Was on the ergocycle last night, with the World Cup final starting on the tube. It sure makes the monotony less, well, monotonous. So, blah blah blah, Ron MacLean is there, performing his usual sycophantic shtick, Kelly Hrudy has his I-peed-my-pants stupid grin, and Brian Burke is standing there, looking like he wants to hit Ron MacLean. Just another hockey night in Canada, folks across the country are having sex doggy-style (so they can both watch the game, dontcha know?), and I’m having my pudendal artery crush by the bike seat. Same old, same old. After five minutes of that drudge, it’s time for the national anthems. The cycle-ops is making a lot of noise, so I really can’t hear much, but I’ve got to say that that Roman Panokov (or whatever) guy looks like he’s smashed a few guitars and mike-stands in his time. Can you say ex-angry punk rocker?
But then? Horror of horrors, it’s Canada’s answer to Vitamin C, Sass Jordan herself, dressed in I-don’t-fucking-know-what, strides on to sing Canada’s song. Oy, from backup singer to the Box (remember them?), to regional-one-hit-wonder, to declared lesbian when her career was going nowhere (hey, it kinda worked for Sinead and more for kd), to now what? Riiight, she’s got a gig as one quarter of a bunch of nobodies paid to flatter a batch of upcoming never-weres on Canadian Idol. Make us proud there, luv. Anyhow… like I said, she comes on and does her downtown dirty rendition of the anthem. In English. Only in English. Wow. Classless.
I’m not political, and I’m not overly sensitive, but that just struck me as weird. I understand that learning five lines in French might have been asking a bit too much of the old hag, but still.
Oh, and would it be okay to admit that I heart Colin and Christie? And, yes, it’s a fixation, but Phil? When we said to put a sock in it, we were being figurative. Yowza!