Just finished watching the first half of season one of Kirstie Alley's "Fat Actress". Slightly uncomfortable at times, but totally relatable (which may be why it was slightly uncomfortable). I mean she's brilliant. Take the one thing that's holding you back and make it work to get you where you want to be. Forget waiting. The woman manufactured a comeback, or at least more money in her bank account. I'm envious. I need to find a way to make all this (*she looks around the kitchen, Saturday night at 10*) work harder for me.
Very superficial, but workable, mostly because of just how much I enjoy self-deprecating humour. But then, just as I fire up the old comp I see that Chuck Cadman has died. Chuck, in case you have forgotten, was that lonely (but powerful) MP who stood in Parliament back in May to prevent the government from falling. Or perhaps more to the point, to prevent an early election that no one was very interested in. There he stood, at the back of the seats, jeans, earring, ponytail, chewing gum. Brings new meaning to the label "independent". He died of the big C. My first thought was how shameful it was that the man had to spend some of his last days ferrying off to Ottawa, away from his family, because of a bunch of $$ that was in turn ferried around to different pockets in Quebec a few years ago. Very stupid. Very wasteful. But then again, how do I know, since it did seem that he was enjoying the moment, at least in his sneaking in the back door of the Commons and avoiding reporters. That's Chuck, leave us all hanging, waiting to see. Yes, Mr. Cadman has manufactured his entry into the history books. And I don't say that in a negative way in the least. Good on him. I only wish he could have stayed with us longer.
I also got the latest O mag when I was out getting the DVD. Inside, Oprah interviews the wonder boy of the moment, Lance Armstrong. He survived the big C, by some miracle. The title of his book, "It's not about the bike" is what sold me on reading it. It's not about the bike, it's about steering, which is often the hardest thing to remember.
Very superficial, but workable, mostly because of just how much I enjoy self-deprecating humour. But then, just as I fire up the old comp I see that Chuck Cadman has died. Chuck, in case you have forgotten, was that lonely (but powerful) MP who stood in Parliament back in May to prevent the government from falling. Or perhaps more to the point, to prevent an early election that no one was very interested in. There he stood, at the back of the seats, jeans, earring, ponytail, chewing gum. Brings new meaning to the label "independent". He died of the big C. My first thought was how shameful it was that the man had to spend some of his last days ferrying off to Ottawa, away from his family, because of a bunch of $$ that was in turn ferried around to different pockets in Quebec a few years ago. Very stupid. Very wasteful. But then again, how do I know, since it did seem that he was enjoying the moment, at least in his sneaking in the back door of the Commons and avoiding reporters. That's Chuck, leave us all hanging, waiting to see. Yes, Mr. Cadman has manufactured his entry into the history books. And I don't say that in a negative way in the least. Good on him. I only wish he could have stayed with us longer.
I also got the latest O mag when I was out getting the DVD. Inside, Oprah interviews the wonder boy of the moment, Lance Armstrong. He survived the big C, by some miracle. The title of his book, "It's not about the bike" is what sold me on reading it. It's not about the bike, it's about steering, which is often the hardest thing to remember.
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