Category Archives: raincoaster

Win a Date with raincoaster

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Shakespeare Got to Get Paid, Son

Only your taste (or is that “tastes”?) can say whether a date with raincoaster is a prize or booby prize. As you know, we’re all about the boobies lately around these parts. These specific parts, that is.

My parts are superfine, if somewhat bruised lately, just ask anyone who’s seen them, which includes you if you clicked on the link (you just went back and did that, didn’t you?). And they and the rest of me will be going (thanks to an invite from the generous and omnipotent Rebecca Coleman, publicist to…productions successful at getting pimped out on raincoaster.com and Twitter) to the West Coast premiere of Eugene Stickland‘s play Queen Lear at Presentation House Theatre. Want to come as my date? It’s easy (unlike me).

All it takes to win is to post the comment that I think contains the funniest literary joke. Tasteless is extra points, Shakespeare is extra points, King Lear is extra extra points, tasteless King Lear jokes posted by Kenneth Branagh are an automatic win. Sorry, boys, I have a weakness for blustery Irishmen.

Queen Lear at Presentation House

Queen Lear at Presentation House

Life Lessons and Sh8kspeare: Queen Lear

NORTH VANCOUVER, BC: Presentation House Theatre, in association with Western Gold, are pleased to present the West Coast premiere of Eugene Stickland’s Queen Lear. The older generation has much to teach the younger generation about theatre… and life. Or is it the other way around? Queen Lear runs March 25-April 10 at Presentation House Theatre.

An accomplished aging actress, suffering a dearth of decent roles for older women, is cast in the title role in an all-female production of King Lear and, terrified that her memory will fail her, employs a young girl to help her memorize her lines. Text messaging meets iambic pentameter in this amusing and touching story about courage and the strength of spirit. Both women struggle with fear, loss and challenge, illustrating how time and experience both separate and unite them. This new play, featuring celebrated actor Shirley Broderick, newcomer Jennifer McPhee, and acclaimed cellist Peggy Lee, is not to be missed.

Western Gold Theatre produces outstanding professional theatre that expands horizons and enriches the lives of mature artists and their audiences. The company offers powerful role-modeling, creative opportunity and active engagement to a rapidly growing senior population and provides inspiration to diverse generations of theatre lovers. Artistic Director Colleen Winton is particularly interested in creating mentorships between senior artists and emerging artists and sees this play as a wonderful opportunity to celebrate what the generations have to teach each other.

Queen Lear is part of The Third Street Theatre series. Founded in 2005 by Artistic Director Brenda Leadlay, The Third Street Series is the banner under which Presentation House Theatre (PHT) presents and produces a professional season of plays. The vision for the series entails a fusion of accessibility and artistic risk, in order to achieve a season that is appealing and marketable but challenges and educates our audiences about new artistic practices.

Queen Lear previews Thursday, March 25, and opens Friday, March 26 at 8 pm. It then runs nightly (Sunday evenings and Mondays dark) through until April 10. There will be weekend matinees on Saturdays at 4, and Sundays at 2. All performances are at Presentation House Theatre, 333 Chesterfield, North Vancouver (3 blocks from the Seabus). Tickets are $24 for Adults, $22 for Students/Seniors. All tickets are $2 more at the door, and $2 more on Friday and Saturday evenings. All seats for the preview are $12.

For tickets or more information, please call 604.990.3474 or email boxoffice AT phtheatre.org.

www.phtheatre.org

We’ve done this sort of thing before, so you know how it works: no complaining that it’s arbitrary because…well…this is a dictatorship, and when in the history of the known universe have I ever hesitated to be arbitrary? Deadline is noon Friday, and don’t expect me to phone you: mah Jeebusphone has gone AWOL. I’ll hit you up on email or Twitter.

You know what to do, so do it in the comments. And for god’s sake, clean up after yourselves when you’re finished!

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Spring Forward: and throttle someone!

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Harvey?

Harvey?

Blah, blah, blah. Oh, they’re all “reach out and touch someone” right up till you try to put a personal spin on it, like in my headline, and then it’s “oh, somebody needs a little time-out!”

Yes, she does. And she would like to take it at a hotel on Mustique, thankyouverymuch. You know where the Paypal button is.

In related news, apparently I function as a human voodoo doll, and the doctors at Mount St. Joseph’s are actually using me to get back at award-winning actress and international star Marion Cotillard. Behold:

This is what they did to me:

The Damage and yes, it hurt about as much as it looks like it hurt like

So, that’s about four inches long and three across at the widest part, and a week later it looks much the same. Those dots you see aren’t pores: they’re where the freezing went in. Over and over and over. And yes, it still hurt.

and this is what happened at the same time, somewhere in France; coincidence? Hardly likely!

It's just a little prick. I mean, he's not GREEK or something

As MichaelK reports over at DListed:

While being awarded the Order Of Arts And Letters in Paris today, the French Minister pricked Marion in the chichi and pretty much made her nipple bawl blood tears.

The poor woman has tried to protect herself the only way she knows how: by getting in some spares.

Marion Cotillard is just being sensible

I shoulda thought of that myself.

I wonder what she did to piss off the boob docs? Other than stick with her original, home-grown set. I mean, she’ll never get anywhere in Hollywood with those measly flesh pimples!

In any case, and only tangentially related to the above, I’d like to bitch about my new doctor for a second. God knows what happened to the old one; perhaps he was shanghai’d by the Meerkat Army in an attempt to learn the secrets of Operation Global Media Domination (what, whaaaaaat? I’m perfectly sober! Why are you looking at me like that?). That would explain why the hematologist who was on the case the year I had to take off work to battle Hodgkin’s Disease is also missing. Perhaps they ran away together? Won’t their wives be surprised!

So both the doctor I’ve been going to since shortly after puberty and the doctor who treated my cancer have vanished in the last year. And my new doctor is a lovely, lovely person with execrable taste in office decoration (think Dolores Umbrage by way of Olde Russia) but, apparently, absolutely no juice in the medical community.

Socialized medicine works like this, in case you didn’t know (this is where the “social” part comes from, not really the payment system, no matter what they tell you): your doctor needs to refer you to a specialist, so s/he calls up the ones s/he knows socially or who owe him/her favours and s/he gets you in fast if, in his/her opinion what you have needs quick action. And what I may have includes The Big C, and I am something like three years overdue for my checkup.

And I have been waiting since October for a referral to a hematologist, which is entirely too long. When I needed a biopsy the first time, it was a week’s wait and then the head of St. Paul’s thoracic surgery performed it (leaving, may I say, the faintest scar the universe has ever seen; the man is a genius with a scalpel). I mean, I know it takes time to get an appointment with a specialist, but they haven’t even booked the appointment, which is typically six months out from the time of bookage. I’m about ready to take up a station outside the Burrard Medical Building and ambush the next person I see coming out of there wearing expensive shoes, just on the off-chance they’re a specialist.

Oh, and the clinic that set up my tests of last week promised to get the Cancer Agency to set up another biopsy, and it’s been a week and I’ve heard nothing. I mean, it’s not like their calendars only go two weeks ahead. Time to give them a ringy-dingy, methinks, before I have to stalk the Cancer Agency too, and who has time for that?

I mean, my time is valuable. More valuable to me than theirs is, quite frankly.

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My Stuff: the VF questionnaire

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What do you mean, the entry way isn't welcoming?

What do you mean, the entry way isn't welcoming?

When stuck for a blog post when you’ve already posted every goddam Blogthing and MarriedToTheSea on the planet, rip off Vanity Fair. No, seriously, it works every time. There are vast armies of Ivy League grads toiling away in Fifth Avenue sweatshops to come up with easily replicable, endlessly repeatable ideas, and it is a form of honouring their sacrifices (youth, beauty, education, Grammie’s trust fund) to steal their ideas.

After all, if they can live in Manhattan on an intern’s salary, they obviously don’t need our money, right?

So, we’ve done the Proust Questionnaire. We’ve snarked at the Best Dressed List. We’ve slavered over Lapo, and mourned Dominick Dunne. Having walked several hours today after having eaten nothing between the hours of 10am and 9pm, my brain is having a low-blood-sugar evening, which I am not fighting in the slightest but am aiding with the medicinal application of two and a half  ounces of Appleton rum and lime to the gullet.

Hence the prefab content ripoff.

If the rum makes it all the way to my brain, I may attempt originality; there is no expectation whatsoever of success at this, I’m just giving you the heads-up so if something comes out of left field you can blame it on me and not those poor, Lacoste-clad minions. Selah.

Which I stole from Hunter S. Thompson. But you knew that, right?

My Stuff

And fuck the people who say I have too much stuff; what I have, is not enough house, baby! You know where the Paypal button is; donate to support Operation Global Media Domination today! You think these henchmen come cheap?

My apartment looks like a liquor store and a library collided at high speed and the HAZMAT team hasn’t yet arrived.

Stealing the headings from the Alexander Wang quiz in the most recent VF, with occasional supplementationaryism as I see fit and can remember and hey, if there’s one person they should interview for this it’s Jessica Coen now that I think of it, the new editor of Jezebel, the Once and Future Present Against Her Better Instincts Gawkerite and tell her I sent ya, I’m sure she’ll be thrilled.

Clothes

Jeans: I’m not a jean fetishist. Victoria’s Secret London Jean, straight legged, stonewashed or dark indigo only

Sneakers: awesome wrestling booties I got at DemiCouture’s sale for $10

Watch: I loaned my Movado Museum gold watch with the real lizard strap to my much more responsible, High Modernist neighbor. I use my JesusPhone

T-Shirt: I have 27 Starbucks Gimme Tees from the 7 years I worked there

Loafers or Lace-Ups, I guess the girly equivalent would be Heels or Flats: flats, usually sneakers since I’m walking so far, but I also have some patent leopard-spotted platform 4" heels, for posing on bar stools.

Grooming Products

Shampoo: meh, whatever’s on sale

Presumably they meant to ask about Conditioner too, or it’d feel marginalized. We are all inclusive and shit here. Alberto VO 5 Hot Oil treatment once a week, whatever’s on sale the rest of the time. And Wella Kolesteral once a month.

Moisturizer (they ask men this? Whoa, and I thought the metrosexual was dead) Neautrogena Healthy Skin

Hair Product: Bumble and Bumble Surf Spray and Garnier Fructis Wax
Cologne: Trouble or Chanel 19 or Allure or DKNY Red Delicious or Kenneth Cole Black, which I’m mostly just wearing because it was on an incredible discount and it’s okay. Not great. Okay. Miss Dior Cherie or Dune Homme (which is far FAR superior to the women’s version) or the highly exotic KL would be great. Hint, hint.

Toothpaste: Crest. Are there others?

Soap: Roger & Gallet Lettuce Soap if I have money, Allenbury’s if I don’t (mostly), Juicybath if I’m lucky

Where do you get your hair cut? Future Hair at Cambie and Broadway. It’s a school, but it’s a GOOD school. And when I had to go on tv and was penniless, they did my hair for free.

Home

Where do you live? Vangroover, baby. The Downtown Eastside!

Car: Hahahahahahahahahaha, I can’t afford a bus pass!

Sheets: t-shirt knit in white or off-white or maroon or navy blue solids. Soft, soft, soft.

Coffee-Table Book: The Grammar of Ornament, by Owen Jones. So large it IS a coffee table. By the way, I hate coffee tables. I prefer end tables; you don’t bash your shins on them, and they’re handier for resting your refreshing beverage on.

Favorite Flowers: white roses, but Wang’s suggestion of white peonies and white cabbage mint roses is delightful. The only thing wrong with peonies is that they don’t smell as beautiful as they look.

Favorite Gadget: the Jesusphone, but specifically the iPod part of it, and the part that plays podcasts. I’m all over FitMusic podcasts, iRelax sleep inducing soundtracks that you mix, Lose it! fitness management, and the built in camera

Favorite Neighborhood Restaurant: The Irish Heather, followed by the Ovaltine

Favorite Cocktail: Hendrick’s Martini or a Plymouth Negroni, depending on my mood.

Favorite Dessert: I don’t really eat dessert; when did that happen? But Mango Pudding is the single greatest food known to humankind, so I’ll go with that.

Favorite Snack: anything small and frivolous-looking. I’m all about the Afternoon Tea and the Canapes.

Inspirations

Necessary Extravagance: magazines. I used to spend $80 a month, but that was back when $80 a month was LESS than my income!

Favorite Place in the World: my favorite place isn’t in this world; it’s in Narnia

Favorite Movies: Ran, V for Vendetta, Henry V, The Thin Man, Big Trouble in Little China. Yes, one is grandiose.

And of these all, the greatest is Big Trouble in Little China.

Favorite Vintage Store: Liberty if I’m on a budget, Value Village if I’m so skint I’m past budgets, and Deluxe Junk Co. if I’ve got actual money.

Style Icons: Catherine Deneuve and Angie Dickinson (hoop earrings FTW!)

Favorite Colour (I like my spelling better!) Silver Grey

Favorite Texture: Feathers!

Favorite Hotel: La Azotea in General Santos, the Philippines

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Unintended Side-Effects

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Liberty leading the people

I’ll keep this short, because I only have feeling in my left hand which is NOT my best typing hand, and the typos I’ve come up with today are really quite amazing.

The short form is: they stuck a five inch needle in my boob today and sucked part of it out. Sure, they used freezing, but they needed to use so much that my right arm is kinda sorta “theoretical” at this point. I mean, I can SEE it, but I can’t get much use out of it. When they’ve put enough freezing in your boob that you can taste it in your mouth, you know you’re good and froze. And then they decided to do this to my belle poitrine:

Flower Press

But why the bruise eventually showed up on my hand, I have NO idea.

In any case, I whined to the appropriate circle of friends and the Booze Fairy came over with a delivery, and then we went to Mickey D’s (sadly too late for the Free Coffee in the Mornings Until the 14th Offer) and had not one but TWO, count ’em, TWO burger courses, and then came back and blogged and then went home and passed right the fuck out.

Or so I hope.

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what did you do today, raincoaster?

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open your eyes

Yes, it’s a Unicorn Chaser kinda day. Nine posts. Well, really more than nine, because I also made two posts on each of two different blogs that are scheduled to go up over the weekend, so that’s thirteen posts today, and I’ve been at it since 5am and it’s now 1:56 the next am, which is why you saw me not at all yesterday. Nor will again till Monday.

Also: affiliate linked up five blog posts, and did about 30 emails for and to the Social Media Club of Vancouver (keep the 18th for us! It’ll be fab!) and another half-dozen for the Shebeen Club and another half-dozen twitter back-and-forths on behalf of a UK author who wants me to rep her books in North America; since she’s a best-seller, that shouldn’t be too difficult. Oh, and got the news that one of the Shebeen Club members has just gotten an order for 50,000 of her first novel, and sold a movie option (for the second time), which, like, hurray! And don’t forget the little people!

And confirmed that I’m the speaker at the AGM of the Federation of BC Writers and that it’s already such a popular talk that people are asking how to join the Fed and if I give this talk (Social Media for Self-Promotion) any other time (I do, but it’s $150 a head to take that class, so joining the Fed is way cheaper) and that they now want me to give a whole series of talks, because the demand is that solid. And since the pay is that solid, I said a solid yes.

Posts:

Whew! And now, I collapse!

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