Mama Said Knock You Out

When I graduated from Queen's and was unemployed for two months, I started writing a Harlequin romance novel. This was a fun project because:

a) I've never actually read a Harlequin (or any romance novel)
b) Writing sex scenes = hilarious and
c) My book was about an attorney-cum-spy named Eve Stratton who looked suspiciously like Bettie Page and put James Bond to shame with her promiscuity. Also, Ms. Stratton was obsessed with boxing.

The working title? "Knockout". (I know, I know.)


"Keep yer dukes up or smell my
leather, sissyboy!"

Anyway, I made it to chapter 2 1/2 or so before I got bored, but I was half-thinking of resurrecting it this summer, just for the hell of it.

Unfortunately for both myself and Eve Stratton, this whole female boxer thing has gotten pretty freaking trendy. I recently read something about Paul Kariya's sister, a competitive female boxer. A few friends have been taking boxing classes. And, of course, there's Million Dollar Baby (which, despite the horrific incidents within it, inspired me to wail away on a punching bag at the gym earlier today.)

Anyone who knows me is aware of my extreme dislike of sports (watching and participating) and knows how completely non-confrontational and passive I am...but I go apeshit for boxing.

Sweaty, muscle-bound athletes pummeling each other while blood and saliva (and, if we're really lucky, teeth) fly through the air...honestly, what's not to love?

(Now playing: "David Watts", The Jam)

Baby, You Could Be Famous

Hey, check it out - I'm hot shit! (Scroll down to the bottom of the page for the list of critics who contributed. I'm in pretty great company, even though neither Bill Welychka nor Strombie participated this year.)

In other hot-shit-related news, Elan's movie Alone in the Dark (starring Christian Slater and Tara Reid...for serious!) is getting released in North America tomorrow. If you are at all familiar with Golden Words staffers in the late 1990's and early 2000's, check out the names of some of the characters and you'll have a laugh. Also, Elan promises that all of our namesakes die horribly. Can't wait!

Agent 'Marko, signing out.

(Now playing: "It's a Hit", Rilo Kiley)

Things I Have Done in the Past Seven Hours Which Have Nothing to do With Writing My Media Law Essay (which is due this Tuesday)

• had breakfast
• checked my email
• gave myself a mini-facial
• shaved my legs
• checked my email
• read Style section of The Globe & Mail
  
• got dressed
• wrote some email
• had lunch
  
• played with different shades of brown eyeshadow that I got in a Clinique bonus giftbag a few months ago but have never ever used because I find proper eyeshadow application daunting, if not completely impossible
  
• had a fruitcup
• wandered aimlessly around the apartment
• fed Liz's guinea pig
• attempted to strike up meaningful conversation with Liz's guinea pig
• blogged

I think I'm going to check my email now.

(Now playing: "Le Responsable", Jacques Dutronc)

Uncomfortably Numb

Today's high was -23 degrees. The low (factoring in the windchill) was apparently -41 this morning, but by the time I left the house, it had settled down to a balmy-by-comparison -36.

A particularly bad day to lose a button on one's winter coat. Which I did.

My action-packed weekend included the company of a fun houseguest, a party at our apartment on Saturday (the damage: 45+ people, 0 irate neighbours, 3 shattered glasses, 1 groping incident, 1 fool mouth, 1 ruined date, 1 potentially ruined marriage) and seeing the Scissor Sisters with Katie on Sunday night.

I didn't know much about the Scissor Sisters going into the show, except that they're fucking huge in the UK and they do a rather horrific disco-fied cover of Pink Floyd's "Comfortably Numb". I went to Spectrum with an open mind, not expecting very much.

The Scissor Sisters were super awesome!



They took everything that was brutal about the 1970's (sequins, disco, shiny pants, fun fur, synchronized dance moves, etc.) and made it good. They were fun and funny and energetic and costumed and campy and kicked complete ass. I may not have been wowed by all of their songs, but their hilarious stage banter and the fact that I was so thoroughly entertained from start to finish more than made up for it.

One of the best moments of the show was during the encore (after a wardrobe change) when Ana Matronic said, "This is a traditional Scottish folk song" and they proceeded to do a really great cover of Franz Ferdinand's "Take Me Out". I squealed and clapped along with all of the vigour and enthusiasm I usually reserve for Sharon, Lois and Bram or Sandra Beach concerts.

I'm going to use the recent cold snap as an excuse to hole myself up in my room and do schoolwork this week and weekend. I mean it. All work. No play. Signed it. Stamped it. No erasies.

(Now playing: "The Smell of Incense", The Smoke Rings)

Music My Rock

Once upon a time, in a land just about 3 hours east of Toronto, four boys met in residence at Queen's University. They shared a love of reggae/dub music and started a band. They called this band Bedouin Soundclash. The boys (Jay Malinowski, Eon Sinclair, Patrick Pengelly and, at the time, Brett Dunlop) did a lot of Bob Marley covers. They had some original stuff too, but they mainly stuck with cover songs.

The boys played the Queen's Battle of the Bands in 2000. Yours truly was on the judging panel. I'd heard a lot about the band from my frosh, and thought they had a cool name, so I was excited to hear them play. I was disappointed. In my comments to them, I wrote something along the lines of "derivative...try to stray from Marley covers. See you next year." They still wound up placing second, despite my critical remarks and low score.

Fast forward to the Queen's Battle of the Bands, 2001. I was once again on the judging panel. Bedouin Soundclash took the stage. And wouldn't you know it, the little fuckers had gotten GOOD? They easily won the Battle, and I became an official fan.

Eventually, the band got signed to Stomp Records. They've toured all over the place, their recent sophomore release "Sounding a Mosaic" was well-received by critics and they probably get insane amounts of pussy.

And they lived happily ever after.

Last night I went to see Bedouin Soundclash play Petit Cafe Campus. So did over 200 other people. Many of them knew all the words to their songs. They danced. They sang. They sweated. They threw their arms up into the air. They giggled about them in the bathroom while re-applying lipgloss. They bought their CDs. They bought their t-shirts. They cried out for an encore. And then they screamed for more.

Gone are the days of catching their acoustic set at the QP for $2, I'm sure.

During their amazing set, I felt simultaneously proud, jealous, nostalgic and dumbfounded. Dumbfounded because this was the same band I didn't think would go anywhere five years go.

Bedouin Soundclash are now rockstars. And deservedly so.

Christ, what the hell did I know?

(Now playing: "Living in Jungles", Bedouin Soundclash)

This is a Bad Day

Point form only. Can't handle complete sentences right now.

• On bus ride to school, a man collapsed. At first I thought the bus had hit something, but then I saw this young guy flat on his back. Pallid. No one knew what to do. Eventually, some people helped him up and the colour came back to his face. He swore up and down that he was fine and left the bus. All passengers fairly traumatized, myself included.
• Not five minutes later, bus slammed on brakes and narrowly avoided a snowplow. Scary.
• Learned this morning that a good portion of my class got interviews for summer internships to the Montreal Gazette. I am not one of them. Now, I'm not in love with the Gazette, so I am not completely heart-broken but this does clinch the fact that I'll be moving back to Toronto this summer. And Montreal summers are so lovely. Montreal in general is so lovely. Leaving will be difficult.
• Had to haul 40 pounds of Sony camera and a tripod from NDG to my apartment halfway across the city. It sucked.
• Thought I could totally make the metro car, until its doors closed right in my face. It would have been funny if it wasn't me.
• Spilled change everywhere.
• Very nearly clocked someone in the head with the aforementioned tripod (accidentally).
• Achilles heel injury caused by gym shoes aggravated by winter boots, resulting in icky blood-encrusted socks.
• Spilled alfalfa sprouts all over the fridge. Cursed God irrationally.
• Just spent ten elevator-muzak-filled minutes on hold for a ten second conversation.

It's only 3 o'clock.

I'm not leaving my fucking room for the rest of the day.

(Now playing: "Un Mauvais Quart D'Heure a Passer", Ria Bartok)

Comfy New You

Happy oh five.

New Year's Eve was pretty good. Hil and I got drunk on cheap wine and Tom Waits before heading to a house party near High Park where I brought in the new year with some of my favourite people.

Best line of the night: "1985 is gonna be awesome!" - Jonathan Bunce

I made no attempts to befriend or even really talk to anyone unfamiliar to me at the party. Maybe that will carry over and become a new year's resolution?

Tomorrow, I'm joining the gym two blocks away from my apartment. My poor, oft-abused body has been screaming for some routine cardio for a while, and I've been ignoring it (because it's easier and cheaper that way). Not no more.

Winter has been a bit of a non-event so far. Usually I dread the months of November through March, but I've managed to avoid the extreme cold. I haven't even broken out my fun stripey scarf yet. Either everyone who's warned me about Montreal's brutal winters are a bunch of pussies or global warming is super duper awesome!

(Now playing: "Loved On Look", The Sadies)