Merry Ho Ho

I'm sitting alone in my apartment in Sherman Oaks, California and will be doing the same tomorrow morning. This year I've chosen to spend Christmas alone. This year, even though I have to be in Vancouver - near family and friends - on Jan 5 and the industry here has shutdown and there is no need for me to still be in Cali.... I am in Cali.

It sounds so very martyr-ish but I assure you, I am thrilled. The holidays have never been a happy time for me in fact they are dreaded. My family puts the FUN in Dysfunctional. And I don't blame the fully - I add to the dysfunction by becoming this version of myself that I hate everytime I am around them. I don't know why or how to stop it so this year, I am avoiding them all together. They will be better off but more importantly I will be.

My plans included hiking Fryman Canyon, making an yummy eggs and hasbrown breakfast with my favorite Trader Joe's Authentica Salsa, heading to the beach with the dog, coming home eating junk food and watching Gale Harold movies until I pass out.

However according the the weather reports, the Weather Gods seem to have alternative plans. It's suppose to pour rain all day tomorrow. And judging by the overcast sky I see out my bedroom window, I believe the meteorologists are dead on this time.

Well I have news for the Weather Gods..... I'm a Canadian girl. I've lived in Montreal through ice storms and Vancouver through an almost 30-day downpour. Whatever you can throw at me in California I can handle. I know how to use my windsheild wipers. I own 3 umbrellas and a pair of rubber boots. My Chihuahua has a gortex raincoat.

So bring it on Weather Gods. I'm going to have the Christmas I dreamed of whether you like it or not.

American History

It's a very historic time to be living in the United States. Tomorrow night may be the night that America elects their first black President. It's also the first time a female is listed on a ballot as Vice President.

Now I could go on and on about the Presidential race and list a thousand reasons why Obama-Biden is the only hope for America and why McCain-Palin would be as big a nightmare as Bush, but I've got another election issue I'd like to address. One that hasn't been getting sketches on SNL.

I live in California and there's this little thing that Californian's are voting on called Proposition 8. Proposition 8, if passed, would change the California Constitution to say that "Only marriage between a man and a woman is valid in the state of California."

Like with all the elections issues there have been a barrage of advertisements for and against this Proposition. Here is an example of a Vote Yes on Prop 8 commercial - a girl comes home from school and tells her mommy that today in school she learned that "a princess can marry a princess and a prince can marry a prince." The mother looks completely horrified and broken. Then the ad claims they are "Restoring Marriage & Protecting California Children."

(I thought about linking to the actual ad but I do NOT want to give it anymore airtime than its gotten. If you want to see it, it's on youtube).

"Restoring Marriage & Protecting California Children."

Really?

Restoring marriage to what...... the blazing glory of the 52% divorce rate heterosexual people have given it?

Protecting children from what? THAT is something I have been really bothered by since seeing the first ad. If my grade 2 student or even my kindergardner came home one day and told me a prince could marry a prince and a princess could marry a princess I would do the following: Tell them that yes, that's right. And then maybe make them an afterschool snack.

If there are any parents out there reading this - can someone please explain to me what would be so horrifying if children knew this little tidbit of information?

If you don't think schools should be teaching children about marriage, okay. Fine. Then make a Proposition that says "California's public education system should not be allowed to teach children about marriage"

But here's the kicker, your little prince or princess is probably going to have a classmate who has 2 dads... or 2 moms. Why not let kids know that their little buddy Johnny isn't a freak because the 2 people that care for him, and love him and look out for him are both women or both men. Taking away johnny's moms or dads the right to be married means your also taking away Johnny's rights to have 2 legal parents. So how, precisely are you protecting children?!

The only thing that's being protected by Prop 8 is ignorant, scared people's right to promote discrimination and hate.

If you're voting in California, please VOTE NO on Prop 8.

School Daze

I love school. I love school in ways that are gross and obsessive and juvenile but I don't care. I love it. I had a great high school experience, which I've been told is unheard of. I loved my friends, my social position, my looks, my boyfriends, my teachers (Mrs. Shaunessy and Mrs. Gas being the only real exceptions) and I loved homework. (Well, in the classes I gave a shit about like English, history or drama).

When University rolled around I majored in English, and then did a post-grad in journalism and because I was taking what I wanted, I got way better grades than high school. I graduated from my final degree with honors. But that said..... there was one scholarly dream that went unfulfilled.

I have always wanted to go to an American College/University.

When I was little I wanted to go to University of Maine because I spent my summer's in Maine and loved it there. Then I wanted to go to Yale because I wanted to be an actress and they had a great drama program. I bought everything and anything I could - during a 2 year stretch of time - that had a Yale crest on it.

For a brief moment I wanted to go to University of Arizona because they had an olympic-sized pool in the middle of their quad. What? That seemed like a perfectly good reason at 17.

As I approached high school graduation I realized how much it cost to go to a US university. My grades were definitely not good enough for a scholarship. I thought about, and could have gotten, a partial scholarship to a Texas university for............ cheerleading. However a partial scholarship + foreign tution (because I was not a citizen of the US) would leave me with a bill of about $22,000 a year.

$21,666. 19 is what it ended up costing me for a BA and a graduate degree from 2 Canadian Institutions (and that includes dorm fees and meal plans). So fiscally Canada wins even if my dream died..... well hybernated. I tend not to let my dreams die.

But tomorrow, at 36 years old, I become a student at the University of California, Los Angeles. Granted it's the "extension program" which is adult/night school classes, but it's still UCLA. And it's for TV screenwriting, my true passion in life, so.... I'm thrilled. (The pic above is the actual building my class is in).

So tonight I've been rushing around downloading course materials, printing off campus maps and parking info. I bought a spiffy new notebook, a pretty pen and a nifty folder to keep my scripts in and....... and I even picked out my first day (night) of class outfit.

I am in heaven.

The Best Way to Start a Day

I've been hiking Fryman Canyon for the last three days. I intend to make it a daily occurence, despite the pain in my legs that is trying to convince me otherwise. It's honestly not a strenuous hike, I'm just slightly out of shape. And no matter what my thigh muscles are telling me my heart and head are absolutely in love with it.

It cost $1 to park at the lot where it begins. One dollar a day for parking is way cheaper than a gym membership anywhere. And on top of that at the gym you have to deal with people and equipment and mirrors that to me are so detrimental to an actual work out. Who the hell thought it was a stellar idea to stare at oneself while you body jiggles and jaggles every which way and you're sweating profusely? Not me.

The first part of the hike is a steep uphill incline and it's paved. Paved from, I'm guessing, about 1972 so it's all bumpy and cracked and uneven. It's a bit of a strain. But once you hit the dirt path.... it's all golden. Literally. Sunshine, stunning, sweeping valley views, wildflowers, and silence. No gym stereo or aerobics instructor or machines clinking or weights clacking. Just nature and your thoughts. It's a really nice, refreshing way to start my day. Even my chihuahua Gus, who isn't known for enjoying long walks or behaving on them, trotted along like a good little boy the entire way without an issue. He too seemed to be enamored with the place.

The daily hike gives me much treasured, much needed alone time in my head without any kind of distraction I can focus on planning my day, working out writer's block, mulling over new jokes and - just as important - daydreaming.

Fryman Canyon is one of my favorite things about this new home of mine and I thought I would share it with all of you.

Siblings

I'm the baby in a family with 5 children. On top of which I am that late-in-life, we-thought-we-were-done-but-oops! kid. I have a brother 8 years older than me, a sister 11 years older, another brother 13 years older and another 15 years older.

It was odd because it was almost like growing up an only child with a lot of uncles and an aunt. By the time I hit my teens my brothers and sisters had all moved out and I only saw them on holidays. Even now that we're adults, when we all get together, they exchange stories of crazy teen antics I did not partake in and memories of family events I was in diapers for.

That exclusion is a hard part of being the youngest, by a mile. However it's bareable and expected. And being a late-in-life baby for my parents, who are now in the mid 70s means I won't have them in my life as long as my siblings, and I have accepted that. But what has happened that was unexpected and I can't seem to accept is losing my siblings before my parents. My oldest brother died of lung cancer before he hit 40. And now my 44 year old brother is in the hospital awaiting a course of treatment after having a mild heart attack. He'll either have stents put in his arteries or bypass. I'm sure my brother will be fine because this kind of medical issue is, sadly, common nowadays and very treatable, especially because they caught it before a major heart attack. But it still makes me sad for things I can not change and things I'll never have.

I watched my grandmother - at 80 - enjoy Christmas dinner with her brother. They were 4 years apart. It was so neat to watch them interact and share stories about moving from Newfoundland to Montreal with their parents and sister. My favorite part of extended family gatherings was watching my dad and his sisters tease each other. They do it everytime they get together and have a wee bit too much to drink. (which is always). They joke about how my dad used to get his youngest sister to play poker with him every Saturday morning and swindle her out of her allowance. Or how he used to bully his oldest sister's male suitors.

My brother curently in the hospital has 8 year old twins - a boy and a girl. I watched them finish each other sentences and know exactly how to push each other buttons and I envy it. I want to sit them down and tell them how lucky they are and how they should thank their lucky stars for their closeness, both in age and emotion. But I know they wouldn't get it. I really wish I didn't get it either.

The hands say it all.... or do they?

I'm single and in a new country, starting a new life, and I've noticed some gorgeous males lately. It's LA - everything is pretty.

Whenever someone asked me what I notice 1st on a guy, I used to answer eyes. I love eyes. Blue ones to be precise. But nowadays, I notice hands first. Because chances are any gorgeous charming man my age who is straight may also be married. So I go straight to the hands and look for the ring.

There was this charming and adorable actor I met at a fundraiser. Tall, blue eyes, broad shoulders, no ring. But he did have a wife who showed up at the event moments later. I met another one. Real estate agent. Tall, blue eyes, blonde surfer hair and a flirtatious smile. No ring. But *surprise* he was married.

Why no ring?

I never got into a big enough conversation to feel comfortable asking either of them. But if any one out there has a reasonable explanation as to why a married man wouldn't wear a ring or why you, as a wife, wouldn't care if your husband wore a ring, I'm DYING to know.

See, for me the ring is a BIG part of the commitment. I mean, just don't see any reason at all why a man wouldn't wear a ring. And I wonder if a woman didn't want to wear one if it would be as much of a non-issue as wehn guys do it. Something tells me it would be an issue.

Here's the thing about the ring - it lets the rest of the women know not to waste their time flirting with you. (from a single female perspective I appreciate knowing not to waste my time).

And call me old-school or paranoid or what have you but not wearing a ring smacks of "I don't want anyone to know I'm not available"

And so if you marry me you have 2 options:

1) Wear a ring. Gold, Silver, Platinum, Tatanium, Tin foil - whatever

or

2) Get the word MARRIED tattooed across your forehead. (and you don't get to grown bangs, ever).

Am I unreasonable or old fashioned? What's up with the No Ring Trend?

The P Word

I have come to accept that I am the Queen of Procrastination. It started in high school, only back then I procrastinated until it was too late to actually get the assignment done on time. Then in college, when the assignments were on subjects I liked for courses I picked (and more importantly that I had paid for myself) I started to know the joy of the rush of pulling all- nighters and slipping the assignment on the teachers desk with .04 seconds left on the clock. And I also started to know the joy of the good grades, because despite my rushing and blurry 3am musings on Huck Fin or American history or whatever the assignment, I started pulling my best grades ever.

Now, as a freelance writer, I still suffer from the need for speed. The need to wait until the last possible minute to get an assignment done. I truly believe that it makes my work better, stronger and helps me focus..... despite what my mother, and the Girl Scouts, tried to teach me about "being prepared".

Now if you'l excuse me I have a 750 word article due tomorrow at 10am. I've got a nap to take, some TV to watch, a dog to walk, a nose to pick and then.... eventually.... an article to write.

The Double-Edged Sword

How many times has someone said to you "I've got good news and I've got bad news. Which do you want first?"
I woke up with this on my mind and well, wanted to know other people's answers? Which do you want first? There is rationale for both.

Take the good news first, then when you hear the bad it's buffered by the good. Good news, if it's good enough, can change your perspective on the bad. For example if you boyfriend says to you "The good news is I want to marry you and spend the rst of my life with you. The bad news is I kinda drove your car into a tree." (I personally wouldn't give a shit about the car).

Take the bad news first because then the good seems even better. Also you get the ugly out of the way and can concentrate on the good. For example your boss says "The bad news is we're down-sizing and your whole department is axed. The good news is your severance is 3 years pay."

It's kinda a glass half emtpy/half full question, which I also dislike.

So what are your thoughts - Good news first or bad news first?

My answer: I'll take the good news and you can shove the bad up yer arse.

What does Gmail think of you?

So I had a conversation with some girlfriends this weekend and one of them had an interesting revelation. Apparently Gmail scans your emails and picks up on keywords, then they choose the ads they place on your gmail page accordingly. One friend who was recently married said she was seeing a lot of photographer ads and vacation packages. I personally have never looked at the ads beside my emails but became intrigued and went back to look at them.

Here's what gmail thinks I'd be interested in:

Germany's News in English - breaking news, views and chats from Germany.
Hmm... never been to Germany, never thought about Gemany, don't know any Germans. Apparently gmail thinks I need to get out more. travel the world. Thanks for the tip, gmail.

$250,000 Income Potential - Entrepeneurs wanted. No selling. Turnkey system.
Apparently gmail thinks Ijust fell off a turnip truck and am scam-able. Bite me gmail.

Toxic Tort Lawyers - Helping Chemical Exposure Victims.
Really? What? Do you know something I don't gmail??? Should I make Dr's appointment?!

I don't know what words they are grabbing from my emails, but it's not the right ones. I should be getting ads for debt consolidation, immigration laywers and dating websites. Gmail, you don't know me at all.

America's Near Miss

I feel theneed to comment on politics. Weird I know but this whole debacle with John Edwards cheating on his wife has me shocked and disappointed. When the whole Monica Lewinsky thing happened with Bill Clinton, I was in Bill's court. My opinion was, his personal life is his personal life - had no effect on his ability to run a country - and it's up to Hilary to punish him not the nation. I didn't judge him. If anything I judged Hilary for not kicking his ass to the curb. But as it turns out, she had her own career agendas and needed him, inappropriate cigar recepticles and all.

Because I didn't judge Bill, I didn't expect to judge John Edwards. But then Edwards opened his mouth. And yeah, I'm judging. And thanking God this idiot didn't get the Democratic nomination. Edwards excuse for cheating wasn't that the marriage was going through a difficult time, or he was growing apart from his wife, or he was lonely on the campaign trail. No it was this: "I went from being a senator, a young senator to being considered for vice president, running for president, being a vice presidential candidate and becoming a national public figure. All of which fed a self-focus, an egotism, a narcissism that leads you to believe that you can do whatever you want. You're invincible. And there will be no consequences."

Holy crap, seriously? You got "drunk with power." That's your big rationale?! That makes it okay to cheat on your wife who has terminal breast cancer? Hey John! You're an asshat!

Being so responsive to the ass-licking that goes on in American Politics I can only imagine that had Edwards become president he would have bended to the whims and wishes of whoever stroked his monolithic ego.

"Sure, I know we should get our troops out of Iraq but the Republicans told me I look awesome today and well, they'll keep telling me how awesome I am as long as I keep letting young boys die in Iraq so we're staying!"

"This is your President John Edwards. I'm having a bad hair day today and Stephen Harper gave me a funny look at our Summit today so we're invading Canada."

"I've decided that all female White House pages should have to go topless on Tuesdays. I can't do that?! Of course I can, I'm the leader. I can do whatever I want! If you don't like it, I'll deport you... even if you were born here. I don't care, I can do whatever I want. Gotta love me!"

It's so sad that this man who seemed to have potential - who seemed to be someone who could bring potential to a country that has had the potential beaten out of it over the last 8 years - could, in one statement, turn into the biggest mistake America almost made.

I honestly think, with an ego that fragile and a morale compass so easily influenced, that John Edwards would have been a bigger mistake than George W ever was.

I'm a 10!

I went bathing suit shopping the other day. Why? Because I was feeling way too good about myself lately and the quickest way to depress yourself as a women over the age of 12 is to go bathing suit shoping. Seriously, I live in Los Angeles now, and there are beaches and well... snowsuits don't make for an even tan.

I go into this store that shall remain nameless (because I honestly don't remember the name, but it had the word "swim" in it I think) and I start looking. It's divided up by size. There's an area for size 4, size 6, size 8, size 10, size 12 and size 14. Now this is weird to me because most swimsuit stores I've been in have their stuff sized Small, Medium, Large, XL.

The sales lady visually sizes me up and tells me to look in the size 6 rack. I think that makes sense because in clothing stores I am anywhere from a size 4 to a 7 depending on the store. I grab a few size 6 suits and head to the changing room. I can't get any of the bathing suits over my ass. Not a one. I head back out, confused and look for size 7s. They don't have size 7s so I go to the size 8 rack. I find a few there I like and take them back.

I find one I love that fits.... but it's a little tight. The kind of tight that makes your back fat bunch up under your armpits and gives you the oh-so-not-sexy muffin top. As I am walking back out... ready to wave the white flag on bathing suit shopping and start starving myself asap I see the exact same suit on the size 10 rack.

I'm not a size 10. If I was to wear a 10 in jeans I could pull them on without undoing them. here is nothing wrong with being a 10. I know tons of 10s and they are fine wonderful, fit people. But I am not a 10. It's weird how you learn to identify with a size system but you do and I did and my size has never been bigger than a 7.

Anyway, I pick it up and examine it and for the first time look at the tags sewn into the bahting suit instead of the sizes marked by the store on the racks. I see that although the store has stuck it on the rack marked "10" it actually says "medium" on the tags. I look at the one I had tried on from the "8" rack and it's marked "small". The 4/6 rack are actually "extra small and "extra-extra small".

WTF?!

So I take the "medium" and I try it on and it fits perfectly. It's awesome. I love it - and I haven't loved a bikini since I was 14. So I go to the cash to buy it..... this is the conversation that ensues with the cashier.

CASHIER: So you found something you like?

ME: Yeah, I love it.

CASHIER: I thought you had me put this one back earlier? You changed your mind?

ME: No it's the same suit but a different size. The 6 and 8 didn't fit.

CASHIER: It's a 10?

ME: It's a medium.

CASHIER: Huh, I never would have thought you were a 10. You hide it well.

ME: Wow, way to kick start an eating disorder. Thanks.

I'm 5'7 and 126 pounds, what ,exactly, am I "hiding well"??????

I should have walked out. I shouldn't have given her my money. But seriously, that would mean I would have to go and do this to my self-esteem all over again somewhere else. And that option was way more unappealing than just giving her my money and taking my size "10" (and by "10" I mean "medium") ass home.

Real Comics Don't Need Underwear Pics

I'm a comic. That means I stand up on stage in front of strangers and try to make them laugh. The requirements for this job aren't much. You need a microphone, a stage, a stool, and an ability to say something funny. But in recent years another tool has become an integral part of a comic's life (and an actor's, and a model's, and a musicians) it's Myspace. I get the benefits to Myspace when it comes to marketing and advertising for people like myself in the entertainment field. It sure as hell beats stapling posters to lamposts everytime you have a show. However this awesome tool has also created something that makes me a little sick. Like that did the dog just kiss me after he licked his ass? kinda sick.

Because Myspace has compelled smart, funny and talented people to forgo the professional headshots and post pictures of themselves in ..... well, not much. I recently "friended" April Macie. April is a comic who was seen on Last Comic Standing a few seasons ago. If you look at April Macie's gallery of photos, she has several where she appears in what can - at best - be described as the underwear of a 5 year old girl. And you can tell it belongs to a 5 year old girl not just because it's frilly and pink but because it apparently doesn't fit April at all. She's even tugging at it (I can only assume in order to prevent it from cutting off her circulation or crushing a kidney) in one of the photos. Pulling on it so hard and pushing it down so low that you can almost see her va-jay-jay. Poor thing.

Not only do I not see the point to wearing a 5 year old's underwear, but I don't see the point to wearing it, getting your picture taken in it and posting it under your comedy profile.

If you are a porn star, a hooker or a stripper and you're trying to get people to; buy your lastest Gang Bang flick, come to your corner for a hand job or come to your club where you can wow them with your amazing lapdance skills, then fine, post that type of picture. It will bring you the type of attention that your career needs. If you're a female comic with underwear shots plastered across your myspace comedy profile, I'm willing to bet people don't look at that and think "Wow, she must be really funny. We should check out her act." Unless of course you have a third nipple clearly visible or better yet a third breast or a penis hanging out of your thong - then you might be considered funny on the merrits of your underwear shots.

And by "funny" I mean "funny-peculiar", not "funny-ha-ha".

I guess some women think that the fact that they are young, thin and hot should somehow help them in comedy,but unfortunately it doesn't. What helps is spending your time writing funny jokes and working your butt off to get stage time. If some of these female comics spent more time doing that instead of shopping in the children's section of Target, maybe they'd have 12,000 people coming to their shows instead of 12,0000 myspace friends and a crushed kidney.