Lazy Man Loaded

On Friday, we had friends over for a casual dinner party. I took it upon myself to do all of the grocery shopping - a chore that naturally also involved a stop at the mothership friendly neighbourhood liquor store. Even though there would only be six of us for dinner, I thought it was imperative that I fully replenish our bar before the guests arrived. So, did I buy an entirely unnecessary and dangerous quantity of booze for the evening? Let's let the picture from the next day answer that question:

So ... you're wearing a Cosby sweater?

No, that's my bruised arm.

But why are there so many threads coming out of it?

That's hair.

Barf. This blog should be called Jon but never John.

Har, har. I'm part Spanish - hair sometimes comes with the territory. You should have seen me before my mother dragged me to a waxer when I was 11. Until that point, everyday was Frida Kahlo Day.

Ew.

I know. Can I get back to the story now?

Please hurry. 

So - what you see is a badly bruised arm and wrist. Are these pictures:

• A result of a drunken spill? 
• What it looks like to be on the losing end of an inebriated fight?
• A "love stamp" that comes along with being one of Charlie Sheen's goddesses?

Nope. They're bruises from the heavy bags I was using to carry all that booze (and food, but mostly booze) home.

Heaven forbid that I not buy out the store. Or only purchase what I could reasonably Sherpa and just make a second trip for the rest. But, no, I didn't do that because the first suggestion would involve mental clarity and the second would require my lifelong nemesis, effort.

Jen = Idiot.

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Diary of a Bad Wife: Mocking the Man Cold

Patrick is home, suffering from a classic Man Cold. Not familiar with that term? Hopefully this video enlightens you:



I just heard him in our bedroom whimpering, "Ughhh, Bunbun." 

(Bunbun is our nickname for each other. Humiliating Cute, right?)

So, I go in and ask him what he needs.

Patrick: "Ugh ... nothing ..."

Jen: "Well, why did you call me in?"

Patrick: "I didn't."

I now realize when he was moaning "Bunbun", it was a self-pitying reference to himself. Good grief.

Patrick: "But now that you're here ... I could use some gingerale ...."

Jen: "Gingerale is for upset stomachs. I thought you had a cold?"

Patrick: "Ugghhh ... Bunbun."

Sheesh. He's lucky he's cute.

EDITED TO ADD:

Patrick just came by and saw the blog post.

"Why did you put a picture of me on here?!"

"I didn't. That's Nick Frost."

"Oh, oh right. Ok, then.":

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Today's Downtown Toronto Juxtaposition

I couldn't make this up if I tried ...

I was in the grocery store just a few minutes ago when a mentally disturbed man burst in and started screaming "FUCK! CUNT! FUCKING CUNT! FUCK FUCK FUCK! CUNT!"

This, while the "la la la la" chorus of this song (at about 1:12-ish) was in full swing over the store's speakers:



If I ever write a movie (hey, it's possible!), I will so find a way to include that in a scene somehow.

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Sweet Jane

As you might already know, the gorgeous Jane Russell passed away yesterday at the age of 89 ... probably from boredom of watching this year's Oscars.

I know a bit about Jane Russell that goes beyond what's on Wikipedia, in part because a) what supposed 50s housewife doesn't know something about Jane Russell? b) I've liked her Gentlemen Prefer Blondes co-star, Marilyn Monroe, for some time and c) I love to gobble up useless trivia about old Hollywood that only come in handy at times like these.

Marilyn Monroe was not a woman who had a lot of girlfriends, and her female colleagues on the set were often quite cool toward her. That is, except for Jane Russell. Jane had actually met Marilyn before she hit it big - it just so happens that Marilyn's first husband, Jim, and Jane were high school classmates. It also didn't hurt that Jane Russell was pretty secure in her own right. If she was intimidated by the bombshell on the set of Gentlemen Prefer Blondes (a title I'll always take issue with), she didn't let it show. Rather, she was quick to take Marilyn (who was actually very shy and nervous) under her wing during the filming - an act that would spark a meaningful friendship for both actresses.

Here's a clip of Jane from Gentlemen Prefer Blondes. During this song, around 3:28, you'll see her get (violently) flung into the pool. That was actually a complete accident on the set. She took it like a champ and the director quickly reworked the scene to keep the water dunk in - not only because it looked funny, but because they didn't have the time to dry Jane off and retake it all. She apparently laughed it up:



**I should also mention that this clip captures some of the gayest shit - and I mean that in the most flattering, awesome, butt-fucking way - I have seen on film. Nearly nude training outfits? Sword-suggestive Trojan paintings? Choreographed Muscle Marys? Say it with me (with a lisp): Yeth, Thir!**

I'm not particularly into Jane Russell's political stances (e.g.: she was staunchly anti-choice, in part because she had a botched "back alley abortion" at 18 that left her infertile) and as time went by, she made more and more crotchety statements of the old lady variety, but I can respect the actress and woman she was all the same.

RIP, Jane Russell.

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