Okay.... You know when you see a cougar at a bar?
(Yes, I know this is mean.)
Anyway, cougar at a bar. Sorry, two cougars at a bar, because cougars rarely travel alone. They are wearing something painfully horrifying, like white jeans and a vest as a shirt. You feel bad for them while hoping you are not going to become one. You take a quick look down to make sure your waist flab is covered by your shirt and jeans, not out there for the world to see. Anyway, besides the point. The point is, you see the cougars flirting with guys who are way younger, who are often blinded by drink, and the whole thing is just icky and embarrassing for all present. Also, reason enough to never let tequila pass your lips again.
On that note, I offer you this, which I assume happened sans tequila, but shouldn't have:
On the likelihood YouTube has wrested this video from its site, simply know Tyra Banks made the star of Twilight bite her neck. On daytime television. Yick.
Somehow, my blog was excluded from this list. Perhaps I should be happy, as this is sort of confirmation my blog is not all about chick lit. Or, I should be less self-centred for three seconds and recognize these here words are not an international cultural phenomenon in the making.
Um.... moving on again.
Today was a beautiful day in Edmonton. I'm not sure who needs to know this on the record, but it really was. It was the kind of day that made you feel good about winter (probably because it was like 7C), and a little excited about Christmas (even though Christmas decorations seem to be throwing up everywhere).
To me, one of the most fascinating aspects of Christmas is its romance -- not like sexual/love romance, but historic/times lost romance. I'm thinking of the way Anne describes a snow fall on Prince Edward Island over a hundred years ago, a snow fall completely unsullied by exhaust fumes and the constant background music of cars going past your apartment windows.
So, I offer this review, because nothing makes Christmas like Little Women.