I Love a Little Good News

This story is awesome. An 8-year-old gets lost on a weekend camping trip in Colorado. He's missing for three days. Remarkably, a search party finds him hiding in a cave:

He was found about five miles away from the campsite. It took rescuers on ATVs 1½ hours to ferry Evan out to a staging area. Afterward, Evan ate bananas and pizza.

Evan then told his aunt he wants to go camping again.
msnbc.com

How cool are kids? A little pizza and he's ready to go again.

I'm Not Catherine Zeta-Jones.

My friends used to make fun of the fact that I'm pretty oblivious when it comes to the whole flirtation thing. I am completely inept when it comes to scoping out the hot guy, or noticing when someone is "into" me. I'm cool with it. I don't think I could date a guy who goes out with girls who scope him out anyway.

Today, however, some kind of radar kicked in when I was at the grocery store. I could tell that there was a guy behind me looking at me. And I don't think it's just because I took the last head of lettuce (man, was I lucky that last one wasn't wilting). As the cashier was ringing in my order (just one head, that's it), the guy starts talking to me.

This was his opening line:

"Is that your natural hair colour?"

What is that? How do I respond to that? He's old and British, clearly priding himself in being a little hipper than his peers. He reminds me of Bill Nighy (all nice and creepy ala Love Actually). He could be my grandfather. If my grandfather hit on girls in their twenties.

Me: Sort of.
Creepyman: Oh, so it's tinted.
Me: Yeah. It was lighter.
Creepyman: Oh, 'cause I was wondering. You know, maybe your hair goes like that in the sun. It lightens to that.
Me: I haven't been out in the sun much yet.
Creepyman: Well, it's a beautiful colour.
Me: Thanks.

I grab my lettuce and run (hoping that the cashier will keep the guy from following me).

I am not Catherine Zeta-Jones. I don't really have a thing for old men. At least not grocery-store old men. I wonder if she met Michael Douglas in a grocery store.

Man, my neighbourhood sucks sometimes. I should hang out in Yorkville. At least those old men are wealthy.

Miracles Happen

My landlord came over and turned on the air conditioning. It's hot outside, the convenience store is out of ice cream, I can't go anywhere, but at least I'M NOT GOING TO MELT ANYMORE!!!

For those who have visited the little sauna I call home, this is a very big deal.

Stranded

Last night I checked my work schedule. I was a little overwhelmed. It had me training for 4 hours today, but also had a project due today that would take 7-8 hours. 4+7 does not equal an 8-hour day.

When my alarm clock woke me up at 6 this morning, I was about to press the snooze button when the news girl announced a TTC strike. From out of nowhere. I can't get to work. I take a bus, a subway and the streetcar to get to work. Apparently, it takes about 2 hours to get a cab this morning. It would be about a 3-hour walk to work, and considering that with humidity it's about 39 celsius today, even if I made it this morning, I'd probably pass out on the way home.

At least I don't have to work for 11 hours today. I'm sure my bosses are not impressed, but until they give me the kind of raise that makes $50 cab rides worth it, I'm not going anywhere. Well, maybe to the gross convenience store across the street, but nowhere else.

9 to 5

Today, I worked for 10 hours straight. I was subtitling a behind-the-scenes documentary for a musical that will only be available on the Korean DVD. I don't speak Korean. Nor do I type it. But someone out there does, and they need my English to translate.

I'm not sure why I work long days. I think if I was being paid about six times what I'm making, the idea of overtime would be more appealing. I think that's why rich people are workaholics. It's more tempting to work more when you're raking in the dough. When you're just getting by, a few more hours is only a few more dollars. So, in trying to prevent workaholism from getting a hold on me and subsequently hurting future relationships and my ability to have a life, I really should work less.

Oh, and Ben Mulroney grosses about $400,000 a year. - Toronto Life Magazine
He spends half of it on hair gel. - Me

Television Oddities

It's May sweeps. Everyone wants ratings. Things are going crazy:

1. Mischa Barton being killed off on The O.C.

Yes, this was the only reason I watched the episode (the rumours of her demise appealed to my sense of creative justice. Adolescent whining does not a force of talent make). Her lifeless body is carried her down a dark road by her ex-boyfriend to Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah." Maybe the producers feel the same way I do: Hallelujah, she's dead.

2. David Hasselhoff crying at the American Idol finale.

Why? Oh, I remember. Because your big concert special was overshadowed by the O.J. Bronco chase a decade ago and your music career never really recovered. Or never really began. I'm usually moved when men cry. I laughed. And didn't feel guilty.

3. The ABC promo.

"One" by U2 is one of the greatest songs ever written. I don't say that lightly. It's gorgeous. Mary J. Blige didn't completely butcher it in her recent cover either. But while I'm on the topic of butchering, they used "One" to promote (excuse me while I projectile vomit) Desperate Housewives and the rest of the ABC lineup. If Bono was dead, he'd roll over in his grave. Since he's not, he'll just have to keep being cooler than everyone else on the planet. No one will remember those skinny Botoxed broads in 5 years anyway.

Speaking of Doug...

He's coming to U of T next week!!!!!

I'm pretty stoked. Check out the info here if you're in the area.

I guess I'll buy JPod after all (on the condition I get some sort of scrawled autograph on it).

I wonder how I can get the rights to his novels for film adaptations for zero dollars...

Blonde Moment of the Month

I got a scary-looking letter in the mail about my life insurance policy. It said my status was pending as I sent them incomplete medical records. "How could this be?" I asked myself in panic, feeling a fatal disease coming on.

At the bottom of the third page of documents was my error: I was supposed to sign my name and the date. I signed my name and birth date. Yes, folks, I told the insurance people that I signed my statement of health in 1983.

Obviously, I'm a horrible liar.

You Know You're Boring When....

Today I went to the mall. I should have bought shoes, I suppose, but I'm not very good at spending money on the frivolity that is footwear. I saw a tabloid photo of Nicole Richie walking down the street in barefeet, and since she's considered a trendsetter, I'm considering showing up for work sans soles.

Douglas Coupland has a new book out. I happen to love Douglas Coupland (in the platonic-literary-crush, his-books-are-brilliant kind of way). But I don't love spending money. Again, no purchase for me.

Instead, I was trying to find a jeweler who would repair my $25 necklace. The first jeweler looked at it, shook his head, and said, "I'm sorry, I only have a silver clasp. It will cost you $15."

The next man said, "No problem. I have a silver clasp for you. It's only $7."

Yep, I'm at the stage in life where I actually compare estimates and shop around.

I then headed to the grocery store, bought a pre-made salad there instead of at the food court, and headed home, reading my library book on the bus.

You just can't trust American voters.

I'm not a huge American Idol fan. I usually only half pay attention when it's on, zoning out the non-witty banter and ridiculous intros, and trying to ignore poor arrangements and song choices.

That said, I was fully convinced that Chris was going to win this year. This is why I am not a betting woman. You cannot predict the American public.

Maybe they just don't consider an idol to be pitch-perfect, passionate, and professional.

Maybe they just don't like their presidents to be literate.

Maybe you just need to be an American to understand.

"Everybody's Working on the Weekend"

That would be me.

Overtime pay = good.

The fact that overtime pay means you have to work 6 days a week = not good.

Da Vinci. Not really all that original.

Not one to usually jump on bandwagons of any sort, I was curious enough to pick up a copy of The Da Vinci Code, mostly to find out what was so controversial about it.

I'm not the conspiracy theory type, but I've been half-awake enough to have heard of the whole Mary Magdelene thing. Please don't pretend that this is an original idea. It is not shocking. The possibility of a woman being centrally featured in The Last Supper is a pretty popular theory, or so I thought.

So why are people picketing the movie?

The novel was fun. Because it was a novel. Not a textbook. Not a historical document. Fiction. I thought it was pretty great fiction. It sounded probable, which is what makes ficton good. Personally, I'm not a fan of fiction that seems like details are pulled from thin air. I want it to feel grounded in truth. That doesn't mean that it is truth. It just feels like it could be.

The last thing Christians should be doing is protesting. We should be excited that people are interested in the life and historical significance of Christ. And instead of wasting our time directly attacking the book and debunking the theories presented, we should probably just introduce them to the real Jesus.

Instead of buying out theatres showing The Passion or boycotting The Da Vinci Code, maybe we should take some responsibility for how the world sees Christ.

Stay

Today, I rented the movie Stay. I'm not sure why. Probably because I was going to be watching it alone, and I was pretty sure that this was one of those movies nobody would want to watch with me anyway...

First off, it's visually fascinating. Stunning and mind-boggling at times. Very stylized and abstract.

Secondly, Ryan Gosling is amazing. Not that that was a surprise. I swear, he's one of the best actors out there. Period.

Lastly, the story didn't work. It tried too hard to be sophisticated and complicated that it just left me both confused and underwhelmed. And the plot holes, man, they were everywhere. I think it tried to say too much about things we can't explain. The whole near-death experience that actually ends in death is just too much for an hour-and-a-half flick dealing with psychiatry, fine art and car crashes.

Anywho, there you go. I watched it so you don't have to. But Gosling was good.

Always an Old Woman

Nothing is on TV on Saturdays. I was jotting down notes for a play adaptation with the tube on in the background, when the show Super Sweet 16 came on. Sure, it's nice to have a party when you turn 16. This particular girl had a party that cost her insane parents $300,000!

I turned 16 in a gymnasium in Burnt Church, NB. No one bought me a BMW, but since I still don't have a license, that would have been a pretty significant waste of money. I did get a 16-shaped birthday cake, and was serenaded with a rousing rendition of "Happy Birthday." That was plenty for me.

The old lady in me thought about the $300,000 and decided that I could pay off my OSAP and purchase a small, hip condo downtown with that kind of cash, giving me the freedom to decrease my work hours and dedicate more time to freelance writing projects.

Poor girl. I think her life just peaked at 16, being carried in by muscular men, a snake wrapped around her neck.

Me and Gene Kelly

I learned something today. The director of Newsies, perhaps the greatest musical of the nineties, was trained under Gene Kelly (whom I affectionately refer to as my "dead man crush.")

Who needs to be Kevin Bacon? I can play Six Degrees of Separation without him:

Gene Kelly taught Kenny Ortega to dance.
Kenny Ortega directed Christian Bale (a favourite since Jr. High).
Christian Bale starred in Batman Begins with Morgan Freeman.
Morgan Freeman worked with Reneé Zellweger in Nurse Betty.
Reneé Zellweger starred in Chicago, featuring the acrobat Megan Fehlberg.
Megan Fehlberg directed ME in a one-act play at the University of Guelph.

Yep. I'm connected to both Gene and Christian. I bet you're all jealous now, huh?

New Bus

Today I saw a bus flashing the sign, "New Bus."

I can appreciate that. It probably doesn't want to be mistaken for an old one. I wouldn't.

What Confuses Me

1. How did Amy Fisher make her way back on the pop culture radar? Mary Jo Buttafuocois' on Oprah, Amy's on the entertainment shows-- I just don't understand. This is not a new story. There are no new developments (aside from the one headline: "Is Amy Fisher Anorexic?").

2. What happens to celebrity puppies when it's no longer trendy to carry them around in designer handbags? Which leads me to...

3. What happens to the children when this Hollywood adoptation trend gets dated? (And please, adoptation people, don't give a baby to Jessica Simpson).

The Entertainment Tonight Code

Today, as I was channel surfing (sent home early from work - again. Clearly, work isn't working for me. I think I'm going to have to marry rich), I saw an entertainment faux-newsperson promoting The DaVinci Code.

With the kind of sincerity that shows off a whitened smile and a fake tan, I believe she said, "It's one of the most anticipated films this May."

Finally some honesty. "There are a lot of films coming out this summer, and this happens to be one of the many that we've been looking forward to over-hyping."

Good to the Second-Last Drop

Today I bought some echinacea throat drops as a preemptive strike against a sore throat I could feel coming on. I was training all morning at work, and wanted to make sure my voice could handle it.

The box says I can have up to a maximum of 18 drops a day.
The box also says it contains 19 drops.

Everyone who buys this particular brand is supposed to have the kind of self-control that can resist the last drop. There is no warning as to what will happen if I take the last one. What exactly are the consequences of an echinacea overdose? Will I become too healthy?