Sylvie Hill

Ottawa XPress – Shotgun – September 22, 2005

I’m pretty pissed about something. And yes it’s also my PMS talking, thanks.

Feminists are ragging on the latest Always Have a Happy Period feminine hygiene campaign (www.beinggirl.com) that encourages women to treat and pamper themselves during the cursed Time of the Month.

“It’s like Barbie gets her period,” says Liz Armstrong in a recent Ottawa Citizen article. A writer and health activist who co-authored a book called Whitewash in 1992 about the health risks associated with feminine hygiene products, Armstrong calls the Always campaign “fluffy and silly.”

The ads feature uplifting slogans like, “The shortest distance between sad and happy is a credit line,” “This is the time of the month that chocolate was created for,” and, “This is the time no toenail should go unpolished.”

Treats, chocolates and pedicures. Personally, I like these things when my uterus painfully sheds tissue. Sorry, was that too “fluffy?”

Let’s get real. At this juncture, I am suffering the cruel and constant sensation of debilitating constipation. And yet, it has nothing to do with needing to take a big dump. Blame it on my period.

Did you know that’s what the abdominal pains feel like when some women have their period? They’re excruciating and in severe cases, make her flush and dizzy. She has to call in sick. Cancel a hot date. She keeps having to pee. Breasts are sore, she breaks out and she’s gaseous. And, an irrational urge for Easter Cream Eggs off – season is not unheard of.

And yet, Always’ light-hearted mantras to see suffering women through a bad time are being criticized for their blatant commercial purposes. Armstrong also claims, “This ad campaign, while cloaked in the language of affirmation and female bonding, is really about selling.”

But women were shopping to make themselves feel better long before Always came along with catchy one-liners. In fact, the Always campaign was fuelled by consumer feedback showing that women crave little indulgences at particular times in their cycle, so why not cater to this?

Critics like Aimée Darcel, founder of the Blood Sisters Project in Montreal, which educates young women about menstrual health, is quoted in the same article, saying, “The appeal of the faux-empowerment is exactly what makes the campaign so manipulative.”We’re talking about encouragements to finance a $5.99 bucket of ice cream that makes some women feel better. What’s the big deal?

I suppose the hotheads attacking the ads would suggest less consumerist approaches to dealing with the Woman’s Curse like, “Ask for a hug,” or, “Make some healthy soup.”

And, they wouldn’t be wrong. They’d just be boring. This is advertising, folks. What the fuck do you expect?

Fluff and silly sells like Barbie is a household name. If Barbie gets her period, we’d all know about it. And this is a grand thing. If Always’ light menstrual-themed slogans are popularized, they will get easily absorbed into society. The result: people talking about menstruation. The effect: understanding. As well, the breaking down of the hush-hush that currently surrounds a woman’s period.

I HATE that women can’t justify publicly their headaches or their irritability by saying, “I’ve got my period.” Instead, on top of the physical discomfort, add the social one of having to resort to sissy gestures like rubbing their abdomen, or lies like, “It’s just a little bug” despite an uber-healthy and active month up until then. Some get accused of being hung over!

If women could just come out and say: “I’M MENSTRUATING” – and have it be handled with a joke like, “Let me get you that chocolate bar,” or an offer like, “Would you like to reschedule your exam?” rather than, “What’s her problem?” – I’m guessing that the stress surrounding women’s periods could diminish.

As for you women who breeze through your period unscathed, you may also be the same chicks who can take the Pill, which can often alleviate the awful symptoms of PMS – and even your period. So, you may be thinking my defence of the Always ad campaign is uninteresting at best.

But you girls are also the ones who get to fuck a guy on the fly without first getting the chalkboard out and mapping a game plan of various plays with diaphragms, spermicidal shields, expensive female condoms, sponges, and withdrawal and rhythm methods. So shut your trap already.

Your Pills are cheap, aren’t they? Compare their price with my $50 for drugs to treat “dymenorrhea” – or killer cramps –followed by $7 for Advil and $106 for migraine medicine to treat the doozer that follows the hormonal flux post-menstrually.

You girls can take your Pill, or even variations like Seasonale® that stops eight of your 12 periods a year. You think Always has got a campaign going on! Next week’s Shotgun will let you in on a wonder drug that was the focus of a CBC documentary called “Menstruation Suppression.” Imagine no period.

Until then, women shouldn’t hide their pain – and they sure as fuck shouldn’t feel they’re vacant bimbos just because they treat themselves to a few trifles to get by.

Let these condescending feminists with their overgrown toenails poo-poo the Always ad campaign all they want. I don’t have to listen to that shit. I wear Always – with wings. Look – that’s me flying away.

Bye bye flighty Barbie.

– Sylvie Hill

Ottawa XPress, Shotgun, September 15, 2005

My first boyfriend and me waited almost a year before “doing it” – and it was a blast. Instead of intercourse, we filled our time with tonnes of other sexy stuff and substitutes. But where to get started? The only sex shops I knew of were in Hull and I thought those were for prostitutes and strippers, not an Ottawa U English undergrad.

Then I saw the upstairs sex place right beside Zaphod’s on York Street. It was porno all the way, right down to the disgruntled, gross salesman. It had cheap, slutty clothing that I couldn’t see my punk rock sensitive-soul boyfriend really digging. Their dirty videos were revolting. But I tried. And I walked away with some crap and a dent in my OSAP.

Too bad Venus Envy didn’t exist back then.

Nowadays, in Ottawa, if you’re looking to inject some tasteful and affordable fun into your love life, in my opinion there is only one place you should go. Venus Envy. They provide women and their partners with a respectful (and did I mention FUN!!) place where you can find high-quality adult toys and friendly staff to answer questions, share experiences, and empower yourself.

Formerly on Parent Street across from another Halagonian marker, The Lower Deck Maritime Pub, Venus Envy-a Halifax-based education-oriented sex and bookstore-is now housed at 320 Lisgar Street, corner of Bank, right across from Invisible Cinema. And what digs!

Let’s go for a tour.

Venus Envy Ottawa is a welcoming wide-open space with an impressive selection of dildos, plugs, masturbation aids,
strap-ons, fetish gear and tools all showcased on tasteful displays along the walls. Prices are reasonable and product is popular. You can tell because nothing on the shelves has had time to collect dust like a lot of those toys you see faded in the storefront window of skin shops. And most items have a helpful information card attached so you know what the heck you’re fiddling with. It’s a classy aesthetic sex-shop, this place.

There are three themed tables in the middle of the store full of personal care items like organic sanitary napkins and groovy hot water bottles wrapped in fun-fur with patterns like leopard and zebra print, and my favourite-the black one with flames. On another table are the Kama Sutra and Luna Negra line of aromatic oils, and creams and chocolate body paint. Indulge in body bar cocoa butter blocks in wonderful scents ranging from vanilla and mango to chocolate mint. And novelty sex-play kits are a great way to spice up any weekend.

You have to pick up some inexpensive kitsch magnets so your Crush Boy (or Girl) can stick the cool vintage postcards or erotic note cards you’ll send them on their fridge next to a funky Venus Envy calendar. While you’re at it, why not buy my book and CD, Starfucking tales of sexless one-night stands. Or a female-directed porn DVD.

But I won’t let you leave the store without educating yourself on the bullet-sized “micro mini” vibrator. It sells for $20. These pleasure bullets fit snuggly into the base of a wide range of silicone dildos or sleeves. The helpful sales lady plugged a micro mini into a sparkly dildo for me to feel (with my hands) its effects. The apparatus vibrated from its base right up to the head. Effective.

It’s small enough to fit into the little front pocket of your jeans – the pair you’re wearing – and not the ones in your travel bag you used to hide your huge dinosaur vibrator that airport security could spot readily with their x-ray machines. How embarrassing. Thanks to Venus Envy, you can masturbate in style and with dignity.

“Only five stores in Canada have the same approach,” says owner Shelly Taylor. These are in Vancouver, Toronto, Halifax and Ottawa. Given the couple thousand sex stores, Venus Envy can be seen as a leader in education-oriented sex stores, especially with workshop offerings (www.venusenvy.ca).

But now that you know what’s in the store, how do you give your lover a heads up of what’s in store? How do you try kinky things on your partner or with someone new who may have reservations or hang-ups?

Well, one of my friends suggested that introducing sex toys and fun in the bedroom is a lot like dancing. First, you have to ask nicely if the person is interested. Second, while you’re leading, you have to pay attention if your partner is getting your moves or, having troubles following along. You don’t want square dancing while you’re trying to put a little salsa in their step.

The best advice though is probably to get them on down to Venus Envy. Have a look around. See how they react.

You could also flog their face with a jelly-vinyl dildo while they’re mid-conversation as did an XPress colleague to me at the store’s launch party recently.

Proudly, I didn’t flinch an inch, proving I’m still in the game. Are you?

– Sylvie Hill

Ottawa XPress – September 15, 2005

“Ever notice KFC is one letter away from spelling ‘fuck’?” asks funnyman Harland Williams over the phone from Los Angeles. “So why does everyone eat there?”

Considered one of Canada’s best standup exports, Canadian actor and comedian Williams is a success story. He’s been in Dumb and Dumber, There’s Something About Mary, the cult favourite Half Baked and has regular appearances on Letterman and Leno. He’s also a Just for Laughs favourite – he hosted their 2002 tour, had a standup series on CBC in 2000 and 2001 and has performed at their festival eight times.

He’ll be performing live in Ottawa on Friday September 23 at Centrepointe Theatre as part of a five-city solo tour that kicks off in Belleville and finishes up in Halifax. Expect a guest appearance by his Barenaked cousin, Kevin, of those “Ladies.”

The movies help get his name out there while his stage characters feed into his movie roles. In fact, it was through standup that he was spotted by comedian Jim Carrey, who sang his praises and referred him for a role in Dumb and Dumber. Next thing he knew, he was on the big screen.

“The cool thing about movies is they’re locked in time,” he says, compared to standup comedy, where you see a show but remember only parts of it.

But it’s no problem for this guy to immortalize his talent. With a series of children’s books featuring his art and writing, a new book coming in 2006, a part in the upcoming feature film Surf School and Disney’s A Day with Wilbur Robinson, not to mention his work writing and directing a project with DreamWorks Animation, Williams has staying power. “You have to offer something unique,” he says. But he also credits a strong work ethic, belief, timing and “luck” for his stardom.

Tickets for his Centrepointe show (101 Centrepointe Drive) are $35.50 by calling 580-2700 or going to www.centrepointetheatre.com

RUSSELL PETERS – ONE NIGHT ONLY

Also at Centrepointe tonight (September 15), don’t miss Somebody…! an evening of comedy with Russell Peters and friends at Ben Franklin Place, Centrepointe Theatre ($43.50 at the box office, 580-2700 and online). The quick-witted comedian is best known for mastering characters of all races and cultures. His Comedy Now performance remains one of the most popular and most requested shows on The Comedy Network. Joining Peters is Scott Harris and Debra DiGiovanni.

MORE LAUGHS

At Yuk Yuk’s (88 Albert Street, 236-5233), September 15-17, it’s Tracy Smith who has a way of making men and women of all ages howl with laughter at the pain involved in the pursuit of happiness in the 21st century. Ending the month, September 29 to October 1, is Toronto’s Steve Patterson whose second full-length comedy CD, I Should Have Been Famous By Now, features over an hour of razor-sharp wit, insightful storytelling and original music satire that will leave listeners entertained and enlightened (info@stevepatterson.ca).

Join in the fun on Preston and come celebrate Absolute Comedy’s first anniversary on September 15. The club will treat you to Jim McNally and Montreal’s Jocko Alston. Then it’s champagne and snacks after every show with owners Jason Laurans and Rick Dorush and the comedians. Later this month, catch Cal Verducci with Thom Hancuff on September 22-24, then on September 28 to October 1 it’s Winston Spear and Vito D’Amico. Must-see, Jocko Alston, stars October 5-9. Then it’s more funny stuff with Perry Perlmuter and Slim Bloodworth, October 12-16. Absolute Comedy is at 412 Preston Street, 233-8000.

– Sylvie Hill

Ottawa XPress – Shotgun – September 8, 2006

During my vacation last month in Halifax at a Maritime wedding – surrounded by great live Celtic music and friendly types merrily jigging their hearts away in celebration of love and happiness – I found that sticking to my self-imposed four-months-off-the-booze pledge was challenging.

I finally succumbed to an offer of a glass of wine from Andy at the reception and, with Lindsay’s hospitality later, how could I turn down Alexander Keith’s “Red” beer and Cape Breton fiddles at places like The Triangle Irish Pub and The Economy Shoe Shop Pub? After all, I never said I didn’t like the taste of beer, I just can’t stand all the sad-sack drink-and-dials that seem to happen when I’m sloshed back in Ottawa.

But getting shit-faced in other provinces (especially around coastal folks and Celtic music), well now, dang! that seems to really work for me!

And that’s why I’m gonna pass it on: Yep, I’m telling you to pack up your favourite wool sweater, fill up on gas on the Ontario side and road trip down to Quyon, Quebec on Saturday September 10 for the Third Annual Halfway to St. Paddy’s Day show featuring The Town Pants and Toronto’s the Backstabbers Country Stringband at Gavan’s (1157 Clarendon Street, 819-458-2354).

You might remember those Molson Canadian beer commercials where the guy finds his fridge empty of beer and travels across Canada in sleet and snow accompanied by a musical score of the Proclaimers’ “(I’m Gonna Be) 500 Miles?” One of those guys belting it out is a member of The Town Pants.

They’re currently on tour to support their latest CD, Weight of Words, having already put out Piston Baroque, which was produced by Hugh McMillan from Spirit of the West, and Liverdance. The upcoming gig is being described as a chance meeting with Shane MacGowan and Hank Williams at a pawnshop heist – a crossover between the alt-country and alt-celt scene.

Exclaim! magazine describes The Backstabbers (www.thebackstabbers.org) as “Hogtown’s favourite lo-fi old timey songsters, [who] mine bluegrass and the like for another bull’s eye set of hurting-and-too-drunk-to-care tunes.” As for The Town Pants, critics say the band’s unusual mix of music proves just how far the group has come from its small Irish pub roots, to be one of the most original and entertaining live acts currently on the Celtic roots scene.

The Town Pants (www.thetownpants.com) are Ottawa born-and-raised brothers Dave and Duane Keogh on dual-lead vocals playing banjo and guitar, respectively. A CD called Irish Drinking Songs by The Clancy Brothers and Tommy Makem played its part in the beginning of The Town Pants, but their strongest influences came from their growing up in a large family of Irish and Acadian ancestry where music was an integral part of the households. It rocked kitchen parties full of cousins, granddads, uncles, aunts, but especially their father, Lorne Keogh. He taught Duane how to do a superb Elvis impression before he could count, which makes it perfect that now he’s playing Quyon, home of the three-storey Elvis.

The band is rounded out by a Quyon cutie-Virginia Schwartz-on fiddle and Aaron Chapman on mandolin, tin whistle, harmonicas and musical saw. Chapman was also one of the original founding members of the Scottish Celtic punk rock band the Real McKenzies and credits rowdy Celtic music with having the same honesty and passion as punk.

The fact that the gig is in Quyon makes for some interesting stuff too. About Gavan’s in Quyon: “They get good crowds out there but nobody knows about it,” Chapman tells Shotgun. He describes the scene as a bit like some rural Blue Velvet.

More peculiar is the first time the Town Pants played in Quyon. The power went out at the end of the night. “The fire department from two towns over had to come,” recounts Chapman, “but it didn’t stop anything going on. Everybody just went outside the building and we played acoustically outside the place and a bunch of people got their guitars and fiddles and whatnot and just sort of joined in.”

He adds jokingly, “I thought Jeb and Scout and Boo Radley were going to walk up any second with smiles on their faces.”

Ah, nothing like a huge West Coast band playing an East Coast vibe at a small-town gig that’ll blow your mind. Or the electrical sockets. And your liver…

XXX

HOLY FUCK! is what you’d be saying too if you were out with me and three friends at Helsinki Lounge and Disco two weeks ago. Presented in conjunction with art curator Guy Bérubé, HOLY FUCK II was an invitation-only homoerotic interactive evening of art, talent and music. And a middle-finger salute to the Vatican and political leaders who are against same-sex unions.

We ate delicious fruit and watched a fun porn shoot orchestrated by Ottawa culture pimps, Guerilla Magazine (see the photos at www.getguerilla.ca). We looked on as a leather-clad beauty knelt upon a red-velvet bed in a constructed ’70s bedroom set and bared her breasts to suckling twins for Aaron McKenzie Fraser’s camera. Hand it to gay-positive artists and their community to expose fabulousness in style.

– Sylvie Hill

Ottawa XPress – Shotgun – August 25, 2006

Some people would like to know how they get the caramel inside a Cadbury’s Caramilk bar. I would be happy knowing how they mapped a constellation of my birth sign in blue-green mold on the underside crust of the apple pie I bought at a big corporate chain grocery store on Bank Street.

So there I was on break from work with a cup of tea and a nice slice of heated apple pie. It was me-time. Treat-time. I took a sip of my tea and picked up a fork to dig in. It smelled great. And, tasted like shit. More precisely – like mold.

Are you aware there is a conspiracy going on at your local grocery store? Well, maybe not at yours but at mine there is. How else do you explain the long list of rotten food I’ve barfed up, thrown out or decided to return? I’ve gotten home to notice the seal on my pumpkin pie box was busted and the pie half dried-out. I’ve sat ready with a glass of milk and rock-hard brownies because the plastic wrap on the front side of the brownie bag was torn.

Or the day I went to dump my raviolis into the pot of boiling water when I pulled back the wrapper and noticed they too were pelted with moldy dots! Turns out the store had kept the raviolis on the shelf a day past the expiry date. Shame on me for not checking. I’d been brainwashed by commercials about freshness, and I was shopping on automatic with the blind assumption that all stores ensure their food is fresh for me. That said, with my apple pie experience, I thought I was in the clear with an expiry date two weeks after the point of purchase. Apparently “fresh” pie lasts for that long.

I talked to the store’s manager and he always said, “Just bring it back.” I said for the amount of time I’m wasting on trips doubling back to return spoiled items, I’d sooner just trek out across town to another place and get it right the first time. Having to bring back an item is a pain in the ass! A grocery clerk should be dispatched to my place instead, bearing fresh food!

It’s my belief that an underground operation is happening at this grocery store. I heard of it 10 years ago when I was dating an intense politically aware guy. He was an anti-establishment boyfriend who listened to the fastest punk-rock music ever with names like “Hellnation” and “Enemy Soil.” Injustice revolted him. He created zines with helpful tips on how to boycott Proctor and Gamble and why milk is bad for you. He also hated big grocery store corporations.

There’s an urban myth that in retaliation to a particular grocery store giant, he and his friends sabotaged food items (i.e., opened cans, punctured wrappers, etc.), which would mean consumers, ending up with the shit food, would not return to the store. Now I’m that customer. And I finally understand.

I’m jolted out of complacency and have begun to rethink my whole grocery shopping experience.

My choice to boycott my local big corporation grocery store was initially elitist. I thought the store was beneath me and I had an “I’m-so-inconvenienced” attitude. But my motivation now is centred on capitalism and consumer culture. That I would get so angry about “not getting my money’s worth” was embarrassing. It underlined my thoughtless consumerist expectations.

That I would get so pissed for having to make another trip to return the spoiled goods revealed my pattern of keeping to my hood instead of venturing off to explore other options like specialty shops in Chinatown or the Polish store on Bell Street. It also emphasized my disconnect from the world, since I was not producing the things I consume.

My anger toward the grocery store has since been replaced by my urge to get DIY into operation in my food life.

In a punk zine the ex-boyfriend created, he wrote, “Make a move to start living in harmony with nature, get rid of cars, weapons, harmful technology, etc. and start collectively working the land for a sustainable population. It sounds like a far-fetched pipe dream, but in reality, many of us have already tried to start moving in this direction. It all starts with DIY, doing things for and by ourselves does help! Even if we can’t see the immediate success of our actions, every time we do something to reclaim a little humanity in our lives, we have won a small battle!”

Well, I took the time to make my own apple crumble the other day. It meant I was in charge of what ingredients went into it. It meant sharing with my friends because real baked goods without the chemical preservatives only last so long. And, unlike the store-bought pies I end up tossing ’cause there’s too much for one person, here there was no waste.

With my own hands and market-fresh apples, I have reclaimed my humanity. And the battle won was sweet-especially with whipped cream.

Speaking of food and battles, have you seen Store Wars? Check it out at: www.storewars.org/flash/index.html.

– Sylvie Hill

Ottawa XPress – Shotgun – August 18, 2006

Do I look like I’m getting laid? Pass me the mirror; let me see this.

Inquiring minds want to know. Online reader Brad Thomas wrote, “Last article [I’ve Been So Lonely, Baby, July 21] you were looking for eye candy in Quyon, and now you’re writing an article [The French Connection, August 4] to celebrate all things French. Am I right to conclude that you got laid on the Québec side?”

Thanks for the question, BT. Let me answer that one.

Do I, as they say, glow? Am I giving out positive love vibrations? A rosy hue to my cheeks? Walking funny and tired on Monday mornings?

Fucken right – but the physiological effects are from hooking up with my good pal, CLR, and getting a workout scrubbing away tile grit while straddling the bathtub instead of the sexy beast known in previous columns as the mysterious Crush Boy, who is, BT will find it uncanny to learn, indeed from Québec! Montréal, to be precise. But he’s actually a transplanted Albertan. Giddy up, cowboy!

What a roll in the hay he’d be, eh?

Did I just say that out loud? I can hear you asking: “Tell us, Shotgun! How would you know?” Now there’s a better question. To know if a guy is good in bed, I’ve turned to the “all-woman” and “maddeningly exciting” lady named “J.” She’s the author of the 1969 Number 1 bestseller called The Sensuous Woman. In Chapter 10, she instructs you on “How to Tell in Advance If a Man Will Be a Good Bed Prospect.” Let’s start!

According to J, a guy gives off a number of clues to his

sensuality and sexual talents through his appearance and mannerisms. You must read these cues accurately and early on to know if he’s a keeper or if you should leave him at the Aloha Room.

J says it’s all about – check this – “weeding out the clinkers.” Weed them clinkers, sister! We don’t want no hurt feelings around here just ’cause you couldn’t figure out by the song he requested that he’d suck ass at cunnilingus!

So first, watch his eyes. J thinks it’s a good sign if a guy’s eyes “caress and undress your body with obvious pleasure.” Yet, I met an eyeballer-devouring type one time at a function. The girls and I placed him as a Pierce Brosnan type in a make-believe comic strip where our hero shoots semen from his eyes – he’s that sexual. We giggled, picturing women screaming for cover from his sex-spray.

Thing is, J says, if you get the feeling that “he never really looks fully at your body” even when your back is to him, watch out! She says this kind of man is probably ashamed of the sexual act and will give a “perfunctory performance.” Be just as wary of guys who try to con you with “eye games,” as J calls them – “penetrating stares that make you feel he can see all the way to your palpitating heart and quivering clitoris, or long soulful looks designed to melt you into mush.” This is no indication of superior skills but perhaps those of a second-rate lover.

I had a boyfriend who stared. At first, it turned me on. Then I realized his fixed gaze was really a drunken haze. Dude would be three sheets to the wind and lock eyes on a barmaid shaking her martini. To me, his long stares signalled a casting call for the imaginary skin flick rolling in his head. So inappropriate.

But if he passes the eye test, you move on to his kissing style. “If he is slobbery, he isn’t sensual,” says “J.” “Men who are good lovers invariably use their tongues imaginatively in the early kissing stages,” she adds. “If he uses his tongue badly or not at all, he is going to be equally dull in bed.” Also, how does he treat your breasts? Your skin? You get the idea…

In addition to using superficial stuff to decipher a man’s sexual competence and compatibility, what is nature and biology telling you? According to Deborah Blum, a Pulitzer Prize winner and author of Sex on the Brain, who spoke at the Museum of Nature back in March, “we have a strong genetic influence that urges us to choose people not genetically similar to us.” The idea here is that mixing genes breeds a stronger offspring. Blum explained how in one study, women were drawn to the smell of the stinky T-shirts only on men whose genes were most dissimilar to their own.

Well, whether we choose our sweet-smelling prospective lover consciously or instinctively, it all comes down to waxed balls. How can you read clues of them gems upon a guy’s face? You can’t! And maybe that’s the point. When it comes to hoppin’ in the saddle with a new lover, their “look” may reveal a few things, but in 2005 are we any more able to tell a book by its cover than they did back in ’69? A bit of mystery can be a good thing-especially when it comes to disclosing to Ottawa if I got laid on the Québec side.

A guy can have a lusty look, but it’s as simple as A-B-C for me, BT. Without the look of love-ain’t no one over here shooting his shotgun.

– Sylvie Hill

Ottawa XPress – Shotgun – August 11, 2006

Listen to the signs, to the sounds
Too many mansions coming down
My brown-eyed boy you can run
Take all I taught you. Take my gun.
~ El Hula, “Songs of Violent Love”

Love sucks.

It’s like a vampiric craving that clingwraps you to a nasty force, making you sick (and tired), obsessed and dependent. That power is your girlfriend-and she’s a bloodsucking leech who robs you of your energy and never helps pay for parking. In the end, she’ll kill you – emotionally and spiritually.

A few of my guy friends are going through this, and it makes me sad. And mad ’cause the girlfriend sounds like a right tool. But my mates stick it out for several reasons. I call these guys “The Lost Boys,” and their reasons are misguided but familiar.

By the way, I’m borrowing the Lost Boys title here from the 1980s blockbuster movie by the same name, starring Kiefer Sutherland as lead vampire of a hip rat pack preying on summer visitors at Santa Carla’s boardwalk. Jason Patric plays Michael who gets sucked in by Jamie Gertz as “Star,” a vampire-in-waiting character, after spotting her at an outdoor concert. Little does he know Star is trouble.

Most girls are, boys tell me.

I’m sorry, is all this chick-bashing bothering you? Am I offending you by using biting terms like “tool” up there? Do write in and tell me then how I should describe the shitface princess who called my male friend a pervert when he came home from his very first art class with a sketch of a nude. Or how about the twisted wench who got a kettle from her boyfriend’s parents as a house-warming present and bitched him out later because it wasn’t wrapped.

Oh, wait a sec, that last one was me. So, yes I’m calling the kettle black.

Tell me, what keeps certain dudes from spreading their wings and flying away from soul-sucking, mood-deflating TRAPS. Research from the Shotgun Institute of Relationship Issues shows our boys get lost in crap because they identify as one of the following four types:

* Mr. Nice Guy – he sticks with it because he adores the girl, she’s relatively sane and they’re working things out. He’s no magician, but he has a positive influence that inspires change – in those who want it. Known forever as “The One That Got Away” to the girl who didn’t.

* Mr. Hopeful – similar to NG, Hopeful stays on because he cares about his woman and believes there’s something worthy to be salvaged despite the constant fighting. But nothing ever works. H self-identifies as “Mr. Always Has a Good Point,” then to the later psychoanalyzed as “The Control Freak.”

* Mr. Knights of Crisis – this bastard is a warped underbelly of NG + H. He stays put because his worth is defined by saving damsels in distress. Also called “Never Dated an Adjusted Woman.”

* Mr. Damaged – D brings it on himself by settling with dodgy birds. He’s just as messed. Also, “Mr. I Have a Drinking Problem.”

Now, supposing a guy is relatively together and doing his best to compromise and cope, take it mucho seriously when he yelps for help from the wasteland known as relationship hell. Figure out what type he is and work with that. And give him a swift kick to the balls if he comes across like a pathetic sod looking to you for “an out,” or a prospect, during Mission Transition.

And now I’m talking to you, shit-for-brains.

If you have to shield your eyes from the glare off her fangs as she cracks what you think is a smile-don’t go back! If making love leaves you satisfied for a short hour then returns you to the shit state and spooky dynamic where every other aspect of communication sucks ass, well, maybe it’s time to shake more than your big cock, ya think?

Shake a leg, instead. Kick her out or relocate your cave. Relationships are like houses. Without the proper upkeep, they crumble and it’s time to get out.

To help out, you’ll find friends are usually good at lending you things like nails to seal the coffin shut. Garlic is cheap. So is holy water and praying. Shamans or psychologists charge the price you’ve already paid in gas alone hightailing it away from her on those violent days. So why not treat yourself? You’re worth it. Say, “I’m worth it.” You’re doing great!

But if friends, God and shrinks aren’t gonna help you leave the vampire-chick who’s driving you batty and causing your diarrhea, I think I have a few stakes lying around here you can use. I don’t care much for them as trophies anymore, for alas, how we carry the battle scars in our hearts forever…

Yes, it is difficult to finally leave the one you love. But what’s sadder is how we, too easily, leave ourselves behind to rot and get mucked in the mire and madness we think is love, but realistically is an unhealthy habit or a bad match.

To hell with all that! Keep the dramatic and oddly seductive violent love bullshit over there. I want my relationships to be life-giving, not life-stealing.

What about you, Lost Boy? Which will you choose?

– Sylvie Hill

Originally published in The Ottawa XPress (VOIR MEDIA), August 4, 2005

There’s much to love about the French – their food, their sexual energy and their movies. Thanks to the French, we’ve learned a thing or two about feeding the stomach, heart and soul. And how to do it with panache.

The baguette is always fresh, French lovers constantly satisfying, and French films consistently inspiring. Even the label on a jar of Les Mets de Provence cucumber soup I bought at Made in France (281B Dalhousie Street) is sensational. It reads: à dêguster froide avec du pain pita pour une mise en bouche exquise. Ah, the French. Making the plainest things poetic-and exquisite.

And have you been to Made in France yet? Shop owners Rebecca Mullin and her partner, Manuel Molina, told Shotgun, “Each time we were coming home from France, we were bringing home suitcases filled with many different things.” They’re excited to be sharing France’s sauces, soups, caramels and more, with a growing clientele in Ottawa.

Et bon, to experience even more French culture, you just have to travel minutes from the shop over the Quebec border where you can venture into la belle province herself.

Have you been to Pied du Cochon in Hull? Or Chelsea’s Pub and l’Orée du Bois just 20 minutes from downtown? Or Wakefield pour un souper formidable à Chez Eric? Take the #43 bus to the heart of Aylmer and prenner une petite pause at the quaint marina en route to Quyon or Luskville car racing. Enjoy une verre de vin pendant le 5 à 7 aux Quatre Jeudis. And here I come St-Hubert resto-who can stay away from your dipping sauce?

And in addition to the great food and adventures, there’s the impressive selection of French films at the Bytowne Cinema and Elgin Street Video Station. Unlike Hollywood flicks, Quebec films tend to focus on dialogue and storylines and real characters you can truly appreciate.

A July 9 article in the Globe and Mail by Konrad Yakabuski explains how homegrown Quebec films like C.R.A.Z.Y. (which has already taken in $3.3 million, putting it in second place overall in Quebec this season behind Star Wars) and Idole Instantanée (Instant Idol) are drawing large audiences to theatres across the province and are expected to do well beyond the border. (Check out XPress’s French sister, Voir, for show times.)

French movies are also an excellent way to get a peek into a culture so near to us and yet so different. For instance, Yakabuski’s same article also lists the movie Aurore as the cinematic event of the summer. The film is based on a true story of child abuse that has been entrenched in the collective Quebec psyche for 85 years, but unfamiliar to anglophones. It’s a phenomenon where “every Quebecker grew up being told, ‘Fais pas ton Aurore,’ or ‘Don’t play the martyr.’ It’s still used by parents to remind overindulged children that they don’t have it so bad … like Aurore did,” wrote Yakabuski.

Another phenomenon experienced very differently by most Quebeckers is le premier juillet. July 1 is moving day in Quebec, so while Ontarians throw street parties to celebrate Canada Day, Quebeckers have street fights for un spot to park le moving van. If they have a van.

It’s an experience you now have a chance to share through Premier Juillet. Released this time a year ago by director Philippe Gagnon through Inis-Relève films in Quebec, it has become one of my favourite summertime movies.

It’s absolutely funny, showing the memorable highs and depressing lows of moving with your parents, with your friends, or lover (and of fighting to save your old sofa from your girlfriend who insists there’s no room for it in the new apartment).

But Premier Juillet is as much about the interior journey from adolescence to coupledom as it is about moving: “These are stages that are really important in your life because you establish your way of living,” Gagnon told Shotgun in a telephone interview from Montreal.

Why do these types of ‘meaningful’ Quebecois movies do so well? (I can’t help but think about 2 Secondes and Un Crabe Dans La Tête.)

C’est simple. “People want to be touched by films,” says Gagnon. Hollywood characters are plastic. “We don’t tend to believe those people when we see them in film.”

Instead, Quebec filmmakers aim to create films where people can identify with the characters. “You want to relate to, maybe not your neighbour, but maybe someone [who is doing something] you want, and can achieve to be happy in life,” he says. (Let’s hope that neighbour isn’t the one from Secret de Banlieue!)

But also, film budgets dictate to “go for the human,” as Gagnon puts it “there is less money to make movies with the special effects you see in shit Hollywood features. Even with lots of cash, I’d like to think Quebec cinema wouldn’t resort to gaudy superficiality unless it really had to.

Gagnon’s goal: “We wanted to show a positive attitude of Quebec society; the people around us are happy, making a nice living, questioning themselves.” And it’s in the honesty of real life that we come to see many of these French stories as sympathique.

Leave it to the French to give even the ordinary that little je ne sais quoi.

– Sylvie Hill

Ottawa XPress – Shotgun – July 21, 2005

I love boys and music. Too bad it’s not as easy to pick up a boy as you might snatch up the latest Oasis CD from your favourite music store.

But an old Ottawa friend who moved to London, U.K. years ago said to me that if your worst problem is your love life then what a luxurious problem to have. This from a guy who was riding the tube between King’s Cross and Russell Square when the bombs hit the British capital’s transit system. This from a guy whose social circle includes rock stars and rockabilly types who make an annual pilgrimage to Las Vegas for some Elvis thing that I don’t quite understand. He is truly living an exciting life.

With so many options and opportunities presenting themselves by the minute, and a social life bustling with a scene, why would he be desperate, or worse – bored?

But hold up. Ottawa had its own vibrant scene during the Bluesfest, and I still don’t have a date!

Well, it wasn’t for a lack of ogling. And my friends and I weren’t the only women drooling. An exceptionally attractive male friend of mine described Bluesfest as one big bar. “I feel dirty,” he said, as he sought protection by my side, away from two cougars who kept turning their heads Exorcist-style in his direction as they spoke loudly of their love for men with beautiful eyes.

Not that I can’t relate. A lethal mix of heat and hangovers eventually made subtlety way too difficult when it came to discussing nearby hotties. We also resorted to overt gestures such as clock references – “Sam Roberts twin at three o’clock!” – while other times we just pointed and stared.

But thanks to this sexual energy, any woes of singledom were lulled in the distraction of nights of fabulous music and super-cute music lovers. The experience reminded us that there are attractive boys living in Ottawa, beyond our male friends and the cliques of local artists and rock stars who are too untouchable or familiar. Whether these hotties were single and remotely interested-or more importantly, interesting – is another story altogether. But one is free to dream, right?

Just being surrounded by them was fun! And for me personally, Shotgun reader, it made me rethink my silly crush on a boy who lives far, far away.

Well, OK – not really. Hell, I was obsessed with seeing his haircut on other dudes and tried to spot legs as hairy, a voice as quiet and a face sculpted as perfectly as his on every brown-haired beauty that walked by. I’m afraid I have found the most handsome man in the universe, dear reader, and I want to marry him in the same spirit we might have married a Popsicle or our favourite Smurfs when schoolyard friends suggested we do so-’cause we enjoyed these things so much.

But outside of any gris-gris voodoo magic à la Dr. John with which I could zap the dude’s innards to fire up an interest in me, the distance is a killer. Talk about the blues…

So here I am, with the festival season over in a month and soon I’ll find myself in some dark bar in Vanier downing Old Milwaukee’s while I recreate Lynn Miles’ Slightly Haunted CD, feeling Slightly Psycho for the desperation. And some of us will be back to thinking O-Town is useless, convinced that luck and love lay elsewhere…

In Quyon, Pontiac perhaps? It’s a small town on the Québec side, past Luskville. It’s a quaint town nestled in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere, a place where my girlfriend and I drove to on an impromptu Saturday afternoon road trip that let me cure my hangover in the luxury of an air-conditioned Ford.

So these Quyon folks? They’re living it up. From the roadside, you could see backyards filled with happy neighbours and kids enjoying lunch and splashing about in inflatable swimming pools. No eye candy. No rock stars.

Until we saw Elvis, patron saint of the lonely-hearted and false-started.

Nailed to the side of a white barn that doubled as the July 1-3 Country Music Jam grounds down by the river, was a wooden Elvis cut-out standing three storeys tall. Like a towering Christ image erected high upon the church of tunes, here was Elvis: who was once so lonely, baby, that he could die-and who did, only to remind us of love’s blues and save us from our sad selves.

Thinking on Elvis, I closed my eyes and pictured the site of the festival jam-packed with Quyonians sucking back O’Keefe and with kids scurrying about eating poutine and candy apples. And it occurred to me that the ideal life I saw them as living wasn’t far off from my own Kodak moments with the girls at Bluesfest, except we drank a better brand of beer. All of a sudden, my summertime high off running into hot babes at Bluesfest was replaced with asexual Vashti Bunyan-like simplicity from a make-believe Quyon countryfest.

I realized maybe life – no matter where you are-is about enjoying the eye candy (or the candy apple), rather than forcing someone to make you the apple of their eye. After all, true love takes time, right?

And, Elvis wasn’t built in a day.

– Sylvie Hill

Ottawa XPress – Shotgun – July 14, 2005

It was only when I was introduced to cartoon characters Jem and the Holograms that I fully grasped the concept that chicks who rocked out could also potentially wield special powers to, figuratively speaking, kick the shit out of evil misfits. Kind of like the musicians taking part in this year’s Live 8 concerts. But they’re not fighting rival bands. They’re helping raise awareness about poverty and injustice. These Live 8 rock stars took to the stage to make a real difference in the world. But is it truly possible to rid the universe of evil with just our Stratocasters?

Albeit with a more modest goal in mind, Ladyfest Ottawa and Toronto’s Shameless Magazine (www.shamelessmag.com) will be joining forces this Saturday July 16 to co-present A Shameless Nation, an all-ages rock show with headliners Lesbians on Ecstasy (Montreal) – who play your favourite lesbian folksongs, electronic-style-as well as SS Cardiacs (Toronto), Les Alumettes (Ottawa) and Jayda (Ottawa). The purpose? To rock out, to have fun and celebrate ladies of all kinds! It’ll be truly, truly, truly outrageous!

So skip out of the Bluesfest for an hour and head down to Saw Gallery, 67 Nicholas Street, just a stone’s throw from City Hall anyway. Tickets $8 advance, $10 door at 7:30 p.m. All ages.

The fabulous all-girl line up is a fundraiser-taster for Ladyfest Ottawa, which takes place September 16, 17 and 18 this year for a weekend of music, workshops (last year’s offerings covered the gamut from “How to strip for your lover” to book-binding), a craft sale and other neat things.

Sure, all this won’t save the galaxy but by creating strong women, would you agree, you’re helping create strong leaders? Leaders who could play some part in helping win even the smallest battles like increasing girls’ self-esteem and obliterating the fear behind trying something new and, or, something typically reserved for boys.

“Ladyfest Ottawa does an amazing job of supporting women artists and musicians,” says Nicole Cohen, co-editor and co-publisher of Shameless, about why the collaboration for the July rock show was so important. Ladyfest and Shameless have similar outlooks on femme-positive initiatives.

Like Ladyfest, Shameless has a growing following, proving that young women want more from their magazines than tips about beauty and boys. The Summer 2005 issue features interviews with comics creators, as well as articles on Montreal’s “skirtboarders” all-girl skateboarding team, video games, being your own bike mechanic, becoming a DJ, a hot new sport called footbagging and much more. Their aim is to “bring independent, alternative media to as many young women in Canada as possible.”

Having enjoyed the first issue of Shameless released last year on a shoestring budget and volunteer help, Sarah Brown, volunteer organizer of Ladyfest told Shotgun that “it seemed like such a good fit” also to have the magazine on board.

Brown says girl-positive events create “a space where women feel comfortable.” For example, with the Ottawa music scene that is largely made up of men, Ladyfest “is that early place where girls can try things out. Ladyfest can help pull them [girls] out of their shell and give them a forum.”

But despite Ladyfest’s focus on ladies, “we’re always really clear that this is a festival that is open to everyone,” Brown says. Being an all-girl, indie event with “alternative” acts can be a bit intimidating to those girls who don’t fit in the scene, no? But Brown assured Shotgun readers this is a friendly event, very open to receiving everyone and all.

Ladyfest has been a success. While there has been a Ladyfest East and Ladyfest Toronto, Ladyfest Ottawa has outlasted them both. This year is the festival’s fourth consecutive run, thanks to a committed group of volunteers and the money raised at shows like the upcoming July gig, which helps pay for the bands, feed guests, rent facilities, run workshops and advertise.

The typical timeline for Ladyfest is: March is planning time, June is a craft sale, July features a show and August will hold “Boys Night Out,” where local guys-in-bands donate talent to raise money for the September festival. It’s not too late to celebrate your ladyhood-be a part of Ladyfest Ottawa 2005! Applications for performers and workshops can be found at: www.ladyfestottawa.com. And, you’re invited to join the girls every Wednesday at 6:30 p.m. at the Second Cup at the corner of Elgin and Lisgar for weekly meetings.

XXX

The number of opportunities in Ottawa and Gatineau for girls to cultivate a skill or craft is on the rise. Take Spins and Needles for example. They make then sell nifty arts and crafts, getting people to rethink the traditional shopping experience. McNabb Community Centre hosts a special all-girls skateboarding slot. R9 Connections have their all-girls snowboarding team. Local female musicians are adding up, with Tanya Janca, Red Fey and Leslie Dishslayer grabbing the mic. And local author Aviva Cohen (Sex and Sublimation) has injected fresh blood into, and I predict will dominate, the female literary scene around here.

With so many broads on the beat, who would want to miss this chance to catch the latest and the greatest in girl-power?

– Sylvie Hill