The Human Pincushion

Through a series of unfortunate accidents I dropped a box of pins and needles in a dimly lit area of my carpeted living room. Six-year-old Hannah witnessed the whole thing and without moving to help me pick any of the pins up knowingly said, “Dad’s going to step on one of those pins”.

“No”, I corrected as I crawled around on my hands and knees, “we’re going to pick them all up. No one is going to step on a pin! Now please help me!”

“Je ne parle pas anglais”

She thinks she is clever because she is in French immersion and no one understands what she is saying. She doesn’t really understand yet either but regardless, she knows more than the boys of the household and has fun confusing them. She likes to make up French “sounding “gibberish, especially when she is being told to do something because it throws them off. It works with her brother and dad. It does not work with me.

“Aidez-moi, Hannah!”

I think she reluctantly picked up ONE pin, but upon doing so, screamed in torment as if she had been stabbed with a harpoon and gave up.  She told me she was just a kid and it was dangerous for kids to pick up pins. Besides, she pointed out, she wasn’t the one who dropped them.

Insolent child.

Still, even without her assistance I thought I had gathered up all the pins.

I was wrong…as tends to happen.

Sure enough, a few days after I drop the pins, I get a frantic, angry phone call from Darren. He is in agony. He has stepped on a needle and it’s inserted so far into his foot that only the eye of the needle is poking out.

I can hear Hannah, the little traitor, in the background saying, “I told mommy this would happen.”

I don’t know why I’m the first person Darren calls in such situations. First remove the needle and if you need medical assistance, call an ambulance! Do not call Lala. I cannot help you.

But of course he is not phoning for help or advice. He, with his little sidekick, Hannah, is phoning to place blame.

In a barely controlled voice he asks me if I know why he stepped on a pin.

“Because you don’t look where you’re going?” I answer helpfully.

“NO!” he shrieks, abandoning all pretence of self-control. “YOU dropped pins on the carpet and didn’t pick them up!”

My cell vibrates at the intensity of his outrage.

“Where are you getting your information?” I ask as calm as you please.

“Hannah!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Hannah is a child,” I say, “who are you going to believe, a child or a grown adult?”

Darren cannot believe my lack of contrition and yells, “The child!”

I, however, am not about to admit to anything and instead say, “Does it really matter why at this point? Don’t you think you should remove the foreign object from your foot before worrying about who is responsible? Also, you have to be responsible for your own feet. Surely, you can’t blame me for where YOU decide to tread!”

In frustration he hangs up.

A few days later he has stepped on another one of these pins and I receive another one of his phone calls.

It occurs a few more times in the proceeding weeks. Each time I am not home and each time he phones me on my cell to freak out and demand that something be done. Short of ripping up the carpet, I don’t know what more can be done.

He doesn’t know either, but he does know that with every pin that impales his foot, his resentment for me builds, as does his fear of entering the living room. His god, the TV, is in there, though, and it isn’t like he can avoid his place of worship.

A few weeks of this and he tells me he can’t take it anymore. He does not think he can survive another pinning. And even though I have not admitted (and never will) to any culpability in the matter, he is still suspicious my clumsiness is responsible for the pins. Because of this, he thinks it’s only fair I offer up some sort of restitution. Failing that, it would give him great satisfaction to see ME step on one of these pins.

I tell him that is a horrible, horrible thing to wish on anyone, especially your wife, and as punishment I am left with no choice but to put The Curse of the Pin on him.

“You already DID!!!” he sputters.

Again, ignoring any blame, I suggest to him that if it was me who kept stepping on pins I’d start wearing slippers. I would also avoid the area where I suspect the pins are strewn.

For some weird reason, even though it fills him with dread, he cannot keep himself away from the vicinity of the pin carnage. This perverse fascination is in fact why he keeps stepping on them. Look and ye shall find.

Eventually he does listen to me and takes to wearing slippers. He also makes an effort to stay away from the area in question, but he simply can’t do it. Nevertheless, for another week he is fine. No more pinnings. It seems he has managed to retrieve all the wayward pins with his foot.

“See? I brighten, “something positive has come out of this. Now the kids won’t step on a pin because you’ve already done it for them! You’re a good dad”.

My words of praise do nothing to dissolve his simmering rage.

Then one morning, he wakes up with an ache and stabbing sensation in his back. This is nothing new, mind you, and as a rule I more or less ignore his physical complaints. He worries and complains about back pain constantly because when he was 19 he got into a bad car accident and fractured his spine. His doctors at the time warned that as he got older he may start to experience chronic lumbar pain and other associated symptoms.

The result of this is that Darren is constantly on high alert to ANY discomfort in his back no matter how minor or imagined. This time, however, he says it is “different” and excruciating enough that he can’t go to work.

For the rest of the day he lay on the couch moaning about how he needs to go to the doctor and get some painkillers, but he never makes a move to actually do this. In the meantime, I suggest a muscle relaxant.

It is not until later in the night at maybe 9 or 10 o’clock that I get another one of Darren’s by now customary phone calls. From his pressured tone and rapid breathing I know immediately this has something to do with pins.

I was correct.

It seems Darren had reached around to scratch where his back hurt and in doing so pricked his finger on something sharp. There was blood. He nearly fainted when he realized what it was.

It was the tip of a pin.

You have no idea how disappointed I am that he never went to see that doctor about his “ailment”.

Every time I think of this whole pin situation I am thrown into a new fit of hysterics. As a consequence, Darren has stopped speaking to me.  He is beside himself that I’m not taking it more seriously. He says with utter conviction that if he hadn’t felt the pin when he did, he probably would be dead right now.

“Don’t be absurd,” I laugh, “you can’t die from being stabbed in the back with a pin. A knife, sure, but a pin? I don’t think so, there pincushion”.

Oh and I’ve taken to calling him pincushion.

RHOV ENDS ON A TRIUMPHANT NOTE

FINAL LALA RECAP (PART 8) OF RHOV S2 FINALE

This for sure is my LAST recap installment of the Real Housewives of Vancouver finale, because these blogs are fast becoming, or already have become, irrelevant.

In part 7 we discussed Ioulia’s contribution to the aesthetic side of Vancouver life. Not only does she bop around all over the city showing off her stunning beauty for anyone lucky enough to witness it, she also had her reflection emblazoned on three limited edition gold-rimmed plates, which she plans to sell for $24.99 each. 

This way, those unable to see her in the flesh, can still enjoy her physical magnificence while eating their supper. They can slop their food on her face, or keep the plates in pristine condition, displayed prominently in their dining rooms and kitchens.

But why stop there?

Businesses, government offices, schools, hospitals, rehab centres, soup kitchens and injection sites, as well as shelters for both stray humans and stray animals might also benefit from Ioulia’s pleasing aesthetics. 

It will cost them though, so some of the less funded institutions might have to do bottle drives or panhandle in order to pay for the plates. I wonder how many empties you’d need to buy the one with Ioulia and her cat?

In addition to pretty plates, Ioulia furthermore plans to beautify the city by becoming a “respected” art dealer. Perhaps she can combine her complimentary interests and diversify. She could encourage other local artists to paint say Ronnie’s missing bellybutton on the face of a spatula. 

Or what about Ronnie’s mug in various stages of intoxication on a set of gargantuan casserole dishes? We all know how she likes to cook enormous casseroles.

Remember how in the beginning of this gong-show season Ronnie started out all maternal and domesticated? What happened to that Ronnie?

When you're preparing your shepherd's pies, turnip-macaroni quiches & cheddar-broccoli bakes don't forget your big ass bottle of booze - vodka, wine, whisky, frigg'in rubbing alcohol - it doesn't matter. Just make sure you get nice & sloshed while you're cooking because it makes the food taste better. 

Maybe Jody’s likeness could decorate a platter meant to serve crackers, fruit and nuts. 

Then there’s Amanda, whose constant public displays of partial nudity and vampire-augmented youthfulness would be perfect for tart pans and garlic presses.

Bake with a REAL housewife of Vancouver for the rock bottom price of 99 cents! 

Don't want to go through the gruesome experience of a vampire facelift?  Why not take advantage of the anti-aging properties of freshly pressed garlic using our low-end garlic press! You can press as much garlic as you can stand and eat it, or you can smear it all over your face without the expense and pain of having your own blood injected into your head. Just be careful not to get the garlic in your eye.

Mia is a spinny kind of gal -- how fitting would it be to put her picture on a Lazy Susan? Perfect!

But first things first.

In the season finale Ioulia, who apparently once studied at Sotheby’s Institute of Art, puts a lot of effort and “many hours” into organizing her first gallery showing, which she sees as her “ticket to becoming a respected art dealer”.

In the midst of this “effort" we watch as she indecisively frets about how to display the pieces, while at the same time stating she’s “definitely someone who knows what she wants”.

Ioulia asks for advice: "Do you think it would be random if I put them up on top here? How do I want and where do I want? Can we try, sorry, just one more version?”

She says she knows what she wants and yet has to ask the hired help for their opinion on where and how to arrange the artwork. They are not much use, mind you, as they stand there stupidly holding up the pieces with their arms getting tired, waiting for Ioulia to make a decision and stick with it.

Ioulia to the workers after they’ve arranged the art exactly as Ioulia directed: That doesn’t work. This one goes here for sure, for sure, for sure, for sure. No. What do you think? 

She then goes on to inform us that because she’s been around art “for so many years” she has a “good eye” and an innate “sense” of “what works”.  She also considers herself a “perfectionist”.

Ioulia says, “Because I’m a perfectionist, I want to make sure personally that everything’s in order”.

I don’t know what her standards of perfection are, but later after the event has started and people are walking around viewing the artistic creations on display, we overhear Robin quip something about overpriced pieces of “plywood” that are not even lined up! Haha! Oh that Robin says the funniest things!

Robin: I'm not an artsy kind of girl, but they're wanting $5000 for this plywood? Look! They didn't even line it up right here!"

Also, for someone who claimed that “it’s all in the details” Ioulia didn’t seem overly worried that there were no coatracks for people to hang up their coats – – or BATHROOMS for people to relieve their bladders after downing all the booze she planned on plying them with, because she figured lots of alcohol would “distract” them from her “technical failures”.

Ioulia working the crowd, creating a buzz. She says she "cannot afford any screw-ups".

I am sorry, but with all due “respect”, none of the above sounds like the behavior of a perfectionist. But so what – perfectionists are annoying, tedious and stubborn, which makes them a drag to be around for any extended length of time.

What normal human being could resist the instinct to touch these humongous barnacles glued to  a board?

Being normal human beings, Mary's friends certainly could not resist the temptation as Mary laughingly scolded, "Ladies! Do not touch the painting!" 

You know who isn’t a drag? Robin. I started out this season liking Robin, then being irritated by her and wishing she’d pick a side and then finally she came through and I loved her. She has the best one-liners, is a hoot to watch (and I imagine to hang out with as well) and is not afraid of a confrontation. Unlike Jody, however, her confrontations are not unreasonable or malicious. Robin comes across as confident and assertive, yet warm and open to hearing other sides.

As far as Robin confronting Ronnie about the drugging accusation, although that particular confrontation was relatively sedate, it was nonetheless awesome.

When Ronnie warns Robin to NEVER come up to her again with her petty complaints, Robin says in no uncertain terms, ”I’ll come up to you any time I please when you accuse me of breaking the law”. Go Robin!

By “relatively sedate”, I mean when compared to one of Jody’s psychotic breakdowns or one of Ronnie’s drunken rants – compared to those, Robin was a polite, self-effacing, soft-spoken apologist.

In actuality, Robin’s confrontation of Ronnie was executed with fairness, skill and precision. Robin did not back down, and she said what she had to say in a stern, logical and coherent manner, without coming across as wishy-washy or resorting to low-blows.

Robin: "You could say I had a lesbian affair with you and I'd take it a whole lot better than saying I drugged you. I can't tolerate that because I know I didn't do it".

Robin even had a few bits of wisdom for Ronnie, such as when she advised in a kind, but firm voice: “Please don’t plant that seed in your head and run with it because you don’t remember what happened.”

How did Ronnie react to Robin’s exceedingly legitimate concerns and fair approach to dealing with those concerns?

This is what Ronnie looks like when she is incorrectly processing information. Notice how her eyes kind of roll into the back of her head.

Well, initially Ronnie appeared to be listening and taking it all in (when in reality, her mind was elsewhere computing the outrage that Robin would DARE confront her about anything no matter how justified). It wasn’t until Ronnie’s brain had adequately if not inaccurately processed its profound affront that she at last was spurred to respond.

This is what Robin thought of Ronnie's stunned reaction to being confronted: "Hellloooo? Toot, toot, toot...anybody hooome? " Haha!

In Ronnie's response, she did not acknowledge Robin’s concerns whatsoever. She also did not concede she was wrong to fabricate a story that placed criminal blame on Robin. 

Ronnie thinks everyone ELSE is screwed up and she for one wants nothing to do with ANY of them! Give her some Botox, Restylane and a vat of vodka and FUCK OFF!!

Being the Great Denier she is, Ronnie simply refuses to take responsibility for her own alcoholic choices. If she cannot find something rational or REAL to excuse her actions, she makes shit up. She invents stories or else in obstinate creationist style, completely ignores ALL glaring, concrete evidence to the contrary.

The following is Ronnie’s reaction to being called out on accusing an innocent person of, as Robin put it, “a criminal crime” (is that sort of like Brett’s “clear clarity”?...oh never mind).

Ronnie: “Who does that? I’m going to call you out! I’m going to call you out on EVERY little thing!” Ah, nooo, Ronnie, accusing someone of drugging you actually is NOT a little thing but Lala understands – you’re deluded and know not what you say or do. It’s really not your fault. You cannot help the way your brain functions any more than an insect can.

In this case, Ronnie chooses to totally ignore Robin’s valid complaints and goes on the offense. She tells Robin, “Don’t you EVER come up to me in a public fucking forum like this EVER AGAIN and talk to me like that”. She then tells Robin and anyone else listening to fuck off and storms out of the venue. She says she’s never going out again. Another lie. So there she angrily goes, one classy lady, with her substitute husband, I mean her son.

Ronnie: "I'm leaving and I'm very happily leaving. I guess I had enough".  Does that mean she is not coming back for a third season or is she just lying again?

Robin thus neutralizes the enemy once again. She is: Robin! Super-Heroine! Able to save any gathering from Ronnie’s hatefulness in a single confrontation!

As for Mary, she did not need or enlist Robin’s superhero strength this time around. She was ready to confront Jody all on her own. And she did…to apologize AGAIN.

Mary explains to Jody: “The day of the tea party, I was thoroughly insulted. I am not a nasty, vindictive person. I am actually a very kind-hearted, nice person”. Jody obviously doesn’t agree, even if her reasons for not agreeing are anything but obvious.

Why does Mary keep apologizing to people who do not deserve an apology? I don’t understand. Although, because of Jody’s nonsensical response to the apology, Mary does as usual come out looking like the sane one, while Jody looks like a loon. So perhaps there is a method to Mary’s seemingly unwarranted apologetics.

Mary says, “The thing is, I don’t hate you, Jody, as much as you hate me I do not hate you”.

What can Jody even say to that? Jody has absolutely NO REASON to hate Mary. It’s utterly absurd and unconscionable the way Jody treats Mary, made all the more so when in the face of incontrovertible evidence to the contrary, Jody continues (although unsuccessfully) to malign Mary Zilba.

The apology was actually pretty comical the second time I watched it. The first time I watched it, I was so disappointed that Mary appeared to be submitting to Jody’s nuttiness and cruelty AGAIN that I turned the TV off in dejection. But when I forced myself to re-watch the scene before writing this final installment, I was pleasantly surprised to discover Mary’s apology to Jody was not pathetic at all.

Mary goes to heroic lengths to break through Jody's psychosis, but NOTHING  short of a straight-jacket, padded room and electro-convulsive shock therapy is going to do that. Mary should, however, be commended for her effort.

Now I see that not only was Mary taking the high road, but she was also placating the crazy person, none of which is “pathetic”. Mary comes out the winner. Jody is the loser. This is how it more or less went down:

Mary marches right on up to Jody and explains how she was deeply troubled by the Wobbly Witch’s emotional collapse at Amanda’s Placenta Juice in a Pickle Jar party. Mary might have been personally insulted by the deranged, defamatory things that came out of Jody’s yap, but she was also genuinely worried Jody was going to have a heart attack. Jody calmly replies, “Well, that’s what you’ve done to me, Mary”.

All kidding aside, she seriously does look deranged with her eyes popping out like that in combination with the bizarre things she says, don't you think?

Oh. My. God.

Mary and all the other sane people in the world are astounded at the preposterous things that come out of Jody's mouth. 

Mary CANNOT believe what she’s hearing – NO ONE can – and decides screw it, I’ll just apologize to this weirdo and be done with it. She says, “Jody, I want to say to you if there is something I have said that’s hurt you, I really honestly apologize for that”.

Jody IMMEDIATELY, within nanoseconds of the apology, retorts, “Mary, tell me you’re sorry then”.

Umm, she JUST did tell you, you FREAK OF HUMANITY.

Mary: “I just did!”

Jody: “No, you didn’t apologize. You have bad breath”.

Oh. My. God.

Mary gives up with a laugh and philosophical shrug of her shoulders, remarking, “Well, at least she didn’t tell me to fuck off; by Jody standards that’s progress”.

And that my friends concludes that.

So until next season, if you are going to apologize for doing nothing wrong, may your apologies be ironic, and if you are going to live your life in denial and madness, may you do it without hypocrisy or malice. If you are going to be an imperfect perfectionist, may your perfect faults be enjoyed, and if you are going to have regrets about your choices may you be proud of those regretful choices as the battle scars and lessons of a life lived with gusto.

And if you are going to be an asshole, may you on occasion recognize your asshole reflection in the mirror and adjust yourself accordingly. At least sometimes be the worthy human being you are meant to be.

Finally, if you are going to take umbrage to something Lala blogs, may your insults be clever enough to make Lala laugh with you, and your arguments  convincing enough to make her rethink her stance and change her opinion.

The End.

RHOV: FOOLS & STUPID MASSES

LALA RECAP (PART 7) REAL HOUSEWIVES OF VANCOUVER S2 FINALE

Moving on then from part 6 of my recap, let us take a look at Ioulia and her art event, shall we? Ioulia is fun and we all like her, but she is also shallow and ridiculous. I don’t think there is anything particularly wrong with that – it’s just that eventually it gets boring because superficial people are all the same. You’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all.

Put the fork down, polish off your glass of champagne, tear your eyes away from the mirror, drop the lip gloss and amuse us!

She looked ridiculous, for example, walking arm and arm with her stepsons into Amanda’s placenta party, but everyone at that party looked ridiculous so she fit right in.

I say ridiculous not just because of her bizarre preoccupation with cake while utter mayhem carried on around her, but because in the few scenes we saw of Ioulia interacting with her stepsons, she seemed to flirt with them. And because she filled a parental role with regards to those boys, her flirting came across as not only silly but a tad incestuous.

I realize she wasn’t their biological mother, but even still, she DID play the part on TV and she WAS, while probably not old enough to have given birth to them, nearly 30 and they were minors. Her flirting must have confused them with their raging hormones. Anyone could see they had stalker googly eyes for her too, which was almost as disconcerting as watching Kyle gawk at Ronnie.

I suppose all that is beside the point, though, since Iouila and her grandpa-husband are now divorced and she is no longer a “mother” or channeling Anna Nicole Smith. Surprise. Surprise. Didn’t I call that at the beginning of this parody of life?

If you wed someone for superficial reasons, there is not much chance of the marriage lasting because the marriage is not firmly rooted in anything solid. It is anchored to a flimsy, membranous surface of soppy dollar bills. If the bills go, the marriage goes. I however don’t care anymore about the dysfunctional reasons behind why people get married or what makes them get divorced. The trend is too pervasive and the excuses too cliché – I’m desensitised. C'est la vie. 

As for Ioulia freeing herself from marital shackles, she did unintentionally, in Freudian style, let it slip that she was divorced in an interview done in the days preceding the season premier. She was droning on about how she wanted to use her newfound fame as a “platform” for important issues, such as immigration, when all the sudden she added “now that I’m divorced”.

You better believe the interviewer pounced on that one, to which Ioulia immediately protested a little too urgently, saying that with her Russian accent they had misunderstood her. She didn’t use the word “divorce”; what she actually said was “now that she had a voice”.

Nevertheless, whether she meant to say it or not, she WAS in fact divorced or in the process of divorce when that little slip happened.

Man these people bullshit a lot, don’t they?

In that same interview, after her Freudian slip, Ioulia went on to say of her role on the Real Housewives of Vancouver, “At the end of the day if I look somewhat pretty and, you know, don’t make a complete fool of myself, I’m happy.”

Well, part of her goal was achieved. She did look pretty, and out of all the wives she didn’t make a complete fool of herself. She did make a fool of herself, just not a complete one. They all made fools out of themselves, although some, such as Jody and Ronnie, did it more completely than others.

It’s why we tune into shows like this in the first place. It is for our weekly dose of drama and to watch privileged women make fools of themselves. It makes us feel better about ourselves in comparison and not quite as dissatisfied with our own modest, again by comparison, lifestyles, while providing a temporary escape. Basically, reality TV placates us so that we remain the enslaved, docile consumers those in positions of power and affluence want us to be.

I suppose Ioulia was encouraged to believe she’d dazzle all her adoring fans with her fabulosity and pretty girl syndrome. She and the others didn’t consider some of us would be laughing at them and not with them. In their conceited minds it was all about having people talk about them, worship them and want to emulate them. But most importantly, they, the people who manage them, and the powers that be wanted to cash in on the RHOV notoriety.

Watching the Real Housewives franchise might be escapism and ego-validation for us, the stupid masses, but for them, it’s an opportunity to increase their privilege even more than it already is using our unwitting support to do it. What is that expression? Necessary illusion? Manufactured consent?

It works, too. Sheeple are easily manipulated by mass media and led to believe their implanted thoughts are uniquely conceived. In this instance, the "mass media" includes blogs like the "Real Housewives of Vancouver Feeble Talk", Facebook RHOV fan pages, twitter accounts that promote RHOV propaganda, and entertainment columnists such as those you might find writing for, I don't know, maybe The Province? 

They are not even particularly subtle about their biased agenda. Evidently they think we are so dumb, we will not notice what they are blatantly doing. "We" being the audience - the pawns. But we aren't the only pawns in this. The wives are also pawns, the difference being the “wives” get financial restitution for their unknowing enslavement. What do we get? Mindless entertainment and celebrity endorsed merchandise WE pay for out of our own meager pockets. In droves we give our hard-earned money to the rich and famous in exchange for fluff.

Case in point, on April 30, 2013, Ioulia will be selling“limited edition” plates with her mug imprinted on them. Apparently this vanity inspired dinnerware is more than just a gold-rimmed dish with a pretty face. The plates are functional. They are practical. You can actually serve your family their supper on these things if you are so inclined.

As for me? I beseech you, if I start decorating my home or eating my meals off dishes adorned with portraits of ANY of the Real Housewives from Vancouver or any other city, please just fucking kill me. I’ve gone too far by that point and I don’t deserve to live.

To read the last and final installment click here.

LALA FINALE RECAP PART 7

LALA FINALE RECAP PART 6

LALA FINALE RECAP PART 5

LALA FINALE RECAP PART 4

LALA FINALE RECAP PART 3

LALA FINALE RECAP PART 2

LALA FINALE RECAP PART 1

RHOV: Does Art Imitate Life OR Does Life Imitate Art?

LALA RECAP (PART 6) REAL HOUSEWIVES OF VANCOUVER S2 FINALE

In part 5 of my recap, we more or else established Brett Wilson and Mary Zilba’s date was a branding ploy on Wilson’s part. It was blatant. He literally made a sales pitch, not once but twice. Being a shrewd businessman, I imagine everything he does in his life is through the lens of how can he turn a profit and promote his brand. It is his driving force, his passion.

This is a clue as to why his marriage didn’t work out and also why he can’t stay in a committed relationship for the long haul. He can’t stay put. He can’t even stay committed to one of his many charities. He is a serial monogamist with regards to his relationships and his charities.

But so what. To each his own. At least he is spreading his attention and money around.

Matched up on a date, thinking about his "brand".

My only real problem with this “nice guy” – I mean, other than the alarming disregard for the planet that people like him are helping to destroy in the process of getting filthy rich, while the rest of us poor slobs are forced to sit impotently by watching them do it, breathing in the bitumen fumes, developing horribly debilitating lung diseases and rare, insidious cancers; our children being diagnosed with mood, behavioral, developmental and learning disorders, such as autism, attention deficit  and hyperactivity (and there IS some research that links these issues to industrial pollution if you care to look) and put on psychostimulants and other drugs with serious potential side effects of their own. What about the innocent birds landing on huge lakes of toxic sludge and suffocating in the stuff? And the deformed fish – good god the fish! The oil execs should try eating those mutant fish and drinking that toxin-flavored water on a regular basis – see how THEY like dying a painful, malignant death or seeing THEIR loved ones die that way, as unwitting sacrifices to the money gods …holy sweet feathered balaclavas, somebody slap me!

They want you to believe the tumor on this fish, which was taken from Alberta's Athabasca River, is a natural occurring phenomenon and has nothing to do with toxic chemicals seeping into the river from drilling sites.

I feel like Newman off Seinfeld when he gets carried away.

Okay, so what was I saying?

Oh yeah – my only other issue with Brett Wilson is that it isn’t until AFTER he makes his billions, his marriage ends and in some karmic twist develops prostate cancer that he wishes he had done things differently. (Incidentally, cancer causing agents have been found in Alberta’s air, soil and waters in alarming quantities and cancer rates ARE significantly increased in communities downstream from massive drilling sites, and while industry and government want us to believe those carcinogens have nothing to do with tar sands production, scientists with their pesky research, a.k.a. proof, beg to differ).

I keep getting side-tracked, here – it’s this secondary environmental topic that has me distracted. I did not expect my silly addiction to The Real Housewives of Vancouver would bring me down this road. It seems a little odd. I know.

What was I saying?

Oh yes – it isn’t until after he is faced with the unpleasant consequences of naked ambition and the conscious choices he made in the name of that ambition that he is full of regret. He should own it. He’s not an idiot – he knew perfectly well what the consequences would be to his personal life.

To be as successful as he is at anything you have to have a narrow-minded focus to the near exclusion of all else. You just do. It’s one reason why there are more enormously successful, higher paid professional men than women. It’s not necessarily because of gender biased policies or because women are less capable, but because women as a whole are less likely than men as a whole to sacrifice family and motherhood for ambition.

It’s very difficult (although I don’t think impossible) to be simultaneously dedicated to a career and to parenthood and expect to do an especially stellar job of either. There simply are not enough hours in the day.

Some women thus put their careers off or on hold, as in fact Mary Zilba did, to focus on their families and raise their children. The only problem is that by the time they’ve achieved that goal (raising their kids), what’s happened is their male counterparts have had a sometimes impossible to catch up head start. Consequently, it appears there is an inequality, when in reality it probably (although arguably) can be chalked up more to logistics or “the nature of the beast” than to some sinister tactic by the “patriarchy”.

More to the point, though, just as women often choose their family life over career, at least initially, men can also make that choice, as was the case with Wilson’s own father. He too could have chased the oil-slicked riches of the tar sands, spewing out money like a lawnmower spitting out cut grass to the family who stood behind him, never looking back to give them the attention money can’t buy.

Wilson’s father instead opted to stay put and have a relatively modest career in exchange for providing both financial and emotional support to his family. That was his father’s choice. Wilson on the other hand decided to grab that lawnmower and make a run for it.

I don’t think one choice deserves more of a severe moralistic judgment than the other, but whatever your choice, own it. It’s weak to come back later and whine about regrets. Weak.

Forgetting his regrets, he aggressively goes in with his sales pitch, pretending to address Mary but fully aware of the cameras recording his every word. Afterwards he says: “Enough about me – that certainly is one of my favorite topics” – no kidding, you don't say?

Mary, in comparison, despite different ridiculous and false things said about her to the contrary, I do not see as “weak”. They mistake decorum for weakness. She, for example, handled Brett’s smarmy, infomercial advances with the same dignified yet good-natured, easy-going manner we see her use in pretty much all her interactions, whether personal or otherwise.

Mary patiently listens to the pitch, oohing and awing at appropriate intervals.

She again comes across as warm, sincere and engaged, which Brett might have noticed if he wasn’t so distracted by cleavage all the time, or blinded by his god complex and controlled by his hoarding disorder for infinite wealth.

In between salivating over her cleavage, he admonishes Mary for not staying as engaged with him as he claims to be with her.

I think that’s enough of this Brett Wilson business though. It is time to leave him behind and move on to the final installment of my Real Housewives of Vancouver season finale recap. And it’s about time too, because I’m getting bored of this.

But before I do that…

The moment she realizes this guy is a letch.

The Brett Wilson character, in addition to tweeting all reality TV to a certain extent is directed (duh) and scripted (no), also seemed to suggest that the 3 minute clip of his 90 minute date with Mary Zilba was edited to make him appear in a way that perhaps did not accurately depict his true self.

HOWEVER, if you have the stomach, inclination and time to waste, below is a casual, unscripted, undirected interview with him, two bimbos, Arlene Dickinson and Dianne Buckner, in which he comes across in the EXACT same smarmy manner he did in the date scene with Mary Zilba.

This then leaves us with the question: Does art imitate life or does life imitate art?  

P.S. Pay particular attention to Dianne Buckner's face when Brett leans in to make some smarmy comment about the stoner-sounding chick with the nearly fully exposed breasts. Haha! She (Buckner) is the best part of the whole thing!

LALA FINALE RECAP PART 7

LALA FINALE RECAP PART 6

LALA FINALE RECAP PART 5

LALA FINALE RECAP PART 4

LALA FINALE RECAP PART 3

LALA FINALE RECAP PART 2

LALA FINALE RECAP PART 1