Sunday, October 31, 2010


Halloween last night was...okay. I guess it's a given that anywhere you go is going to be super packed, super smelly, and super slippery. By super slippery, I mean that the floor is usually COVERED in alcohol. And because I'm a) very klutzy, b) can't walk in heels for the life of me, and c) an idiot, I did a massive body dive onto the middle of the dance floor. Good times. But I did manage to save my beer, so I guess the story's not so bad.

We went to a shag -- people have different interpretations of that, though. By "shag" in my city, we mean "pre-wedding social" or "stag and doe" or whatever the hell else people call it. It was funny when my friend's British in-laws came to visit this past summer. I was casually talking about going to a shag and they looked at me with astonished looks on their faces and exclaimed, "You did what?!"

My costume was super awesome...not gonna lie. There was another Madonna there, but my costume totally killed hers. She didn't even put any effort into hers and wasn't wearing any cross jewelry. Lame. Here's me as "Lucky Star" Madonna:

I hope everyone's Halloween was awesome!

Saturday, October 30, 2010

Happy Almost Halloween!!

Last night we went to Rocky & it was pretty good -- I only had about 5 mins to do my makeup, which sucked. I think a lot of the audience were RHPS virgins because:
a) people yelled "asshole" & "slut" sooooooo many times -- way more than was necessary, trust me, I would know
b) the girl sitting in front of me had an ENTIRE MOVIE SCRIPT with the callouts on it. She sat through the whole movie reading the script with her cellphone -- very distracting & very uncool
c) nobody threw toilet paper! I was also the only person who threw confetti....oh well!
d) people yelled ... but not as epically as last year

I'm on the far right -- oh and yes I'm wearing an afro because that's all I could find!
Those matters aside, I enjoyed my fave day of the year -- besides Christmas, of course.

Anyways, I'm super pumped for Halloween tonight! As I've mentioned before, I absolutely LOVE Halloween because my family never celebrated it all through my childhood, so I go a bit crazy every year. Tonight I'm going to be Madonna from the Lucky Star video. The outfit is pretty easy, and obviously cool, and not too slutty like 95% of other peoples' costumes, so I'm happy.

Happy almost Halloween everyone! If you have a cool outfit, post your pics on your blog -- because I will definitely be creeping them.

Thursday, October 28, 2010

And You Never Thought That Rocky Horror Could Get Cheesier...

I'm sure most of you are sick of hearing about RHPS, but considering it's Halloween in a couple of days, and the midnight showing of Rocky is tomorrow + I'm pumped, AND the Rocky Horror Glee Show was aired recently (AND I changed my profile pic for the occasion), I think it's necessary that I address it. So be warned.

Before I delve into "respectful criticism" of this episode, I think it's important that I determine how happy I am that Rocky Horror was payed homage to at all. ANY RHPS reference to me is great, and the fact that a hugely popular show like Glee decided to base an ENTIRE EPISODE on it was fantastic. I'm sure Ryan Murphy, the creator of Glee, is a huge fan which is evident in even the small details of this episode.

For example, when Emma (the school's guidance councillor) performs "Touch-a Touch-a Touch me," there's a part where different characters' faces are right in the camera, mimicking being on top of her. Each yells "creature of the night!" and I was happy/surprised that this was included in Glee because it seems a little risque for TV. Also, this song was apparently the song that Jayma Mays, who plays Emma, auditioned for the show with. Very cool.

I also enjoyed that the scene in the movie where the characters go "Janet! Dr. Scott! Janet! Brad! Rocky! Grr!" three times was repeated in the show, and Sue Sylvester remarks, "This play is terrible!"

I loved Kurt as Riff-Raff (even though it wasn't my first choice of character for him)! He had the Riff-Raff voice & movements down-pat. I read in an interview that he gave that he is a huge Rocky fan and that he was dying to play the part of Riff-Raff, so that's all fine and dandy.

Finally, I thought it was awesome that Barry Bostwick and Meatloaf cameo-d in the episode. Yay for that. Oh, I also forgot to mention the highlight of the episode: Mr. Schuester with his shirt off. Thank you, Glee, for making me believe that there may in fact be hot teachers like him out there.

I thought the show missed the whole point of RHPS. It's about sex, it's about being provocative, and it's about "pushing the envelope" which Glee outright denies. The lyrics are altered because they aren't appropriate for a high school shit. But changing "I'm just a sweet transvestite from transsexual Transylvania" to "sensational Transylvania" ruined the whole song for me. Other examples are changing "heavy petting" to "heavy sweating"; "and if any grows" to "and if anything shows"; and "seat wetting" to "bad fretting." Okay, okay, I do get that it's airing on Fox T.V. and that these songs had to be censored for a specific reason. But that's like taking the Bible and changing Jesus dying on a cross to Jesus getting carbon-monoxide poisoning. Ha, I just compared Rocky Horror to the Bible. Maybe that's because Rocky Horror is just as important as the Bible to me.

Mercedes, the token black diva kid (have a ever talked about how everyone on Glee is a stereotype? Well, they are) plays Frank-n-furter. She sings "Sweet Transvestite" in such an Aretha Franklin diva-esque way that it tramples on the meaning and significance of what the Frank character actually represents. I guess picking a girl to dress up as a transvestite (and covering her up to look a little more conservative -- not that I'd want to see her in skimpy clothes!) is a little more "safe" for TV. But, really, the main reason why I enjoy Rocky is....wait for it....the transvestites. As stereotypical as it sounds, I would have wanted Kurt to play Frank (yes, let's of course pick the gay kid to play him, just like we'd pick Artie, the kid in the wheelchair to play Dr. Scott). I just think that Kurt is the best male singer, that he has a lot of sass, and that he'd have the confidence to play the part of Frank amazingly.

You would think after 37 years from when The Rocky Horror Show was first performed in London, that audiences would be a little more tolerant of the so-called "racy" themes? In a time where this generation is supposedly more open and accepting of displaying sexuality on television and saying words like "transsexual"? Apparently not. (Think: Adam Lambert).

I'm also concerned about the fact that Glee has officially cheesified Rocky, if Rocky could be even more cheesy than it already is. Just like Glee takes songs like "Gold Digger," "Don't Stop Believin'," and "Empire State of Mind" and drastically turns them into pop-ish, bubbly, Sharon Lois & Bram hits (please tell me you know who Sharon, Lois, and Bram are! Or I'll have to give you a quick synopsis!), I think that The Rocky Horror Glee Show Soundtrack has lost the rawness, intensity, and sexuality that the original oozes with. Kids are going to buy the album, thinking "oohh, this Rocky Horror thing sounds cool" or claim to know exactly what RHPS is after merely viewing this episode. On the other hand, if this episode of Glee gets kids watching the original movie, than that's fantastic too, I guess.

So, what you have learned from me, hopefully, is that as much as Glee is apparently "risque" in devoting an entire episode to the cult classic, they are also not very transgressive in their portrayal of it. Plus, you have successfully been introduced to Sharon, Lois & Bram.

They were definitely a huge hit in Canada, I think people were familiar with them in the States too? I'm not too sure. They received many awards in Canadian entertainment (probably because they are awesome, and because nobody has really heard of any Canadian artists other than Celine Dion, Shania Twain, and sigh, Nickelback & Justin Bieber). But they were pretty much MY ENTIRE CHILDHOOD. Their TV show called "The Elephant Show," was how I measured time. I would ask my parents, "How long until we go to the zoo?" and they would say, "Three elephant shows," meaning one hour and a half (each show = 30 mins, so 30 x 3 = 1 1/2 hours. Genius, I know). I would dance around the living room with my sister to their wonderfully cheesy songs (my favourites were "Skinamarinky Dinky Dink," and "Shake it Like a Milkshake") and I even saw them in concert -- the highlight of my life. I actually wanted Sharon to adopt me because, well, unlike my mom, she was always happy, she hugged everyone all the time, and she had cool flashy earrings.

Anyways, be excited for me! Tomorrow night is the midnight showing for Rocky Horror and myself and most of my girlfriends who are going are dressing up as Franks! I know that I am contradicting myself immensely, after bashing Mercedes for playing him on Glee, but the difference here is that we are aware of what we are doing. We are aware of what Frank represents and the implications of dressing up as him. And we love him.

Sunday, October 24, 2010

Words I Will Go To Hell for Saying

I’ve always had a way with words.

If you could clinically diagnose me with something, you could say I suffer from “word aversion.” I’m sure everyone has words that they don’t like, but for me, there are words that actually make me shudder. The word at the top of that list is…moist. I’m not the only one, because apparently a lot of people (mostly women) can’t stand this word either. And please, now that I’ve shared my #1 least favourite word with you, don’t haunt me with it. My friends do this all the time – “Wanna go see a movie? We should get popcorn and a moist drink.” “I hate my boyfriend. But if he left, I would cry huge, moist tears.” “Let’s go to the gym…I want my shirt to get nice and sweaty and moist. Hahahaha!!”

Very funny. That’s like sending a person who has a phobia of spiders a giant box of them for Christmas. Way to be sensitive of mental illness…damn friends.

Why don’t I like this word? Well, it’s hard to explain. I suppose it’s a combination of the images I associate with this word as well as the way it rolls off the tongue. It’s just not pleasant all around. The word makes me think of…pure gross. Saunas. Moldy showers. Bread that’s been sitting on the counter for a week in the middle of a humid heat wave (think: bread that makes sweat droplets on the inside of the bag). Vaginas.

There are a few other words that disgust me too. They are: “lanyard,” “puberty,” “dubious,” and “cuticle.” Yuck.

Where does this word aversion come from? I suppose it’s genetic. A friend, who I will call Gretchen (who was my sister’s best friend growing up and witnessed my family’s strangeness first-hand) reminded me of how crazy my family is. She told me that I should write about my family’s “word censoring” as a blog topic…which got me thinking. Is that why words affect me so deeply? Just like someone has a predisposed genetic diathesis when it comes to drinking (i.e. if a person’s parents are alcoholics, the child has a higher chance of becoming an alcoholic too), is word aversion genetically predisposed? Well kids, I will tell you a merry little tale and let you decide.

Since as early as I can remember, there were always certain words that, according to my parents, were never to be uttered. I’m not talking about swear words – which, of course, you would be struck by lightning if you even thought about – but words that, according to my parents, “don’t sound nice.” The following chart illustrates the “proper names” for “unpleasant” words.

What normal humans say                                                                What my family says
Fart                                                                                                     “Bop”
Pee                                                                                                      Tinkle
Snot                                                                                                     Doobies
Puke                                                                                                    Throw up
Crap/Poop                                                                                           Bowel movement
(When phoning the house)  “Is K-money there?”                               “May I speak to K-money please?”

I will never forget the time during my 10th birthday party, where I was so wonderfully happy and hyped up on sugar, surrounded by friends and arcade games. My mother was bringing out my birthday cake (ice cream, my fave!), my birth was being celebrated in song, and I was grinning ear to ear. My birthday is in the summer, which means that I hardly ever had friends attend (most kids go out of town in the summer, if you didn’t know). This year was different. We’d had my birthday early, so most of my friends could come. I was ecstatic.

Anyways, my mom was bringing out the birthday cake. Kids were singing. My friend Wilhelmina, rubs her stomach, and exclaims, “I’m so full, if I eat birthday cake I might puke!” My mom stops dead in her tracks. The singing stops. The candles stop burning (this didn’t actually happen, but it sounds more dramatic). My mom throws Wilhelmina a very stern look, and says, “Excuse me, but we say throw up.” I never lived this story down. Years after, my friends would always quote my mother with “we say throw up” at every opportunity. And I would apologize time and time again for my family’s strangeness.

Another family “word rule” that must be addressed is telephone etiquette. Before cellphones were invented, my friends would call my house to chat. Like normal teenage girls do. It’s part of healthy child development. They learned soon, however, that if they said, “Hi! Is k-money there?” my mom would respond with a “Yes, she’s here.” And then there’d be silence. My friends would say, “Okay, um…” and my mother would respond with, “Oh, would you like to speak with her? It sounded like you were merely asking if she was home.” No shit, mom. Why would someone call just to see if I was home? I think my mom was trying to instill a manners revolution upon my friends, one at a time. I would ask her time and time again to “be normal!” when people phoned me, but she would just respond with, “I’m confused when they call. If they don’t have proper phone etiquette, they shouldn’t call at all.” Which is precisely what happened. Imagine a poor, lonely, teenage girl without friends calling to chat every hour? No wonder I’m so messed up.

On one hand, this whole word censorship thing is quite genius. My family censored words because they sounded “too harsh,” which really translates to words sounding cacophonous. It appears to be a very intellectual reason. On the other hand, it just sounds plain stupid. To this day, I still feel like I’m doing something wrong when I say, “I have to pee.” I get a pang of guilt deep inside me that I’m sure will stay with me for the rest of my life. And as Gretchen so wisely pointed out, it’s quite hilarious that my mother insisted that we call snot “doobies.” Really mom, are you trying to introduce us to drugs? Even now, as full grown twenty-something, my mother still corrects my words in conversation. And she wonders why I don’t like talking to her…

Next post, I will talk about activities that my family forbade me to do. No I’m not talking about sex, drugs or drinking. I’m talking about far more dangerous things like going to the movies. Bowling. Dancing. Halloween. If you want to hear more about how I was deprived a childhood, stay tuned kiddies. 

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

A Stupid Little Secret

This week has been hectic!! As much as I wish I could post workload is getting ridiculous. I don't understand how teachers do it -- planning, writing up lesson plans (which are supposed to be pages and pages long), photocopying shit, making powerpoints, marking papers, attending staff meetings, doing lunch supervisions, reading textbooks, writing report cards, staying late/arriving early to coach teams/study groups/breakfast's NUTS. Worst choice of career ever.

Yesterday I taught a "practice" lesson to my peers which I will take to a high school next week (eeeek!) Part of the lesson involved a drawing/colouring activity. I had to provide the colouring materials which, I realized at the last minute, I did not have. I didn't want to buy pencil crayons for 40 people because I am poor & I ended spending tons of money on other materials for this lesson (grrr!) so I called up my dad, who tends to have a lot of craft stuff lying around, and asked if he had any pencil crayons that I could borrow. Remember, My Dad Colours On The Toilet. So he presented me with his giant special bag of pencil crayons that he uses while defecating.

As each person listened and critiqued my lesson (saying stupid things like, "You never explained why racism exists!" and "Your powerpoint is too pink!") I thought to myself, evilly: My Dad uses the very pencil crayons you are holding while taking a shit. Who knows how he wipes his ass while handling them. Who knows if splattering occurs. Who knows when/how/if he washes his hands. Suckers.

To my future students: I may not be able to call you names. I may not be able to use corporal punishment (unless I live in Texas, apparently -- no surprises there!) I may not be able to tell your parents that they should have aborted you. But I do have tricks up my sleeve. Be warned.

Friday, October 8, 2010

Why John Lennon's Gravestone Will Disintegrate and Nobody Will Care

I'm scared. I really am. The other day I was eavesdropping and I heard a dude say that his favourite guitarist is Mick Jagger. That's like saying that your favourite feminist is Paris Hilton (which, I'm sure Paris would adopt as her new 'career' and fail at miserably -- just like she did with singing).

I feel like I'm the only person in my social circle that listens to anything pre-80s. Sure, everyone's heard of Janis Joplin & the Doors, but can anyone name more than 2 of their songs? (This is a rhetorical question people -- I'm sure if you're reading this blog, you're cool enough already). How many kids that wear Pink Floyd t-shirts can actually name all the band members?

More importantly, why do people think that Lady Gaga is a revolutionary when we've clearly seen it before...

"Meat Dress" by Jana Sterbak, 1984

And purleeease, wearing a dress made of meat that symbolizes standing up for your rights or you'll become "a piece of meat" is the lamest connection ever. Yes Gaga, I watched you say that on Ellen, and she did not look impressed.

Yes, it's cool when you play the piano with your foot...

...but Liu Wei uses both feet & plays the piano with his TOES.

For the record, I do love Gaga. She plays with the concepts of gender & fashion in very interesting ways, not to mention that she's an amazing singer & pianist. But I don't think she's as "out there" as everyone believes her to be. And I love Bowie more.

Sorry about going off on a tangent...back to my despairing for the future. It just gets me down when young people only know who The Clash are because "oohhh, I played one of their songs on Rockband!" It's sad that my friend who was illustrating a children's book I was writing for one of my classes drew a "Jimmy Hendrix" poster -- not what I asked for! A lot of people still hear the bass line from "Under Pressure" and go "hey, it's Vanilla Ice."

Oh future, how you make me weep.

Sunday, October 3, 2010

Remembered when I peed on your shoes, sis?

Today was my sister’s birthday. I remembered it because it’s also Kevin from the Backstreet Boys (the one who has a mustache and a trench coat and looks like a child molester) birthday. Just kidding, I remembered your birthday first, sis.

She’s five years older than me, so naturally, she would boss me around as a child and I would listen to her. I’m not gonna lie – she wasn’t the brightest between the two of us, but she was definitely the goofiest. And yes, I’m using the past tense when describing her only because she moved away three years ago…not because she’s dead.

Case and point: We used to play school when we were little. She’d always insist on being the teacher (and when it was my turn to be the teacher, she’d tell me that my five minutes of teaching was actually a half-hour and that my time was up – bitch!). She would give me difficult math problems to solve (which I did, correctly) but she would never mark them because she didn’t know how to do math.

She was the girly one between both of us. I would collect spiders and drown earthworms (watching the air bubbles at the top of the water was entertaining, okay?) and she would freak out. One time she pretend threatened me with a knife (don’t ask) and I spat on her. For the record, this spit ball was legendary. It was a horker (apparently “horker” isn’t a word according to spellcheck) – the kind of spit that Jack teaches Rose how to do over the balcony in Titanic. I will never forget how she squealed and flapped her arms around when that huge ball of phlegm landed square in the middle of her chest.

We had a tree house which we called “Greengables.” We would dress up as poor people, put black Halloween tar makeup on our teeth, and steal raspberries and green beans from our Mom’s garden. She would pull me around in a wagon, without complaining. She also always let me have shotgun in the car (I’m sorry for being such a whiner, sis). She was also super paranoid about me throwing up on her (I’m not quite sure why, because I never did) and every time I would cough/clear my throat/sneeze she would look at me, eyes full of panic, and say, “Are you feeling okay? Are you gonna puke?” Nuts, I tell you.

I’m sorry I wore your princess skirt and went for a bike ride with it on. I’m sorry it ripped immediately. I’m sorry I used a squirt of your vanilla body spray everyday for two years. I’m sorry I peed on your shoes (we were outside and I didn't feel like walking into the house to use the toilet...And my aim was off). I’m sorry that I drew mustaches on your pictures of Robbie Williams. I’m sorry I tattled, yelled, used your facial washcloth to wipe out the sink, and read your diary (actually, I’m not sorry about that).

I love you, stupid sister.