Mama Bear

This explains why someone in the hall at work yesterday was singing the theme song for the Berenstain Bears TV show.

I didn't know the husband had already passed away. How iconic are those books, eh? The cover art alone brings back so many memories. I remember so many of them. Kimm, you probably still have all them.

As an aside: for some reason, they've always been the the "Berenstein Bears" in my head. I don't know why.

Dear Oz,

It's Monday and that sucks. I can't do anything to make that better. This is the best I can do:

Love,
Ellie

I'm watching Contagion

I really shouldn't be. This is not the movie for a recreational hypochondriac like me. My mom called me last week to tell me she has gout in her foot, and now I think the new pain I've been feeling in my toes is gout. By this time tomorrow, I'll probably think I have whatever the Contagion contagion is.

Plaskett, Femmes, and Toddlers

I’ve been listening to Joel Plaskett’s Transit Strike song on repeat for a couple of days. The transit strike could very well end today, so if you haven’t heard it yet I recommend you listen to it before it becomes irrelevant*. The creation of this song rounds out the list of songs I know about bus drivers to three. Transit Strike, however, is probably the funkiest of the three, and is now at the top of the list. I really, really hope he plays this song live. My favourite line is “Somebody better start writing checks/Nobody wants to hang by the old Sportsplex.” My dislike of that particular transit terminal is well documented, and has only increased since a teenage boy was randomly shot in the head there on New Years Day.

Second on my list is Waiting for the Bus by The Violent Femmes. That song is awesome because it’s still relevant, despite being written in a bygone era when bus fare was only $0.65. Best part of that song is “Would you please open up the back door?”

Third on my list is Wheels on the Bus. It is also pretty relevant. I mean, drivers do still say “move on back,” and babies still cry on the bus, and until the invention of hover buses, the wheels will continue to go round and round. My favourite part of this song is the Baby On the Bus verse because when my niece was 3, she would sing it non-stop and make the cutest little “wah-wah” face and ball up her fists and pretend to cry.  

*Update: The union rejected the city's latest offer, so the strike will not be ending this weekend, like we all hoped.  

Happy Friday

http://www.explosm.net/comics/2648/

Mental Ground Zero

noun

1. The location where one visualizes oneself during the dropping of the atomic bomb; frequently, a shopping mall  (source).

When I was younger, nuclear war was probably my biggest fear. If it wasn't my biggest, it was certainly right up there with mice, and being brutally murdered in the woods at night. Like most childhood (and lasting) fears in my family, I think we can blame this one on my mom. I don't know how old I was the first time I watched the double bill of Fail Safe and Dr. Strangelove. It's likely that long before I saw those she told me stories about how the bomb drills they did at her school as a child and how she thought she would die during the missile crisis. 

Eventually my fear spawned a fascination with, and love of, apocalyptic fiction. I still picture a nuclear holocaust when people talk about the end of the world, but I no longer fear it as much. Mostly because I figure I'll die instantly and won't have to try to survive in a Road-like world. So, when I found out about the nuclear apocalypse classic Alas, Babylon, I had to read it.

He'd kick ass in a Cute-Off

I was talking to my father about their new puppy, Barkley, on Saturday. I've been encouraging my parents to take him to obedience classes, because our last dog was awesome, but not technically well-trained, and my parents are only going to get older, so a well-trained dog is important. Also, dad's main way of dealing with animals is to try and reason with them. This, as you can imagine, doesn't work. He refuses formal classes, though, insisting that he did a good job with the last two dogs and he'll do fine with this one.

 On Saturday he said "I'll tell you one thing, this dog won't get into the newspaper and the wood. He won't be allowed anywhere near the wood." Our last dog, Moby, was trained to bring in the newspaper from the end of the driveway. Once he learned that carrying the paper around gets him a treat, he was constantly dragging old papers, that my dad uses to start fires, out of the bin next to the wood stove. It was common for Moby to walk around the house dragging a sheet of newsprint along with him. He would also help himself to the kindling in the kindling box, whenever he had a hankering to destroy something. So, on Saturday, dad vowed that Barkley would not have these privileges. Cut to Wednesday, and my mom is  emailing me pictures of Barkley, looking just impossibly adorable, romping around on the kindling box. So much for that.

Second to None. Except Pi Day.

Yesterday was Pancake Tuesday. Since I am apparently in a timezone of my own, 24h behind the rest of the world, I just realized this today. How I managed to forget a day devoted to breakfast food is beyond me. Clearly, I need to rethink my priorities as of late. To placate those of you who expected me to acknowledge this holiday, here is a picture of Jesus looking spry.

Breakdancing Jesus by Cosmo Sarson

And because I just can't resist: 

Where's my head at?

Two events that I forgot about yesterday:

1. President's Day
2. Rrrrrrrrroll up the Rrrrrrrrrrim.

I'm both a bad daughter of an American, and a bad Canadian. If I was witty enough, I'd create a RUTR someecard. But I'm not. So you get nothing.

Joel Plaskett writes a song about the transit strike

He's awesome.