A little bit of guest blogging

I haven't been blogging here as much as I would like for a few reasons.

1. I love the Olympics.

2. I have 4 sports channels.  See #1

3. As I live in the Olympic city, I am trying to go out and see as much as I can

4. I did a wee guest blog for my good friends at yoyo mama.

Check it out!

We will be back to regularly scheduled activities soon.  Thank you for your patience.

Label me this.

For four years, I went to theatre school to attain the lofty heights of a Bachelor of Fine Arts.  I graduated with honours and went on to pursue a career in Acting.  I did so for several years, attaining some success-not enough to make a living-but enough to make my resume look pretty spiffy.

In the last few years, I have let my acting career sleep due to other pursuits.  Like making enough money so that I can buy pants.  And cheese.

But since having my giant baby, I have realized the importance of doing things that make me the happiest, because a happy mommy is a good mommy.

So, in addition to pursuing writing more diligently, I am getting back on the acting horse! Its a fickle horse to be sure, but one that I have missed kicking me in the teeth every so often.

The question is, when am I allowed to call myself an actor again?

Do I subscribe to the theory that, like dressing for the job you want, not the job you have, one should say you are the thing you want to be, not the thing you are?  Or am I then getting on the slippery slope of the actor slash singer (Taylor Swift, Mariah Carey)? I cannot tell you how much it frosts my cookies when a semi-famous person decides they can act or sing just because they are famous (Paris freaking Hilton) without a second of training or experience to back them up.  Not everyone can be Justin Timberlake (sigh).

Lord knows I wouldn't want my doctor doing that.  Or my airline pilot.  Or my cheesemonger.

I suppose I feel somewhat justified in calling myself an actor, due to the years of training and audience abuse. But I do feel like a bit of a fraud as I am not making any money at it and I haven't struggled at it for a bit.  Do I wait until I get my first pay check? My first rejection?  My first nervous breakdown?

Why does it matter anyhow? Why do I worry about these things?  I have more important things to worry about, like how to get the poo out of my husband's white t-shirt (AAA!  I did it again!  POO!)

I think, for now, I will label myself as a practitioner in the creative arts.

Makes me sound a bit like a witch.

I think I like that.

It all comes down to the poo

One of the reasons I have been reticent to start blogging again is my fear of becoming one of those MOMS.  You know the type.  The woman who blogs-and if you meet her on the street, talks- incessantly about the adventures and hardships of being a mom, the trials and tribulations of parenthood and the cute things that her kids say and do. And thats it.  No current events, no pop culture, nothing but her kid.

And, of course, their poo.

Now don't get me wrong.  There are PLENTY of women out there who are moms who write, and talk,  about motherhood and their kids in a new and inspiring way.  But they also write, and talk, about other things and don't define themselves solely as a capital M Mom.  Sure, they are moms, but they are also writers, actors, businesswomen, wives, partners, creators, lawyers, entrepreneurs and generally nifty people.

Who rarely talk about poo.

I guess for me, the level of obsessive mommyness directly correlates to the amount of poo one refers to in a conversation.

And lately, I have become one of those moms.

The poo moms.

ALL I think, breathe and talk about seems to be my son.

And his poo.

How much, when, colour, frequency, size, smell and above all, staining power.

Who am I?  When did this happen?

I used to be an exciting and dynamic woman who was intelligent and witty and could converse on any subject at the drop of a hat!

Now, I catch myself talking to people I have just met about poo.

This has to stop.  My husband is starting to stare at me like I am an alien. My friends avoid me.  And my son is starting to hide his diapers.  And he is only 5.5 months old.

I guess, dear reader, what this posting is telling you is that from henceforth, I resolve to never, ever, EVER, talk about my son's poo.

Unless of course, you really want me to.  Or its really interesting.

Which reminds me of this funny thing that happened the other day after he finished his mashed bananas...

Everything old is new again

It has been almost 2 years since I last blogged. So why start again? My many changes in life (married, new giant 5 month old baby, not being at work), have made me realize that I miss my wee creative outlets. Like this one. Yes, much of what I have written in the past is no longer current or relevant, but some of it is screamingly funny and astute if I do say so myself. Perhaps I am beating a dead horse resurrecting this old thing. Perhaps I should start anew. But for now...this is it.

As I said to a very clever girlfriend yesterday, the birth of my baby has made me realize how much better things are in life if I make an effort to do things that make me truly happy. Like writing. Or eating cheese. Or tickling my son's tummy. It may mean that colossal life changes are afoot for me. What do I do with my life? How do I maximize the time with my son and my husband while still being the best me I can be? How do I do this while making money so that I can enjoy time with said son and husband and still eat? How do I do this while making ENOUGH money so that I can enjoy time with said husband and son and buy these boots?

Time will tell I suppose. For now, I guess I just continue Acting Responsible.

oh i am so clever.

Mayoral Moron

I am not an overly politically vocal individual. Yes, I have strong political leanings and I have been known to be an armchair political commentary, generally about Stephen Harper and his creepiness and general evilness. While not being a card carrying member of the NDP, I tend to lean left in my beliefs and vote to reflect that. In general my political interest stops at the federal and provincial level. Municipal politics doesn't interest me that much.

That however has been changed thanks to Vancouver's mayor and resident moron, Sam Sullivan. I have now made it my goal to ensure that he does NOT get re-elected to run the fair city I work in. I live in Burnaby. The Burnaby Mayor Derek Corrigan has a lovely mustache and is fairly innocuous. Go Derek Go!

Oh Sam....Sam Sam Sam.

I have in the past waxed poetically on Mayor Sullivan and Project Civil City. A momentary lapse in judgment due to expectorant. It will not happen again.

Before I continue to rant...let us recap our young mayor's bio:

1. Gave money to someone to buy drugs and smoke them in his van
2. Project Civil City-lord knows what he was thinking. Of COURSE being polite should be top priority.
3. Sullivan's Strike
4. $400,000.00 per year for a security guard for a CLOCK

And his most recently publicized brilliant idea...

No sirens on emergency vehicles at night.

WHAT?

This REALLY burns my cookies.

Mayor Sullivan appealed to Premier Gordon Campbell last year asking him to change the law regarding emergency vehicles and siren usage. Apparently the Mayor's sleep was being disrupted in his chic Yaletown condo. Effective January 31, 2008, emergency vehicle drivers around BC are encouraged to use their discretion when driving later at night.

Edited to note: City of Vancouver emergency vehicle drivers have chosen NOT to turn off their sirens...beautifully ironic...isn't it?

Um...dude...get a freaking grip. SO WHAT if you lose a few minutes of sleep because a fire truck, ambulance or police car are heading to or from an emergency. Just take a nap at work! No one will notice the difference

As it stands right now, Vancouver residents are HORRIBLE when it comes to getting out of the way of emergency vehicles. I am frequently stunned at the average driver's inability to get out of the way of flashing lights and sirens. And pedestrians are even worse!

Dear God in heaven Sammy...get your head OUT of your freaking butt and grab a clue! There are better things for you to be spending your time on than politeness and loud sirens! Why don't you check out the homeless in the Downtown Eastside Sammy? Or better yet...just trade spaces with them. Allow a few to shack up in your condo while you sleep under that cardboard box. Then maybe the sirens won't wake you up as much...

When the cat's away

I work in an office with a bunch of VERY hard working creative people. We have all had extremely stressful weeks, what with crazy clients, unrealistic deadlines and impossible dreams.

Today...for whatever reason...we were a bit slow. And our two biggest practical jokers were out of the office...

Here is what happened...Needless to say...I am never going on vacation...

Talk to the hand

This morning as I was crossing Burrard on my way to the office, the woman in front of me held up her hand to all cars. She didn't just casually lift her hand to say "Hey! Thanks for stopping" or even "Hey! Nice wheels!". No, she FLUNG her hand towards the cars waiting patiently for us as we crossed the road as if to say "LOOK AT MY HAND! IT IS POWERFUL AND MIGHTY, YOU ASSHOLE DRIVER!!!"

I witness this kind of behaviour frequently when navigating my car through Vancouver traffic...and I am going to be honest with you...it simply does NOT illicit the response that I think this lady is thinking it does.

It takes EVERY ounce of my restraint to NOT step on the gas and run over pedestrians that "give me the hand". Do they really think the only reason I'm not running them over is because of their hand? That I say to myself "OH! Its a hand! I guess I won't run the red light and mow down this pedestrian because of THE HAND!"?

Silly walkers. What I, and I am guessing every other driver being given "the hand" is thinking is "I really want to run you over. Desperately. Do you REALLY think I'm that dumb? Do you REALLY think you are that much better than me because you are a pedestrian? You are an idiot. I want to make you road pizza. Grrrrrrrrr."

Perhaps I have a bit of pent up rage I need to deal with...