Thursday, October 8th, 2009
I was debating whether or not I should write about this because it’s a little controversial, but hey let’s just have a friendly debate. My intention here is really not to offend anyone so please don’t get your knickers in a twist. With that said, here goes:
I can’t take all the preaching on Facebook. There, I said it. I have a few friends who are Christians (I’m not sure if they fall into the ‘born again’ category) and every single Facebook status update is a lengthly prayer about how much they love their Jesus.
Now, let me make this clear; I’m not anti-Jesus, I’m just a catholic. We’re taught that your relationship with the Lord is a very personal thing. I get that in other faiths the aim is to ‘spread the word’ but I think there’s a time and a place for everything. I’m not sure Facebook is the appropriate place to be whoring out your faith. I go on Facebook to keep in touch with friends and check out their pictures, not to get slapped in the face with a bible and preached at.
I think it’s wonderful that these people have a relationship with God, I really do, but if I were to become a Satan worshipper, for example, and post lengthly odes to Satan in my status updates, I’m sure my Christian friends would be up in arms and the first people to call me out on it. So, in that same vain, you have to appreciate that not everyone wants to hear your message about how much you love Christ.
The appropriate place for you to spout endlessly about your love for the Jesus would be in church on Sundays. Plain and simple. For once, I just want to see one of my hardcore Christian friends have a status update of ‘Going out to dinner’ rather than ‘The Lord hath blessed me with the ability to walk and catch the bus to this restaurant where we will feast upon all his gracious delights. Thank you Jesus for all you have done for me, I’m not worthy to receive your gifts blah blah blah.’ We get it! You’re thankful! I think even Jesus would be saying ‘Enough already!’
I’d like to commend my Christian peeps, because it’s hard to have faith in anything these days, so more power to you. My only point is, you can’t be offended that not everyone is on the same page as you and you may want to pick a more appropriate forum for your worship, you know, like Church.
So, what say you? Am I out of line for finding preachy updates kind of offensive or do you roll with me on this one?
Tuesday, February 24th, 2009
All my lapsed catholics in the house, put your hands up!
Whoa, there’s quite the crowd of you out there. But that’s good. I’m amongst friends, I see.
As I’m sure you all know (or maybe not, because you probably don’t have one of those weird Catholic calendars they used to give out at church), tomorrow is Ash Wednesday, which symbolizes the beginning of Lent. In a nutshell, it is the time of year when we give shit up.
*Just a quick side note about Ash Wednesday. Back in the day, before I had bangs, I used to dread Ash Wednesday. The priest’s big thumb coming at you and drilling that ash into your forehead. And no one wanted to be the one to wipe it off, because then you look like you don’t love Jesus. So, you have to walk around all day with a dirty forehead. You’d see other catholic kids around town with their dirty foreheads and exchange knowing glances, give each other a nod, show your dirty foreheaded solidarity for your brethren.*
So, even though the church may not see me as often these days, I always feel an obligation to give something up for lent and always struggle to decide what I should give up. So I thought I’d ask for assistance from my dear readers. Here’s what made my shortlist of possible things to give up this year. Picture forty days and forty nights without them:
I did this one a few years ago and Lord knows (literally), it was hard. I don’t drink, smoke, do any kind of drugs – lets face it, I’m damn near perfect. Diet Coke is my one vice. Actually, I’m officially taking it off the list. It’s not fair to do that to myself. I did it for you once Jesus, I don’t know if I can do it again.
Yeah right. Like a British chick can give up tea for more than a few hours.
The word ‘motherbitch’
Hmm, there’s potential for me to give this up, but all it’s gonna take is for one ordinary member of the public to step on my shoe or ask me for directions and I can fall right off that wagon. Nix that. Next.
This one appeals to me. If I give up working for forty days, it’ll really give me time to reflect on The Jesus. Now, if Jesus could sprinkle a little divine intervention upon me and deposit a larger pay cheque directly into my account while this happens, I will roll with Jesus full time. Kind of. Sort of. Ish?
Lusting after Jon Stewart
This would be hard, but maybe if I wasn’t always fighting to stay awake to get a glimpse of Mr Stewart on The Daily Show, other elements of my life my fall into place, like sleep, for example.
My winter boots
Alright, who am I kidding. Giving up the winter boots wouldn’t be a stretch at all. And upon reflection, I don’t see Jesus giving up his Birkenstocks for me. That settles it – the diet coke stays!
So, any suggestions? What will you give up?
Wednesday, September 24th, 2008
Ever feel like there’s moments in life where you’re own words just aren’t enough and you need a little more power? Is there something lacking when you’re experiencing moments of joy, anger, frustration or elation? Then may I present to you, the Pocket Gospel Choir.
The Pocket Gospel Choir can be whipped out anytime, anywhere, for your convenience. It’s particularly handy when you want to cuss someone out. Sure, they may seem strange due to their Jesus-lovin’ tendencies and all, but even Jesus got mad sometimes. The Pocket Gospel Choir can add strength to your cuss like you wouldn’t believe. You can program them to back you up on certain phrases or to just freestyle. For example, when giving your boss a piece of your mind, you might throw out a phrase like:
“You’re an ignorant, incompetent wanker.”
And the Pocket Gospel Choir will pop up and chime in:
“Yes. She called you a waaaaaanker. Oooooohhhhh yes!” Then do some steady “Oooohhhh, ahhhhhhh”s and when the altercation is over, they’ll bust out some soul claps for good measure.
When you’re looking to make someone feel guilty or upset – Pocket Gospel Choir is a dream come true. I challenge you to not get choked up when you hear the harmonies crescendo into an ultra power moment.
Just got your tax return cheque? How about a verse and a chorus of Oh Happy Day?
Imagine being at the gym and lagging some energy – just break out the Pocket Gospel Choir to give you some musical accompaniment and egg you on.
The possibilities are endless. Turn every moment into a Power Moment.
The Pocket Gospel Choir can be yours for just $19.99 plus shipping and handling (what? Jesus ain’t free bitches!)
Tuesday, February 12th, 2008
When I saw Amy Winehouse’s Grammy performance, I damn near gave her a standing ovation in my bedroom.
I interviewed Amy in 2003 while working for a music mag in London. We were profiling her as an up-and-coming artist. I remember meeting her at a little spot next to the Jazz Café in Camden. I don’t remember much of the interview, other than it being a refreshing conversation. She was a fresh voice, in every sense. New on the scene, she’d clearly had no media training. She spoke her mind on any and everything and she was hilarious.
Her first album didn’t do much. When the second one came out and started to build steam, it was sad to see she had to become a complete train wreck before getting the recognition she deserves.
Her personal life, played out daily in the brutal British tabloids, seemed to go from bad to worse last year. Professionally, she didn’t seem to show up to any gigs without being intoxicated and it was a miracle if she actually finished a show.
So her performance at the Grammys Sunday night, was a milestone. She looked sober. She smiled. She performed. She danced (not very well, but she did, nonetheless), She had all her teeth and she even appeared to have brushed that rats nest of a beehive.
Probably the best moment was when she won Record of the Year and gave the oh-so-classy shout out; “For my Blake, incarcerated.”
But even if she hadn’t done any of that, there’s no arguing with that voice.
*Quick side bar: For all the shit they’ve had to put up with, her backing singers should totally get their own gig. C’mon, scale of 1-10, how adorable are they?!
(Sorry, couldn’t find the video to link here).
‘Canadian’ is the new N word
I read this interesting piece about how in some of the southern states, ‘Canadian’ is the new racial slur, which I found pretty hilarious.
On the up side, I guess they finally figured out that saying the N word is a pretty sure fire way to get your ass kicked/get a personal visit from Al Sharpton. But why replace it with ‘Canadian’ of all things?
In the article they use the example of black people being bad tippers at a restaurant, so the staff will say they have a table of ‘Canadians’. If we’re talking about bad tipping, shouldn’t the racial slur be ‘Brits’? But as I have dual British/Canadian citizenship, I guess I’d be offended either way.
A Sign From On High
Maybe I was wrong. Maybe there is a God. I went into my favorite shoe shop the other day and saw that some shoes I’d been stalking had (much to my delight) made their way into the 50% off section. And they had my size.
If that isn’t the big JC looking down from heaven saying ‘treat yourself, bitch’, I don’t know what is.
These Betsy Johnson numbers have a 4 1/2 inch heel, plaid uppers, fushia pink soles and black patent toes and heels. (That description makes them sound hideous, but I assure you, they are the very definition of fabulous).
I had asked the man upstairs to send me Marc Jacobs flats, but as everyone says, the Lord works in mysterious ways.
High five to Jesus!
Tuesday, February 5th, 2008
I’m catholic. I’d never lump myself in as a religious nut, but I did have a healthy belief in and relationship with the Big Man.
I can’t pin point exactly when I started to lose faith, but I’d say it’s been slowly eroding over the past eight years.
During that time, my life has been one long, ridiculous, almost comical at some points, series of bad luck and struggles. Don’t get me wrong; I’ve had a pretty great life all things considered. I’ve been enjoying the ride. But there have been seemingly endless, bleak, heartwrenchingly difficult stretches, where it seems that the universe has conspired to crap on me daily. I’ve had a ridiculous amount of bad luck.
I did at one time believe that belief in JC would help me through the troubled times, but honestly, it just hasn’t.
Church used to be enjoyable for me, though my mother and I weren’t exactly model parishioners. Once, as the priest was delivering his homily, my mother noticed that one of the gargoyles on the ceiling bore a striking resemblance to one of the prominent female members of the clergy. Hilarity ensued when she shared this information with me and we spent the duration of his speech muffling our laughter. The scolding look the priest gave us pretty much guaranteed us one-way tickets to hell.
After the Lord’s Prayer, when you’re told to offer each other the sign of peace (a handshake), my mother and I would pound fists and high five each other. Hey, the Catholic Church needs an update, we were merely trying to bring it.
I don’t even bother praying anymore. I feel that God has, quite simply, forgotten about me. I can’t say I blame Him. If He and I were to compare ‘to do’ lists, clearly He has a lot more going on than me. Prayers for the end of war or world hunger seem a little weighty, so I try to start Him off with the easy things, like enough money to buy those Marc Jacobs flats, for example. But, as He was more of a Birkinstock guy, maybe He just doesn’t appreciate my taste?
When, on the very rare occasion that something does actually go my way, people say; ‘Thank God’. Well, frankly, why should I? I don’t think divine intervention has much to do with one tiny glimmer of hope at the end of a long, dark, crap filled tunnel. If I’ve gotten anything in life it’s been because of my own hard work and my parents encouragement. If anything, I should be in church praising them every Sunday.
But, I ain’t mad at JC. Maybe we’re just going through a rough patch. Perhaps when He’s cleared up the war and world hunger thing, he can throw a couple of favors my way. In the meantime, all praise, fists pounds and high fives go out to my parents.
Amen to that.