teh hawtnes

French lock Loic Jacquet

Oh my little chickadees, things have been rather busy in these parts as of late. Evil papers on a myriad of different boring topics ranging from authoritarianism in Singapore to Satan's portrayal in Paradise Lost. Kill me now.

These be perilous times I say.

Welp, things are beginning to slightly look up. I'm awaiting the arrival of my brand spanking new SLR which methinks is stuck somewhere along the 49th in a customs bin. The Alcoholic Cousin Who Has An Affinity for Vodka is on a whirlwind 5 day US Turkey Day tour and is gracing me with her presence tonight at the Beac, which should lead to some fun times. Hopefully reminiscent of the summer antics which she regaled me with in the motherland.

w00t ACWHAAFV.

And of course how could we forget the sports? NBA, NHL and added to the mix a ridiculous amount of cricket (which has led to fisticuffs between Thaththi and I over the merits of America's Next Top Model vs The Ashes). Then there's the rugby, where every weekend I get to feast my eyes on things like the above.

Unfortunately they don't show all of the games live in these parts in English, so I had to rely on the TV5 (yes, yes the infamous TV5) feed to get us through the New Zealand vs France match. FIrst off this led to some hilarious results as I was expected to provide simultaneous translations into English. Much to my father's chagrin, Rugby terms were never part of the French curriculum that I've been studying since I was 8. As a result this led me to say things such as "the ball has been liberated," and "he's in trouble for pushing." As always I'm so quick to pick up on the nuances of the language.

What's that? Yeah, I know, I even amaze myself sometimes.

Something I noticed is that aside from the language (put that in for Cap'n Obvious) French commentators, are really nothing at all like their English counterparts, their styles are totally different. I'd hazard to guess that an English commentator would have immediately mentioned something about the "new" uniforms that France was wearing to commemorate 100 years of test rugby with New Zealand. But no. I was left gaping at teh hawtness which was parading itself before my eyes exclaiming to Thaththi that yes, those French bastards have amazing style.

Small, creased, pressed, white shorts?
Check.

Incredibly thought out accessories in the form of tricoloured belts and white socks?
Check.

Hipster-esque, tight vintage jerseys complete with quaint embroidery?
Check.

All in all I thought that the dandy look suited them really well. And then? Half way through the game, the bloody commentators decide to point out that, oh yeah? Those new outfits? They're a one off.

I *heart* ZiZou: A Reprisal

There are many important and exciting things going on in the world, this week has been pretty eventful.


ZiZou getting his Angelina Jolie on. (But in a much less nauseating fashion. Talk about being sunkissed though eh? Seems like he suffers from the same sickness as I do, 3 minute sun exposure = insta-tan. Come on, he did look on the pasty side during the World Cup.)

Britany Spears dumped K-Fed on his ass.
Rummy took his head out of his ass a little bit too late in the game.
CNN has perhaps lodged its head into its own ass even further. If that's even possible.
Ryan Philippe attempted to cover his ass, but failed miserably.

And Zinedine Zidane? The last time I checked, he's still got a nice ass.

My unbridled love for ZiZou has already been documented, and while I was sad that he left the international soccer pitch in such a very strange manner, my only thought was "meh, whatever floats his boat." (Also, as you will see in this Canal Plus interview, in the aftermath of the whole scandal I was thinking "Who told him that wearing a coat over his shoulders like that was fashionable? He reminds me of John Cleese in that Monty Python sketch where he's a WWII padre in Ypres with no arms. It's bad that you head butted. But amputee-chic? Really?")

Little did I ever realise that he would ever be lionised by Family Guy. Behold the youtube goodness below. Also? How freaking awesome is Brian. I swear, if Oliver could talk...

Brian would still be way cooler.

How could another Sri Lankan be so cruel??

I'm going to miss you too.
All good things have to come to an end eventually I guess. What exactly is a "day job" anyways? And Nirmala how could you be so cruel? It's just downright mean spirited. I don't know how good controller.controller's going to be now that she's gone, considering she was like their heart and soul right there. The trappings of being incredibly kick ass musicians who make no money I guess?

And I know, they announced the split in October. Is it wrong that I live a hermit like existence under a rock? Will you not let me grieve in peace?

I bid you adieu and wait with bated breath for the day when you guys decide to reunite. The Toronto music scene is just not going to be the same without you, nay the Canadian one won't be the same either. Melodramatic? Maybe? But you know it's true.

Boo.

And in other news, that piece of shit "musician" M.I.A. is still "recording."

There is evidently no justice at all in this world.

I leave you with what could have been.

Hey. It's Britney Spears! Sing a song for me Brit!

Caught the k-os concert on Tuesday night. It was meh at best. I would've liked it if he was strung out like in the above Much on Demand segment, but you can't have everything right? (Seriously, you don't need to watch a lot, just the first minute and 33 seconds, that's enough to get a taste). Aiya pulled through and got me on the guestlist, the beyotch at the ticket booth was skeptical that my name was on the list, and got downright frigid when I told her who had put it there (Kheaven's brother). I shouldn't complain, I mean I got in, what I did find interesting is that they managed to screw up my "white name," it was spelled incorrectly! Fortunately my 5 syllable last name was there to clear up any confusion.

Met thorn's latest squeeze, and we headed over to the Beac after the show for drinks. Bumped into Carlos who had been at the Mod Club too, only he was in the VIP section, not down with the rest of us plebes. While we were waxing poetic on the shitty setlist and amazing tabla player a guy comes charging past the doors (which we weren't even standing in front of) and shouts "Out of my way! Hipster coming through!" As Carlos so aptly put, that guy? He needed to be kicked in the crotch.

Since it was Halloween there were a few suburban faux-hipsters in really un-ironic and ugly costumes. The self-described hipster took one look at Thorn's unfortunate new dye job and thought she had dressed up as Britney Spears. And I laughed, until tears welled up in my eyes.

In other musical news, I'm stoked for the Decemberists show next Monday, it's awesome going to free concerts. Pitchfork did an interview with Colin, good read, but I don't agree that this is their best album to date. I liked the last one, Picaresque, there wasn't a single track on there that I couldn't listen to a million times.

Rugby fans, November 9th is when single ticket sales start for the Rugby World Cup. I'm incredibly jealous that Thaththi and Aiya get to go, and I'll be putting myself in a really grumpy position come the 9th when I try to get tickets to the England-South Africa game in St-Denis. As of now they're going to a bunch of games in Marseilles. (Close to Italy, the two over eaters aren't just going to Europe for the love of the game, but also for the love of the food.) Funny how I'm planning the entire trip, speak French and am going to be stuck in Toronto come September. Boo.

In the meantime though, I guess I can satisfy my needs to oogle yummy men in small shorts and tight shirts on HDTV. The November internationals start this weekend. w00t! I can't wait. It's been awhile since I've had the pleasure of seeing my boyfriend Danile Carter in action.

Oh. And it's November. Less than 6 more months until summer vacation. Mmm. Summer.