With temperatures like this, it's easy to get too much sun, especially if you're a thoughtless fool like the girl in this story. Any similarities to persons real or fictional are purely coincidental, but for the sake of making things easy, we'll call her Gina.
A bit of necessary back-story, if I may. A few weeks ago, Gina got a sunburn on her arms. It was a "farmer's tan" - she was wearing a v-neck t-shirt, so only the small exposed area of her upper chest and upper arms burned, while her lower arms tanned. It was painful for days, and she swore she wouldn't leave the house without sunscreen for the rest of the summer. Even worse than the pain was the appearance of this particular burn; the markings looked ridiculous if she wore any shirt that didn't cover the tan lines. Was it fixable? Was she doomed to spend the summer as a multi-tonal freak? Time would tell.
On with the story. Canada Day started as a hazy but comfortable Tuesday in Port Hawkesbury. Wearing her same v-neck t-shirt, the very fair-skinned Gina decided to hold off on the sunscreen, since the UV index didn't seem very high (and being far from a meteorologist, this conclusion was drawn merely from looking out the window that morning).
After about an hour of screaming children, free hotdogs, and lining up to get her three year old on the Bounce-arama at the Grenville Green, Gina and family were done celebrating, and had decided to go to the beach. It would be practically deserted, since most people were at Canada Day festivities, and the kids would have a ball.
Home they went to change, and it was here that Gina had an epiphany: her skin color was completely uneven, and sunbathing on her deck would be both frustrating (with kids running around) and obscene (she's no Gisele Bundchen). What better way to even out her tan than to let it all hang out at a deserted beach? With the car packed, the family headed to Port Hood.
Upon arrival, as always, the first order of business was to coat her kids in four inches of sunscreen. Once finished, it was just Gina, a blanket, the blazing noon-time sun, and her plan of action. She put a tiny bit of sunscreen on the most burnt part of her upper arm, but then all bets were off, and out came the big bottle of Hawaiian Bronze Golden Tanning Oil, which clearly read, "does not protect against sunburn". Somewhere in the deep recesses of her mind, it was totally feasible to blend the multicolored skin with the white skin by turning all the skin a deep brown.
Cut to three and a half hours later, and the family had packed up for the drive back to Port Hawkesbury. Cut to 10pm, and now that the sun had gone down, the extent of the damage was clearly visible. Cut to the next morning, and the pain was almost unbearable. Such is the saga of a sunburn.
However, this was no regular sunburn, oh no. This was the mother of all sunburns that, in her 29 years on earth, she had never suffered through before. I'll give you a few highlights of the effects of using tanning oil on fair skin in 30 degree heat.
Her entire upper body was off limits to everyone, as even an accidental brush to the area produced a yelp and a grimace that would have scared you to death. She was so tense from trying not to move her shoulders, that she ended up pulling two muscles in her back. Sleeping was impossible. Wearing a bra with straps was impossible. Changing her clothes was excruciating. The heat emanating from her body was enough to cook raw meat, yet she sat huddled in a blanket for two days because she had the chills. The skin on her body was too tender and sore to apply any sort of soothing lotion until four days later. Any chore requiring the use of her arms took at least an hour. She was unable to enjoy any of this past week's nice weather because sun exposure was too painful.
Her skin is now a variety of different colors in different spots, including burgundy, red, fuschia, brown, white, and even green (the massive amount of aloe vera lotion used had dyed some spots of skin an emerald color). I'll leave out the details about blistering and layers of fried epidermis coming off. You don't want to hear them, trust me. But know this, I've seen crime scene photos less gruesome than the sight of Gina's upper body.
So kids, the moral of my story is: don't be like Gina. Sunscreen is made for a reason, so use it liberally. She wishes she had.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Summer Lovin'
I thought I'd lighten things up a bit this week and write about the top 5 best things about summer.
Number 5 is esthetic discipline (probably only applicable to women). It's easy to throw on a big sweatshirt and shoes when it's cold out, but once the nice weather arrives, it's time for girls to buckle down and get in gear.
Once shorts and skirts are a daily wardrobe staple, those legs need to be shaved, ladies. I know women who don't shave their legs all winter, and while I'm not one of those women, I think I can speak for the majority when I say that leg-shaving happens much more frequently this time of year than any other. Now guys, I know you're probably grossed out, since in your universe of Jessica Alba et. al. girls are hairless sun goddesses; I don't want to burst your bubble, so forget your read any of that and skip to the next paragraph.
For you ladies, isn't it nice to have a regular routine of toenail-polishing, waxing, tanning, cute-skirt/shirt/sandal shopping? It's easy to get a little careless when there's twenty feet of snow on the ground, but the promise of nice days and fun gatherings always makes me care a little bit more about how I look.
Number 4 is the heat/absence of snow. My favorite season is autumn, but I'll give summer sun it's props when props are due.
The sun shining and birdies tweeting every morning is such a nice change from our most recent, relentless winter. Regardless of Maritimers' penchant for dissatisfaction with the weather, everyone can agree that it's nice to get a break from snow and sleet and driving wind.
We can swim, spend time in the garden, golf till our heart's content, and relish every ray of sunshine that comes our way. And trust me, that's exactly what I'm going to spend the next two months doing.
Number 3 is BBQing. Who doesn't love a good BBQ? I don't know if it's the food itself as much as the BBQing atmosphere as a whole. There is nothing that says "summer" better than a group of people on a patio, steaks and burgers grilling, someone drinking a beer, music playing and everyone laughing and having a great time.
On second thought, maybe it is the food. Leave the fancy steaks and chicken for someone else - hot dogs are my favorite. Years ago, myself and a friend of mine had a little contest to see if we could each eat an entire package of hot dogs BBQed. I don't know if it's funny or kind of disgusting, but we each ate a whole dozen (minus the buns), and it wasn't even a challenge.
I'm that nut you see on her deck in November, parka on, hair blowing around in the wind, trying to squeeze in one more BBQ before it's stored away for the season.
Number 2 is driving. I love to drive. It's very difficult these days to enjoy a good drive, seeing as there are two demanding and talkative kids in the back of our car, but that doesn't stop us from trying.
A perfect evening for me includes a relaxing (ish) drive, cool breeze blowing in the window, listening to The Hawk. This is an activity that is much easier to enjoy in July than it is in, say, February, when your studded tires are barely gripping the ice on the road and the slush slows traffic to a crawl. Yes, it's the summer drive that does it for me.
Number 1 is the beach. I've never been a big beach-goer, unless you count Murray's Beach in French Cove (which you shouldn't). However, since being introduced to Port Hood beach, things have changed. It's like an all-inclusive summer experience.
You get to paint your toenails and put on your best beach outfit. You get to enjoy the drive there, the warm weather, and you can even take along the portable BBQ. For a parent, the beach is like a dream come true. Fill your trunk with shovels and pails and toys, dip your kids in sunscreen, and let them run! That's where we spent Canada Day, and it was a perfect start to a very beachy summer for us.
So there you have it, my top five. If you're at all interested in the top five worst things about summer, I have that list, too. Mosquitoes, sunburn, June Bugs, humidity, and two months of terrible hair weather are the worst offenders. But in keeping with a positive outlook this week, I'll go heavy on the deet, stick my hair in a ponytail, use lots of SPF 5000, and be thankful for the sun. It'll be gone before we know it!
Number 5 is esthetic discipline (probably only applicable to women). It's easy to throw on a big sweatshirt and shoes when it's cold out, but once the nice weather arrives, it's time for girls to buckle down and get in gear.
Once shorts and skirts are a daily wardrobe staple, those legs need to be shaved, ladies. I know women who don't shave their legs all winter, and while I'm not one of those women, I think I can speak for the majority when I say that leg-shaving happens much more frequently this time of year than any other. Now guys, I know you're probably grossed out, since in your universe of Jessica Alba et. al. girls are hairless sun goddesses; I don't want to burst your bubble, so forget your read any of that and skip to the next paragraph.
For you ladies, isn't it nice to have a regular routine of toenail-polishing, waxing, tanning, cute-skirt/shirt/sandal shopping? It's easy to get a little careless when there's twenty feet of snow on the ground, but the promise of nice days and fun gatherings always makes me care a little bit more about how I look.
Number 4 is the heat/absence of snow. My favorite season is autumn, but I'll give summer sun it's props when props are due.
The sun shining and birdies tweeting every morning is such a nice change from our most recent, relentless winter. Regardless of Maritimers' penchant for dissatisfaction with the weather, everyone can agree that it's nice to get a break from snow and sleet and driving wind.
We can swim, spend time in the garden, golf till our heart's content, and relish every ray of sunshine that comes our way. And trust me, that's exactly what I'm going to spend the next two months doing.
Number 3 is BBQing. Who doesn't love a good BBQ? I don't know if it's the food itself as much as the BBQing atmosphere as a whole. There is nothing that says "summer" better than a group of people on a patio, steaks and burgers grilling, someone drinking a beer, music playing and everyone laughing and having a great time.
On second thought, maybe it is the food. Leave the fancy steaks and chicken for someone else - hot dogs are my favorite. Years ago, myself and a friend of mine had a little contest to see if we could each eat an entire package of hot dogs BBQed. I don't know if it's funny or kind of disgusting, but we each ate a whole dozen (minus the buns), and it wasn't even a challenge.
I'm that nut you see on her deck in November, parka on, hair blowing around in the wind, trying to squeeze in one more BBQ before it's stored away for the season.
Number 2 is driving. I love to drive. It's very difficult these days to enjoy a good drive, seeing as there are two demanding and talkative kids in the back of our car, but that doesn't stop us from trying.
A perfect evening for me includes a relaxing (ish) drive, cool breeze blowing in the window, listening to The Hawk. This is an activity that is much easier to enjoy in July than it is in, say, February, when your studded tires are barely gripping the ice on the road and the slush slows traffic to a crawl. Yes, it's the summer drive that does it for me.
Number 1 is the beach. I've never been a big beach-goer, unless you count Murray's Beach in French Cove (which you shouldn't). However, since being introduced to Port Hood beach, things have changed. It's like an all-inclusive summer experience.
You get to paint your toenails and put on your best beach outfit. You get to enjoy the drive there, the warm weather, and you can even take along the portable BBQ. For a parent, the beach is like a dream come true. Fill your trunk with shovels and pails and toys, dip your kids in sunscreen, and let them run! That's where we spent Canada Day, and it was a perfect start to a very beachy summer for us.
So there you have it, my top five. If you're at all interested in the top five worst things about summer, I have that list, too. Mosquitoes, sunburn, June Bugs, humidity, and two months of terrible hair weather are the worst offenders. But in keeping with a positive outlook this week, I'll go heavy on the deet, stick my hair in a ponytail, use lots of SPF 5000, and be thankful for the sun. It'll be gone before we know it!
Monday, July 7, 2008
Go Mitch!
Though I can be accurately described as an American Idol fanatic, I've never been able to get into Canadian Idol. Certainly not due to an inferior talent pool, but because all in all, the entire premise of the show is lost on the people of this country.
In the States, more often than not, the winners of the finale (and sometimes even runners-up) have gone on to stardom and a promising career. That's because people are, for the most part, voting for the singer who's voice they like and who's album they will buy. And it only makes sense; you'd want to encourage a product you're anxious to consume - in this case, the product is a person's music.
Unfortunately, Canadian Idol fans don't subscribe to that same logic. Sure, it's the most popular show on Canadian television, but it's missing the point. All over this country, people root for the contestant who lives the closest to their hometown. It doesn't matter if they're any good, or if they'll realistically have any chance at a career in the music industry, what matters is that the whole community rallies around "Cute little Tammy Joe Smiley from Anytown, Pick-a-Province". Then, once the season is over, the former stars of Canadian Idol (including the winner) have historically drifted into a life of musical obscurity, wondering why only two dozen of the thirty million voters bothered to buy their album. It gives these kids a false sense of expectation.
Like Tyler Mullendore. Not to suggest that he's at all bitter about fading somewhat out of the spotlight since his elimination from last year's season of Canadian Idol; on the contrary, with typical Cape Breton graciousness, he had nothing but appreciation and thanks to all his supporters when I spoke to him recently. Still, he admits that Mullendore Mania has quieted considerably since the show ended. And while not winning has served him well in his ability to stay true to the kind of musician he wants to be, he deserves the same accolades and praise as he received while he was our local celebrity. So what if he's no longer on television on Tuesday nights? I'm sure he'd love for all his fans to come out and support his post-Idol efforts. (His new band, One Shot Wonder, is performing at the Carriage House in Port Hawkesbury on July 11th. Everyone who cramped their dialing finger voting for Tyler last June would be well served by turning out.)
All this being said, however, I have renewed hope after having seen Mitch MacDonald perform last Monday night. I've never been one to follow the crowd just for the sake of following, so my admiration doesn't have much to do with his being a local boy. I believe Mitch can and should go far in this year's Canadian Idol contest, and I'll tell you why (being an American Idol connoisseur who is suffering from illusions of expertise regarding these matters, to date having correctly chosen every Idol contestant who would have a successful career. Leave me alone, I don't get out much.)
I was very impressed with Mitch's performance. First, and most importantly, I think he has an outstanding voice, both in it's purity and musical relevance. His tone is very clear, and aside from a few wonky notes (which could be easily attributed to first-performance-of-the-season nerves), his pitch was bang on. He has an easily recognizable radio voice, which is an important characteristic in a time of vocal monotony in the industry. He chose a song that, while recognizable, wasn't so overplayed that it begged for voice comparisons. Add to all that his obvious comfort in front of a crowd, his charismatic nature, and his contemporary image, and ladies and gentlemen, we have ourselves a top contender for the Canadian Idol crown.
Obviously, with a show like Idol that is based on national popularity, nothing is ever in the bag. He's got some stiff competition, and he'll need to be consistently good to maintain his position on the show. But when all is said and done, I would certainly stand in line to buy a ticket to a Mitch MacDonald show, regardless of how he places in the competition. And that's the kind of person we should be voting for.
I'm hoping Canadian Idol fans in the quad counties remember that. Mitch, like Tyler before him, was good before he made the top 24, and he'll still be good when the show is over. Voting is great, as long as it translates into local support of his musical career after Idol is finished. Not only should we be flying the "Go Mitch!" banner now, it should continue when he comes home to perform for all the people who pledged their summer love.
In the States, more often than not, the winners of the finale (and sometimes even runners-up) have gone on to stardom and a promising career. That's because people are, for the most part, voting for the singer who's voice they like and who's album they will buy. And it only makes sense; you'd want to encourage a product you're anxious to consume - in this case, the product is a person's music.
Unfortunately, Canadian Idol fans don't subscribe to that same logic. Sure, it's the most popular show on Canadian television, but it's missing the point. All over this country, people root for the contestant who lives the closest to their hometown. It doesn't matter if they're any good, or if they'll realistically have any chance at a career in the music industry, what matters is that the whole community rallies around "Cute little Tammy Joe Smiley from Anytown, Pick-a-Province". Then, once the season is over, the former stars of Canadian Idol (including the winner) have historically drifted into a life of musical obscurity, wondering why only two dozen of the thirty million voters bothered to buy their album. It gives these kids a false sense of expectation.
Like Tyler Mullendore. Not to suggest that he's at all bitter about fading somewhat out of the spotlight since his elimination from last year's season of Canadian Idol; on the contrary, with typical Cape Breton graciousness, he had nothing but appreciation and thanks to all his supporters when I spoke to him recently. Still, he admits that Mullendore Mania has quieted considerably since the show ended. And while not winning has served him well in his ability to stay true to the kind of musician he wants to be, he deserves the same accolades and praise as he received while he was our local celebrity. So what if he's no longer on television on Tuesday nights? I'm sure he'd love for all his fans to come out and support his post-Idol efforts. (His new band, One Shot Wonder, is performing at the Carriage House in Port Hawkesbury on July 11th. Everyone who cramped their dialing finger voting for Tyler last June would be well served by turning out.)
All this being said, however, I have renewed hope after having seen Mitch MacDonald perform last Monday night. I've never been one to follow the crowd just for the sake of following, so my admiration doesn't have much to do with his being a local boy. I believe Mitch can and should go far in this year's Canadian Idol contest, and I'll tell you why (being an American Idol connoisseur who is suffering from illusions of expertise regarding these matters, to date having correctly chosen every Idol contestant who would have a successful career. Leave me alone, I don't get out much.)
I was very impressed with Mitch's performance. First, and most importantly, I think he has an outstanding voice, both in it's purity and musical relevance. His tone is very clear, and aside from a few wonky notes (which could be easily attributed to first-performance-of-the-season nerves), his pitch was bang on. He has an easily recognizable radio voice, which is an important characteristic in a time of vocal monotony in the industry. He chose a song that, while recognizable, wasn't so overplayed that it begged for voice comparisons. Add to all that his obvious comfort in front of a crowd, his charismatic nature, and his contemporary image, and ladies and gentlemen, we have ourselves a top contender for the Canadian Idol crown.
Obviously, with a show like Idol that is based on national popularity, nothing is ever in the bag. He's got some stiff competition, and he'll need to be consistently good to maintain his position on the show. But when all is said and done, I would certainly stand in line to buy a ticket to a Mitch MacDonald show, regardless of how he places in the competition. And that's the kind of person we should be voting for.
I'm hoping Canadian Idol fans in the quad counties remember that. Mitch, like Tyler before him, was good before he made the top 24, and he'll still be good when the show is over. Voting is great, as long as it translates into local support of his musical career after Idol is finished. Not only should we be flying the "Go Mitch!" banner now, it should continue when he comes home to perform for all the people who pledged their summer love.
Not Welcome in Springfield
Before I even start, I'm aware of how unpopular this article is going to be, and I'm willing to live with that. I don't feel the need to cower in the corner or brandish a weapon, either. I can proudly and shamelessly admit that I hate The Simpsons.
I'll even reword it for those of you who think you must have misunderstood: I absolutely detest The Simpsons. Always have, always will.
Normally, I smile and nod and ignore people's incessant praise, quoting, reminiscing about past episodes. But in the last two weeks alone, these cartoon creatures have been featured in articles written by not one, but two, excellent journalists who I quite enjoy otherwise. Even more to my horror, I understand the entire staff of this fine newspaper are notorious Simpsons fans, an incomprehensible nightmare for someone like me. It's too late for them now. I can only hope to save some of you from the lure and mind-control of Groening propaganda.
It's not just that I don't like the show or would rather watch something else. I'm talking I loathe The Simpsons. The thought of watching even one episode makes my brain bleed.
There are shows on television that I enjoy, and others that I do not, but I don't get painted with the scarlet letter when I admit to having no use for "Dancing With the Stars", now do I? No, I don't. The only fan base who will gasp and shake their heads in disgust at the opinions of an anti-fan, is The Simpsons' loyal fan base. So bring it on, people. I'm used to it.
I've heard the whole, "their humor is just too sophisticated and smart for you to understand." Nice try, but sorry; I have two sons and I attended university, so there isn't a single thing about poop or beer that I don't understand.
Have you ever watched The Simpsons? I know most people have, myself included. I remember when it first aired, when Bart was new and fresh and the coolest guy on television. Class clowns and future delinquents the world over looked to that yellow-haired little brat for inspiration. You couldn't swing a cat without hitting someone in an "Ay-carumba!" t-shirt. "Did you watch the Simpsons last night?" was probably the most spoken phrase of 1992. I'll admit, I'm guilty of briefly riding on the Simpsons fad bandwagon myself, and I even remember watching the show one night and saying to my young, foolish self, "remember that quote, so when people ask you what your favorite Simpson's episode is, you'll have something to say." How terrible! I was such a sheep.
I shouldn't feel bad, however, because there were (and still are) plenty of sheep. You know, people who don't "get" or enjoy the show, but pretend to and watch it for the sake of keeping up with Simpsons conversation, or to increase their cool factor. I know, I can't believe I just said watching a TV show might increase someone's cool factor. I can't believe I just used the term "cool factor". See? Just reading about the Simpsons for the past twenty minutes has already made me more of a nerd.
Luckily, at least I can say my stay in Simpson-fan-land was very brief. I may only have been about eleven years old, but my foresight was spot-on.
I'm just not a fan of mindless humor. It takes more than the sight of an animated character falling down steps to make me laugh, something more elaborate than a conversation about bathroom activities, or an exclamation of, "Eat my shorts." It is this humor - The Simpsons, Family Guy, films with Will Ferrell, to site a few more examples - that has slowly but undeniably hastened and intensified the stupidity of the North American viewing public. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but it's true. "D'oh" is not funny. Prank calls are not funny. Ignorance is not funny. And were it not for these ever-important staples of Simpsons humor, the show would be nothing more than an ill-behaved, snotty little devil-child, his useless, lazy, hillbilly father, and the rest of the Springfield gang, all roaming aimlessly around town hall, wondering why nobody watches their show anymore.
Now, I know all you Simpsons fans are clinging to the show's success like grim death. Even if you hate the more recent seasons with a passion, your years of viewership are an investment you're not willing to back out on now. Kudos and godspeed. But please know, there are still people in the world who haven't been sucked in by the Simpsons vortex. And I'm one of those people, so please try to limit your Mr. Burns-isms during conversation. It's really quite annoying.
I'll even reword it for those of you who think you must have misunderstood: I absolutely detest The Simpsons. Always have, always will.
Normally, I smile and nod and ignore people's incessant praise, quoting, reminiscing about past episodes. But in the last two weeks alone, these cartoon creatures have been featured in articles written by not one, but two, excellent journalists who I quite enjoy otherwise. Even more to my horror, I understand the entire staff of this fine newspaper are notorious Simpsons fans, an incomprehensible nightmare for someone like me. It's too late for them now. I can only hope to save some of you from the lure and mind-control of Groening propaganda.
It's not just that I don't like the show or would rather watch something else. I'm talking I loathe The Simpsons. The thought of watching even one episode makes my brain bleed.
There are shows on television that I enjoy, and others that I do not, but I don't get painted with the scarlet letter when I admit to having no use for "Dancing With the Stars", now do I? No, I don't. The only fan base who will gasp and shake their heads in disgust at the opinions of an anti-fan, is The Simpsons' loyal fan base. So bring it on, people. I'm used to it.
I've heard the whole, "their humor is just too sophisticated and smart for you to understand." Nice try, but sorry; I have two sons and I attended university, so there isn't a single thing about poop or beer that I don't understand.
Have you ever watched The Simpsons? I know most people have, myself included. I remember when it first aired, when Bart was new and fresh and the coolest guy on television. Class clowns and future delinquents the world over looked to that yellow-haired little brat for inspiration. You couldn't swing a cat without hitting someone in an "Ay-carumba!" t-shirt. "Did you watch the Simpsons last night?" was probably the most spoken phrase of 1992. I'll admit, I'm guilty of briefly riding on the Simpsons fad bandwagon myself, and I even remember watching the show one night and saying to my young, foolish self, "remember that quote, so when people ask you what your favorite Simpson's episode is, you'll have something to say." How terrible! I was such a sheep.
I shouldn't feel bad, however, because there were (and still are) plenty of sheep. You know, people who don't "get" or enjoy the show, but pretend to and watch it for the sake of keeping up with Simpsons conversation, or to increase their cool factor. I know, I can't believe I just said watching a TV show might increase someone's cool factor. I can't believe I just used the term "cool factor". See? Just reading about the Simpsons for the past twenty minutes has already made me more of a nerd.
Luckily, at least I can say my stay in Simpson-fan-land was very brief. I may only have been about eleven years old, but my foresight was spot-on.
I'm just not a fan of mindless humor. It takes more than the sight of an animated character falling down steps to make me laugh, something more elaborate than a conversation about bathroom activities, or an exclamation of, "Eat my shorts." It is this humor - The Simpsons, Family Guy, films with Will Ferrell, to site a few more examples - that has slowly but undeniably hastened and intensified the stupidity of the North American viewing public. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but it's true. "D'oh" is not funny. Prank calls are not funny. Ignorance is not funny. And were it not for these ever-important staples of Simpsons humor, the show would be nothing more than an ill-behaved, snotty little devil-child, his useless, lazy, hillbilly father, and the rest of the Springfield gang, all roaming aimlessly around town hall, wondering why nobody watches their show anymore.
Now, I know all you Simpsons fans are clinging to the show's success like grim death. Even if you hate the more recent seasons with a passion, your years of viewership are an investment you're not willing to back out on now. Kudos and godspeed. But please know, there are still people in the world who haven't been sucked in by the Simpsons vortex. And I'm one of those people, so please try to limit your Mr. Burns-isms during conversation. It's really quite annoying.
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