The TV Of My Childhood

I found a link to The Top 10 Unintentionally Funny TV Intros on the always entertaining Pop Culture Junkmail, and found it to be deliciously awesome.

I was inspired by it to look up some of my favourite shows from when I was a kid, and because they are all so eighties fabulous, knew they had to be posted here.

Growing Pains

We moved to Goderich when I was 9. Before then, I really didn't watch much TV. I know, you don't believe it. But it's true. We moved in January, and I remember during one of the first days in Mr. Mason's grade 4 class we were doing a unit on graphs, and the class was taking surveys to display in graph form. Fully half the class covered the riveting topic "What's your favourite TV show", and I didn't have one. That's right. I did not have a favourite television show. I picked Growing Pains because like half of the class had picked it and it's important to conform in the 4th grade.

After that I grew to love it though, and developed the requisite 1987 crush on Kirk Cameron. Ahh, Kirk Cameron. So dreamy before he went insane.

Family Ties

We used to watch Family Ties as a family. Good quality wholesome family fun, that was. Good times. I just bought season 1 on DVD and it's held up pretty well. And it's got a kick ass theme song.

Night Court

I wasn't just a fan of the family sitcom. I also enjoyed a nice office comedy - especially if set in a New York small claims court. Oh, the wackiness! I recall being very invested in the storyline between Markie Post's character and her cop boyfriend. That's right. I cared about Markie Post.

Perfect Strangers

Speaking of awesome theme songs, I love this one. It's so inspirational. And who can't relate to the story of mis-matched cousins from different countries who end up living and working together .... and becoming best friends. I think I'm going to cry.

Facts Of Life

I am female and grew up in the eighties. Of course I love Facts Of Life. It would be crazy if I didn't. Jo was my favourite. I thought she was so cool. Remember, I was very young.

Who's The Boss

I was watching an episode of How I Met Your Mother recently and a character asked who the boss was. Clearly the responses were "Tony", then "Angela", then after a pause "Mona". And I laughed. Oh, how I laughed. I have a very vivid memory of the guys in my sixth grade class all getting their hair cut like the kid who played Jonathan. Like I can laugh though - that was the year of hair sprayed bangs and multi-coloured slouch socks.

Head Of The Class

I loved this show. Less so in the post Howard Hessman days, but I still watched it. Who can dislike a show with many, many musical episodes? Sure, the kids were performing in musicals, but still they did it first. I also had a crush on the tough guy, who also appeared in one of my favourite eighties teen movies Camp Cucamonga.

The Hogan Family

Ah, Jason Bateman before he was cool. Good times, I tell you. I remember shockingly little about this show, but I know I liked it.

Gimme A Break

I used to watch this after school. It was on after Facts of Life, as I recall. You know, I'd bet that in the future, archeaologists are going to find all these sitcoms from the eighties and decide that every household had a sassy black houskeeper and/or a sassy British butler. The main thing is the sass. That's the most importnat part.

Ah, eighties sitcoms. So delightful. Just think - kids growing up today are going to be sitting at their computers reminiscing about that stupid sitcom with James Belushi. These are sad, sad times we live in.

Spelling with Flickr

What's that you say? A way to waste time at work? Fantastic, I say!


I got this from Ragdoll, and found it a fabulous idea. Here's my Flickr blog title:

To make your own, go here. Or, you can look up the letters yourself like a sucker. Not that anyone I know did that. Ahem.

I've seen this like five times now...

but it freaking kills me every time.





Ah, those lolcats. So funny.

Party Paranoia

I am a nervous party planner.

Every single time I have ever planned a party, or really any large-ish gathering of any kind, I have sent myself into a frenzy of nerves. I worry that I've invited the wrong people, or not enough people, or too many people, or that the people I've invited won't like each other, or that I've forgotten to invite someone and they'll be mad, or I accidentally sent an invite to someone who hates me and they'll be even madder, or that the party will just suck.

And, of course, because I am me, I worry if I don't get responses fast enough. Even though I myself am notoriously bad for getting an email invite and thinking "yay, that sounds fun!" and then completely failing to repsond to it, I still panic when people do the same thing to me.

Even when I know for sure that lots of people are still coming, I will still be ready way too early, and panic because I'm certain that no one will show up and I'll be the loser who sits alone in her tidy flat with a beer in her hand and a sad, sad look on her face. Of course, that never happens, and I don't think I've ever had a bad party. But still, I am a worrier.

Clearly, this is all leading up to the fact that I'm having a barbeque to celebrate Canada Day, which is a very exciting day for us Canadians. It should be fun, and really even if only a few people come, it'll still be a good time. But I still stress. Because that's who I am. I am a stresser.

I bought some decorations already, so I'm committed now. No turning back.

And hey - if you got an email inviting you to the bbq? Can you email me back please? It'll help reduce my levels of stress.

Gosh, it's been a while, hasn't it?

So, sorry about the lack of blogging. I'm not very proud of myself, and you've got every right to be peeved with me.

But we can still be friends, can't we?

Oh, good. I'm glad we got that sorted out.

So, what's been new with me? Well, I've been doing a bit of writing for a fab blog called Londonist. You may have heard of it - and if you don't live in London, there are many other "ist" websites. There's probably one for the city you live in!

Anyway, I've been writing for them for a few weeks now, and I'm enjoying it a lot.

Here are a bunch of the posts I've written recently:

• Cat Rescue
• Danger! Danger!
• Owl Rescue
• Hosptial Food Deemed Not Delicious
• Ornithologists rejoice!
• TinyTinnyTanic
• Global London
• Harry Potter Madness At Natural History Museum
• Marmosets!
• Poetry Hits The High Courts
• Breaking (In) News: Crime in London

So, that's what I've been up to. Feel free to check it out and let me know what you think. But only if you think nice things. If you've got mean things to say, you can keep those to yourself.

What's new with you?

Sometimes, photos speak for themselves....

Impulsive Decisions

I've needed to get my hair cut for quite a while now - the last time I had it done was before Christmas, and it was looking pretty shabby. So, I booked myself an appointment at my hairdresser of choice for Saturday, and was all set.

"So, what are you going to get done?", I was asked on Friday.

Like a flash of inspiration, the answer came to me.

"I think I'll go a bit blonder. You know, for summer. And ..... I think I'll get a fringe!"

For the sake of clarification, at this point I should explain that what we in the UK call "a fringe", in Canada we would call "bangs". Just so you don't get confused.

And so, I tell her what I want. But I just say "a fringe". I do not say "a fringe, but longer and kind of side-swepty and not too short, and did I mention not too short?"

Clearly, I should have said that, if that's what I wanted. Because that is not what I have.

I have a fringe. And it's not a sweepy, long, non-fringe, fringe. It's a proper fringe. It's bangs, baby.

Bangs. It's madness, I tell you.

I'm getting used to it though. I think. Oh, impulsive decisions. You're so much fun.

Funnier in my head...

See, I live in the UK, and we do not get the US version of Dancing With The Stars. We have the old school Strictly Come Dancing. And since I don't even watch that, it seems unlikely that I will watch Dancing With The Stars, should it make it's way to our shores.

So, as with all American shows I haven't seen, when I read things about them, I'm forced to create a mental version of the show that often bears no resemblance to the real thing.

Yesterday, I was reading this, and this line made me laugh out loud:

Do you think Tom Bergeron hates himself? I think he hates himself. He took this shitty hosting job, probably thinking that he'd make a quick buck and no one would ever actually watch the show. I mean, really. Dancing? With the stars? How long could that last? And yet, four seasons and some huge ratings later, here we are.

Because, see, I read it wrong, and had in my head this man as the host of the show:



I was so sad to learn the truth. Beacuse, really, is my version not infinitely better than some former news reporter and Hollywood Squares host?

The star of one of my favourite movies of all time - and don't you pretend that you don't think Major League is an under-appreciated classic, because you know you do - commenting on the dance moves of Heather Mills-(ex)McCartney?

That, my friends, is comedy gold.

It's like Ticketmaster can see into my soul....

An email I recieved only moments ago:



Because if there are two things I love, then those two things are McFly and Tom Jones.

The last tickets I bought from Ticketmaster were for Bon Jovi. Clearly, this means I am either a thirteen year old girl, or Carlton Banks.

Further tales of stupidity...

Chances are that, in a lifetime, most people will never have a coat stolen. This is because people, for the most part, are sensible. They take care of their belongings. They are vigilant and careful.

And, let's say that they do have a coat stolen once, from a bar or restaurant coat check. Do you think they'll let it happen a second time? Unlikely.

Unless, of course, they are me.

Then they will have had coats stolen on three occasions. That's right. Three.

Small Town Bar, December 2000 - Goderich, Ontario

Imagine, if you will. A formerly small town girl, now living in the big city, returns home for Christmas.

She's out with her friends at the local bar, which used to have a sensible name and is now called Paddy O'Irish or something silly like that, and she hangs her coat, a long dark grey number, on the clothes rack just outside the bar entrance, by the toilets. There are other coats on this coat rack, so it's not like she's being all that careless. She proceeds to get very drunk, as you do when you go home for Christmas. At the end of the night, before making the twenty minute walk home in the blistering cold, she goes to get her coat.

Only, it's not there. She looks everywhere. She asks at the bar. She checks the now virtually empty coat rack again, just to make sure that it's really not there. It's really not there.

She walks home with her friends, in the blistering cold, wearing borrowed gloves and a hat to prevent freezing to death. She keeps saying "I can't believe someone stole my coat!" all the way home, to the annoyance of her friends.

She buys a replacement coat when she gets back to Toronto, but has to wear an old blue ski jacket of her mom's the whole rest of the Christmas holidays.

Work Christmas Party, December 2004 - London, England

Right, so this same girl? She lives in England now. And she has a winter coat of such beauty. She bought it in Toronto with her friend Teresa, and it's real pretty. It's got a faux-fur collar. She loves her coat.

At her work Christmas party, there is much drinking and merriment at the meal, and she and her co-workers decide to wander into Soho for a few more drinks and a bit of dancing. They end up in a basement bar on Old Compton Street, and snag a group of tables. The boys stand and chat, all manly like, while the girls take to the dance floor. The girls return to the tables, where everyone is milling around, chatting, drinking and flirting. Good times are had by all.

When the bar closes, and the group is finally kicked out, the girl looks for her coat in the pile on one of the chairs at their group of tables. It's not there.

She checks the other chairs, checks the floor, asks at the bar, looks everywhere she can think of. It's gone.

Her second coat has been stolen.

She bursts into tears. Keep in mind that she is very drunk, and she loved that coat. The loss of it makes her very emotional.

She gets in a cab with two co-workers to make the trek home, and makes them promise not to tell her how stupid she was to leave it sitting unattended. One of her co-workers, who shall remain nameless, immediately says "Yes, but you really should have ...". He isn't able to finish his sentence, because the girl bites his head off and they argue for the entire cab ride. The other co-worker sits quietly in the back seat and giggles to herself the entire way.

For the rest of the winter, the girl wears a leather coat the isn't nearly as pretty as her faux-fur one. But she makes due.

A Friend's Birthday Party, last Saturday night, March 2007 - London, England

You'd think that by now this girl would have learned her lesson, and kept her eye on her belongings when out, wouldn't you?

Oh, you know that she's not that bright.

Anyway, she's out at London's only Bavarian Beerhouse on a Saturday afternoon for a friend's birthday, and has hung her coat up on the hooks provided. There is much chatting, much laughter, and much drinking of German beer.

At about seven o'clock, after a good five hours of drinking, the group is asked to move to a different section of the restaurant. The group, girl included, pick up their belongings, settle their tabs, and move over to the back bit of the restaurant.

There is much more drinking.

At around one A.M., the girl realizes she is drunker than she's ever been, possibly drunker than anyone has ever been. She decides to go home. She grabs her bag, and goes to get her coat.

It's not there.

It's not where she'd originally hung it up either. And it's not on the table with the random left-behind coats. It's gone.

That's right. She's had her coat stolen. Again.

She's lent a jacket from a very nice young man, and heads home.

She has yet to replace the coat.

Seriously. Three times. What do you think the odds of that are?

Oh, and also?

The Steve Guttenberg Project has a new look too, and a few new posts.

Fashion Avenger

Dear Woman I Saw On The Stairs Transferring Between The DLR And Northern Line at Bank Station On Sunday,

I'd like to share something with you, if I may. In 1990, I was in the seventh grade. As I'm sure you're aware the pre-teen years are often not kind to girls, fashion wise. Not only did we all love New Kids On The Block, perms and super hairsprayed bangs, but we all either pinned or rolled our trousers.

See, the fashion at the time was to either fold in and roll the cuff of your jeans or trousers tight against your ankle, or pin your trousers, either just at the ankle or from the ankle to mid-calf.

You've got to keep in mind that this was 1990. The fashion was not for tight jeans. It was for baggy jeans. Baggy, pleated, often highly patterned jeans. So, this rolling or pinning created an upsetting effect that flattered no one.

We also wore them with slouch socks, often more than one pair, that we'd colour coordinate to our outfits.

It wasn't a good look. But, in my defense, it was 1990, and I was twelve. I've learned a lot since then.

Do you see what I'm trying to tell you?

Because I'm trying to understand why you were rocking this look last Sunday. In 2007. When you were older than twelve.

I actually did a triple take when I saw your trousers. "Nice colour", I thought. "What the? No, I must have seen that wrong, " I thought. "Nope, didn't see that wrong. What the HELL?", I thought again.

Perfectly fine khaki trousers, ruined by being skin tight from the ankle to the knee, creating a very unfortunate jodhpur effect. I couldn't tell whether you'd modified them, or if they were designed that way. But, you know what? It doesn't matter.

Why, why, why? Why???

I already lived through this look once. I've dealt with a lot of unfortunate looks from my childhood becoming fashionable again, but I'm damned if I'm going to deal with this again.

Get it together lady. I'm not going to re-live the early nineties again. Buy some new trousers.

For all of us.

All the best,
Alice

New look!

I did a bit of updating, since Blogger has forced me to switch to their version 2 and lose all the fancy whatnots that were on the pretty version 1 blog.

What do y'all think?

Curse that Facebook!

Because I am easily coerced into doing almost anything, I signed up for Facebook today. And while I was procrastinating on that, I found this on a friend's page thingy.

And it's so true.

You Are 40% Evil

A bit of evil lurks in your heart, but you hide it well. In some ways, you are the most dangerous kind of evil.

How Evil Are You?

I often feel my potential for evil is underestimated.

Marketing Travesty

There's a Woolworth's just near my house, and as well as having cheap kitchen-y stuff, they also have a smallish DVD section, which often has super-fantastic deals.

Every once in a while, I go to persue their selection and have come away with many a bargain. The other week, I was taking a peek, and what did I stumble across?

Let's just take a moment to laugh at the fact that it was only £1.

Anyway, huh, I thought to myself. Did Sarah Jessica Parker and Helen Hunt make a movie together recently? Because that's a recent photo on the cover, yes?

And then I noticed the title.

Oh, that's right. It's Girls Just Want To Have Fun.

The NINETEEN EIGHTY FIVE film Girls Just Want To Have Fun. The film that was made 22 years ago, when Sarah Jessica Parker was 20 and Helen Hunt was 22. The film in which they play teenagers.

And don't even get me started on the layout - if you're going to have the tagline "Life will be serious soon enough, but for now...", then it really should be ABOVE the title so it makes sense!

But back to the blatantly misleading photo.

Perhaps they've just used this on the front, and the back will clear everything up.

Well, in the sense that they've used actual photos from the movie, yes. In the sense that by far the largest photo is of Sarah Jessica Parker circa the Sex & The City years, no.

For the record, this is what the cover should look like:

That's right. They're YOUNG! And it also stars Shannen Doherty. The 2007 cheater cover shows no Shannen Doherty love. (Also, please gloss over the fact that I now own two copies of this movie.) (Please gloss over the fact that I'd actually already replaced the VHS copy in that photo with a DVD, and I actually now own three copies of this movie.)

I can only imagine the disgust that someone would feel if they bought this movie based solely on the (obviously photoshopped, once you really look at it) image on the cover.

They'd expect a rom-com about thirty-something gals in the city. And what would they get?

A teen dance movie that features an awkward teenaged Sarah Jessica Parker competing in a dance competition on a show called "Dance TV" with her dreamy partner Jeff. Her wacky friend Helen Hunt, Jeff's best friend Jonathan Silverman and his sister Shannen Doherty help the crazy kids win the dance competion - and each other's hearts. And it contains the line "Eat flame, Bozo!"

For shame, DVD marketing people. For shame, I say!

Being back from holiday is always a letdown

I highly recommend a skiing holiday in which you don't do any skiing. I'm telling you, that's some good fun. Try not to get a cold though - that can be a bit of a downer.

Meribel is just beautiful. It's about a 3 hour drive from the Geneva airport, in the French alps. A fair bit of that drive was going up the mountain. Turns out? Mountains are tall.

There were 11 of us in the chalet, which really does sound like a lot, but it wasn't too crowded. We did need to have a kids table at dinner though, since you couldn't fit all of us around the dining table. But the kids table isn't too bad when you have copious amounts of wine and get to be in charge of various iPods of awesome.

It snowed the day we arrived, so it was all snowy and gorgeous, and really looked just like a French ski resort should.

Seriously. How pretty is this?

You can try and tell me it's not gorgeous, and I will ignore you, because you will be lying.

It really was such a relaxing trip. Lots of beer, card games - well one card game, Asshole, which really is the best game ever - good food, more beer, wine, more wine, skiing and snowboarding (only not for me), still more wine and much hilarity.

We also formed the world's best pub quiz team, comprising me, Jo, Sam, Leanne, Ivan and Mel (also known as the Girl Team. Sorry guys.) We seriously kicked so much ass. 38 out of 50 questions right, and the next best team only got 25. We are geniuses!! And also good looking. This is a team of victory, I tell you.

We had our winning jug of beer stolen by a team that couldn't handle our superiority, but which shall remain nameless.

Nameless, but I will post a photo. That beer they're drinking? Stolen. Poor losers, I say. Intimidated by our awesomeness.

It was such a fun trip. And it's really so beautiful there.

Being back at work is a bit sad now. Especially since I still have a cold.

I'd rather be back here.

Feelin' crafty

Every once in a while, I feel a little bit crafty. Please see: the scarf I've been knitting since 2003, the pillowcase I've been embroidering for a year, and all the various books I own on paper mache, knitting, quilting, and a zillion other things.

I painted my kitchen a few weeks ago, from a nasty light blue to a delicious dark red, and it looks awesome. But it really highlighted the fact that the chairs that were left behind by the previous owners? Yeah, they were ugly.

Chair one, on the left, is a perfectly nice wooden chair with a nasty yellow seat. Chair two, on the right, was a puffy disgusting mushroom coloured monstrosity that was gross, gross, gross.

So, what's a crafty girl to do?

Well, re-cover them, obviously.

I bought some awesome fabric on eBay, along with a staple gun, some upholstery foam for the seats and some black paint. Sorted!

I started with the ugly yellow chair.

And what happens when you're trying to take a photograph of a chair?

That's right. A cat jumps on it.

Turns out that these chairs are really cleverly designed and it's super easy to remove the seat. Once you get the cat off, of course.

Let the painting commence!

I decided to move into the living room, where the floors are newer and more expensive and harder to clean. And there's a TV to watch while I paint. Really, what would you choose?

I did put newspaper down. I'm not an idiot. Thank god Julia reads four hundred papers a day, so we had lots to use.

The chair already looked much less ugly when I finished the painting, which was pleasing.

Sadly, the staple gun I spent all of £3 on eBay wasn't up to the task of actually, you know, stapling stuff, so I had to get a replacement for £4 at Woolworths. God, what am I? Made of money?

The staple gunning was the fun bit. The realizing that I almost didn't have enough fabric wasn't fun. Stupid bigger-than-they-look seats.

Fortunately, I did have just enough to get both seat covers finished. Yay! And they look so much better now. It's almost like I went and bought attractive chairs. Clearly, that would be crazy talk, but it's almost as if I actually did that.

Again, taking a photo of a chair? A guarantee that a cat will jump on it.

"This chair is so comfortable and pretty! I wish I could stand on it all day!", is clearly what Lucy is thinking.

Go on. Try and tell me these aren't some fabulous looking chairs that look great in my new red kitchen.

Because I won't believe you.