Texts From Last Period

Don't worry, there will be a Post of Substance tomorrow, but for tonight I wanted to share perhaps the most Canadian communication I have ever taken part in. My friend Jo couldn't watch Game 7 tonight (and thus missed out on its blessed result), so I was put on text duty to keep her informed of the score. Between things like "4-0. I don't even know. 4-0." and "They did it! 5-2 final score." There was this little nugget of maple-flavoured goodness:

"Don cherry's suit is purple velour [sic] with satin trim tonight."

Mumble, Grumble, Go Habs Go

Events have conspired to turn me, a person who hated all sports except for college football, into someone who's avidly watching the Montreal Canadiens' run in the NHL playoffs. I thought for sure that the charmingly gap-toothed Ovechkin would get them, but they beat the Caps. And then I thought the Penguins and Sidney Crosby's questionable facial hair would do it, but goddamn it, they sent it to game 7. Now I'll proudly suffer those maudlin Tim Horton's ads, Don Cherry's suits and the terrible new Hockey Night in Canada theme just to watch a game.

I would like to say that I have a certain sympathy for Jaroslav Halak, because I often feel like the 200th-odd pick in life, but the truth is I lack his hand/eye coordination, so I'll just say I enjoy seeing this diverse and annoyingly abrasive city come together, as one... so that it can likely destroy a small part of itself in celebration of a win.

The Book Pile

I haven't done one of these in a while, eh? Alright, let's see what today's Diagram of Reading has in store.

1. Yes, That's A Harlequin Romance Novel: An Honorable Man, Darlene Gardner. I'm reading this as a favor to a friend. I am saddened by the lack of raised, metallic lettering and shirtless Fabio on the cover.
2. Just Finished: Riotous Assembly, Tom Sharpe. Someone from work loaned this to me and I'm indebted, because it's hilarious.
3. Non-Fiction For Edumakayshun: What's The Matter With Kansas, Thomas Frank. I read this in the (possibly doomed) hope of understanding the genesis of Tea Partiers.
4. Easy Reading, Not Listening: 33 1/3, Pet Sounds: Jim Fusilli. This book will be the reason I give Brian Wilson a hug, if I ever run into him.
5. Contemporary Classic: Midnight's Children, Salman Rushdie. First, let me just say that Salman Rushdie is an extremely talented writer. But second, this book is a slog, at least personally. Anyone else might enjoy this, but it seems like Rushdie and I are simply incompatible, maybe even on the level of syntax. Sadly, I've already concluded this and I'm only 100 pages in to a 530 page book.

Tuning Out

We might be in a Golden Age of TV, but I'm missing most of it. I used to download and stream certain shows religiously, but now my TV-watching only happens when I'm drained from work and need a mindless police procedural to dull my aching brain. Anything in the CSI/Criminal Minds/ Law And Order camp works well, I find.

When it comes to decent stuff though, or at least shows that keep the punnage to normal levels, I'm way behind. Some people don't read books. I find that weird, but I shouldn't. I'm the same person. It's just that instead of putting down Anna Karenina after a few pages because it's so long and heavy to lift, I never watch the Wire because it looks complicated and takes so long to download.

In fact, I think my TV-watching has become a victim of that medium's development over the past years. Now that nearly every series has ace writing and intricate story arcs, TV has started to compete for the mental consumption I'm used to pledging to movies and books. And it can't be relied on to fulfill its old function of shoveling enjoyable, untaxing fluff into my brain. I feel like all the series have polarized into two camps: unwatchably mindless or exhaustingly engaging. And when the choice is between Two And A Half Men or another dreary series about a drug-addicted nurse or teacher or whatever, I'm taking the third path of watching neither more and more often.

But, as the husband said to his soon-to-be ex, I can change! I think this is just a matter of re-training my brain to like the delayed gratification of decent TV. Just don't expect that to be The Wire, at least any time soon.

Can You Spot the Real Trailer?

Sorry, a longer post should be in the offing, but I am dead tired. So, instead, an observation. I was checking out the schedule for the Israeli film festival Cinema du Parc is having. Nothing really caught my eye, but I decided to give them all a second chance and YouTube the trailers. That's when I noticed that this movie:

Eyes Wide Open

... is just the Hasidic version of this movie:

... but apparently in all seriousness.

In Defense Of Sam Worthington

Max Rambles has thrown down the Worthington-hating gauntlet, and I am ready to pick it up. Someone has to defend our cement-mugged hero, so here goes.

I TOLERATE SAM WORTHINGTON

Why do people hate Sam Worthington for the sins of his directors (and screenwriters?) He's a competent actor, who had the misfortune of being saddled with some of the worst dialogue committed to screen since Lucas stopped making prequels. Take his work in Terminator, particularly the Lifetime Terminators for Women scene by the campfire. You could try replacing him with any great actor from past to present, Olivier to Day Lewis and even they would look ridiculous trying to emote with a former Lakers girl snuggled in their armpit.

Or Avatar. He's so barely on screen with his real face, that hating on him in the movie is kind of like hating on the various voice actors in Disney movies. Now, I don't remember much of the movie because I was too busy fighting Imax and 3D-derived nausea to follow the plot (such as it was,) but I remember being impressed by Worthington's earlier scenes conveying wonder at being able to float weightlessly in space and bitterness at being earth and chair-bound the rest of the time. It even broke through the thin veneer of CGI that covered everything in that movie.

I haven't seen Clash of the Titans yet, because I just don't have the constitution for another 3D "experience." But it seems like he's the least of that movie's problems, considering the supposedly god-awful 3D conversion it has suffered. At least he's no Harry Hamlin. Thanks to his bricklaying background, Worthington at least looks like he can lift a sword. And thanks to his buzz cut, I'm not concerned he's rent a small tear in the ozone layer, like a certain Hamlin bouffant.

I find Worthington to be a good compromise between the 'roided-up dude stars of yesteryear and the current crop of baby-faced actors I'm supposed to take seriously as men of action. I am a 5"1-inch person who loses daily battles against jar lids, but I still think I can take on Leonardo DiCaprio and Tobey Maguire. Possibly at the same time. I'm not so eager to cross Sam Worthington though. In short, he's Bruce Willis with a soul graft.

Even if your personal feelings differ though, I think we can all agree that judging based on three movies that, shall we say, offer little material for the actor's craft is a little harsh. Let him appear in something that wasn't filmed in front of the green screen and let's see what he can do. If not that, maybe we can least find him an action film that hasn't had a lobotomy, so we can see whether he's the next Harrison Ford - or just another Mark Hamill.

Cupcaking It Up At Petits Gateaux

About two years ago, I talked about the cupcakes from Itsi Bitsi. At some point, I thought about trying all the cupcake places in Montreal and blogging about it. Sadly, that idea was resigned to the dustbin of my mind, to make time with my many knitting pattern ideas and dreams of opening a shop.

By this point though, I think I have actually tried them all by accident. I've had chocolate, vanilla and red velvet. I've eaten them at craft fairs, I've feasted on them with milk, I've carried them home in tiny little boxes. The last is the hardest thing to do, as I found out yesterday.

I happened to be by Petits Gateaux, a place I've tried before, buying tea. Since the day couldn't reach maximum twee-ness without a cup of cake or two, I decided to stop in and see how they were holding up.The Choco-something avec Fruits de la Passion caught my eye and I got it to go, figuring I could snap a photo and post it here. I realized what a terrible idea that was five minutes into my 55-minute walk back home. With each painful step, I mourned the fact that the cupcake was in its really cute little box and not my mouth. About 25 minutes in, and I started hallucinating that the street signs were shaped like cupcakes.

Somehow, I had the willpower to make it home though.

The Review: This one offered a macaroon-like base topped with simple chocolate cake. I thought the cake part was a little on the dry side, but the icing was divine. That's where the passion fruit came in and it's an inspired idea. It was so bright and smooth I attempted to nibble all the cake away so I could just focus on the icing.
Conclusion: A solid B for the cupcake, but an A+ for that beyond-adorable box. I felt like I produced twice as much estrogen just carrying the damn thing.

Scott Pilgrim Movie Trailer Out: I'm Rooting For the Exes

The Scott Pilgrim trailer has finally hit the Internet and I've been cleaning nerd off my window all week. It seems that as soon as certain gentlemen of a particular age, education and sneaker bracket see it, they combust and a shower of fanboy spooge results. Let's see if it works on any of you.

As you can tell from my prickly tone, I'm not all that excited. I tried to get on the Scott Pilgrim train, but hearing all about a douchebag who should know better about his love affair with a chick with more hair colour than personality, was too much for me. Too much like what I get in my daily life, for starters.

And the video game shoutouts were lost on me, because my Dad believed that consoles were the devil and refused to let them in the house. However, I've loved Edgar Wright since Spaced, so maybe he can help me overcome my indifference - and the Michael Cera creepy factor.

Ask Men No Questions About Their Reading

The Cost of A Better You, According To AskMen.com

AskMen.com is many things: crassly commercial, mildly misogynistic and… apparently Canadian. I apologize to the rest of the world on behalf of my nation, especially since it styles itself as a lifestyle advice resource.

Just what kind of a lifestyle is it advising you to pursue though? To find out, I had a look at its list of “10 Books To Read Before You’re 30.” I expected a fairly standard list of fiction, the kind of dude-driven collection that always has titles like Catcher In The Rye, 1984 and On The Road, with a least one classic (that’s usually Dickens.) Instead, I found one cookbook, several self-help books and one lonely collection of essays and short stories (Book #8: How To Tell A Story, by Mark Twain.)

The inclusion of book #7, The Joy of Cooking, might be a hint that none of the books are meant to be read. A better title would be “10 Books To Buy Before You’re 30,” and if you don’t believe me, all of the entries have handy links to Amazon that should clear up your confusion. They even have their own guide to male style, The Style Bible, on there as book #6. I look forward to the “10 Ask Men Publications To Buy Before The Next Month.”

Once bought though, it’s time to crack those spines so you can better yourself, since you are useless at cooking, badly dressed, worse at sex and bad with your money. I’m not writing that because, as a bitter, cranky feminist, that’s what I think all AskMen readers are like. I’m writing this because that’s what, judging from their copy, they think their audience is like.

If you log on to AskMen.com, your “girlfriend entertains her friends with the hilarity of your awkward sexual fumbling.” Your cooking skills end at “ordering pizza and microwaving ramen noodles.” And you even fail at sleeping. Without the decent financial education that only Book #4, Rich Dad, Poor Dad, can provide, you might have money misconceptions. And these “make everything you do less profitable before you even get out of bed in the morning.” Fool! Losing profits with every REM movement!

It’s kind of like putting women’s magazines up to a mirror and on the other side getting a world where men are the target and their insecurities about their bottom line and masculinity, instead of their looks, are tools by which they’re pried from their money.

What kind of fearsome man would result if some guy ever got around to “reading” all these books and improving himself accordingly? Would he give a woman time to talk between anecdotes about Old Fashioneds (Book #10: Bartending: The Fine Art of Fixing Drinks) and intimations that he’s, like totally down with going down (Book #5: She Comes First: The Thinking Man’s Guide to Sex)? Or would he just steamroll over her with a seamless transition from hockey talk (Book #9: The Game, Ken Dryden) to the importance of eating mostly plants (Book #3: In Defense of Food.)

But most of all, I wonder if he could reconcile following advice to “Crush Your Enemy Totally” (Book #2: The 48 Laws of Power) with getting the rest of your life philosophy from a Holocaust survivor (Book #1: Man’s Search For Meaning)?

I don’t think anyone can, without abusing that bartending book.

Off The Grid

For some reason, the time change hit me like a sack full of doorknobs, then all of a sudden I was getting ready to go back to Guelph and visit my parents. Then I got some rather annoying news and now... now, I feel like being a social vole and burying myself deep down into the ground for a while.

So, I officially killed Facebook, just in time for Lent to be over. Well, I'll try and feel guilty that I failed at Lent while indulging in my Cadbury Creme Eggs and Lindt Bunnies, although if I bought the candy at 50% off the day after Easter, it's going to be a hard emotion to fake.

Since killing Facebook, I've noticed a sharp reduction in my Internet usage time, a decline in jealousy-related stress and a sharp increase in the condition known as "Not Knowing What The Fuck is Going On." Sadly, I haven't noticed any increase in productivity.

I actually killed Facebook once before and kept off the grid for a whole month or so. I eventually went back online though, because I felt like I was missing out on too many social activities, from people who didn't feel like inviting people by phone or e-mail. Since that's just what I'm trying to avoid, I think I'll at least make it to two months, if not forever.

Not that Facebook makes it easy. When you go to disable your account, they throw up photos of your friends saying "______ will miss you!", as if the high school friend attached to that label has given me a thought in the past six years. And they keep your account around, with all your photos and your friends saved, hoping to "see you soon." It looks like social networking has finally managed to outguilt my mom.