Apocalypse Now: A Story of High School and Low Hopes

I’m here to tell you a story about a young girl who got off a bus in the Big City (re: Toronto) with a dollar in her bank account (re: not really) ready to take on high school at the most magical place in the world:


And in case you’re wondering, that little naive piece of hot, acne-infested pubescence was me.

Sadly, this is a real photo.

Sensuality is my specialty. 

Yes, that is a picture from when I was in an opera. Yes, I did youth opera as a voluntary extracurricular activity.

And I ain’t ashamed.

However, what I didn’t anticipate was how unprepared I was for the ruthless 4 years ahead of me.
Not only did I choose to go to an arts high school, but I chose to major in musical theatre at said arts school.

You know what kind of people are musical theatre people??



Now, don’t get me wrong, some of my best friends are musical theatre fanatics.

But then again… most of them are not.

I was simply not prepared for the fuckin’ Vietnam War-like conditions that awaited me in that graffitied building where people would try to snort ecstasy between classes (because LOGIC) and where, on my first day, a kid threw up in my French class because he’d drank a mickey of Jack Daniels.

It was 10am. 

In that school, it was either kill, or be killed. DANCE OR DIE.

I would say “eat or be eaten,” but no one in that school ever fuckin’ ate.

Except for the visual arts majors. Because of the cannabis and such.

At lunch, it would be salads and chickpeas as far as the eye could see. And there I was, with my pudding cups, feeling like I’d landed in the middle of a Jenny Craig ad.

It didn’t take long before people noticed I was eating well over the 500-calorie limit for the day and started dropping hints whenever I got up in the middle of Geography to grab a quick Mountain Dew and a bag of Doritos.

They were not very subtle hints.

It was a sad day when they finally broke me down, leaving me starving (literally) in the gutter (metaphorically), desperately clutching at my carbohydrate-filld past.

This attitude wasn’t only perpetuated by the students. In fact, the students were the smallest part of it.

The teachers were way worse.

It was common knowledge that one of the dance teachers had told her class, after showing them a particularly skimpy costume: “Next time you want to reach for that slice of cake, you better think twice!”

I KNOW, RIGHT?? Thanks, Tina.

So you see, it was not a very healthy environment for a bunch of emotionally and physically insecure teenagers who still didn’t know what to do with their boobs (I’m speaking from a feminine perspective, here).

It could also have had something to do with the fact that they made us dance like common whores. For one show, I had to warn my family ahead of time that they would probably be shocked by what I’d be doing.

Which was basically this:

Luckily, I managed to turn it into something more like this:

FACT: They did ask us to wear bras. And only bras.

The thing is, that I had trouble being “sexy.” What were supposed to be smooth body rolls and flirty lil’ booty shakes became something not unlike an epileptic seizure. And apparently musical theatre is a “sexy” thing to do, now.

Goddammit, Glee. 

I went into the school with little-to-no knowledge of the art of dahnce. And I had no freakin’ clue how to be sexy.

I gave it my best effort…

…but was not very successful.

Not only was this school a fuckin’ feeding ground for anorexia and slut culture, but people were CONSTANTLY trying to outshine one another. This was the place where your friends were also your competition. Backstabbing and shit-talking was everywhere. People sucked up to teachers and even drunk-texted them (because this was a m****f***in’ classy establishment) in order to get call-backs and roles and solos and whatever the fuck else was important to them at the time.


Except everyone secretly wanted to kill each other.

It was all about getting noticed. And I completely understand that this is what it’s like in the professional world, but we were just kids! For fuck’s sake, I’m still a child! (See previous blog post.)

The teachers basically put a bunch of attention-depraved chihuahuas into an arena and yelled: “TO THE DEATH!”

I tried to get noticed, I really did. In 9th and 10th grades, I sang my lil’ heart out with mediocre renditions of “I Have Confidence” and “On My Own.” By Grade 11, I had gained a “who the f*** cares” attitude, and just kind of went through the musical motions.

The breaking point might have been when they made me wear this:


Even though I consistently wore mis-matched camo-patterned ensembles and miniskirts from Hot Topic (but that’s another story entirely), this was a bit much.

I would also like to point out that I did not cover my friend’s face in this photograph, because she specifically asked me not to. Because she wants to become famous.

But it was people like that who got me through my high school years. Granted, a lot of them sucked, but I met some people at that place that I’ll never forget and will always remember (THANKS, CAPTAIN REDUNDANT!)

High school sucks. If it didn’t suck for you, then you were doing something wrong. They’re four extremely awkward years full of heartbreak and broken dreams and weird body odours.

High school.

Not high school:

But the friends you make and keep during those years are so important. I’ll never forget how much shit we cried over, and how many times we snuck alcohol from our parents’ liquor cabinets and got drunk in each other’s basements.

To all you people who are still in high school:
Hang in there, because university is SO GREAT.

To all you people at an arts high school:

Unless you’re enjoying it. In which case: more power to ya! (But also, how???)

And finally, to everyone who made me feel like less of a person because I couldn’t shake my ass properly, to you I say:

And that ain’t ever gonna change.



And the Oscar goes to…Anne Hathaway’s Nipples?

So… last night was weird.

And no, I’m not apologizing for a mistaken, drunken, sexual encounter that’s forcing us to re-evaluate our relationship as platonic friends, leaving us like:

No, internet. As much as I like you as a friend, it would never work. For you are not a sentient being.

No, the Academy Awards were last night.

…And they were weird.

More specifically, I found four weird things both during and after the the Oscars. Weirder things than sexing up a non-sentient being. Or an octogenarian.


So here we go.

My list of the four weirdest things that happened last night during the Oscars.

1. Need I say it? They were right there in front of our eyes, piercing into our very souls with their razor-sharp points for 2 and half hours.

Anne Hathaway’s nipples.

Look at them:

Anne Hathaway blog photo 1



Anne Hathaway Oscar Boobs

That is some serious Kim Possible triangle-boob going on .



Don’t get me wrong. I think Anne Hathaway is a beautiful woman with a somewhat melodramatic personality and a big heart. However, I don’t understand why she decided to shove a couple of toothpicks into her dress before Hollywood’s biggest night.

Seriously. You could carve an ice sculpture with those things.

YAY! Thanks, boobs!


My first reaction was to wonder whether they shot lasers or something. Because to me, that’s really the only reason to walk the red carpet with what look like inverted pizza slices shoved down the front of your dress. Complete with pepperoni.

It would’ve been a lot cooler if Anne (or “Annie,” as her friends call her) had done something like this:

Oh, no! Indiana Anne!

Oh, no! Indiana Anne!

Look at that photo and go: “Pew! Pew!” and tell me you don’t enjoy it.

Congratulations on winning Best Supporting Actress, Ms. Hathaway!

But next time, consider wearing a bra?

2) The second weird thing I’ve found regarding ze Oscahs has to do with the backlash Seth MacFarlane has been receiving from the internets. Especially regarding the “We Saw Your Boobs” song.

I get it. The song was immature and in bad taste. BUT, it was in the context of a joke Seth was making about his being the worst Oscar host ever. He literally asked William Shatner From the Future: “What do I do wrong tonight? Why am I the worst Oscar host in history?” W.S.F.T.F. then shows him a video performance of the criminally immature, “We Saw Your Boobs.”

He was literally performing the song with the knowledge that it was the worst thing ever to happen on the Oscar stage. 

If you watch Family Guy, you know that MacFar-Far has a very self-deprecating sense of humour, so this song should not have come as a surprise. And you know, some good has come of the song. Namely, pointing out that we haven’t seen Jennifer Lawrence’s boobs at all! That’s my girl! (I really like her, if you didn’t get that because you’re illiterate or immune to italics or something.)

Three cheers for feminism!

I totally understand that Seth MacFairyFeet’s humour isn’t for everyone. I grew up in a house where 2/5 people absolutely hated Family Guy, because they believed it to consist of “disgusting” and “stupid” humour.

But whether you love the show or not, no one should have been taken aback by the offensive jokes. I mean, c’mon. This is the guy who made a song about Prom Dumpster Babies.

Prom fucking dumpster babies.

They even swing their umbilical cords like canes. Like fetal Gene Kellys. 

So was it any surprise that he made sexist, bulimia, and domestic abuse jokes throughout the course of the show?

No. Not it was not. 

People have every right to feel uncomfortable about the jokes- that’s the point.

But what I find weird is that everyone’s acting all surprised and shit like: “OHHHHHHH NOOOOOO. HE WENT THERE!”

Raven was especially shocked.

But Hollywood, you knew what you were getting yourself into.

That’s just Seth!

And dayuuuuum, is he ever fine.

3. It seems everyone has also noticed this weirdness. What was up with all the long-haired, white-blonde men winning awards? Does it have to do with some kind of cult?

(Sorry for that, it sounded like a fucking awful beginning to a stand-up routine).



Exhibits A through Weirdly Attractive.

Now compare:


I have a feeling that these men were also taking what was theirs with fire and blood.

(If you didn’t understand that joke because you don’t watch GOT, then YOU ARE NOT WORTH MY TIME).

I also have a feeling that one question still remains unanswered for these men:

“I have my oscar, but…”


4. This part of the night really shocked me. And that would be Tarantino’s douchiest Oscar speech ever.

“I actually think that like…. if people are knowing my movies 30 or 50 years from now it’s gonna be because of the characters that I created, and I really only got one chance to get it right. I have to cast the right people to make those characters come alive and hope they live a long time… and boy, this time did I do it.”

King of the Sewer Douches

Also that he was coked out of his mind.

He did give a little extra credit to the cast of Django, but really, he only showed a billion people watching worldwide that he’s really into himself.

Once again, I would like to state that I’m a HUGE Tarantino fan. I love his films, and I do think he’s a genius and one of the most (if not THE most) innovative filmmaker of our time.


HOWEVER, that doesn’t mean you get to squash everyone’s delicate feelings with your Range Rover-sized douchebaggery.

Daniel Day-Lewis, one of the biggest names in Hollywood, was much more gracious in accepting his award. So was Anne of the Arching Areolas.

C’mon, Tarantino, I love your movies. Don’t ruin this for me.



So there you have it. Four opinions regarding the Oscars that you probably disagree with. I expect many an equally-opinionated comment/ fiery e-mail.

Actually, I’m down for both! 😀 But let’s keep swearing to a maximum, shall we?

The Oscars, for all their faults last night, were still PRETTY good. Better than the Anne Hathaway/James Franco fiasco of a couple years ago.

I could EAT the awkwardness.


All I’m gonna say is…


You want a show that will appeal to everyone? Pick those hilarious ladies and EVERYONE WILL LOVE IT. There would be no sexism, the jabs at the actors would be tasteful, and goddammit, wouldn’t I love to go to an after-party hosted by the two of them.

And you know what else?