Deconstructing R.

I like the ... with big booties in 'em
I like the crotch on you
I want what you've got baby

In 1993, I was 17 and just finishing up my last year in high school. That year also marked the first time I heard the words “I don't see nothing wrong with a little bump 'n grind.”

I have never been a lover or a hater of R. Kelly’s music. I thought his lyrics were ridiculous (“you remind me of my jeep, I wanna ride it” was particularly bad), but no more inane than anyone else being played on the radio at the time.

And then homeboy got busted.

I am a celebrity gossip whore of the worst kind, so of course I was all over it like fat kid on a smartie. Here is the rap sheet:

• Patrice Jones filed a suit against him for alleged statutory rape (she was apparently 16 when he was bumpin' and grindin' with her) and for forcing her to have an abortion.
• He was arrested after indictment on 21 counts of child pornography, which included a very graphic tape of him fucking a girl of 14. (He denied it was him, even though IT TOTALLY WAS HIM!)
• Montina Woods filed a suit against him for secretly taping the two of them having sex. (The tape is all over the Internet at this point.)
• He is arrested on charges of child pornography yet again, after the police raid his apartment only to find digital pictures of him fucking yet another underage girl.

So after all of this, I am of course completely repelled by this man. He not only makes hokey music about boning this and that, he likes the pre-pubescent ladies. So grody.

What does the general public do? They continue to buy his albums of course. He’s successfully released 4 albums since his arrests and his latest one, TP.3 Reloaded, just debuted at number one.

Let’s consider R. Kelly’s situation. He’s still not cleared of all charges; in fact, he’s still scheduled to appear in court. And although they buy his albums, people still think he’s likes to fuck young girls. What does one do if one were R. Kelly?

I think the last thing would be to release an album of hardcore songs about fucking with titles like Sex Weed, Touchin’ and (Sex) Love is What We’re Makin’.

My favourite song lyrics on this album appear in the song Put My T-Shirt On

T-shirt on gurl I love to see you wit my t-shirt on after we just got through hitten it in my home
(baby this is wat I wonna do)
wonna sex you in my white t stroke you in my white t honey put this...t-shirt on
gurl I love to see you wit my t-shirt on after we just got through hitten it in my home
(gurl this is what i wont)
bend it ova in that white-t let me hit it in that white-t

Wow. All this just before he has to go tell a judge that he is not a pervert who likes to bone young girls.

I must say. The man has got some big balls.

New to this stuff

For me, this is the year of “dealing with some bad shit,” which is something that is new to me. For the first time ever, I had to deal with the death of someone I really cared for and who had been a part of my life since I was 16. I have known people who have died, but I’ve never been really close to any of them, so I never really had to confront the issue so explicitly.

Added to this, there were two cancer scares within my social circle. So now people my own age (28) are starting to get sick, which is also an eye-opening experience. When you’re young, you don’t think about getting sick and when you are faced with the issue, it’s almost unbelievable.

One of my closest and dearest friends in the world lives in London. We’ll call her H. H lives there with her wonderful sister (D), brother-in-law (M) and niece (B). We see each other at Christmas. We hang out with each other’s families. I get updates and photos on B and her developments. They are good people.

I got into work late on Thursday and immediately had to get some stuff done right away. I didn’t get to the day’s news until about 10AM my time. When I read about the bombings in London, I immediately felt my stomach drop. I sat there for a few minutes and re-read the story, just to make sure that I had read it right.

All of a sudden I was frantic. I called H’s mobile phone and couldn’t get her. I kept hitting re-dial. I ransacked my desk for her home number and then realized it was on my Palm, which was at home. I sent an hysterical email. I looked for H’s mom’s phone number and picked up the phone to call her.

Then I got the email. They were safe. Only M was on the Tube. He’s shaken up but he’s safe. I started to cry tears of relief. I had never been so panicked.

H called later to give me details. M had taken a train that he didn’t normally take because he was on his way to a meeting. He just missed a train. When the second train came, he moved further down the platform as he thought it might be less crowded.

The bomb went off near King's Cross station. M saw a bright light and heard a loud bang. All he could think about was his wife and daughter. Above ground, a bomb had gone off at the tube station near H’s office, so they were sealed off for hours.

It was so close for them, especially M. Although I am so grateful that they are safe, I keep thinking about how close it was for M. What if he hadn’t moved over? He was so close to getting on a train that killed 21 people and injured so many more.

I know that all this is just the tip of the iceberg. There are going to be a lot more moments in my life that will involve death and tragedy. I have to somehow learn how to handle it more effectively and somehow learn and grow from it.

TomKat and Religious Rights

Apart from bringing back the old Hollywood practice of star matchmaking to hide a matineé idol’s otherwise obvious homosexuality, the unholy union of TomKat has started a whirlwind of public dialogue around the Church of Scientology. Since I love a good trend, I am taking this opportunity to weigh in my opinion on the matter. (Not on TomKat, but Scientology)

As I watched Tom Cruise slip into the dreaded “fundamentalist gaze” with Matt Lauer, I pretty much knew what was coming—fundamentalist meltdown or “fundy melt” for short. What made his fundy melt strange to me was that he was ranting about Scientology, a religion I know very little about. Here is what I know about Scientology:

• It’s based on a really poorly-written book by L. Ron Hubbard
• Lots of celebrities who were big in the late 1980s are into it
• Is associated with aliens who are in our bodies
• Uses terms like “thetan” and “engrams”
• Is “organized” in a mafioso or cult-like manner
  

Being that I knew very little about the subject, I’ve been reading as much as I can find on it. Most of my information has come from xenu.net, specifically a really good Time magazine article. I’ve also been reading this series on Scientology on Salon.com. Although I don’t consider myself a scholar on the matter, I do feel like I’ve got an opinion.

Like most religions, Scientology certainly appeals to those of us who are looking for some answers to life’s great questions and to some extent, a source of order within chaos. At some point or another we have all been lost and have needed something to help us along. For some of us it’s booze and for others it’s religion. (I personally use 1 part gin, 1 part religion, shaken not stirred.)

Nevertheless Scientology is some crazy ass shit. Here are just some reasons why I think it’s crazy:

• L. Ron Hubbard says that an “evil demigurge” named Xenu blew up 178 billion souls with hydrogen bombs hidden in volcanoes and now these souls or “thetans” are embedded in us all
• Charges its followers up to half a million dollars for courses that will help them become a “Clear” or “optimum individual”
• According to Tom Cruise, Scientologists believe that there is no such thing as chemical imbalances (is this motherfucker for real???)
• Resorts to using drug and alcohol centres to do some recruiting (this is how Kirstie Alley was snared)
  

And the list goes on and on. At the risk of sounding like a member of the Roman Empire looking to persecute some Christians, I have to say that I think Scientology is a load of horseshit (or malarkey for more delicate sensibilities) and you would have to be out of your mind to call it “spiritual.” Even so, people still have every right to practice it as a religion.

Just stay the hell away from me.

I'm Back!

So it’s been a while…

Basically, I have been on a mad hunt to find a place to live. My lovely roommate of the past four years is finally getting married to one of my old high school buddies. This of course is a fantastic and joyous occasion!

Nevertheless, finding a place to live has been ROUGH. I am a complete disaster when it comes to finding myself a place to live and have not always made the best decisions.

The first place I lived when I got to Toronto looked like a youth hostel and my superintendent kept offering me hot oil massages. My current place has been a success mainly because I had nothing to do with finding it.

Originally I was slated to move out in July. My new roommate and I found a wonderful place to live, only to discover that our potential new landlady was a tad on the crazy neurotic side. She called me five times to ask questions that ranged from how often my boyfriend would be over to whether or not I smoked pot. (3-4 times a week and on occasion)

After looking at a plethora of dumps, I had a mini-breakdown and we decided to hold off on the moving for another month. At this point, we started getting our shit together in a big way.

Did you know that you could use a realtor when you’re looking to rent? My friend hooked me up with a fantastic realtor (Danielle Thompson if you’re curious) and she basically found us the perfect spot. She also did pretty much everything for us, including negotiate the price of our rent. To make things better, we didn’t have to pay a cent!

So to make a long short, I finally have a place to live!

Here is the front:



Here is the fireplace:



Here is the kitchen:



Now I can get back to my life.

Carry on.

What the ef happened to Kirk Cameron?

I wasn’t much of a Kirk Cameron fan growing up, but I do recall that he was the shit. Trading Kirk posters for Jon Bon Jovi ones was not hard to do. (That lion’s mane. That gorilla chest. How could a girl of twelve resist?)

At one point and time, Kirk Cameron was Mike Seaver. He was your quintessential middle-class, miscreant teen with a best friend named Boner. With Alan Thicke as his dad, Kirk could not get any cooler. During the mid to late 1980s, he was every pre-pubescent girl’s (and some boys) wet dream.

So here is how my question. What the ef happened to Kirk Cameron?

Some things to consider when pondering this question:

The movie Left Behind. In this film, Kirk plays the protagonist in a movie about the rapture. The RAPTURE. It is not done in an ironic, satirical or humourous way. It is an actual serious movie about the RAPTURE.



The Way of the Master Web site. There is no way I can begin to describe this Web site. You need to click on it to believe it. It basically tells you that you and all your loved ones are destined for an eternity in hell if you don’t accept Jesus as your saviour.

Turns out Mike Seaver is a crazy evangelical Christian.

Did anyone else see this coming? To quote Fred Willard…wha happen? Can anyone please tell me how the once lovable Mike Seaver turned into Jimmy Swaggart?

My first love…my endless love (for Lionel)

I think your first celebrity crush says a lot about you. If, for example, your first crush was Jordan Knight when you were twelve, you are most likely on the better side of conventional. You may get your couture from a sensible retail chain like J. Crew, you like your lattés from Starbucks and you love you some missionary position.

Although, as children, we aspired to Jordan Knight first crushes, some of us were not so lucky. In 1983, I was seven years old and my family had been in Canada a total of three years. We were all just starting to get the hang of the English language and my father was really starting to embrace the popular music of the day.

Now I know seven is a bit early for crushes, but I had a boyfriend in kindergarten (the hottest blond in my class, thank you very much) and I was showing my panties to all the boys by the time I was six. You could say I started my “skank” phase early.

I digress. The day my father brought home a little album called Can’t Slow Down was the day I knew I was into dudes. There was Lionel. White pants and baby blue shirt and perched alluringly on a backward chair. His jheri curl was perfection and his moustache gleamed. He made me tingle all over.



Needless to say, I made my dad by every Lionel record and we played them until the broke. These days, when I see Lionel on TV or see him in a photo, I still feel all tingly inside. If it came down to Brad Pitt and Lionel, there would be no contest.



Lionel forever.

Play on Playette

I love love love me some Eva Longoria. And I have yet to watch one full episode of Desperate Housewives.

Eva is one of those rare beasts in the celebrity world. She is a lady who likes the gents. Not just one in particular, but a whole lot of them. What makes Eva rare is the fact the she has yet to be called a slut by the entertainment media.

She’s juggled Tony Parker and JC Chasez all the while continuing to mack new boys. She isn’t looking for Mr. Right, she’s looking for Mr. Right Now. Judging by some of her escorts of late, she isn’t looking for much up top. Just rock-hard abs and a smile will do for Ms. Longoria. If she were Madonna, there would already be a million “Eva has STDs” jokes by now. Instead, homegirl is a bonafide playa.

I wish Eva were around when I was single. For so long, I just wanted to mack the hot guys and not have to have it be “meaningful.” It’s so refreshing to see a woman just have some fun with some cute boys. Eva just got divorced and she is not looking for love. More women should take a page from the Longoria book. Sometimes a girl just needs a hot piece of ass.

Godspeed Eva.

Can you mandal it?

Ah warm weather…

So many great things that come along with the warm weather. Picnics, BBQs, patios, cute girls in mini-skirts, cute boys in tank tops, just to name a few.

However, all is not idyllic in the world of warm weather. Yes, there are scary things that come with warm weather. One such frightening item is the MANDAL or man sandal. As with most things, there is the good,



the bad,



and the ugly.



So men, if you must get your mandal on, please do us all a favour and ask for some help from your more stylish friends and lovers. And for the love of all things sacred, get a GD pedicure. I don’t care if it’s a home spa solution or if it’s done at your local Vietnamese pedicure purveyor. Mandals or not, no one you love needs to see your feet looking all crusty.

My "Top 5"

I know that I’ve been posting a lot about women I love, but it’s just the mood I’ve been in lately. I think my boyfriend is starting to get worried. Yesterday, he asked me about my “Top 5” list and famous men I would bang. Surprisingly, I could only come up with two names immediately.

The other 3 took a lot of time. And when I finally got my list down, I promptly forgot one of the members. So to preserve this list before I forget it yet again, here is my list of top 5 who make me want to touch myself appropriately.

Viggo Mortensen: A poet, artist and a thespian. This man is a lover not a fighter.

Clive Owen: I’ve loved him since I saw him in ‘Close my Eyes’, a movie about him banging his sister. Even as a dirtbag in ‘Closer’ he is HOT.

Colin Firth: Not your normal pin-up, but there is this quiet sexiness about him. He looks like the type of guy that would roger you over the bathroom sink, while at his aunt’s garden tea party. HOT!

Adam Yauch: He can rhyme all the time and he wants to save Tibet. Activism is always HOT.

Johnny Depp: For obvious reasons, this one is a given. I think he’s a staple on everyone’s top 5 list (male or female).



After compiling my list, I realized that I sure do have a thing for the 40something white male. This is funny as the guy I am currently banging is a 20something, non-white male. Weird.

Shakira makes me want to have sex with women

Wow. Wowawewa.

If you’ve not already done so, please take some time and treat yourself to a viewing of the Shakira video for her new song, La Tortura. You might want to do so when you have access to some boo-tay as this video will full on make you want to bang someone.

Just to summarize some highlights, Shakira is covered in black oil and she does this move where she only moves her breasts. There is a lot of writhing and a scene where her lover “surprises” her from behind. Here is a shot of her covered in black oil.



It is a damn shame that this video will most likely not receive mainstream air time on MuchMusic or MTV because

1. It’s far too hot
2. It’s not in English
3. It will make most women want to become lesbians

Kimora who? Shakira is all that plus tax.

Ode to Kimora

Sometimes I get obsessed with female celebrities for no reason in particular. I mainly like the mean ones. If she’s hot, flamboyant, has a fat ass and a reputation for being a superbitch, I’ve probably had some sort of girl crush on her.

The most recent apple of my Sapphic eye is Kimora Lee Simmons. For those of you who don’t know, Kimora is the wife of hip hop icon Russell Simmons and she is a piece of work. I got my first glimpse of Kimora when she was being interviewed for her Baby Phat clothing line, a wardrobe staple of urban hoochies the world over. After reading her profile in the New Yorker, Kimora and I were official.

Alas, my beloved Kimora is no Susan Sontag. She is a label-whore, not very smart and is the incarnation of every nouveau riche stereotype you can imagine. She is ghetto fabulous looking to move up in the world. However, her drug bust almost guarantees that she will not be rubbing elbows with any Rockefellers anytime soon. Add to that the absolute egomania that is starring in all the ads for your own clothing line. (JLo doesn’t even do that, so you know homegirl’s head is about ready to burst, it’s so big.) Even her fame stems from her successfully bewitching Russell Simmons. (Baby Phat is the girl version of Phat Farm and have you seen the Def Jam video game?)

Nevertheless, I love Kimora the way I’ve loved Mariah, Beyoncé and JLo in years past. And until the next big-bottomed superbitch comes along, I will always have my Kimora.

My new favourite drinky drink

My love affair with the bottle has been a long and somewhat tempestuous one. There was a three-year stretch where I viewed sobriety as a sign of conservative Puritanism. (What do you mean you don't drink? What are you? A fascist Quaker?)

Older and not much wiser, but surely more sober, I've come to realize that loving booze does not have to hurt so good. Although I don't pound it back like I used to, I enjoy a drink pretty much every evening. I think it's so civilized to come home and wind down with a little something on the rocks.

My newest obsession is Bison vodka. This Polish vodka is made from Bison grass native to the Bialowieza forest, home of the European bison. How fucking yuppie is that??? Here's how I recommend that you enjoy this spirit:

In a highball glass, mix 1.5 parts of straight-from-the-freezer Bison vodka with 1 part cassis and 2 good glugs of club soda. Stir and enjoy.

Dorothy Parker herself would shed a tear, this drink is so good.

Jumping on the blog bandwagon

Well it seems everyone and their Filipino maid has a blog of some sort, so what the hell. Basically, I like to ramble/rant about the following:

• politics
• pop culture
• anything that makes me angry
• booze
• myself

With the odd foray into sports and few other miscellaneous topics, this is pretty much what you can expect from me.