thought it was the coolest movie ever made: this was probably because I had no connection with about 95% of what was happening on screen. I had not experienced ecstasy-fueled underage sex, nor had I experienced extremely realistic toilet hallucinations after undergoing heroin withdrawal. Nope. Ewan McGregor was so fucking cool in 1996, with his shaved head and tight pants and accent, that he rightly deserved a spot on my wall. No regrets there.

Do young people still do this? I haven't seen the inside of a high school student's locker in at least 4 years... it seems like now, teenagers who sit on the "edgy" side, and need to obsess over someone other than typical choices such as Zac Efron, probably do it to the tune of a little Kevin Bacon, Ricky Martin, Judd Nelson, Jon Cryer, etc. just to catch a few confused and repulsive glances from their peers. Somewhere in this country, there is probably even a young girl with the handsome, burly face of Alan Thicke looking back at her when she opens her locker every morning. And you know what she says before opening that wonderful locker? Show me that smile again. Just show me that smile.

Oh Tyra, you so crazy. It just never stops. Her compulsive need to just BE HERSELF makes me slightly jealous, I'll admit. By the age of 24, I carefully learned that some behaviour, albeit fun, needs to either stop or evolve into something more appropriate. Things like, taking off your pants in public or wearing hawaiian shirts. See, Tyra still merrily takes her pants off, and then suggests that young girls do the same. It goes beyond just BEING YOURSELF. There's being yourself, which for me involves short periods of time where I stop myself from saying sorry when strangers bump into me. Or by politely informing telemarketers that no, Jennifer Phillips isn't home right now, but I would be more than happy to pass along the special information on a new long distance service in her area. Tyra's need to 'be herself' has elicited many strange things in the past 10 cycles of America's Next Top Model. After repeated, unabashed critiques (see photo above), these young girls often scream hysterically in Tyra's presence, especially when she gestures emphatically towards her cleavage and refers to them as "her babies." Tyra has turned me into a believer that Stockholm Syndrome is in fact possible on a larger scale. Her behaviour is more akin to vomiting into a jar a few times in a row, and then serving that drink to your friends, and ignoring them when they tell you it's horrible and they want to go home, and then opening up vomit stands in select locations where your friends just might happen to walk by. That's what Tyra does to me every Wednesday night.

I make a mean burrito... thought I'd turn it into a side business for some extra cash:

Estelle Getty is dead. And I'm pretty sad about it. Like, I saw the video on YouTube of the guy crying, and instead of reacting in a rational 'what the fuck is this loser all about' way, I started crying too.

Being somewhat of a GG fan, I recently completed the Rue McClanahan autobio, My First Five Husbands... and the ones who got away, and without a hint of irony, I loved it. Apparently Estelle Getty suffered from Lewy Body dementia while working on the show, and had to have cue cards.

The cue card situation forced writers to develop longer monologues for Sophia, so she could have adequate screen time, thus developing her character into this story-telling wizard. Man, that lady could tell the S off any story. She was fantastic.

Needless to say, the show was edited just so, and you can't really (*really*) notice the cue card reading...

The wonderful thing about Estelle Getty is the fact that she became famous while struggling through the early stages of this horrible condition. She was already suffering, and her work was also suffering. Instead of simply being replaced or reduced to a minor character, the writers chose to accommodate her, thus leaving us with a legacy of anecdotes that, no matter what, will always be funny. Always. Let's not only mourn her passing, but the passing of this somewhat 'golden' age of television sitcom writing.

I believe it is now time for some cheesecake.

HATCHER CROTCH MAY CURE EMPHYSEMA, OTHER AILMENTS

Scientists have recently discovered a possible link between the rate of recovery in emphysema patients with viewing frequency of the popular 1989 movie "Tango and Cash." The specific scene in the study, where Terri Hatcher picks up a set of drumsticks and plays the electronic drums while wearing an extremely high-waisted bodysuit thong, has proven to have a beneficial effect for a variety of ailments. Everything from acne to zolarisis has shown some degree of improvement with regular viewing.

In this preliminary stage of research, scientists are unable to pinpoint the exact correlation between spandex and lung disease, however, an explanation will be forthcoming. Many outside the scientific community believe there to be a religious connotation with Ms. Hatcher's big hair and thriving pelvis; however, others in the Church are skeptical.

I'M CRAZY FOR LESBIANS

What exactly is Light Pollution?

I recently went to Seaworld. The awesome-ness of it stemmed from the fact that it's owned by Amheiser-Busch, meaning they have a brewery right on the grounds. And brewery means beer tour, which means 'tasting-area', which means unlimited free beer. We all know that nothing makes a day more perfect than hot, sunny weather, looking at whales, and drinking free, tasty, beer. Not only was I afforded free, tasty beer, but the luxury of walking around the park, beer in hand. I don't understand liquour laws at all. I mean, the US seems so much more conservative in other ways (older drinking age, for one), but then there are mysterious and uncommon exceptions, like the fact that you can drink alcohol ANYWHERE at Seaworld.

Okay, on to the whale & dolphin show. This is the big show of the day. It takes place in a huge outdoor auditorium, not unlike the one found in Marineland. I haven't been to Marineland in years, so I was immediately shocked by the 'modernness' of the whole set-up. They had giant, mobile LCD screens, and a soundsystem that would knock the socks off anyone with ears.

When the show started, we were immediately welcomed with an all-American salute to the troops in Afghanistan. Those involved with the Armed Forces were welcome to stand up, and be applauded for approximately 7 minutes. We then had a quick 20-minute moment of silence. I was, of course, the only one laughing. I can't even hold it in for Nov. 11th, and I actually understand the importance of Remembrance Day. This was difficult. It's the typical I know I'm not supposed to laugh so it's exceptionally hard not to laugh thing.

The show wasn't just about killer whales jumping out and spinning and kissing people above the water. It had a story, (thanks to the 20 foot LCD screens) and here's how that story goes:

A black-and-white video begins of a young boy paddling a kayak out to sea. He sees a killer whale and immediately, exhibits a look of calm, but perplexed interest. He knows what he is destined to do.

Cue inspirational music. I thing the lyrics were, "Open your heart. Shine like a sundance. Open your mind. Shine like the sun!!!"

Have a look:




The story continued:
The young boy paddles back to land. He immediately carves a small whale-tail out of wood. He attaches the tail to a string and wears it around his neck.

The main human in the show was a burly dude with a beard and a wetsuit painted like a killer whale. I will call him Hank. He brought a young boy from the audience up to the microphone. Hank asked what the boy's name was, and where he was from, and then he asked him if he had a dream.

The boy said his name (can't remember it), that he was from Alberta (I cheered WAY too loudly and then commented "it's basically AMERICA"). And then he said he wanted to be an actor.

Burly Hank gently placed a wooden whale-tail necklace around the boy's neck, and upon the giant LCD screen lay a group shot of all the characters in our tale:







In case you missed the entire point, it's that DREAMS CAN COME TRUE.


After the laying-down-of-the-dream, our hero Hank did a short dance routine with his best friend, Shamu. I'll let you see for yourself:





And that, my friends, is the definition of light pollution.

What is going on in these pictures? It looks like a little flirtatious skating to me... flaking, skirting, slirking, skate-f&cking, etc.

As a former (amateur) figure skater who quit before the age of 14, I had nightmares of this actually happening to me. My opinions of romance, with boys, were generally negative at the time. I'm not reticent to describe my thoughts on the opposite sex as "totally gross" until at least the age of 15.

There is something really vast and bare about an on-ice courting session. A skating rink is a public place. Your mom or older brother or science teacher could walk in at any time. There is no place to hide. And if you fall, you basically have to kill yourself before school on Monday.

Now the closest I have ever come to what Brandon Walsh is doing up there was the short period of time in which I took "skate-dance" lessons. For those not familiar with a skater's lexicon, this is basically ice dancing. My parents had to actually pay extra for these lessons, since there were so few male partners. (And yes, there was a rule somewhere that prohibited same-sex couples from skate-dancing.)

If someone had a gun pointed at my head and I HAD to list the pros and cons of skate-dancing, I would probably get all flustered and mix things up, and eventually die, so let's straighten out that list right now:

PROS:
- low level of difficulty
- usually, one never falls down
- no silly, humiliating jumps or spins
- Torville & Dean made it cool for 5 minutes
- upon exiting the sport, you can go on tours such as "Skate with the Smurfs!" or "Superstars on Ice!" (yes, this has mysteriously become an acceptable line of work)

CONS:
- it's not roller skating. There is no roll-bounce.
- it will never be cool (see above)
- you COULD fall, under the right circumstances
- pre-2004 (approximately), there were no words in figure skating music. This means skate-dance music consisted of songs with titles such as The 14-Step, The Swing, The Waltz (?), The Cold Tango and many more
- you had to touch a boy for extended periods of time
- you have to pay to touch a boy for extended periods of time
- silly and humiliating choreography (or 'pizazz periods' as some coaches liked to refer to them as)

"Hey guys. Remember me? Star of popular movies such as Demolition University, Busted, Fever Lake, and Without Malice? What? You don't remember these? It's probably because I filed for bankruptcy in 1997, so these titles were "STD"! [straight to DVD] I don't actually have an STD. hah-hah! Wouldn't that be funny. May as well have one; my life sucks. Hey wait, did you see my poster? I am going to rip the entertainment industry a new one. Literally, a 'new' one. Did you see Lucas? That was cool. Holy cow, Charlie Sheen is cool. And Winona Ryder. So cool. It was pretty cool that I got to work with them at such a young age. Winona gave me my first joint, then Charlie worked me up to bumps of coke, then well, you know what happened after that! By the way drugs aren't cool I had a stroke. So will you hire me? HAVE YOU EVEN HEARD OF LOST BOYS PART II?"

Exposing the truth of Beverly Hills, 90210:

For the second season of 90210, the kids were supposed to be in grade 11, about 16-17 years old. Here's the "real" story:

Brandon was 22, Steve was 27, and Dylan was 26. Andrea was 30. The other kids were actually more close to being teenagers: Donna was 18; Kelly and David were both 19.

Was there a shortage of actual teenage actors in 1991? I remember thinking, before I knew their real ages, that once I turned 16 I would immediately have giant wrinkles across my forehead (a la Mr. Perry), and have completely scary laugh lines (thank you Mr. Priestly). My perception of aging was so afoul that I actually figured the Golden Girls were in their early 40's.

Okay, now I must immediately "expose the truth of the Golden Girls."

I am going to squelch some major misconceptions here, so don't be alarmed, and don't give me any of this:


In 1985, when the Golden Girls first premiered, Rue McClanahan was a tasty 51 years young. Estelle Getty was 62, and Betty White and Bea Arthur were both a delicious 63 years old.

Diamonds are Forever


Ewww. I just returned from 12 days in Yellowknife, a place where generally, there are no crowds, and you aren't forced to slalom through 25 senior citizens just to cross the street. I am having trouble re-adjusting to the simple task of walking in Toronto. It is gross. I have a foot injury, so while I may appear dexterous, it is actually quite difficult for me to move out of the way of speeding wheelchairs.

This morning I was in a pissy, hungry mood so I took a stroll to the grocery store down the street. Upon entering, I immediately became even angrier over having to actually make a decision in that irritable state. I have since diagnosed myself with "IBS", or Irritable Brain Syndrome. I decided that, instead of carefully choosing food items with which to plan a nutritious meal, I would grab my top 3 favourite food items: Green Energy Smoothie Drink, Crispy Mini's - sour cream 'n chive flavoured, and turkey bacon. I was happy, for a moment, until I reached the checkout counter.

There are 3 cash registers in the local grocery store. Today there were only 2 cashiers. There were 10 people ahead of me in line. In fact, the line up was so long I was actually still standing in the deli section, where I found my turkey bacon.

Still in the pissiest mood ever, I decided to eavesdrop. The woman ahead of me was talking to the man in front of her. Or rather, he was talking AT her, in the most wonderful Dutch accent. He was babbling about "old life" when there were no cars, or something like that. I wasn't really listening at this point.

Finally, a third cashier came out, and the line began moving. Goldmember and I reached our cashiers at the same time. He asked, "How are you doing today?" She replied, "Okay." He said, "Why are you not doing wonderful?"

She replied, without a hint of sarcasm or irony, "I would be wonderful if a stream of tiny diamonds were flowing over my body."

He replied, "Well, now we all have something to dream about."

Now, I don't have a problem with "positive people" per se, but I do have a problem with happy diamond lady. She is one of those people who says, "Have a beautiful day!" She says it really slowly while handing back your change, while looking you in the eye, to let you know she really means it. Okay, it might be wonderful to maybe OWN a diamond, so that you could wear it or just look at it once in awhile. But a DIAMOND SHOWER? I don't understand. I think I need to investigate Diamond Lady. I am going to start a mini-conversation the next time I am in there, and attempt to extract as much cheesy, uber-positive rhetoric as is humanly possible in a 5 minute visit.

I may need disguises for this one....

I am going to Vegas in 1.5 days. This is very exciting. I get to actually go somewhere with my 3 hot girlfriends, who are all equally lovely on their insides as well.

We are going to see "Zumanity", the "sensual side of Cirque du Soleil". I hope I am not embarrassed if there are gyrations or nudity, because at this point, I am uncomfortable just thinking about it. I don't think I could see the show with my boyfriend, or any member of my family. Even writing the words "member" and "family" in the same sentence makes me uncomfortable. I suppose all that will be worked out soon in therapy.

But I am excited to see dancing and ropes and all the cirquey stuff... it is really quite amazing, when you think about it. Imagine being a dancer in one of these Cirque performances... "No, I can't go out tonight. I have to go to dance practice now. I am going to be suspended on a 100 foot rope by my right foot, and then dropped into a giant wooden wheel where I will run like a hamster into a pool of orange sparkly water." See, no boring "work convos" when you are a Cirque performer. None.

Right now, I have the movie "Pulse" playing in the background. The main character is played by one of my favorite 20-something actresses, Kristen Bell.

I am afraid I have disappointing news: It is SO bad, that I have stopped turning around to view the TV screen. In fact, I am actually afraid to walk near it. There is a small possibility that I will be forced into a twilight-zone-type entertainment vortex where every time I sit down in a movie theatre, expecting to see the latest Eddie Murphy character, I see Kristen Bell in "Pulse." And it just happens, over and over. And then I ponder suicide, since death appears much more palatable than an eternity of viewing Kristen Bell in crappy dark eyeliner and greasy skin.

Hello;

The Flight of the Conchords

I love them!


here

Michael Kuss looks like a freaky hockey coach. A freaky hockey coach for a pee-wee aged girls team. Seriously, who needs to be that excited about the weather? I am confused every time I see him.

So I am addicted to America's Next Top Model cycle 8. I love how they call them cycles -- ironic, isn't it? A cycle is a continuous loop, with waste products (old ugly models) and nutrients coming in (new young blood). There is no career or longevity involved here. They promise a photoshoot with Seventeen magazine - a photoshoot that noone will see and that everyone has already forgotten about 10 minutes ago.

Update -- Jaslene won ANTM cycle 8. My favourite girl, Natasha the Russian girl, lost. I think they used a neck-shortener on her during the final moments of the show. I will look into it.

My Day that Sucked

by Ben

I am off this week for March break. Decided to do a few errands, a few of which required going to Staples, which required driving. I don't know about you, but I have safely been driving in Toronto for the past 4.5 years, without incident. Today was, without question, the worst driving day I've ever experienced.

I was nearly sideswiped by an old man who turned left, without looking. He just blindly drove into oncoming traffic. I had to slam on the brakes, and my purse flew against the windshield, spewing my incidentals everywhere.

I wonder what he was thinking, as he pulled in front of my car. "I'm just gonna go. Carl's gotta turn left. Carl's gotta go! Death don't mean shit to Carl! I'll die if I have to! Die!"

Or maybe he just took a huge shit in his Depends, so his judgement was off.

The rest of my journey provided me with multiple examples of driving school 'don'ts'. Did ANYONE watch 'license to drive'? If Corey Haim can pretend to drive safely, all fucked up on drugs, then why can't the average person in Toronto actually drive without incident? Okay, that argument was weak. But when YOU fall asleep at the wheel and sit there when the precious left hand arrow appears, don't give ME the finger for your failure.

I then went to the video store. I rented something, everything was fine, until the see you en tee behind the counter decided to re-charge me the late balance on my account that I had paid on Tuesday. I looked her in the eye and said "I came in Tuesday, and YOU helped me, and I'm all paid up, and that's the end of this fucking story."

Okay, I didn't say Fucking because I was at the FILM BUFF on Roncesvalles and was therefore surrounded by 300,000 children, so I kept my language clean. But seriously, now I'm paranoid that this has happened before, unbeknownst to me.

And now my oven doesn't work! Thanks alot God.

Has anyone seen Zanta? I saw him once at Ossington station. It was pretty cool. He didn't do any push-ups, he just yelled, "oh yeah oh yeah" like Macho Man Randy Savage. I am glad he's getting more press as of late, since I find it really difficult to describe Zanta to those who've not experienced him.