What would we do without computers? I like to think it would be easy to revert back to the days of snail mail and encyclopedias, but realistically, I'm not sure I would make the transition so smoothly.
A few short months ago, I decided to solve my chronic computer woes by buying a brand new laptop. As a person who acquired their first computer only three years ago, this was a big deal for me. I'm used to error messages and insufficient space issues from a pre-historic desktop, so in comparison my new computer is like a little slice of technological heaven.
This past week, my laptop's monitor broke. It's a factory problem covered under warranty, but unfortunately it needs to be sent back to Dell for repair, which means I'll be without a computer for almost two weeks. For lots of people, I bet that doesn't even register as a problem. For me, it's a fate worse than death.
When you have the internet, you're used to things being instant. With the internet, my friend from Iqaluit can give me a virtual tour of the house she's planning to buy, from the interior paint to the landscaping. I can see pictures of a baby born in Edmonton before the family even gets home from the hospital. Didn't make it to the wedding in Halifax? No problem, I can watch a video of the bouquet toss the very next morning. My world is literally at my fingertips.
I can't even fathom doing things "the old way". Couple gets married on Saturday in Halifax. They get their film developed on Monday or Tuesday, divvy up a few shots, buy a stamp, and get an envelope mailed out by Friday. The following Wednesday I receive the pictures in the mail, a full eleven days after the wedding took place, and that's assuming we live in some alternate universe where brides make sending pictures to their friends their top post-wedding priority. But it's just one example of how the instantaneousness of the internet has spoiled me.
Perhaps this is a better example: writing this article. Twenty years ago, I'd be writing it by hand. I'd have to count the words manually, proofread it incessantly until I was sure I had caught all the mistakes, type out at least one copy on the typewriter, and deliver it to my editor. Now, with the magic of "backspace", I can write and re-write and edit till my heart's content. Cut and paste my way through spell check and word count software, attach the finished document to an e-mail, and voila - done like dinner. What used to be a week-long project has become a simple, five minute task. It's incredible when you think about it.
Another huge change has been with the concept of reference. You know your product has succeeded when it's name becomes a verb, as I'm sure anyone who has "Googled" something will agree. A high school project used to involve hours of research and perfecting your Dewey Decimal skills, but these days, Wikipedia will tell you all you need to know about Albert Einstein or the history of democracy, or anything else you could possibly need information about, no matter how obscure. Maybe you're like me and appreciate the value of a good old fashioned textbook, but even I'll admit that cnn.com has been my source on more than one occasion.
And when I'm craving a healthy dose of nostalgia, YouTube is always there for me to rely on. A conversation with girlfriends about how funny an old music video was doesn't have to be fruitless anymore. We may have long since thrown away our VHS of every popular song on Video Hits, but we can watch any video (clips of any show or movie for that matter) by simply typing the name in YouTube search. What a beautiful thing for someone like me who's a bit stuck in the 80s.
Facebook is probably my favorite "tool". Everyone is busy with life, and staying in touch with your friends can sometimes be a challenge, to say nothing of people you've lost touch with. Facebook has allowed me to stay in contact with childhood friends, family members living away, and college buddies. I can see their kids, chat live with them, find out when they're coming home, and the list goes on. As any Facebook regular will attest, you feel a bit out of the loop when you've been off-line for an extended period of time.
And that's my dilemma. The world will continue turning while my computer is being fixed, and I'm sure I'll survive a week or two without the convenience of the internet. It'll just take me a little longer to get caught up with the rest of you.
Friday, August 1, 2008
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Lesson Learned
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.
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.
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.
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
2008 Much Music Video Awards
I have to say, I was surprisingly impressed by this year's awards show. Much Music has always had a campy, trying-so-hard-to-be-the-MTV-VMAs-but-just-not-getting-it-right kind of show, but this year was different.
Right off the top, I loved that it wasn't 7 hours long. Most awards shows involve one or two good performances and another few hours of useless filler, but MM got it right: pack it tight with good stuff, and then call it a night.
Also, the whole street being closed down, the block party feel, is very cool.
I'll try to keep this a point-for-point commentary.
First of all, Devon Soltengeek (or whatever his name is) needs to stay the hell out of the tanning booth for a few weeks. Seriously dude, you're somewhere between Posh Spice and George Hamilton.
I loved that the guys from Sum 41 wore New Kids t-shirts. Totally stole my idea, 'cause that's what I would have wore, too. You go, Cone.
Someone should let Dwight Schrute that he's really not that big a star. There were rumours of a bit of a diva attitude during the show, which is really funny. Apparently he wouldn't introduce one act because they weren't popular enough. Are you kidding me? Neither are you! It would have been a perfect fit! He's one of these guys who should just be in character all the time since their real personality is obnoxious and far less enjoyable than their TV persona.
Back to Devon Soltendiek (or whatever his name is) briefly....when he mentioned having a girlfriend I almost fell on the floor. He's straight? Really? I've never seen a straight guy with pants that snug and hair that...well...odd. I always thought he was dating the cute little guyliner-wearing fella from Simple Plan. They'd make a cute couple.
Best red carpet moment: a big, expensive car rolls up and this chick struts out. Is it Bai Ling? Um, no. Who the hell is that? Everyone is cheering for her so she must be someone. Is that Sean Kingston? Oh that's his girlfriend! A complete nobody, yet she's working the red carpet and lapping up the attention like she's Mariah Carey. Love it. Moving along...
Note to the powers that be at MM: Nobody cares about The Hills. The only reason anyone knows who they are is because they're always on Perez Hilton. Get real celebrities next year. And no, Brody Jenner isn't cute. He kind of looks like he doesn't shower.
Jesse MacCartney, on the other hand, is the hotness. He always was, but now I feel better about saying it, since he's of legal age.
Perez looked great! He lost a lot of weight, and his suits were very dapper.
Why has no one pointed out the obvious and uncanny resemblance between the blonde chick from Girlicious and Mandy Moore? That always bothered me. They look so much alike and I've never even heard it mentioned.
Chase Crawford is the prettiest little boy I've seen in years.
Rhianna is an excellent performer, she's sounded good every time I've seen her. She sings live, unlike most others on awards shows, and she kills it every time. But hun, you could have done without those pants. I'm just saying.
Here's an excerpt from "The Robin Antin Girlicious/Pussycat Dolls Dance Manual": stand backwards, look over your shoulder; give your hair a "barely avoiding spinal injury" kind of whip and run your hands up the side of your body; walk in an exaggerated fashion toward the front of the stage while pointing at the crowd; do the Shakira ass-shake thing; aaaaaaaand....repeat.
Let's skip to Hedley. That Hoggard guy...man, can he sing. I think he's fantastic. There's something about him...I was going to say a quiet confidence, but it's anything but quiet. He's very comfortable in his own skin, and that is very attractive (even in denim capris, bare feet, and donning a fuscia fanny pack). Still, you could never convince me he isn't bisexual.
And now, ladies and gentlemen, the moment you've all been waiting for. You know what I'm talking about - it's the New Kids on the Block.
You can't imagine the weird grade 3 butterflies I had in the 30 seconds before these guys took the stage. Did they sing well? Um, that would be a big "N-O". Were they back in full force? Um, no again. They actually looked bored and embarassed. But no matter! Who cares? They're the friggin' New Kids on the Block!
One of my oldest friends (yes, I'm talking about you, Amy) works at Much Music. Now I can't be certain if she met them, if she was even there, but I know somewhere in Toronto on Sunday night, whether she is willing to admit it or not (which I'm sure she is), Amy was all teeth, and possibly even grooving to "The Right Stuff". I'm hoping she gave Joey MacIntyre a rub for me, but all I can do is hope. I hope you lived it for me, Amy.
Right off the top, I loved that it wasn't 7 hours long. Most awards shows involve one or two good performances and another few hours of useless filler, but MM got it right: pack it tight with good stuff, and then call it a night.
Also, the whole street being closed down, the block party feel, is very cool.
I'll try to keep this a point-for-point commentary.
First of all, Devon Soltengeek (or whatever his name is) needs to stay the hell out of the tanning booth for a few weeks. Seriously dude, you're somewhere between Posh Spice and George Hamilton.
I loved that the guys from Sum 41 wore New Kids t-shirts. Totally stole my idea, 'cause that's what I would have wore, too. You go, Cone.
Someone should let Dwight Schrute that he's really not that big a star. There were rumours of a bit of a diva attitude during the show, which is really funny. Apparently he wouldn't introduce one act because they weren't popular enough. Are you kidding me? Neither are you! It would have been a perfect fit! He's one of these guys who should just be in character all the time since their real personality is obnoxious and far less enjoyable than their TV persona.
Back to Devon Soltendiek (or whatever his name is) briefly....when he mentioned having a girlfriend I almost fell on the floor. He's straight? Really? I've never seen a straight guy with pants that snug and hair that...well...odd. I always thought he was dating the cute little guyliner-wearing fella from Simple Plan. They'd make a cute couple.
Best red carpet moment: a big, expensive car rolls up and this chick struts out. Is it Bai Ling? Um, no. Who the hell is that? Everyone is cheering for her so she must be someone. Is that Sean Kingston? Oh that's his girlfriend! A complete nobody, yet she's working the red carpet and lapping up the attention like she's Mariah Carey. Love it. Moving along...
Note to the powers that be at MM: Nobody cares about The Hills. The only reason anyone knows who they are is because they're always on Perez Hilton. Get real celebrities next year. And no, Brody Jenner isn't cute. He kind of looks like he doesn't shower.
Jesse MacCartney, on the other hand, is the hotness. He always was, but now I feel better about saying it, since he's of legal age.
Perez looked great! He lost a lot of weight, and his suits were very dapper.
Why has no one pointed out the obvious and uncanny resemblance between the blonde chick from Girlicious and Mandy Moore? That always bothered me. They look so much alike and I've never even heard it mentioned.
Chase Crawford is the prettiest little boy I've seen in years.
Rhianna is an excellent performer, she's sounded good every time I've seen her. She sings live, unlike most others on awards shows, and she kills it every time. But hun, you could have done without those pants. I'm just saying.
Here's an excerpt from "The Robin Antin Girlicious/Pussycat Dolls Dance Manual": stand backwards, look over your shoulder; give your hair a "barely avoiding spinal injury" kind of whip and run your hands up the side of your body; walk in an exaggerated fashion toward the front of the stage while pointing at the crowd; do the Shakira ass-shake thing; aaaaaaaand....repeat.
Let's skip to Hedley. That Hoggard guy...man, can he sing. I think he's fantastic. There's something about him...I was going to say a quiet confidence, but it's anything but quiet. He's very comfortable in his own skin, and that is very attractive (even in denim capris, bare feet, and donning a fuscia fanny pack). Still, you could never convince me he isn't bisexual.
And now, ladies and gentlemen, the moment you've all been waiting for. You know what I'm talking about - it's the New Kids on the Block.
You can't imagine the weird grade 3 butterflies I had in the 30 seconds before these guys took the stage. Did they sing well? Um, that would be a big "N-O". Were they back in full force? Um, no again. They actually looked bored and embarassed. But no matter! Who cares? They're the friggin' New Kids on the Block!
One of my oldest friends (yes, I'm talking about you, Amy) works at Much Music. Now I can't be certain if she met them, if she was even there, but I know somewhere in Toronto on Sunday night, whether she is willing to admit it or not (which I'm sure she is), Amy was all teeth, and possibly even grooving to "The Right Stuff". I'm hoping she gave Joey MacIntyre a rub for me, but all I can do is hope. I hope you lived it for me, Amy.
Monday, June 16, 2008
'Tis the Season
Ah, spring.
As soon as the snow melts, I'm reminded of the approaching wedding season. Traditionally, once April ends, the wedding invitations start rolling in. I recently celebrated my second wedding anniversary, and our May long-weekend wedding in 2006 was perfect. No fear of poor attendance due to snow storms, no embarrassment and discomfort from excessive perspiration due to summer humidity.
And again, this spring did not disappoint. Not only did I receive an invitation to the sure-to-be-beautiful wedding of a good friend, but I got some very exciting news in the past few days: my little sister is getting married! Yay! And, also very exciting, she has asked me to stand in the wedding. For most 29-year-olds, this might be cause to groan at the thought of adding yet another hideous taffeta dress to the back of the coat closet for eternity, but not me. Believe it or not, I've never stood in a wedding before, and I'm pumped.
As a bridesmaid, you get to wear a pretty dress and carry flowers, only instead of paying for 200 meals and still going hungry for fear of spilling something on your gown, you get a stress-free, cost-free meal and a night of dancing. Seems like a pretty sweet deal to me.
Since I've been in her shoes and might have a few words of wisdom, I'll be helping plan certain parts of my sister's wedding, as required. Most brides know what they want and won't settle for anything less than what they feel is important. God bless them, every one. Unfortunately, as any post-wedding bride will tell you, what you think will be important often isn't, and the things you overlook can sometimes be the most important things of all.
Take decorations, for example. I wasn't satisfied until I had wrapped thousands of tiny chocolates in delicate foil (the color of which matched the bridesmaid dresses, of course), and had placed these chocolates on each table in little glass bowls filled with perfectly coordinated flower petals. Wrap your brain around the manpower involved in that little detail. A detail which, as should have been expected, fell on blind eyes - people grabbed the chocolates, drove them into their open gob, and threw the foil wrapper over their shoulder without a second thought. Being an excited bride, I put way too much thought and labor into that one project, thinking foolishly that people would pick up the candies and admire the workmanship. Who was I kidding.
So if I may, I'd like to offer a few tips to the ladies who are tirelessly planning their all-important wedding.
First and foremost, don't skimp or make any sacrifices when it comes to your pictures. I know it's expensive, but it's by far the best investment you'll make. Trust me, the day will fly by so fast, you won't even remember it the following afternoon, and all you'll have left are the images to remind you. Make a video if you can. If you can't afford a professional, get one or two reliable friends to take along their camcorder. I watch mine often, to remember the music, the nervous laughter, and the look on the groom's face when I walked down the aisle. (That's my favorite part, and it will probably be yours, too.) The opportunity to look back on that day is truly priceless.
Don't sweat the small stuff. The little details you're worrying so much about will go unnoticed to 99% of the guests, so don't worry if the small glasses of tomato juice clash with the centerpieces; you're the only one who cares. If the ring bearer drops the pillow and starts to cry, big deal; you'll laugh about it the week after. If your curls are falling out on the way to the church, if you can't find your best lipstick, if you got a dot of mascara on your dress, don't burst into tears; as long as your groom shows up, the little things don't matter. Everyone thinks you and your wedding are gorgeous. The people who don't just suck and shouldn't be there anyway.
Further to that, enjoy your day. Laugh with your friends and chat with people you don't see very often. Have a plate of food and a piece of your cake - you likely paid through the nose for it, so you might as well reap the benefits. Kick off your uncomfortable shoes so you can dance the night away. Try to steal a moment alone with the person you just married. Don't let your wedding ruin your Wedding Day. With any luck, you'll only do it once, so have a great time.
Here's to all the brides and grooms, and may you have an awesome wedding.
As soon as the snow melts, I'm reminded of the approaching wedding season. Traditionally, once April ends, the wedding invitations start rolling in. I recently celebrated my second wedding anniversary, and our May long-weekend wedding in 2006 was perfect. No fear of poor attendance due to snow storms, no embarrassment and discomfort from excessive perspiration due to summer humidity.
And again, this spring did not disappoint. Not only did I receive an invitation to the sure-to-be-beautiful wedding of a good friend, but I got some very exciting news in the past few days: my little sister is getting married! Yay! And, also very exciting, she has asked me to stand in the wedding. For most 29-year-olds, this might be cause to groan at the thought of adding yet another hideous taffeta dress to the back of the coat closet for eternity, but not me. Believe it or not, I've never stood in a wedding before, and I'm pumped.
As a bridesmaid, you get to wear a pretty dress and carry flowers, only instead of paying for 200 meals and still going hungry for fear of spilling something on your gown, you get a stress-free, cost-free meal and a night of dancing. Seems like a pretty sweet deal to me.
Since I've been in her shoes and might have a few words of wisdom, I'll be helping plan certain parts of my sister's wedding, as required. Most brides know what they want and won't settle for anything less than what they feel is important. God bless them, every one. Unfortunately, as any post-wedding bride will tell you, what you think will be important often isn't, and the things you overlook can sometimes be the most important things of all.
Take decorations, for example. I wasn't satisfied until I had wrapped thousands of tiny chocolates in delicate foil (the color of which matched the bridesmaid dresses, of course), and had placed these chocolates on each table in little glass bowls filled with perfectly coordinated flower petals. Wrap your brain around the manpower involved in that little detail. A detail which, as should have been expected, fell on blind eyes - people grabbed the chocolates, drove them into their open gob, and threw the foil wrapper over their shoulder without a second thought. Being an excited bride, I put way too much thought and labor into that one project, thinking foolishly that people would pick up the candies and admire the workmanship. Who was I kidding.
So if I may, I'd like to offer a few tips to the ladies who are tirelessly planning their all-important wedding.
First and foremost, don't skimp or make any sacrifices when it comes to your pictures. I know it's expensive, but it's by far the best investment you'll make. Trust me, the day will fly by so fast, you won't even remember it the following afternoon, and all you'll have left are the images to remind you. Make a video if you can. If you can't afford a professional, get one or two reliable friends to take along their camcorder. I watch mine often, to remember the music, the nervous laughter, and the look on the groom's face when I walked down the aisle. (That's my favorite part, and it will probably be yours, too.) The opportunity to look back on that day is truly priceless.
Don't sweat the small stuff. The little details you're worrying so much about will go unnoticed to 99% of the guests, so don't worry if the small glasses of tomato juice clash with the centerpieces; you're the only one who cares. If the ring bearer drops the pillow and starts to cry, big deal; you'll laugh about it the week after. If your curls are falling out on the way to the church, if you can't find your best lipstick, if you got a dot of mascara on your dress, don't burst into tears; as long as your groom shows up, the little things don't matter. Everyone thinks you and your wedding are gorgeous. The people who don't just suck and shouldn't be there anyway.
Further to that, enjoy your day. Laugh with your friends and chat with people you don't see very often. Have a plate of food and a piece of your cake - you likely paid through the nose for it, so you might as well reap the benefits. Kick off your uncomfortable shoes so you can dance the night away. Try to steal a moment alone with the person you just married. Don't let your wedding ruin your Wedding Day. With any luck, you'll only do it once, so have a great time.
Here's to all the brides and grooms, and may you have an awesome wedding.
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