Dear Mr. Haagen-Daas,
I regret to inform you that I will no longer be purchasing your fine selection of ice cream products.
Normally a notification like this wouldn't be necessary, but seeing as I'm such a loyal customer, I am fairly certain my abstinence will reflect in your future sales figures, and I wanted to give you a head's up. You should expect to see a decline in the sales of, most notably: chocolate peanut butter, cherry vanilla, and rocky road.
If it's any consolation, the same effects will be felt by the folks at Dairy Queen, Scotsburn, Farmers, Ben & Jerrys, and every student ice cream barn in the Quad County area, to whom this letter has also been forwarded.
Trust me, it's not that I have any desire to stop consuming your delicious creations. Given the opportunity, I would gladly eat nothing but ice cream three meals a day for the rest of my life. Nothing gives me more pleasure than to open my freezer and see a pint of your wonderful diary goodness gazing back at me. To eat it is like a sweet, frozen kiss on the lips, and my taste buds covet every pecan, marshmallow & caramel swirl.
Many a death threat has been uttered to members of my household in an effort to sanctify and sustain your product, and I am both proud and joyless to report that my efforts have been met with much success. My husband isn't a big fan of ice cream, period, so he wasn't a big threat to begin with. My kids love it, but they're easily distracted, and I have been able to tempt them with other treats and keep the majority of the ice cream for myself. While this has been a wonderful reality for me to enjoy, I am now paying the price.
You see, I could have swore your packaging labels read "fat free" or "ideal for diets" or something along those lines, but I guess I was mistaken. And here I was, eating Cherry Garcia almost as if it were going out of style, not giving a second thought to the caloric repercussions of my actions. The result, to put it mildly, is not physically ideal.
First, I noticed my pants were fitting more snugly than usual. Soon after, I found I had a bit of extra padding when I would sit down. Coming on the end, I noticed an extra chin was forming. But the biggest wake up call came the other night, when I was startled at pictures I found; my husband has, at some point, married another woman! Sure, she looks a lot like me, and mysteriously she even wore my wedding dress...and had all the same guests...and was holding my children in a few shots. But that couldn't be me, I don't look like that! I may not have the same pre-babies bod I once did, but I couldn't have changed that much, could I? In any event, since my clothes have recently been rejecting my body, I feel it's in the best interest of everyone involved if I stop eating ice cream and begin a new diet regimen. Especially since, if you listen very closely, you can actually hear my arteries clogging.
So, allow me, if you will, to offer a few suggestions as to how to improve your products and make them more suitable for people like me.
First, each label should include a disclaimer, written in big, bold letters. Your advertising staff should have final copy, but I advise it should say something like, "WARNING: Consumption of this product, while providing instant and powerful gratification, may lead to obesity, with side effects including self-consciousness, denial, guilt, frustration, and lack of clothes-shopping enjoyment. Crying jags, hissy-fits, and temper tantrums are more infrequent, but have been reported in some cases." You may need a bigger container to fit all that, but I think you can afford it, considering you charge over $5 for as much ice cream as one could fit on a single large cone.
As the more expensive, yet more rewarding, alternative, you could invest millions of dollars in the research and development of a fat-free, calorie-free, organic and health-smart ice cream. Imagine being the brain behind that! Your profits would compensate one hundred fold for the initial investment, and you could win back faithful customers like me. Run with it, trust me. You're welcome.
In closing, I want to again express my regret concerning my new-found temperance, and I apologize for any negative effect it might have on your bottom line. Should you happen to take action on that idea we talked about, let me know and I'll be the first in line.
With fond memories & admiration,
A new & improved Gina MacDonald
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Sunday, April 27, 2008
En Guard
It came as a relief for me to hear that guards at Central Nova Scotia Correctional Center in Darthmouth had begun to refuse prisoner escort duties. It's about time the government is made to understand and address the realities of employment as a correctional officer.
Policy in Nova Scotia dictates that guards are not to be armed with weapons while escorting an inmate outside the prison, a policy which is supposed to ensure the safety of everyone involved by eliminating the risk of unauthorized device abuse or seizure. It looks good on paper, but it's not practical, nor is it safe.
Incarceration does funny things to people. The isolation, monotony, loneliness, and countless other factors, all mix together to form a very unpredictable and often dangerous mind set among people who's criminal history proves that they weren't too stable to begin with. Even the most well-behaved inmates have their breaking point, and it's impossible to predict the circumstances that might trigger a crisis situation. Correctional officers, who are outnumbered and inadequately equipped in many ways, are at a severe disadvantage.
These dangers, which I have experienced firsthand and do not look back on fondly, lead to my question: why should there be any hesitation in providing guards with reasonable devices to protect themselves and the public while escorting an inmate outside the prison?
Let's face it, prisons are not filled with candidates for Maritimer of the Week. With the exception of a few wrongly convicted, the offenders have committed a crime that was not punishable by probation or house arrest or any of the other slaps-on-the-wrist. The majority will reject authority, a large number will have a history of violence, some will have untreated mental illness, and every single one will be foul-tempered a good part of the time (for good reason, all things considered). How anybody could expect one unarmed individual to maintain the upper hand in a situation where one of these unstable, angry, dangerous offenders finds an opportunity to flee, is unrealistic and ignorant.
The use of reasonable force is one thing, but without the tools to effectively control a volatile situation, the average person is not capable of enforcing their authority and restoring order, no matter how much training they've had. Short of pulling a Jackie Chan, what is an regular-sized person with only their strength and wits supposed to do with a 250-pound man wielding a syringe he just stole from the hospital? A convict on the run is desperate, has little to lose, and will not hesitate to take whatever action is necessary to make their escape attempt a success. Hoping nothing bad happens is not enough. Hindsight is useless when the damage has already been done.
Which begs the question, who's safety is more important, correctional officers or the inmates themselves? I'd lose less sleep hearing of a convicted murderer being pepper-sprayed to prevent him from escaping custody, than I would hearing about a guard being beaten by a violent inmate because he was inadequately armed. When you follow the rules and behave, you don't have to worry about punishment; if you act out or pose a threat to others, expect that the necessary steps will be taken. That's the way the world works, and it should be no different for criminals in custody, of all people.
I'll be very interested to learn of any policy changes that take place within the Corrections Division. As far as I'm concerned, they're urgently needed and long overdue, and I'm surprised the Union for these correctional officers hasn't stepped up to the plate before now. All other law enforcement officers and agencies with employees in close contact with people that pose a high security risk, are given appropriate grades of weapons to enforce the law and ensure the safety of everyone involved. I don't see that prison guards should expect anything less. Last time I checked, there was no news of a pepper-spray-fatality epidemic.
Even those who are opposed to correctional officers having access to non-lethal weapons would, I'm sure, cross the proverbial line in the sand if, say, a convict escaped from a hospital escort and forced himself into their kid-filled mini van. An unfortunate incident is all that separates an anti-taser fanatic from a guy zapping an escaped prisoner with jumper cables.
Of course if the decision-makers continue to insist that no one is in danger by leaving guards unarmed, I invite them to spend a few days doing hospital escorts for high-risk offenders at Central Nova. Premier MacDonald would be a sight to see, trying to convince Big Bubba why he should put the scalpel down and get back in the van. Within minutes, Cecil Clarke would be there to hand-deliver a suit of body armour, attack dogs, and a change of underwear.
Good luck, guards. I'm in your corner.
Policy in Nova Scotia dictates that guards are not to be armed with weapons while escorting an inmate outside the prison, a policy which is supposed to ensure the safety of everyone involved by eliminating the risk of unauthorized device abuse or seizure. It looks good on paper, but it's not practical, nor is it safe.
Incarceration does funny things to people. The isolation, monotony, loneliness, and countless other factors, all mix together to form a very unpredictable and often dangerous mind set among people who's criminal history proves that they weren't too stable to begin with. Even the most well-behaved inmates have their breaking point, and it's impossible to predict the circumstances that might trigger a crisis situation. Correctional officers, who are outnumbered and inadequately equipped in many ways, are at a severe disadvantage.
These dangers, which I have experienced firsthand and do not look back on fondly, lead to my question: why should there be any hesitation in providing guards with reasonable devices to protect themselves and the public while escorting an inmate outside the prison?
Let's face it, prisons are not filled with candidates for Maritimer of the Week. With the exception of a few wrongly convicted, the offenders have committed a crime that was not punishable by probation or house arrest or any of the other slaps-on-the-wrist. The majority will reject authority, a large number will have a history of violence, some will have untreated mental illness, and every single one will be foul-tempered a good part of the time (for good reason, all things considered). How anybody could expect one unarmed individual to maintain the upper hand in a situation where one of these unstable, angry, dangerous offenders finds an opportunity to flee, is unrealistic and ignorant.
The use of reasonable force is one thing, but without the tools to effectively control a volatile situation, the average person is not capable of enforcing their authority and restoring order, no matter how much training they've had. Short of pulling a Jackie Chan, what is an regular-sized person with only their strength and wits supposed to do with a 250-pound man wielding a syringe he just stole from the hospital? A convict on the run is desperate, has little to lose, and will not hesitate to take whatever action is necessary to make their escape attempt a success. Hoping nothing bad happens is not enough. Hindsight is useless when the damage has already been done.
Which begs the question, who's safety is more important, correctional officers or the inmates themselves? I'd lose less sleep hearing of a convicted murderer being pepper-sprayed to prevent him from escaping custody, than I would hearing about a guard being beaten by a violent inmate because he was inadequately armed. When you follow the rules and behave, you don't have to worry about punishment; if you act out or pose a threat to others, expect that the necessary steps will be taken. That's the way the world works, and it should be no different for criminals in custody, of all people.
I'll be very interested to learn of any policy changes that take place within the Corrections Division. As far as I'm concerned, they're urgently needed and long overdue, and I'm surprised the Union for these correctional officers hasn't stepped up to the plate before now. All other law enforcement officers and agencies with employees in close contact with people that pose a high security risk, are given appropriate grades of weapons to enforce the law and ensure the safety of everyone involved. I don't see that prison guards should expect anything less. Last time I checked, there was no news of a pepper-spray-fatality epidemic.
Even those who are opposed to correctional officers having access to non-lethal weapons would, I'm sure, cross the proverbial line in the sand if, say, a convict escaped from a hospital escort and forced himself into their kid-filled mini van. An unfortunate incident is all that separates an anti-taser fanatic from a guy zapping an escaped prisoner with jumper cables.
Of course if the decision-makers continue to insist that no one is in danger by leaving guards unarmed, I invite them to spend a few days doing hospital escorts for high-risk offenders at Central Nova. Premier MacDonald would be a sight to see, trying to convince Big Bubba why he should put the scalpel down and get back in the van. Within minutes, Cecil Clarke would be there to hand-deliver a suit of body armour, attack dogs, and a change of underwear.
Good luck, guards. I'm in your corner.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Game Over
I heard on the news the other night that 80% of adults in Nova Scotia gamble in some form at least four times per month, whether it be buying lotto tickets or taking a trip to the casino. That's a much higher number than I would have guessed.
I've never been much of a gambler. I never to go bingo, I don't buy lottery tickets, scratch tickets, or pull tickets, and I've only been to a casino twice. Another thing I don't do is play those VLTs.
Don't get me wrong, I have before. I've thrown in a few loonies here and there, but never much more than that. And I've always cashed out if my winnings reached more than ten dollars or so. I've just never been very liberal when it comes to those poker machines. I might walk away with lots of money, but only if I risk losing a great deal of it too, something I'm not willing to chance.
Unfortunately, much the same way as alcoholics have a hard time staying away from alcohol, compulsive gamblers can't stay away from VLTs. Addiction is a powerful thing, it seems. Even in the absence of any ingested chemical, people get addicted to playing poker machines as other people do to hard drugs, and I would venture to say that, in this province, it ruins just as many lives.
We all know someone who, while they can't afford to make their car payment, can be found on payday pumping cash into a machine at the tavern. Or someone who has blown their whole paycheque and now can't afford to buy groceries. Or, even worse, the person who asks you to borrow twenty bucks under the guise of buying diapers, only to blow it in five minutes in an attempt to win more. I feel bad for a great majority of these people, who meet a VLT at every corner, and who have been falsely led to believe that great riches will come their way, if they just put in one more dollar.
Because, you see, that's the problem with VLTs. At bingo, when the night is over, it's over. But with VLTs, the promise of a big jackpot may be just a few dollars away, as indicated on the screen right in front of you. As soon as the "sorry, game over" message flashes, the row of 7s, the straight flush, or whatever the big winner might be, immediately follows it on the screen. It says, even if only subliminally, "you may have lost that time, but look at what could happen if you play again."
Problem gamblers account for more than half of net VLT revenues, according to Statistics Nova Scotia. Those same statistics show that these machines account for 75% of the Atlantic Lotto Corporation's net revenue, and that they have generated more than three hundred million dollars in revenue for the Atlantic provinces. So what is more likely, that the government is going to do all it can to prevent people from developing an addiction to gambling, starting with reducing the number of machines available to these gambling addicts? Or that the government is too dependant on gaming revenues to be proactive in doing anything that discourages people from handing their money over to the coffers? Constituents are gambling their paycheques and their lives away, and the government is not aggressively addressing one of the main problems, the presence of these machines at every turn.
The Nova Scotia government currently licenses over 2300 VLTs to taverns and bars, not including another 500 licensed to First Nations communities, and countless others in the casinos. If this government actually wants problem gambling to decrease, they'll significantly reduce this number, and I mean very significantly. However, I'm not going to hold my breath.
For those of you playing devil's advocate, I agree that a gambling addiction is the responsibility of the person who has it, and not completely the fault of the government. An adult is charged with being accountable and solving personal problems as they arise, without passing blame. But it's not enough to say, "just don't play them" when a person has a physiological compulsion and sees a row of 20 machines while they're having lunch at a local tavern. Occasional gamblers will not take issue with a decrease in the number of available machines, and profits, whether it be to merchants or government, should be a lower priority than the well being of people who live here. A small sticker with the number to a gambling hotline isn't enough, and until opportunity is decreased, problem gambling in Nova Scotia will continue to the same extent as it is today.
I've never been much of a gambler. I never to go bingo, I don't buy lottery tickets, scratch tickets, or pull tickets, and I've only been to a casino twice. Another thing I don't do is play those VLTs.
Don't get me wrong, I have before. I've thrown in a few loonies here and there, but never much more than that. And I've always cashed out if my winnings reached more than ten dollars or so. I've just never been very liberal when it comes to those poker machines. I might walk away with lots of money, but only if I risk losing a great deal of it too, something I'm not willing to chance.
Unfortunately, much the same way as alcoholics have a hard time staying away from alcohol, compulsive gamblers can't stay away from VLTs. Addiction is a powerful thing, it seems. Even in the absence of any ingested chemical, people get addicted to playing poker machines as other people do to hard drugs, and I would venture to say that, in this province, it ruins just as many lives.
We all know someone who, while they can't afford to make their car payment, can be found on payday pumping cash into a machine at the tavern. Or someone who has blown their whole paycheque and now can't afford to buy groceries. Or, even worse, the person who asks you to borrow twenty bucks under the guise of buying diapers, only to blow it in five minutes in an attempt to win more. I feel bad for a great majority of these people, who meet a VLT at every corner, and who have been falsely led to believe that great riches will come their way, if they just put in one more dollar.
Because, you see, that's the problem with VLTs. At bingo, when the night is over, it's over. But with VLTs, the promise of a big jackpot may be just a few dollars away, as indicated on the screen right in front of you. As soon as the "sorry, game over" message flashes, the row of 7s, the straight flush, or whatever the big winner might be, immediately follows it on the screen. It says, even if only subliminally, "you may have lost that time, but look at what could happen if you play again."
Problem gamblers account for more than half of net VLT revenues, according to Statistics Nova Scotia. Those same statistics show that these machines account for 75% of the Atlantic Lotto Corporation's net revenue, and that they have generated more than three hundred million dollars in revenue for the Atlantic provinces. So what is more likely, that the government is going to do all it can to prevent people from developing an addiction to gambling, starting with reducing the number of machines available to these gambling addicts? Or that the government is too dependant on gaming revenues to be proactive in doing anything that discourages people from handing their money over to the coffers? Constituents are gambling their paycheques and their lives away, and the government is not aggressively addressing one of the main problems, the presence of these machines at every turn.
The Nova Scotia government currently licenses over 2300 VLTs to taverns and bars, not including another 500 licensed to First Nations communities, and countless others in the casinos. If this government actually wants problem gambling to decrease, they'll significantly reduce this number, and I mean very significantly. However, I'm not going to hold my breath.
For those of you playing devil's advocate, I agree that a gambling addiction is the responsibility of the person who has it, and not completely the fault of the government. An adult is charged with being accountable and solving personal problems as they arise, without passing blame. But it's not enough to say, "just don't play them" when a person has a physiological compulsion and sees a row of 20 machines while they're having lunch at a local tavern. Occasional gamblers will not take issue with a decrease in the number of available machines, and profits, whether it be to merchants or government, should be a lower priority than the well being of people who live here. A small sticker with the number to a gambling hotline isn't enough, and until opportunity is decreased, problem gambling in Nova Scotia will continue to the same extent as it is today.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
The Unfortunate Politics of Politics
So much for my promise to refrain from writing about politics. Sorry, Dad.
I may not have been a holy terror, but I, like most, didn't exactly exhibit model behavior while in my teens. How Friday night at the pool hall in 1995 might affect what Frank Magazine might say about me in 20 years if I ran for office, wasn't exactly a consideration for me at the time. I'd be hard pressed to find a person who doesn't have something in their past they'd rather forget, let alone someone who had been groomed since birth to successfully withstand the scrutiny that comes with a position in public office.
Even though I am not American, I can appreciate the importance of the person calling the shots for our closest neighbor, largest trading partner, strongest ally, and biggest influence. I watch American news on a regular basis, and from the outside looking in, as a person with no Democratic or Republican affiliation, I like to absorb as much of the election coverage as I can. I may not be eligible to vote there, nor does my input affect any particular campaign, but I fully support, in an idealistic sense, Senator Obama's candidacy.
Looking at the three active campaigns, Obama's is being presented in a completely different way than the others', perhaps differently than any other campaign has been in the past quarter century. While he takes a distinctive Democratic position on most issues, the tone of his message sets him apart from the other, more traditional politicians. He has an air of hope, and of possibility. When he speaks, he doesn't come off as a phony vote-hunter, spewing typical rhetoric through over-bleached teeth. Rather, his vision of bipartisan unification appears to be sincere and enthusiastic, in an attempt to inspire the people he hopes to serve. I truly believe his foremost priority is to fix what is broken within a country he loves, not to promote an agenda and run a self-serving administration, which is the usual motivation behind a campaign for the Presidency. In my eleven years as a registered voter in Canada, I've participated in elections out of a sense of obligation. Barack Obama is the first politician whose rise to power is exciting to me, and if I were a U.S. citizen, not only would I be the first in line when the polls open, but I'd be out campaigning for him as well.
Yet, even with such revered intelligence, foresight, and leadership capabilities, Obama still has to endure the petty nit-picking and media manhandling notorious in the American political arena. Recently, controversial internet video clips of his former long-time pastor surfaced, and the controversy is hurting the Obama campaign. This pastor, Reverend Wright, made critical and uncomplimentary remarks about U.S. domestic and foreign policy, and the state of racism in America, among other things. Because Obama has attended Rev. Wright's church for decades and didn't storm out in defiance after finding out the pastor held different views, Obama is being accused of holding the same beliefs as Wright, and supporters and critics alike are demanding apologies, resignations, and everything in between. Obama gave a speech last week in an effort to address the situation, but the issue doesn't seem to want to go away.
Senator Obama never publicly supported the views of Rev. Wright, nor has he made any remarks of the same nature. But because CNN and MSNBC and the Clinton camp don't have any actual scandal to throw at him, Obama now has to defend himself against allegations of racism and un-patriotism, based solely on the opinions and statements of a third party. What if the pastor had screamed from the pulpit that the sky is green? Should Obama have been expected to run out of mass, knowing that Rev. Wright's view of sky color in 1994 would raise accusations of Obama's colorblindness and negatively affect his Presidential image in 2008?
The politics of politics is unreasonable at times. Rational thought tells us that Obama, or any other politician, will possess the same knowledge and capabilities regardless of long-past opinions of their friends and associates. Pastor Wright's controversial sermons should no sooner come back to haunt Obama than a freshman sip of peach schnapps should haunt Hillary Clinton.
It seems a terrible shame that someone with the potential to make great leadership strides, might very well be brought down by Hollywood-type scandal and have his talents go to waste.
When it comes to politics, the motto seems to be, "if you can't beat 'em, spin irrelevant drama into national controversy to make 'em look bad and get ahead of 'em."
I may not have been a holy terror, but I, like most, didn't exactly exhibit model behavior while in my teens. How Friday night at the pool hall in 1995 might affect what Frank Magazine might say about me in 20 years if I ran for office, wasn't exactly a consideration for me at the time. I'd be hard pressed to find a person who doesn't have something in their past they'd rather forget, let alone someone who had been groomed since birth to successfully withstand the scrutiny that comes with a position in public office.
Even though I am not American, I can appreciate the importance of the person calling the shots for our closest neighbor, largest trading partner, strongest ally, and biggest influence. I watch American news on a regular basis, and from the outside looking in, as a person with no Democratic or Republican affiliation, I like to absorb as much of the election coverage as I can. I may not be eligible to vote there, nor does my input affect any particular campaign, but I fully support, in an idealistic sense, Senator Obama's candidacy.
Looking at the three active campaigns, Obama's is being presented in a completely different way than the others', perhaps differently than any other campaign has been in the past quarter century. While he takes a distinctive Democratic position on most issues, the tone of his message sets him apart from the other, more traditional politicians. He has an air of hope, and of possibility. When he speaks, he doesn't come off as a phony vote-hunter, spewing typical rhetoric through over-bleached teeth. Rather, his vision of bipartisan unification appears to be sincere and enthusiastic, in an attempt to inspire the people he hopes to serve. I truly believe his foremost priority is to fix what is broken within a country he loves, not to promote an agenda and run a self-serving administration, which is the usual motivation behind a campaign for the Presidency. In my eleven years as a registered voter in Canada, I've participated in elections out of a sense of obligation. Barack Obama is the first politician whose rise to power is exciting to me, and if I were a U.S. citizen, not only would I be the first in line when the polls open, but I'd be out campaigning for him as well.
Yet, even with such revered intelligence, foresight, and leadership capabilities, Obama still has to endure the petty nit-picking and media manhandling notorious in the American political arena. Recently, controversial internet video clips of his former long-time pastor surfaced, and the controversy is hurting the Obama campaign. This pastor, Reverend Wright, made critical and uncomplimentary remarks about U.S. domestic and foreign policy, and the state of racism in America, among other things. Because Obama has attended Rev. Wright's church for decades and didn't storm out in defiance after finding out the pastor held different views, Obama is being accused of holding the same beliefs as Wright, and supporters and critics alike are demanding apologies, resignations, and everything in between. Obama gave a speech last week in an effort to address the situation, but the issue doesn't seem to want to go away.
Senator Obama never publicly supported the views of Rev. Wright, nor has he made any remarks of the same nature. But because CNN and MSNBC and the Clinton camp don't have any actual scandal to throw at him, Obama now has to defend himself against allegations of racism and un-patriotism, based solely on the opinions and statements of a third party. What if the pastor had screamed from the pulpit that the sky is green? Should Obama have been expected to run out of mass, knowing that Rev. Wright's view of sky color in 1994 would raise accusations of Obama's colorblindness and negatively affect his Presidential image in 2008?
The politics of politics is unreasonable at times. Rational thought tells us that Obama, or any other politician, will possess the same knowledge and capabilities regardless of long-past opinions of their friends and associates. Pastor Wright's controversial sermons should no sooner come back to haunt Obama than a freshman sip of peach schnapps should haunt Hillary Clinton.
It seems a terrible shame that someone with the potential to make great leadership strides, might very well be brought down by Hollywood-type scandal and have his talents go to waste.
When it comes to politics, the motto seems to be, "if you can't beat 'em, spin irrelevant drama into national controversy to make 'em look bad and get ahead of 'em."
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Top 10
I won't bother recapping Big Brother b/c the show is boring and I'm only watching it b/c I started it and feel obligated to finish until the season is over. Every now and then, I have the urge to jump through the screen and punch Chelsia in the face, but usually I don't care enough to even think about making the effort. Hopefully she'll be going home tonight, but my luck she'll win the whole thing.
*****************************************************************************
Girlicious quote of the week: "Beauty is a talent. I happen to have been born beautiful, but the talent part is in me remaining beautiful, which takes a bit of work. Not everyone can be as pretty as me, even if they try, so I consider beauty to be a talent for me." Or something to that effect. Whatever Natalie's exact words were, trust me, they were equally obnoxious and delusional. If you can believe it, I'm still watching "Girlicious". I know, no one is more shocked than me. Don't waste your time.
***********************************************************
I skipped my recap about last week's AI, mostly b/c I was bored of them milking the Lennon/MacCartney songbook, but also b/c last week was complete chaos in my house. At least that awful rocker chick went home, leaving a much more relevant top 10, who last night sang songs of the 80s.
A few short notes before I go on......first of all, whoever told Paula to wear those gloves should be fired. She looked like an extra from "Desperately Seeking Susan", and I was completely distracted. Not only that, but her incoherence is out of control lately. It was all funny ha-ha when she'd ramble for a second and not make any sense, but these days she isn't even able to string words into sentences, nor does she have any fluidity to her speech. It's all broken and choppy..."you know Ramiele...you just have...I'm not sure....your ability to leap...maybe not completely but...the colors of your voice...it's.....I don't know...keep....I think you're fantastic." Huh? Sit down, Paula. The grown ups are talking.
Also, I was thrilled that the music had such potential to be awesome, seeing as most of the contestants were born in the 80s (and since the theme was "Hit from the Year You Were Born"). I was SOOOOOOO disappointed that nobody took on anything by Debbie Gibson or Tiffany, or someone like that. It's the 80s people! There is so much to choose from, why settle on boring songs that nobody has ever heard of? Grrr, so frustrating.
One last thing....one contestant was born the same year as my husband graduated from high school, which he was horrified by, and which I found to be hilarious.
Ramiele - Awesome song, but silly girl, thinking she could sing it as well as Carrie Underwood (who did it on 80s night a few seasons ago). This girl has a fantastic voice, but she always picks the wrong song and doesn't appeal to as many viewers as she needs to. I'm sure she'll get through this week b/c she played the "I'm sick" card, but she doesn't have many more weeks left. And also, she was dressed like Olivia Newton John, which didn't earn her any points with me. My God this girl has no taste in fashion. Her singing position combined with her performance might land her in the bottom 3 tonight.
Brooke - I'm still not as big a fan of this girl as everyone else seems to be. Props to her for being pretty awesome on the piano, and for starting over when she found her pitch was off, and also for straightening her hair (HUGE improvement). I think she's the weakest vocalist (next to Kristy), but I know I'm in the minority. I'm just surprised Simon likes her so much.
Jason - His charm is wearing off, and fast. I think the screaming legions of girlie-girls will keep him there awhile, but his performances are getting stale, and his interviews are becoming painful. Needless to say, it seems as though he indulges in plenty of "feel-good herb" before he takes the stage. Nobody THAT socially incompetent would ever win American Idol, sorry girlie-girls.
Syesha - Even though this girl has a great voice, if she doesn't start picking better songs, she's going to be kicked off soon. Not that the songs she picks aren't great for her voice, but they're not familiar to anyone. And as we all know, since the American viewing public have the attention span of mosquitoes, they're not going to vote for some old, obscure 1987 sleeper tribute to motown just b/c she sang it well. Not going to happen.
Chikezie - Same deal. Nobody wants to hear old soul music. Move it along. Possibly bottom 3 tonight.
Michael Johns - Oh. My. God. Loved it. Love him. Great performance. He's very Michael Hutchence, mixed with Jim Morrison, mixed with a full 2 cups of sexy beast. Love him. He won't win, and I probably won't buy his album, but I'd probably go to his concert.
Carly - Every time I hear the song "Total Eclipse of the Heart" I think of Warren Fougere and how much he hates it. I'm not a fan either, and I wish Carly would have picked something else. That being said, have you ever tried to SING that song? I can tell you, it's not easy to sing it period, let alone to sing it well. She sang it well (with the exception of those few bum notes at the end), but she needs to step it up in order to win. I'm not impressed with her recent lack of progress.
David Archuleta - I actually knew that song he did last night, but Simon was right when he said David didn't pick it. David's DAD, the crazy pressure-demon who's now barred from going backstage at AI, I have a feeling he picked it. David sang it well-ish, but unless he pulls another "Imagine" out of his hat, he won't win, especially with the herd thinning and the competition getting more stiff all the time.
Kristy - She's not even relevant. I'm not sure if she'll go home tonight, but she'll certainly be in the bottom 3 again, and if not leaving tonight, within the next 2 weeks.
David Cook - I can already envision myself driving to WalMart and buying this guy's album. He's fantastic and talented and so intuitive in terms of what works and what doesn't, and he's moving ahead of Carly in my books. He might already be above her. Ya, he officially is, espeically after last night. I mean really, who else could have turned Michael Jackson's "Billy Jean" into a rock ballad, and done such an amazing job? Uh, hello! Nobody! I'm changing my vote from Carly to David Cook as the winner. Sorry Carly, your voice is better, but you're falling behind. Atta boy, David.
*****************************************************************************
Girlicious quote of the week: "Beauty is a talent. I happen to have been born beautiful, but the talent part is in me remaining beautiful, which takes a bit of work. Not everyone can be as pretty as me, even if they try, so I consider beauty to be a talent for me." Or something to that effect. Whatever Natalie's exact words were, trust me, they were equally obnoxious and delusional. If you can believe it, I'm still watching "Girlicious". I know, no one is more shocked than me. Don't waste your time.
***********************************************************
I skipped my recap about last week's AI, mostly b/c I was bored of them milking the Lennon/MacCartney songbook, but also b/c last week was complete chaos in my house. At least that awful rocker chick went home, leaving a much more relevant top 10, who last night sang songs of the 80s.
A few short notes before I go on......first of all, whoever told Paula to wear those gloves should be fired. She looked like an extra from "Desperately Seeking Susan", and I was completely distracted. Not only that, but her incoherence is out of control lately. It was all funny ha-ha when she'd ramble for a second and not make any sense, but these days she isn't even able to string words into sentences, nor does she have any fluidity to her speech. It's all broken and choppy..."you know Ramiele...you just have...I'm not sure....your ability to leap...maybe not completely but...the colors of your voice...it's.....I don't know...keep....I think you're fantastic." Huh? Sit down, Paula. The grown ups are talking.
Also, I was thrilled that the music had such potential to be awesome, seeing as most of the contestants were born in the 80s (and since the theme was "Hit from the Year You Were Born"). I was SOOOOOOO disappointed that nobody took on anything by Debbie Gibson or Tiffany, or someone like that. It's the 80s people! There is so much to choose from, why settle on boring songs that nobody has ever heard of? Grrr, so frustrating.
One last thing....one contestant was born the same year as my husband graduated from high school, which he was horrified by, and which I found to be hilarious.
Ramiele - Awesome song, but silly girl, thinking she could sing it as well as Carrie Underwood (who did it on 80s night a few seasons ago). This girl has a fantastic voice, but she always picks the wrong song and doesn't appeal to as many viewers as she needs to. I'm sure she'll get through this week b/c she played the "I'm sick" card, but she doesn't have many more weeks left. And also, she was dressed like Olivia Newton John, which didn't earn her any points with me. My God this girl has no taste in fashion. Her singing position combined with her performance might land her in the bottom 3 tonight.
Brooke - I'm still not as big a fan of this girl as everyone else seems to be. Props to her for being pretty awesome on the piano, and for starting over when she found her pitch was off, and also for straightening her hair (HUGE improvement). I think she's the weakest vocalist (next to Kristy), but I know I'm in the minority. I'm just surprised Simon likes her so much.
Jason - His charm is wearing off, and fast. I think the screaming legions of girlie-girls will keep him there awhile, but his performances are getting stale, and his interviews are becoming painful. Needless to say, it seems as though he indulges in plenty of "feel-good herb" before he takes the stage. Nobody THAT socially incompetent would ever win American Idol, sorry girlie-girls.
Syesha - Even though this girl has a great voice, if she doesn't start picking better songs, she's going to be kicked off soon. Not that the songs she picks aren't great for her voice, but they're not familiar to anyone. And as we all know, since the American viewing public have the attention span of mosquitoes, they're not going to vote for some old, obscure 1987 sleeper tribute to motown just b/c she sang it well. Not going to happen.
Chikezie - Same deal. Nobody wants to hear old soul music. Move it along. Possibly bottom 3 tonight.
Michael Johns - Oh. My. God. Loved it. Love him. Great performance. He's very Michael Hutchence, mixed with Jim Morrison, mixed with a full 2 cups of sexy beast. Love him. He won't win, and I probably won't buy his album, but I'd probably go to his concert.
Carly - Every time I hear the song "Total Eclipse of the Heart" I think of Warren Fougere and how much he hates it. I'm not a fan either, and I wish Carly would have picked something else. That being said, have you ever tried to SING that song? I can tell you, it's not easy to sing it period, let alone to sing it well. She sang it well (with the exception of those few bum notes at the end), but she needs to step it up in order to win. I'm not impressed with her recent lack of progress.
David Archuleta - I actually knew that song he did last night, but Simon was right when he said David didn't pick it. David's DAD, the crazy pressure-demon who's now barred from going backstage at AI, I have a feeling he picked it. David sang it well-ish, but unless he pulls another "Imagine" out of his hat, he won't win, especially with the herd thinning and the competition getting more stiff all the time.
Kristy - She's not even relevant. I'm not sure if she'll go home tonight, but she'll certainly be in the bottom 3 again, and if not leaving tonight, within the next 2 weeks.
David Cook - I can already envision myself driving to WalMart and buying this guy's album. He's fantastic and talented and so intuitive in terms of what works and what doesn't, and he's moving ahead of Carly in my books. He might already be above her. Ya, he officially is, espeically after last night. I mean really, who else could have turned Michael Jackson's "Billy Jean" into a rock ballad, and done such an amazing job? Uh, hello! Nobody! I'm changing my vote from Carly to David Cook as the winner. Sorry Carly, your voice is better, but you're falling behind. Atta boy, David.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Serenity Now
George Costanza said it best when he bellowed, "Serenity Now!" That is a mantra, almost a prayer, for when things get to be too much. When a situation is so overwhelming and stressful that you throw your hands up and want to scream. And never could it be more appropriate than when you're in the throes of home renovation.
Tearing your house apart in an effort to beautify seems like a good idea at the time, but it's a lot like baking a cheesecake; the visions of the end result override common sense and practicality, and before you know it you're covered in flour (or drywall residue) and wondering what ever possessed you to get started with this nonsense in the first place. Especially when you want Oreo cheesecake and your husband wants pina colada. Or in my case, when I want "Martha Stewart Living" and my husband's taste gravitates more toward "set of Miami Vice".
Luckily, many of the big things were already done when we moved in. The kitchen was complete (with the exception of a Polmolive-green tile backsplash which I'm currently negotiating. Trust me, it will be spectacular.), as was the dining room, and the flooring in the living room and hallway. The kids' rooms were a snap decision-wise, since Lightning McQueen reigns supreme in our lives, and army decor was the obvious choice for our older boy. But even though we didn't spend much time pondering the theme for each room, that didn't make the work any easier.
It was decided that I would take the kids out for the day while he completed room number one. God knows, I didn't want little three year old fingers to find their way around a tile cutting saw, and with a kid who constantly wants to be with his daddy, leaving the house altogether made the whole thing easier on all of us. Room number two required the same evacuation, only this time my husband came to find the carpet had been nailed to the floor, thanks to the infinite genius of previous contractors. Over three hundred nails, two nights of a wormy toddler sleeping in our bed, and plenty of colorful language later, the kids rooms were done. Now we were onto our main battlegrounds, which were the living room and master bedroom.
Round 1: The living room. Flooring excluded, the entire space had to be changed cosmetically. There is nothing more frustrating than explaining the subtle differences between burnt almond and chocolate milkshake taupe to someone who really and truly only sees beige. At the same time, I'm about as qualified to roam unsupervised around a hardware store as he would be at a makeup counter. So somewhere between my need for symmetry, clean lines, and faux-suede drapes with grommets, and his leaning toward vertical blinds, curio cabinets, and "I don't care, just hurry up and decide", we reached a compromise including dark brown panels with valances for the windows, baseboards and crown moldings, some well placed accessories, and a few plants, without a bit of scalloped lace to be found. Don't get me wrong, it looks absolutely beautiful and I love it, but the process wasn't without it's many outbursts of "Serenity Now."
Round 2: The master bedroom. This project was not a priority for me, not only because we're the only people who see it, but also because it was so far gone, I didn't quite know where to start. But apparently my complaining about how much I loathed our out-of-date room wore him down, and a bedroom makeover was my husband's wonderful birthday surprise. And by wonderful, I mean appreciated yet tedious and painful for him. I should mention, our entire room was covered with layer after layer of 75 thousand year old wallpaper. You may shudder and gasp, because I know he did. From 8:00 Saturday morning, he and the kids (and me, sporadically) ripped and soaked and scrubbed and scraped and wished death upon the people who put up the wallpaper, and all wallpaper makers in general. Of course considering the mess we were making, our massive Victorian style wooden headboard, along with the boxspring and mattress from our queen sized bed, had to be moved into the hallway, where it sat for two days obstructing traffic, while the smaller contents of our room bled into every other room in the house, making the MacDonald residence look alarmingly like Ground Zero. By Sunday night, the wallpaper was but a distant and horrible memory, and I had a brand new bedroom. My husband chose expressions other than "Serenity Now", and I can't say I blame him.
I'll leave you with this advice: don't renovate unless and until you absolutely have to. I say this as I prepare to tackle our biggest project, the bathroom.
Serenity now.
Tearing your house apart in an effort to beautify seems like a good idea at the time, but it's a lot like baking a cheesecake; the visions of the end result override common sense and practicality, and before you know it you're covered in flour (or drywall residue) and wondering what ever possessed you to get started with this nonsense in the first place. Especially when you want Oreo cheesecake and your husband wants pina colada. Or in my case, when I want "Martha Stewart Living" and my husband's taste gravitates more toward "set of Miami Vice".
Luckily, many of the big things were already done when we moved in. The kitchen was complete (with the exception of a Polmolive-green tile backsplash which I'm currently negotiating. Trust me, it will be spectacular.), as was the dining room, and the flooring in the living room and hallway. The kids' rooms were a snap decision-wise, since Lightning McQueen reigns supreme in our lives, and army decor was the obvious choice for our older boy. But even though we didn't spend much time pondering the theme for each room, that didn't make the work any easier.
It was decided that I would take the kids out for the day while he completed room number one. God knows, I didn't want little three year old fingers to find their way around a tile cutting saw, and with a kid who constantly wants to be with his daddy, leaving the house altogether made the whole thing easier on all of us. Room number two required the same evacuation, only this time my husband came to find the carpet had been nailed to the floor, thanks to the infinite genius of previous contractors. Over three hundred nails, two nights of a wormy toddler sleeping in our bed, and plenty of colorful language later, the kids rooms were done. Now we were onto our main battlegrounds, which were the living room and master bedroom.
Round 1: The living room. Flooring excluded, the entire space had to be changed cosmetically. There is nothing more frustrating than explaining the subtle differences between burnt almond and chocolate milkshake taupe to someone who really and truly only sees beige. At the same time, I'm about as qualified to roam unsupervised around a hardware store as he would be at a makeup counter. So somewhere between my need for symmetry, clean lines, and faux-suede drapes with grommets, and his leaning toward vertical blinds, curio cabinets, and "I don't care, just hurry up and decide", we reached a compromise including dark brown panels with valances for the windows, baseboards and crown moldings, some well placed accessories, and a few plants, without a bit of scalloped lace to be found. Don't get me wrong, it looks absolutely beautiful and I love it, but the process wasn't without it's many outbursts of "Serenity Now."
Round 2: The master bedroom. This project was not a priority for me, not only because we're the only people who see it, but also because it was so far gone, I didn't quite know where to start. But apparently my complaining about how much I loathed our out-of-date room wore him down, and a bedroom makeover was my husband's wonderful birthday surprise. And by wonderful, I mean appreciated yet tedious and painful for him. I should mention, our entire room was covered with layer after layer of 75 thousand year old wallpaper. You may shudder and gasp, because I know he did. From 8:00 Saturday morning, he and the kids (and me, sporadically) ripped and soaked and scrubbed and scraped and wished death upon the people who put up the wallpaper, and all wallpaper makers in general. Of course considering the mess we were making, our massive Victorian style wooden headboard, along with the boxspring and mattress from our queen sized bed, had to be moved into the hallway, where it sat for two days obstructing traffic, while the smaller contents of our room bled into every other room in the house, making the MacDonald residence look alarmingly like Ground Zero. By Sunday night, the wallpaper was but a distant and horrible memory, and I had a brand new bedroom. My husband chose expressions other than "Serenity Now", and I can't say I blame him.
I'll leave you with this advice: don't renovate unless and until you absolutely have to. I say this as I prepare to tackle our biggest project, the bathroom.
Serenity now.
Friday, March 14, 2008
Enough Already
As I write this, it's storming like crazy, and the slippery roads have deprived me of the daily "pick up milk, get some gas" solo excursion that I have come to rely on. I have firmly decided that I have had it up to here (envision my hand a foot above my head) with winter.
Go ahead, I dare you to call me a sooky baby. I double dare you to give me the "it's Cape Breton, deal with it" speech. Because in my 29 short years on this planet, it may surprise you how much winter I've actually experienced.
I remember being a kid in River Bourgeois and jumping off our roof into the snow, since the only things taller than the snowbanks were houses and utility poles. And I remember walking through four feet of snow, standing at the bus stop while my face was lambasted with ice pellets, and the drive to school was like a scene from "Tokyo Drift." It may not be equal to our grandparents' "walking to school uphill both ways in a blizzard", but some mornings it was close.
But beyond any childhood flashback, or any Nova Scotian winter lament, is the horrible memory of "the North". As many of you know, I spent a few years living and working in the Arctic.
Have you ever seen the movie "The Day After Tomorrow" with Dennis Quaid? That movie showed the earth moving into another Ice Age at -75 degrees, and the planet froze over. Well, I can tell you with absolute certainty that something like that couldn't happen, because the day I left Qikiqtarjuaq (have fun pronouncing that), it was -72 degrees with the windchill. That is not a tall tale or an exaggeration. Absorb that for a moment. Think about people's reaction to -25 degrees, and then imagine having to deal with -72. I can tell you, it's not comfortable. And it's not even the same kind of cold we get in Cape Breton, it's a mind-numbing, bitter, bone-marrow-covered-in-icicles kind of cold that you have to feel to believe.
Here's an example: you know how you go outside in December with wet hair and it freezes and gets hard? Well that happens in Nunavut, too. Only it happens when your hair is DRY, and it also freezes your eyelashes and nose hairs. Word to the wise: never underestimate a 30 second frostbite warning.
In Qikiqtarjuaq, winter was almost year round. There were a few months that weren't AS cold, but even in August, I woke up to a huge, Titanic-calibre iceberg floating in the water near my house. When the "warm" weather came, we were all sporting tshirts and panting and sweating, and it was only about 12 degrees. The day it hit 19 was almost more than we could handle.
Then you have to consider the darkness. At a latitude that high, winter is almost 24 hour a day darkness. There is an hour or so in the afternoon when the sun rises slightly enough to give the horizon the appearance of dusk, but that's it, and for months. I don't know about you, but no amount of Vitamin D capsules can replace a day of sunlight for me. It was depressing. And I didn't just see this once, I was there for a few years.
So now, can we safely say that I've endured more than my fair share of winter? Haven't I made my case for the right to complain a little?
There are others living in the Strait area who have also dealt with many Nunavut winters, and these people, myself included, are the first to scoff at Nova Scotian complainers. Normally, I'm the first one to say "suck it up, it's not that bad", and in comparison, it's not. But still, that doesn't mean I don't get sick of it, especially at this time of year. It's the tease of spring that kills me. One day, it's 15 degrees and the sun is splitting the rocks outside. The next day, like today, my heat is cranked, and I can't even see across the road for the blowing snow. Make up your mind, Mother Nature! Is it over, or isn't it? Can we break out the bicycles or do we need mittens at the ready? I need some consistency here! Haven't I done enough winter already?
My luck, the day this goes to print it will be a balmy 20 degrees and every reader will be wondering why I'm ranting and raving at such nice weather. But don't say I didn't warn you. Cindy Day, with her Shirley Temple ringlets, red lipstick & "I love snow" attitude, is sure to curse us once more before the season is over. And when that happens, you'll all be echoing my sentiments, trust me.
NOTE*** I wrote this last Wednesday when it was storming in Port Hawkesbury...just so you all know, it was bad out a few days after that, again yesterday, and we're supposed to get up to 40cm of snow again in the next few days. It's Cindy Day, I'm telling you. She's a witch.
Go ahead, I dare you to call me a sooky baby. I double dare you to give me the "it's Cape Breton, deal with it" speech. Because in my 29 short years on this planet, it may surprise you how much winter I've actually experienced.
I remember being a kid in River Bourgeois and jumping off our roof into the snow, since the only things taller than the snowbanks were houses and utility poles. And I remember walking through four feet of snow, standing at the bus stop while my face was lambasted with ice pellets, and the drive to school was like a scene from "Tokyo Drift." It may not be equal to our grandparents' "walking to school uphill both ways in a blizzard", but some mornings it was close.
But beyond any childhood flashback, or any Nova Scotian winter lament, is the horrible memory of "the North". As many of you know, I spent a few years living and working in the Arctic.
Have you ever seen the movie "The Day After Tomorrow" with Dennis Quaid? That movie showed the earth moving into another Ice Age at -75 degrees, and the planet froze over. Well, I can tell you with absolute certainty that something like that couldn't happen, because the day I left Qikiqtarjuaq (have fun pronouncing that), it was -72 degrees with the windchill. That is not a tall tale or an exaggeration. Absorb that for a moment. Think about people's reaction to -25 degrees, and then imagine having to deal with -72. I can tell you, it's not comfortable. And it's not even the same kind of cold we get in Cape Breton, it's a mind-numbing, bitter, bone-marrow-covered-in-icicles kind of cold that you have to feel to believe.
Here's an example: you know how you go outside in December with wet hair and it freezes and gets hard? Well that happens in Nunavut, too. Only it happens when your hair is DRY, and it also freezes your eyelashes and nose hairs. Word to the wise: never underestimate a 30 second frostbite warning.
In Qikiqtarjuaq, winter was almost year round. There were a few months that weren't AS cold, but even in August, I woke up to a huge, Titanic-calibre iceberg floating in the water near my house. When the "warm" weather came, we were all sporting tshirts and panting and sweating, and it was only about 12 degrees. The day it hit 19 was almost more than we could handle.
Then you have to consider the darkness. At a latitude that high, winter is almost 24 hour a day darkness. There is an hour or so in the afternoon when the sun rises slightly enough to give the horizon the appearance of dusk, but that's it, and for months. I don't know about you, but no amount of Vitamin D capsules can replace a day of sunlight for me. It was depressing. And I didn't just see this once, I was there for a few years.
So now, can we safely say that I've endured more than my fair share of winter? Haven't I made my case for the right to complain a little?
There are others living in the Strait area who have also dealt with many Nunavut winters, and these people, myself included, are the first to scoff at Nova Scotian complainers. Normally, I'm the first one to say "suck it up, it's not that bad", and in comparison, it's not. But still, that doesn't mean I don't get sick of it, especially at this time of year. It's the tease of spring that kills me. One day, it's 15 degrees and the sun is splitting the rocks outside. The next day, like today, my heat is cranked, and I can't even see across the road for the blowing snow. Make up your mind, Mother Nature! Is it over, or isn't it? Can we break out the bicycles or do we need mittens at the ready? I need some consistency here! Haven't I done enough winter already?
My luck, the day this goes to print it will be a balmy 20 degrees and every reader will be wondering why I'm ranting and raving at such nice weather. But don't say I didn't warn you. Cindy Day, with her Shirley Temple ringlets, red lipstick & "I love snow" attitude, is sure to curse us once more before the season is over. And when that happens, you'll all be echoing my sentiments, trust me.
NOTE*** I wrote this last Wednesday when it was storming in Port Hawkesbury...just so you all know, it was bad out a few days after that, again yesterday, and we're supposed to get up to 40cm of snow again in the next few days. It's Cindy Day, I'm telling you. She's a witch.
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