Fat Tuesday

If you're looking for a yummy recipe for tonight:

Buttermilk Pancakes

1 cup all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons sugar
1 teaspoon baking powder
 1/2 teaspoon salt
1 cup buttermilk
1 tablespoon unsalted butter, melted
1 egg, lightly beaten

In a mixing bowl, stir together the dry ingredients. Make a well in the center and add the remaining ingredients. Stir, starting at the center and gradually mixing in the dry ingredients to make a smooth batter. Cover the bowl and let it stand at room temperature for 1 hour, or overnight in the refrigerator.

Heat a heavy skillet or griddle and grease it lightly. Transfer the batter to a measuring cup or pitcher with a pouring lip, or use a ladle, and pour the batter into the skillet to make 6- to 7-inch pancakes, cooking only as many at one time as you have room for.

Cook the pancakes until bubbles cover their surface, about 1 minute, then turn them with a wide spatula and cook for 1 minute more.

Makes 12 to 16 pancakes.

RIP Don Knotts

Don Knotts has passed away at the ripe old age of 81.

For me, Knotts did his best work early in his career with Steve Allen, Louis Nye and Tom Poston on ''The Steve Allen Show,'' the comedy-variety show that ran from 1956-61. Those boys made magic together. Just thinking about it makes me smile.

Would it be selfish of me to suggest a fitting memorial would be to release that gold on dvd already?!

Remember that saying about "picking your battles"?

Well, those obsessed with political correctness and (one-way) tolerance have struck again! Actually they struck in October of last year, but I'm just hearing about this now. It must have happened when I was sitting with my fingers in my ears "la-la-la-ing":

"Politicians in West Midlands, UK banned the display of toy pigs and other pig-related items in municipal offices as a result of a single complaint from a Muslim. Among the banned items were piggy banks, novelty pig calendars and a tissue box featuring Winnie the Pooh and Piglet."

Say WHAT?!?!?!

No. I'm sorry. WHAAAA???

This just makes my head hurt. It also makes me wish that I had been aware of this insanity when Toronto Muslim groups protested on Bloor Street two weeks ago, crowding the sidewalks, making it difficult for us to get into Lulu Lemon and generally annoying people. Because of a cartoon. I would have worn a piglet t-shirt or something and flashed it at righteous sign carriers. Also, please be aware that I will be protesting "Cathy" cartoons the next time I go bathing suit shopping or eat a brownie. It's my own personal holy war waged against statements like "Shoes are like chocolate for feet!". You've been warned.

I've also decided to include one of the cartoons that appeared in Jyllands-Posten and caused the uproar in the first place, as a reminder of the fact that free speech is being trampled in the name of religious rights and tolerance:


And this, just to remind you about what I will be fighting against this Spring, in a change room and/or bakery near you:


Here's a MUST read:

Islam images or Mohammed throughout history

And Irshad Manji, smarty pants, keeping it real:

Muslim-Refusenik

Abadee, abadeee....fight the power people, and keep your pigs in plain sight.

Cathy...I'm lookin' at you!

Photo Series: My Toronto

Part Two: Leslieville by Night

I was always a West-end girl, until November 2004 when we packed up our little band, crossed Yonge Street...kept going...crossed the DVP....kept going...and landed in Leslieville. I won't lie to you, the first week or so I felt like we had moved so far East that I was now in Scarborough. Or Newfoundland. Or Bangladesh. I soon adjusted though and I love our chosen neighbourhood. A mixture of salty and sweet, Leslieville can be quaint and charming while holding on to its factory town roots with avengence. I think Leslieville after dark holds a little more salt than sugar. And I like it that way.

Get Your 'Stash On!

I bring you photographic evidence that, yes, indeed, Kristian Reimer's Moustache Comedy Rock Show was a huge success!

Thursday, February 16, 2006
The Supermarket, Kensington Market
Toronto

Ghetto

This week, Toronto started on a path of great change. Phase one of the demolition of the Regent Park Projects began on Monday.

For more on the history of the neighbourhood and for the revitalization plan visit:

Regent Park

Now, I've been thinking about this long awaited turn of events frequently this week and I had lots of issues I wanted to discuss here on 'ol Bloggy McBloggerson when I found the time. My mind has been swirling with thoughts about urban planning and race relations and equality. Infrastructure. Transformation. Hope.

But right now it's Friday night...I've been working all night...I just took a nice hot bath and have just now poured myself a glass of red wine. And when I think about the "projects" all I can think of think of is that unforgettable stand up routine from the one and only Dave Chappelle.

So I won't go all Jane Jacobs on your ass tonight folks. Enjoy.

David Chappelle:

I was taken to the ghetto once, that's the worst when you're taken and you're not expecting to go. Usually you want to know when you're going to the ghetto, like, "I'm gonna see some wild shit, I gotta prepare myself to see something crazy." When you're taken its different. I had a limousine driver, it was after the show, at like 3 in the morning. I had a limousine driver, he's a nice guy, talking to me and shi'. He's like, "Where you from, dog? DC? Word. That's a rough city, man." And his cellphone started ringing, he's like, "Hold one one second. Hello? Oh, what's up nigga? What? What the fuck, slow down, what? What the fuck? No! No! No! Fuck it, I'm on my way!"

"Hey, I gotta make a stop real quick." At 3 o'clock in the morning, and I didn't know he was taking me to the ghetto at first. I started looking out the window, see gun store, gun store, liquor store, gun store, where the fuck you taking me? This don't look good. He didn't say shit. He just pulled up in front of an old rickety building that looked like a project. I've never been there before, I'm not sure if it was a project, it certainly had all the familiar symptoms of a project. A fucking crackhead ran this way, tktktktktktk! Then another one jumped out of a tree and shit, tktktk! The guy said, "I'll be right back," and left me. Took the keys with him and just left me. At 3 o'clock in the morning, in front of a project, in a fucking limousine. This was not good. I was like, "I gotta look around, find some landmarks, see if I can figure out where I'm at. I might have to escape on foot." Now this is when I know I'm in a bad neighborhood, you only see this in the worst neighborhoods. Remember, this was 3 o'clock in the morning. I looked out the window, and there was a fucking baby standing on the corner. And the baby didn't even look scared, he was just standing there. And it made me sad you know, because I wanted to help the baby. I was like, "Mm mm I don't trust you either, click! clllick! The old baby-on-the-corner trick, eh? Not gonna fall for that shit. But where is this limousine driver?" As time goes by I start feeling worse, I was like, "What the hell is wrong with me, I'm scared of a baby! But this baby could be in trouble, he may need my help. I gotta do something." But I wasn't gonna get out of the car. I'm serious, man. I just cranked the window open a little bit. "Hey baby! Baby, go home, man! It's 3 o'clock in the morning man, what the fuck are you doing up?" The baby says, "I'm selling weed, nigga!"

[later] "Hey, baby! Stop selling weed, all right, you've got your whole life ahead of you." He goes, "Fuck you, nigga. I got kids to feed!"

My "Funny-That-Way" Valentine

"A Teddy Bear Holding a Heart"
--------------------------------------------------
When I was a single young 20-something I spent a couple of years working in an animation production studio which was disproportionately populated by gay men. Now, I love the gay men. I have, in fact, been known in some circles to be a first class hag. A "fruit fly" if you will. I adore my boys. My boys are funny, they are nurturing, they are strong. Hell, I took it as a compliment when I was mistook for a Drag Queen.

The first two times.

Here's the thing though...when you are a single young 20-something straight girl on Valentines Day and every Twink in the office receives large (yet tasteful) floral arrangements, boxes of chocolate (Belgium) and singing (sometimes stripping) telegrams it can really do a number on your ego.

Where was mine?

Of course when you are a single young 20-something straight girl who spends all her free time performing on the musical theatre stage and scoffing martinis in gay bars you have nobody to blame but yourself. I should have known I'd never find a man to send me flowers living that Liza Minnelli lifestyle.

The reality was I didn't want a man to send me flowers. Not then. That's precisely why I chose to live that Liza Minnelli/Judy Garland/Bruce Villanch lifestyle. But on Valentine's Day it was hard to remember that being inundated as I was with the hearts and the flowers and the feeling of exclusion.

Ruminating on these times a few years later it occurs to me...I bet those Queens bought themselves all those goodies just to look good in front of everyone in the office. Competitive, Fabulous, Bastards.

I still love 'em. Just not on February 14th.

Meet you at The Elisabeth Kubler-Ross Salon: A Week in the Life of a Haircut

Saturday
It was a rainy day, ordinary, like any other and I got a haircut. At first I wasn't so sure that it was sitting right on the top of my head. Convinced myself it was just a styling issue - when I wash it myself all will be well. Denial.

Sunday
Wore a baseball cap and stayed home. The Robeau said, and I quote "What? It looks fine". Denial and Isolation.

Monday
Realized that I actually had bangs - and that they were flying off the top of my forehead in a feathered fashion. Also realized that I looked like I should be eating lunch at the TD centre food court in my sad skirt suit and Princess Reebocks. Anger.

Tuesday
Decide to paste the bangs down on my forehead in a 60's style sweep with a half beehive, headband, flip combo. Big hit with the office folks - especially Reimer who likes retro hairstyles and mudflap girls and takes me out for Whiskey Sours after work. Promise myself to learn to enjoy the long, involved styling process every morning. Bargaining.

Wednesday
Just pin them back with a bobby pin - not as successful - start feeling very insecure - like I was 13 all over again. Didn't I grow my bangs out 20 years ago??? Not good. Depression.

Thursday
Discover Spray Gel is helpful in keeping them flat - until the end of the day when I look like a middle aged GO train riding suburban mom again. Ask self, "Why me?" and then, "What would Oprah do?". Depression lingers.

Friday
Am trying a kind of curl to the side action - success level tbd. Am not hopeful. Suspect that by mid-day I will be sporting the "Superman" curl in the middle of my forehead. Zee Noixy, when informed about this week's turn of events asks me to take a digital photo so she can "check out that lid". Laughter. Acceptance.

Kudos!

A great big congratulations to my friend, the wonderful Kaj Pindal, whose television series Peep and the Big Wide World has been nominated for a 2006 Daytime Emmy Award. This charming little show, which has Kaj's charming personality all over it took home the Emmy last year. Say it with me! REPEAT! REPEAT!

As we've established here on ol' Bloggy McBloggerson, award shows are one of my true guilty pleasures. All of 'em, except The Grammy's cause they are ALWAYS such a train wreck...and well, I guess The Espies...cause...do I really need to explain that? I did see about 30 seconds of the Grammy telecast last night. It was some sort of GAWD FORSAKEN tribute to Sly and the Family Stone. With every recording "artist" in there on stage looking lost and sounding like HELL. Made me want to yack. The only Grammy winners I care about are these:

Jazz Vocal Album: "Good Night, and Good Luck," Dianne Reeves.

Jazz Instrumental Solo: "Why Was I Born?" Sonny Rollins.

Jazz Instrumental Album, Individual or Group: "Beyond the Sound Barrier," Wayne Shorter Quartet.

Contemporary Jazz Album: "The Way Up," Pat Metheny Group.

Large Jazz Ensemble Album: "Overtime," Dave Holland Big Band.

Latin Jazz Album: "Listen Here!" Eddie Palmieri.

Sorry to see Terence Blanchard's nomination didn't result in a win, but can't complain really. All the winners are deserving.

Kudos to them!

He's got no strings to hold him down.

To mark Primeminister Harper's first full day in office, I give you....this:


The Robeau and I spent the weekend in Belleville, Ontario a few weeks ago and in the lobby of the hotel we were staying in, there he was, former Primeminister Martin, turned to wood. Is it just me, or is the resemblance uncanny?

Farewell Paulie, Howdy guy who appoints unelected people to cabinet! No, it's not wrong...it's just that I find it weird. But he arrived at Parliament in a minivan instead of a limo, so I guess that makes him one of us. Whatever. I got a bad haircut this weekend, I choose to obsess over that instead of politics. Harper - bring it! I got bangs I didn't ask for....I've got BIGGER problems than Stockwell Day being raised from the dead. Or at least I'm going to keep telling myself that.

Tracey playing by herself, man...

I was doing my time on the exercise bike at the gym, really "working it" as they say, since I was feeling particularly peppy and ambitious that day. I like the bike. I like any exercising I can sit down for. Anyway, I was really "working it" - I was sweating so much I looked like Jimmy Garrison playing bass. I looked like I was standing in the rain. And then, I started to cry. Soft, gently little tears, which, let's face it, probably just blended in with the sweat. I hope. Stevie Wonder was singing Do I Do in my ear via the ipod mini and hearing his voice swell with pride with "Ladies and gentlemen, I have the pleasure to present on MY album Mr. Dizzy Gillespie...BLOW!" caused me to just LOSE. IT. Like the people at the chic and lovely King West Club didn't have cause to find me unusual already...

Spring can really hang you up the most.

Phil, the "weather predicting groundhog" has said we will only have to endure 6 more weeks of winter. So I guess that makes it official. Cause a groundhog said so. What a goofy tradition. Meanwhile, it's felt like Spring through most of January anyway which has people all confused. I saw a teenager in shorts yesterday. People are drinking frozen coffee while walking around with their coats open. Today, for the second day in a row, a perfectly normal looking young man (read: not sleazy looking, not ranting and off his meds and/or not 80+) smiled and winked at me. I mean, stopped in his tracks, made direct eye contact with me, smiled and winked. Seriously, WHAT is that about?! It's got to be the weather. Because, I tell you what - there has been nothing "come hither" about me the last couple of days. And when I say "the last couple of days" I mean since I've been, you know, 19. Besides, normal people just don't behave like that on the street, do they? It's got to be the weather. These dudes must have The Groundhog Fever. I heard it's going around.

Pulling a Count von Count

It only took about 30 seconds. I thought I could hold out longer, but it only took about 30 seconds for me to start looking for ways to distract myself during President Bush's State of the Union Address. Counting, I thought, might be the answer. Perhaps I could count the number of standing ovations received in the middle of a sentence...but that proved to be too taxing a task. Like counting snowflakes, or the number of times Audrey Raines took her glasses off and put them back on in this week's episode of 24.