WOW! I'm Time's Person of the Year. WOW! I'm flabbergasted! Well, truthfully I should say I am not really all that surprised. Like it's not right outta the blue because let's face it I do do a lot. Really, when you consider all my accomplishments, who else could they pick. But still, I do want to thank some people. First and foremost I want to thank our heavenly father, God. I don't have an agent or any sort of representation, but if I did I would be thanking them. Of course, the publishers of Time magazine, thank you for recognizing my many achievments over the year -- it's good to be appreciated, but on this level, wow again! Thanks to my wonderful family for being the main recipient of my accomplishments. (Many of you are probably thinking wow, she is classy to thank her family for what she has done. YAH, hence the Person of the Year award). And thank you to you, Dear Reader (again classssss-y because what have you got to do with it, really?)

Nucular

I saw your President on tv this morning and he said "nucular" about 15 times. But this morning, instead of marvelling at how far the Yale education has fallen like I usually do, this morning I thought it actually said something about the man.

He has been corrected countless times in the press, even ridiculed about his mispronounciation of that word. Mocked, I'd say in some circles, not mentioning any names, okay David Letterman, for six long, long, really, really long years, and yet he persists.

Despite the critics and the naysayers, he has stayed the goddam course of lousy diction.

I gots me a new favourite teevee show

30 Rock, baby!

Thir-tay rock. Mr. Alec Bladwin makes me weep with artistic and comedic
appreciation. If you missed it, you're a fuckup! Naw, not really, but kinda.
Kay, so watch it next time. It is fantastic, and trust me I have good taste. (I'm the one who suggested installing an Easy Bake oven in your computer)

Some Suggestions for Improving the Modern Computer

1. (I am getting tired of saying this so now I have to shout it. That's right, compunerds, your complete and total lack of progress in this area has forced me to put my finger on the caps lock button. I am not joking around.) FIND A WAY TO GET MY COMPUTER TO DISPENSE SOFT DRINKS.

2. On the topic of food, please, please, please work with the people at Mattel to install some sort of Easy Bake oven into the next generation of computers. I have several drives that I am not currently using and would appreciate it if I could slide a small cake pan in one of them while I am working. Ten minutes later, ding! There's cake. I could also accept a toaster oven; something that'll do a mini pizza or a bagel. I am frankly surprised, given the rotund nature of some in the "tech" field, that this has not already been developed.

3. Do something about the names of these websites. When I type in something like "hard candy" I expect to be taken to a website related to actual candy.

4. A make up mirror would also make a nice addition.

5. Some of these keys on the keyboard are absolutely useless. I already have one F key, I do not need any additional F keys, let alone 10. Duh! Honestly, what are you people smoking? Scroll Lock? Never heard of it, have no idea what it does, never will. It goes!

6. Make they keyboard self-cleaning. Nothing fancy, just a couple of Dr. Seuss type hands that come out and sweep up crumbs.

7. Change the "helpful"-It-looks-like-you're-writing-a-letter paperclip to one Mr. Johnny Depp.

8. Change the "start up" music to a voice that says "You're soooooo prettty!". That's just good for everyone's self esteem.

Isn't String Theory such a tantalizing idea. Imagine the possibilities of many different dimensions existing simultaeously, with many different yous in each one.

For sure in String A it turns out I did make it past the security guard at the studio where they filmed 21 Jump Street, and Johnny Depp did not in fact look super freaked out when I pulled out my 240 page Ode to his beauty (inside and out people, I am not shallow like some of you). We were married later that day and live happily together in...what am I crazy, I cannot tell you where we live, one of your alternate dimension selves will show up and try to harass us. Nice try, Internet!

String B: Puppy world!

String c: Fame. I am super famous in this one, but in a different way. I am like a combination of Mother Theresa and Beyonce. So I divide my time between caring for the dying and producing hit records and performing super sexy dance numbers on tv. I am loved by millions, including Johnny Depp. See you really cannot screw with fate. Brad Pitt hits on me constantly, and while I do find him attractive, I cannot go for it because of my high moral principles and his performance in Meet Joe Black.

String D: Bought a Quiznos!

Big Brother

Well, it's down to the final two. I have to say, given the choice between Erica and the alternative, I am voting for the senior citizen lady. Erica seems like a very nice fellow, but I have always had a spot in my heart for Maude. Go Bea Arthur! Grey Panthers all the way!

Of course I was sad to see Janelle go; and like all the others I spent so much time ridiculing, I, in the end, wanted to see Will kiss her. I found myself on the edge of the sofa yelling at the tv like the fellers do when they are watching a sporting event: "Yeeeessss, that's it, move closer. Good! Now take her hand, okay, good, gooooood, move in. Come on, you're Keith Partridge. Yawn and stretch! AW FUCKING Chicken George! Godammmmmit!" Intercepted. That's why I don't follow sports -- too frustrating.

And I am on the Will Kirby bandwagon. I may divorce my husband for Will Kirby and then start dating other guys just so I can dump them for Will Kirby.

Cut to my diary...

Mrs. Will Kirby
Mrs. William Kirby
Dr. and Mrs. W. Kirby

Duffland!

My eight year old son had a single objective: to buy every gun at Disneyland. It may surprise you to know that there are a total of seven guns for sale at Disneyland, and may not surprise you to learn that having nine guns in your suitcases makes for some good times at security screening.

You will encounter punk rockers at Disneyland, and, while not an expert in these matters, it does seem that getting into a whiny fight in line at the gift shop with your mom and grandma about how many Pirates of The Caribbean skulls you can buy with your Disney Bucks could negatively affect your streed cred.

There truly is a seamy underisde to Duffland, and I would say it's mildew. Every single water ride had a funny smell. I was wearing white pants, got splashed on the Pirates of the Carribbean ride and the water left yellowish stains on my pants. That was kinda punk rock.

All roads lead to the gift shop. No exceptions.

The only people riding motorized scooters were people who looked like they could have used a good long walk. Like really long. Say around the Earth twice. Jared, rock on!

Eight year old boys are way too cool to have their pictures taken with Lilo and Stitch, but their moms aren't! And it was all fun and games until Stitch tried to cop a feel. You can't tell me you have absolutely no feeling in those giant plushie hands.

Like Nature,

I, too, abhor a vacuum.

So, I bought a Roomba! It's a li'l robot that vacuums my carpet and sweeps my floors. And no, I do not have shares in the company, but I might get some one day.

And yes, you can put that in your pipe and smoke it, hippie.

Great News for Stephen Harper

And I mean that sarcastically.

Turns out that he has even more competition to be George Bush's best friend. George Bush has pretty much said that The Prime Minister of Japan is his second best friend, what with his recording an album of his favourite Elvis songs and everything. So, now Stephen has to battle it out with Vincente Fox for third best friend, when everyone knows he was really trying for BFF.

I just know at the next G8, Stephen is going to be expecting George to save a seat for him at his table, and George is going to be all "oh, sorry Steven, but Tony got here first." You know, trying to make it out like it was Stephen. So then Steph's going to have to be all "oh, that's okay, I was just coming over to say hi, but I am supposed to be sitting with Norway." And then Tony kinda stiffles a laugh, because he can be a real jerk about stuff like that, and Tony chimes in with "Oh when did Norway go G8?" Typical Brit, all sarcastic and everything.

The Stephen pretends he has a super important IM to answer and uses it as an excuse to leave.

If that doesn't make you cry, I don't know what will.

The Blowout

In our twenties, my friends and I were kinda hip, and so, for some reason, presumably as some sort of by-product of Canadian hipness, we could necer use the actual name for anything and so instead, someone, usually me, (because I was one of the worst offenders) had to come up with some sort of name that was usually meant to be used in a funny way (like saying "groovy" in 1985 for example, which I personally think I resurected from the dead, but I digress.

No, right now I am talking about the word BLOWOUT, which means "party" , big warehouse party but, given the times and our ages was pretty much crappy bachelor suite apartment party.

Doesn't the name imply loud music, lots of alcohol and some smashing of things? In reality, blowouts were usually held by one guy, in his apartment, with the stereo solidly set at three, an assortment of "appetizers" like mini quiches (it was the 80s)and hummus (in the 80s, see I told you we were hip), with Dan scurrying around with a garbage bag tied around his waist for easy trash disposal. Invariably, someone would get into a fight about strippers, and the passive aggressive guy would "accidentally" knock over a the dining table. The irony of the name vs. the experience was not lost on me.

Yeah, but like I said, we called it a blowout.

Unfair Fact of Life #76

No woman really considers it sexual harassment if she thinks the guy is hot. Best case: she finds it flattering; worst case it's a cute annoyance.

Slap an extra 20 years and sixty pounds on the feller; add one comb-over and whammo, you've got yourself a lawsuit.

I'm just saying.

Web TV Users UNITE!

Remember seeing things like this, on the internet, a few years ago:

I AM A WEB TV USER AND CANNOT MAKE PARAGRAPHS.

Then the person would go on and on in their free form, no-paragraph prose.

Apparently, there must have been criticism about Josephine Web TVUser's big ol' page of all caps text because she always felt the need to preface everything with that caveat. There she was, sitting on her hideaway couch in her double wide, and one day she decides she's going to get on the internet, and some asshole somewhere convinces her that WEB TV is the wave of the future. And she's not very wordly in such matters, plus the price is right, so she buys it. And on that day, that fateful day, she wasn't aware she was dooming herself to a lifetime of paragraphless forum posts, and the harsh, harsh world of the internet critic.

Will you not weep for Josephine?

True Confession

I do not know when I am "about to rock". And, like "partying", I am not even sure I am doing it when I am doing it. If in fact I am doing it.

I think there may be alcohol involved. Sure I can drink, but not like these 72 hour weekend partier boozers. That I cannot do. I don't like other people's company that much.

Way, way down this list I wrote a thing about how you know when you are "kicking back", but even that I was totally faking because I am not 100% sure about the kicking component. Is it necessary but not sufficient? Surely it can't just be the kicking because then I'd be kicking back every time I kick the dog and that doesn't sound right. (I don't really kick my dog, but thanks for thinking I did! sheesh)

If anyone ever figures it out, lemme know would you?

Nya nya nya nya (or neener, as you prefer)

Your President is spying on your phone calls.

LAME!

Today is our 10th anniversary!

I'd say it was a day that marks 10 soul crushing, hope and dream dashing, tediously boring anguish-filled years, but I worry that that might sound negative.

Aww, I'm a kidder.

They weren't all bad.

Most isn't all!

wink

MY New Charitable Giving Policy:

I will not be giving any more money for cancer research until they find a cure.

That ought to light a fire under someone's ass.

Adam Sandler's wife had a baby...

can you imagine the number of goofy voices that child is going to be subjected to? I bet he's doing one right now.

What the Hell is David Blaine Doing?

A goddam fishbowl? I wish he had asked me because I could have told him my son has a fish in a bowl and he lost interest in it after about two days. Things in bowls are maybe better ideas on paper.

His hands are are pruny! Who here is surprised by that? How is he going tinky? I understand he is sucking Ensure out of a balloon, which is already revolting enough, but please tell me he is not peeing in his li'l bowl.

And he has that little sign board that he writes messages on and holds up. He's all "Help me; I am in great pain". Well frankly who believes these guys anyway? They lie for a living with all the "illusions" and "sleight of hand" and shit. Dude's cried wolf as it were one too many times.

Plus I read on my lamer Yahoo home page that Keith Richards had "head surgery"! About goddam time! What is head surgery though? Is it like brain surgery; did he have an aneurism or something?

Hey America

For me, that 911 movie is too soon. I find myself sobbing at the commercials. And I am not even an American.

I will say this that as much as your country pisses off my country sometimes, and it does, September 11th taught me that despite all the grumbling and complaining and the pettiness, that Canadians genuinely *love* Americans. Even if you act like jerks sometimes, which you do.

We love America like we love no other country. Bad things happen to other people in other countries, too. And as awful as that is, and as much as we want to help and do help, and as sympathetic as we feel towards those citizens, it doesn't affect us as deeply as September 11th did.

Several days after September 11th, 2001 Canada had, in its capital city, Ottawa, the largest public demonstration in Canadian history. It was to show support for America. The largest public demonstration in Canadian history. We all cried, and felt shocked and horrified and tremedously saddened, but I think at the root of the feeling there was something else, and it was that we, as a country, felt protective of the United States at its most vulnerable time.

Canadians frequently grumble about America, usually about her politicians and their policies. From September 11, 2001 until about a year after no one grumbled, complained, disparaged or even rolled an eye at anything American. No one said we should do this -- it was a collective, unconscious decision made by a country that quietly said "This is the side we are on". It may have, in some way, even come as a surprise to Canadians, just how strongly we supported and loved our big, brash, bossy, beautiful neighbour to the south.

That movie is kind of bringing it all back.

Poor Stephen Harper

I just felt really bad for him, you know, at that summit with Mr. Hip Vincente Fox and Mr. Cool George W. And there he was, the nerdy cousin, with the inappropriate cargo vest.

The film footage is sad, too, because you can see he is right in W's face the whole time. He TOTALLY wants to be best friends with him, but George is all, I am sorry brother, but I already have a best friend and his name is Tony Blair.

Great! Like how in the hell is Stephen Harper, cammo vest wearer from Canada ever going to hope to compete with Tony G-dam Blair, with the cool English accent. Are you trying to tell me that W. is not a Bond fan?! Because I won't believe it if you are. And Vincente and George are talking about quesadillas and salsa and Stephen Harper tries to chime in with something about how strong Canadian beer is, but no one really cares because they are tired of Canadians playing the "strong beer" card.

So then, to shup Stephen up, Vincente (and let's face it, he's kinda rubbing it in, with his closeness to George) says something about clubbing a baby seal over the head and all of a sudden it gets real quiet.

But still, I just feel bad for him though because his suitcase was probably filled with bottles of maple syrup and hockey trading cards and maybe a Hudson's Bay blanket and most people just aren't that impressed with that stuff. (They would rather have liquor and cigarettes from the duty free, I say that, if you're a traveller, just so you know.) Especially the leader of the free world. Like he's seen a lot of this stuff already. Maple syrup is no big whoop to him at all.

Stephen will keep on trying though. Count on that.

I am even awkward on the internet

Doesn't it seem like everyone on the internet knows each other?

Case in point:
You read someone's Blog post, and the comments always seem so familiar. Despite the seeming familiarity and out of a desperate need to "fit in", I chime in with my "witty" comment and then hit post and read it and surrounded by everyone else's funny and appropriate comments, mine, which seemed really funny at the time I wrote it in the typepad box, now seems not very funny and weirdly inappropriate. And I imagine the other commenters who really are all friends are reading it thinking "who is this suburby chick and why does she leave such weird comments?"

Plus what is it with being taken off someone's blogroll!

That has happened to me a lot. And I will tell you this -- it feeds right into my Imposter Syndrome problem. RIGHT INTO IT.

I have been taken off more Blogrolls than I have been put on.

Thanks a lot, Al Gore. Thank you very much.

Last Book Club was Chez Moi (that means 'at my house'. Well, why didn't you just say 'at my house' then?)

Please allow me to set the scene.

Me, your heroine, on death's doorstep as a result of what the doctor called a "fairly nasty looking sore throat". FAIRLY nasty. The prescription I had for an antibiotic did not stop me from fulfilling my obligations as Book Club hostess. Nor did it stop me from loading my fat ass into my small SUV (4 cylinder--not a gas pig!) to drive to M&M to buy food for the Book Club ingrates.

I will start by telling you that the book we reviewed was "A Million Little Pieces" by Mr. Street Cred according to his Mom, James Frey. The dude is almost as Street as Carson Daly.

I will tell you what I told the book club ladies. I liked the book a lot for the first 3/4 of it. Then I started to notice the phoniness and the uni-dimensionality of the supporting cast. And I admitted it took me until I was three-quarters of the way through to notice this!

I said I'd have the same problems with the characters if the book were sold as a novel.

The ladies all disagreed with me...they all loved it and argued that they didn't expect any actual truth from a memoir. What they expected was "his truth as he remembered it" "His version of the events". Just FYI, in my memoir I am going to remember I was Mrs. Johnny Depp and I created Linux.

What about truth on a book tour, where he's talking about all these things happening to him as having actually happened in interviews? Where journalists ask him what was it like to be in jail, etc. And he said stuff like "Oh man, jail is hard!" (Like he'd know!)

Their answer? Silence. Then 10 minutes later they start talking about how they haven't seen me be so bitchy before. Apparently holding a different point of view and expressing said p.o.v. and thinking that the truth matters makes one bitchy.

(Didn't anyone else have those great arguments in university that would go on and on over bottles of wine and people would be disagreeing like crazy and even yelling, but it was okay to have a different point of view, it was even kinda good to...anyone remember that?)

and then...

one bad, bad woman who I really don't know well, but that didn't seem to stop her from scarfing down my hot hors d'oeuvres said, smugly...

"Well, I'd like to know what you thought of the book BEFORE you heard that Oprah didn't like it".

And then, in my mind, I quit the book club. But not before I grabbed those goddam cream cheese and sundried tomato puffs out of her fat little hand. (also in my mind).

Agree with me, or the baby seal gets it!

As a Canadian you really have to keep your eye on me. I could start clubbing baby seals at any time.

I hate the seal hunt, but did you see Larry King last night? I didn't. The whole topic upsets me so much. But I did flip past a couple of times, forgetting it was on, and at one point I flipped past just as Larry was asking "Why do they have to club them?"

Fucked if I know!

Besides the absolute unmitigated fucking HORROR of the whole thing, it really makes Canadians look like sickos. It's like we are the crazy serial killer neighbour who always attended the summer block party and seemed so nice with his kids and his homemade donuts, then it turns out he's been doing horrible things in his basement for years and you didn't know about it until he was 5/O'd on t.v.

By goddam Paul McCartney of all people! Who, some people tell me was in a band before Wings.

My Yahoo Home Page

First question you may be asking yourself is what kind of loser has Yahoo for her home page. I do! How do you do. I am not saying it's perfect though. Take today's:

Item 1:
There's a picture of a dog with his beagle ears kind trick photography'd up, so he looks a bit like the Flying Nun. That's good.

Item 2:

A Clickable link to something about killer abs. When will this expression go away?

Item 3:

De rigeur pic of baby in sunglasses. COME ON!

Item 4:

A bunch of links to fantasy babeball and fantasy football. Look, I have enough problems with the real sports, I don't need the fantasy version along for the ride.

Item 4:

HotJobs, which can very easily be misread if you take my meaning and I think you do.

Item 5;

Yahoo Health -- with the obligatory picture of a smiling woman eating fresh fruit. Now that's healthy!

Item 6:

Oscars predictions. Are you fucking kidding me? I don't even know who's nominated.

Item 7;

News item about Madonna getting a hernia at the Grammys. For some reason that made me think of Martha Raye, denture wearer.

Item 8:

Buzz Log: What the world is searching for. Kay, why do you need to know what other people are looking up on Yahoo. Seriously, what's it to you? Kids today!

Item 9:

Something about that dude who played the Hulk getting another job. High five Bru!

James Frey

If I were a pee-my-pants/roll around in my own vomit barfing up chunks of my own stomach/street fighter like James Frey is, I'd get a cooler shirt to wear on Larry King. Plus don't know if I'd bring my mom along. Kinda cuts into the street cred.

"Yu-huh I am a bad ass...just ask my mom!"

Oh negativity

I have a fairly rare blood type -- O negative. We are the universal donors--we can give blood to anyone. But, we can only take our own. (Unlike the other rare blood type, AB, who can't give to anyone else but their own selfish, selfish kind, but who can take anyone's blood I might add, and I am sure do, at every opportunity. The takers!)

When I used to watch ER, I would always feel a small surge of pride knowing when in an emergency situation and one of the doctors called for a unit of O neg, that I, if I lived in Chicago, and had donated blood recently, and the patient had lived, and it wasn't a tv show, that I might have been responsible in some small way (who am I kidding, some small way! -- the total way, the whole, entire way) had been responsible for saving that fictional character's life! That's big people--really, really big. Let's face it, I'm a hero.

When you are a O neg blood donor (hero), you get a phone call the second your body is again available to donate blood. The SECOND. You're a big shot of the blood donating world; you're like a celebrity (not really, but you really should be). Some years ago I stopped donating blood for a while. Then I thought, man, I need to get back to saving the world. So I called up the Canadian Blood Donation service and let them know I was available again.

"O negative!?" the woman on the phone exclaimed, clearly delighted.

"Yes" I replied, trying to sound humble, but frankly who are we kidding.

We made some chit chat and then she asked me her usual screening questions like have I ever had malaria, (No!) Am I HIV Positive (no!) Have I ever had syphyllis (no!) Have I spend three months or more in England during the 80s....

uhhhhh

why yes, as a matter of fact I did spend exactly three months in England during the 80s.

Uncomfortable silence. The sound of dashed hopes and shattering dreams.

"well, in that case" she said "we cannot take your blood."

Mad cow disease.

"No" I protested "I was a starving student in the 80s -- I barely had any money to eat any meat of any kind while I was there, let alone beef"

"Oh that doesn't matter" she said, her tone turning cold. Beef products are in everything from cookies to french fries" which I recalled was pretty much my entire diet during my stay in London.

"well, okay" I said "but frankly I am now a little concerned about my own health."

"Oh" she said "don't worry--it's very unlikely that you have acquired the human variant of mad cow disease".

That's good to know. But you still won't take my blood.

"No fucking way!" she said. (minus the swearing). "We can't take the chance."