This Will Make Your Day

Stop whatever you're doing and play this right now. Trust.:

http://nothingsgonnastopmenow.com/

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Overheard: How Do You Know You Don't Like It If You Won't Even Try It?

Overheard while walking along Danforth next to two college-aged girls:

Girl in Puffy Jacket: Ooo! When the weather warms up we should totally go to that gelato place! It's supposed to be so good.

Girl in Green Scarf: Isn't that where Sarah found a pube in her cup?

Girl in Puffy Jacket: *genuinely annoyed* Oh my GOD, you are SUCH a picky eater.

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The Only Thing Missing is a Never-ending Discovery of Miniature, Flattened Cat Bodies

From the Hoarders-inspired art series, Barbie Trashes Her Dreamhouse, by Carrie M. Becker.

My life will be complete if she creates a miniature version of a stockpiling room from Extreme Couponing.

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I Am Incredibly Immature

Should I "Daddy Disclaimer" this?

Presuming you know what tops and bottoms are when it comes to sexual lingo, maybe this little tiny snippet from the claymation classic, Santa Claus is Comin' to Town - that I ended at just the right time - will never be viewed quite the same way again. Or maybe you'll just never view me in quite the same way again. It's the risk I take.

I couldn't resist. Jr. High humour never really dies:

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An Entirely Inappropriate Homage

So long, Bil Keane. Thanks for the supremely wholesome laughs. That, and naming the dog "Barfy".

Image Source: The Other Family (a warning - it is bad. Like baaaaaaad).

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I Hope That When We're Old, Grey, And Trying To Figure Out The Jet Packs, Patrick Will Still Like My Boobs

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Brought To You By The Letter C

Because "C" is for CUTE:



My favourite reaction is around the 1:09 point in the video. Ahh!

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Things That Make Moving Fun

It's easy to get stressed out during a move, but I try to think of the little things that are nice about this process:

• The prospect of exploring a new neighbourhood and finding new favourite places to hang out, walk to, shop and eat
• Daydreaming about everything from paint colours to happy events in the new home
• Purging your junk and donating stuff you no longer need to someone who could really use it
• Realizing during packing that you're wrapping your Grandmother's tea set in shemale escort ads:

Yep, it's indeed these little things that make life sweet.

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Enjoy This Vancouver Rioter's Instant Karma

I don't usually cheer at what could be considered a great shot police brutality, but when it fits so well with the America's Funniest Home Videos formula for laughs, it really does get my approval. All that's missing is a high-pitched Bob Saget voiceover:

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This is Meta, Right?

You may recall a post I did a few weeks ago about a strange and wonderful voicemail accidentally left for me from a sorta-threatening Jamaican dude named Chad trying to reach a guy named Jeromy.

And then I recently got this postcard in my mailbox:

On the reverse:

For a split second, I was super confused. How could Chad get the wrong phone number and the wrong address? ... And then I started to get concerned. And then I remembered my sister went to Hawaii for her honeymoon. And then I remembered that I'm an idiot. And then I remembered that everyone in my family is hilarious and always willing to take a joke to the next bizarro level.

Well done, Melanie, well done.

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Lady Comedy: My Review of Bridesmaids

Yesterday afternoon, Siobhan and I went to see Bridesmaids. Her mom had graciously offered to come in and babysit The Adorable Creature Who Wakes at 5AM and Screams Half the Day so that Siobhan could take a break that involved adult things like dick jokes and beer. Well, I doubt her mom specifically thought Siobhan was in need of dick jokes and beer. Or maybe she did. We never give our mothers enough credit about these things, do we? In any case, I was the go-to-girl for her afternoon of this caliber of sophistication.

I very rarely go to the movies. I am much more of a TV person - I mean, it's *right* there and I don't have to put a bra shoes on to go see it. But when Siobhan suggested we watch Bridesmaids, I was up for it because I was somewhat intrigued about how good it would actually be.

Hype can do horrible things to a movie, and the kind of hype Bridesmaids was getting was the worst kind: A Film That Will FINALLY Prove Lady Comedy Is Actually Funny. Or my personal unfavourite: "The Hangover for Girls".

I told myself I wasn't going to wade into this dumb discussion, but here I am - not simply wading but belly flopping with my mouth wide open (its default position). So this will probably hurt and I might have to throw up after.

See, I thought The Hangover *was* for girls because I - and nearly every woman I know - found it funny and entertaining (so much so that we own the Blu-Ray). There wasn't anything in that movie that was an exclusively "guy" experience that I had to later shamefully Google ask my husband about. It was a great, tight comedy featuring one absurdity after another that happened to be delivered by a nearly all-male cast. There was nothing missing in it to fill some 'lady' need of mine.

I've also never needed any persuading that women are funny. Every article that has tackled this topic, especially lately, has gone on to talk exclusively about Tina Fey list all the great female humourists in history - but I merely need to recall the countless times that I've been in the presence of female friends and family members, gasping for air, tears streaming down my face, and urine threatening to come screaming out of my body (Truth: sometimes it made more than good on its threat. Sorry, staff - and probably-now-incinerated chair - at the Duke of York).

And this movie also supposedly "finally" shows that women can be crude? Whoever is having a revelation about ladies being lewd has not spent much quality time around chicks. My female friends are WAY more raunchy - and more creatively and originally so - than nearly any man I know. It's not because women are more genius at gross jokes, it's purely anatomical: we have one extra hole that a range of disgusting stuff comes out of and into that gives us way more material (heh) to use. And this is a generalization, but I also think that once the trust is there, women have a quicker and greater capacity to be embarrassingly honest with one another, and it's really in those reveals that the truly crude, hilarious stuff is born. I have heard shit out of women's mouths about poop, farts, sex, kids, miscarriages, violence, minorities, the impaired and Justin Bieber that would make the average man clutch his pearls.

And so for me, this was just a movie and not a statement. So with that unnecessary diatribe over, on with the review, yes?

Kristen Wiig was everything I wish she was on SNL - funny. I appreciate that in a comedy. While there are scenes where she successfully goes for the wacky (like in the parts where she's drunk on the airplane, or the very funny scene where she's trying to get a cop's attention), she's never a full-blown cartoon like she normally is on the sketch show - and that's really refreshing. She's actually a pretty fantastic actress with a lot more range than I think people give her credit for - although if you care about the quality of the hours you're spending on earth, I'd skip MacGruber. For a little while there she even made me forget that people as pretty and slender as her can't possibly have problems. Kidding. I know attractive people are just like the rest of us.  Except they're better and happier.

The tone the movie would take was tested right away in a scene near the beginning where Annie (Wiig) and Lillian (Maya Rudolph) are sitting in a restaurant discussing Annie's booty call from the night before. I felt myself tense up.

"Oh, fuck, please, no, not a Sex and the City scene," I thought to myself. Or maybe out loud. I really, really hate Sex and the City. I very well may have actually screamed that.

And thankfully, it was nothing like it. Instead of shitty, predictable puns said by people way, way, way too old to have anything new to say about blowjobs, there was giddy, relatable mocking of the male anatomy. It was very much in the way real women talk about such things except that Wiig can pull better facial expressions than most of us can.

I also really liked that a lot of actors were willing to throw themselves under the bus for a laugh: Jon Hamm's atrocious sex faces (so not Don Draper), Wiig's sweaty stance against her food poisoning, Melissa McCarthy's horrendously unflattering wardrobe, actually, Melissa McCarthy's everything (her "sandwich scene" as the credits rolled got a lot of howls mixed with dry heaves from the audience). Looking unattractive for the sake of comedy will always, always get my respect (which is maybe why I love SNL-alum Rachel Dratch so much. I don't think people realize how cute she actually is, given that she sacrifices her femininity so willingly when the part demands it. I still laugh when I think of her in a sketch as Cheb Mami - that little dude who sings with Sting in "Desert Rose". For the love of God, someone, please get that on YouTube).

There were a few disappointments in the movie. I've probably mentioned it before, but I like my comedy like I like my politicians - smarter than me. I'm therefore kind of disappointed whenever I see the gag coming or say the punchline before they do. It's why I can't fucking tolerate Jay Leno. Super formulaic set-up, predictable punchline every time. When I watch The Tonight Show, I shout out the next line as if I were watching Celebrity Jeopardy. No, Celebrity Teen Jeopardy. That's how not-smarter-than-me The Tonight Show is. Anyway, there were a couple moments in Bridesmaids where I was said to myself, "... and now she'll say xyz" or "and now xyz will happen" and it did and that made me sad. But that's probably just my hangup.

The pacing of the movie was also kind of odd and that's what truly separated it from a flick like The Hangover, far more than gender-based casting choices did. The Hangover was just bang-bang-bang-bang with the next joke or gag with no real message other than "FRIENDS ARE AWESOME!" and "CRAZY IS HILARIOUS!". In Bridesmaids, it's not all comedy. There's a depressing series of scenes (with no gimmick) relaying the sadness Annie feels when she realizes she's a loser, a sweet and silent moment where she appreciates her mom, and the awkwardness of Lillian (the bride) having to take some of the wedding-related responsibilities away from Annie. While this all made the characters and story more real, it broke up the comedic flow and felt like the story was shifting gears, sometimes to a place I wasn't in the mood to go. So if you were someone who was only looking for a pure RaunchCom, you may have left a bit disappointed. That said, this isn't The Hangover, it's a Judd Apatow / Paul Feig movie - and that makes more sense when you think about the kinds of movies they do.

The last little critique is that we didn't see enough of Ellie Kemper, who has totally won me over on The Office despite the fact I was all, "Who is this bitch? She's no Pam!" when she first showed up on the show. Yay, Ellie! Please demand more lines next time.

So, overall? I would give it a B, but it gets bumped to a B+ for having a soundtrack that includes a great cover by Nouvelle Vague and a Hole song that I played on repeat when I was in high school. And I think a B+ is worth the effort of putting on undergarments and going outside, especially if you're just going to take it as it is - a decently funny movie that just so happens to have a strong female cast. Nothing more, nothing less.

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Polite Society

Anytime I see something searingly embarrassing, I like to think about the events that lead up to it. Like, if you're a white 40-something woman from the south and "hip hop is who you are", there's a very good chance that you told your friends you were going to make a hip hop instructional video. And there's a very good chance that they had an opportunity to be honest with you about what a horrible idea it was. And when you explain your vision to the camera crew that you hire, they also have an opportunity to tell you it's the worst thing they've ever heard.

But when someone has a dream (or are paying you), we're often too polite to be honest about what will surely be a disaster, ripe for mass mocking. And this is the result of surrounding yourself with people who can't be straight with you:



Props to Tiffany for finding this video!

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Twins Are Like Dolphins

... in that they clearly have their own language that remains a mystery to us "normie" humans:





Even though I think both of these babies are boys, I'm pretty convinced that one of them said, "You go, girl!" in that second video.

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This Is Way Better Than Bill Nye the Science Guy

The next time I don't understand something sciencey, I'm going to ask a Japanese animator to explain it to me:



Also, have you donated to relief efforts yet? There's no time like the present!

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I Dare You To Watch This And Not Have "Careless Whisper" In Your Head For Days On End

Apologies to Facebook friends who already saw me freak out over this video a few days ago. Original content coming tomorrow!

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That Could Have Been Me

In late 2001, I was laid off from my first career job - a communications position at The Comedy Network. Losing a job was terribly humiliating, but the silver lining meant that I was no longer forced to watch The Mike Bullard Show for a living. The Mike Bullard Show was the kind of program that people would say "I wouldn't watch that if you paid me" and the fact that I was employed, in part, to watch it, proved once and for all that I was a liar whose standards could be bought off for the low price of $31,750 a year (before taxes).

Unfortunately, I wasn't the only person who got the post-9/11 job-heave-ho and I recall that a lot of people were out of work in my field. Because opportunities were incredibly lacking, I spent the greater part of 2002 working as a temp in various offices (oh, the stories I could tell), doing part-time work for a call centre of an online casino (another story goldmine), and daydreaming about winning the lottery (I probably still have the Excel spreadsheet somewhere detailing how I would divvy the money up among family. Just kidding, I wouldn't share any of it).

During this time, I also explored a few different career paths and seriously looked into going to Teacher's College. I even started filling in the form. That is, until I got to the part of the application that suggested I acquire a few hundred volunteer hours working with children. And my reaction:

Volunteer with kids? UUUGGGHGHHHH. Fuck that.

And that's when I knew that I probably shouldn't apply to be a teacher.

But if I had gone along with it, I can 100% envision myself being the kind of professional Cameron Diaz plays in this trailer for Bad Teacher (except without the hot bod, the need for a boob job or what will surely include a Full House-esque lesson - delivered by children - about how great it actually is to be a good teacher. Pretty sure I'd still be horrible and dead inside.):

Warning - the language is awesomely colourful (see: lewd). If your workplace, spouse or child isn't down with the f-bomb, you might want to put on headphones!

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I'd Roll With This Kid

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No Offense to Betty White ...

... but this familiar face would be the best SNL host EVER, and I'm not just saying that as giant weirdo who has a childish adoration for all things Jim Henson.

The use of air quotes at the very end actually made me shriek a little. Oh, way to be awesome, Sesame Street writers.



I would totally stay up in on a Saturday night to watch this.

Support our dear Cookie Monster in his quest to host SNL! It will be the most important thing you'll do today, I'm sure.

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The 50s Housewife Gets Way More Sarcastic Than Usual

If you thought I was a navel-gazer before, check out this post! I think I can see my spine!

During this round of the 50s housewife experiment, my blog was picked up by a feed or two and the experiments (both the original and the latest one) were mentioned on a few websites, some with much larger audiences than mine ... like here and here and here and here and here and here. Please – take a look! The rest of this post makes much more sense with that bit of context.

Getting the increased traffic was both exciting and terrifying. Knowing more eyeballs were watching added some pressure to "perform" – but that wasn’t what made my stomach feel achy – it was the Ring of Plenty all the unfiltered opinions, many none too complimentary, about me, Patrick and this very goofy "experiment."

If you’re going to share parts of yourself online, you have to expect criticism. I completely do. If I get to enjoy the nice things people say (and there have been some very nice things – thank you!!!), I have to expect some not-so-nice things will be said as well. It’s sometimes easier said than done, but both Patrick and I have pretty thick skins, a sense of humour about ourselves and a certain amount of openness to actually consider the validity behind the critiques. In fact, some of the comments were actually quite witty, and I love wit regardless of which side of the argument it falls.

The bulk of the conversations that I linked to above happened over a week ago, which means for most people, those threads are about as buried and forgotten as sweet Mark Linn-Baker’s career (I’ll save you the effort of clicking and / or Googling: He was Cousin Larry in Perfect Strangers).

But even though I realize that no one cares anymore, I’d like to clarify a few points brought up in some of the comments on those websites. After all, a *slobber ... drool* publisher could one day stumble onto this, and I’d hate to miss out on the opportunity to frankly explain what this book-worthy blog is all about and who this Jen But Never Jenn person really is.

A smart and classy woman would take the high road and continue along as if unaware of anything that's been said of her; a post like this is probably a bad idea. But it should come as no surprise to regular readers: I am not a smart and classy woman. So here’s the deal:

• When I’m not being a publicity-seeking attention whore, I like to keep my husband, Patrick, in a small but comfortable cage in the den. I’ve decorated it with masculine tastes in mind – a brown, corduroy beanbag chair, a few jaunty denim throw pillows, and a neon Budweiser sign to act as a night light. By storing my husband in this setting for the majority of the year, I’m able to establish a control to which I can compare my highly scientific experiment results against.
• I don’t consult with Patrick about whether I’m going to do a bizarre lifestyle project that impacts him in nearly every way nor does he get any say over the fact that I’ll be sharing it all on the friendly Internet. I’ll tell you what I tell him: It does what Jen demands of him or else it gets the hose again.
• During our “normal” life together, Patrick never gets alone time. Even when in his cage, I force my presence on him. There’s no need to be courteous of my husband’s feelings because he doesn’t *have* any. Remember, I married a Patrick, not a Patricia.
• The 50s housewife experiment brought nothing but misery to our home. We never laughed or smiled or had any sort of fun doing it. We actually had to pay actors to come by and pretend to be our friends (casting the role of "Baby Charlotte" introduced us to the world of the stage mom - now that was an education). Any references to positive feelings we had were fictionalized as to make me appear more bankable in the eyes of advertisers, publishers, Hollywood producers and Oprah.
• I fully intend to demand a divorce if Patrick doesn’t immediately start liking capers.
• Magazines, television and books from the 1950s are completely accurate reflections of what life was like then, just like magazines, television and books today completely capture modern life. Sometimes, I swear Cosmopolitan is just a reprint of my diary (especially the parts about always being on the look-out for new sex positions)!
  
• Two weeks of living by advice from the 1950s has made me an expert in what life was realistically like for every woman in that era ever. Perhaps I should have explained: Before starting my 50s housewife experiment, I went through that spinning time-space travel machine from Contact. What may have seemed like two weeks for you, was actually a lifetime for me. It's true, just ask Jodie Foster.
  
• I’ve submitted the contents of my blog to several medical and academic journals. The breakthrough research I conducted fetched such solid factual results that I think I actually have a shot at winning a Nobel Prize in a number of different science categories. The Nobel Prize in Literature is obviously in the bag.
• I see your point – taking on the tasks that 1950s housewives did is just like writing a giddy blog about being a slave or living in a concentration camp. Frankly, I'm amazed they don't sell aprons that have "Arbeit macht frei" embroidered on them. When I passed that observation along to friends whose relatives perished in horrifying ways in said camps, it was applause all around. "What a sensitive, thoughtful and rational comparison," they remarked.
  

If reading between the lines is not one of your strengths, I’ll come right out with it and provide you with the true gay agenda of this blog. Here are the Ten REAL Lessons I was hoping to get across to the masses through my 50s Housewife Experiment:

1. You should never explore subject matter that interests you in a fun or unusual way - and that goes double-true for professional writers who usually spend their day working on ad copy and manuals. That would be very, very silly and the world demands we act serious all the time about everything. Also: I should get a real job. And perhaps have some children.
   
2. I hope to convince the world that women shouldn't have a choice about how they live their lives. I yearn for and demand a return to a time when women were pressured to have one kind of career, regardless of their personal interests, aspirations or skills.
3. I want to be spanked - hard and often. The problem is, I just don't know how to tell my husband directly, so I'm hoping these round-about, public posts about JELL-O molds and radish roses will hopefully clue him in.
   
4. The 1950s was the greatest decade ever. It didn’t matter if you were a woman or black or gay or socialist or an immigrant or suffering from a mental illness – the 1950s was an era where everyone was happy, experienced equality and could eat apple pie without abandon (it had no calories back then!).
5. Feminism isn’t about choice – it’s about wearing pants – and I *hate* pants.
6. If I lived in the 1950s, I wouldn't miss very much ... well, maybe my favourite TV shows - Two and Half Men, Big Bang Theory, and Sex and the City re-runs. At least I'd have Big Bopper tunes to keep a smile on my face.
   
7. All technology is evil. iPhones, microwaves and horseless carriages will eat your soul.
   
8. If you don’t like something about a particular era, you should disregard *everything* from that time. All advice, tips and values should be considered as backward and worthless as a slam dunk contest in the WNBA.
   
9. Organ meat is highly underrated.
   
10. If a group of people were pressured into homemaking and weren’t happy with that path, it therefore means that *all* people must have hated being a homemaker. Anyone who chooses to be a housewife today is either misguided or simple, and will one day turn into a less hot version of Unhappy Betty Draper - the only difference being that they'll never even have known the joys of a Don Draper dicking.

Here endeth the lesson. I hope that clears things up.

Har. And that is what the kids call "overkill."

Now, a true lesson? Life is better when you don't take yourself so seriously. The next time someone has something negative or peculiar to say about you, pull up a picture of yourself on MS Paint and go to town creating a visual representation of yourself that matches their perception. It's good old-timey fun. Even grapefruit baskets can get in on the action!

I want to thank the people who "got" the blog as I intended it and said so here or elsewhere. It's a bit scary to wade into a sea of snark and your comments were like little buoys that lit up the page and my day. I discovered quite a few of your own fun blogs in the process (like this one and this one and this one and this one) and they are now a part of my daily spin around the web. Heart, heart, heart. NOW WE ARE SO HAPPY, WE DO THE DANCE OF JOY!

And those of you who had a totally different perspective? You're a-ok, too. Like I said, some of your comments were genuinely entertaining to read and, as I just discovered, respond to. I also thank you for taking the time to speak your mind, even if I might totally disagree with it. Opinions are fun (and plentiful!).

Just a reminder - you still have chance to enter my two draws to win vintage cookbooks. One ends on November 11th and the other ends on November 15th! Even critical comments qualify - I hold no grudges (for real, I'm pretty much a grudge-free zone)!

Also - have you supported our friend Dave in his quest to raise $ for prostate cancer? Because unlike me and the entire contents of this post, what he's doing actually matters!

Keep smiling, Internet!

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Oh, It's Funny

It's almost as enjoyable as a good old fashioned Chilean Miner rescue.

Read it:
(image from Hyperbole and a Half)

The angry, looming mom character reminds me of how I used to (almost) always portray my own poor mother when I was a 7-year old.

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