Little Miss Sunshine

Last night, I attended the early showing of Little Miss Sunshine, which is not about this:


But this:



Really, though, it was smart, oddly charming and incredibly hilarious.

My dislike of sitting in a theatre, however, was only reinforced. Average age of my fellow theatre go-ers? 65. And, like my parents who are of a similiar age (sorry Mom & Dad, but you know you do!), they were all talkers...the worst offenders being the couple who sat directly behind me.

"WHY WOULD HE DOOOOO THAT? WHY? WHY?"
"Oooh, he's never met a family like that!"
"Oh, JUST lovely!"
"So, they have to drive to California, and then drive all the way BACK!"

When a couple of irritated over the shoulder glances did nothing to quell their use of outdoor voices, I had to be the mean young lady who turned around and asked them to please be quiet.

Funny thing, though - the instant I did, they stopped talking and started whispering, meaning they had the ability to whisper the entire time, and just chose not to. WHY WOULD THEY DOOOOO THAT? WHY? WHY?

I don't think I'll be heading out to the theatre to see another movie for a while, golden age date-night showing or not. Because the movie talkers? They are everywhere. And, let's face it, the films, they all come to digital cable soon enough.

Of Cherry Flavoured Beverages, Bowling and Jewellery Classes

Dear Diet Black Cherry Vanilla Coke,

I had high hopes for you. In my misspent youth, I loved your sister, Cherry Coke, with an abandon, and wept when I could no longer find you on shelves where I am. But you? You are a disappointment.

Don't get me wrong...you are pretty. And even a little classy looking. But to taste? You are naught but unappealing.

The black cherry taste? But an afterthought

The vanilla? Artificial and overwhelming the cola.

And neither...neither can do anything to cover up the taste of aspartame.

I will continue to pledge my allegiance to Diet Cherry Vanilla Dr Pepper. Because she? She rocks the house.

That being said, I have 11 cans of the stuff. Anyone I see face-to-face want them? Lemme know.

***

Random suprise-pre-wedding celebrations for co-workers at bowling alleys are an excellent way to break-up a work week.

***

So I make jewellery, right? But I'm always a little scared that it will fall apart, due to the fact that I've taught myself how to make these things. So I've gone and registered for a 12-week jewellery and bead making course at the local fine arts college, starting in September.

And you're all receiving my homework as gifts!

Samantha Bee Investigates

Could it Happen Here: Snakes

Or, perhaps more to the point: Could it Happen Here: Motherfucking Snakes on a Motherfucking Plane.

Gratuitous Baby Monkey Video Ahead

You have been warned.

Motherfucking Snakes on a Motherfucking Blog Post

It's been a good eight months since I jumped on the Snakes of a Plane bandwagon, and I must say that I couldn't be happier that the film has finally arrived.

I have even interupted my vacation to post about my joy.

Now that? That is dedication.

Of course, I won't be heading out to see it until the craziness dies down, because me and crowds of people? We are not friends.

***

Before I go to enjoy the last few days of being a slack-ass motherfucking snake on a plane, I would just like to take a minute to be absolutely self centered and egotistical and tell you about how ABNORMALLY STRONG I am.

Me? I am small.

But I am strong.

Case (cases?) in point: Yesterday and today (and tomorrow), my trainer has (will be) setting me up on a new program of heavy weights, doing sets of only 8 reps at as heavy a weight I can stand to move.

Yesterday, I did chin-ups on the assist machine. The deal with the machine is that the more weight you select, the easier it is to do the exercise. And yesterday, I was doing chin-ups with only 10lbs of assistance. Soon, I'll be doing chin-ups without it at all, and probably in incredibly annoying non-gym situations just because I can, and I'm an ass that way.

Today, on the lying leg press machine, I hoisted 235lbs into the air.

Apparently, you should be ware not to mess with me. But that's possibly only because I will fight dirty.

Out of Office Assistant

That's right, I'm on vacation, and I reckon that unless something crazy comes up, I'm going to take a week-long break from blogging too.

Promise to come back with stories that may or may not be true. And / or funny.

The end.

It's A Jelly

If there is one movie that I adore beyond rational thought, it's Strange Brew. I can't begin to count the number of times that I've watched it, how many times a random quote has popped out of my mouth ("Radiation has made me an enemy of civilization!") at the most hilarious and unrelated times, or how random images from the film sometimes just fill up my inner movie watching head and cause me to snicker at, seemingly, nothing at all.


I bring this up because, heyhey, guess what I'm watching right now? Showcase, I can always depend on you to deliver the unexpected awesomeness just when I need it. This is the perfect way to spend the final afternoon of a civic holiday long weekend. Perfect, I say!

For those of you without access to Showcase, I give to you this:

• A virtual scene by scene video capture of the movie

Don't say I never gave you anything!

The Best Music Video I Have Seen In A Long Time

I Think There Might Be A Light At The End Of The Tunnel

Although I fear by stating such that the exact opposite will come true. But, still - today I met with my renovation project's new project manager, and their countertop supplier came in to measure my cabinets for their top.

Is the end actually in sight?

I sure hope so. Stumbling between two bathrooms on two different floors in order to get ready for work in the morning? Sometimes, in and of itself turns into a comedy of errors.

And talking about Shakespeare (what?), a quick shout of delight (and despair) that the final season of the amazing Slings & Arrows is airing right now. Adoration for Paul Gross, Martha Burns, Don McKellar, Susan Coynes and Mark McKinney, and goon-like clapping for this season's guest stars, Sarah Polley and William Hutt. Also, I adore King Lear.

That is all.

I Am Calling You Out!

I know, I'm so rude with the calling out of the lurkers, but I know I've got me some readers that I didn't know before starting this here blog, and I'd love to hear a little bit about you. I gots to know! Because I am nosey. And, as I mentioned before, rude.

Give it up, people!

And yes, I am completely expecting to receive no response to my plea and will sit here with egg on my face. But I am ever hopeful. Because I am not so much fond of the eggs. Unlike the pug to your left, who seems to love the eggs far too much.

***

I am loathe to talk too much about this under the suspicion that talking about it will make things go horribly wrong, but there is a new project manager on my bathroom renovation case, and I am hopeful. Hopeful, I say.

I have also been so focused on the project that I have no good stories to tell you today. But I'm working on it.

Slap a Coat of Paint on It!

So I just did. On the walls in my bathroom, I mean. Switching out the light fixture tomorrow, and moving all my independent shelves and art back in too.

And then the wait for all the stuff I have no control over, she begins.

PS: I got paint in me hair. And on every square centimeter of exposed skin too. I am thanking my own cleverness for buying disposable drop cloths, I am.

I Don't Even WANT To Get Into It Today

But let me just say this: the project manager on my renovation? Apparently has no idea what a project is. Or how it should be managed.

I will just make myself focus on the fact that I get to prime and paint and install lighting today, and expel all the frustration into something constructive.

I Just Peed in my New Toilet

Aren't you happy you decided to access this blog today?

Really, though, aside from the vanity top / sink installation and mirror framing, the reno company's part of the new bathroom is done. But no pictures until it's all complete!

I swear, however, that these cabinets are going to be the death of me. I sat down on the toilet and glanced over at the cabinet side that is alongside my toilet. And what did I see? Bare wood. Apparently, either the reno company failed to tell them that that side of the cabinet would be facing the world, or they decided to ignore that. And by the time I saw that, my reno company had closed for the evening. One more thing for the project manager to add to the list of things that need to be done. Oh, also, they sent too short screws for the drawer and door pulls.

Cabinets of death, they are.

To be done:

• Install vanity top (reno company)
• Install sink and faucet (reno company)
• Install drawer and door pulls (reno company)
• Stain unstained cabinet side (reno company)
• Paint walls (me)
• Install new light (me)

Guess who's going to get their shit done first?

Renovation Trauma Continues

Last night, at 9PM, I recieved a call from Kwami, the installer that the company doing my bathroom renovation had contracted to do the work.

Apparently, yesterday afternoon, as he was leaving my place after grouting the shower and laying the floor tiles, he misstepped on the staircase and injured his foot. And hadn't realized how hurt he was until last night. He said he was going to go to the doctor this morning, and see if he could come in to complete the job afterwards. I asked him if he had talked to the project manager, and he said that he would do so in the morning.

Of course, being a micromanager, the first thing I do this morning, when the company opens for business, is call the project manager myself, who, rationally, tells me that he won't be able to do anything until Kwami calls him and updates him on his condition.

That being said, the project manager just called me to let me know that Kwami won't be showing up at my house today, as he has to have x-rays done. But that he is pretty sure that he'll be able to return to the job tomorrow.

I. Hate. This.

I feel bad for Kwami, but, really? I just want it all to be done.

Stupidity about the vanity top (see yesterday) aside, here's what was supposed to be done today, now tomorrow, to finish up most of the job:

• Caulk shower / tub
• Install shower system
• Grout floor
• Install baseboards
• Install toilet
• Install threshold cover
• Install cabinet
• Template cabinet top

Gah. GAH.

Of Course, Things Were Going Too Smoothly

I was talking to my renovation project manager today, and, of course, there are issues with my bathroom. Although the cabinets arrived today, and will be installed tomorrow, they still have to template the top, send that information to the cabinet maker, and have the top cut out. And the cabinet maker is closed for the week. And the top? Could take 5 days. So, no vanity top, and no sink for a while. Gar. Also, the wood that the cabinet maker was supposed to send along to frame my mirror? Didn't arrive with the cabinet. And, again, the cabinet maker? On vacation.

But work continues on here, and, so far, is going very well. I am trying not to start to thing that everything else will fall apart too. But of course I am. And it makes me sleep horribly, it does.

In other news, my car? She is paid off and completely mine now! And my dealership? Just called to see if I was interested in trading it in. Not likely. I reckon I shall drive it for at least a few more years until I really need to buy a new car.

That is all.

The end.

And We Have Tiles

In the shower, at least.



























Floor tiles and grouting to happen on Monday, caulking of the shower, and installation of the shower system, toilet and vanity, hopefully on Tuesday. And then it's up to me to change out the lighting and paint (I am a cheap bastard.)

Yesterday, My Bathroom Disappeared

And this is what I was left with:





















Today, I have a new sub-floor, tub and sheetrock in the shower.

Susur, Friend, Cocktail Dress. Dude.

Last night, Kate and I had dinner at Susur.

I wore a cocktail dress. Which you really can't see in this picture.




















But trust me, it was a dress that made the woman taking my money at the parking lot say, "What a beautiful dress!" and a yahoo honk at me and scream "GORGEOUS!" while walking to the restuarant. I wish I could wear that dress every day - not because of the dirty old man shouting, but because it makes me feel freaking pretty.

Anyway, this was my third experience at Susur, and I have to say it wasn't the best. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that it was the first night of a new menu, but things seemed a little off. It was still a lovely, delicious meal, but it didn't knock the socks off my ass like previous meals.

Our server was lovely, but had a thick french accent, and neither of us could understand half of what he was saying, so descriptions are a little sketchy. I had the vegetarian 5 course tasting menu, Kate had the meaty 6 course - we shared the desert course, as you'll see below.


Amouse Bouche
















From the left - Pineapple, tomato and some kind of reduction; zuchinni, carrot and some kind of reduction; tofu and some kind of gelle reduction


First Course

















Squash filled with dal curry topped with baby carrots, asparagus, peas and toasted almonds, with two types of sauces made from heirloom tomatos, a cherry tomato, pineapple and some other kind of reduction


Second Course
















Gnocchi in a tart tomato cheese sauce with cherry tomatos, peas and parmageno. Sorry the photo is so washed out! I just wanted to dig in and forgot to fiddle around with the exposure.



Third Course
















Artichoke filled with spinach and ricotta, top with toasted almonds, flanked by cooked pears on top of an apple foam (Kate also had this as one of her courses - I'm hoping she got a shot that isn't so washed out)


Fourth Course
















From the top, clockwise: two slices of heirloom tomato sandwiching a ricota mixture, heirloom tomato gazpacho, heirloom tomatos on a thin cheese wafer, balsamic vinegar gelle, roased vidalia onion


Fifth Course - two angles
































Top level: kiwi sorbet on meringe, another citrus sorbet toppped with meringue on a thin biscuit, cocoa tulle filled with chocolate mousse and topped with raspberries, tart topped with chocolate ganache and sugared cranberries, tart with pistachio cream topped with mango slices

Second level: warm chocolate cake with a peanut, peanut butter and pear centre, black tea creme brule topped with blueberries, coconut cake and banana reduction, summer berry gelle, and a chocolate cherry tart with vanilla ice cream

Long Time. No Excuse.

Well, except that there've been things going on in the past week that've made my pretty little head spin...not limited to Kate & Rose pulling up stakes and getting my place ready for the bathroom renovation that's starting NEXT WEEK.

Holy crap.

And since you all know my fondness for change, all I've been able to do in reaction is think and think and think and start to plan and lay out a new routine. Oh, routine, how you make me feel safe and warm with your snuggly soft arms wrapped around my shoulders.

Anyway, back to the excellent inane: I am delighted by the following:

• The Office webisodes. New webisodes posted every Thursday!
• NBC picking up the first two episodes of Project Runway Season Three, and airing them tomorrow and next Monday. I can only hope that ratings will be crazy insane and they'll pick up the whole season, because who knows when The Life Network will be airing them up here. Not me, who emailed the network a week and a half ago and am still waiting to hear back from them.
• Well, NBC as a whole, I guess. They've been incredibly pro-active about making use of the web as a tool, and I love them for it. From The Book of Daniel to posting scenes from SNL (hello, Chronicles of Narnia and the Natalie Portman hardcore rap, though the interface makes you work for it - click on Web Favourites on the bottom right of the page) that kids were watching on You Tube, to this stuff up above? Brilliant. Other networks have a lot to learn.

That is all.

Oh, the French.

They are a crazy lot. And I mean the ones in that there France.

Nabazta's blog picked up my blog posting about the wonder that is Nabazta and concocted an excellent and hilarious what-if situation of the romantic persuasation for me. Involving yours truly.

Thank God Rose is an excellent transalor (Babel Fish? Not so much), and was able to give me the lowdown. Between gales of laughter.

Now I REALLY want one!

Squidoo, Squidah. Plus, Sad.

My Squidoo lens, Online Shopping in Canada, has gotten so large that I've revamped the main page and separated out categories into their own lenses, linked from the main page. Please take a look and let me know what you think!


***

Right, so, sad. Today I learned that a co-worker is leaving the company to take advantage of a kick-ass job opportunity across the country. I'll be losing an incredibly smart and imaginative person to work alongside, but, more importanly, I'll be losing the chance to see a funny friend just about every day. And also, two of my bestest taste-testers and confidence-in-my-crafts boosters.

I'm super-happy for her, but sad for me.

Thank God we're at least going to have a chance to go out and say goodbye.

Brotherhood

This was going to be a post about the new Showtime produced show Brotherhood, airing up in here on The Movie Network. That is, until I attempted to access the official website at Showtime and was presented with this message instead:

Sorry. We at Showtime Online express our apologies; however, these pages are intended for access only from within the United States.

The hell? Showtime is plotting against the world! They are keeping secrets! They must be amassing troops on the border. Bastards. The lot of them.

Seriously, though, why would you block access to a website like that? It's not like Showtime has an MTV-Canada type deal going on where CRTC regulations insist that they not air things like music videos in Canada as it goes against their broadcasting charter. It makes no sense, and, seriously, does nothing but make me think they're a bunch of yahoos without a firm grasp at how information lives and grows and becomes the face of a corporation.

PS: I am trying to love Brotherhood because Ethan Embry is in it. Because Mark from Empire Records? He deserves the love.

.

I Wish For One Of These...

Say hello to the Nabaztag. Or get me one, get yourself one, and talk to me through it.

It's a freaking bunny, people, and some of you know that means I pretty much need to have it for that reason alone. But it will also:

• Tell me when you send me email and READ it to me
• Play MP3s and use them to wake me up when I tell it to
• Tell me about the weather
• Move it's EARS when you move the ears on yours! If they're matched, that is
• Look super-cute on my desk
• Possibly use it's status as a smart object and take over the world

I Know It Is Summer Because I Made Ice Cream This Morning

In celebration of a corporate holiday - long story, short: head office is in Calgary, where it is Stampede, and the city is off stampeding, so everyone else gets the day off too - I made my first ice cream of the season this morning.

Improving on past attempts, rejigging the recipe and time spent in the machine a wee bit, I made my best version of Cheesecake Ice Cream ever. And yes, co-working readers, I will be bringing it in on Monday.

I wonder if broncos like ice cream?

***

Also, I need to stop thinking I can guess what the world will do when given a choice. Because my Rock Star: Supernova prediction? NOT EVEN CLOSE.

Rock Star: Supernova, You Did Not Disappoint!

Ladies who want to be Janis Joplin, men who just want to be. Excellent. Especially when you realize that a number of the songs sung by Rock Star contestants were tackled by Canadian Idol contestants just last week, where the rock? It does not make itself at home.

Here is my prediction for tonight's show:

Bottom three performers

• Magni - horrible stage presence. Had a passable singing voice until he started to verge on Icelandic Black Metal shouting. Then he'd remember that he's auditioning for a rock band and would sing a little, and then forget and start shouting for the devil - not at the devil, mind you, which would have been rock, but for and about. I started to wonder when the druids and horned effigies would appear onstage.
  
• Zayra - modelesque in stature, stinky with the singing voice. Off-key for most of her song, and lacked any power behind her vocals. Also, I fear she is just too edgy for the Rock Star watching and voting demographic.
  
• Chris - oh, man. Worst performance of the night. Possibly because it was so sincere. If anyone wanted to out themselves as a super-limited vocalist, that was the performance to do it with. So maybe he succeeded?
  

Who will be sent home

• Zayra. She's too alt-rock for a hard rock band. And Gilby already expressed in the first episode (which I think was only on the web in the US) that he doesn't get her.

I will confess to watching 2.5 hours of Rock Star TV last night, and DVRing the models for viewing today. What has happened to me?

I Am All A-Quiver With Reality TV Anticipation

I think this week, it shall make me explode. The models! Rock Star (sans spectre of death)! Big Brother All Stars! Holy crap.

Also, I may have just grabbed wee bottles of liquid paper in both fist and shook my arms, like they were a-quiver, to demonstrate my anticipation to Kate. Who is currently sitting not four feet away from me. They made for a lovely sound effect, approximating the way my insides feel at the though of what delusional people will do for cash on camera.

That might make me a horrible person. I'm okay with that.

Update: Rock Star: Supernova's first episode is web-only. And not Firefox friendly. So fire up IE and head on over to watch it.

I So Famous

Indeed, indeed. Today's Constant Shopper column in the Toronto Star makes mention of yours truly, and my Online Shopping in Canada Squidoo lens.

That is all.

How I Know I'm An Adult

Don't get me wrong, my inner 12-year-old boy is still alive and well and kicking up a storm, but he lives deeper inside my head, and shares space with the 32-year-old woman. And a monkey of indeterminate age and sex.

Anyway, I reckon I'm an adult for the following reason: not only do I care about small kitchen appliances, I'm making an effort to replace parental hand-me-downs and less-expensive first apartment gifts with impressive, pretty and HOLY CRAP POWERFUL well known name brand doohickeys.

Today, joining my food processor and ice cream maker in my kitchen starting line-up, is this lovely hand mixing fellow, the Kitchenaid Artisan Series Hand Mixer. Look how sleek and sophisticated he is, with his black tuxedo-like outfit. I think he'll fit right in.

Scouting continues for a new stick blender and coffee grinder. Updates to follow in the coming months.

Revisiting A Band Crush

Do you know what the best thing about the movie The Wedding Crashers is? The delighted flutter I got in my gut when I heard the frenzied guitar opening to the first song played over the closing credits. I may have also clapped my hands together like a 3-year-old when the opening strains of Aside by The Weakerthans began.

I swear, The Weakerthans are everything that I crush on about anything. Beautiful and smart and oddbally sweet.

The first time I heard Left and Leaving, I was struck by how familiar it sounded - not because I had heard anything like it before, but because it sounded like me. Like what I wish the soundtrack of my life would play like. And for that reason alone, it will always sit, highly, on my top ten records of all time. That's right - ALL TIME.

There aren't many bands that can pen a line like "Circumnavigate this body of wonder and uncertainty. Armed with every previous failure, and amateur cartography" and make me sing along and shake my ass like a flat-out goon. And I'm so, so glad that they can. And they do. And I will love them forever for it.

Linka-linka
The Weakerthans official site
The Weakerthans MySpace page

It Was Like That Banana Peel Sight-Gag

But without the tripping. And without the funny. So it was absolutely nothing like that banana peel sight-gag, but it was most definitely the first thing that popped into my head when it happened.

This morning, on the final leg of my bike ride, I was peddling home down a four lane street in the dedicated bicycle lane. A beat-up white jalopy, sunroof open to the lurvley day, sped by me. A split second later, a banana peel, emerging from the sunroof, came sailing through the sky and landed with a banana-peel-like plop right in the path of my front wheel. So I swerve, think about John Cleese pratfalls, and feel the anger start to bubble. Because, (a) litter! And (b) right in my path!

"Jesus FUCK!" and my middle finger got a ferocious workout.

The fuming, she then began, and the peddling, she then became more furious, as I saw the car come to a stop at a set of traffic lights a kilometer in front of me. With visions of fist shaking and accusations of assholery blooming in my head, I managed to cut the distance between us in half before a green light let the car peel away and leave me in the dust.

So I went home. And ate a banana. And threw my peel in the garbage.

Well, There's A Reason Why It Was Harder Then Expected

Because those boxes of tiles were mis-labeled. 6 of them actually weighed 40 lbs a piece, and the other 6 weighed 50 lbs a piece.

I will not confess to putting those boxes on my bathroom scale just so I could see what they really weighed. I WILL NOT CONFESS.

Well, THAT Was Harder Then I Thought It Would Be

The tiles that I ordered for my bathroom renovation project arrived at the store this week, and I went and picked them up this morning. All 12 boxes of them. All 12 25lbs boxes of them.

And even though I am strong, like Godzilla, hefting those suckers 100 meters from garage to front door and up a flight of stairs? Hard. Harder then I thought it was going to be (see: Godzilla-strong reason above). By the end, I was a sweaty beast. And gave up on the first floor of my place, even though they have another flight of stairs to go.

Does that make me a pansy?

How Not to Make a Sale

1) Work door-to-door.

2) Start your spiel for the utility that employs you, and is in competition with the one that I have a contract with, by looking surprised when the person who tells you they take care of the utility payments tells you that they're the person with the cash in the house - you really wanted to ask for my parents, didn't you?

3) Continue your sales pitch by insulting the person who pays those bills, through implying that they may be a deadbeat.

She: "I'm from Energy Savings Utility company. Don't worry! I'm not here to get you!"
Me: "Well, no, you wouldn't be. That would be preposterous for so many reasons."

4) Continue on by lying.

She: "I'm just checking in with you to make sure that you've signed up..."
Me: "I'm not interested, thanks."
She: "Oh, I'm not selling you anything, I just want to make sure you've signed up for..."
Me: "I'm...not...interested," starting to close the door, "thanks"

And she continues to talk, and talk and talk as I shut the door in her face.

Listen, I know working door to door is a tough job, but, like telemarketers, if I tell you I'm not interested, and I'm polite the first time, insisting that I don't know my own mind by continuing to try to sell to me will get you a firm, and still polite, shut down and click, be it from a door or handset.

Canadian Idol Freaks Me Out

Which is probably why I can only watch one or two episodes a season until I have to run away, hands covering my horrified eyes.

This year's freakout is centered around this young man, 16-year-old Craig "Craigee" Sharpe.









While watching his first live performance last night, I was struck by how every hobbit-like he looked. And then I was struck by the fact that the young man sounded like a very not-manly Christina Aguilera when singing. And talking. Except a Christina Aguilera with a Newfoundland accent. Oh, Frodo Aguilera, look what you're doing to my poor, crazy brain!

And then I realized that I'm just way too old to be so very fascinated at the possible, and only in my head, probabilty of emerging Middlesex reality-tv drama on CTV. But not really, because I'm still thinking about it, far too intently, in fact.

Whoops?

I Very Much Wish...

...for a graphic desinger to magic me up a logo so I can get my ass some customized stationary.

...that having customized stationary would make me write more so I could send note cards (oh, note cards, I love you!) or letters.

...that more stationary designers in Canada would set up webshops, dammit!

...for cherry season to never end.

...that none of the sad-sack horrors (Cowboy, I'm looking at you!) make it on to Big Brother 7: All Stars. PS: I am delighted at the possibility of Will (Metal. Not metal.) being back on TV. Funniest reality TV "villian" ever.

...that the Canadian casting episode for Rockstar: Supernova hadn't been so goddamn hilarious that I'll have to watch the series when it starts up for real this summer. And that bitter, bitter Trevor from SoulDecision hadn't seen the light and dropped out of the pre-competition before being given the boot. Kinda faded is right, young man.

...that I didn't watch so much TV.

See Zombie. See Zombie Use Computer. Type, Zombie, Type!

I think the thing I hate most of all about business travelling is the vacation that my body needs from the flying and the time changes and the crazy-busy days jam packed with meetings.

Okay, that's not true. The thing I hate most about business travelling, and air flight in general, is the state of airplane toilets, and how you can do nothing about what happens in those wee little cubicles before you get in there. And how people standing in line behind you get the idea that YOU'RE the dirty beast, not the person who came before you and inappropriately let loose in that confined space. You know what I'm talking about - don't tell me you don't!

So anyway, I arrived back home yesterday, and the tomato plants? Still. Not. Dead. I am beginning to wonder if there is anything that I can do that will cause them to whither away and die. Nuclear debris? Throwing them off the balcony? I reckon not. In fact, I reckon they, like Superman, are MADE OF STEEL. I wonder if they can fly around the world backwards and turn back time, just so I will know when to and not dash to the bathroom on that plane back home.

PS: Canada's Next Top Model made me laugh like a madwoman last night. But I can't seem to remember why (see reasons why I hate travelling, above). Let me marshall my thoughts for a bit, and we'll see what falls out of my head.

Sometimes I Feel Like I Know Everyone In The World

Case in point: this morning, I recieved an email from a friend that I made when I lived in Australia a bargazillion years ago. She's a bass player, and manages the career of the woman who's band she plays in. She wanted to know if I had ever heard about a Toronto-based label that was interested in putting out their latest record.

That label? Part owned by one of my oldest friends in the world.

My Australian friend and my record label friend? Had no idea that I knew either one.

The end.

Sometimes Airflight Can Be Awesome

On my flight to Calgary yesterday, a woman sitting in the row in front of me was wearing a hat. Not just any hat, but a hat that would make Blossom proud. Made of felt? Turned up brim all the way around? Bedazzled with mutlicoloured rhinestones? Check. Check. CHECK.

Also, apparently, the crazy old man with the greasey Brillcreamed man-dyed hair that insisted on wandering about and making people join him in conversation was Walter Gretzkey, Wayne's dad. Who knew? Apparently hockey fans who raised a fuss and the flight attendants who wished him a Happy Father's Day.

The end.

RSS Rollcall

The best way I know to read blogs and news sources is via a feedreader (PS: Bloglines is an excellent free feedreader). It's like a big box store for words. Awesome. Other then the kids listed in my link panel to the right, here's who I have my feedreader picking up:


Entertainment / Gossip

• A Socialite's Life
  
• The Bastardly
• BBC News - Entertainment
• Digital Spy
• Fitted Sweats
• Globe and Mail - Arts
• MSNBC - Entertainment
• New York Daily News - Entertainment
• New York Post - Gossip
• New York - Times Arts
• People
• Perez Hilton
• Toronto Star - Arts and Entertainment
• TMZ
• Villiage Voice - NYC Life

Fashion / Shopping / Design

• A Dress a Day
• Delight - The Cult of Shopping
• Design*Sponge
• New York Times - Fashion and Style
• Toronto Star - The Constant Shopper
• Toronto Star - Fashion

Food

• Candy Addict
• Candy Blog
• Cheap Eats Toronto
• Toronto Star - Food
• The Unemployed Cook

Health

• New York Times - Health
• Washington Post - Health

News

• 640 AM Toronto
• Reuters
• Toronto Star

Technology / Gadgets

• BBC News - Technology
• Chip Chick
• Cool Gizmo
• Gadget Candy
• Globe and Mail - Technology
• New York Times - Technology
• Techie Diva Guide to Gadgets
• UIE - Brain Sparks
• Washington Post - Technology

IPod Meme and a Picture for Roro

I am lazy and figure the plethora of postings yesterday gives me room to regurgitate one of these suckers.

But first, a picture for Roro and her 87% True Project:













That's beer down the front of that bear's neck, it is. Heinken, if I remember correctly.



And now the meme. Here's how it works:

1. Put your iPod on shuffle.
2. Press forward for each question.
3. Use the song title as the answer to the the question.

How am I feeling today?
6 Undergroud, The Sneakerpimps

Will I get far in life?
Bringin' on the Heartache, Def Leppard

How do my friends see me?
I've Done Everything for You, Rick Springfield

When will I get married?
If I Could, Juliana Hatfield

What is my best friend's theme song?
I Can't Wait, Brassy

What is the story of my life?
Live it Out, Metric

What was high school like?
The Chorus is Suffering, Art of Fighting

How am I going to get ahead in life?
(Past-Due), The Weakerthans

What is the best thing about me?
High and Dry, Radiohead

How is today going to be?
What's Wrong, Reggie and the Full Effect

What is in store for this weekend?
Mountain of a Heart, Chamberlain

What song describes my parents?
Jesus Hairdo, Charlatans UK

What song describes your grandparents?
You're No Rock 'n' Roll Fun, Sleater-Kinney

How is my life going?
You Would Know, Queens of the Stone Age

What song will they play at my funeral?
Israel's Song, Built to Spill

How does the world see me?
The Dream is Over, International Noise Conspiracy

Will I have a happy life?
Celebrte Youth, Rick Springfield

What do my friends really think of me?
Robot City, Some Girls

Do people secretly lust after me?
Wave Beat, The Volcanos

How can I make myself happy?
Walk Like a Man, Rick Springfield

What should I do with my life?
Don't Cry, Jackalope

Will I ever have children?
Selfish, N'Sync

What is some good advice for me?
Groove is in the Heart, Deee-Lite

What is my signature dancing song?
For Once in Your Life, The Jealous Sound

What do I think my current theme song is?
I See You, Juliana Hatfield

What does everyone else think my current theme song is?
Bingo, MIA

What type of men/women do you like?
Skin Receiver, Auf der Maur

What kind of kisser are you?
Rider, Juliana Hatfield

What's your style?
An-Deluzion, Mary Timony

What kind of lover are you?
Chewing Gum, Annie

What would be playing on a first date?
It's Alive, Unbusted

Where do you see yourself in 10 years?
The Jitters, Dismemberment Plan

Hail Seitan!

I love kitchen experiements (see: Tortillas, Yogurt, Peanut Butter). So I decided that I wanted to make seitan - otherwise known as wheat meat.

So I did.

So take a look.

Seasoned high gluten dough:












After resting, pieces are pulled out and wrapped around themselves:












And plopped into simmering vegetable stock, like dumplings:












After an hour, they're done! And sliced, and chopped. Unlike tofu, seitan has a firm, meaty texture:




















But it's all wheat, baby!

CNTM - Episode #3 - In One Day, You Brought Us from heinous Disaster to Alright

Just a short highlight of awesome today - I don't reckon the play-by-play style is getting much love, and it takes a massive amount of time to write (badly).

• In the previous episode recap at the top of the show, Tricia makes use of the ANTM trademark description "fierce". Hot damn! Or should I say, "fierce"?
• Returning home, the first thing Andrea does is shave the hair from her arms.
• In confessional, Sisi talks shit about everyone and vows revenge. Like a prize fighter! Later on, she calls the rest of the girls stupid, fake and lame. Oh, pot. See kettle. You are both black.
  
• Judge Stacy, she of the manly smoker voice, teaches the girls how to walk at bowling alley. The look of disgust on her face at what she has to work with is LOVELY. Almost as good as her impression of each girl's individual walks. And that woman? Damn, can she walk on a runway.
• Andrea starts her first in a series of crying jags when she realizes just how outclassed she is. And seriously, the fact that she can be outclassed by the other competitors? Sad, sad, sad.
• The runway competition is in the middle of a rugby field. In front of rugby players. Now THAT'S high fashion! Or just low rent.
  
• Brandi wins the runway competition. Her prize? The use of a secret bathroom in the house. And a pedicure. Worst. Prize. Ever. But Andrea? Is jealous and runs away to cry. Brandi proceeds to get sloppily, tearily, running nose-ingly drunk, and it's the most amazing drunkfest I've ever seen on television. It was capped off by a teary confessional following a teary phone call to her boyfriend where, talking through her nose and sounding like a five year old (a drunk five year old!) she complains about breaking her IPod by accidentally, drunkenly allowing it to fall in the jacuzzi.
• The photo shoot is helmed by Philip Bloch, the most annoying celebrity stylist I have ever done seen. But the thing is, his honesty, frustration and disgust with the "models" he has to work with? Made me like him. Made me even overlook the icky, pencil thin signature moustache (signature mustache!) he has cultivated.
  
• During judging, Andrea starts crying again. Oh, man.
• Natalie gets the boot. Which was expected, due to her height (6') and larger, more solid frame, but it makes me a little sad. The editors focused on Natalie this show, and she came across like a very intelligent, level headed woman. Okay, perhaps an intelligent, level headed woman built like Natalie would know that there was no way in hell that she could ever be a high fashion model, but still. I liked her, and she was far more interesting then the vapid women that remain on the show.
• Next week: A trainer makes the girls exercise, the girls pose in lingerie with male models, and Ylena has to make a moral decision about the shoot.
  

A Plague of Squirrels Upon Your House!

While leaving my house for work this morning, I opened my door to the strangest scene I have ever beheld with my own eyes.

From the trees in the ravine that my building backs onto, and the trees lining the walkway from my door to the building that houses my garage, poured a veritable waterfall of brown and grey and black squirrels.

All a-chitter, making a noise I can only describe as what a rabbit pretending to be a pig would sound like, they scurried down tree trunks, burst into a full run when they hit the ground, then skidded to a stop, and sat back on their haunches, peering into the sky. Still oinking like rabbits (pretending to be pigs), they would then dash off across the compound in the opposite direction from where they came.

I stood in my doorway, eyes even wider then usual, watching the craziness on the lawn in front of me. When 20 or so had passed, and the herd of stampeding squirrels seemed to be thinning out, I took a chance and started to walk gingerly to the garage eyes darting all about, ready to throw myself out of the way of any agitated fur face who might just get the idea that I'd be a nice obsticle to tree themselves in as they attempt to alude whatever Stephen King-like preditor that is now lurking in the woods outside my house.

If you don't hear from me again, take that as a sign that the monster that is now making it's home outside my home has eaten me alive. I hope I went quickly, and gave it a good punch to the throat.

PS: CNTM Episode #3 recap to come later on today.

I Claim this Land in the Name of Spain!

The wee plot of flowerbed land outside my front door has been annexed by my downstairs neighbours.

Background - I'm in a stacked condo. It's a three story building, and mine are the upper two. I have a private entrance on the ground level that opens to a stairway that brings you up to my unit. The end.

Anyway, before I moved in, the previous owners dug up a mess of wee trees and flowers, leaving behind only three or four green bushes. And, having a black thumb, I can only identify one as a hosta - the others? Not a clue. But really, I liked it that way. I'm not at all a flower person, as the scent tends to cause small imaginary hammers to pound on my brain. As well, flowers bring flying bugs, and around an entryway, I wish for bugs to be scarce.

This spring, I had planned on purchasing a couple more hostas to fill in some of the blank spaces in the bed. Until I came home a week and a half ago and found that my downstairs neighbours had planted single pansies not only in the bed in front of their bay window, but in the bed alongside my door.

On one hand, I thought, "Cheeky bastards! And also, gah, flowers!", and on the other, "Oh, look what I don't have to deal with anymore!"

My ass? It is lazy. Lazy, indeed.

So far, I am leaning towards not being irritated - the bug situation is not too bad, as of today, and as long as they continue to garden that space, hey, more power to them.

Also, it lets me think the thought "Pansy ass!" whenever I leave and come back home.

I Confess!

1. I DVRd last night's premiere episode of How to Get the Guy.
2. I am watching it right now. And I am snickering. And thinking of how it's just a high budget TLC show.
3. I may very well be taking mental notes.

I have sunk to a new low.

I Stole a Haircut. And a Random Tomato Plant Picture.

You may remember from my Episode Two recap of Canada's Next Top Model that I admit to coveting Heather's haircut.

What I may not have told you was that I had set up an appointment with my stylist and colourist, erm, 8 weeks ago, for last Saturday.

And I may have brought in the following picture with me.

Tasha was lovely enough not to make fun of me for watching completely crap reality television. Possibly because she does not share the love for the crapulence that is modern-day TV.

In fact, she was excited that I wanted to halt the growing experiment that I had going on on top of my noggin, and whipped up an amazing science experiment of colour to compliment the cut.

She's a wiz, she is.

Anyway, I give to you the before and after. We did what we could with the shorter fringe that I was already sporting, but it's pretty close, I reckon. For the colour, she applied an excellent chocolate brown with auburn undertones to even out my base and fill in the peak-a-boo highlights she gave me the last time I had my colour done. And then? With the forward pushed curtain that serves as excellent long-ass bangs? She put a series of two-tone highlights in that bit - all golden and red and tigers and bears, oh my!

Right, I said "I give to you", didn't I? So let me get right on that.

Runway ready, indeed. Except the opposite of that. That being said, I very much love it, and it brings to 1 Bargazillion the number of hairstyles I have had during my 32 years on the planet.

The new forward motion of the fringe is excellent, even if it has forced me into becoming a hair flipper so I can see. The thing is? It kind of reminds me of the fetlock on a horse, which fulfills all kinds of childhood wishes for the future that I used to hold dear.

***

As promised, Day 9:

Welcome to the Grade 1 Science Experiment on my Deck

Day one:











Day four:











Day five:














Seriously. For those familiar with my black thumb, I am as astounded as you are. Also, how much do I love time-lapse photo essays? Far too much. More tomato pictures to come. You have been warned.

CNTM - Episode #2 - "I Was Thinking That My Brain Was Going to be Pulled Out"

This week's episode opens on the girls returning to the house post-elimination. A couple of the girls talk about how easy it is for them to maintain a model weight, while Natalie, who isn't blessed with a metabolism that runs like crazy, and who isn't willing, like Heather confessed last episode, to live only on rice cakes and water, wraps her body in saran wrap in order to sweat off water weight.

Saran wrap. Saran wrap! Like a 6 foot tall jockey, but without the horse riding at the end.

One thing that I really like about this show is that it keeps pointing out the reality of the modeling industry. Well, reality if you excuse the fantasy that any of these girls could ever model in anything other then a Sears catalogue or a Wal-Mart flyer. Both the girls and the judges and modeling agency representatives talk frankly about the difference between the body size, proportion and muscle tone needed to work in the fashion industry and what is considered beautiful outside of the business. All of the girls seem to be, at least, aware of the fact that models serve one purpose: to serve as moving, breathing clothes hangers. And the show makes no excuse about that.

Tricia seems to be playing a much bigger role in this version of the show - unlike Tyre's hands-off swoop-in-make-them-cry-run-away, Tricia appears and jumps in feet first, talking and showing and mentoring. And that starts as she greats the girls the next day, at a salon in the city, for their model make-overs. She, judge Paul Venoit, her personal stylist, Greg Wencel, Gino Garcia, whom Helfer refers to as a specially flown-in colour master, and a flotilla of hair stylists and colourists attack the girls in a frenzy of snipping and bottle squeezing - well, except for Brandi, who is deemed already perfect...except for that horrible personal style issue they, correctly, keep harping on.

Heather gets an amazing hair cut that I covet, and criescriescries because of it. Perhaps its because my hair grows like a cherry tomato plant, but the crazy attachment, and the equally crazy worry about how her boyfriend will react makes me wonder if she's at all prepared the rest of the show. But, you know, it's not a make-over episode unless one of the girls freaks her shit. And even better, this show gave us two!

Tricia and her stylist had planned to give gawky Andrea hair extensions, but, due to the horrible state of her hair (man, after seeing the girl punish it with a flat iron applied directly to dry hair without using a spray-protectent, they should've known), especially after a colour lift following a self impossed previous chemical fry-up, they had to hack and hack and hack the damage away. But you know what? She went from gawky 5-year old to a confident young woman. It's amazing what a stylist who knows their shit can do. But the tears! Oh, the tears. Her excitement at finally having long hair was replaced by horror at having to go even shorter then it was when she sat in that stylists' chair to crazy love with what she ended up with. Ah, to be so young and care so deeply. I sometimes long for those days.

Tenika plays the diva card, causing Greg, in a shit-talking aside to Paul that made me love them so damn much, to remark: "I've never worked with someone so irritating and demanding in my whole career, and I've seen a lot of irritating and demanding. Trust me". Paul also tells Andrea, point blank, that she needs to buy a fashion magazine and develop a sense of style because she's an absolute disaster. It was brilliant and made my general low-level irritation with him recede to previously unheard of levels.

At the end of things, the girls definitely look more downtown and less suburban mall, but, really, I think there is nothing that anyone can do to make any one of these girls look like a top model.

Back at the house, Andrea, in shades of Anne confessing her love to Eva on America's Next Top Model, dissolved in snotty tears as she tells Tenika of her sisterly love for her. She tells her how her feelings for her mom, who is her best friend, have been transferred onto Tenika. I am looking forward to a melt-down / high-noon showdown in future episodes.

This show's photo shoot's theme is Fight Club. Unfortunately, it did not involve soap being made from human fat, but I reckon that's just too much to ask.

The girls are dressed in the hoochiest swimsuits that I have ever, ever seen in my entire life. Tricia joins them in a boxing ring, and coaches them through poses and working expression and emotion into their faces. Watching them mimic Tricia is like watching wee ducklings, waddling about, mindlessly, behind their mother. Excellent. Especially since none of them are at all able to duplicate anything on film. That's right - the results of the photo shoot are pretty much on par with those from the first episode. Stinky, stinky, stinky.

During the judging, before the one-on-one critiques, Tricia asks the girls to leave and has them return, one at a time, and forces them to choose which contestant that they feel should get the boot. Based, of course, on what they've learned thus far about the modelling industry. Ha! But whatever - when the numbers are added up, Sisi has the most votes. But what does this mean? We shall soon see.

The girls return and the critiques begin. Random comments:

• On Tenika - "The body looks experienced, but the face looks like it's your first shoot". My inner 12-year-old boy fell in love with Venoit right then and there.
• Andrea blames the extra hair on her arms on being cold. Really, though, growth of the kind of hair she has on her extremities - the peach fuzz, downy kind - only happens a body doesn't have enough body fat to keep it warm. Instead of addressing that issue, she's told to find some way to remove it.
• On Brandi: "That's messed up, girl"
• On Heather: "She's already aged in her face"

Following the critiques, Tricia reveal to the girls that Sisi received the most votes and was deemed, by them, to be the person who should be kicked off. But also that the result may not have any effect on what the judges decide. Which makes me believe, quite strongly, that the producers saw just how politely boring the girls were and that they needed to stir up some shit in the house to make for anything resembling entertaining television.

The judges deliberate, and then call the girls back in. It comes down to Dawn and Brandi, but Dawn's overall fear of the camera and of modeling in general does her in.

Random Confessional Moments

• Tenika hates Brandi and equates her to a snake, constricting around everyone to squeeze the life out of them.
• Sisi delivers an absolutely unrecognizable, but entirely hilarious, impression of Dawn. After which, she opines, "You're so fucking. Boring."

Next week, Sisi vows revenge on the girls who voted for her to leave, the super-annoying and super-fem celebrity stylist-slash-irritant Philip Bloch guest directs at the photo shoot, and the girls take part in their first runway show.

CNTM - Episode #2 - Not a Recap, but a Triumphant, and Quick, Fist into the Air

Just a quick, non-recap Hell Yeah shout. Thankfully, the show is becoming all that I wished for previously. The bitch divas are coming out, the tears are flowing, and Tricia Helfer has become a bargazillion times more personable.

Recap tomorrow!

I Have Not Yet Murdered Them

And that is surprising! In fact, THEY THRIVE.

Proof

Sunday afternoon:
















Today:
















Double the size! I am freaked out, and hoping that they are really tomato plants and not crazyass bean stalks. Because I am just no emotionally prepared for battling a giant right now. I am a delicate flower, you see.

Shut it.

23 Squidoo

I have succumbed to peer pressure and created a Squidoo lens for my Canadian Online Shopping list.

Visit and help me add to it!


Online Shopping in Canada

Skirty McSkirterson

I don't know if you've noticed, or noticed me noticing you (winkwink, hey sailor!), but I'm pretty much in love with skirts. Which means that I adore every season that isn't winter 'cause I get to wear them. Why not so much with the skirt wearing in winter? Because tights + me = hilarious, uncomfortable comedy of errors. Each and every time.

That being said, the last couple of years have been lean with the skirt-buying and me. I have not the tall stature to pull of the boho-floaty-mid-calf-to-ankle designs that have taken over store shelves of late. So when I find a lovely a-line that hits me at the knee? I do whatever I can to snap it up.

Here's the skirt I wore today. It made me feel a bit like a surf bum, though I'm not quite sure why.

I Will Feed Millions with my Cherry Tomato-y Goodness

Or, at least, this plant and it's sister will do much to fill my own belly with tomato-y goodness. Which, though selfish, is all I really want.

So there.

Another Fashiony Post

It must be a fashiony day!

Look what arrived at my house this week. Oh, BCBG, how I love you:
























As I suspected, the silk underskirt is about an inch too long, and the tulle overlay, upon with the lurvely sequins are attached, is another inch longer. My current plan is this: visit seamstress. Shorten underskirt by an inch. Have the unsequened bit of tulle cut down to where the sequins start. Same effect, no? I am possibly too afraid of the possible problems that might arise from having the tulle overlay removed, taking an inch off at the top, and reattaching it to the hem. Thoughts?

This is the skirt I wore today:

















It's by OK47, and it is one of my absolute favourites.

Shamefacedly, and yet, strangely and proudly, I now present to you my ugly new shoes. I promise to only wear them when on my deck, gardening and washing my car. I sometimes wonder about my questionable taste.

CNTM - Episode 1 - "He told me I looked like a bulldog"

Dear Canada's Next Top Model,

Where, I ask you, is the overwhelming, over the top drama and craziness? Why do I get the feeling that you didn't really do a casting call, but instead left filling the slots to, say, the day before shooting started, causing you to run out into the street and make any girl that you ran into that fit the 5'9" and over, somewhat slim, over-18-under-25 criteria? And here is my proof: a casting episode, something considered standard for ANTM, and reality competition shows in general, was no where to be seen.

As exhibit two, I give you the competitors themselves. I know I said it yesterday, but, dear Christ, there is no way in hell that you can do anything to convince me that any of these girls could make it to the pages of a Sears catalogue, let alone a high fashion runway. As well, the prevailing attitude seems not to be one of the self delusional dementia on ANTM, but one of "Hey, someone suggested I try this. I'm not doing anything else right now, so…" And, although I was initially happy that the girls on this show seem to have not yet gotten to the stage where they consider shrieking in excitement as a valid method of communication, the lack of excitement and passion, even if it's generally misguided, does not give me hope for the reality train wreck that this show is supposed to be.

Things got off to a promising start with little orange Jay Manuel greeting the girls at a lakeside hotel, forcing them to remove their make-up, snapping polaroids, and making them choose an outfit and strut down long, curvy wooden dock, which served as an excellent makeshift catwalk. And, yeah, none of the girls can really walk. But that's no surprise.

Tricia Helfer, as host, disappointed the crap out of me. So stiff! So walled off and disconnected. Sigh.

An interesting twist on this version of the show, I think, is the inclusion of representatives from the modeling company that the winner will be contracted to. They talk a lot about the physical demands on a model - not just the work, but the look and proportions that a model must live up to. Measurements going on pre-photo shoot? Check. Talk about what it is about a face that makes it photogenic? Check. Discussion about things that the girls have to change about their body and physical presentation, up front and unapologetically presented? Check. Which is really refreshing - so many people that I know who watch these types of modeling competitions don't seem to get that while some of the competitors might be real-life pretty and have real-life bodies that others might envy, to fill the job of a model, they just don't stack up.

The girls are plopped down into their first photo shoot where they're directed to channel bad-ass rock and roll chick attitudes. Seated or sprawled out on a multi-coloured, lighted disco-style dance floor, the shoots themselves are painful to watch, and the results are even worse. The only girls who don't give a photo that either looks like an over-styled yearbook graduation photo, or a Glamour-Shot studio reject are Brandi, who comes across as the most fashion-y, Ylena, who, though photogenic, looks like she's in her 30s in the image, and Sylvie, which surprised the crap out of me because that girl? Off-film looks like that girl who captained your high school's softball team before becoming queen of the stoners. Ridden hard and put away wet, indeed.

As for the other girls, well. Alanna revealed that she was a replacement for a competitor who decided not to be on the show at the last minute. It shows. Sisi and Andrea are odd looking, but not in a way that makes the camera love them. They're also both intensely awkward in front of the camera and on the catwalk. Natalie is the most masculine looking contestant, and, at least in the first photo shoot, it is definitely working against her - Jay's assertion that she looked like a bulldog had a ring of truth when her best photo was revealed. Dawn is remarkable if only for her total inability to do anything but stare like a scared rabbit into the camera lens. Heather is forgettable, even though she was deemed as having the best walk and the most symmetrical features. Tenika is a pretty girl on video, and has the kind of intense energy that is admirable, but just does not take anything close to an attractive still picture.

Unfortunately for Sylvie, the fact that she doesn't seem to give a shit about the competition in particular, and the fashion industry in general (the "So what" she gave to the judges when the commented on her super-sloppy appearance sealed the deal, sweetie) had more weight then a somewhat acceptable photo, and she given the boot. The most excellent thing about this episode, however, had to be her near-fury at being eliminated. The bitterness! The disbelief! The refusal to cry! Closest thing to the craziness that makes America's Next Top Model watchable TV.

Overall, I was underwhelmed. You know there's an issue when the only person bringing the bitch is Jay, a castmember from the parent show. Jeanne Beker, I know you're a crazy ego-maniac - I want you to get Simon Cowell on those girls! Models, I want you to get the freak-out on!

I want delivery on the hilarious drama, dammit! And I want it now!

Prediction: Brandi will win.


xo,
M.