Creampuff Revolution

Creampuff's Mind Blown Like Caligula

Gather 'round, kidz. Grandma's gonna tell you a story.

A story about a time...BEFORE THE INTERNET.

A story about a time when typing "tits" into the search bar got you nowhere - because there WAS NO SEARCH BAR.

A story about a time when we used to use something called a "card catalogue" at the library.

A story about a time when you could look up "tits" in the card catalogue but you wouldn't find anything.

A story about a time when your brother's friend Tommy Nickelchuk wouldn't let girls into the basement and you therefore had no access to Tommy's dad's prodigious porn collection.

A story about a time when you made do with what you could find.

Probably the best source of smut in my innocent youth was the public library, which housed all manner of bodice-ripping romance novels full of fairly tame love-making. I particularly remember reading the racy drama Lace and its shocking and aptly named sequel Lace II on the recommendation of friends who shall remain nameless (you know who you are, girls). Other favourites included the Clan of the Cave Bear series (you know you read them too, so zip it) and, naturally, the dirty bits of Sidney Sheldon novels that some helpful perv before me had marked by folding over the pages.

I would never check these books out of the library, you understand - that would be CRAZY. I just enjoyed them in the study carrels, taking mental notes on vocabulary and anatomy, but mainly blushing.

My other library reading passion was books about the making of films, which, for some reason, I also never checked out. I read about the making of Blade Runner, Dune, A Chorus Line - endlessly. I couldn't get enough.

And then, one magical day, my two secret library reading passions collided in one perfect book: Ultimate Porno - the Making of Caligula.

Here's the short version - the making of Caligula was a clusterfuck in every possible sense. And someone wrote it down and it made for really excellent reading and kept me clandestinely occupied for several weeks. Naturally, I could NEVER check out a book called Ultimate Porno - just the thought of the librarian giving me "the look" if I were to take it to the desk kept me from even considering removing it from the building. But I sure did enjoy it.

It's been a long time since I read Ultimate Porno but it all came rushing back when I saw the following tweet from my film-critic friend Paul Matwychuk:

I replied:

Paul and I had a little more back and forth and then I checked out Paul's excellent review of Caligula.

And then, a couple of days later...THIS HAPPENED:

That's right - the Edmonton Public Library responded to my tweet about Ultimate Porno.

First of all - how awesome is it that the EPL is on Twitter in the first place?

Secondly - how hilarious are they? VERY HILARIOUS.

Thirdly - what happened to the EPL's copy of Ultimate Porno?? That book was genius! It had it all! Drama! Action! Extras complaining about improperly sanded wooden dildos! I bet some less scrupulous youth than I made off with it after my love affair with it ended. Godspeed, Ultimate Porno Stealer - godspeed.

Fourthly - the librarians are ON TO ME. And it's TERRIFYING.

Don't leave me hanging like a well-hung Roman here, people. I encourage you to tweet about your own young adult horndog books and see if your local library responds.

Creampuff Puts it All Together

I spent the entire weekend building IKEA furniture! A new desk named Fredrik for my lady (that's you, Katr) and two giant Hemnes dressers. My fingertips are raw and swollen, like Helen Keller's after a porn bender.

Katr and I are smart enough to recognize that IKEA building is a team exercise. One person on the team builds the furniture. The other person offers unlimited sympathy and support.

In our house, I am the builder and Katr is the water-bringer, soothing-platitude-utterer, online-solution-looker-upper and general encouragement operative. Both of us discharged our duties with great aplomb, I feel, particularly in the case of the misapplication of unremovable bolt 110519.

A tip for those of you building the Hemnes dresser - REALLY look at the instructions before you hammer in unremovable bolts 110519. You can't get those fuckers out, gang. Even if you haven't pounded them all the way in, getting them out is not a viable option. So you can imagine my distress when I discovered that I had installed the drawer sides inside out and could not attach the drawer slides because there were no holes. HA ha! Shitballs!

Fortunately, my teammate was at hand to look up tips for removing unremovable bolt 110519 (turns out your options are "OMG fucked! Fucked!" and "return the drawer to the store and get a new one"). Then, when we came to the conclusion that power tool intervention was necessary, my teammate brought me the drill. Because god forbid I actually stand up and get it myself.

It took the entire weekend, but I cannot tell you how excited we are about these effing dressers. We've been experiencing a real paucity of bedroom furniture ever since we moved to Vancouver and after keeping my ginch in the china hutch for two years, I was ready for a big blue change.

For you IKEA haters out there, I must point out that we scoured used furniture places, consignment stores and Craigslist for ages trying to find an extant dresser but after weeks of searching, we found mainly dressers that:

a) looked as though they'd been in a fight. With a flamethrower.

b) were priced to move ... into Donald Trump's mansion.

c) smelled like semen. 'Cause dresser drawers are a good place to keep that.

All in all, assembling Hemnes myself seemed like a small price to pay for a dresser that I was fairly certain no one had jizzed in. Thank you, IKEA! Thank you.

Creampuff's 25 Things

Kimli tagged me for some "25 Things About Me" fun. Because I am eager to please anyone with a rack that fine, I have obliged. One of these statements is a lie though - see if you can guess!

• Whenever I eat granulated honey, I imagine I'm an ancient Briton.
• I suspect I am a natural luger. Singles though - that double luge is fucked up.
• The sound of me sneezing makes babies scream. In fear? In solidarity? Only the babies know.
• I have to suppress the urge to blurt out "I backwashed!" whenever anyone takes a sip of something in my presence. It's exhausting, but that's good manners for you.
• Sometimes, I really wonder what happened to Ace of Base.
• I have one small tattoo, in one colour. It took 20 minutes and I nearly passed out while barfing. They had to open a door and give me a lollipop.
• My low tattoo pain tolerance is particularly hilarious in view of the many years I spent Xacto-knifing my arms.
• I have an interview to be a volunteer for the Vancouver 2010 Olympics in a couple of weeks! I'm hoping they'll give me my first choice: "luge track tester".
• I speak "conversational French" - so long as that conversation is with a drunk French 3 year old with poor hearing.
• I crave strudel.
• I'm tempted to join Twitter but worry that having only 140 characters to express myself will really cramp my st
• One time, at band camp, I totally wrote "Clarinet Rules!!" on the underside of the top bunk with a felt-tip pen.
• Sometimes I pretend to be a Christian at parties.
• My ears are too small for the iPod headphones. I have to buy special earbuds for pinheads.
• Flannel makes me angry.
• I will make 2009 the Year of Actual Follow-through.
• My credit card company tells me that I've qualified for a "payment holiday". Nice try, bitches. You're not getting another cent of interest from me.
• I really like Sarah Vowell, but I'm finding The Wordy Shipmates'  "just one long essay with no chapters and plenty of jumping around" style is greatly diminishing my enjoyment and education.
• I really resent it when my fingernails get long. It's like "I just cut you, fingernails! GOD!"
• I always sniff the cream.
• There is in existence a short video of me dancing around in the kitchen to "Centerfold" by the J. Geils Band, using a zucchini as a wang.
• There can never been too many raisins.
• Sometimes I buy movies that are really emotionally wrenching and then never watch them again. I think I buy them so that I can keep an eye on them.
• I once shoplifted a single marble from the drugstore near my house. 2 years later, I sneaked the same marble back into the store and put it back where I found it.
• They're real and they're spectacular.

Whew! That was exhausting. I'd take a nap if the dog wasn't right here, butting my leg with her nose and threatening to drop a deuce on the rug. Ah, Emmy Lou - you're like a fuzzy personal trainer who licks herself. Aren't you? Aren't you? Good dog.

As you know, I choose not to assign these things. But if you're looking for some fodder, consider yourself tagged!

Happy Creampuff New Year!!

Oh, my lovelies. Love, sloth, bad weather and good eatin' - words cannot express the bliss we have experienced over the last week. It took awhile for us to remember how to not work, but after a day or two of hard slogging, we really found our "do nothing but what pleases" groove.

Emmy Lou has a new reindeer friend. Reindeer looks...nervous.

A delightful view of the snow covered city from our balcony, before it started raining and the combined icy crusted snow and slippery slush began to suck my will to live and ruin every dog walk.

Katr's giant atlas. I don't know why.

Three of my Sundara Yarn Seasons Collection booty from Katr (the fourth has already been commandeered for sockal purposes) - I made out like a bandit! A yarn bandit. A yarn bandit who wound 2200 yds of yarn into balls while watching 6 hours of Pride & Prejudice. A very tired yarn bandit. P.S. I just joined Ravelry as "Creampuff" - perhaps I'll see some of you there?

Dog - tree - fire roaring on the t.v. Aaaah yes. Perfection.

I hope you all had an equally felicitous holiday week of joy and fruitcake!

We were meant to cap our week of sloth with a visit from Katr's brother Drtr - sadly, a tree fell on his car during a windstorm in PA a couple of days ago (he was not inside the car at the time) and he couldn't make it up to Toronto in time to make his flight. Our hearts were as crushed as his hatchback - but we hope he can come do our every bidding for a visit sometime soon! Meantime, we are heading over to Victoria for second Christmas tomorrow, where the dog can finally run free and my family has promised to cheer Katr with impressions of her brother.

Happiest of New Years to you all! It's been a delightful break from the computer, but I must say I'm deeply looking forward to catching up on all of your 3-day eggnog bender antics! Huzzah 2009!

Creampuffs Live on the Edge

I remember in First Year Acting at York our instructor made us keep a journal in which we were meant to record our answer to the following daily question:

What was my risk today?

HAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!! Oh, theatre school - the four year wank fest of life. GOD, I loved it!

At first, I took this assignment very seriously. What WAS my risk today? It was first year university and I went to a school where I knew no one - as a shy nerd, risks came thick and fast at the beginning of the term.

Was my risk trying to make friends with someone new?  Asking the scary Pasta Pronto employee to please not ash in my linguini?  Wearing my Disney Villains t-shirt without knowing if the other students would know I was being ironic?

It all seemed very dire. But as the term progressed, my risk taking also progressed - in a creative sense. While the first month or so had entries like:

"My risk today was waving hello at Michelle, even though we only talked for a minute yesterday. She smiled and waved back and it made my day. Somehow, in the course of waving, I managed to scratch the inside of my nostril really hard [this is true - I still have no idea how this happened but I had a nose-blood stain on the cuff of my jacket for years later] and my nose just started gushing blood. It was really cathartic."

by the end of the term, my journal went more like:

"My risk today was walking down the stairs at Winters College without holding the railing. There were some dicey moments, but I got down okay."

or

"My risk today was that the date on my milk was April 4 but today is the 6th. I drank it anyway. Now the whole dorm is saying that their risk today is going into the bathroom after I've just been in there."

For a guy who now makes his living in funny t.v. commercials, my acting teacher didn't really have a sense of humour. I believe I got a C+. That's right - I WAS ROBBED.

After a weekend of extreme theatre nerdishness, I've been reminiscing about my university experience and specifically the "risk" exercise. I decided I should start cataloguing my daily risks.

I took a few risks yesterday - I applied for a couple of Fringes, let the dog paw at the bushes even though the bitchy Park Services guy was working 20 feet away and - and this is the BIG one - waited until we were on the last roll of toilet paper before going to the Costco for more.

I know! It's like non-stop action over here! Taking risks is fun! In fact, I'm already planning my risk for tomorrow - wearing my new jeans WITHOUT WASHING THEM FIRST. Stay tuned!

You can get in on this action too, people. What was your risk today?

Creampuff Both Loud AND Queer

Despite all evidence to the contrary, I generally believe myself to be the Mistress of Time and Space and that is why I act as though it is still September when, as a matter of fact, it's not. That's also why I thought I had plenty of time to let my Edmontonian readers know that Workshop West's annual Loud n' Queer Cabaret is ridin' again - this weekend!! Right now!!

Yes, that's right - the first night was tonight and if you're not there right now, well, you've missed it and I'm really sorry. BUT there's still one more night of LnQ tomorrow night! As usual, I wish fervently that I could be there and yet am not. But the lovely and very talented Loud n Queer folks are premiering my latest piece, Cradle-Robbing Cougar's Tips for Digital Dating. Very important and educational, people - don't miss it!

So if you're kicking around Edmonton in your cowboy hat, spurs and pasties tomorrow night, be sure to mosey on down to La Cité Francophone for some hot queer action. Break a leg, homos!

Creampuff Takes the Plunge

NaBloPoMo. It's ON like DONKEY KONG, people!

Okay, uh... see you tomorrow.

Creampuff's Dog Exhausted After Voting

Emmy says:

"It's hard work being part of the democratic process. Naturally, I voted for the underdog. Then I rubbed my butt on the ground to entertain the Elections Canada volunteers. Make sure you get out and vote today - 'cause if you don't, I'll KNOW. And then you'll get THE TONGUE."

Creampuff Musical Memory

You might think that because I was listening to Love is a Contact Sport by Whitney Houston on my walkman right before I was mugged by a gang of girls near the West Edmonton Mall years ago, I might not like that song any more.

But you'd be SO WRONG!

That's the power of Whitney Houston, people. Know about it.

Creampuff Blogs Her Truth

Note: This post is all about BlogHer08 and how I went to it. That's right - I'm blogging about a conference I went to about blogging. If you don't care - I don't blame you. Carry on.

Okay, so BlogHer08. When you wait a week to do a post about it, you'll find that others have summed it up better than you ever could! Huzzah! Once again, procrastination pays off.

I would say my experience at BlogHer was a synthesis of mo pie's from Big Fat Deal and Kerry from Crunchy Carpets. Great people, overwhelming and underwhelming simultaneously, conference is what you make it, should have been more prepared...etc. And now, the highlights!

Excellent Choices I Made:

Meeting Curly - Somehow, out of 1000 bloggers at this conference, I only knew two. I'm married to one of them and the other one was the witty, lesbonic Curly McDimple of Ham & Cheese on Wry. I started reading her a couple of years ago and while many people came to love her blog through her heartbreaking "re: the muppets" series, it was her description of seeing a co-worker exit a bathroom stall eating a piece of pizza that cemented my high regard for her work.

She and I pulled off an historic meeting at breakfast on the second day (tricky, as she was there for work and using her *real* name. That's right! I know the true identity of Curly McDimple! Don't worry, though, Curly - your secret is safe with me. Well, pretty safe. I guess what I'm saying is that it would take a lot of dough...nuts... to pry your name, address and cellular telephone number from my powdered sugar lips).

Big Fat Deal Meet-Up - BlogHer had several of these "Birds of a Feather" get-togethers where, for 45 minutes, you could hang out with other bloggers in your niche. When I saw "BFD Meet-up" listed on the schedule (why wasn't the whole name on there? What if we didn't know what that meant? Not all the fatties can decipher your ingenious code!) I guessed it was where all the other creampuffs would be. And I was SO RIGHT.

The BFD Meet-Up was easily the highlight of the conference portion for me. 45 minutes of drinking mimosas and admiring the bodacious racks of fabulous women? Ah, how I giggled and laughed and blushed and swooned. I look forward to stalking subscribing to all the cool chicks mo pie listed in her BlogHer report. All of you! Hotness.

Random Bench Meet-up - Sadly, the BFD meet-up was only 45 minutes long, so I ended up plunking myself down on a bench next to two lovely ladies. Sisters-in-law. My knitting (ah knitting - you are the ultimate ambassador!) started us chatting. We talked mothers, mothers-in-law, their kids and my gay dog. It was a welcome oasis from the craziness surrounding us. Cynthia (www.goodenoughwitch.com) - Lucretia (www.geekmommy.net) - you are delightful and I really enjoyed meeting you. I look forward to stalking following you too.

Grover in Cupcake Form - This is the best fucking cupcake I've ever had:

Poor Choices I Made:

Yelling "This is the best fucking cupcake I've ever had" towards a person I thought was Katr but who turned out to be a shocked mom carrying a shocked toddler - Lady...I'm sorry.

Introvert Bloggers Panel - Like many a blogger, I'm a delicate flower who's painfully shy and from the description, it seemed like this session would have an interactive component where we introverts could meet and mingle in a smaller group (instead of the free-for-all of the morning "speed dating" session that I do not remember a single person from). It *seemed* that way, but in reality, not so much. It was basically three shy bloggers talking about how everyone's shy and we should all get over it. Except them. They wouldn't be getting over it. But we should feel free to talk to them if we see them alone in a corner. But if they see us alone in a corner, they will not come over to us. Thanks, guys.

Okay, nothing against the people on the panel, who all seemed very nice - it was really more about my expectations being ... unmet. Also...being an introvert is not the same as having low self-esteem. I...that's all I'm going to say.

Childless Bloggers Panel -  75% of the bloggers *I* met at BlogHer had kids. Some of them called themselves "mommy bloggers". Some didn't. Regardless, by Day Two I was excited to spend a little time with bloggers who didn't have kids and who maybe wanted to talk about other stuff. Like gay dogs or doughnuts. And while there were definitely representatives from the "childless by choice" camp, I felt the panel was overwhelmed by talk of...CHILDREN. Hahahahaaa! Shitballs!

That's right. By wanting to avoid talking about children, I set myself up to hear about kids (having them, not having them, not being able to have them, being angry at others who have them, feeling pressure to have them, hormonal urges to have them, regretting not having them) for 90 minutes. Just as I was thinking about cutting my losses and trying another session, Curly came in and plunked herself down next to me, saying that the only other session I wanted to go to in that timeslot was hot, bothered and standing-room only. So I just sat there silently. Knitting a baby hat. Enjoying the irony.

Things I Would Do Differently Next Time

Decide why I was there - Katr and I signed up for BlogHer on a whim. To "see what it was like". Well, now we know! And I kinda still don't ... get it. The vibe was ... whatever, if we were to go back, I would have to spend some time getting it.

Decide if I care about "famous bloggers" - If I read your blog, you're a famous blogger to me. At BlogHer, there were apparently lots of "famous bloggers". I felt very out of the loop because I didn't know who any of them were. Except Dooce. What's funny is that I've HEARD of Dooce but don't actully read Dooce. I don't know why - she's hilarious. But I guess I only have room in my heart for one career blogger at a time. And I choose Brazen Careerist Penelope Trunk.

God, I loves me some Penelope. Katr apparently sat next to her - for real!! - at dinner at a geek dinner in Toronto before the CMA conference in May and came back with a gay girl crush on her. Sometimes, in the throes of passion...but no, surely I'm imagining that.

Anyway, what? Famous bloggers. I guess my point is that you are all famous bloggers to me and I would want to go if you were going so that I could meet you. Or if Penelope was going. Hear that, Penelope? I'll totally go if you go!

So that was BlogHer! I hope you've enjoyed my in-depth coverage! Coming up - doughnuts like you've never seen them before. Stay tuned.