The video screen shows a nerdy 30-something white man wearing dark pants and loafers, anxiously standing alone on a football field. Suddenly he starts running away, quickly and awkwardly. The viewer soon sees why, for the unathletic loner is being chased by a young male football player in full protective gear. The pursuer easily catches up with his prey and mercilessly sacks him. Continue reading
I spent all weekend baking and cooking. And I mean ALL weekend; I went organic food shopping on Friday night, and then to the local markets and specialty shops on Saturday. I think I was in the kitchen for about 8 hours on Saturday, watching the fourth season of Dexter–so good despite the family theme–while recreating some of the dishes I had eaten in France: ratatouille, wine-soaked fennel, crespeou, and cassis creme brulee, to name only a few. I loved using that mini-blow torch to melt the vergeoise sugar while shouting ‘fire!,’ ‘fire!’ like Beavis on Beavis and Butthead, Continue reading
‘I’m going to show you what pain is all about,’ joked my delightful young trainer today as she loaded the leg press machine with 230 pounds. Continue reading
I used to hate being called a girl. ‘I am a woman, dammit. A girl is less than 16 years old.’ But now I like the term and use it regularly, hoping to reclaim it. Oh no, I am endorsing a 1990s consumer invention called girl power. Must repress painful memories of the Spice Girls. Shudder. Just in case any old men are reading this blog, you are still not allowed to call me or any other woman a girl. And if, god forbid, you are that type of presumptuous old guy who thinks that he has the right to talk to all women younger than him–at the gym, the supermarket, in line at Shopper’s Drugmart–making stupid jokes while always expecting a friendly response, I am here to say ‘stop that you wizened jackass because we owe you nothing.’ Furthermore, if you demand that I ‘smile’ I will cut you. But I digress. Continue reading
Picture a standard hotel room at the Hilton, with two double beds facing a flat screen TV. Brown stains cover a rumpled sheet that lies across the narrow entrance hallway. A heavyweight female bodybuilder stands on top of it, wearing only a g-string, arms outspread. Two women kneel on either side of her, spraying her skin with tanning lotion, smoothing the smears with a small foam brush. ‘I am going to open your ass crack now to paint inside it,’ says one of the worker bees. Continue reading
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