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I’ll make this quick.

Jan 162012

This is not the best video ever. I’m saving that for another day, and a longer, more involved post. But this is pretty good. Let’s get to the business.

As always, I know your instinct is to SHUT IT OFF GOD ALMIGHTY SHUT IT OFF but bear with me. I have some magic moments for you.

1, Right at the 0:00 mark. This video comes from a Scandinavian music/video show of some sort back in the day. Judging by the look I would say 1979. Judging by Europe’s ability to catch the front end of a trend, this may be 1997. I’m not sure. But what I am sure of it the majesty of that goddamn head band he is wearing. Gold, Sven. Gold.

2. The 00:13 mark. The first dancer you see – by God if that boy isn’t under some pressure. “One and one two! one and one ah ah two? Fleuvog! This dance is hard!” I would tell you that back in those days choreography isn’t what it is now. I would tell you that but Martha Graham actually existed, so I can’t. May I also say that I am heartened to see another dance troupe with outfits as shit as the ones I wore in 1978 as part of Susan’s Dance Studio in St. Eleanor’s, PEI.

Susan, I didn’t get into dance to wear a t-shirt to a recital, goddammit.

3. The 00:42 mark. The only time in history that men like that existed on earth without being burnt or hanged for, for.. everything… was the 1970s.

4. The 00:56 mark. The female lead. True story: she died of alcoholism. No joke.

5. 1:14 Three words: pulling a train. That’s all I can think. Don’t look away – they are relentless with this train.

6. 1:55 It was at this point that I could say, without a shred of doubt in my heart, that the dancer closest to the camera is also the choreographer. How do I know? Because that move, that glorious bastard move they pull there is THE move. He worked on it for weeks, alone in his studio with nothing but endless Swedish nights and some canned herring for comfort. Once perfected, there was no way he would allow another dancer to bring this move to his public. Also, if you play it back a few times, you will notice that he is the only dancer able to pull it off. The rest just seem to have serious leg injuries.

7. The Improv that begins at the 2:00 mark. They might as well be miming. And like mimes, they should not be surprised when an audience member unexpectedly lashes out with a blow to the face.

8. 2:27. Just go there. Go. That 2 second window is delicious.

9; My final note – 3:21. I can accurately date this now. 1981. They doing aerobics.

Of puffed cereal and sequins.

Haberdashery 4 Responses »

Jan 162012

The Golden Globe Awards were held last night, and like every other award show on television, it went unwatched by me. Which is not to say that I am a member of some cultural elite that feels above these things. Hardly. Mr W and I fill our big screen with TV and movies piped from the internet. We have no channels and no cable, so I miss out on lots of things. Like commercials and award shows.

But that’s not going to stop me from compiling a best and worst dressed list for your viewing pleasure. On with the arbitrary style judgements! Let’s begin.

WTF right out of the gate:

Oh my giddy aunt.

There is much to speak of here but sometimes this much is too much. I will only say that this hot mess of dress is making me hungry for my favourite organic puffed cereal.

Dear me. Let’s move on.

The only thing that could have rendered this dress worse would be if it were actually tie-dyed. The swirling is sufficient to summon up thoughts of hippies, which is never a good thing. Why? Hippies have filthy feet and that’s a fact. They don’t shower much and they think BO is a gift from nature. BO is nature’s way of reminding you that you are filthy, you goddamned hippie!

All right, calming down. Let’s see another. I call this one “Phoning It In”

It’s red, it’s fishtailed, it’s glamorous and yet…meh. You have to do something pretty unique with a dress like that for it to stand out in a sea of ball gowns. Also, more boob. Now, here’s something a bit grim.

Frida Pinto is beautiful. Really, awfully beautiful. So if a woman like that puts on a dress like this and it looks like a brightly coloured potato sack on her, the rest of us can just forget it. It’s as if a set of living room curtains time traveled from 1974 just to be part of this dress. We didn’t invent time travel to support this sort of travesty! Respect the science!

Now, have a look at this one. This dress is sending out a very specific message.

This dress says “I’m a consort. It’s my job to look lovely but not detract from the real attraction here.”

It’s cut beautifully, costs a pretty penny for sure, and fits her wonderfully, but at the same time it isn’t this:

Yowsa. This is the opposite of a consort’s dress. This is the dress of the leading lady. Ka POW. On to our next specimen.

Fantastic! Nancy Reagan hasn’t looked this good in years. Well done.

All right, wrapping this up – the last two notices go to ladies who both hail from across the pond – and who I never tire of seeing in movies or on the red carpet.

The award for “Yes. That’s right. Christ. Awesome” goes to Tilda Swinton for, just, everything.

And last but never least, a little something to aspire to:

Knocking it out of the park, lady.

This is big cat country.

Failings of Others 3 Responses »

Jan 142012

Let me get this straight. A cougar is any woman over the age of 35-ish, often unmarried but not necessarily so, who likes sex with younger men.

OK, let’s try this: a man over the age of 35-ish, often unmarried but not necessarily so, who likes sex with younger women.

Cougar is just another addition to that long litany of names for women who don’t behave as if getting hitched and making babies is all they ever think about. (Or they have had their babies, do pilates and have entered the MILF-cougar zone.) You’re not married? You fancy sex? You don’t mind if that sex is with a younger, good looking specimen? You dirty bi— no that’s not good enough. We need a special name just for you. After all, bitch gets so much airtime in so many situations. Let’s think up something specific to highlight the fact that you are a consenting adult with a normal sex drive.

It’s just so 19th century. And ladies who do this? Do us all a favour and smarten up.

Yet another hapless male in restaurant about to fall prey to the dread cougar.

Bring me your pity! And the wookie, too.

Failings of My Own. No Responses »

Jan 122012

I am currently in the midst of a bout of torticollis. I realize that half of you are now picturing me with a large turtle shell growing on my back. Ha ha yes, lovely, the colour really brings out my eyes. I’d doodle that for you, were I able to move a little more.

Torticollis is a stiff neck – in fact its other, less known, colloquial name is wryneck. I shit you not. It generally lasts for just a few days in its most painful incarnation, and requires lots of muscle relaxants and sleep. Actually, the muscle relaxants require the sleep. Lovely, lovely muscle relaxants. In the long term, exercise and less time at a computer are helpful. You see my conundrum.

Anyway, typing while lying flat on your back has its limits, so for your amusement I present to you the time that I attempted to use my stiff neck to have my mother incarcerated. When I was four.

Enjoy.

It’s just like riding a bike.

Failings of My Own. 2 Responses »

Jan 102012

It took me forever to learn how to ride a bike. Click that link and you can read about the two year crying jag that was me learning how to ride a bike. Or (and not to draw attention away from my deliciously crafted tale) you can just watch this.