Musical Car Crashes & the Slutty Snooze Button

I’ve gotten into the habit of getting up early and…well, mostly I’ve been going to bed around 9:00pm, and waking up at 6:00am, because we are still sleeping on the air mattress in the living room, and Benjamin likes to watch breakfast television while he has his toast and coffee.  While I was sick, I would toodle off to the bedroom and flop down on the bed for another hour or so.  But then I was getting pretty slutty with the snooze button.

wake up smilinh

Officially committing to physically abandoning the bed happened around 7:15am. Technically, I should be out the door around 7:45am, but I get pretty slutty with my E-T-D’s as well, so there’s a very solid chance that when the 8:00am news starts, I am still on the highway.  The good news is I am very up to date on my current affairs, which is altogether enlightening and depressing.  After this quick run-through of all the death, war, crime, injustice and corruption, I park the mini-van and head off to spent the day with children.


And bless all these little ones, running around like drunk little midgets, in tiny little pants, crying for their mothers and calling their yoghurt “yogies”. You gotta wonder what the government, environment, the general state of humanity will be by the time these slobbering, sticky fingered, little yogie spillers are my age.  And then…there’s that crushing responsibility of having any part in molding young minds.  And you really wish you had not been so slutty with the snooze button, and had started the day on a brighter note.


Lately, I’ve been up at 630am, and it’s pretty blissful to have time in the morning.  After a leisurely coffee, I putter about, listen to the radio, and do a few housekeeping duties, or answer a few emails.  But then I get Girls Gone Wild  with my spare time, and then I have to do an Olympic speed walk through the parking lot to the minivan, and am made to face the news again.  But, I’m far more relaxed, less rushed, and I can take things like, oh the collapse of the American government, with a bigger grain of salt.


Things are achieved before work, and then I get home for a half-hour around lunchtime, and I also take care of a little business then as well.  So, come time when the work day is done, I can come home and have spare time on my hands.  Time well spent, I think, drinking a rather large glass of red wine while Googling Ryan Gosling memes.

ryan golsing, sewing

My husband is working late, and I am busy with “work”, which means getting increasingly drunk, while blogging and perving on Ryan Gosling photos.


Oh Ryan.  It gives you a little faith in this dark world, seeing  things like this.


Don’t worry Ryan, I’m not going anywhere…I’ll just bring the wine bottle into the office so I never have to leave you again.  Or…about ten seconds before my bladder bursts.  Finally Benjamin called.  He wasn’t coming home for a while as he was going to the pub with a workmate.  This is exciting news.  Now was I off the hook for making dinner, and was free to cyber stalker Mr Gosling and then do some drunk blogging.  It’s also nice that Benjamin is meeting people, and making friends.  I do wonder how men approach one another and make friends.  And I want for my husband what any woman does.  I want him to meet a nice young man.


I was pleased to hear that he was going out.  But I hoped it wouldn’t turn out to be one of those “Hangover” type situation, where he calls me from a drunk tank in Tijuana. He had committed to staying up until 10:00pm to watch the very special of Glee, where Cory Monteith‘s “Finn” dies.


I don’t really even watch “Glee”, this show is like that person you knew in high-school that you never talked to but always smiled at.  Yet I am so curious as to how they are going to handle this situation.  It will be like a train wreck of music and emotion. A musical car crash.  And I am going to be there with a box of tissues and whatever is in the bottom of the wine bottle.    So this can mean one of two things.  That Benjamin has met a nice man and is chatting about men stuff over a few pints at the pub, or that he made the story up to avoid watching “Glee” and is sitting alone at the bar while I sob myself into a Glee-induced Coma.

alonein-a-barHe’s since come home…and wondering where that delicious stir fry I promised I’d make, while I was commending his decision to go out for a pint.  When I was fresh from the grocery store and feeling like a productive wife.  Before the red wine and drunk blogging.  And now it’s nearly 8:00pm and I should have been to bed hours ago.  Damn you Ryan Gosling, you did this to me damn you!  I know I said I would stay here forever, but I’ve got a pressing stir-fry. But thanks for the dreamy eyes and positive affirmations.  They need to put these on the ceiling at the dentist and gynecologist offices.  Because sometimes, your spirits just need a lift.

ryan gosling glassesImages Courtesy of Google

Crying Shame

What a pop culture buzz kill, I go away from the internet for one night, and the cutest boy from “Glee” overdoses and dies in a Vancouver hotel room.


Argh, that shit is so sad to me.  This is Heath Ledger all over again.  And you know, I call him a ‘kid’ but he’s exactly my age.  It feels like a blip, and then…it’s gone? Bummer.  Needless to say, people are really going ape-shit over this one.  It’s always difficult when attractive, talented people die.  It’s easy to criticize this fact, but it’s true.  It’s fine, I’m not judging, that kind of thing saddens me as well, but I can appreciate how someone could flip through a newspaper and say “Yeah…so?” We do tend to lose perspective in the news, in a world of civil war, genocide, rape, poverty, natural disasters–where unspeakable atrocities are happening right this minute, and we all are politely aware, but then boy oh boy, watch out, Finn from “Glee” dies and there is an unexpected emotional impact.  Why? Because it’s a singular tragedy.  It’s a fucking waste.  An unbelievable waste of potential.  And yes, while it is being deemed a tragic accident, his actions were a bit like Russian Roulette. There was always a bullet waiting in the chamber.  Judgements are flying, because of how he died, that somehow he should be exempt from compassion because it was self inflicted.  Sadly this will be his definition…the guy who had it all, who then died of a heroin overdose in the fancy hotel….

I keep pausing.  I keep trying to wrap my brain around the choices that lead us down ill-fated avenues.  It’s just a crying shame, that’s all.


As a general rule, I don’t follow “Glee”.  I’ve seen the first few seasons and saw a few out-of-order episodes on a very long plane ride.  (why do they do that by the way? Scattered episodes of a series, what good does that do me on a ten-hour Auckland to L.A?)  But it’s adorable, and the singing is fun, and I cry at least once an episode.  In New Zealand, I once left mates at a pub to go home, curl up on the couch to watch “Glee”, and it was wonderful.  But I wouldn’t call myself a ‘gleek’.


Still, Monteith’s death is the perfect mix for a media frenzy.  It’s fascinating stuff.  There are so many articles. So much speculation.  Final moments, last sightings, crystal clear 20/20 hindsight.  And the tweets, my god the tweets!  There are a lot of tweens out there that could fill the Grand Canyon with grief.  Poor @GleesAllINeed, tweeted that she was just realizing that life…”Glee”, twitter, will never be the same.  When I came across the tweet:

“I’m not even close to being emotionally ready for when lea michele makes her first tweet about cory monteith

I didn’t so much smirk, but I rolled my eyes, with an Oh puh-lease when I realized I was a woman, hunched over the computer, well past midnight, who had gotten distracted from research and writing and reading misspelled tweets about Cory Monteith’s ‘heroine’ overdose. And then I think to myself “Oh my god, neither am I“.  Uh oh, here I am, throwing stones from my glass house.  Time to back away slowly from the computer.  But then, the next night and my brain is still pressing on this tragedy; and our obsession with celebrity, that some girl is tweeting about missing someone she’s never met.  But you do, in a sense know who these people are.  You turn to particular programs and characters for comfort or amusement, and I reckon Gleeks are a sensitive, emotional sort right out of the gate.   In a way, the characters belong to you.  And therefore, while I’m sure that @GleesAllINeed is legitimately struggling with losing a television character and celebrity, he was in fact a real person, somebody’s talented and troubled son.  And he has left behind so many people that have to live with the “what if’s”.  He didn’t invent a thing, dying the way he did, there’s a long line of those ahead of him.  Those who could not bear the weight of success, or was unable to exorcise the ghosts that haunt your insides and refuse to let you go.  And you make a choice, and for some, it’s the end of the road.  And you wish it could be different.  But it’s not.

Cory-cory-monteith-14913622-1280-1024All Images Courtesy of Google