The Lifespan of a Fly


We Meet Again… Netflix
October 21, 2011, 1:17 PM
Filed under: Generalizations | Tags: , , , , , , ,

So we finally got ourselves Netflix. Actually, we didn’t. My mom gave me her account and password and insisted that we try it out and see how we like it. After years of deciding which torrents to download, and planning their download time around your regular life. iI’s sort of neat to be able to browse through hundreds of titles, most of which were movies you wanted to see but not badly enough to pay for them of their own accord.

Which has led us to a new dilemma. The Wii remote blinks schizophrenically at us while we’re trying to make a decision. It blinks like that because we’re always out of batteries and are left instead to scrounge them from other remote controls, alarm clocks, smoke detectors and other valuable life-saving necessities. We could go buy more, but it’s probably not going to happen any time soon.

So now it’s October, and October is the month where I watch a year’s worth of horror movies and serial killer flicks in tandem.

So I watch one serial killer movie! One! Now it keeps recommending “Ed’s Top Ten” filled with brutal violence. Which is cool, cause I like brutal violence in movies and all, but it’s my parents’ account! And I don’t live with them!

I can just see it now, Ma and Pa, sitting at home about to watch some sort of culturally shocking, or heartwarming movie. Ma moves in for the cuddle and Pa’s big arm rests on her shoulder as she nestles into him.

AND THEN BLAM! In their face is flashed movies where dudes pop out girls’ eyes, or some mad German (why are they always German?) scientist is sticking three people together to make a fecal-fuelled centipede. Which, by the way, probably wouldn’t work with the whole e-coli thing.

So now poor old Ma and Pa must face the cruel reality of their daughter’s interests. No, no. It wasn’t anything to do with the way you raised me! I swear! No, no. It wasn’t because you sent me to overnight summer camp and I got lice! I… I…. I just like it.

A system had to be created. A system that was unbreakable, and convinced my parents that my emotional hard wiring was A-OK. It’s devious, it’s clever and it’s all mine. My secret to defeating Netflix is simple:

All Dogs Go To Heaven.

Clears up those genius suggestions in no time.

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What We Lost

Doris Anderson

Doris Hilda Anderson, CBC: Life and Times

Last week I handed in an essay on Doris Hilda Anderson. If you’re a Canadian, and a woman, and you don’t know who she is, please do me a favour and quickly Google her. actually, you know what? Just click this and be re-directed to a Wikipedia page, because you really should know who she is and what she did for us. So, now that you’d read a little bit about her, aren’t you embarrassed to not know who she is?

Her autobiography “Rebel Daughter” was absolutely fascinating. It outlined her life growing up in Calgary, Alberta during the Great Depression and her continued fight against the status quo. Pretty much, you’re freaking lucky this lady was around, girls. Women have only really truly had their equal rights in Canada since 1981. Yeah, only thirty years have gone past and yet my own generation is completely in the dark about how it was. But I think we lost something when we gained feminism.

I think we lost an essential skill set: domestication. My own generation of women are, well, sort of useless. Oh sure, we hold down jobs and are good at things, but how many actually know how to cook? How many can cook without a recipe? How many of us bake? How many of us can sew? Yeah, not very many. And why would we have to? Dinner is a phone call away. You can have that pretty dress for the office Christmas party for $120, in all sizes and colours. This is capitalism, and this is feminism.

When we gained the freedom to pursue our own interests, we forgot how to do those things our grandmothers spent a life doing. So ladies, have we really helped ourselves? Or have we traded in our over mitts and sewing machines for computer screens and drive-thru? We have lost what made us the queens and conquerors of our homes. We have lost autonomy from mass-produced, capitalistic, shit.

So ladies, remember the women who lived through the Great Depression, who saw the fight for our freedom, and who watched us forget all about it… do them a favour, Ok? Let’s learn to do those skills that are taken for granted; that are needed, but unappreciated. Let’s learn how to do this stuff because if we don’t, we will never be able to gain back what we’ve lost.

Edit: We’ve already kicked men’s asses in the workforce, so let’s kick their asses at home again. Cool?



Dear Husband…
September 28, 2011, 7:34 AM
Filed under: FOOOOOD, Generalizations

Dear Husband,

I awoke early to begin my day of writing. I awoke early, knowing just what I needed to fill that void in my stomach. I awoke early, to see your betrayal staring me in my face.

That’s right, I’m talking about the milk. You remember the milk right? You remember how you poured some into your tea last night? Yes I thought you might. You remember how you used the last bit of the precious liquid in your cereal this morning, right? I bet you can still feel the sweetness against your tongue.

Well I didn’t get to do any of that! My pot of coffee had brewed and the warm smell wrapped itself around my senses. Oh, I was looking forward to enjoying at least three cups of it this morning. But alas! It was not to be! Do you know why, Dear Husband?

Because you used the last of the milk and didn’t replace it!

I was not planning on using the last two eggs this morning. I was going to save them for a large breakfast that the two of us could share. We would daintily feed each other healthy slices of toast filled with eggs and tomatoes and tell jokes that no one else gets. Instead, on this sunny fall morning, I would eat some cereal to conserve the eggs to share with you, my love.

Alas! It was not to be! Why, Dear Husband? Because you used the last of the milk and didn’t replace it!

So I sit here, drinking black coffee, cooking up the last of the eggs, and yet I think of you, Dear Husband.

I think, that when you return from your hectic busy day; when you come into the door with your arms open wide for your Welcome Home hug; when you gesture to your head to show me a haircut which is never styled anyhow… I think, Dear Husband:

THAT YOU BETTER HAVE A GODDAMNED JUG OF MILK IN YOUR HANDS!



Hold Your Questions Please!
September 22, 2011, 1:33 PM
Filed under: Generalizations | Tags: , , , , , , ,

You know what bugs me? Ok, ok a lot of things bug me, but you know what really drives me batshit? Questions. Not questions like “What are you going to make for dinner?” or “Do you want to watch The Shining or Halloween?” but questions that just aren’t anyone’s damned business. For the first six years of our relationship, Mike and I dreaded going to weddings. Short of the booze and bad music, you just knew some distant family member was going to corner you and go “So, when are you two going to tie the knot?” *wink wink* and you’d have to smile and think of some lame excuse like “Oh, it’s not really a priority to us right now”, when what you’re truly thinking are things like “Get lost old bag” or “Who is this person talking to me?”

Well, it gets worse after you get married. People assume that now you’re married you’re just dying to procreate. As if you’ve really been waiting seven years until marriage, because a child out-of-wedlock is a sin…and other bullcrap.

They also assume you want lots and lots and lots of little you’s running around, screaming, eating candy and taking turns crying and pooping. Now, please don’t get me wrong, I don’t dislike kids. But to be fair, I don’t like very many kids either. So this whole “kids” thing? Yeah, I’m thinking about it. It seems kind of cool. I’d like my life to have more meaning then the things we want to do, and well, to be honest, kids have cool toys.

So you answer something like, “Yeah, maybe in a few years we’ll have a baby. Just one though”. Well, that starts off this whole new thing. The family member (whose name you can’t remember and relation you’re skeptical of) starts in on the whole “Just one? Oh, wow. If it were me I would have just had oodles of little babies. I just love their little cheeks and the way they smell”.

Look, I’m thinking about it ok? I don’t really want to commit to a whole slew of kids. That’s like saying “You know, you may as well give me all the BMW’s in the lot, since I like luxury vehicles a whole bunch”. I’m ok with just the one. You know? See how it works out and stuff. Then maybe… maybe I’ll have another one.

Besides, babies are like these perfect, clean little people. They’re canvasses for parents to fill with colours and paint in little personalities. And guaranteed us adults are gonna fuck them up. So I wonder to myself, how many little people do I want to screw up? Cause I’m gonna. So if I only screw up one person, does that mean I’ve mitigated the damages?

I don’t know, this is a lot of pressure.

Is there anywhere I can rent a kid for a bit and see how I do?



You Look So Handsome
August 31, 2011, 7:55 AM
Filed under: Generalizations | Tags: ,

Mike and Tannis Get Married

See how handsome he is?

In anticipation of my loving, handsome, amazingly funny husband getting angry with me for teasing him about Planet of the Apes, I’m posting a picture of our wedding day so that the world can see how goddamn great he really is.



Mike on The Rise of the Planet of the Apes
August 31, 2011, 7:10 AM
Filed under: Bad Movies For Everyone, Generalizations | Tags: , , , , ,

Hey, did I tell you we finally got married? Just as a side note, best part of being married? Having a team name. That’s right, every time Mike and I leave a party we prepare our friends for our departure by declaring “Arts Roll Out!” Apparently our friends are very un-clever because they seem to ignore the hilarity of the situation.

So, back to the blog post. The big movie fans we are, and the big sci-fi fan I am, there was no way I wasn’t going to see The Rise of the Planet of the Apes. We purchased our tickets and browsed around West Edmonton Mall until our showtime. During this idle browsing period, Mike informed me that he had never actually seen Planet of the Apes. Who hasn’t ever seen Planet of the Apes? Like, seriously? What is wrong with your upbringing? Are you broken? But the tickets were bought, and even though he was now going to wreck the original for himself, I didn’t think we could easily sneak into Fright Night due to the 3D and us not having appropriately stolen 3D glasses in the past and saved them up for last-minute movie-ditching. So we were going.

This isn’t a review blog, so I’m not going to review The Rise of the Planet of the Apes, but I will state that I quite enjoyed it. James Franco is a wonderful actor and since I don’t find him attractive, I must actually believe that. So the credits are rolling and the Artses are rolling out of the theatre when the following occurs:

Mike: That was really good. I like how they left it open for a sequel. They are gonna have a sequel right?
Tannis: Yes, and we can watch it tomorrow if you’d like. It’s called Planet of the Apes.

Totally should have snuck into Fright Night and just squinted a lot. When we have children, you can count of me pumping them full of essential cultural influences. Seriously though, who hasn’t seen Planet of the Apes? Oh the tragedy.



You Have Been Un-Friended
August 30, 2011, 2:42 PM
Filed under: Generalizations | Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

Normally I’ll do a substantive Facebook clean up where people from elementary school and people you meet at parties and have pictures of you get erased. However, this all-encompassing attitude towards a Facebook cleanse isn’t working out for me. Therefore, I am now setting guidelines which will determine on an individual basis who I will be deleting from Facebook. Since this blog is linked to my profile, I expect that those who read this will either delete me first, or follow my new rules.

1. If you update your status more than 5 times a day, you shall be un-friended. If your life is that interesting I beg you to please start keeping a journal, use Twitter or go on reality TV and get paid for it.

2. If you post pictures of what you’re eating/will eat/have eaten. It looks yummy to you, to me it looks like a 1975 Company’s Coming cookbook. If you’re not inviting me for dinner, stop inviting me to look at what I’m not invited to eat.

3. OMG!!!. If I see this I assume there must be something so goddamn awesome you can’t even finish your sentence involved. If awesomeness isn’t involved, please stop using this to explain how your cat, Mr. Muffins, ate mothballs yesterday.

4. Pictures of your pedicure. Don’t care, they’re toenails and your feet are callused. Yuck

5. Repeated status updates relating to your job. You’re employed, I’m employed, we don’t do it cause it’s fun. Got it. I don’t care. I don’t know how else to explain it, but I can guarantee no one else cares either. Except for maybe your boss, who would be happy to relieve you of your consistent complaining about your job. He calls it “unemployment”.

This is the beginning of the end. Please continue posting pictures of your vacation, so that I can compare its awesomeness to the awesomeness of my own holiday. Please continue misspelling everything so that my snobbish friends and I can mock your idiocy. Please continue updating your relationship status, bad and good, so that I can currently track who is dating out of their league.

Go forth and create Facebook goodness.

*Note: Sure I can block you on my Newsfeed, but if I don’t want to see your shit, I might as well un-friend you.