All you need is a car and a box of Premium Plus crackers

Just watched 533 Statements, that incredible documentary by Tori Foster.


Now I want to take a road trip across Canada.


And hug people along the way.


I know I say all the time that I'd love to leave this country and live someplace better, but I'm totally lying every time I say that.


That is all.

I was born in my own utopia.

Get excited - the French have taken over Hollywood.

It's that time of year! The one day in the year where we get an excuse to have Brad Pitt and George Clooney attend the same party, which just so happens to be secretly hosted by Bob and Harvey Weinstein. 

Now don't get me wrong, I love the Oscars. I just have not loved it since 2008, when those flawless films of 2007 got recognized. Anybody remember 2007? Notable directors who made movies that year included the Coen brothers, Paul Thomas Anderson, Joe Wright, Tony Gilroy and Julian Schnabel. Daniel Day-Lewis won his second Oscar. Marion Cotillard became the first actor to win an Oscar lead performance award for a non-English role. An exotic dancer won the award for best original screenplay. The host was actually funny. Back then, we still had the 5 best picture nominees! Back then, it was more about good movies than getting Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie into every shot! Back then, the Oscars actually cared about movie music! 

For example, these two lovely people who made the world beautiful for the first time in a long time.

Markéta Irglová and Glen Hansard showing movie bosses who's boss.

Yes, I haven't really enjoyed the Oscars since 2008. 2007 was still the best year for movies. 2010 came slightly closer, what with The Social Network, The King's Speech and Inception. Good movies slide in here and there depending on the year (remember The Hurt Locker?), but 2007 was SOLID. The films were enriching, the characterizations were thought-provoking, the performances were inspiring, the creativity and artistry were enlightening. 2007's films are the best examples of films as art. I could watch the cinematography of There Will Be Blood over and over again and just die from the sheer technique and crisp photographic eye of that perfect movie. Yes, I will be an annoying brat and a bad movie critic by calling that film perfect. But it was perfect.

This year was not so bad. I didn't have time to see many of the movies that were nominated, but films like The Artist and Midnight in Paris and Bridesmaids definitely made this year pretty good. The actresses were definitely the highlights of 2011, what with people like Glenn Close, Octavia Spencer, Meryl Streep, Viola Davis, Janet McTeer, Melissa McCarthy, Michelle Williams, Marion Cotillard and Tilda Swinton all pulling in wonderful performances within a 12-month span. Add to that amazing newcomers such as Rooney Mara, Jessica Chastain, Emma Stone, Elizabeth Olsen, Léa Seydoux, Mia Wasikowska and Elle Fanning, I would say that 2011 stands out as being the year of the Actress. So many great roles for women this year, and for that, I quite enjoyed the movies that came out. 

And you really can't go wrong with a red carpet showdown that has Jessica Chastain parading in this: 

Holy shit Chastain, could you be more hot?

Too bad the actual Oscar awards show is still as boring as ever. I have to admit, the only time I actually paid attention was when Cirque du Soleil performed (amazing as ever) and when Jean Dujardin won his Oscar, because he is absolutely adorable and everything he says is like melted butter on a piece of French bread. It's just yummy and amazing. And the fact that George Clooney didn't win was way too overly satisfying. Anyway, I didn't really start liking the Oscar show tonight until Uggie the dog came on when The Artist won Best Picture. And by then, the show was basically over. The Oscars this year was as predictable as the sun rising in the morning. They laugh at bad jokes. They talk about what an awesome year it has been. They laugh at more bad jokes. They bring out props and play out scenes that teenagers could have written and performed better in a high school drama class. They ham up the actors and give them too much speech time while cutting the speeches of people winning the "less ratings savvy" awards such as the one for Best Documentary Short. Because obviously, the public watching don't give a fuck about documentary shorts or foreign films or sound mixing.

I started to think about what I would do to the Oscars if I got to produce the show. And I came up with these changes:

1. Have Ellen DeGeneres or Jon Stewart host. Or Uggie the dog. 

2. Do an Oscar pool at the Oscars. Basically, have the people in the audience submit their guesses for the pool before coming in. During the show, the producers will keep track of how many guesses are correct, and award the person with the highest score at the end with a cool prize. Like a date with Jessica Chastain. 

3. Invite Markéta Irglová and Glen Hansard to write all the music for the show. 

4. Don't invite George Clooney. Even when he is nominated. 

5. Get a dance company to perform an interpretive dance representing scenes and/or themes from each of the movies nominated for Best Picture. 

6. Reduce the Best Picture nomination list to five films. Everyone knows the five best out of anyway. For example, when you've got The Artist up for 10 nominations, and Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close up for 2 (plus being the worst reviewed Oscar picture nominee in years), I can pretty much GUARANTEE that Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close isn't going to win jack shit. Why nominate it when no one is even going to tick that off in their Oscar pools? It's like a sick joke. This is one of the reasons I preferred the Oscars prior to 2009. We nominated 5 of the best films because they were the best. We didn't nominate 10 just so the category could double as a sympathy box for movies that were just decent. We didn't nominate 10 just so we could stick Pixar into the mix (and as a result turn the animation category into a loser's field). You need only look at the editing category to know which movies stand the best chance anyway. 

7. Give winners for categories such as Best Cinematography and Best Documentary more speech time than the winners for the performance categories. Why? Because as much as I want to hear actors or actresses cry and act shocked even though they had the award in the bag coming into this crapfest, the people in the less scrutinized categories actually give better speeches most of the time. Remember Luke Matheny's speech for his award for Best Live Action Short Film in 2011 for "God of Love"? Man, that kid was so precious - the definite highlight of the 83rd Oscars. 

8. Bring back original song performances and let them play the song in its entirety. Include a segment for original score nominations, to be performed by a full orchestra and to be accompanied by a light show. 

9. Troll the paparazzi hard and have everyone come to the Oscars dressed as Muppets. That way, they can dodge the awkward "What are you wearing" questions and just say "Elmo, duh." 

10. Give Anderson Cooper front row seats so that whenever the host says a stupid joke, the mic will be close enough to pick up Cooper's giggle and we can all laugh at that. 

There we go. I may not have planned out a good broadcast show, but damn if it's not better than anything the Oscar producers have shelled out recently. The ratings seem to decrease as the years go by, so the producers nominate better known and accessible films, they nominate and invite more famous people. Little do they know that having Brad Pitt sitting in the front row will only get people watching for so long. If you can't make the recognition of interesting movies interesting, then you need to try something new. I quite like the Muppets idea. Let's run with it.

So, Academy Awards, please hire me to be next year's producer. I'm ready. Markéta Irglová is so totally ready to seduce me - with her music, of course. Ahem.

That is one lucky jacket.

We were orange peels in another life.

I was perusing through my old stuff today because I was bored and sick and drinking lemon honey water by the ocean full. Anyway, I came across this mini narrative that my former classmate Scott wrote about me. This was from a couple years ago, right after I came back to school from my backpacking trip through Europe. Reading this made me feel nostalgic, which is pathetic and is proof that I am totally old. But really, when you think about it, 2009 does belong to another decade. Kids who were born in 2009 are going to be turning 3 this year. 


Back in 2009, the earthquakes in Haiti and Japan hadn't happened yet. Wikileaks hadn't leaked all that confidential information. Lady Gaga was somewhat normal. William hadn't proposed to Kate. Osama bin Laden was still alive. The Harry Potter films hadn't ended yet. I was a little shit who was convinced I would one day win an Oscar.


[For which category(ies) was still to be determined]


Long story short, 2009 was a fucking long time ago. I'm surprised I still have this story, so I thought I'd post it here because it's basically a miracle I kept it. Scott wrote it in French, so if you understand French then good for you. If you don't, then have fun reading this. 


So, this is my biography, according to Scott:

Que penses tu de cette histoire (de ta vraie identité (oui je sais la vérité))?


Bonjour! Je m’appelle Wes. J’étudie français à l’Université de Simon Fraser. Au présent, je suis le cours de 301W, enseigné par Dr. Laghzaoui. Bien que ma vie semble celle d’un(e) étudiant(e) normal(e), j’ai de grands secrètes. Mon histoire commence en Russie où je travaillais comme espionne pour le KGB. Après ma mission à la Corrée du Nord et aux États-Unis pendant la guerre froide, l’université de la Columbie-Britannique m’a recruté pour espionner le programme de français à SFU. J’avais la chirurgie esthétique vu qu’un homme russe de 2 mètres, 250 poids et qui a une soixantaine d’années se vois comme le nez au milieu de la figure. Par conséquent, j’ai changé mon identité, mon apparence et mon sexe. Je me suis devenue Wes, petite et mignonne étudiante de français.


It's amazing how accurate this is.

Hi Joe Cuppa Joe

Here's a start to a new series called Mix Tape, in which I act like a pretentious Pitchfork pseudo-hipster music critic with a rod up my ass as I tell you about all the music YOU should be listening to and that YOU better like.

So the first mix tape is called Queer Ladies in Cafés. This is slightly maybe not inspired by Commercial Drive's extensive coffee shops that provide amazing eye candy approx 14 hours a day, 7 days a week.

Anyway, grab a lady, a cuppa and a book and let's listen to some music!!

"Miss Chatelaine" by k.d. lang

"You Don't Have to Say You Love Me" by Dusty Springfield

"Viz" by Le Tigre

"Like the Way I Do" by Melissa Etheridge

"Quicksand" by La Roux

"Covered" by Uh Huh Her

"You Don't Own Me" by Lesley Gore

"Beautiful" by Meshell Ndegeocello

"Astronaut" by Amanda Palmer

"You Make Me Weak At the Knees" by Electrelane

"Where I Stood" by Missy Higgins

"Jezebel" by Chely Wright 

"Crimson and Clover" by Joan Jett

"Future Crimes" by Wild Flag

"Galileo" by Indigo Girls

"Everytime I Go To Sleep" by Holly Miranda

"Midnight Sun" by The Sounds
"What Can I Say" by Brandi Carlile
"On Directing" by Tegan & Sara
"Give Me One Reason" by Tracy Chapman
"Breathe On Me" by Jennifer Knapp 
"Good Night Good Morning" by Beth Ditto
"Be Like This" by Men

The very fine Amber Heard wishes you a happy listening at your favourite coffee shop :)

What do you do with a B.A. in English?

So I taught my first full day of high school today. It was quite possibly the scariest thing I have ever put myself through and I never want to do it again.


Until I teach again tomorrow, that is.

Biggest eye-opener of the day: 
Talking to a grade 12 student about college and thinking, "Wow, this kid's mature for his age" before remembering that this kid isn't that much younger than me. 

Interesting observation:
Seeing a dumpster jumper hop enthusiastically into a large garbage bin on school grounds. 

Coolest thing about today:
Having students recognize me in the hallways. I can't believe the memories they have. I barely remember faces I've only seen a couple times.  

Reality check of the day:
Finding out that the skunk smell around the school is the smell of people preparing cocaine by school grounds the night before. Oh the joys of living in this lovely suburban city. 

Strangest thing about today: 
Getting flirted with by male and female teachers in the copy room. I thought that kind of stuff only happened in movies.

I have a feeling that becoming a teacher is all about discovering every single day that your students are smarter than you are.


I think I'm OK with that.

A man who is a master of patience is a master of everything else.

Too bad I'm not a master of patience. I'm the complete opposite, actually.


So I'm on the wait list to go to Angelus Oaks. Thought to hell with it - one of my resolutions this year was to take a trip down to California, so I don't see why this can't be another reason to go. To hell with the fact that I'm a broke student. To hell with the fact that I'm going to check my email everyday now (which I hate to do) in order to see if I get off that waitlist. To hell with the fact that I have severely allergic reactions to mosquito bites.


The moral of the story is that sometimes, you have to get malaria in order to find yourself.

If you find a poutine you like....

.....you put a ring on it.

Hannah Hart wants to get you drunk.

This is a post about the most talented chef of all time.


Since the spring of 2011, food icon Hannah Hart has shared her masterful culinary creations on her web series, My Drunk Kitchen. Some of her meals have included grilled cheese (without the cheese), ice cream in ziploc bags, poutine, tacos with turkey meat, vegan cheesecake, trail mix pancakes and questionable meat pie (again with turkey).


What makes Hart much more skillful than the average iron chef is the fact that she prepares meals while intoxicated.


Not many chefs do that. 


Watching her videos is an experience akin to seeing your first 3-D movie. They normally start with her cracking open (okay, not literally cracking, but you know what I mean) her alcohol of choice for the day and end with her wasted as fuck. What happens in between is absolute genius, because not only does she cook something that looks exactly like the shit you eat, but you as an Internet viewer get to see her slow descent into drunkenness. And it's awesome because Hannah is the greatest drunk in the world.


The things she does once she's had too many include:

-taking off her glasses

-talking with a lisp

-perpetually winking

-falling down

-failing to open cheese packages

-forgetting about the cheese

-eating an onion

-opening things with her mouth

Every time I watch her, I thank God that someone as ridiculously cute as her has the audacity to get drunk on camera at least once a month.

Cooking shows on the Food Channel simply pale by comparison. Sorry, Bobby Flay. Your grilled moose meat or whatever it is you make will never be as appetizing as the thought of ice cream in a ziploc bag.

De-stress the stress.

Time for blogging therapy!!!


Do you feel overwhelmed by one or many of the stress causers listed below?


School
Work
Family
Teachers
Friends
Your paranoid android neighbour
American politics
Fox News
The NHL trade deadline
People you like who don't like you
Glee sucking monkey balls for the past year and a half
Your Bachelor Canada audition video
The sinking realization that Rachel Maddow will never actually marry you
Your sprained ankle that may actually be broken
Your domesticated skunk who is trying to steal your live-in boyfriend away from you


If so, then you have come to the right place!!


So long story short, I have been stressed as SHIT this past week and I know a lot of people around me are too. It takes a lot of mental and physical strength to travel up a mountain everyday, sit in a room with mold dripping from the ceiling for six hours, listen to your profs lecture on and on about things that you thought were common sense, wonder why you paid fucking twenty grand to gain common sense, realize that you may have developed asthma from the classroom mold, go home feeling like you've got a dust bunny in your lungs and a golf ball in your esophagus, then proceed to do homework that you have absolutely zero motherfucking shit desire to do. Especially when TLC is running a "19 Kids and Counting" marathon.


I know that a lot of people feel the exact same way as I do.


So I figured we could all use a session of.....PUPPY THERAPY!!!!!


I think we all know what puppy therapy is. It's like any other therapy. Only it actually works. And it has puppies.


So let's start off with the main point of this practice. Which is. THE PUPPIES.


Take a look at this motherfucking puppy.

This is a beagle. As in, it is not a bagel. It is a puppy. With feelings. Snoopy was a beagle. This puppy doesn't look like Snoopy though.


A Holly Golightly motherfucking puppy.

This is a maltese, which sounds like a fancy ass drink. But it is not. You should never try to drink a maltese.


A winter holiday version of a motherfucking puppy.

This is a golden retriever. Golden retrievers are like blond women. Everyone prefers them. And by everyone, I mean some people.


SO MANY MOTHERFUCKING PUPPIES (they just keep coming!)

This is a shih tzu. Shih tzus are convenient in that you can literally name your shih tzu "Shit" and no one can technically hate you for it. Because they all know that if they had shih tzus they'd take advantage of that pun SO HARD.


A sombre motherfucking puppy.

This is a samoyed. Samoyeds are dogs that look like polar bears. So for all you polar bear enthusiasts who always wished you could domesticate an arctic monster, here's your best bet.


A lonely motherfucking puppy (is the therapy working so far??!!)

This is an English bulldog. English bulldogs are like grandmothers. Little and wrinkly.


Aaaannnd the last motherfucking puppy of this session is....

A pomeranian!!! Basically, if this little guy doesn't make you want to burst into tears, hide under a blanket and sing Everly Brothers songs at the top of your lungs, then you are probably a psychotic person who needs more powerful therapy than puppy therapy. For the rest of you though, cry as much as you need to, sing as loud as you feel like, and try not to accidentally suffocate yourself underneath that blanket.


Thank you for participating in puppy therapy. I hope you are now as high as a kite off all the cuteness.


Really. Who needs drugs when these little motherfuckers are here?

Vocabulary is for losers.

It's that time again! Welcome to another round of "Word Of The Day That Is Not In The English Dictionary...Yet".

My dream library. Yes, it comes with a ladder for the higher shelves.

Today's word of the day is:


LORD BYRON: a nickname instigated by yours truly to identify Byron Bitz, right winger for the Vancouver Canucks with ginger powers, aggressive puck play and an official in on the Sedin twins. He hails from Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, considered to be the most cultural city in Canada (I am not joking. It really is). One of the key strategies he brings to the game is to distract opposing hockey players by kissing them. With his fists.


Here is a picture to help you visualize this new word!

Bitz is the one who is not the Avalanche player.

Now to use this new word in a couple of examples:


Example #1


CANUCKS FAN: I love Lord Byron. Nothing you can ever say can ever make me not like him.
ME: You know he used to play for the Bruins, right?
CANUCKS FAN: OK, you win.


Example #2


ENGLISH GEEK: Lord Byron is pure poetry.
CANUCKS FAN: .....on ice.
ENGLISH GEEK: I meant the real Lord Byron.
CANUCKS FAN: I did too.


For all your hard work today, here are 4 pictures of Paula Zago. You're welcome.

S'mores galore.

OH MY GOD.

AUTOSTRADDLE HAS A WEEKEND CAMP.

APRIL 26TH - APRIL 29TH.

IN SAN BERNARDINO, CALIFORNIA.

THERE WILL BE LESBIAN FEMINIST JEOPARDY.

OH MY GOD WHY AM I IN CANADA. 

AND POOR.

Excuse me while I cry alone in a corner amongst my school textbooks.


Seriously though, you have no idea how much I've wanted to go to gay camp. I always imagined it'll be a lot more fun than non-gay camps. Nothing against non-gay camps, but they just wouldn't be as relevant. To my life. I mean, all they do there is argue over who gets top bunks in the cabin. Whereas at gay girl camp we'd come to a compromise and just crawl into the same bunk. Problem solved, everyone's happy.


Also, think of all the wide range of activities you could do! You know, like build real functional row boats and sing Ani DiFranco around a campfire and show off your Tegan & Sara lyric tattoos and swap flannel shirts. 


IT WOULD BE AMAZING. 


I need to find someone to sponsor me so I can go to this camp. 


Or I could start fundraising. Too bad I can't bake to save my life. And no one's gonna buy lemonades at this time of the year.


Autostraddle, you just made my life and destroyed it in a matter of seconds. Yeah. Thanks for that.

In which Toby is Legendary.

She should get those things insured now that Rapinoe's touched them.
I'm sure even J.Lo's ass wishes they were Toby's tits.

In my time on this Earth (which is not very long compared to the lifespan of the yareta but very long compared to the lifespan of the fruit fly), I have seen my share of what is commonly known as very blatant displays of pinoesexuality. 


Pinoesexuality is defined thus:

PEOPLE WHO ARE ATTRACTED TO MEGAN RAPINOE

(OMG WHO WOULD HAVE GUESSED)

It's a newly discovered sexuality, one that existed since the day Rapinoe first kicked a soccer ball but that had yet to be identified until USWNT lost the FIFA World Cup in Germany and everyone flipped their shit - then all subsequently came out in droves because despite the loss, #15 midfielder still remained adorable. Thus the new sexual orientation came into being.

Not a lot of people know about pinoesexuality and many psychologists have yet to study it in depth. So if I were you, I would not throw that word around, even if you do identify as such. Some people are still very close-minded and ignorant and probably pinoephobic. 

As in, all those people who will vote for Rick Santorum? They will likely not approve of the fact that you are a proud pinoesexual. Also, all the members of Westboro Baptist Church? It may not be ideal to go up to one of them and talk about your pinoesexual tendencies. The last thing we need is Westboro wankers picketing soccer games with signs saying "God Hates Celebratory Leaps" and "Pray For More USA Losses To Japan."

I shudder at the mere thought of it.

One day though (as in, when USWNT wins Olympic gold in London), awareness of pinoesexuality will finally reach mainstream society, and people will not only be more accepting of you but they may also come out as pinoesexuals too. And everything will be bunnies and rainbows and we will all dance in fields with pink flowers in our hair.

I'd like to start that revolution now and be the first self-declared pinoesexual activist. I will raise awareness by starting a series on this blog called "The Absurd & Inappropriate Things Queer Women Say & Do For Megan Rapinoe" a.k.a. "The Woes of Being Pinoesexual."

I chose dear Toby to be my first case, as she perfectly embodies these woes. Toby, your brazen honesty makes you an inspiration to us all. I can only hope that one day, all of us will be able to go up to Megan Rapinoe, get her to handle sign our chests, and live to tell the tale as you have.

Thus concludes the first Pinoesexual Pride blog post. Have a good night everyone.

Fact: The gender binary pays no attention to the laws of the road

Today I jaywalked to get to the grocery store on the other side of the road to buy Valentine's chocolates. It was a busy street at a busy hour, but I figured that walking the 200 metres to the traffic light would be a waste of time. So why not risk my life and save some minutes. That's always been my motto.

When I got to the other side of the street, an SUV turning into the grocery store parking lot slowed down almost to a stop (halting traffic behind him) just to yell at me the following words : "Hey! You're gonna get run over, man!"

It was the best thing anyone had said to me all day. And no, not because it was a very acute observation (yes, I think it's pretty much common sense that jaywalking DOES in fact risk getting run over). It was the fact that he called me "man."

I had carefully picked out my clothes this morning - as in, more so than I normally do, and all I could think was YES, THE DISGUISE WORKED.

It wasn't as good as getting called sir by an elderly lady that one time on Commercial and Broadway, when I was dressed à la Marlene Dietrich in Morocco. And no, it wasn't as entertaining as the one time in the ninth grade when I walked into the school washroom and a couple of girls at the sinks screamed because they thought I was a boy.

But regardless, I really appreciated that guy's statement. The cars behind him were probably not very happy, but I was glad he took the time to slow down traffic, look straight at me, and call me a man.

Don't get me wrong, I identify as female and always will, but there's something really cool about being mistaken for the opposite gender. It makes me feel like a seahorse!

Beatlemania just bended.

The de-evolution of the human race has started. Too bad Darwin isn't here to see it.

So music's biggest night is over and Twitter is still teasing God into destroying us in 2012 once and for all. These tweets were sent into cyberspace moments after Chris Brown's performances and win at the Grammy Awards.

Chris Brown's fans just killed an already dead horse. 


I'm sure that many of them don't actually mean what they're saying - the subject of the actual incident seems to be used to express how much they still love him and his music despite what has happened. But something as serious as violence against people should never be used to enhance a statement or as a joke to lighten a somber mood (which is done more often than any of us would like). Abuse of women, for example, is a serious issue that is unfortunately oftentimes a) Taken lightly b) Blamed on the victim c) Not addressed at all.


To see people - women and men - dismiss abuse so easily, even have a laugh over it, is one of the most disturbing things in the world to me. Does no one respect themselves and/or other people anymore? Do people not realize that in many instances, domestic violence ends in death? Since when was physical/emotional scarring and death something to laugh about?


It's even more disturbing that these are girls/women saying (or in this case, tweeting) these things. Lacking education and awareness can really skew your views on these issues. It may seem like pretty common knowledge, but clearly, people still don't understand that it is not cool to beat up other people.


So I will say this again: 

It is not cool to beat up other people, no matter what the sex of the person. Domestic violence and emotional abuse are never acts of love and care. Many people are trapped in these unhealthy and controlling relationships, which can often end in dire and sometimes fatal consequences. Therefore, to make fun of the situation, dismiss its tragic nature or make excuses for the offender's actions is extremely disrespectful to victims of abuse. 

In summary, you will end up looking like an ignorant, cold-hearted, simpleminded jackass if you say/tweet shit like this.

Chris Brown has not come close to showing any remorse for what he did. He hasn't properly apologized. He hasn't properly addressed it. And because of that, I'm still side-eyeing the people who tweeted tonight, as well as the Grammys for giving him TWO FUCKING PERFORMANCES, and all the people who gave him a fucking STANDING OVATION for said fucking performances. I'm all for forgiveness and all, but when a guy who beat up his girlfriend does not seem to give a shit about what he did, I am done. I will bite my thumb at you until it bleeds, you dick.

Ode to a public washroom

You know what I mean. You've no doubt been through this before.


You're in a public washroom in a shopping mall. You really need to pee, and you've got all your shopping bags with you. As well as your purse. And your coat. And none of the bathroom stalls have hooks. Either no one ever thought to put them up in the first place, or they've been stolen. Since hooks aren't in high demand, I am guessing it is most likely always the former.


You go into one of the bathroom stalls and the floor's seemingly flooded. But no matter, it is busy and there is a line behind you. Besides, you really, really have to pee. You see that there are some drops of water on the seat, so you wipe it clean and pile the seat with multiple layers of toilet paper. Unfortunately, there is a flush sensor right in front of you, and after five minutes of expert toilet paper layering, the sensor  decides you've been at it for too long and starts flushing. Only this isn't any regular flush, it's like 

and it goes EVERYWHERE. And all of a sudden, you figure out why the floor is slightly damper than normal. The toilet has a flush with enough power to fire a small rocket ship into the air. The water soars in every direction, soaking the seat again as well as the toilet paper you so meticulously put on it. The water hits your clothes, your shopping bags, your purse, the walls of the stall, the door. And you stand there with an expression on your face akin to

You think back to the good old days of manual flushing and of toilets that did not treat the washroom like fucking Splash Mountain. You do your business, making sure not to hit the sensor this time around, which causes you to partially stand awkwardly in a crooked position with your leg slightly swung to the side. This does not make the situation any easier.


You grab your coat, your purse and your shopping bags, roughly unlock the stall door and come out looking like this

and you go to the sink and you swing your coat over your shoulder and you put your bags between your legs as you attempt to turn on the faucet. I don't know about any of you but this is also a very difficult procedure. I can never put my stuff on the counter because it's almost always wet, and I can never put my stuff on the floor because it's almost always wet. So I always end up having to clamp my stuff between my knees as I wash my hands. As you all know, knees were not made to hold things, so this is very challenging, especially if you are carrying bags that are wider than yourself.


But look, another challenge presents itself. The faucet is also a sensor. Only this time around, it seems to be ignoring your supposedly invisible hands. You swipe at the sensor over and over again, and nothing. Apparently they oversensitized the toilet sensor and desensitized the faucet sensor. Once you finally get the faucet working, it spurts out water like this

Then you go to get some soap and you realize that goddammit the soap dispenser is also powered by a sensor. Have we become such a lazy society that it's too much work to flush toilets on our own and turn on faucets on our own and pump out soap on our own? I don't know about you guys but our attempts at making life easier actually fuck shit up instead. It's almost as if our technology is laughing back at our faces for trying to make life convenient to the point of nothingness.


So, once you finally get some soap on your hands, you spend another five minutes trying to find that faucet sensor again and when you finally get that going it takes another ten minutes to rinse out all of that soap because the water coming out of that faucet is basically air and when you go to dry your hands you suddenly get distracted because this cute girl just walked by you so you say to yourself "fuck dry hands" and you start walking after her feeling like you deserve at least some eye candy after the washroom beat down you just experienced and you're walking faster and you don't see where you're going and suddenly bang you hit a wall around the corner and you fall face first and hit the floor like this

And all you're worried about now is the fact that your own clumsiness lost you that girl. 


And to top it all off, your hands are still wet.

Look at that fucking alternative lifestyle haircut

Love is love is love is love is love.

So pretty much everyone who knows me knows that I am a total heartless traitor because I am a huge supporter of the US women's soccer team. But the beautiful thing about my love for that team is that it's a personal choice or preference, whatever you want to call it. I don't love them because I have to (that is to say, I don't actually get anything out of being a fan of theirs. If they win the gold medal in London this year, it won't benefit me in any way. Whereas if Canada won, I'd definitely benefit from seeing all the drunken versions of our national anthem being sung on the seabus from Waterfront to the North Shore. Seriously, you have not lived until you've experienced that. It is all kinds of incredible rolled into one sausage roll of awesome).

A typical BC Transit seabus. Yes, I know it looks like a VCR.

No, I love the US team simply because they play really well. It's actually kind of refreshing in a way, to root for a team based on something other than their nationality (the fact that they provide some serious arm and leg porn whenever I watch them adds to the love just a little bit too). Sure, I get sneers and gasps from my fellow Canadians as they squeal "But.....they're American!!!" As if being a Canadian who time and again likes Americans is the biggest fucking crime in the world. We as Canadians live in a northern society that worships Brad Pitt and abandoned Blackberrys for iPhones. So that holy all-Canadian pedestal you've put yourself on? It's not as holy and all-Canadian as you think it to be. 

Of course, when I say that I actually like the Canadian team as well, people tell me that it's impossible to like both teams. And that is my cue to laugh my ass off.

Cute team kicks ass.

Lastly, it's all women's soccer. I generally support all women's sports, no matter what country they're from. Women's team sports is such a rare thing that when it comes up, you snatch that chance to fangirl like crazy because you don't get that opportunity very often. There's no room to create rivalries within women's athletics - mostly because there isn't much to begin with in the first place. Many places and many sports don't even have their own professional women's leagues or if they do, have very few teams. Clearly Gary Bettman and Dan Borislow are not helping this matter.

The girls of MagicJack are totally judging Borislow and the league's annihilation of their team. As are we all.

Women are very limited when it comes to playing a sport professionally and being paid to be an athlete. There is not much out there. In the United States, if a woman wants to be paid to play football, the Lingerie Football League is about as high as you can go - a game based on SuperBowl halftime entertainment that caters to a straight male crowd, who probably wouldn't give two shits about women's sports if the women in them weren't half naked to begin with. Now, don't get me wrong, I like straight men just as much as the next person. However, some can be real morons with short-term attention spans who don't have the stamina to watch women play sports like men unless those women can be degraded and put back in their place as "object" while playing said sport. Sport is still considered a male activity centred around beer, therefore must cater to the male audience, no matter what the sex of the athlete in question may be.

Women's sports are threatening - why? Because it's seen as women trying to invade what is known to be a very male-dominated space. It's a territorial thing. Women's organized sports don't get the same treatment or the same funding or the same respect from the audience because it is still a very foreign concept. Something like the Lingerie Football League is the only way a female football player can get paid doing what she loves. Otherwise, women football players would have to pay for their own resources, their own equipment - in a world where Peyton Manning gets $23 million. 

It is unfortunate that in this day and age, in order to "advance" women's sports, we must reduce women in the process. In the end of it all, it's not about developing female athletes, it's about giving men something else to look at when they're watching ESPN. How are we supposed to create a space in which women can become better athletes, can get the funding they need, can get the chance to play the sport like their male counterparts do, if we don't respect what they do?

Not only is there a Lingerie Football League, but there is a Lingerie Basketball League too. Yes. And you thought movie sequels were bad. 

To make it worse, the LBL has taglines such as the ever so catchy and not to mention, witty: 

"America loves basketball. America loves women. And now, a  match made in hoops heaven."

The selling point:

"Are you ready for supreme athletes that are tough on their opponents but easy on the eyes?" 

The pun that is relevant yet dirty at the same time:

"Where beauty meets the hardwood."

And the summary for people too stupid to have understood the previous taglines:

"Basketball never looked so good."

The website for the Lingerie Basketball League features the MVP as well as the Hottie of the Year. It's also a league that you "audition" for, rather than "try out" for. In other words, athletic talent is not exactly the highest priority. However,  a headshot is required, as is a full body photo. Basketball skills are ranked from 1 to 5. 

Women play sports for themselves, not for men. And men REALLY need to get over that and stop producing these dumbass sports leagues.

(As a sidenote here, and I'm gonna tell you the honest to God truth. This is just my personal opinion so I hope nobody takes offense to this:

Yes, women are hot. Yes, men can be hot. No, I do not want to see men or women in their underwear while they play sports. Maybe it's just me, but all I can think of is how unsanitary that is. Like seriously, there is nothing sexy about playing any kind of contact sport while half naked. You're sweating all over each other and sharing each other's sweat and there's nothing to ABSORB that shit you know? That's what jerseys and equipment are for, for God's sake. Yes, they protect you, but they also soak up all that game play, if you get what I mean. Besides, I think jerseys look hot on people. So really, all this lingerie sports league stuff is totally unnecessary for me, because sports are sexy, period. It has nothing to do with how little an athlete is wearing. And if you can't view sports that way and need sexiness to be blatantly obvious to you in the form of lingerie, then that is just sad, I'm sorry).

I'm just saying. It would be nice if the future generation of girls understood their worth in what they can do, and not how they look. It would be cool if girls could be proud of who they are. If we could live in a world where femininity wasn't seen as a weakness, a curse, a limitation, a prison, then maybe we could finally stop trying to simplify it as everything that "masculinity" isn't. It would be pretty ideal if women athletes could be seen and treated and promoted as what they actually are - athletes.

Apparently as of now, that is still too much to ask for.

P.S.: The US women's soccer team won against New Zealand 2-1 on February 11th at the FC Dallas Stadium in Frisco, TX, thanks to 2 later goals by Alex Morgan. I am fucking HAPPY.