Archive by Author

Gather Round, Canadian Children

10 Mar

I’m just going to warn you now; if you are a human being who did not spend their formative childhood years in Canada with access to basic cable and are not between the ages of 25-35 as you read this, what is about to happen may make little to no sense. Although if you don’t fit both of these categories and just happen to be an aging artist who enjoys watching strange children’s shows from the 1980s while on a three-day PCP binge then enjoy, friend.

For those of you who do fit this mold, I’m about to take you on a wild journey back into the depths of both your memory and heart. No matter what your family life was like, what school you went to, how you’ve grown, what soul-searching you’ve done on the banks of whatever-the-fuck country you traveled to on your parents’ dime after high school, what career you ended up going into or what heartbreak you have doled out or suffered through in life – I am telling you right now that these show are why you are you who are. Point blank period. This is also why, despite all the seemingly inherent differences that may exist between you and I, we will forever be bonded. Here we go.

Take Part!

Let’s do some crafts, bitches! I’m convinced this show turned me into an artist. The things I could do with an empty shoe box, some pipe-cleaners, a handful of glitter and some googly eyes. Gawd damn.

This show was produced by Lois and Herb Walker but also had a cast of unforgettable (although slightly creepy, in retrospect) characters. Remember crazy Mr. Twister?

Marke’s Recycle Cycle (and creepy over-sized eyes)?

There was also Pam’s Kitchen but I always used that segment as a break to go get myself a snack because umm, hello, why would I just want to sit around and watch other people eating snacks?

The Smoggies

Pioneering in terms of radical environmentalism. As a child, I had no idea what the fuck it meant to ‘measure your carbon footprint’ but I’ll tell you right now, I was not about to let NO motherfucking Smoggie pollute my ocean. This show made my 5-year-old ass want to go help clean oil off baby ducks from the Exxon Valdez and made me extremely adamant that my mother only bought cans of tuna with the “no chopped up dolphins in here” logo.

The Racoons

The most important thing about this show was the fact that instead of taking place in a magical world of seizure-inducing colours in the sky (I’m talking to you, Rainbow Brite…ole bright ass bitch) this show looked exactly like your backyard, especially if you grew up in British Columbia or Alberta. This shit was REAL.

It took place in the Evergreen Forest, which were basically the only trees you knew existed for the first 10 years of your life until your family saved up enough money to go to on a trip to San Diego and you nearly shit your pants seeing a palm tree for the first time. It felt like if you played outside long enough, you were bound to run into one of these dudes. The only thing that reminded you it wasn’t real was the aardvark millionaire, Cyril Sneer.

Really, though - an aardvark?

[Fun fact: I honestly thought he was a "weird-pig-kinda-thing" until I researched this show as an adult.]

Stickin’ Around

Just yesterday, someone in my office mentioned this show and no one could remember it until I started singing the theme song. Then our brains exploded.

Under The Umbrella Tree

This is the show I feel the least amount of people remember. So when I finally meet someone who does, it’s like looking into the mirror for the first time. I see you.

Today’s Special

This shit had me screaming “hocus pocus alimagocus” at every mannequin I saw until 1993, although the thought of a mannequin coming alive is now one of my greatest adult fears. When I moved to Toronto a few years ago, I found myself screaming it again at the top of my lungs when I was walking down Queen Street West and realized they shot the show in the store windows of what is now The Bay. Thankfully screaming at basically nothing seems to be the municipal pastime of Queen Street West.

Sharon Lois and Bram

WE ARE ALL SO HIGH

Kidstreet

I wanted to be on this show so bad until I realized that your teammate had to be a sibling. My younger brother was only one year old when the show stopped shooting new episodes so THANKS, MITCH.

Video and Arcade Top 10

Sweet graphics, bro.

And the most important lesson you could ever have possibly learned…

DON’T YOU PUT IT IN YOUR MOUTH.

Before I go pass out from overwhelming nostalgia, shout outs also to the following pillars of cultural relevance:

  • Polka Dot Door
  • The Friendly Giant
  • Fred Penner
  • Dudley the Dragon
  • Uh Oh!

Have I blown your mind? Did I miss your favourite show? Is Fred Penner your cousin’s stepdad or something? Talk to me.

S.


PGPT Celebrates International Women’s Day

8 Mar

Oh hay, girl.

First of all, I’m sorry for my absence. I’ve left K. here alone to entertain you all for some time now and I apologize. Mama is home. I’ve got a bunch of new posts sitting halfway done in our ‘drafts’ and I promise to finish them soon. In the meantime, I will send you to other places where people write much more frequently AND prolifically. It’s International Women’s Day! So I wanted to share with you some of the blogs and sites that revolve around women in some capacity and that I read on a regular basis:

Gender Across Borders: GAB is a global feminist community, blog and a global voice for gender justice. Great articles that cover a multitude of gender issues in various facets of life. PLUS, they have a book club which I am totally joining as soon as I’m done this post.

Jezebel: You should all know this already, though.

Bad Perm: Full disclosure here – I’ve been a part of this site since its inception about four months ago. But let me tell you UNBIASEDLY why it is so great and so needed. If you’re a woman who also happens to be a fan of hip-hop, then you know how prevalent misogyny still is within the genre and how difficult it is to be a true fan of the culture while not ignoring the blatant misrepresentation of your fellow female kind. Bad Perm is not a site dedicated only to women in hip-hop, it’s dedicated to hip-hop from a woman’s perspective. And therein lies the difference. The entire site is run by women; from the coding and graphic design to the writing, videography and editorial support. We’re not highlighting the achievements of one specific gender, just making sure that the stories and experiences of being a hip-hop fan are being told in both voices.

Those are just a few of my suggestions for you to check out today (and every day)… now do YOU have any suggestions for us?

Three cheers for vaginas,
S.

 

Oh, Finally.

3 Jan

IT’S LIKE YOU JUST KNOW WHAT I NEED, GROUPON

There are just so many reasons why I need this. Some of them relate to a very positive push towards dental hygiene but most of them relate to having Justin Bieber in my mouth every day.

Have I mentioned it’s almost my birthday, you guys?

S.

Resolutions for the Rest of Us.

1 Jan

Since Jillian Michaels ruined my life last year I’ve decided to set myself up for success in 2012 by actually taking the time to make resolutions that have more depth to them than: “Get less fat.” Because I’m not fat. And I’m at the point now where taking better care of my body isn’t something I should set as a repetitive New Year’s Resolution, I should just be fucking doing it. I should be making it an actual part of my lifestyle and ingraining it into every element of my behaviour and that’s a slow and steady process, not a simple change that I can wake up on the first day of a new year and suddenly adhere to perfectly. Basically what I’m saying is that my first meal of 2012 was a cheeseburger and poutine.

Here are my resolutions for 2012 (I’m chanting “If you blog it, then it’s real” in my head right now, by the way):

  • Begin volunteering in some way. Or rather, convince people that I’m well adjusted enough to have valuable skills they may want to make use of for free. I would especially love working with young girls doing writing workshops.
  • Master a dish of food, to the point where I can boast about making “the best gawd damn [exotic and/or classic dish name here] you’ve ever had in your mouth, EVER” and then actually back it up by making it.
  • I will go to Paris and/or Barcelona with my roommate.
  • I will take a class in creative writing even though they cost a majillion dollars. (Majillion. I’m making up words to emphasize my points. I doubt that’s encouraged.)

And that’s it, because those are four pretty big things and I really don’t think I’ll have time for much else. Realism. That’s what 2012 is all about. Oh, and maybe I’ll meet a really cute and nice boy who won’t be scared away by my penchant for emotional nonsense, my need for constant verbal affirmations of love, or my tiny hands.

What are YOUR resolutions?

S.

Oh Shit, It’s Christmas

24 Dec

Nothing better than routinely celebrating a major holiday of a religious denomination neither you or your family have ever subscribed to, AM I RIGHT?!

Being back home for the holidays is always a little surreal. And by “always” I mean the two years that I’ve done it so basically, drink up from my deep well of experience. It’s strange to feel out of place in a place that was really the only place you knew for your entire life. PLACES. AND FEELINGS. AND FEELINGS ABOUT PLACES. And so on. My hometown feels like someone I used to be really close with but haven’t seen in a while; we pick up where we left off for the most part, but there are more awkward silences than there used to be. There is a gap between us that we both know is only getting bigger so we compensate with empty promises to “totally hang out more often.”

I’ve learned how important it is to stop comparing my own life’s narrative to that of my peers. But it’s not easy. Without exception, every one of my girl friends are now living with a significant other. One of them even reproduced. Like…a tiny human came out of her vagina, you guys. I met it in real life. It squirmed a lot and then it shit itself, but it was really cute. Anyways. The beautiful realization that I’ve come to is that I am not in some state of stunted emotional growth. I am not falling behind in some proverbial rat race. I choose not to chain myself to these expectations or deadlines or throw myself into situations simply because I feel obligated to fulfill these roles that I may not be ready to fill yet. I am the third wheel. I am a wheel of brie for dinner. I am whatever, whenever, with whoever. And that’s okay.

So my Christmas present to you is a challenge. Think about an area of your life where you feel like you’re not living up to other people’s standards or schedule and then UM YEAH, HI – STOP IT.

Also, I got you this picture of Snoop Dogg in a Christmas sweater smoking a blunt:

Happy Festivus,
S.

Be Mine, Baby Goat

13 Nov

I mentioned this briefly to you in my last post…but I made a terrible mistake, you guys.

I Googled “baby goat.”

My entire day ended. My productivity came to a screeching halt. My eyes watered. My heart burst. And now, what started out as a harmless Internet search has spiraled into a full blown obsession.

I’ll let this multimedia collection speak for itself:

OMG JUST BEING A GOAT

WHAT'S IN THE WATER? OH JUST MY ADORABLE REFLECTION, LOLZ

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And then if just the simple sight of these God-sent creatures aren’t enough to make you want to punch your own face… WATCH HOW THEY MOVE:


I don’t even think this one is real. I think it’s a Japanese invention, designed to make you physically sick with cuteness:

 

Reasons why I need a baby goat:

  • It could make me a YouTube sensation
  • I’d take it for walks and get all the babes
  • I would be encouraging inner-city agriculture
  • Cats are so 2009

I understand that baby goats are like any other adorable baby creature (including humans); inevitably it will turn into an adult and get way less cute but equally as needy… but I also Googled “adult pygmy goat” and they’re not too bad. I would just donate it to a petting zoo or give it to a traveling caravan of gypsies. (I’ve also been Googling gypsies a lot lately.)

I promise this is the worst post you will ever read on this blog. It’s only up from here, folks.

S.

OH HAY EVERYBODY

3 Nov

I KNOW, I TOTALLY MISS YOU TOO AND I’M SORRY

I DON’T HAVE THE TIME TO WRITE YOU A PROPER POST RIGHT NOW BECAUSE I’M TOO BUSY GOOGLING BABY GOATS (I’LL FILL YOU IN LATER) SO FOR NOW… I’M JUST GOING TO LEAVE THIS HERE BECAUSE IT’S REALLY IMPORTANT:

Yashar Ali: A Message to Women From a Man: You Are Not “Crazy”

Love you all…you crazy bitches.

S.

 

A Checklist For Single Ladies

21 Oct

K. was recently celebrating her 2-year anniversary with her boyfriend who she just moved in with, while I spent the evening at home dyeing my hair with some shit I found on sale for $3.99 at the drug store. BIG THINGS POPPIN.

But the fumes it got me thinking and I realized that the only way to tell if you are truly happy being single is if you are truly happy for those who aren’t. That’s when you know you’re in the right place. If you can look at a couple, see their connection and feel their happiness. When you can appreciate the beauty in two people finding each other – even when you’re not one of those people.

But being single can also suck shit. So while those women are off finding strange hairs in the shower, gaining “I got comfortable” weight and arguing about literally fucking nothing – here’s a handy checklist of things only YOU can do, you single little minx. Use this on those cold nights when you crawl into bed with nothing but a block of cheese and your own self-doubt and remember the majestic glory that comes along with being a single woman.

The PGPT Checklist For Single Ladies

  • Watch whatever the fuck you want to watch. WHENEVER.
  • Spend the money you would have spent on a significant others’ birthday present on a present for yourself.
  • Make a bingo card of various types of people you would like to date – jazz musician, doctor, children’s book author, professional bull rider, a pastry chef (highly recommended), poet (not so recommended, but whatever… MAKE YOUR OWN MISTAKES), mediocre blogger (I’m totally free tonight) scientist, former reality TV star, etc – and then go out and find them!
  • Sleep like this:

  • Snore. Don’t give a shit when you wake up looking like a badger.
  • Share your food with…umm…yeah, WITH NO ONE.
  • Reign over the temperature of your place with an iron fist.
  • Play a drinking game by yourself. When a couple is bickering in front of you, take a drink for every time the argument completely strays from what it was originally about. Take two drinks every time you’re happy to not be involved in any way, shape, or form. Order yourself three shots of tequila the moment they awkwardly involve you like total assholes.
  • Stay out on the weekend until 4AM and instead of having to “check-in” with anyone, only check your phone to do one of three things: 1)  Drunk text someone you would like to sleep with. 2) Call a cab. 3) Order pizza.

What have I missed?

S.

There Are Times

28 Sep

There are times when, for a self-proclaimed communicator and lover of the written word, I say literally the worst combination of words that could ever be chosen. Like when someone tells me something – something that is potentially a very big deal – and I feel so many complex emotions at all once it’s like they cancel each other out so I reply with:

Cool stuff, man.

Because that happened. And I can’t take it back. It happened, and it’s out there.

There are times when I am consumed with the universal truth that everyone has nicer clothes than me. Like everyone in the world is just one big, well-thought-out outfit. Is it possible for fabric to laugh at you? Because secretly, during these times, I think it does.

There are times when I am amazed at the quality of human beings around me. Even strangers.

There are times when I wish serious, legitimate, real life, physical harm on people who storm onto an elevator before I’ve gotten off.

There are times when I want to be everybody’s hero. But then I’m all like yo dawg (I call myself “dawg” in my head, see)…chill out. Just because you tend to shove all your feelings deep down into a hidden volcano doesn’t mean you have to carry the burden of other people’s broken emotions on your shoulders. But I do, you guys. That’s how I connect with people I love. I’m like a parasite, except with way less horrific side effects. You know, without the parts that are physically harmful. I won’t make you poop out your life, is what I’m saying. But I will, however, annoyingly worm my way into your heart and intimate personal problems until one of three things happens:

  1. We bond on a deeper level than you or I ever have – or ever will – with another human being (or parasite – the jury is still out).
  2. You walk  run away.
  3. I walk run away. 

Obviously one (or more) of those thing happens far more often than the other. And by “far more often” I mean basically always.

There are times when I feel like I am mediocre at a wide number of activities and silently curse those who are extraordinary at one. Those are the people who define culture, shape history, get all the babes. But there are other times when I feel like maybe this a good thing. Maybe it’s actually the people who are “okay” or “just-above-okay” at a multitude of things that make the world go round. Maybe it’s Jack of All Trades who is truly holding this world together and not Jack of The Best Jenga Player in The World or Jack of The Most Precise Turkey Carving Abilities.  Although I would definitely invite both of those Jacks to a party.

AND….there are times when I write utterly pointless blog posts like this one. But that’s what blogs are for, right? Being devoid of points but hoping that someone out there connects to it and feels a little less….pointless.

Cool stuff, man.

S.

How to Dress “Punk” and Alienate People

8 Sep

 

What in the actual fuck.

I spent an hour today (at least) watching every single one of these videos, emailing them to everyone I could think of and then discussing at length the following points (I had a really productive day):

0:00 – 0:18 – This bitch can’t even speak properly. We’re not even 20 seconds into this video and she stumbles at least three times. Why not start again? You’ve only gone 18 seconds into filming, it’s not like you stumbled at the 2-minute mark. Just calm down and take your time, Wendi. We’ll get through this.

0:21 – Punk, naturally, is “anything that normal people wouldn’t do” and this includes wearing bright colours. No really, you guys. NO BRIGHT COLOURS. Look how serious she is when she says that:

NO. BRIGHT. COLOURS.

0:24 – “You’re not going to do plaids, unless you take it a little edgy, take it to the edgy level.” THIS IS NOT EVEN A SENTENCE, WENDI. USE YOUR WORDS.

0:35 – “Most punks…they don’t wanna look like they have a lot of money.” Ah, naturally. Because that’s where the whole idea of “punk” came from – yuppies wanting to look like they don’t have a lot of money, not from a musical genre rooted in the ideologies of personal freedom and anarchism, responsible for spreading an anti-establishment movement that changed not only the music industry but the WORLD. How silly of us.

1:39-1:45 – I’m honestly not joking you guys, I’m pretty sure she had a small stroke right here. Even the model senses something isn’t right. She doesn’t even know what to do with her hands, she’s so concerned. HELP IS ON THE WAY, WENDI. Wendi with an “i” – so punkish. You rebel.

I’m also concerned about the model in general. I think she’s being held against her will. I think she’s been drugged. She has a vacant expression and blinks at an alarmingly slow speed.

I just don't even care, you guys.

I especially love how the whole thing wraps up with an important life lesson that we can all learn from punks. Just don’t even care. Wendi clearly doesn’t give a SHIT. She probably killed that animal around her neck with her bare, manicured hands right before the camera started rolling. My new motto in life is WWWD – What Would Wendi Do. We’ll start selling the bracelets soon. (They’ll be leather AND lace. So edgy.)

S.

 

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