I have an issue to ‘a dress’

Remember ladies –




You can work hard at your job, your academics, your athletic endeavours; you can scale mountains, or travel all across the globe; you can learn foreign languages, form amazing friendships, hide out in the woods, or start a billion dollar company; you can cook brilliant meals, and read all the books, watch all the movies, or write all the plays.

But none of that matters.

Nor do any of these things even come close to the importance of finding a man who will eventually ask you to marry him.

Because if a man doesn’t ask you to spend the rest of your life with him, that means you will never be able to make YOUR MOST IMPORTANT FASHION PURCHASE OF YOUR LIFE.

Which, of course, is your WEDDING DRESS.

Not that amazing suit you scrimped and saved up for, in the lead up to your biggest and most important job interview.

Not that amazing pair of shoes you waited forever to go on sale and snatched them the moment you could afford them, because they make you feel like a superhero when you wear them.

Not that concert t-shirt you bought in grade nine and then proceeded to wear every day for a year, because that event, up until that point, was the most seminal music experience of your life.

Not the dress you bought for your grandfather’s funeral, or the pair of runners you bought for your first big road race, or those yoga pants that make you feel invincible, or those sunglasses that make you look like an international spy.

Not that amazing sports bra that you adamantly wash by hand because you fear it wearing out, or that ten dollar sundress you wore all last summer because you will never find anything so cute and comfortable for the rest of your days.

None of these things matter.

What a second –

*looks around*


How are we still dealing with this crazy bullshit?

A woman’s wedding dress is not the most important fashion purchase of her life.

Not unless a masked killer is actually holding a gun to her head yelling “IMMA MURDER YOU UNLESS YOU PURCHASE A WEDDING DRESS!!!!”

Then, I am willing to agree that it was a pretty important buy.

But only then!

And this is coming from a married woman. Who loved both her dress, and her wedding.

Not to mention that I LOVE love. Like, a lot.

And I am all for people coming together to support, celebrate, and embrace this part of life.

But this whole conceit, this long-standing mythology that a wedding is somehow day NUMERO UNO for all the LAIDEEZ makes me want to rip all the hair from my head.

What kind of message do you think this is sending to little girls? And little boys?

Could you imagine a piece on a man’s “most important fashion purchase”?

The idea is so far-fetched I am having a hard time even imaging what it could possibly be.

But goodness knows, it sure is easy to promote the age old trope of the overarching, MEGA HUGE importance of a wedding dress. I mean, if it wasn’t, why the heck would we still be publishing utter crap, like the above photographed article?

Which is basically can be summed up in the following equation: WOMAN+WEDDING = LIFE GOAL – ACHIEVED!


Of course, this is not me saying that women should not love their wedding dresses.

Oh no.

I’m just saying that it’s imperative for us to remember that: ALL WOMEN = so much more than an “I DO.”

Ya know what I mean?

Or should I be saying –

Do you?

Laugh it up! Laugh it up fuzzball!


First things first –

I am internet famous (kind of!)

Just check out this bio on little ol’ me over at the comedy festival’s website.


And in the immortal words of Rod Stewart: Tonight’s the night!

(Only, you know, without all the sexual stuff.)

Now, excuse me while I jump up and down like the excitable jumping thing that I am.

Friday Fry-up time!

Well that’s offensive.

I was buying my sister a birthday card the other day in Hallmark when I espied these:



First of all, let’s get one thing straight.

Porn is porn is porn.

por·nog·ra·phy /pôrˈnägrəfē/ Noun

Printed or visual material containing the explicit description or display of sexual organs or activity.

This whole idea that women somehow get off on seeing dudes BUY FLOWERS or WIPE A BABY’S BUM is so unbelievably offensive TO BOTH WOMEN AND MEN that it makes me head spin.

Oh yeah…seeing that guy ACT LIKE A HUMAN BEING makes me so hot…I mean, holy crap – a man COOKING!? AND CLEANING TOO?! HOW SEXY IS THAT!?

I need a cold shower just thinking about it!

Like, cuz, those things are normally just for the womenz to do, RIGHT PEEPS?



Just no.

American beauty?

Are you dudes watching House of Cards?

Here are ye olde House of Mad, we are big Netflix connoisseurs and as such we’ve recently started watching this program.

It’s a show that was actually made for Netflix, which is pretty darn cool in and out of itself. I imagine that as viewership of traditional cable continues to drop, more shows will go the way of the live-streaming route.

(Allowing viewers to binge-watch at their leisure.)

Anyway, back to the show. Am I the only person who thinks that Mr. Spacey is a bit of a psychopath? I mean, the dude comes across as creepy as heck.

Also, I never thought I would hate someone as much as Walter White (Breaking Bad), but Francis Underwood is giving him a pretty good run for his money.

And that’s saying quite a bit.

But don’t let that detour you – if you have access to this show do check it out. It’s a pretty good glimpse into how morally bankrupt and incestuous our political systems truly are, not to mention how we’ll probably never know 99.9 per cent of the machinations that take place behind the capital’s closed doors.

Looking at what these horrible (fictional) people do, that gives me one good case of the shivers.

Sister, sister.

Today is my beauty cat of a little sister’s birthday!

She is a firecracker, a butt-kicker, an amazing chef, and a lass who can rock a vintage dress like no other.

I wish so very much that I could be with her today to celebrate this auspicious occasion, but as I cannot, I send her all my biggest and best birthday wishes.

Also, we are very good looking when we hang out together:


Like, the most.

So there you have it my darlings!

I will let you all know how the show goes tonight.

And in return, I’d love to hear how everything is going for you all, wherever in the world that may be.

I’m a mouse, duh!

Halloween has officially jumped the shark.

Exhibit A:

SEXY BANANA!!! http://www.yandy.com/Sexy-Banana-Costume.php

Exhibit B:

SEXY CHEWBACCA!!! http://www.yandy.com/Sci-Fi-Furry-Costume.php

Exhibit C:

SEXY MARY POPPINS!!! http://www.yandy.com/spoonful-of-sugar-costume

And so it goes.

I am actually apt to believe that this company is just trolling us all, and that their employees fill their days playing an endless game of “Sexy Madlibs” in an effort to come up with the most ridiculous costumes as possible.

In fact, because it looks so easy I think I’m going to play too.

Let’s start:
















Seriously, I want this job. Not only is it completely bonkers, it is great, great fun.

Now, I’m not going to sit here and pretend that I’ve never gone out on Halloween dressed as a slightly more tarted-up version of my normal self.

In first year of my undergrad, I went as a the Short Skirt, Long Jacket girl from Cake’s seminal work “Short Skirt, Long Jacket” (not my finest work, but definitely my most last minute); and the year after I was some sort of trampy vampire (although mostly I was stoked to stomp around in my new Doc Martin boots, flashing my sweet fangs to random passerbys.)

But mostly, I’ve taken advantage of Halloween to dress as either dudes from different decades or Hermione from Harry Potter.


I’ve been a 1920s golfer, an Extra Extra! paperboy, and Jerry Sizzler (a clearly insane man, dressed as a woman.)

This year, if I could actually get my act together I would LOVE to go as Psy (although I would have to make sure that I pulled it off and didn’t veer into 1970s prom territory.)

So where exactly am I going with this?

I’m not exactly sure. I mean, on one hand, I feel as though it isn’t my right to stand up and say that women cannot dress the way that they want – on Halloween or any other day of the year.

But on the other hand, the whole “sexy for sexy sake” trope really drives me nuts.  It’s lazy and demeaning and ridiculous.

And yet, I also cannot help but keep going back to the line: In Girl World, Halloween is the one night a year when a girl can dress like a total slut and no other girls can say anything about it. (From Tina Fey’s brilliant film Mean Girls.)

So. This is true, yes.  But what do we do with it?

Let’s talk it through.

For three hundred and sixty-four days of the year women are judged and shamed every day based on their mode of dress (whether it’s too sexy or not sexy enough).

However, for one night each year, some kind of messed up amnesty is called, and a woman can put on whatever deranged outfit she chooses (let’s say, a sexy hamburger costume), and for the next five or so hours have the opportunity to subvert current social norms and attitudes, because sexy now IS the expected and accepted norm, come Halloween night.

To me, this is some messed up crap.

Instead of, oh, I don’t know, making a concerted effort to do away with the incredibly damaging expectations and implications we as a society have placed on a woman’s appearance, mode of dress, and sexuality, we create a night where it’s okay for a woman to be “sexy” and dress in utterly rubbish costumes (but just this one time!) because it’s only make believe and not real life.

Remember ladies: it’s okay to be a slut as long as you’re not really a slut!


This ludicrous binary of all or nothing sexuality – where it is important to be both chaste and sexual, the Madonna and the whore – is brutal, and restrictive, and archaic, and so alive and thriving it boggles my mind.

And it messes me up because I get all shirty and confused wondering if I am actually okay with women wearing these kind of outfits? Do they really want to wear that kind of costume or do they just think they should wear something like that? Are these choices symptoms of patriarchy or they conscious efforts to subvert it?

For the love of Pete, someone pass me a mini Twix bar.

The long and short of it is – I don’ t have the answer. So I will finish by saying this:

Ladies: Dress up however you wish, and remember – when the clock strikes twelve on November 1, you won’t turn into a pumpkin (SEXY! Or otherwise.)

No matter what you wear, you will still be the same person, the same heart, the same brain, the same soul. A costume, makeup, a mode of dress – none of these things can change that, no matter what anyone (or society) tries to tell you.

Now, if you excuse me, I think I may have just figured out the perfect costume. This year, I will definitely be going as a SEXY CAN OF WORMS!

Now where’s my can opener…

When we were good

Hi friends,

I’m deviating a bit from our regular scheduled program because of the rage-out I am currently undergoing.

Today, in rapid succession, I read three newspaper articles, each of which could have been nominated for the most “inflammatory, intolerant and overwhelmingly ignorant article” of the year award.

I don’t know why I do these things, because it certainly isn’t for my health – physical, mental (or otherwise.) I must be one wacko masochist.

And I’m not going to lie; my heart is feeling really darn heavy at the moment.  These pieces have really got me down about the state of the world, and in particular, about my place as a woman in a society where institutionalized sexism and homophobia is not only the norm, and therefore accepted, but also propagated by large scale organizations that people look to as pillars of our “communities,” which just further reinforces these already cancerous and destructive ideals.

It’s actually at times like this that I feel as though I can never have children because I can’t imagine bringing them into a world where they would have to be subjected to this crap.

This is how I feel about the world right now.

My exact feelings on the matter can be summed up in a one line e-mail I sent to a friend:


*brain explosion*

Okay. Breathe.

1. Dear Christie Blachtford.   WHY ARE YOU SO SAD AND ANGRY?  Seriously, what is your damage? Why must you constantly write about ridiculously-negative-to-the-point-that-I-think-this-HAS-to-be-performace-art things?  Does the Grinch actually exist, and if so, are you doing his PR?

Also, meditate on this thought for a second: if one of your greatest sources of strife in your life is coming across young boys (who are excited to see each other) hugging each other YOU ARE DOING PRETTY WELL.


Seriously, the entire female population of Saudi Arabia just collectively rolled their eyes at you before exclaiming, “LADY, WHAT THE SHIT ARE YOU COMPLAINING ABOUT? WE LIVE IN A COUNTRY WHERE WE AREN’T EVER ALLOWED TO DRIVE A BLASTED CAR!!!”

I am so incredibly exhausted of the whole “when men were men” fallacy – as if there is some naturally prescribed recipe for what “makes a man.”  After reading Ms. Blatchfords blechfest of an article (see what I did there?) I can make a pretty informed guess as to what she thinks are the ingredients:

  • Axe body spray
  • Budweiser
  • Flannel
  • Beard growth
  • General misogyny
  • No tear ducts

Her whole argument is not only insulting to women (proposing that feminine traits are somehow lesser than the (long lost) masculine traits, particularly when embodied by a man) but also completely offensive to men!

Let’s use a seasonally appropriate simile, to help Ms. Blatchford understand the very simple, innate concept that MEN, (JUST LIKE WOMEN) ARE LIKE SNOWFLAKES. YAY!

Each one is an individual, with different traits, mannerisms, likes, dislikes, passions, ideas, goals (bloody hell, I cannot believe I am actually writing this or that THIS NEEDS EXPLAINING IN THE 21st CENTURY) – the list goes on and on.

The archaic notion that a man needs to be X in order to past some kind of Dude Test is silly AND CRAZY. Being a man isn’t like being a bush pilot.  You don’t need a licence.

And if you`re really wondering what makes a man?  The Dude here (that’s what you call him) and the Big Lebowksi have the answer for you:

2. Pat Hickey.  I don’t have too much to say to you other than you probably need to go away.  To Baffin Island.  For about forty-years of hard labour. That might just be enough time for you to think about the things you say and how utterly obtuse you ideas are about what it means to be a victim of sexual assault.

What is even worse is that you have a platform to spew your prejudiced bile.  You are like an internet troll that has somehow figured out a way to get paid to piss people off.

You need to know, need to understand, that it is attitudes like yours that are one of the biggest reasons that so many victims are unwilling to come forward and accuse their abusers.  Simply put: PEOPLE ARE AFRAID OF BEING BLAMED FOR THEIR ASSAULT BECAUSE VICTIMS ARE BLAMED ALL THE DAMN TIME.

You say so yourself that you have never been assaulted.  So what makes you think you could ever cast judgement on someone who has?

The old adage goes that you can’t judge someone until they walk a mile in their shoes, so Patty ol’ Boy, I think you should thank your lucky stars you haven’t ever had to endure that long march.

And you should thank them every day.

3. Dear Chicago Blackhawks organization – When you have a complete tool bag like Dave Bolland play for your team, and he goes on the radio and shoots his mouth off, delighting his listeners with a lovely array of sexist, misogynistic crap, it really looks as though your organization openly endorses these antiquated, dangerous and violent gender norms.

The only other thing I have to ask is:



Do none of these idiots have mothers? Sisters? Wives? Daughters?

Do they respect these women? Do they love them? CAN they love them when they do crap like this EVERY DAY OF THEIR LIVES?

The thing that really gets me is that as much as I hate that this happens, it’s always women who come out looking the worst because at the base of it all – we (women) are the insult.  The punch line.

Our looks, our strengths, our intelligence, our capability, our interests, our passions, our friends, our choices, OUR EVERYTHING – REFLECT POORLY ON A MAN .


This enrages me ever more when I think about how the Williams sisters (in tennis) are often called men, or manly, or


brothers, but it never has the same effect as when (for instance) that idiot Bolland calls the Sedin twins girls.  Because the Williams (as women) are still at fault for not being girly enough – manly characteristics are not  innately bad – they are in fact the socially prescribed superior characteristics, but for a woman to have these traits and not look like how a WOMAN should look, well, that just doesn’t jive.


Either way, it’s either the female sex, or the female herself that is at fault, and ultimately, not good enough.


Well, on that note, I’ve definitely just convinced myself to get me to a nunnery, and stat. I may also never read a fricken newspaper again for all the days of my life.

Dear Genie of the Lamp – tell me something good so I don’t have to cry?