Saving Spider-man

There are spoilers in this blog. That's how you know I'm a nerd because I pay attention.

Apparently the new Amazing Spider-man franchise with Andrew Garfield needs to be saved. Despite raking in some nice cash on opening weekend, it apparently is lagging behind the last franchise starring Tobey Maguire. While there are some proposals on the table to save this franchise, I have to ask myself, wearing my nerd hat, why should this franchise be saved?

I know it's worth a lot to Sony. My heart bleeds. But I'm speaking as a comic book nerd who has loved Spider-man for years and could not wait for a movie franchise to open when Tobey Maguire first landed the role. Of course, being a nerd, I had my reservations; Tobey at the time seemed too skinny, I didn't like the webslingers being a part of his mutation, and I was fully aware that the original girl next door is, in fact, Gwen Stacy and not Mary Jane Watson.

But I got over it. I was satisfied with the first 2 Spider-man films with Tobey and Kirsten. I didn't particularly like Kirsten Dunst being cast as the red-headed dream girl, but I accepted the iconic 'soaked in the rain upside down kiss in the alley'. It's been parodied enough times in pop culture to be considered an iconic scene, which, despite the obvious chemistry of Garfield and Stone, who we all know are real life main squeezes, never happens. Garfield and Stone don't have a single iconic scene like this; their relationship is full of angst, big eyes, staring, and emphatic declarations of independence (I break up with you Peter Parker).

One critic made the argument that the new franchise is losing its emotional core without Garfield and Stone together in the future. I strongly disagree. The scenes between the two star-crossed lovers in this film are more Twilight than Marvel. It's often prophetic, like Gwen Stacy's absolutely horrible graduation speech, which features the kind of statement about life that sound absurd coming from a teenager. Not to mention all the cute moments having ice cream which nobody came to the theater to see. The film builds up to Gwen Stacy's eventual demise in such a way that the emotional impact is not so much 'WHY?' as 'Oh, they actually did it.'

Then there's the new Peter Parker, very clearly a teenager, very clearly full of angst, who is about to put on his headphones, fall on the bed and have a timeout to emotional pop music. The old Peter Parker is clean-cut, geeky, nerdy, and a bit of a boy scout. It's only when he dons the mask that he becomes a smart ass full of quips and attitude. The distinction between Parker/Spider-man for Garfield is not that clearcut, although, he still is a pretty good kid. But would Tobey's Peter Parker dip the valedictorian at graduation? Nope.

And that's another fundamental problem I see with the new Amazing Spider-man. Garfield spends a lot less time being Spider-man in these films than he does being Peter Parker. There's more in this franchise about who he is, who his parents are, what Peter experiences, what his relationships are like. But it's the essential dual identity problem; we don't want to spend more time with one character than the other. We all want to see Superman films, but who wants to see the film about Clark Kent? NOBODY.

The new Amazing Spider-man films are better movies overall; they have good pacing, great effects, nice montages, solid acting, decent writing. They try to expand on background stories, with the many flashbacks to the Parker family tragedy and Peter's leftover emotions. The film attempts to tap into the complex feelings of abandonment, treason, ethics, and the constant theme of protection, and it's partly successful. It's a much more serious look at the underlying issues that intrigue all nerds at heart and part of the reason why nerds take comic books personally.

They don't resort to the sort of kitchiness that most comic book franchises use. That said, the kitchiness is a big part of what works; the Tobey series embraced the comic book franchise, stayed true to the dorkiness of Peter Parker, and had a little fun with their villains. Until the third film, which was admitedly a disaster, they didn't try to make Peter Parker cool. The new Amazing Spider-man films are better movies, but they aren't better Spider-mans.

I think the new franchise suffers from its attempts at pathos and complexity; this film wasn't as fun as the others. Who doesn't love the scenes where Spidey saves a bunch of people on a passenger train or when Doc Ock is wreaking havoc and poor aunt May gets caught up on a trip to the bank? I also think the timing of the franchise was poor; many people are beginning to tire of superhero films and the first 2 Tobey films were successful, so there wasn't a need for audiences to experience something new and redeeming. The first two were charming and fresh; the new series is dragged down by the dark side of Peter Parker's past, the tragedy of Gwen, underdeveloped villains and generic action scenes padded with emotional teenage exchanges.

But I am a true nerd, which means that I did pay to see this movie in UltraVX and I probably will watch it when it's on tv one day. I will also re-watch the old series and make comparisons and get angry and try to educate the unitiated and because I liked it less, I will only watch it 3 times and only buy the blu-ray combo pack because it was cheaper at Wal-Mart than the traditional DVD format. And I won't get the collector's pack with the Jumbo mug- oh hell, I'm a nerd, of course I'll get the collector's pack with the jumbo collectible mug, I still have the popcorn bucket from the original Tobey franchise and now my mom uses it for clothespins.

And as for the Amazing Spider-man 3 and 4, I say: dial it back. Don't try to be so smart. We like it when Spidey saves people, not when Peter Parker has a bad day.

Say it Aint So George

The world's most famous playboy bachelor is getting married. Yes, the 'M' word. George Clooney, the best single person on the planet by universal consensus, will soon be off the market and what are we single losers going to do now?

It used to be that when people pestered me about my single status, I could say that I was single and awesome like Clooney. How could anyone argue with that? The Carey Grant man's man, whimsical, handsome, well-dressed, polished, hilarious, handsome movie star who makes salt and pepper look as delicious as they do on the dinner table at a 4-star restaurant? Clooney, the one who inspires us to be cool, have lots of guy friends, play pranks on them, invite them over for basketball games when their wives give them permission, and pick up cocktail waitresses in Vegas- BECAUSE HE CAN.

When judgemental family members and smug married people told us that we were 'missing out' or that there must be something socially dysfunctional about us, we could look back at them and say 'Clooney', as if the name was a passport to some utopic secret night club where everything shines champagne bubbles.

But now, we've gone back to being basement nerds and crazy cat aunts. Now, we can all aspire to be like Kuthra- you know, the Indian guy on Big Bang Theory, the lonely, slightly alcoholic metrosexual astrophysicist with a dog small enough to fit in his man purse.

A Google search reveals that the second most eligible bachelor right now is Prince Harry, who is often used to being in line for something. Even HE might be getting hitched soon, leaving us all with a loveable minority character or Captain Sweatpants for help.

Thanks a lot for nothing, George. You were our last hope, a way to redeem ourselves, if not to others, at least to ourselves.

Now I can say 'I'm single and awesome like Prince Harry, heir to the heir to the throne of England.'

Or, 'I'm single and awesome like Prince Harry, you know, Will's brother.'

Which is still better than saying I'm a leftover, like the Chinese government is currently telling its young women. You have to give China high points for clarity. Subtle social pressure was not getting the job done well enough, so instead of espousing values or gently prodding peoples' most vulnerable feelings with tear-inducing Hallmark ads, they've gone right for the throat and become the collective tiger mom of their female population.

I might have just found my new tagline: 'I'm single and awesome and I will stay this way just to piss off the Chinese. Because I love leftovers.'

Dad-conomics

I've entered that phase of my adult life where I begin to view economics the way that my dad did. I call it dad-conomics. It's that point of your life where you stop thinking about what things cost today and focus more on what they used to cost; you know, the whole bit about how you used to be able to fill your car trunk with groceries for $17 and a movie was $2.50 'back in my day.' The standard of living changes, wages change, economies change, but no matter what, you're stuck in this strange prism of the way things were, rather than the way things are.

It's partly because money just doesn't make any sense anymore. How is it that salaries seem so large in comparison with our grandparents, yet we can't afford two cars and a two-storey house? Grandpa and grandma were pretty resilient and they didn't know what a latte was, but they could at least afford a 'decent' roof over their heads. But now that same house and two cars cost a million dollars, and how in the world did we come up with that?

The 'standards' have apparently changed. Everyone now wants a move-in ready, pre-fab home with granite countertops and stainless steel appliances. Hold on, now, who set these standards? Oh right, a bunch of rich people and marketing companies and our style overlords over at HGTV. The Kardashians. The people who sell high end paint. Social media. Construction companies.

There was a time when people used to build homes to last and they actually looked different from all the other homes in the neighbourhood. There was a time when people moved into their homes and slowly painted, renovated, added furniture piece by piece and upgraded over the course of their lives. But now everything has to be the same and immediately available and to standard, the end product being overpriced, bland and conformist. Hardly a home that you want to be proud of and grow in and spend the next 25 years of your life paying off.

But this is what income inequality ultimately looks like. The 1% of the population sets the impossible standards, the wage slaves try to keep up. The costs of homes is driven up, the desire for profits for the top tier increase and all of a sudden, a home of one's own becomes an impossible dream without two solid salaries (and maybe some help from the parents).

And never mind just the home; there needs to be coordinated furniture, accents, flat screen tvs and who doesn't have HD or high speed internet? Drip coffee? Puh-lease. Not when gorgeous actresses purr at you in commercials over cups of Italian espresso made from steamy machines.

Part of the problem, clearly, are our appetites, which is being manipulated by all streams of our media. Most reality shows or competitions are basically advertisements, heavily endorsed by the companies that manufacture food, music, home or beauty products- setting our standards and whetting our appetites for the things that they want us to buy. The endless cycle of consumerism is hard to break when everyone is selling you the best version of something.

But trying to keep up is taking our attention away from two important things: (1) we're falling desperately behind and (2) it shouldn't be this hard.

If we keep getting distracted by shiny objects dangling in front of us, we're never breaking out of the cycle. There is no good reason for highly educated, hard working professionals, often dual income households, to be struggling financially. You can blame the lattes, but what is that when compared to the staggering student debts most people rack up when trying to become professionals in the first place? What is that compared to the half a million dollar family home?

Whenever I look at house prices, it's like playing Monopoly. The dollar amounts don't even seem real. Park Place is great if you buy it the first time around the board, but it really sucks when you land on it and a few houses have been built. Is it just me, or does the entire real estate market look like a big, confusing, long game of Monopoly when you just want to go to bed because you've been playing for 6 hours with your siblings and nobody's winning???

No wonder dad used to frown so much.

Edit

Sources of news and information on the internet always want to provide you with a more tailored, personal experience. But wouldn't it be great if we could find a way to seriously edit the information that we see? To not be constantly exposed to content that bores or offends us?

I'm not saying that information restriction is the way to go. I'm saying that the power of deciding what we WANT to see should be ours. Everytime I look at a site like Yahoo, I always think to myself, sure, it's great that they want to give me diverse information, but it's not exactly organized the way that I would like it to be. The tendency to include celebrity news on par with what I would consider 'news' news often leaves me feeling frustrated. And since we live in a politically correct sphere where everything is tailored to things that we 'like', there are frustratingly few options to filter out the things that we hate.

I would love to one day see a function where I could list the things that I can't stand and have that work as the filter on the information that I see. You know what, Yahoo? I don't give a shit about Kimye's Wedding. I don't want to see a celebrity's new haircut. That study that says that running is bad for you and will kill you prematurely showing up the day before the running is good for you and will help you live forever posting is just plain confusing.

I want to put my preferences in: Please show me studies that prove that running is excellent, chocolate, coffee and wine are all good for your heart and shopping is the key to happiness. Stop raining on my parade, information website! And stop updating me on celebrities that I couldn't care less about- unless, perchance, there's one that has had a particularly awful day.

Can't you just imagine it? Putting in your settings and never having to see another Rob Ford article? Bieber- who's this Bieber you speak of? And did you know that a group of researchers in Illinois have discovered that bacon is actually good for you in moderation? How about that?

Think of the happier, more streamlined existence that you would have then. Think of how much less garbage and mind junk that would filter through your head at night. You probably could have lived without seeing someone's red carpet minidress. You probably could have done without that video of a cat who rolls toilet paper. I want to see more of what I like, but I also want to experience a lot less of what I hate.

What I wouldn't do for an edit feature of that type.

Cheers to History!

A 5th grade teacher from Michigan may have brewed up some trouble unintentionally after letting her class sample non-alcoholic beer. Apparently, the teacher's intention was to teach her students what people traditionally drank in the 1700s, since beer at the time was cleaner than most water.

This is very true. Any historian will tell you that modern water out of a tap is a miracle that many people in the 1700s could only dream of. You know what any historian will also tell you? History is filthy.

The teacher in question probably had good intentions, you know, in the spirit of 'bringing history alive!' and all sorts of other enthusiastic teacherly notions. But the problem with historical accuracy is not that our society is seriously lacking in it, but the fact that you can't, and probably don't want to, duplicate history.

The 1700s was not a hygienic or safe time. Anyone with visions of 'bringing history alive!' for their students today could bring up some pretty unpleasant experiences. Like oral hygiene from the 1700s, fashion, transportation; ah, the joys and memories of underqualified so-called professionals yanking sore teeth with a pincer also used for removing coals from a hot stove, corsets that broke ribs, horses that traced a path of poop everywhere they trod. History is important, but a lot of us are happy that it's the past.

That said, beer has a rich history and has been a part of human civilization for millenia, tracing its origins back to the early Sumerians. Humans have been ingesting beer and wine for longer than any of the highly sugared processed drinks that are currently on the market; a good reason to skip soda altogether and enjoy a drink or two (unless you're the designated driver, another victory of modern invention).

A note to this Michigan school; your principal might want to have another talk with the teacher in question when it's time to study Russia. Sure, those potatoes you're bringing to class seem harmless enough, until it's time to bring history alive! once more.

The Missed Opportunity of Valentine's Day

It's Valentine's Day. And when most people think of this day, they groan and moan about being single, or, if they're fortunate enough to be in a relationship, the obligations and expectations that arise out of a forced 'romantic' holiday. Valentine's Day today amounts to a large retail cash grab, an excuse to use emotional blackmail and slick marketing to convince people to spend money they don't usually have on overpriced dinners, flowers, chocolate and the evil empire that is Hallmark.

When I see Valentine's Day, I see a missed opportunity. Consider who Saint Valentine actually was and the relevance of his story. Saint Valentine was a Roman priest who defied draconic laws set out by the Roman state in times of war that couples could not marry. He's a political activist, as well as a romantic. He was martyred for protecting the fundamental right of people to love and marry freely without interference from the State. The State cannot tell you if you can marry or not; and in today's world, that argument can be expanded to WHO you can marry.

You know what I would like to see on Valentine's Day, other than Hollywood pumping out another bad formulaic movie that makes women look doe-eyed and hysterical? Other than the cheap chocolate hearts and paper trail Cupids? I would love to see advocates for marriage rights reclaim this important message and re-emphasize to the world that people are free to love. That people are free to choose. Millions of dollars are wasted on superficial trinkets and shallow expressions of love. Wouldn't it be good to see it put to better use?

I choose to see Valentine's Day as a reminder of the sacrifices people have made in the name of love and human rights. I hope that there's a time in the not-too-distance future where other people choose to do the same. Because marriage oppression is not a thing left to our distant past; for many in the world, it is still their reality and I can't think of a good reason why it should be.

A Tale of Two (Bipolar) Cities Part 5

Well, it was a new year and we were still alive. That was good news.

We visited a cleaned up Times Square for some pictures, walked around Broadway, and did a bit more shopping now that we had figured Macys out. We had a delicious sushi dinner and started to feel relaxed now as we wandered the city. The highlight of the trip for me came when we settled into a lounge bar that featured live jazz and sat down for a real New Year's toast with two tall flutes of prosecco. That's when I felt at ease and happy about the new year. I sank into a chair and we talked about the year ahead, the things we wanted, the things we hoped for, the plans that we would make. And those plans included: another trip to New York City.

Try as I might, I can't hate New York City. I feel, in a lot of ways, that I got kicked around and had some rotten luck; that I wasted a lot of time and acted like a small town simpleton and got treated as such. I still feel like a poor, dowdy, not cool enough loser, but I'm a loveable loser and I can't hate an icon. I feel like we got our butts kicked, but maybe that's the way it had to be. Maybe you really have to take the bitter with the sweet, the bad with the good. And maybe you need to know better next time.

So here are my tips for travelling to New York City:

1- Plan. New York City will overwhelm you with choices, so make a plan, reserve things in advance, and only plan one thing a day if possible. It takes time to get places, there are lines, there are crowds, and cabs don't appear as if by magic, even though there are a lot of them. Don't be overly ambitious; traffic and congestion is a way of life and things can get shut down quickly due to weather or threats.

2- Cross streets. Bring addresses with you that have cross streets. It's a big city with long streets and cabbies won't necessarily know.

3- Don't give up. If and when crap happens, or you get in a bad situation somewhere, don't give up and sit in your hotel room. Dust off, laugh about it and keep going. There are always more options and it's a 24 hour place, so it's never too late to salvage some part of your day.

4- Go with someone you love. I could not have endured the rough moments or imagined loving the best moments of this trip without my best friend at my side. So choose your travel companion wisely.

My final day was spent trapped in Laguardia airport, waiting to see if the winter storm would knock out my flight home. Thankfully, it did not. The airport has a purely functional 90s look to it and is not a great place to be trapped. There weren't a lot of diversions around, although it did have a burger bar that we were grateful for. There are few things in life that can't be fixed by a good burger and beer. The New Yorker Hotel did give us a final one finger salute as we left the city, advising us to take a $100 cab ride to the airport when there was a $13 shuttle a block away. Thankfully, we found the shuttle and missed at least one opportunity to get robbed before leaving the city. It's a small victory, but like I said, I'm a small person and I'll take it.

Will I be back? Likely, yes. Will I do a lot of things differently when I do? HELL YEAH. Do I regret this expensive, rocky, chaotic, up and down trip? Hell no. Because when people ask me what I did for New Years, I'm finally going to have a story to tell.

Or two.

A Tale of Two (Bipolar) Cities part 4

New Year's Eve in New York City. This is what we came for.

We had a plan well in advance for the big night: a dinner reservation at BLT steak and tickets for Webster Hall. As an avid fan of Hell's Kitchen and chef Gordon Ramsay, I could not wait to try BLT Steak where one of the winners was head chef. With such vocal standards, I knew that chef Ramsay's protege would not disappoint.

The food was divine. We had tuna tartare, filet mignon and asparagus on the side. All of it was perfection. The extras on the night included a wonderful pate with crackers and some thick, fluffy popovers with gruyere cheese. Being in NYC, I had to have the quintessential Cosmo pre-dinner drink and had a lovely red with my steak. Dessert was a scoop of banana ice cream and one-bite brownies dusted with powdered sugar and we both began to feel that same lovely glow that comes after a heavenly meal when we climbed into the cab to get to the club.

The night started out well. The DJ was good, people were dancing everywhere, and it was a good time. There were also a lot of men in the club and for the first time, I literally had to shoo them away with both hands. I got more male attention in one night than I did in all of 2013, so I can't say that was bad. The good news is that they were gentlemen about it- nobody got attitude about a refusal or asked me what my problem was, so people were cool. I didn't feel harassed and I was free to shake it up on the floor.

I'd heard a lot about Webster Hall and it was a pretty cool club. Multiple floors, DJs, good atmosphere. Among the highlights of the night: the midnight balloon drop, the fire breathers on stage who showed up in red lingerie and the girl on the floor dressed in bra, panties, hose, heels and a 2014 party tiara. She was saying that 'she couldn't decide'; by which, I think, she was referring to her dress choice of the night.

Then, the scary moment.

Midnight brought a huge crowd of revellers up to the floor, which was already well past capacity. The ensuing crowd got thick with people who were trying to shove their way inside. I was clinging on to my friend's hand, trying not to lose her, when the crowd crushed me in and literally moved me forward. I couldn't move at all in the hot mess of people and all sorts of scary thoughts entered my mind; I was going to get crushed; I was going to fall and get trampled; I was going to pass out from not being able to breathe. Pure panic set in and it was palpable. There were screams, it was dark and the crowd was packed so tight that I started to have trouble breathing myself.

Then, the weird moment.

While I was being crushed halfway to death, with my mental faculties shut down and re-focused entirely on the task of living through this ordeal, a guy just wrapped his arm around me, kissed me on the cheek, and wished me happy new year. He said something about how beautiful I was, something I barely registered, what with me being so concerned about living and all, and in the back of my mind, I couldn't help but be utterly shocked by this casual near-death encounter.

The whole ordeal probably lasted minutes, but when the crowd finally broke, it was around the stairwell, where security guards bellowed into loudspeakers for people to make their way down the stairs. I dashed down the stairs while the girl in front of me told me she lost her sister. I felt bad for her, but we had to keep moving, so we made our way to the ground floor and waited.

It was an agonizing wait. I could not imagine what I would do if I lost my best friend or if she had somehow gotten injured upstairs. I waited and waited, mentally willing her to come down the stairs and find me. Thankfully, she did, but after the initial relief of seeing each other in one piece, she told me that one piece really was missing: her purse. So we waited some more and she was anxious. Many purses and clutches had been lost in the crush, so a veritable boutique was piling up at the lost and found desk. Hers did show up, a little lighter for the cash that was inside. But it was there.

It might be superstition, but I really feel that if you cheat death once in the night, best not to tempt it again, so we left. Safe and whole, we soaked our feet in the bathtub at the hotel and talked about our experiences. Our night consisted of a great meal, some dancing, some male attention, a near death experience, petty theft and all in all, a pretty memorable New Year's Eve.

A Tale of Two (Bipolar) Cities part 3

Needless to say, I did not wake up the following morning, singing Sinatra.

I woke up resolved to lay down a complaint with the New Yorker Hotel and get some form of recompense for my failed night out. I showered, put on my bitch face and armed with righteous rage, made my way down to the lobby and demanded to speak to a manager.

The guest services manager was a nice enough man, who seemed genuinely perplexed by my story. He explained to me that the concierge was outsourced, and not an employee of the hotel, and that the service currently used was not going to be renewed. Basically, we had the misfortune of catching a bitter erstwhile employee on their last day of work, who decided to go out in style by offering us bad advice. I had already made up my mind that I wanted to be compensated for a night at the hotel for my lost time, but it turns out, that was going to be overly complicated. Since I had booked with an online service provider, the hotel could not directly compensate me without approval of a director one level up.

That director refused. When I confronted this director face to face to ask for an explanation, he gave me the kind of tired eyes that you would use if you spotted gum at the bottom of your shoe. He proceeded to give me a brief administrative lesson about space leasing and liability that ended in the not-my-problem category and I walked away with nothing after losing a morning to fighting with a hotel who couldn't care less if I was hit by a cab on my way out. There was some nonsense about filing a report and how the hotel could not be held accountable for anything the concierge did, no more than they could be blamed if you got food poisening at the hotel diner, since that person is not a hotel employee and I was left to seethe in the fresh New York City air, breathing dragon fire and cursing.

Trying to salvage what was left of the day after this wasn't exactly easy. I felt beaten up by New York City at this point and didn't want to do much more than get as far away from the hotel as possible. Not only did I feel like a nobody, I felt like a stupid nobody; a fool who got taken in and robbed blind. I felt like Homer Simpson vs New York City. I'm not sure what crab juice tastes like, but this definitely left a pretty bad taste in my mouth.

We spent the rest of the day walking around, found Rockefeller Place and a store clerk who didn't hate us directed us to the Waldorf-Astoria, where we were amazed by its beauty and not for the last time, cursed the concierge and the hotel 'services' outloud.

It was New Year's Eve and we didn't have time to stay mad or sulk at home. It was time to dust ourselves off, put on dresses, heels and our game faces, and go out for the biggest night of the year and finally say goodbye to a challenging 2013- in style.

A Tale of Two (Bipolar) Cities Part 2

I can only describe day 2 in New York City as a Key and Peele skit.

Have you seen the comedy duo of Key and Peele? Have you seen the skit where they dress up as high-pitched, flighty girls in wigs and heels and walk around saying things like 'uh-uh' with a fling of their heads? I can only describe us as those girls on that fateful, disastrous day.

Waking up in starry-eyed surprise at the fact that we were in NEW YORK CITAY! made us both giddy and excited. So when we left the hotel, we were resolved not to waste a single moment and began talking about all the things that we could do. But the problem with that, in a city that size, is that we could have spent the day talking about it until we were blue in the face and still miss things on the list. So we settled for the girliest thing we could do: we went shopping.

Well, we tried. The constant stop and go of the day was dictated by the overwhelming amount of choice and crowds everywhere. We failed to understand that Macys has two sets of buildings that cross over, and depending on which entrance you come in, different things will be on different floors. Bebe was lined up for days for change rooms and tiny girls waited an hour to try on less than a yard of fabric. Victoria Secret was so large and full that I could no longer see products and huge high def TVs were playing the VS fashion show and their famous multi million dollar bra with crystals. As if I didn't feel inadequate enough with images of glamazons strutting around in inescapably larger than life resolution. I walked away dazed, with no purchase, wanting ice cream.

We spent the day exhausting ourselves running to and from shops and waiting in lines for service. Finally, we decided to dress up for our big night out. We planned to make our way to Rockefeller so that we could see the tree and the skating rink, find the Michael Kors flagship store, head to the Waldorf-Astoria for a drink in their lounge bar and then find a sushi restaurant for dinner. More and more plans were added, as we talked about bars and lounges and other after after places we could go- the way we figured it, the city didn't sleep, why should we?

Then the comedy of critical errors began.

We began by confirming our plans with the hotel concierge at the New Yorker Hotel. The lady at the desk airily informed us that the only hotel bar that was worthwhile was the Oak Room in the Plaza, where 'everyone' went. Of course, I've heard of the Plaza, who hasn't, and with that information in our minds, we changed gears. We promptly got caught in traffic, dropped off way before our stop, got lost, got cold dressed in heels and short dresses like Key and Peele's flighty girls, and got picked up by an unscrupulous, fast-talking rickshaw who proceeded to take us for a ride- a very expensive, pointless ride. Because as it turns out, the Oak Room has been closed for 3 years and the Plaza, due to security concerns, only allows hotel guests with a room key to drink in their bar. All things that would have been helpful to know, like the fact that the rickshaw we took was a crook.

In retrospect, of course, it's easy to say that we should have known better or that we should have verified the information ahead of time or never taken a rickshaw. But we did what a lot of people do in situations like this: we trusted the wrong people. I've gotten advice before from hotel concierges; in fact, I've received excellent service from them in the past in various Fairmont hotels I've stayed at over the years. Why not trust the concierge in New York City? My best friend had previously taken a rickshaw in the past in New York City- how were we to know that this one was crooked? And sure, we could have made a scene or tried to flag down a cop or report the crook- but how could we know that they would take our side or even assist us? Let the buyer beware, after all.

With heavy hearts and significantly lighter pocketbooks, we cabbed back to the hotel, got dressed up like normal people and went to the Irish Pub around the corner for some pints and food. It was a night of excitement and hope that ended in the most banal matter possible and very far from the glitzy image in our minds of our night on the town. It felt like being punched in the gut on the happiest day. I suppose the positive of this is that I learned some very important lessons about the big bad city and the whole thing about trust.

I got a big bite of the Big Apple that night- but the part I got was bruised.

A Tale of Two (Bipolar) Cities part 1

When my best friend asked me to go to New York City for New Year's Eve, it was mid-December and I was staring at the prospect of a quiet night at home alone. So naturally, I said yes and thought to myself, what could be cooler than spending New Years in the world's best city on the biggest night of the year?

What indeed.

I honestly don't know what to respond when people ask me about my trip. The default word is crazy. New York City is a lot of things and describing my experience is hard to sum up in just one word, so the default has been: crazy.

It was also fun, hectic, frustrating, overwhelming, posh, too posh, amazing, scary, indifferent, difficult, excessive, polite, rude, gorgeous, iconic, crowded, quirky, flamboyant and bitchy.

Whew.

It was 2 very long travel days, 1 disaster of a day, New Year's Eve, and 1 sane day that was relaxed and cool- just the way that I had hoped my entire trip would be.

This is the main problem with New York City; it's a movie reel to me. All that I know about it is pretty much derived from film strips and montages. New York City is full of iconic sites featured in plenty of films, but it's such a big part of that world that the city itself is an icon. It has gorgeous architecture and old school Americana that can't be replicated anywhere else, a slice of decadence and new world promise. It's the big bad city, the American dream, the unique, the original. But because it's a movie to me, it all looks so simple and seamless. And it's not.

Making sense of the Manhattan layout is nowhere near as simple as its land mass suggests; it looks manageable enough on a map, but the map doesn't include crowds, shops or moving vehicles, all of which are very present in reality. While I diligently took note of addresses, I didn't realize the importance of cross streets. A cab driver helpfully reminded me of that fact on night one.

Getting into the city itself is its own little trip. I flew into Newark and took the shuttle into town, the one that leaves every 15 minutes, a generous estimate at best. But it was peak season and the way in was pretty cheap at $16 US a person. Despite all the things that I heard about New Jersey, the Newark airport was fairly large and modern-Laguardia, on the other hand, was small and drab by comparison. More on that later.

We began our New York adventure getting lost in the rain on the way to the hotel. Getting lost was completely my fault, as I should have verified the directions beforehand, but at the very least, the pouring rain encouraged me to find my way faster. We passed the dazzling lights of Broadway, inviting us to frolicking musicals and an angry shouting match between a hot dog vendor and some errant customers. Talk about the whole New York experience right there.

But night one was entirely redeemed by Uncle Jack's Steakhouse in Midtown where we had dinner. I had seen the restaurant's owner featured on the Food Network's Restaurant Stakeout, a guilty pleasure show that I cannot resist, which is entirely focused on customer service in the restaurant industry. Customer is King is written above the bar of this classic steakhouse where the waiters wear vests, coats and white gloves. The atmosphere is not pretentious in the least and we were seated next to some casual looking diners. The service was well-intentioned, but slightly confused, as three separate people took our water order. Once the water arrived, service was definitely smoother.

Catching up on the news with my best friend whom I hadn't seen in months over a bottle of Amarone, a shared lobster avocado salad and a porterhouse steak for two, definitely counts as one of the magic moments of my trip. The lobster avocado salad alone made the trip worthwhile and I have put this dish on my list of things that I must taste again before I depart planet earth. The porterhouse is one of those things that I'm ashamed to admit that I've only ever heard about in movies and was the first one that I've ever tasted in my life. With no room at all for dessert, I opted for coffee and sat, blissfully full. I was sincerely happy to have made it to this city of my dreams and very optimistic about the rest of my trip. I had every good reason to feel that way; especially since I didn't know what was coming next.

Why Benefits Matter

When you listen to the Conservative's government hate campaign against the Canadian public service, who want to cut out benefits and sick days, undermine the ability of workers to refuse potentially dangerous or hazardous work, think of this:

Hate and dissent is like butter. It's very easy to spread and once it does spread, it's really hard to un-spread. It's a lot easier to spread the misery to the masses, feed them the image of fat, bloated, lazy civil servants, than it is for the government to attack your neighbours, the real people who work in the public service. The hardworking, tax-paying families who go out for a beer on Thursday are the real people who work in the public service, just people trying to make a living and do a little better than the rest. But instead of thinking of it that way, it's just easier to paint them all with the same lazy brush- as if sick days were a luxury and refusing dangerous work was a sign of 'lack of initiative'.

This hate-mongering is a tool used by the elites. Anyone who knows anything about history knows this for a fact. The top 1% always manages to keep more of their wealth by not sharing with the masses, seeding discord amongst them and letting them fight each other for the scraps like snarling dogs under the dinner table. As long as we fight each other under the table, we're never going to be the people who sit at it.

The thing that elites fear the most is seeing the underpriviledged gather together and fight for a greater or equal share of the wealth.

They know this, so their hate campaign is relentless. Where is all this hate going to lead? The Dark Ages. The more it spreads, the more it affects all other sectors of employment. Stripping workers of their rights at the highest level of the mid-income people is going to lead to a situation where there are going to be less and less for the lower level people as well. The only people who will benefit are the people who already benefit the most and they will steamroll everyone else as long as they can. There is no limit to how deep in the mud they will push our faces in with their boots.

Benefits are hard won and they need to be protected for the sake of all workers. We should be working harder to keep benefits and to spread them around to others. Because we all know that there's more than enough misery to go around.

Racist Man Looking for Love

Sleepless in Austin might be a lifelong insomniac after a controversial offer of $1500 to anyone who can find him a thin, chaste, white girlfriend. You'd think that wouldn't be a very tall order, but Romeo Rose, who claims that this is his real name, has some outspoken views on race and interracial relationships. To add to his charm, he also doesn't like 'slutty' girls or 'fat' girls.

Now this is a man who knows what he wants.

Thin, chaste, white- it would probably also be safe to assume that the successful candidate will be a Christian, right winger, domestically-minded and probably hot. Unfortunately, the profile that Romeo Rose provided is centered mostly on exclusions, ie, the things that he hates and doesn't highlight any of the things that he loves, which actually makes sense when you consider that hate is probably a big part of this man's life. Wouldn't it be natural that he would scour the world looking for someone who hates everything he hates too? Isn't that part of what makes compatibility?

Somewhere out there, on this planet of 6 billion people, there must be at least one lonely single white female who's looking for a man that shares her views of a segregated, white supremacist world. The kind who can keep their whites the whitest for their KKK meetings, who separates the white bread from the brown bread when it's time to make bologna sandwiches for lunch. The kind who loves being white and loves being in love. The kind who wants to build a home on the foundation of their natural-born superiority and nestle together in a little hate nest somewhere.

Never fear Sleepless; even Hitler found love after vetting his dates by running their hair through fire to make sure they were truly Aryan. And what could be more romantic than a geneological quiz on your racial purity on a first date? Or a deep, embarassing look into your sexual history to ensure that all your past hook ups were lily white? Or better yet, a weigh in for pure white candidates who don't live up to the distinction of 'thin'. After all, white girls can diet, even if they can't change their pigmentation. Unless they get jaundice from a carrot juice fast that they submit to in order to please him, at which point, they may be too Asian.

A matchmaker once said that everyone deserves love. But in the meantime, it looks like hate is going to have to keep this man warm.

A few thoughts on Quebec Separation

Without knowing it, I became political pretty early on in my life. I grew up in an English minority Quebec town during the last Quebec Referendum, and I remember well how the topic of Quebec sovereignty dominated classrooms, grocery check out lines and dinner tables. I remember my half Irish cousins demanding to be served in both official languages even when in small Quebec towns and the amount of public servants talking about having to take 'stupid French lessons' to advance in their career. The political was very personal.

'Separation' to me always brought forth ridiculous images of toll booths on the inter provincial bridges, something tangible and silly since Ontario, that other province, was within a stone's throw. Border crossing was something my parents did every day, usually on the way to work. The thought of this becoming a passport check was always strange, and even without understanding the full implications of government at the time, I knew that this was a problem.

Government for me at that age was a chart composed of boxes representing various levels- the Parliament, the Senate, the provinces, etc. But then came the awareness that government affects pretty much everything you do: where you work, what you eat, what you drive, your health and welfare, your daily choices. I've heard those people who say 'politics don't affect me' or 'politics don't interest me' and you're wrong on both counts; everything is political, everything affects you and everything SHOULD interest you. Unless you're a mindless slug, it all matters.

That point was driven home by the Referendum. My father told me his story of immigrating to Canada through Quebec City, and how he remembers mounting all of those stairs to get into the province to start his new life in Canada. It's a poignant image of the dedication and sheer work that it takes to make a new beginning and he has never looked back since. The thought of seeing his Canada disappear through a crucial vote upset him.

My parents weren't the only people upset by this vision. Businesses left Quebec in droves, as did other immigrants and anglophones who imagined a troubled province, should the vote go through. Does anyone remember how the house prices crashed during the Referendum? Does anyone remember the mass exodus of businesses, most of whom simply shipped to Toronto? Does anyone outside of Montreal remember this?

If the current situation in Quebec veers back in the direction of the Referendum of the 1990s, they can count on a lot of those things happening again. Unrest, departures and economic crash are just a couple of the concerns they should have. Beyond that, they should also consider the very real and dangerous implications of the proposed Quebec Values Charter. It's a slippery slope when you begin to protect culture through discrimination. Today it's religious symbols, but what will it be tomorrow? What else will be perceived as 'ostentatious' or a threat to Quebecois culture? Who else is going to be a problem group?

Quebec is taking a lot of its cues from France, a country not known for its diversity or tolerance. A lot of France's cultural protectionists are now setting their eyes on China and similar Asian countries that are seen to be 'taking over' the global economy. Will Quebec take a page from that song book as well, and start denouncing Asian symbols? True, most Asians don't run around with 'ostentatious' marks of their 'Asianness' on them, but will people be offended by Asian writing characters on t-shirts, silk dresses, chopsticks in the hair, Hello Kitty bags?

What about 'black' culture? Will the next roll out of ostentatiousness include dreads? A young straight A student in the USA has already been sent home for violating the school dress code by wearing dreads. It may not be threatening, but it does seem inherently not Quebecois purelaine. The line is pretty hard to tell between protecting and promoting the culture, and outright surpressing and eliminating the other.

What frightens me most about the possible aftermath of a separatist Quebec the way it stands now is that an insular Quebec will one day actively root out all the un-Quebec things within it. Its focus on maintaining its culture may come at the cost of the expulsion of others. I fear that the good people of Quebec will simply leave the province, unwilling to stay and fight, unwilling to see their tax dollars promote cultural exclusion and pursue a separatist agenda.

It may appear too early or over-reactionary to think these things, but history has shown that cultural preservation can often give way to the notion of cultural and racial purity. This is not a sign to ring all the alarm bells, but maybe a sign to ring at least one.

Many Means More

I don't understand why people think multiculturalism has failed. There are proponents of this thinking, such as Angela Merkel of Germany and more recently, Pauline Marois of Quebec. But what exactly constitutes as failure? They point to the loss of traditional cultural values and identity, as well as violent enclaves and the always fear-mongering idea of conversion, dissent and possibly takeover.

But what about all the things that multiculturalism has given us? For many Canadians, multiculturalism is a big part of the Canadian fabric. What do I love most about Canada? Multiculturalism, hockey, our ability to laugh at ourselves, humility, comedy and our universal health care system. All of these things are, to me, a part of our values, this idea that we don't have to be scared of another, that we can learn from each other and we all have rights, regardless of race, religion or gender. That's what the Canadian dream really is, not the ability to own a microwave or identify icing. Human rights. Respect. Dignity. Peace.

Wouldn't it be terrible to live in a world without diversity? Isn't part of the joy of living in Canada the ability to go down the street and hear or see something new or different? Whatever happened to embracing difference? What ever happened to curiosity and opening up our minds to another culture, recognizing that the world is diverse and that there are many different ways to see the very same things?

The most tangible example of what multiculturarism gives us: food. Delicious, diverse, exotic food. Maybe some people enjoy eating the same ham and cheese sandwich every day, but how much richer are we for the fact of having lots of restaurants? Some countries make incredible food. In one week, you can go for Italian, Chinese, Jamaican, you name it. They may not all be authentic, but everyone understands the common language of delicious.

And then there's language. Language is more than just the spoken word. It's a way of perceiving the world. Some cultures have words that others could never imagine, because they reflect ideas that are most relevant to them. What is more mind boggling than learning a new language and a new way of being? It's stimulating and exciting, not something to be feared. And it's a challenge. People with emotional maturity, perspective and intelligence see challenge as a good thing.

And what about fashion? Clothes are a big part of self expression and creativity. The world would be a dull place without colours. It's good to see people wear ironic t-shirts, silk saris, weaves and pigtails, colourful scarves. Jeans and t-shirts could be made the official clothes of the human race, but there would always be someone doing it differently, mixing it up with a red scarf or ripping the jeans. We don't need to be the same.

Even exposure to other religions is a good thing, as long as they're treated respectfully and presented with context. People should question their beliefs system, people should think about what faith means to them personally. Most people blindly follow the system that they're raised with, or in absence of that, never ask if they have a faith. The blind followers are nowhere near as devout as the educated child who questions and then chooses whether or not to believe. Your faith is only as strong as you make it, and choosing makes it stronger still.

Multiculturalism works and if it has 'failed', it's because we have failed it. If we fail to believe, to approach things from a rational and mature point of view, or come to the table with closed minds, then it's us who have failed, and not multiculturalism. Multi means many, and that means more- more problems, more work, more explanations needed, more time cultivating and adapting. We can do it. We have done it. We fail when we abandon it.

'Jobs' Works, but doesn't Satisfy

Some critics have said that the new 'Jobs' film is a more like a movie about the Apple company than it is about the man, Steve Jobs, its late founder and sometimes CEO. While this may be true, it also makes sense; Jobs and his products for Apple were so clearly a part of each other that they can't be disassociated. So the criticism is fair, but so is the rationale behind it.

For a film about innovation, 'Jobs' is surprisingly formulaic. It works mostly on montages and follows a chronological storyline that covers the early years of Jobs and Apple rising from the obscurity of his parents' garage with a ragtag gang of miscellaneous computer geeks- the pre-Big Bang Theory group. There are some truly humourous moments and Ashton Kutcher puts in a solid performance, getting the jitters, the hunched walk and the dead shark eyes when he conducts business, down pat.

The film succeeds in showing the struggles and easy charm of Jobs as he tried desperately to hold onto Apple in the early years. His ambition and disregard for all others who didn't share his vision, caused countless problems for investors and board members, who effectively ousted him from his own company. It's the part of the story that most of us forget. For many, Jobs is an unparalleled success story, the American dream, the mad genius. The film shows the truth of the matter, which is that Jobs was the charm, but Wozniak was the true genius. Wozniak slaved away on the technology that Jobs sold, lending it a mystique and a veneer that would later be perfected in his partnership with Jonathon Ive. Wozniak was the sweat and Jobs was the polish.

He's also the heart of the film. No matter how many times Ashton Kutcher is made to cry in this film, somehow, the audience never feels any closer to him. Even in his pain, he seems aloof. Josh Gad as Wozniak steals the show emotionally in this film, giving more heart in 5 minutes than the entire film does in over 2 hours. It's probably because he's so real- frank, approachable, geeky, in love with what he does, shy, uncertain, so very human. His departure speech to Jobs is heartbreakingly sincere and simple, probably a reflection of the man himself.

This is not a film that creates sympathy for Jobs, but it also doesn't allow you to know him. Perhaps it's because the veneer and mystery of Apple covers Jobs so completely, the same way that you can't see into an iphone. Or maybe it's the mad genius part; perhaps the most frustrating part about 'Jobs' is the fact that genius can be witnessed, but never truly understood.

It's a stark reminder that there are those exceptional people out there, people who write history and change the world. They change perspectives and challenge the status quo and turn things on their head. We can see it happen, but we can't come any closer to genius ourselves. The unsettled feeling that we, the audience, belongs in the 'everyone else' category, may be the unsatisfactory part about 'Jobs. Just like it's the unsatisfactory part about life.

Don't See you in September

The summer is winding down and everyone's scrambling to get one more drink on a terrasse, one more BBQ, and all the ice cream and watermelon they can handle before going back to the doldrums of work and school. One thing that isn't coming back in September is Parliament, which PM Stephen Harper will prorogue until October.

Most working stiffs are already upset that Parliament is closed for the summer, but now they're getting an extra long vacation during a year that's been plagued by expense scandals and dubious dealings. Heck, that's even longer than the kids get, which should lead to many cries of 'no fair!' across the nation.

Indeed, it's hard to think of anything about this situation that's fair. In any other enterprise which has failed to live up the public's standard, the punishment would not be more paid leave; somehow, though, it makes sense to politicos. Here's the explanation that the PM gave to the Globe and Mail:

"We will come back in October, [that] is our tentative timing.

"We remain in a very difficult, fragile and competitive global marketplace and we think there is much more to be done to secure Canada's economic potential and economic future."

Well, many Canadians could have told you THAT. But isn't that more reason to get back to work? After all, when the house is a mess and the kitchen table is overflowing with unpaid bills, this isn't usually the ideal moment to stop and make a sandwich. Waiting isn't going to help matters and sometimes, when faced with a tough task, you just have to roll up your sleeves and do some hard work. It's like when your parents tell you that math isn't going to get any easier if you avoid doing your homework- you have to FACE the problem and actually squint your little brows and try your hardest, even though it all looks like ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics to you.

The sneaky little message in this statement, though, for those who understand the implications of proroguing Parliament, is that something is doing to get done to secure Canada's economic potential and economic future. That something will likely not be done with the rest of Parliament, which includes, conveniently, all of their opposition. So the new agenda setting and reframing and all that wonderful stuff that's going to happen during this month long staycation is likely going to be the result of one party. And we're all pretty sure which party that will be.

So while the opposition will be paid to take a long spa day, the Canadian public will probably be expected to bask in the fall colours and watch leaves falling under crab apple trees and hopefully forget all that silliness with the PMO and the Senate scandals- just to name a few of the more recent maddening events. Or maybe we'll be too busy marvelling at Agents of SHIELD to think about the economy, or the Senate, or the musical chairs that have been played recently with the MPs, or the billion dollars we somehow 'lost' at the Department of National Defense, all while cutting benefits to actual war veterans. Or the fact that many Canadians live under the poverty line and use food banks on a monthly basis, even while employed.

But in October, this Parliament will be back to work, fresh-faced and repackaged, probably with more Economic Action Plan ads featuring minorities looking forward to their job in construction. For a month's worth of extra vacation, I expect those workers to look at least 25% happier about that in October.

This current government's avoidance agenda applies the same logic to running the country as a person in serious consumer debt does when they decide to pay off their Visa with their Mastercard. An extra month is not going to be enough to scratch the surface of everything that's wrong. And don't think Canadians are going to be setting up hockey pools and knitting scarves for winter while thinking that everything's fine. I can stay mad until October. There are still things that I'm sure I haven't forgotten or forgiven that date back years. Some of it, I've probably forgotten.

So if you're mad with the Canadian government, folks, stay mad. Hold your grudge, choose the issue that's really ticked you off, and keep it close. Spend the extra month making new picket signs or online petitions. The Parliament says it should be ready in October. We should be too.

Chivalry or Equality?

Some things change and some things just stay the same, stubbornly, stupidly, with no logical explanation kind of same. A recent poll indicated that women are still expecting men to pick up the tab when they date, almost 50% of respondents, with a whopping 44% who claim that they would not go on a second date if they had to pay their own way. Men, for their part, said that they expected to pay for dates in just about the same numbers, but added a caveat to that- they want women to contribute. A comparable 40% or so stated that they would stop dating a woman if she expected them to pay all of the time.

There's nothing logical about the dating world and this is further proof. While women are making strides in being equal, (believe me honey, we are NOT there yet), some of us are still holding onto old notions passed on by grandma and these are not the helpful 'wearing oven mitts when taking pies out' kind of advice. While most of us would say that having a man pay on the date is 'nice', what it actually reveals is that we're holding on to old notions of chivalry, chilvary being the practice of being a gentleman to a lady.

But let's not forget that chivalry also means that men are being nice to us because we're women, the fairer, weaker sex that needs to be taken care of. Let's face it, most of us don't need or want to be taken care of, and others among us wouldn't want to be a financial burden on the one we love. So maybe chivalry is dead and maybe that's a good thing.

Chivalry's ugly downside is that it often leads to a power dynamic that creates expectations which are more indicative of the world's oldest profession rather than a healthy human couple. In one particularly biting and entertaining episode of the Big Bang Theory, Leonard and Penny hang out 'as friends' one night, doing things that most couples would do on a date: go to a movie, have a drink and a snack at the pub and then head home. In this 'not a date' scenario, Leonard finally gets the upper hand in the relationship, stating that all the things that he used to do, was to get Penny to sleep with him. This list includes: paying for everything, letting her choose the awful movie, and sharing his fries.

While the episode spirals down from there with cheap shots about sexual performance and attempting to pick up other people at the bar later on, the point it makes is pretty spot on. Dating, for the most part, sees couples holding Aces in badly balanced relationships: women, with the sex card and men, with the credit card.

This doesn't mean it's time to bring calculators out, since money is a romance killer (math on a first date? No second date). But maybe sharing is fair. Equality for women means our half of the privileges, so it should mean our half of the responsibilities. An easy way to avoid this? Take turns choosing where to go and the chooser pays.

And remember- cheapskates of both gender- equally unsexy.

Snakes vs Rocks

A pet snake makes about as much sense as a pet rock. Surprisingly, they stack up about the same. What do these two unusual pet choices have in common? More than you would think.

The snake: does not perform tricks, is not nice to pet.

The rock: pretty much the same.

The snake: freaks people out, makes the gerbil nervous.

The rock: makes people ask questions about you, for sure, but the gerbil seems to mind it a lot less.

The snake: unlike other pets, does not require walking or bath time with soap.

The rock: the same.

The snake: spends a lot of time seemingly still.

The rock: oh, it's got staying still down.

The snake: will definitely scare away a lot of people, including potential friends and Jehovah's witnesses who unknowingly show up to the door. Can be quite useful in such situations.

The rock: effective when wielded over head. Otherwise, not.

One important distinction between these two curious pet types: the rock will not decide in the middle of the night to escape and choke you to death. There are many things that the rock cannot do to amuse or entertain you or keep you company, but death is also on the list of things that the rock will never attempt as you sleep peacefully nearby. The same cannot be said for the wild creature that you harbour in its glass cage, biding its time.

Sure, one can make the argument that the little wolves and panthers we keep as companions could also bite and attack us. It's a sure bet that if we die in the house with no rescue, Fluffy and Mittens will probably eat us. But those domesticated creatures that we feed out of bowls on the floor are evolution's losers, the meekest of their kind who can't survive in the actual wilderness and rely on humans for survival and treats. We also know about their evolutionary weaknesses: their common foe, the vacuum cleaner and bathtime. We can control those, but there is no domesticating a snake, no more than you can teach the pet rock to fetch.

Exotic pets are dangerous and should not kept as pets in households that contain humans, particularly little humans. It is also not your right to own whatever creature you want because you think you can handle it. This is not a case of the big bad government telling you what to do. Just like you think you can drive while drunk, your right to do what you think you can do is counterbalanced by the need to protect people from what might turn out to be your gross overestimation of yourself. So you can 'handle' your liquor, so you can 'handle' your illegal pet. Doesn't mean you should.

So let's give this one over to the rocks. Those things know how to behave.

What Job Ads Should Look Like

Jobseekers have all my sympathy.

It's a tough market out there and there are so few good jobs and so many people attempting to fill them. And most of these people are the ones who tried to do everything right: go to school, get an education that's highly overpriced, learn to make a resume, get an interview suit, practice saying over and over again that your weakness is that you're a perfectionist without sounding like a teacher's pet (most of us fail). But the reality is that there are not a lot of great opportunities and that the job market is more about who you know rather than what you know.

To compound this already sore situation, all the job help articles online are centered around employers. Rather than have information that is directly relevant to employees looking for a better situation, most of the time, it's holier than thou employers and out of touch HR personnel who write the articles about 'how to get that great job', 'what not to discuss in an interview' and '10 ways you may be sabotaging your chances.'

A lot of these articles underline positivity. All would-be employees are encouraged to use 'positive language' or do 'positive spins' on negative situations that they may have encountered in past jobs to help them seem like the best fit for the job.

While we can all agree that employers would rather not hire Debbie Downer, it seems a bit ridiculous to think that honesty and skills are less important than cheerfullness. Is this survival of the cheeriest? All it brings to mind for me is that one person who wears bright colours and loudly proclaims 'HELLO!' when they walk into a room with a bag of bagels who circulates emails with life-affirming messages and pictures of kittens.

This may be the ideal employee for an employer, but it is generally the nightmare employee for other employees. Some of us just don't have it in us to be bootlickers and Happy-go-lucky silver lining chips off the old block. That doesn't make us poison in the workplace or unproductive gollums. While some people have a toxic effect on their workplace with unreasonable levels of negativity, most of us are in the middle ground of people who just want to work somewhere so that they can pay for their lives.

Wouldn't it be something if job ads were honest? They might look something like this:

Seeking candidates for a job that's already been filled by our boss' friend Bob. You are not Bob. Candidates must be available to participate in a song and dance hiring process for show so that we can prove that we followed the appropriate hiring process and are deemed competitive. Must have nowhere to be on Tuesday from 9am to noon.

Seeking bootlicking positive company man or woman who will accept all managerial decisions without question and bring a smile to the workplace. Proof of positive aura deemed an asset.

Seeking highly-motivated professional to work ungodly hours and be available on call via Blackberry. Lots of travel required. Lack of attachments deemed an asset.

Seeking incompetent middle management to make senior management look good. Assets include inconsistent behavior and nepotism. Inappropriate sense of humour and social awkwardness an asset, but not a requirement, for this job.

Seeking low level maggots to show up on time and wear deoderant. Minimum wage. Your jobs will one day be replaced by India, China or the Cashier 3000. Apply within, you're all disposable anyway.