The Eh! Team

Thursday, August 18th, 2011 – A little cheese with that whine?

Well. There’s some rusty old saying about how you can’t please all the people all the time and you can’t please an ornery Torontonian any of the time, or I could have just made that up. I’ll never tell! Proving my point, however, after my terribly illuminating insight into the great state of Ohio the other day, I received the following message from the wonderfully acid, prone to wordy tantrums, Toronto's own, The Real Johnson, who wished to lodge a complaint. The complaint is below, in full and PLEASE, feel free to unleash your wrath in the comments. Me, I am neutral like Switzerland. Flame on, people.

Dear Vegetable Assassin,
While I’m a frequent reader of the trials and tribulations, talking to mice, drinking of wine, and cracking of wise that’s chronicled on www.vegetableassassin.blogspot.com on a ridiculously prolific basis, there’s one trend on your otherwise fantastic blog that I simply can’t stand for anymore.
I’m talking of course about your systematic glorification of every single frigging American state.
While your efforts are noble in that you seem hell-bent on actually writing something about each and every one of them, I must object to yet another instance where American jingoism seems to be blinding a good writer from waxing philosophical on far more worthy a subject of her praise and investigation.

I’m talking of course about Canada.

Now, generally, we Canadians are content to simply be aware that our country is the greatest country on earth. We’re a humble bunch and our clean air, universal health care, ridiculously prolific national hockey programs and, of course, far, far superior beer are usually more than enough to keep us satisfied. Furthermore, not only do we not feel the need to brag, we’re also well aware of the likely consequences of too much bragging; namely one thing virtually no one wants too much of: visiting Americans.

However, as you seem to roll your praise across the United States (in an insanely out-of-sequence road trip, I might add), I can’t help but feel slighted without the inclusion of Canada. I sat quiet through North Dakota, West Virginia, Kansas, et al. Hell, I even kept my mouth shut when the craziest of all states, Florida, got its day in the sun. I chuckled as you shared ominous facts about various states and I bit my tongue about your Americentricism.

Until today.

Today was the last straw. God damn it if Ohio is worthy of almost a thousand words from the Vegetable Assassin then surely someone’s got to speak up for Canada!
I’m not going to get into tired clichés about how much better Canada is than the United States. That’s been done before and it’s certainly not what I’m trying to say here. It would be a waste of time to talk about our abundant fresh water and natural resources. It’s not helpful to note that one of these two countries is morbidly obese while the other enjoys a relatively healthy average weight. No one needs to point out that watching right-wing Americans spout off on Fox News makes even the most Liberal Canadian want to kiss our own Conservative Prime Minister on the mouth for being so open-minded by comparison.

I’m not going to do any of that.

And I won’t bore you with tales of how woefully ignorant most Americans are about The Great White North. I’ll skip the story of a friend who worked at the border and greeted people driving in from Michigan with skis on their roof in July. I’ll likewise skip the tale of a staged argument my friend waged with another friend in front of Americans about whose igloo was better.

Those types of comments are hurtful and don’t help inter-continental relations.

Similarly, if you do choose to write about Canada I hope you’ll skip the tired fact that we pronounce things properly and spell things the way the English do. Sure, they invented the language, but who’s to say whether Yanks or Brits are right when it comes to the English language. Y’all can do things however you like.

Instead, I hope you’ll give Canada a fair shake and simply share some interesting and enlightening facts about what I consider the greatest nation on earth. If fucking Ohio is worthy, surely we are too.
Sincerely,
The Real Johnson
(Here’s a little something to get you started:

• Canada is governed as a parliamentary democracy and a constitutional monarchy
• Jeopardy host Alex Trebek is Canadian.
• So is Pamela Anderson (her tits, however, are not)
• Canada's national sport is lacrosse. No one has any idea why.
• Without Canada, there would be no Star Trek: Captain Kirk and Scotty were both Canucks.
• Basketball was invented by a Canadian
• Making love to a Canadian makes you smarter and gives you shiny hair.
• We all wear plaid in the winter.)

Thank you, Mr. Johnson. When I have finished with the US, I will consider doing the great, white north a great big solid.

I’ve Got Your Buckeye State Right Here

Monday, August 15, 2011 Runny nose, scratchy throat, OH NOES I have the lurgee

I’ll preface this by saying truthfully, I’ve never BEEN to Ohio. Not even one time. I mean I’ve just never had the opportunity, I’m sure Ohio is delightful and all the jokes I’ve ever made about Cleveland in particular – a city I have never been anywhere near – are totally unfounded and it’s a beautiful, clean, healthy, breathtaking city full of shiny people and goodness. Having said that…

What do you think of when you think of Ohio? Which I’m sure you all do A LOT. Am I right? Of course I am. Maybe you think of it as the gateway to the glorious, sunshiney, cornfed midwest? Maybe it seems more….corporate. I always think of “Office Space”, not because it was set there – I don’t have a clue where it was set – but it seems like it SHOULD have taken place in Ohio.

Perhaps you live in Ohio and are already sharpening a shiv out of a wooden spoon to gauge out my eyes at the first hint of a derogatory mention of your fine state? Well don’t you get all stabby with me Miss or Sir.

Despite Ohio being a midwestern state, it pays to remember that it also borders Kentucky making areas like Cincinnati more Southern than midwestern because, seriously, have you heard people from Cincinnati talk? And rumour has it they possibly have a lower ratio of teeth than in say…Cleveland. I’m just saying. You can’t argue with geography, people. Somewhere there's a teeth:geographical region pie chart in this but luckily for you all, I'm too lazy to make it.

So Ohio. What informative drivel can I tell you? Its borders are formed by The Ohio River to the south (“Great tragedy on the River Ohio!” “What’s in my hand?” “Chapstick!” AAAAAAAGH!!!! Semi obscure movie reference although the movie's set in WV. ) and Lake Erie on its northern side and it borders the states of Indiana, Michigan, Kentucky, West Virginia, Pennsylvania and Ontario, which isn’t a state at all, because it’s a province in Canada. See? Try to keep up.

Now according to the warring gods of the internetz, a total of either seven or eight presidents hailed from Ohio (they can't agree) – although perusing the list they’re mainly the ones you’ve either never heard of or you’ve vaguely heard of but wouldn’t know their faces if they got up and slapped the smirk off your face with a wet fish. Except Ulysses S. Grant. I mean who hasn’t heard of that dude? Also? Interesting observation: You never hear of anyone calling their baby “Ulysses” anymore do you? Let's start a new trend, people.

“Get to the goddamn dirty Heathens already, Veg!” I can hear you cry. Well. Keep your panties on, blogworld. I’m getting to it. Approximately 15-17% of Ohioans are not religiously affiliated and don’t see the importance of religion. You go on with your bad selves, Ohio! Despite this, its state motto is “With God all things are possible” so thanks for that, other 83-85%! I’d tell you how it compares to the other states we’ve covered but that would require going back and researching my own entries and well…clearly that’s not going to happen as I have the attention span of a stem of rhubarb. Probably from being a dirty Heathen myself. But I think it’s in the middle range somewhere. No? Perhaps?

I was interested to find out that Ohio’s state drink is tomato juice. For real. Tomato Juice. Not even a bloody Mary! Just plain tomato juice. Who knew that was even a thing? Juice without alcohol. *shakes head in wonder*.

What other facts can I tell you that will knock your socks off regarding Ohio? That the first traffic light in the United States was erected in Cleveland? Because it was. In 1914! Or that Akron Ohio is the rubber capital of the world. I don’t know about you but I am now picturing all SORTS of hilarious things going on in Akron.

That might just be me…

What else? Oh yes:

- The first hot dog was invented in Ohio.

- 50% of the population of the United States lives within a 500 mile radius of Columbus, Ohio. For real. 50 percent. Holy shit.

- Cleveland was the world’s first city to be electrically lit. Yes really!

- The first cash register was invented in Dayton, Ohio.

See? Don’t say I never teach you anything. Now wasn't that all riveting? Aren't you happy it's over? I'M happy it's over.

Beware The Gingah Ninja

Friday, August 12th, 2011 - there may have been wine

I'm not a ninja. Sometimes I THINK I'm a ninja because I have some black leggings and a long black sweatshirt that I will sport on the treadmill on cool days and usually that would be enough to qualify me in the bad-ass stakes. That and I can do a mean ribcage kick. I think. I haven't actually tried it on a real person, so my abilities in this area could be somewhat in my head at this point. It's entirely possible that instead of the graceful, high-kicking angel of fluid movement I see inside my head, I may look more like Drew Carey attempting ballet after an evening swilling a keg of Amstel Light. But I think there's ninja in me somewhere waiting to get out. So if someone jumps out at you in the street, dressed all in black with sort of pale auburn hair and wearing one of those little eye things they give you on planes to supposedly help you sleep, it's not me in a moment of insanity, okay, it's a NINJA.

It's around now I have to admit that I may have had quite a lot of red coloured wine because it's Friday and it's....well...it's the law, no?

What have I done this week of interest? Well, honestly? Not a lot. Not much at all. I did go to the late showing of "Super 8" the other night and enjoyed it way more than I expected to. It was like someone clocked me over the head with a Rubix Cube and transported me back to the days of E.T. - a movie which incidentally makes me bawl to this day. I mean, (spoilers) THEY PUT E.T. IN A TENT AND POKE HIM WITH THINGS, people! Then when the kids rescue E.T. and finally he gets to go home and he tells Elliot he'll be RIGHT HERE? OMG. Niagara Falls. I'm not ashamed. That's one traumatic movie to put a kid through and even now it kills me.

"Super 8" had its little, "I have something in my eye" moments as well. I mean I didn't cry or anything but my eyes got a little itchy. Sniff. My eyeliner probably....

Also, I may have peed my pantaloons in certain scenes when slightly scary things were happening very loudly and very sporadically and at one point I believe I jumped so violently, I spastically threw a handful of popcorn into some lady's hood (sorry lady, but yay, bright side - free popcorn!) Loud stuff in movies makes me jumpy, what can I say? I'm an anxious person. It's my ninja senses.

On the subject of "Super 8" what's with the Fannings pumping out little pink actresses like a production line? What were the chances of birthing two pretty little blondes with remarkable acting abilities? Mrs. Fanning's vagina must be made of vitamins and hand spun gold. Anyway her kid did a great job. Crying realistically on cue is hard and she nailed it. Me, I'd need incentive. I'd need someone to offer me a deliciously gooey chocolate cake then at the last minute, right before I took a bite, take it away, in order to get that sort of reaction out of me.

Of course there's an equal chance they'd get an entirely different reaction out of me and wind up in the E.R. so you know...make your choices carefully.

Happy weekend, you guys!

Veg Gets Serious Face

Friday, August 5th, 2011 – a what the fuck moment
I don’t know about you guys, but I’m enjoying all this controversy over Vogue Paris’s current issue featuring a ten year old model in sultry make up and sporting designer clothing while posing seductively for the camera. I mean it’s pretty ludicrous. Any normal person can see that. People are outraged! People are fretting. People are defending it. The French have no morals. The American media is full of puritanical prudes. Fight, fight, fight.

Seriously though, I’m a pretty liberal person. There are so many things people object to that I find perfectly reasonable and the American media half the time is too concerned with offending the religious element that they will scoff at almost anything these days, sometimes to the point of making me pull my own hair out and say bad words at the petty mindedness of it all.

But in this case, are the protesting media being unreasonable? Because I don’t think so. I’m not sure what sort of person out there thinks it’s a reasonable thing to do – making up a ten year old to act like a twenty year old and making her pose in a suggestive manner in an adult fashion magazine. Maybe those mothers that dress their four year olds up in tiny dresses and make up and make them shake their tiny booties on stage on “Toddlers and Tiaras”? I don’t know. I do know that that little girl probably saw it as a big game of dress up and has no idea of the impact photos like that might have on the less savoury members of society. We tell people all the time how wrong and sick it is to lust after underage kids yet we go right out and rub it in their faces by presenting them on a platter in a manner that suggests looking sexy at ten years old is okay. Therefore, it’s okay for a ten year old to look sexy but hey! Don’t you think about finding her sexy.

Plus what sort of message does it send to that ten year old girl? That this is how adult women are supposed to behave? Please.

Aren’t little girls already being sexualized way too early? I’m not even going to expect an answer to that, because OF COURSE THEY ARE. Shouldn’t that kid be climbing a tree or making dresses for a Barbie doll? She’s so young that even made up to the nines she doesn’t look remotely like an adult -she looks like a kid in make up, so what is the point they can possibly be making? That it’s okay to find a ten year old desirable? Surely not. That 15 year old models are now too old? I don’t think that’s it. That it’s never too early to get your daughter ready for the adult world? That can’t be it.

Or could it just be that Vogue magazine knew exactly what they were doing when they put a ten year old in their magazine. That they knew it would be provocative and invite publicity. Because really, what’s the bottom line for a magazine? Why, selling issues or promoting itself, of course. And really….job done.

Grab Bag

Monday, July 25th, 2011 - itchy face, in need of caffeine supplementation

Know what's a great way to spend a Sunday night? I'll give you a clue: Imax theatre, 3D glasses, big bag of Starburst, Harry Potter. No? You know I'm right. The movie's dark alright, but the scariest thing about it wasn't Voldemort's increased strength and evil or the death defying 3D visuals or even Neville Longbottom's sweater. No, it was the tiny segment in Snape's past where they made up Alan Rickman to look 15 years younger but winded up with him looking like that Jocelyn Wilderbeast (!) lady who's grown way too fond of the plastic surgery. Creepy.

Anyway, I no longer have to avoid anything relating to this movie or the book because I didn't know how it ended, so yay! I can go back to being nerdy in other ways.

Gosh, how exciting Veg!

On a totally different note, here's something interesting for "LOST" fans who always wanted to know what the Man in Black's actual name was and who enjoy things parodying themselves. 

Come on. "Barry" isn't the name of a fearsome, eternal demon-man who can transform himself into a smoke monster! "Barry" is the name of the dude who comes to fix your roof when you have a leak. Which, I'm thinking, is probably their point.

God, I miss "Lost".

Talking Smack About TV. Or Is It Meth?

Tuesday, July 19, 2011 – brain fog
I haven’t forgotten about Ohio, ok, I haven’t. Don’t you say I have.

Who's as excited as me that “Breaking Bad” is back? Huh? There’s nothing I enjoy more than a stress induced panic attack before bed. Watching the season premiere the other night, in particular that one long, quiet, brutal scene that not only sneaked past the TV censors, but bludgeoned them on its way past the door en route to my nightmares, made me so tense I think I pulled something in my bum from all that anxiety clenching. For real people, my bum’s been achey ever since. It’s Walt’s fault entirely. Actually it’s that goddamn chicken man’s fault. If that guy didn’t creep me out before with his underlying dangerous, deceptively docile, expressionless nature, he sure as fuckety does now. Never cross the chicken man, ladies and genitals. If you saw Sunday’s episode you now know why. That dude is BAD. ASS. A whole horrifying five minute scene and he didn’t say ONE WORD till the end. Fuck. Me.

“Breaking Bad” still has a ways to go to induce the same level of terrifying night terrors and heart palpitations it handed me during seasons 1 and 2 (remember that insane Tuco dude and the old codger with the bell?) but still. Well played AMC for keeping the tension tight as an unmarried Mormon’s vagina. P.S. If you don’t watch “Breaking Bad”, why the fuck not…are you retarded? Rent it immediately. Take a Xanax first though, okay?

P.S. Sorry Mormon ladies. It was a compliment, really!

Also back recently – “True Blood”. Now let’s get this straight right now. “True Blood” is preposterous. It was always preposterous but at least it used to be GOOD preposterous. Juicy. Delicious. Naughty. Fun. The first season of “True Blood” was among the best TV out there. Anyone else think that it’s now a giant parody of itself? I mean I’m not complaining, some men should just BE naked all the time, it’s as simple as that. A law should absolutely exist for that. It’d be a crime to cover some of that up (I’m looking at you Alcide-wolf-man, with your big abdominal muscles jutting out like a xylophone). Incidentally, what was with the gratuitous pube shot the other night? Dude was about half a centimetre away from all hell breaking loose in the pantaloon region. I mean no one wants to see that. Right? No one. I only rewound it to make sure I’d seen it right. That’s my only reason. Yup. On the thirty third rewind I realized, yes, I’d seen it right. AND IT WAS DISGUSTING.

Cough…

And is it just me or has Bill’s accent gotten EVEN FUNNIER? I think so. And Sookie more slapworthy?

And what is the point of Tara, can someone please explain that to me? You can’t. Because there isn’t one.
Yes, I did just write an entry about TV shows. The world is ending.

Throw a Veggie Burger on the Barbie, Veg is Coming To Town!

Thursday, July 14, 2011 – pointless

Oh my God, you guys, I still haven’t won the lottery and moved to some tropical island.  I know this comes as a great shock to no one but myself, but really, I know it’s going to happen.  Of course, it might happen sooner if I bought an actual ticket now and then but I tend to go, “Meh, only losers play the lottery!” instead of, “Only losers go on about what they’ll do when they win the lottery then don’t bother buying a ticket” and then I feel, justifiably, like a bit of an asshole.  

And rather than a tropical island I might just hitch up my (as yet non existent) excellently renovated vintage Airstream and just drive around visiting all of you instead!  Wouldn’t that be nice?  Me showing up on your doorstep, grinning like a retarded Cheshire Cat, calling you “dude” and informing you I’m camping out in your yard in a giant aluminum box for a few days, “HI!”  Think of the fun we’d have as you cook me delicious meals and mix me cocktails and bake me cakes while I regale you with tales of hilarity that I  just made up for attention, then running away in the middle of the night after I throw up on your patio.

Tomorrow’s Friday, I have a hard day ahead at work and a night following it drinking copious amounts of red wine, gin and tonic and talking nonsense like my life depended on it.  A bit like this short but stupid entry. 

Not a lot.  But a bit…