off my chest

when is there going to be a new episode of oprah? sick of being stuck on my lunch breaks with shittiness like a makeover story or antiques roadshow.

when is tyra going to stop being such a wanker and could she please, miss thang, stop it with that bullshit whisper during the excruciating antm elimination speeches?

dear ace young: you are neither talented nor sexy. also, please drop the quiver-singing nonsense. and also, please don't ever pull back your shirt to reveal your sad scar again. thank you.


bills of health

huge breakthrough yesterday in the doctor-melting project that recently entered its fifth year. my adorable yet painfully reserved physician not only broke two smiles, but i actually managed to make him laugh. it was a true miracle. his chilliness has prompted me, on occasion, to comb for another gp. but even the supposed 4th largest city in canada isn't immune to the doctor shortage problems plaguing most of the country. so i have hung on to my shy african doc, and as i told him yesterday, "don't look now, but you are softening." in related medical news, how can one possibly express what it feels like to hear "no, that's not a lump." also, my blood pressure is apparently "perfect".

i had been wondering whether the doom-ness that has been stealing my sleep and shadowing my days since last week might be attributable to some sort of body alarm. i am both relieved and pissed to know it is not. this means i am still clueless about this anxiety attackery. can't win for trying, i guess - just when it seemed like i'd mustered the upper body strength to tread with my shoulders actually up out of the water, whatever lies beneath is a fucking buzz-killing bastard. clearly,
a promising work surge ain't enough.

maybe it's a result of my having come out of the closet as a true love seeker (as opposed to untrue love or toxic love or love that is conditional, less than, or different than what one truly wants). maybe it's anxiety induced from the whole house selling/buying thing i'm pursuing. maybe it's because of the damned seal hunt. maybe it's because even though i'm kinda finding work, i still don't have a fucking clue what i'm doing, as in, a Life Plan. maybe it's indigestion.

oh yeah, on the whole true love thing ... i was told recently by a friend, in response to being asked what he appreciates most about his relationship of 10 years: "
i am going to die a better person because of all he taught me about myself". ok, maybe that sentiment isn't revelatory. but it is for me, at this time, resonant. as someone obsessed with self-analysis and self-examination and self-blah blah blah, it got me thinking - what kind of beautiful mind-fuck must it be to be learning about (and appreciating) oneself through the eyes of a partner who truly loves you, properly?


no contest

in her recent comment, carrie joked about yesterday's post being a baby photo contest. clearly, it was not. because if it had been, carrie/wayne's victoria would have won hands down for this scrumptious wig shot - a bona fide classic [one wonders whether there was red wine involved during this photo shoot, and for whom].

ok, this inadvertent detour into cyber-scrapbooking is now over. this also, may i state unequivocably, brings to an end the baby talk.


my first quote

for the first time in my life, i am drawing up an official quote for a contract. i am bidding to create and implement a government relations strategy for an organization who shall remain unnamed. it is one of three quotes i have to whip up in two days. the other two i think i have a way better shot at. anyways, in doing so, i am creating new letterhead that features this header, a teaser from my soon-to-be-unveiled
website. gawly, photoshop sure is fun. but lord almighty, i really have no idea what the fuck i'm doing with all this quote nonsense. i'm too naive to know better, i think. but luckily, i'm reasonably articulate and a bit ballsy. so we'll see what happens.


it should be of some concern that i found myself a bit moved by the latest release by aerosmith in the car today. the tune isn't even catchy, like i'm not even humming it now, which is too bad because that means it won't overtake the enormous space currently occupied by that james blunt song. never thought i'd have an emotional reaction to something being screeched by steven tyler. hadn't realized i was experiencing any particular high levels of susceptibility, but there it is.

as if it's may and they are tulips, babies are popping out everywhere. i began noticing the phenomenon early last year. it has ballooned. damn near every woman i know has either recently popped one out or is growing one in her belly. when you're in your 20s, it happens on occasion to friends, usually by some accidental swapping of fluids. but in this procreation bonanza that is the 30s, the pregnancies are much more planned, often elaborately so (i'm talking turkey basters and 'special' arrangements and even legal counsel). even women previously adverse to the idea are going ahead and 'just doing it'. it got to the point last fall that every single social outing led to a pregnancy announcement. can't run into a familiar face without seeing a toddler's face beneath it.

i can't believe how much there is to say about trimesters and teething. what happened to chats about che and chi? the baby-production has gotten so outta hand, some of us are discussing the formation of EWOC, the empty womb club. my god, i think that's a really good idea. wonder what we'll do at meetings... we could discuss how much we relish our ungnashed nipples, bring in a speaker to discuss the joys of open flame cooking, or we could shop on-line for chastity belts or excursion packages to cancun.

this is mandy's max in regina.

and here is jan/ray's olivia in tumbler ridge, bc.
i mean, c'mon already.

ridiculous. just fucking ridiculous. so the recent epidemic of conceptions - in and outside of couplings - has got me thinking. i mean, you have a certain lifestyle, you want to pursue certain unstable things like freelancing and r&b singing. you recognize the plethora of population on the dying planet and think, naw, i shan't add to that. you think of simple pleasures like random drunkenness, spontaneous sleepovers with strangers, unpaid bills, and realize your stunning unfitfulness to parent. but then you get your hands on one of the cabbage patch kids who emerged from a friend and you think hmmmm... but then you say to yourself, wait! aren't you the one who only recently made the dramatically painful admission that you are, in fact, despite some residual and altogether nonsensical resistance, looking for true love? uh, ya, let's leave parenting to the emotionally mature.

check out jack, of tania/martin, who unwittingly brought me as close as i think i've ever come to wanting one of these things for my own. the wave was strong, but i'm happy to report that with a cosmo and a cigarette, it passed.


week's end

what better way to unwind from 1.5 solid days of ndp meetings? with a project runway marathon and port & stilton pate from thyme and again, that's how. i had only heard about the show, so to cram five episodes into a supine sunday has been great. i wouldn't say i'm hooked or anything. but hey, gay boys running around with fabrics and folly? they just made outfits out of flowers and foliage - now that's entertainment.

the week was a long one. 3 days of meeting facilitation for the workers of colour gang of the clc human rights committee plus all sorts of busy-ness where the other wee contracts are concerned. then i had to come face to face with my procrastinatory demons in order to pull an election planning committee report from my ass in time for our friday night meeting. nothing like an unflinching deadline to take a document from drafty to presentable. i told steve that yesterday's ndp provincial exec meeting was the best i've attended since joining in nov 04 (some would say the bar ain't too high, so like actually getting some work done without anyone crying shouldn't be so special, but i think it was great for so many more reasons). not sure he understood what a huge compliment that is.

i think i'm going to heat up some leftover chicken korma (homemade, of course) and fall into bed by 10. gotta be diligent about re-charging in order to be in tip-top form for my very first skype meeting tomorrow (i'm a voip virgin). colour me modern. wonder what else will slide out of tomorrow to carry me through the days to come.


jesus, why?

actual movie description seen upon landing on a random movie listing in the satellite guide and hitting "info":

"jesus christ, vampire hunter - jesus returns to earth and is forced to contend with an army of vampires using biblical prophecy and kung fu."

shhhh ... why ruin this moment?


o happy day

well, it's that day again. that's precisely how i introduced the IWD blurb in the latest edition of the ezine i do. sounds enthusiastic, i'm sure. maybe my spirit is just that god-kissed.

my friends are kicking ass today. audra's bold commentary on inter-generationality and the feminist movement is up on rabble (if you squint, notice yours truly gets two mentions - thanks miss audra!). i dig so much of what she says in this piece, it's no wonder how much i want to get behind her, wherever the fuck she's standing.

nancy p is taking on this columnist whose years of being sour, stupid, and wrong have apparently reached an all-time peak. in response to wente's ridiculous rant entitled "how the feminists betrayed feminism" from yesterday's g&m, nancy wrote this, and it's been in the hit rotation all day. nancy opens with a glorious ka-pow: "wente bemoans the state of feminism and asks why on earth women in canada preoccupy themselves with the struggle for equality. what impoverishment, what racism, she asks? if only more women had the luxury to be so blissfully unaware." she even uses the word "stymied", which, let's face it, is tough to pull off. you do us proud, nance.

speaking of the g&m, today's profoundly insightful polling question (right margin, front page) is "in your view, is the feminist movement its own worst enemy?" lemme get this straight, we make the front page today with a decent CP story on child care and IWD in pictures and whatnot, then this jack-ass question? i'd sure love to hire that wizard pollster to draft such subtle methodology for some polling of my own. sweet jesus.

egads, so much to do today: agitate on child care, take the g&m poll, send an e-card, join the amnesty phone-in. you may not want to look at this article in homemaker's entitled "10 reasons why it's great to be a woman". [#7 - "we can always find a new face in the makeup bag"]. to each her own, i realize... i'm just sayin'.

may the force of the goddess be with us all.


my oscars recap

may i first say that jon stewart, though he didn't make anyone pee, did not disappoint. he was calm, smooth, rose to the occasion, and i am still madly in love with him. but the whole oscars thing was drippy and way too self-congratulatory. hollywood gave itself a bejeweled pat on the back, made big to-dos about it's influence on society, gave jabs about the need to support actors and the industry (even jack nasty made a crack about portable dvd players not being the way to go)

ok, so there was non-stop over the top aggrandizement. moving on ...

i started the evening thinking michelle looked great with her glam look and saffron gown. but super-overexposure (no fault of her own) had me cussing her by the end.

lemme remember what else happened. ben stiller lost his last shred of dignity thanks to a regrettable green unitard and major unfunniness. jennifer garner almost tripped twice but recovered brilliantly ("i do all my own stunts"). lily and meryl were delicious. uma, charlize, naomi, and hilary tried to prove that lipstick is overrated. we shuddered to wonder if nicholson and kiera are dating.

i was ssooooo rooting for heath, but philip seymour hoffman won best actor and i utterly adore him so this was awesome - he got me all choked up with his shaky humble speech. so did the guy who won for writing the original score for brokeback mountain. terrence howard gazed love straight into my eyes. and we all wanted to pick up ang lee and cuddle him like a squeeze toy.

there were upsets: crash overtook brokebackmania for best film; my adorable penguins kicked quadraplegic ass; geisha knocked out faves in categories like costume and cinematography. the hugest scandal is the rap that took best song. i wonder how many people in that room actually understood any of the lyrics other than the painfully repetitive chorus "it's hard out here for a pimp". funny. reese totally robbed the oscar from felicity - which i shan't get over, like ever - and then went on and on about real women and her grandmother and "just trying to matter" and whatever the hell.

as for upsets right here in my living room: my pick for best documentary short subject WON! rex stunned us, and even himself, by picking the best animated short. for the like 10th year in a row, marc-andre won for most correct picks (i came one correct guess short of tying with his 13). my turkey chili got rave reviews, and we gorged on guac and chips and dainty little mousse cakes.

the burning question is, what the fuck was jessica alba doing there [most recent headline: "alba plays hardball with playboy"]. the mocking began when we saw her on the red carpet and didn't stop until ... well, um, it still hasn't.


clash of eras

it just hit me that i'm listening to the hollies while writing about digital voyeurism. that strikes me as really fucked up. somehow hits of the 60s don't really go with matters of modern technology. but i like the contradiction. yeah, i'm working on the 3rd installment of the e-zine i do for the womyn's voices project -- a special iwd edition, no less. that's right, iwd: the annual occasion when we try to get together at some community event to commemorate how far we've come and literally prop each other up while taking painful stock of just how much farther we have to go.

i know, i know... my optimism towards conventional feminist-y things is inspiring. i really actually dig some instances of convening as community. but mostly, my feminism is a faith-testing and omniscient bitch: i don't need a special day to honour her, she crowds me 24/7, pisses people off, eats my food, and every so often yanks my spirit down to the floor for an old fashioned wrestle.


code blue

politically speaking, the buzz is all about child care, how harper is poised to shred any gains we've managed to make in recent years and how we need to mobilize rapidly on this. a fight is brewing on the hill, and we, the extra-parliamentary opposition, are shoring up too.

so code blue has been launched. there's an open letter to sign, a network to join, and word to spread. it's like we're at defcon 3, ready to dip to 1 at any second - serious high alert. i hope the comrades are aware this ain't no dress rehearsal - how we contend with this one will determine what to expect for the rest of what's coming. let us consider this the first of many battles we will have to wage against this government over the next however many years. and lordy, if there was ever one to win, it's this. those agreements may have been far from perfect, but we were somewhere closer to an actual system - a tad more sophisticated than harper's cash-to-parent version of a child care program. jesus.