Totally Bogus

Wednesday, January 12, 2005

The DVDs came in today. Bill and Ted's Bogus Journey hasn't aged too well. It's no longer the heinous mind trip I once held it up to be. And Death hogs up too much of the limelight. I preferred Sokrates, Napolean and Lincoln in the original, even George Carlin as their mindful guide, excused despite the fact he makes them look like sartorial geniuses. But STATION is still totally heinous.


And, did anyone else pick up on the fact that this is the first series with Keanu that features a telephone booth as a reality-altering vehicle? Hmmm... does that feature in other films besides Matrix and Bill and Ted? And why is Keanu always the saviour of humanity? He's played Buddha, Ted (who changes the fate of humanity), Neo, and the son of the Devil himself. For such a bad actor, he does manage to swipe some pretty hard to play stuff. Think about the pressure dude! You're saving humanity!


now for story to get our minds off horrible thoughts:
this story came running at the heels of a post by Petite Anglaise, on her most embarassing moment, which took place at work, and involved snoring and two split shins. That's awful.

My moment runs further adrift, backwards, before the idea of work had appeared on its nasty horizon. I was but a wee lass...back in the day... Imagine a time when schools were red brick and shaped in perfect cubes, three cubes in total, and the cubes all sitting adjacent to each other. Now imagine this school next to a ravine...look a little further, there's a very skinny small black haired girl running round the field, in circles, talking to herself. That would be me.

It's the end of winter, and now we move to the centre of town, inside another brick building, where a gigantic gymnasium holds court. Inside, are the finalists for the Canadian Legion Toronto Public Speaking Contest, of which I am one. All us sparkling-eyed children, ready to tell the world what to do, how to do it, all dressed up in plaid shirts or jersey one piece dresses.

I am one of 23 tweenie hopefuls, wearing a very nice dress and little white patent shoes. I had already delivered my little lecture, which was completely ridiculous, on "the grass is greener on the other side." My mom, because she's a cheater, had helped me write it. Anyways, so there was an intermission, during which they served little finger sandwiches and Kool-Aid. Walking back from the buffet table, my nascent hormones detected a cute boy, sitting four rows in front of my parents. I struggled for poise, arching my back, and kicking my heels out. But patent heel shoes for children often have plastic soles, which are extremely slippery on gymnasium floors. Rounding the final corner to walk up the aisle, I suddenly found myself in mid-air, only to land unceremoniously at his feet, surrounded by the remains roast beef finger sandwiches, and peach Kool-Aid. I think I kept a slightly dazed and horrified smile, the whole time. I should have known. I'm pre-programmed for calamity in high-stress moments.

Later on, after accepting my prize (2nd baby!), I stood off to the corner, hiding myself. The boy came up, he was gorgeous, and offered to shake my hand. He said quite loosely "very good performance." I peeked up as he was shaking my hand, and noticed he was laughing. Bastard! Though, in retrospect, it's the sort of thing where one looks so ridiculous that everybody should laugh. Like what happened to Carrie in the Stephen King book...