Lost and Delirious

Lost is on tonight and in honour of the great show - that despite having lost a few fans, still has its heart in the right place. At least, I am telling myself that. At any rate I'm giving it till the end of this season to impress me like it did during its glorious first season - I have decided to post these exclusive and very candid photos of Evangeline Lily, Dom Monaghan and some random dude, getting their drink on in a limo and in a bar in Hawaii, during their first season on the show. These are from Evangeline Lily's private collection...and don't ask me how I got them ;) And if you wish to use these photos yourself, just lemme know (I'm looking at you, Perez Hilton).

It's nice to see that on their days off, celebrities get down and dirty, just like the rest of us.

If you could see candid drunk photos from any other show, what show would it be?

***

PS, If Perez Hilton is reading this, I would like to pose this question: Since Paris Hilton was arrested for violating her DUI probation last night, how come you don't blog about that? How come you never have anything negative to say about possibly the most overrated and negative person out there? Me thinks you have been handsomely paid off by Paris herself, which explains why everytime she does something stupid, racist, illegal, mean, dicey, you never ever write about it. You want to be the "top" of the gossip game? Perhaps you should try being a little impartial and start blogging about everything that makes the news, not just those stories that only put her in a good light. Which is probably why you never mention her anymore...

Gah, there is too much gossip about that stupid beyatch, anyway. I found it interesting that the AP (Associated Press) is now trying to cut back on any useless (and it's all useless) Paris Hilton news on the wire.

"I've been sitting, waiting, wishing...."

Not just a sweet Jack Johnson song, but something that applies to me very well.

I have been just sitting, waiting and wishing lately and that is what has lead to my stagnant frame of mind.

I came to some pretty life-altering desicions today, things I have always known in the back of my head but what I have been unwilling to examine because I've been afraid of what it might mean.

But now that they have been uncovered, there is no going back.

Today I was asked a very simple question (or three): What do I want out of my life? What is my five-year plan? Where do I want to be in the future?

It took me awhile to come up with the answer. I had several attempts but the answers what weren't I wanted but what I thought I wanted. What I thought I had to wait for. What I thought would happen if the stars aligned, etc.

I've never believed in a five-year plan because over the last five years my life has changed so much, there was no way I could ever prepare for it.

But having a plan doesn't mean you can't or won't be open to change, because, let's face it, the plan WILL change. But that doesn't mean you shouldn't have a goal to work towards. And not just a short-term goal like getting fit or getting a job but your future in total.

Adult life begins at 26 (according to most Americans). Maybe it begins at 18. Maybe it starts at 30, I don't know. But what I do know is that I have to start planning for my future, for what I want to get out of my life. And I haven't been planning a thing, I've been unable to. Everything has been short-term because I haven't been able to look at the long-term.

Because the long-term has been completely dependent on other people* and not myself.

This is why I have been feeling stuck. This is why I feel like I have no control over my life because I have handed my control over to others and have essentially began to plan my life around them. Not the life I want but a life I am settling for. My dreams, my future, my goals for the years ahead are all dependent on everyone but me and this is such a slap in the face for someone who considers herself "independent."

Because I'm not.

I could be, but instead I am waiting for things to happen.

I am waiting for my life to start.

And all I have to do is start it myself.

I don't have to wait for other people to do this for me.

I know what I want from life. At least, I have ideas. I know that I won't be in Vancouver forever but I think I may be leaving sooner than I thought. I feel obligations to family, friends, boyfriends, my apartment, but in the end I know I must go and find out what else is out there. I have to do this for me because this is my life I am living and I am going to have to live with it if I make the mistake of waiting for something that might never come.

To put it in other ways, I feel a calling and a beckoning to travel and explore this world (yes, STILL) and find my place in it. Deep down I have known that this city is not the place to do it in. This is why I can't even commit to a pet, like a hamster, because I know I won't be here long. This is why when I am looking for jobs, I know in the back of mind that there is a good possibility I'll leave after a year or two. My long-term is not here, it is out there and I must start planning for that.

So what does this mean? Nothing too drastic.

Oh, except that I am going to start planning to move out of here next year. I'll lease out my apartment. I'll sell my car. And I'll take off, where I am going I have no freaking clue. Australia? Europe? Africa? Who knows?

In the meantime, in this year I have left, I am going to finish my schoolwork, I am going to get a job and make and save some money. I am going to continue to take classes in other areas to further my fields of expertise.

And if I stumble upon myself and my dream job in the process and decide to stay in Vancouver, then whatdyaknow! Good for me! Problem solved.

I just think that once you have a plan and you start working towards that plan, you gain control in your life.

And when you are finally in control of your life, everything else just falls into place**.

(I realize that this all seems very irrational and sudden but I can assure you, it's not. I have been thinking about this for a long time but just didn't want to accept it as something I really wanted because it would mean a great deal of risk and change. But I can't be afraid of those things. Life, in general, is a risk.)

*Just to clarify, other people is just what it means. There is not one person who contributes to this but many, most notably "parents."

**OK so I know a lot of you have told me this yourselves so it's not like I just came up with this, but hey, at least I agree now!

"To change one's life: Start immediately. Do it flamboyantly. No exceptions. " ~William James

****
On a lighter and less life-changing note, I don't feel too sore today. Well, not a sore as I thought I would. My pecs are hurting, as are my arms and legs. But I can't be doing too badly since I went for a jog already.

OK, I didn't purposely go for a jog, but I decided to walk to my therapist's and when I realized I completely underestimated how long it would take (the walk involved taking a wee ferry to an island) I ended up running there in order to make it on time. Hmmm, maybe that's the motivation I need? Anyway, so while I wasn't too sore before...I sure am now.

But man, I feel good....

duh na na na na na na na....

I knew that I would.....

Where am I? What's going on?

An hour or so ago, I was wandering around downtown Vancouver in a daze. I slowly schleped down West Georgia street, not knowing really where I was or what I was doing. I ended up at a Starbucks and proceeded to have great difficulty ordering an iced coffee...words were coming out of my mouth but they weren't making much sense. The Barista noticed my camo ballcap with the words Cardio Core Bootcamp on it and forgave me for being a fuckwit.

This is what I will have to look forward to for the next month. This is me after Bootcamp.

At any rate, I did survive it, which is a lot more than I had hoped for.

The "camp" was held indoors at Fitness World (in summer, it's held in Stanley Park), in one of the aerobics rooms. There was about 30 or so people there, mainly female with a few men scattered about.

I was relieved to see most of the women were slightly overweight just like me, so I didn't feel too self-conscious.

*start rant* That was until I noticed a few thin women...one, especially, was perky, fit, tanned and blonde.

"What the hell are you doing here you skinny Lululemon beyatch?!" I yelled at her. "Trying to upstage us all, or what?"

OK, so I yelled it at her in my head, but the point is: if you are already fit and toned, why are you here? Just go to the gym like everyone else does, don't join a bootcamp for fatties and then proceed to rock the push-up test harder than everyone else...and longer than the instructor did it for. In fact, it prompted our instructor to make a remark about the program not being a competition.

I can tell Miss Fit is going to be on my nerves for the next few weeks.

*end rant*

That was just one rant and I have many more so I think I'll just call the whole rest of this post one long rant. Keep in mind my writing skills at this moment are quite nonexistant, I think I recieved a lobotomy while I was there.

Anyhoo, the hour consisted of non-stop excercise led by our leader. She wasn't the one to yell in your face, instead she was full of boundless optimism and energy...which somehow made me prefer the "spit in face" method. At any rate, she kept us going. And going. And going. Non-stop. For one full, nauseous hour.

After the ten minute "warm-up," which consisted of 30 people running with their knees high in a circle, I was ready to throw in the towel. At least, I would have if the program was up to me. But it wasn't and we were pushed to go on and on. This was not even our cardio day so it was all about the weight training. I used to like weight training. I always thought it was the "easy" part.

Nuh-uh.

The weight training was more like circuit training, with different groups of us rotating between the ball, the steps and the bands, working on our muscle groups with cardio in between. This ensured we wouldn't get bored.

I was too busy dying to care if I was bored or not.

Literally, I felt like I was going to puke during my push-up test.

Also felt like puking when I started using the stretchy bands to work my arms and the band slipped off my foot.

Hit me right in the face.

Ever had someone snap an elastic band on your arm? Well, enlarge that band by 100 and apply it to your face.

And then I really felt like puking when they took me aside for measurements.

Oh dear.

My weight is one thing, but the width of my thigh? The horror. I'm even wearing the wrong bra size - I'm MUCH larger than I thought...which reminds me, a sports bra would probably be in good order too. I don't want to have to worry about elastic bands AND boobs snapping in my face.

A good note though, was that they didn't weigh us. It's obviously more about losing inches than pounds, which is great because that's what really counts. And speaking of my weight and inches: if it's a notable difference (and I don't know how it won't be if I'm going to be burning my lungs and buns off 3 times a week) I'll be sure to let you know at the end. Finger's crossed!

So, to sum up my first day at Bootcamp: I survived. It was tough. It was scary (especially when you have to run around with all these mirrors around you). It was challenging (tripped over my own feet while trying to keep up with a certain excercise...it's times like this that being naturally clumsy is NOT endearing). It was...not fun. But I don't regret starting it and I'm excited to see how far I will come. After all, the first class is down. It can only get easier from here on in.

Though ask me how I am doing tomorrow and it might be a different story - one filled with many explicit words.

***
In other news, I am going to the Police in May. Woot! And I have an extra, single ticket if anyone should be so interested to be doing a doo doo doo and a da da da.

Shedding the Winter Skin

Unfortunately, I do not wear pantyhose (except on special occasions) so I can not use that as an excuse.

Tomorrow I embark on my one-month venture into achieving a new body and spirit.

Yup, I start my cardio-core bootcamp. I've already got an email from them - full of encouraging words such "gonna make you sweat" and "push it till you drop" - hmmmm. At least I hope it was from the program and not some porno spam.

Anyway, they also noted that I would be weighed and measured (EEEEEK!) and would have to push-up test(OH), sit-up test (MY) and do a timed run (FUCK!). Yes, so I am not looking forward to that. I have an idea of what I weigh and I only have about 8 pounds to drop so it's not like that part will be too embarassing (but choosing whether I should share that weight with you...erm, we'll see) but I can tell them right now that push-ups are non-existent.

At least I think they are.

Hold on, I'm gonna drop to the floor and try it out.

Yes, so push-ups are nonexistent. As are sit-ups (do crunches count?). And as for the timed run...I'm gonna see if I can skip that humiliation that harks back to Gym Class and just say "What would the slowest time be? A 60-minute mile? OK, let's say I do that."

In the end though I am really looking forward to it. I haven't been so down about my weight lately, except the other night when trying on clothes to go out but anyway, and it's because I know the wheels are in motion. Things will get done, I will lose weight, inches and feel strong and disciplined.

I even signed up to do a Cardio Salsa class at the local rec centre, however the teacher never showed up when I went there the other day. I was even motivated to get my groove on (despite an ever-so-slight hangover).

Surprisingly, I wasn't too upset. Though I had walked through the rain to get there, I was in a chipper mood. I started applying the whole "new perspective" thing to what I saw. And what did I notice by looking about instead of having my eyes on the ground:

*I saw this dog-walking lady that I have seen a few times before. She's fairly old but walks four GIANT beige dogs that pull her off in all directions. Just seeing them come down the street, everyone has to cross to the other side.

*There is one street nearby that is filled with heritage houses, newly painted and restored with bright red finishes and yellow trim. Walking down it makes you feel like you are in a verdant English town, not the middle of a crazy city.

*One street had a colorful tile mosaic embossed onto the corner, right into the cement. It was like permanant street art.

*Winter is officially out. Though the nights can still be cold and the rain is miserable at times, everything is green. Grey sky but green ground, green trees, green plants. There is a freshness to the sea-breeze and tulips have started to come up in some gardens. Cherry Blossoms have appeared on a few lucky trees and birdsong is more pronounced than usual.

*Starbucks is having "Coffee Fest" at the Sheraton Hotel on Thursday. Heck, I don't have anywhere to be, I might as well check it out.

And last but not least, this whole perspective thing has made me want to branch out more into various facets of my potential future. My mum just arrived back from Mexico the other day(she's been gone for 5 months...5 months on a boat, can you imagine that?) Anyhoo, she suggested that why not try out on-camera journalism and broadcasting.

Education does sound appealing, especially as it puts off the whole "getting a real life" thing but I didn't want to go through that all again and be commited to something for two years. However, they do have a part-time course, one day a week for 12 weeks, that deals with on-camera interviewing and skills. You get practical experience too which is what we seriously lacked at my old SHIT-HOLE of a "University." So, come April 16th, I'll be adding a little more experience to repetoire.

Maybe I'll branch out even further, starting looking into getting more specialized...there is an Intermediate Wine Certification course I have my eye on. I don't know what that would get me, but wine is something that seriously interests me (and no, not just to drink...though it helps).

I like this positivity thing. It feels like the possibilities are endless...in a good way, for once.

It's all about perspective

With so much of what we do, so much of what we experience in our lives, it all comes down to perspective.

Over the past few weeks, I have changed some of my perspective on things, important things like myself, my life, my choices, my feelings, my soul...

Maybe sometimes we feel like we are stuck because we are not looking at things properly, or are still looking at things the same way. Thanks to your wonderful comments on the previous post, I can see that everything always depends on how you look at things. How you see the world.

I stumbled across this blog, Courage my Love, today and read a post that made me cringe a little when I realized what "City of Angels" she was talking about. Read on:

"When they ask me what I liked best, I'll
tell them it was you." City of Angels

Yesterday morning I woke up, grabbed my camera and
skipped out into the beckoning day to
search for poetry before brunch. This statue
caught my eye as she has such striking wings - they
look like hands and are so expressive.
I discovered a dusty little cafe with sunlight
that streamed through the old floor-to-ceiling
windows framed with purpled velvet theatre
curtains. I saw a couple standing at a crosswalk
- the girl kissed the man on his neck and he turned
to burrow into her as the light changed to green
and they did not withdraw from their embrace to cross.
I noticed the sun fell all about them but on the other
side of the street was the cool morning shade.
I found a strange little shop with Moroccan treasures
in this window and when I went down the little winding
steps to the bright red door there was a note that said
" sorry - gone for tea and toast please call me on
my cell if you would like to join me."

The morning felt like a small and perfect beginning so
i decided it was the first day of the rest of my life.


While reading this splendid post, I couldn't help but feel envious. Where is this city she talks about? Why don't I have dusty little cafes and moroccan trinket shops where I live? Why does what I want always seem to be elsewhere?

It wasn't elsewhere. This was a Vancouver blog and this city she was talking about was my city, the city I sit in right now as I type this and eye the street below my window.

Maybe if I open up my eyes and look around for once, I too will notice that everything I need and want from life is right here. Maybe I won't. But changing your perspective on things, even if it's just in the town you live it, probably won't hurt a bit.

The Dead End Drive Off-Ramp

So, if it's not been a bit obvious, I've been feeling rather down in the dumps as of late, since the ol'd New Years was rung in (the real New Years, none of this Gung Hay Fat Pig crap).

I finally pinpointed it to feeling...

Stagnant.

Stuck.

Unmoving.

Immobile.

Out of gas.

Etc.

It seems like not one aspect of my life has been moving forward. Everything is staying the same, the same ol' status quo.

And I don't like the status quo. I never have.

It became such a problem that I decided to seek out counselling for it, to get myself back on track.

Now, counselling was something I balked at at first, mainly because there is still a wee bit of negative stigma attached to it. But honestly, it's the best thing I could have done for myself. My counsellor is awesome and already I feel the markings of a new woman brewing underneath. It's amazing what happens when you gain a little perspective on your life, perspective you can't find from friends,family or yourself. While other areas of my life are not "moving forward" I can tell that something inside me is.

It's exciting and a little scary.

But I have a ways to go. I still feel like I am wasting time, wasting my life, watching everyone else pass me bye as they go on to becoming "adults." I just feel left behind, like a big kid who wants to join in on the fun but can't because her car isn't fast enough and all the lights are turning red. So I'm stuck in first gear, puttering along, going round and round the block.

Or some kind of drawn-out metaphor like that. I like metaphors.

Over the last six months or so, I feel like my life has made no progress. Nothing has grown or changed (although, I am a bit more cynical, if you can't tell. And I'm using more metaphors).

Interestingly enough, my instinct is usually to run when my life comes to a standstill like this. Maybe this is why I travel so often. Or at least "lust" after it.

Recently, after feeling particularly frusterated at things, I spontaneously booked a trip to Umbria, Italy, for the end of August. It's more volunteer work for Pueblo Ingles, only this time, since I am a veteran of the program, I've been offered a "free" week in their new Italian program.

I jumped at the chance and signed up (keeping in mind that August is eons away and I have plenty of time to change my mind).

Now, something that was recently said to me has been ringing in my ears.

We usually travel to gain something for ourselves, whether it be perspective, experience, excitement, confidence, culture, love, understanding, etc.

But when do we stop "gaining" and when does it become "fleeing?"

I want my life to move forward.

I want things to go somewhere.

And I want to have these things without running away.

Throwing Money at Celebrities

Seems like the sort of thing that happens, doesn't it?

You become famous and then suddenly money comes flying out of nowhere.

Well, I know for a fact it's true.

I threw money at an actor yesterday. Quarters, to be precise.

And I nailed John Krasinksi (aka Jim from The Office) square on the head. It pinged off him and everything.

Noooo, I wasn't doing it to get his attention (I was using my flirty hair tosses and batting my eyelashes to get that job done). I was told to do so. In fact, I was paid to do it.

Yesterday I spent 15 looooong hours on the set of the re-shoot of License to Wed.

My day started at 5AM, for the 6AM call time. Luckily they were shooting at Doolin's Irish Pub downtown so it was a 5 minute commute but I didn't get a good sleep since someone was buzzing my apartment at 2AM. No idea who it was, but it freaked the hell out of me and I couldn't get back to sleep after that...kept having visions of my stalker restlessly pacing oustide my building.

Anyway, I arrived at the extra's holding and gleefully found out I was getting paid $15 an hour. It was me and five other girls for this call-time since we had to go to wardrobe and then have the director pick out what he wanted us to do. I packed a huge amount of wardrobe like we were told (Look sexy, not slutty!), but the wardrobe lady still took her sweet time with me. In the end I got to wear my unflattering jeans paired with this awesome wine silk top. Still...I felt like SUCH a heifer, especially since I didnt fit into ANY of the wardrobe jeans (note: Rock and Republica jeans fit a LOT smaller than they say!) and all the other girls were slim and toned. They looked great. I looked like a shiny, maroon blimp. On the plus note I did get to rumage through Mandy Moore's wardrobe and saw that her jean size was only one smaller than mine. Yay!

Anyway, we were called up to set and watched a rehearsal of the scene that was being done today.

Robin Williams was there, busting a gut and acting like a crack victim. I had met Robin before, years ago, when my mum embarassed me in front of him, so it wasn't TOO exciting to see him again. But he was still hilarious as always and no stopping him.

And Jim...Jim was there too. Sorry. John. John Krasinki. Cute guy in real life, kinda puppy-dogish, fairly tall too which is uncommon among actors...mmmm. And he has a real cute bum. I say this for you crazy Jim fans out there. But yes...he does look good in them Levis. Real nice too...I enjoyed the crazy eye contact we were making during the shoot, but I think he was just going over his lines. He did take his job quite seriously. His first leading role, I bet there was a lot of pressure on his shoulders. Pressure I could have relieved if I was aloud to touch him...but I digress.

Anyhoo, when the scene was over, the director and the 1st AD, which I recognized from last week's meeting, came over to us and looked us through. Three girls were picked to be waitresses, one of them was featured to hang all over one of the actors.

Me. I got nothing. Maybe cuz I looked like a giant, I don't know. But that's probably why. Sigh. It always seems that anytime someone else dresses me, they want me to look fat. I'm pretty good at hiding it, I don't know why they can't do the same.

So yes, I was just a regular bar patron. But a bar patron that got to throw quarters at John's head.

It was a scene for a bachelor party at a bar and for some reason we all got a handful of quarters and got to fling them at his head. Of course, we had to do this scene for six hours until we got it right. Which meant a lot of practice at throwing. Which meant by the end I was just hurling them off his head. The guy I was with in the scene and I had a competition near the end, who could cause the most damage to the actors.

He won. He missed Jim but he got this other actor right in the eye. The poor actor couldnt help but flinch at everytake after that.

And Robin. Dear, dear Robin. You could hardly do a minute without him throwing some crazy joke, crazy accent, crazy jab at Britney Spears....make that many jabs at Britney Spears. And Michael Richards...and Mel Gibson...and Ted Turner...and so on. At one point I turned to my guy and said "Seriously, you give that man one second of silence and he eats it up."

As if on cue, Robin went on, grabbing the sound mic and pretending to be an operator on a New Zealand sex line. Let's just say the joke involved lots of sheep. And, oh yes, we laughed our asses off.

When we were not throwing quarters and maiming actors, listening to Robin's stand-up or stuffing our faces with gourmet food, I was trying to figure out who this one actor was. This guy:

He bugged me aalllll day. I couldn't place his face I just knew he looked familiar. I knew his name, Brian something or other, but that was it. I even spent some time talking to him (about potato skins and stale beer, don't ask)but all I could think about was saying "Excuse me, who are you?"

Only now do I realize he's from The Office. I watch this show and yet couldn't figure him out for the life of me. Oh well. He's a hilarious guy, by the way.

Hmmm, what else? Well, I was used more prodominantly for another scene in which I had to toast Robin Williams. Quite a bit of acting was required, which was not common for mere extras. In between takes, I talked to the 1st Assistant AD who seemed to take quite a shine to me, and Ken Kwapis, the director himself, who gave me an affectionate bop on the leg.

Anyhoo, the shoot was long but enjoyable...especially enjoyable when we went past 12 hours and started making double time...$30 an hour, baby! The people on the shoot were super nice which helps and when I wasn't on set I was downstairs in the bar "The Cellar" and lounging in their VIP room with other extras and laughing our asses off at our delirium. It's funny how on extra sets you just bond with the other people, especially if they are all your age. One guy (my scene partner) went into a funny tirade about how he left a girl on a date alone after she farted, prompting an hour-long discussion on bodily functions.

So, even in the end, I didn't get the Bride part, I did have a lot of fun, made money just by having to laugh at Robin Williams and stare at John's bum and stuff my face with good food. The only dissapointment was not getting see Mandy Moore. But I felt up her wardrobe, so that's gotta count for something.

Speaking of the bride bit, one of the girls who was there actually ended up getting the part. And she wasn't any of the girls I was at the meeting with. I think the director just picked her out himself.

But here's what is weird...she was a very pretty girl, sweet and only 19 and an aspiring actress...but holy skinny. Skinny enough that all the other skinny girls were commenting on how skinny she was. Her bones jutted out of her dress...she must have been 5'10 and 100 pounds. So no freakin' wonder I didn't the bride part! I had no idea in the end it would go to someone a size 0.

But I guess that's the crazy film industry for you.

Sigh. You at least would have thought I could have gotten the part of the bridesmaid. You would think "once a bridesmaid, never a bride" is definitely something that applies to me.

PORN! - That got your attention...

I just don't get it.

Oh. Porn. Yeah, I get that.

I mean, I like certain types of porn, and I have porn...or should I say, I have a few favourite Internet sites that I can go to in a moment's notice. Free sites, because I'm not that hardcore to start paying for it, but still they get the job done.

So, you can see I have nothing against porn. If I did, it would be very hypocritcal of me.

No, what I don't get is: what is it about your average porn movie that turns a guy on?

Now, this could be one of those huge differences between men and women. It's just when I see most porn videos - and when I say porn videos, I mean the mass-produced, low-budget ones called Lord of the Cock Rings or something (actually LOTCR sounds kinda cool) - all I can think about is how cheesey they are.

I don't understand how cheese (and I mean that with the dialogue, music, actors, plot) can be sexy. When I do watched these videos, I find myself laughing more than being turned on (have you seen the one with the baker doing the girl in the bakery and he keeps cracking eggs on her head and rubbing flour on her chest?).

What kind of porn do I find sexy, then? Anything slightly voyeristic or amatuerish gets my goat (and speaking of, please leave goats and animals out of it). Anything that's real or hints at being real. Homemade sex tapes are seriously hot (except Paris Hilton's, that girl has no clue) as well as anything with a hint of a plot, with more drama and acting than whaa-whaaa-whaaa music.

A great porn video would be set a a dark and rainy night. A gorgeous woman in thigh-highs and a raincoat checks into an old motel. Meanwhile there is a sinister but insanely hot man who is terrorizing women in rusty, roadside motels. He sneaks up on the woman when she is in the steamy shower, lathering up. She screams and drops the soap. He drops his pants. She smiles and says in a throaty, Scarlett Johansson-ish voice "I'll do anything, just please don't kill me." He obliges, grabs her and they go at it. Maybe they are joined by the maid...I don't know.

See? Isn't that a bit more exciting than some trucker named Lance pulling into a truckstop only to be ambushed right away by one fake tittied blonde after another?

Or maybe I'm just being a girl about this.

You lose some, you win some

Thursday morning I woke up and was immediately faced with the odd goal of "How to look like a bride."

The night before, my agent called and gave me more of a low-down on the situation. Ken Kwapis, the director of Licence to Wed, which is now officially re-shooting in Vancouver, wanted to meet with me at 10:30AM at the Vancouver Film Studios, and I was to bring headshots and a resume. My agent advised me to not show up in a wedding dress (damn!), but to wear something "upscale casual" and have my hair and makeup done like it was my wedding.

Right. My wedding. See, hard enough as it is to believe, I've never been the kind of girl to plan out my wedding...I have no idea where it would be (though my parents have this strange notion that I will be getting married at the Royal Vancouver Yacht Club and that I would be dropped off there by my dad's sailboat...keep dreaming Dad), haven't given much thought to the dress and definitely have no idea what my hair and makeup would be like. I didn't want to jinx myself.

So it was a bit odd to find myself pondering how I wanted to look for my fake wedding...it reminded me of getting ready for Graduation.

I settled on putting my hair up (like above, left) and attaching a fancy hairpeice to make the bun more elaborate and went with subtle makeup. And by subtle I mean, I was wearing a lot of makeup, it just didn't look like it. I even had on believable false lashes. I always thought that because I did go to Makeup School For Film and TV at Vancouver Film School, that I would be able to do my face myself.

Nuh-uh. No matter how good you are at doing your make-up, I would advise leaving your face to the proffesionals on that day.

So, off I was to the film studios, with rudimentary headshots in hand (I just printed out a recent B&W picture of me, I hadn't had headshot done since I foolishly wanted to be an actress, about 6 years ago). I didn't even bother with a resume since I don't have any real acting experience and I didn't think they would be impressed with my journalism background.

I arrived at the production office to find another girl waiting there. Soon she was joined by another girl...the two girls knew each other from other extra work and were soon chatting away.

I felt out of place. Not only because I didn't know them, but they both looked similar.

They both had blue eyes, square jaws, light hair...and biggish noses. I'm not being catty but I did start to feel like I stood out...though not neccesarily in a good way. They had the look of just your average pretty girl...albeit with big boobs....and they reminded me of servers at Earls or any other sort of semi-trendy restaurant. Then there was me, with my hair up, my petite ski-jump nose, small face and brown eyes.

After waiting for quite awhile (turns out there was a fourth girl, but she never showed), we were called into Ken's office.

He was a pleasant, happy-looking guy and not one of those intimidating film directors, which was great. He shook our hands, took our pics from us and then informed us that he was basically just going to stare at us for a minute or two and then we would be on our way.

Ready, set, STARE!

That was pretty much the extent of the interview. He talked to us, but the other girls seemed to embrace it more and were more animated. I felt like I really didn't belong there. The only thing that I got excited about was the fact that he seemed to stare at me for a pretty long time...though that's not always a good thing. On the plus side, it was judging us purely on our faces. We never even had to take off our coats so he never knew how un-skinny I was.

Then we were sent on our way. On the drive home I thought about reasons things could go in my favour or not. My hair was up, more bridal style and I had a white coat on, again, more bridal, where as the other girls had dark coats. I had a prettier face, more innocent looking, but not as "sexy" as the other girls. Then again, the other girls looked a lot alike and maybe that's the look he was after. I also didn't have a resume, so perhaps I wouldn't be remembered so well.

What an odd thing to be worried about, when you think about it. Did I look more bride-worthy than the other two?

Anyway, an hour later my agent called and informed me that I did NOT have the part. I felt utterly dissapointed, more than I thought I would. I wanted to wear that bloody dress, damnit!

But...

She then went on to say that the director liked me and wants to use me in Licence to Wed on Monday as either a waitress or a bar patron. The wage too is higher than what extra's normally get so that was an added bonus...maybe it's more than just background work? Plus, I reminded myself that out of all the Extras/Actressses in Vancouver, he chose me and three other girls.

That's got to count for something.

So I guess it worked out. Being a bride will have to wait until one day when some guy is stupid enough to marry me, but hey, I can easily play a person in a bar. And I still might be able to stalk Jim from The Office ( I really should find out his real name).

*****************************
In other news, I am so sick of gaining weight for no apparent reason (other than the fact that I eat like my boyfriend but can't afford to) and feeling like a slug that I have taken a proactive approach and signed up for Cardio Core Bootcamp.

Yes, I did sign up for it before but they never got in contact with me. This time, they have to...they have my deposit. They owe it to me to whip my ass into shape and make me feel like Jodie Foster running the obstacle course in Silence of the Lambs until tears are running down my face and drill sargeants are screaming in my ears. I've also started jogging...but I'm finding that since I am soooo out of shape, it is an extremely long learning curve. An extremely long, painful, limping, wheezing learning curve.

Nonetheless, I plugged away at it for an hour today and hopefully, with time, can build up enough stamina to go the distance. I just want to be proud of my body and not ashamed of it, and yes even though I did lose 18 pounds (and now gained 10 back) last year due to the South Beach Diet an NO excercise, I just want to get fit, get tone and feel strong. And no diet can do that alone.

So here's to new oppurtunities and getting off my fat ass!

Glad that's over with

...Valentine's Day, of course.

Just because I am in a relationship, doesn't mean I appreciate the commercial cheese of this discriminating date.

That said, I had an excellent one ;)

Ross surprised me with a day at this really nice spa. I thought this was beyond sweet since I think I mentioned in the past that I had never been to a spa, so he remembered this and booked me three hours there for a back massage, manicure and facial (ah, yes, there were a lot of facial jokes to follow). I, on the other hand, bought him the Need For Speed collectors series - all three games in one....and no, I obviously haven't learned my lesson about not buying your man video games.

Anyhoo was a lot more romantic than last years present (see the bear, top left).

Actually, I'm kidding. I loved that wee bear and before we even started going out, I showed him a picture of it (I saw it advertised on Perez Hilton) because I thought that it was the shit! How can you not like a bear that says what guys really mean? So, yes, I admit I was thrilled when Ross gave it to me last year.

Back to the spa: I was totally looking forward to some pampering...especially since in a few hours time I had a job interview.

Yes, a job interview and not the bridal one. This one was also for film, but for an office production assistant for a sound production company. The guy had received my resume a month ago and called me up for a interview out of the blue. Sweet.

Anyway, I arrived at the spa, a drowned rat thanks to Vancouver's pissing weather, and was immediately in heaven. My esthnetician was Stephanie, a pretty young girl my age with a chin stud and long black hair. I was thankful to have her instead of some old massuer.

The massage was lovely. Beyond lovely. I've never had a massage before (aside from the ones that hurt...the ones that loved ones give you) so I was in pure heaven for a 1/2 hour. I could literally feel the knots being smoothed out of my back. And the much-needed manicure and facial to follow made me feel all tenderized and warm inside. Bliss!

What made this spa visit most interesting though, was the lovely Stephanie.

It turned out that Stephanie had moved out here with her fiance from Ottawa and had been in Vancouver for about four months. She was elated because that day she found out that she was accepted for an apartment downtown and could move out the ghetto of East Van.

I asked her where she was living and it turned out, it was on my street. Small world, eh?

So I tried to find out where exactly...she wasn't really sure since she doesn't know Vancouver well and she couldn't remember the address...but with her description of nearby cross streets I started to deduce that she was quite close to me.

Then I started complaining about my apartment building.

Me: The maintenence fees are so high (whinge). But I guess because it has a pool on the roof.

Stephanie: Really? My building has a pool on the roof, too.

Me: Huh, well, I guess if you Google Earth it, lot's of apartments in that area have pools on roofs. How tall is your building, maybe I know it.

Steph: Not too tall.

Me: Mine's 12 floors.

Steph: Yah, so is this one.

Me: Huh...hmmmm. Can't really think of it. I'll have to go for a walk tomorrow and look around. So is it new?

Steph: Not really, it's being renovated so the carpets in the lobby are all ripped up and it stinks like fresh paint.

Me: Yeah, I hate that smell! People in my building have been painting too and they painted my door an ugly poo colour. They are replacing the carpets too...pain in the ass.

Steph: Yeah this building is painted this light brown inside. That sucks.

Me: Yah, the apartment manager is this Yugoslavian psycho. She is rough and you can hardly understand a word she says.

Steph: Really? What's her name.

Me: Crazy Apartment Manager? I have no idea, really. But she's terrible, she hasn't fixed the elevators yet.

Steph: Yeah, the elevators in my building don't work properly either. The apartment manager told me this and as if on cue, the doors opened between floors. She had a thick, Eastern European accent too...

Me: Huh...well, in my building....

Yeah. So, we continued on like this for about 10 minutes before it dawned on us that our apartments were in the same building.

But yay! Now I will actually know someone in the building and on top of it Steph said she would give me her staff discounts on products and we could hang out and drink lots of wine. It'll be just like Friends! And the more we got to talking, the more we realized how alike we were. I explained more of this to Ross and all he could think of was how there were going to be two of "me" in the building. Too much for one apartment to take.

And on an even better note, the crazy apartment managers are retiring as of March 1st! Score one for me.

Righty, so after I left the spa, all glowy and refreshed (in reality, "pink faced" and "sleepy") I rushed home to prepare for the job interview. Even though I couldn't have been more unprepared...I had to print out my resume on photo paper!

A six-minute drive later (how convenient) I arrived at the production offices. The interview actually ended up going on for an hour. I wasn't too sure about the job though. All I could deduce was that the man was very thorough and that the job was very hard. Extremely high stressed and fast-paced. And that I wouldn't actually know what the job was until the second interview (if there was to be one)...all that I got out of it was that it was very important and not something everyone can do. And that it involved dubbing dialouge and sound exclusively for animated films and tv shows (such as Ghost in the Shell and anime shows).

At this point I started to worry since, although I can handle high-stress and fast-paced jobs (the IFA had its hectic days...and I mean, hectic), the more he talked, the more it sounded like I shouldn't take the job. Plus, he added that they only pay $10 an hour for three months of probation and if you are essentially lucky, you might get to stay on and earn more. Not too appealing.

That said, the guy was nice and friendly and he did say that maybe the job wasn't for me considering I pay a mortgage and $10 isn't enough. But I'm going to see what happens, see what the actual job entails, before I decide on anything.

I just got told to come back for the second interview on Tuesday, so we shall see.

As for the romantic part of Valentine's Day, we had decided earliar not to do anything special. We thought it was overpriced and cliched to go out for dinner so we just stayed at mine, had a little picnic of deli food and watched Lost...which was one heck of an episode (for all you Lost fans, check out this Blog, it has all the Lost goodies you wouldn't normally pick up on - including subliminal messaging!).


So, how was your V-Day?


OH and I haven't forgotten about the whole bride thing. I had my interview with the director of The Office today for Licence to Wed (made myself look as bride-tastic as possible too) and already know the outcome. But that will have to wait for tomorrow's post. Mwahaha.

Here Comes The Bride….

I told you I had big news, didn’t I?

Well, guess what happened to me yesterday.

Yup, come next week, I might be a bride.

PSYCH!

No, it’s not what you think, Ross would never be that foolish.

But next week I might be wearing a wedding gown….all for show, of course.

Ken Kwapis, the director of The Office (YAY!), Malcom in the Middle, ER, Sisterhood of some kind of pants, handpicked ME to be considered for the role of a bride in the movie “License to Wed.”

Not only am I so thrilled at the chance to wear a wedding dress (because let’s face it, that’s the only reason I want to get married), but the film stars Mandy Moore (I love her), Robin Williams (whom I’ve already met…actually everyone in my family has met him and all on different occasions) AND Jim from The Office. I love Jim!!!!! He is such a cutie!

You can see some clips from the film here. It is technically in post-production but they are shooting here next week for some re-shoots and pickup scenes.

Now I have an interview with him on Thursday, which means I have 72 hours to lose weight and look great. Nothing like a motivator to get you into shape…even at the last minute.

I know I probably won’t get the part because A) I’m not an actress B) I’m not a movie star type and C) I look like crap on camera. But you know what, that doesn’t even matter.

I’m just thrilled that he picked me, just the ego-boost that I’ve needed lately, and hey, if anything, I get to meet the guy who writes and directs The Office. Maybe I can get the inside scoop on Jim and Pam, ooooooh.

In other news, a reporter from The Province newspaper contacted me about this whole blog drama on Discover Vancouver and he’s told me to contact him if the forum does not take the posting down…which they haven’t yet. If they don’t, it could make a good and relevant news story, and an interesting one because, honestly, when does free speech go too far? When does it become libel, slander and defamatory (I could tell you all of this from my Media Law classes last year but I was barely in class). Either way, it’s pretty cool that this whole negative thing has turned out super positive…and even in unexpected ways, as I will get into later.

Ah and the final triumph of the day was that Kelley Baker, whom I interviewed when I worked as the Writer and Editor for the IFA (interview is here), is coming to Vancouver next week with his popular film-making seminar that has taken North America by storm. Since I’ve been in contact with Kelley, I have another interview lined up with him soon and am currently shopping around the query to news outlets in the city. I’ll let you know how that goes and I’ll blog about what Kelly does at the end of this week, in case anyone here wants to learn how to make a “real” indie film.

But back to this whole blog drama….I promise this will be the last time I'll touch on this.

For the record, I do not think my last post was an overreaction in anyway shape or form. I have a right to defend myself on my blog and I do not think that amounts to acting anything like a high schooler, nor does it lump me in the same category as my troll. Thankfully, almost all of you are in agreeance with me.

Frankly, it is not overreacting because the person lives in my city and knows what I look like. Does this mean I’m going to be walking around looking over my shoulder? No. I know the chances of this person actually stalking me are pretty slim.

But what is eye-opening is the fact that this person, like many sick people out there, lives in a virtual world. Now, by blogging, we ourselves live in this same world as well. But to these types of people, the virtual, online world is their only world. That makes me “real” to this person. That is what makes this potentially dangerous.

I will admit, however, that I brought this on myself. The “why me” answer is simple: I post pictures of myself on my blog and I write about personal details of my life.

I was naïve to think that by inviting everyone to read me on this World Wide Web, that I wouldn’t attract negativity along with positivity. I am not anonymous and should have been better prepared for the fact that this phenomenon that we call the Internet attracts bad people as well as good, and in fact is a breeding ground for messed-up people who can not function in society, or "real life."

After all, if you are going to leave your car unlocked on the street for days, eventually someone is going to come along and steal it. The same goes for my blog, which is basically an unlocked and open invitation to parts of my life. I, we, have to prepare for that and expect it.

What I can do, of course, is shut down the blog. I admit it’s an option, but it’s what this person wants and I do not wish to appease him. What I will do though, is shut down the anonymous comments. Please, if you read my blog and wish to comment, sign up for a Blogger account. I do not wish to give these types of people a “voice” (as Steph says).

And, if that doesn’t work, I will make my blog open to invitation only. Which means that nothing will change for you regulars, its just freaks won’t be able to access it at all. I’ll let you know if it comes to it though and I have no qualms in doing so.

As for that pointless forum devoted to yours truly, I've stopped reading it and I suggest you do too. Nothing new is being said, it's just the same old things posted by the same old person. By ignoring it and not reading it, it works only in my favour now. I get the traffic to my blog from that site (up to 150 a day now!) and I don't have to waste my time with the same inane and unfounded drivel.

So, as you can see, with a little bit of bad, comes a lot of good.

Woot! (Happy Dance!)



Dancing Elmo courtesy of sodamnfunny.com.

My Foray into Notoriety

Calling all Bloggers:

As we all know, the blog world is a temperamental one. We all blog for our own reasons...some of us blog about our daily happenings ("Funny thing happened to me on the way to work today"), some blog about our opinions ("Why dating in the city sucks"), some blog about love lives or lack there of("So I'm still not getting any...), some blog to share stories and travels ("My feet hurt after walking in Paris all day"), and a lot of us blog for all these reasons combined.

This is what blogging is. It is self-publishing, a WeBlog...we decide what gets written, we decide what we want to say and we can have the whole world listen. This is the beauty of blogging, is it not?

Lately, my blog has been beseiged by an anonymous commentor. This commentor stumbled across my blog one day after I posted a comment on a Beyond Robson post (a Vancouver Community Blog which I am in talks to actually start blogging for). He read a travel post of mine, decided he didn't like what he read and left a malicious comment. I took note of his IP address and left it at that.

Days later, he returned to another post...one that was just about Ross's Birthday and decided that this was a good place to have his opinion heard. If you would like to read his inane comments, you can click here.

As he went on with comments such as "keep trying to make those cuffs and collars match. lol" (wtf does that even mean?), "Boring life, boring blog. I'd be drinking like you too if I had that life." and "If you really want to be a writer, you should give something with more depth? Right now its frivolous and extremely light." (sorry, I'm saving my suicide poems for another blog), he pretended to be other people too...not clever enough to realize that careful deduction and my site meter had him pegged as the same person each time.

While he was annoying because, A) it didn't make too much sense and B) shut up already, what he was saying wasn't getting to me.

Why? Because frankly, I don't care if he doesn't think I'm a good writer or not because, hey who asked him and, well, I must be doing something right for him to keep coming back like this. He was obviously bitter, as Rachel pointed out.

Then he came out with this beauty of a comment, one that wasn't just about me but about all blogger's in general:

"Um, I'm not that anonymous individual or dg that you were talking about.(Um, yes you are and I love you Sitemeter!!!)

My name is Julian. Did I miss a rule that says I must submit all my personal info somewhere? Seriously. Or did you just want attempt a blog for 'friends' to read and comment on because it sure is looking that way?

I just saw that anonymous/dg person made a remark that touched off quite alot of comments back. And I was just trying to see it from all angles. You know, outside the box type of thing. Thats it. Thats all, really.

I am starting to see it from that person's side though now unfortunately, about touching a nerve or whatever. Hmm.
You don't seem like the kind that would fence yourself in?
I certainly hope none of you are this vicious in real life.

And really in a sense aren't we all anonymous and contradicting ourselves by not submitting quite everything.?

I mean thats a discussion within itself, we write for all kinds of reasons, ultimately we would like someone to read blogs we, ourselves have written but as long as its at arms length, then everything should be ok, right? But how true is that, to even ourselves?

We all seem to be contradicting ourselves on blogs, no matter how open and clever we think we are for the world to read.
There are jobs we are protecting ourselves from by not writing about certain things, secrets from partners, etc.

My question is, when does the real writing begin with us ALL?"

What do you think about that? Apparently, as writers and bloggers we have a certain job to do...a job according to him. Funny, when I signed up for a blogger account, I don't recall have to sign a form that said we all had to write about certain things...

Anyway, I decided the best thing to do would be to ignore him. What this guy wanted/wants is attention and I really didn't want to give it to him.

That was until I noticed a hell of a lot of hits coming into my blog...over 140 in a day, 20 the last hour! Holy hell! And all from the Discover Vancouver Forum, a local message board for the city where I found the following forum: "Crappy Vancouver Blogs" and a direct link to my blog.

Unbelievable.

This person has SUCH a grudge against me that they actually went out of their way to start a forum on how much my blog sucks! It's sorta funny but mainly just sad and a wee bit creepy.

Especially since the people who were coming to my blog were reading it for a few minutes and leaving and not going back to the Vancouver Forum, or not even reading my blog at all...and yet, suddenly I get all these negative comments. ...hmmm. Strange how people who weren't even reading my blog were leaving these comments that all sound a bit...familiar.

My theory is that yes, I'm sure some people have a problem with my blog but this one PYSCHO is probably leaving most of them.

Why? Because no one on my blog would ever agree with him, but he can start his own blog of such and then make it seems like lots of people really DO agree with him.

Sad, scary and unnerving...and yet I was still willing to ignore it.

Until he started stealing pics off of my blog and posting them up there for people to make fun of.

That's going too far.

You can make hateful comments about my blog from your online soapbox (while remaining deliciously anonymous) but seriously, when you bring my picture in to it, that's getting extremely scary.

I feel like Hilary Duff, Madonna or Jodie Foster...I just hope this guy isn't going to track me down and then go and shoot a President for me (although, maybe I wouldn't be that gutted about Bush...kidding ;)

I know that when you aren't anonymous that there can be some problems associated with it. Yes, people might know who you are and yes not everyone is going to like you...such is life.

But I never in a million years, thought that someone I don't know would detest me and my blog so much that they would go out of their way to try and make a point...and the thing is, I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT THE POINT IS!

There's not much I can do, except that Vancouver Forum will take that down soon because making fun of someone in the city just for spite isn't exactly something that's discussion worthy.

It's just plain sad.

The thing I don't understand though is, why me?

My blog isn't controversial (not too much anyway). I have lots of readers, everyone (ha, except one) seems to enjoy it and I get nothing but postitive feedback.

I find it amazing that little ol' me has the power to infuriate someone so much that they have made it their life's mission to try and bring me down.

Well, you can post my picture up all you like baby, because perhaps a little fame and notoriety is all I need to cement myself in the blogging world.

So, what do all of you think? Am I alone on this? I know Steph got recognized at the airport and she's not even anonymous! Anyone else had to deal with jealous psychos because of their blog?

And is this the kind of things all Bloggers should potentially prepare for?


(and by the way, you can read my stalker's pointless and city-wide post HERE.)

Is Polygamy is the New Black?

Seems like everywhere you turn these days, it’s all about polygamy. But like skinny jeans, this new trend doesn't suit everyone. In fact, it seems like a lot of women are trying it on for size, just because it's in, without having any regard to whether this is something that truly flatters them.

Suddenly, being monogamous is seen as “old-fashioned,” “boring” and “stifling.” Open marriages on the rise (though divorce rates are very high but nevermind that) and women are refusing to feel guilty for settling down with one man. Even cheating seems to have become commonplace and heralded among women of all ages. The cheating gap between men and women has shortened, as has the average number of partners (14 for men, 11 for women).

Why is this? I have a few ideas…but let’s take a look at these reasons from these telling quotes of today's rising stars and see what we can come up….

"Sex And The City changed everything for me because those girls would just sleep with so many people. And that's me. I'm not dating just one person. It is the variety of partners everyone likes, especially at my age. I'm like Angelina Jolie, taking on lovers. I don't need a steady relationship. I mean if the sex is bad, the relationship's not going anywhere. Anyway, I don't even think I have had my best kiss yet. My mom's going to kill me for talking about sleeping with people!" – Lindsay Lohan

What dear messed up 20-year old Lindsay fails to grasp is that yes, Angelina has taken on lovers…but in an interview she has stated that as sexual as she is, she has only slept with 5 people and all have been monogamous.

So I have to wonder, is Lindsay trying to seem “cool” by being anti-monogamous? Are most women who say they don’t believe in monogamy saying it because they actually believe it, or saying it because it’s “trendy?”

Does Lindsay believe that saying no to commitment and sleeping around makes her seem more sexual (like she believe Angelina is),or more tough as balls (again, like Angelina)?

Perhaps…though quite frankly, your number has nothing to do with how sexual you are. More variety perhaps, but people who are more choosey aren’t any less sexual.

So maybe it’s about being seen as a “tough, strong” chick?

To me, this is a bit more understandable. After all, one of the so-called weaknesses of being a woman is the fact that it’s hard for us not to become emotionally involved. So it would seem that a woman who can have sex without strings and regrets would be seen as someone who is “emotionally stronger” than most.

Or is it a case of “Well, the man is going to cheat on me anyway, might as well beat him to it?”

I’ve been there, I’ve been cheated on and I know that feeling of foolishness that comes with it. You wonder how could you have been so stupid and you feel like such an ass that he thought he was getting away with it all that time. When you enter the dating world again, there is a huge hate for mankind and a surge of not wanting to appear the fool. You figure “Better beat him to it.”

Of course, the downside to that is not only are you pimping yourself for revenge and spite but you might be cheating on a wonderful guy who may not have any intentions of cheating on you. Believe me, these monogamous and faithful men are out there.

Then there is the second quote of the day:

"If for some reason, that's what he has to go do, I just don't want to know. As long as things are good in our house, just please, don't get caught." - Kate Hudson when asked how she would feel is her husband cheated on her. "Monogamy isn't realistic."

Normally this would seem like Kate is just accepting it as part of her free spirit persona...and yes, since we know she cheated on her husband with Owen Wilson, I reckon she would probably turn a blind eye. But even if Kate wasn't the smiley wild child, would being ignorant of marital infidelity be OK? Aren't there women out there who think they deserve more than to be cheated on...or are they just too busy playing the field themselves?

On to our third celebrity comment:

“Monogamy is an overrated virtue, because, let's face it, we're fucking animals." – Sienna Miller.

OK, I have to take this with a grain of salt because isn’t Sienna the one who was literally screwed over when Jude Law cheated on her with the fugly nanny? Isn’t she kind of giving in to the whole incident by suddenly saying, “nah, what Jude did was totally understandable.” Does she think that by saying this, she’s not coming across like the victim? Because it seems a bit like she’s saving face by pretending that what Jude did to her was OK.

Otherwise, lets look at her pont of view. It is valid. My religious beliefs have me believe that we are meant to be with just one person at a time…but putting that aside (and well polygamy is splashed all over the Bible) we are animals. That said, it is our humanity that reaches above being just an animal. We have morals and beliefs and self-control, while animals do not.

We also feel love and attachment, and yes, jealousy. I don’t believe polygamy can work unless there is an absence of these things.

Like everything, monogamy is a personal choice. If people truly can appreciate variety by having many partners and are able to emotionally detach from the situation, then all the power to them.

As for an overrated virtue, I completely disagree…if anything being monogamous has become an underrated virtue, especially with this trend for polygamy on the rise.

Other than that, I hope “we are fucking animals” wasn’t mean to be taking literally…strange stuff goes on in them Hollywood Hills.

Finally we have our fourth quote:

"I wouldn't say I'm a serial monogamist, either. I mean, I went through periods of time when I was, ah, single. But when I'm in a relationship, I'm in a relationship. I do think on some basic level we are animals, and by instinct we kind of breed accordingly. But as much as I believe that, I work really hard when I'm in a relationship to make it work in a monogamous way." - Scarlett Johansson.

I think good ol' Scarl has summed up what a lot of women think. Sometimes it can be hard to ignore the adage "Variety is the spice of life" but when it comes down to it monogamy is more than possible for anyone who wants it.

While polygamy may be the new phase of "sexual empowerment" I think a lot of people who have jumped on this bandwagon have to ask themselves if it's a look they are truly comfortable with or are they wearing it just for the sake of fitting in.

So…why are you - or aren't you - monogamous?

New Year's Eve in Paris, Yeah Baby!

Ah yes...time for the long-awaited (and just plain looong), highly-anticipated New Years Eve in Paris Post. It took ages to get to it but it is finally here! All rejoice in the land!

Though I must warn you...it's actually not that exciting (and definitely isn't at all like the picture to the left). Although I like to pretend it was.

Yes, there was a moment when I thought I was going to die and yes it was a proud moment when I found my way through unfamiliar, dark Paris streets. But...honestly? We didn't really do much. I mean, really. That said, I did take a crapload of pictures as per the usual, have lots of stupid videos to share and it was the best New Years I have ever had.

Keep in mind, though, that I hate New Years and all of mine usually suck...a lot (unless I'm in any other place than Vancouver, so it seems).

I decided to skip over my last day's in Scotland because it was more sad than exciting. I did manage to cram one more castle into my trip:

Sterling Castle

But sadly it was from our moving car as it zipped towards the airport. Boo.

Anyway, it truly was hard to leave. I spent 6 days in Scotland and it was starting to feel like home....in a really good way.

We had a late flight going into Lyon (we were to catch the TGV to Paris the next day) and upon landing Ross had the unwanted task of trying to explain (in French) to the taxi driver where his sister's flat was. Thing is, even though we had the address written down and we showed him, he had no clue. And we couldn't have told him where the nearest cross street was or nearest attraction. I kept mentioning the Wallace Pub but it was met with a blank stare. The taxi driver obviously wasn't a fan of Scotch.

Ross did an excellent job though, and despite for a moment thinking the driver was going to stiff us on route, take our money and deposit our bodies in the Soane, we ended up in front of Cat's flat and settled in for a very long sleep.

The next morning was, of course, December 31st. We decided to pop into the Wallace to hand over Cat's keys to the owner (they are a trusting bunch) and, well, it just seemed like a place we had to say goodbye to. Too many beers were had here, too many times my skirt was tucked into my thong (OK, once...but that's enough!)


The TGV was nicer going back to Paris then coming here as we didnt have to sit across from anyone. And of course we weren't so tired that we couldn't enjoy the landscape that whizzed by at 50 million miles an hour. The only minor thing was the fact that Ross forgot a duffel bag which housed his jeans, my (old) boots and Xmas presents. I only mention the fact that he forgot it because, for once, something didn't go wrong on the account of me. And I don't think it will ever happen again.


We arrived at the Gare de Lyon and I immediately switched into Metro Mode. I think I impressed Ross with my internal GPS which I accrued at a mere glance of the metro map. What was also impressive was our Parisienne welcome...classical buskers were hammering it out in the hallways.


In no time we arrived at our hotel. It was a piece of cake finding it since I had stayed there for a week the year before. The eccentric owner was the same, as was the neighbourhood cafes and shops. It felt familiar and nice to be back and it was great to be able to share my previous discoveries with Ross. It was even nicer to be able to eat in the local cafes with someone and not be alone as solo travelers usually are. And even nicer yet was getting Ross to order so I didn't have to embarass myself by ordering another "cup" of wine.

Of course, after we unpacked and had a nap, it came time for the crucial question.

It was New Years Eve. In Paris. We had no plans. What the hell were we going to do?

As it happened though, the room we were in this time was up 5 floors (no elevator, wheeeze) and not as soundproof as the one I had on my last visit. By that, I mean I could hear everything that was going on in the next room over and across the hall. That meant taps running, people peeing, doors creeking, beds squeaking...and every word of conversation.

Turns out the two rooms were taken over by some family of sorts from the states. With their loud Southern accents I could hear everything...and since one of the girls had actually been living in Paris for awhile, I could hear all of her advice for the evening.

Whatever she said was true. There was no point going to a bar or a restaurant because they were already booked or closed for private parties. When someone asked if it was best to go to the Eiffel Tower for the celebrations, she said the Champs Elysees was a better bet since the fireworks weren't going off at the tower this year.

So Ross and I eagerly took in this advice (not going out to eat meant saving money and we were bone dry after Britain) and got ready and for a night out on the town of all towns. I had bought this amazing dress off of the UK Ebay especially for the occassion: a Jane Norman satin strapless dress at 50% off. I was a bit concerned though since I had gained a few pounds since I bought it and the dress had already fit me like a glove. But I think I made it work....tried to anyway.


Only it started to piss outside with rain. And my camera ran out of batteries and I ran out of champagne. Being brave souls we decided to venture out into the streets to find a store that might be open...sans umbrella.

It didn't look good....

...but we braved it anyway.

Ten minutes later, with our mission accomplished, we were drowned rats and with New Years just a few hours away, all I could think about was how miserable I was going to be standing in the rain all night.

So he cracked open the champagne...


...and I cracked open the mini red martinis.

And we toasted each other while waiting to dry off...


...and tucked into our New Years Eve dinner that consisted of potato salad, Pringles, diet muffins, brie and bread. We pretended it was gourmet.(Warning: the following video of our hotel room is fairly boring).



Then as 11PM approached, I made some last minute finishing touches...


...which were a bit all over the place due to the quickly drunken champagne...and as you can see...I am also a bit all over the place. And no, I don't really dance like this..I swear.(Warning: the following video of me getting ready makes me look incredibly silly)



With booze tucked away in our clothing we headed out into the streets...and guess what? The rain had stopped. We made our way through the balmy, damp streets and down to the metro to wait with all the other drunken revelers.


To our surprise it wasn't as crowded as we thought it would be. That is till we got on the train. Champagne central!


When the metro stopped at Champs Elysee, well, that's when the chaos began...

It was mobbed. And I mean MOBBED. Several metro lines with hundreds of passengers each all bottlenecked together up a narrow stairwell...(Warning: the following video does not capture the full choas of the situation)



...then through only one open gate and then through to the outside. I was actually afraid for my life. There was at least 500 drunk people trying to go through ONE exit.

People were screaming! Girls were being trampled! People were pushing and shoving and pulling and yelling. I was soon soaked in random champagne. The police were there but even they couldn't do much but get swept through this outflowing tide. I just hung on to Ross and let myself go limp. We literally were squeezed out of the tube, at times I was moving and my feet weren't even touching the ground!

Thankfully we found our way to the top like gophers scurrying out of a hole (the one in Caddyshack comes to mind) and before us lay the Champs Elysees, that famous boulevard, all lit up with lights with the Arc de Triomphe at one end...

And the Place de Concorde at the other.

Before we even got a chance to let the vibrancy of the situation settle in, some young and drunk French guy accousted me and begged Ross to take a photo of us. We obliged and I smiled sweetly for the cameras while the guy yelled "Bonne Annee!" in my ear. Then he was off with a shot as fireworks from all around us started to go off.

OK, so this video actually is a bit entertaining...kinda

Ross's watch said we had plenty of time so we were a bit unsure if it was New Years or not. But after the billionth firework went off from beside us and the millionth person shouted "Bonne Annee!" we got the picture.



Happy New Year!


We toasted each other and decided to walk down the street towards the Arc but it was too packed (there was 500,000 people there! Can you believe it?) and there were too many fireworks/crackers. I've seen too many firecracker safety videos during assemblies in grade school to know how darn scary those things are.

So we found this little bench off to the side and spent our time drinking and watching the New Years Eve in Paris unfold before our eyes.


What was most amazing was the fact that it was warm! A humid breeze would occasionally drift past...and of course, still no rain. You couldn't have asked for a better night.


After awhile though we headed off for the hotel. We decided against the death trap that is the metro and would walk instead. We stopped in for an expensive drink at a cafe (talk about hiking up the prices for New Years)...

Contemplating the past year
And then set off. Here comes the amazing part. We were on the Right Bank. The hotel is on the Left Bank. While I have walked over the Pont Alexander (one of the many bridges across the Seine) before, it was over a year ago and it was always in the daytime. When you travel alone, you don't tend to frequent Paris streets at night.

So using the soaring heights of the lit-up Montparnasse Tower as a beacon, we walked. We went down streets I never heard of, around strange corners, past hidden museums and dark parks. There wasn't one street that I had heard of, one building that looked familiar (that said, all buildings in Paris look alike). I just kept walking as if I knew Paris like the back of my hand.


A half hour later we showed up in front of the hotel. I don't know how I did it but it wasn't to be the last time either. Too bad my internal GPS only works with geographical directions. I'd love to be able to apply it to the rest of my life!