It's Depressing to Be Depressed in June

There is an old Cracker song that I like called "Big Dipper" and it has a great lyric about being sad in the month of June:

"Hey June
Why'd you have to come around so soon?
I wasn't ready for all this nature.
The terrible green, green grass
The violent blooms on summer dresses
And afternoons that make me sleepy."

Very poetic, I always thought, but I can't honestly say I have ever been depressed in June while the sun is shining and everyone else is happy and out and about. And yet I am. Went spinning tonight, wept in the streetcar coming home. Admittedly, it was to a new Ryan Adams song called "Two." The chorus is "I'm fractured from the fall." And that is precisely how I feel.

My shrink tells me I am still very much grieving, and being almost constantly confronted with upsetting and hurtful information about my ex from too many well-meaning friends -- I seem to have a city filled with them -- and so it is all very natural to still feel so bad. What I love about my shrink is that she herself gets weepy once a session, when I get weepy. Today she said that something I had just told her, while bawling, was one of the most painful things she'd ever heard, tears welling up in her eyes. She even held my hand. I love her. She has been such a godsend to me, and even though she desperately, desperately needs a visit from Stacy and Clinton from What Not to Wear, I really don't care. The sight of her macrame vests and leather skirts are always a sight for sore eyes to me, an oasis of understanding and compassion about the scary demons I have been battling all my life.

Anyway, it is weird being sad during such a lovely month. My kids are heading off on holiday tomorrow for two weeks, to a place and with the family that I love so much but am no longer part of. Perhaps that is also contributing to my profound sadness.

Or maybe I need to stop listening to Ryan Adams, and return to taking pleasure in Paris Hilton's downfall.

Paris Hilton Just Because

Paris Hilton is one of those celebrities whose sheer loathsomeness makes her fascinating to me. I follow her because I despise her, and I have gleefully enjoyed watching the fall -- it has been schadenfreudelicious! Indeed, I sincerely despise her, yet I'm ashamed to admit I was glued to Larry King Live tonight just like all the other losers in North America who find themselves shamefully obsessed with pop culture.

I was nervous about Larry King, because he so often seems like a senile old man who lobs embarrassingly softball questions to people who deserve to be raked over the coals. But in fact, he did ask some questions that made her twitchy. She was so clearly lying when he asked her if she ever did drugs, for example. Her little girl voice briefly returned.

But the best question of all, the one that had me giggling uncontrollably, was when they discussed how she got strip-searched when she showed up for jail.

"Is it as gross as we think it might be?" King asked, and I am quite certain he was in fact referring not to the strip-searching, but to her notoriously STD-infected nether regions. More schadenfreudelight!

I think I like Larry King now. Still despise Paris Hilton, and don't believe a word she said about anything.

Feverish Desire

I have never been much of a gadget person, but I want one. I want one so very, very badly.

And my iPod is on the blink. And I must have an iPod. I can't live without Ryan Adams or Wilco or The Dandy Warhols or Prince right now. But I am broke. But perhaps if I put it on my credit card and paid it off over a few months. Or continue to do as I have been doing, and supplement my income with other odd jobs. By the time it's available in Canada, perhaps I will have even saved enough money to buy one.

All I know is that I dearly, dearly want one. I want one as badly as Tearfree wants that robot vacuum-cleaner. I want one as badly as I want my son not to get into bed with his girlfriend ever again. I really, really want one.

Sorry to interrupt...

I promise to post on Jacy's problem later today, but another pressing issue has come up.

Has anyone tried out robot vacuums like these? According to a dog-walking acquaintance, you just turn them on, set them loose in the house and they vacuum -- and do a really good job -- in your absence. Kind of like the Jetsons.

Of course, this would be a bad idea for Jacy because her son could get up to naughty stuff when he was supposed to be doing household chores like vacuuming.

But I digress. This thing sounds like a dream come true. Anyone tried it?

Sweet Mother of Christ I Need Advice

Today I came home from work and found my 13-year-old son IN BED WITH HIS GIRLFRIEND.

Yes!

I came upstairs and his door was shut so I called him a couple of times and he came flying out with a bathing suit and a T-shirt on. I looked in the room and saw his girlfriend under the covers, apparently wiggling back into a pair of pants.

He JUST TURNED 13!

Stunned, I told him that being in his room in bed with his girlfriend at his age was simply not allowed and was completely inappropriate. He got weepy and told me they weren't doing anything, just cuddling. I said even being in bed just cuddling is simply not allowed.

I then went out into my backyard, completely in shock, and phoned three friends, two of them men.

My girlfriend said: "Holy shit! Get her out of there now and read him the riot act!"

My two male friends said: "Don't freak out. His hormones are out of control. It's normal. Just have a chat with him but don't make too big of a deal out of it." One, the new father of twin girls, even said this: "I feel for you, I really do. But on some level, I am also quite proud of the little guy."

Men. Jesus. Is getting some, no matter what age, always viewed as an achievement and an accomplishment? If he'd been a 13-year-old girl caught in bed with her boyfriend, would anyone say: "Good for her!!!"

No wonder men can be such womanizers and serial monogamists. From a very early age they are taught that getting some tail is something to be proud of.

Anyway, I need some advice. I don't even know exactly what to say beyond what I've already said: It is not to happen again, it is inappropriate, you are not ready physically or emotionally for that kind of relationship, you are not to be in this house alone without calling a parent and letting them know.

Three months ago I was cuddling that little boy in that very bed. Now he's doing dirty things under the covers! My heart!!

UPDATE: So his girlfriend went home and told her mother what had happened, and her mother called me. She is a very cool, very intelligent woman. But she told me that her daughter has occasionally been centred out at school for being sexually aggressive -- GREAT! -- and the mother thinks this is unfair. Meanwhile, my alarm bells are going off, because this girl is someone my older daughter had heard had quite the history. My daughter believes her dear little brother is being perhaps pressured into experimenting before he's ready. His girlfriend certainly looks 16, while my son still looks 10.

But this has just opened a whole other can of worms. Should I really be blaming the girl? I don't think so.

The mother and I agreed that yesterday was totally inappropriate and that some rules are now put firmly in place -- one being they have to let an adult know whenever they are alone in a house together. That they are never to be in the other one's bedroom with the door shut. Etc etc.

All I know is this: it all seems waaaaaayyyyyyyy too early for this to be happening.

Bonne Fête nationale du Québec

In honour of Quebec's fête nationale or what used to be known in less secular times as Saint Jean Baptiste day, here's the link to last year's birthday post on what Quebec really wants.

Kids These Days

Last night I went to a party, an annual event that a close friend of mine has every year. It is always populated with many many people in their early to mid-20s.

Last year, for some reason, I was the life of the party. I don't know what came over me -- but am pretty sure it involved some combination of bong and cocktail shaker -- but I began defacing the young kids' "Hello, My Name is ...." nametags with names I felt better suited them. Or, actually, to be honest, with names that were as far from who they were as possible.

I gave a skinny black kid with dreads, for example, the nametag "Archie Bunker," which he wore with pride. I gave an insecure and shy girl the name "Angelina Jolie." It made her night.

In any event, hilarity ensued and I came up with some real winners. So much so that when I arrived at the party last night, one of the young kids -- an impossibly cute shaggy-haired brunette boy who is barely in his mid-20s -- was wearing a nametag that simply said: "Waiting for Jacy." Apparently this dear boy had saved his nametag from last year's party -- "Flip Wilson," if you're wondering -- and was waiting forlornly for my arrival. This year, I renamed him "Paulie Walnuts." (A disturbing side story to this: this sweet young hottie told my friend he wants to ask me out. Whaaaaat???? I am old enough to be his mother!! What is going on with kids these days?)

Anyway, this year's festivities were not nearly as good as last year's on the nametag front. Firstly, last year's was spontaneous; this year, I felt pressured to come up with clever names. And something even more troubling: many of the young kids had not heard of some famous cultural icons. When I slapped "Bjorn Borg" on a young, slightly overweight Asian who appeared to be a bit of a techno-geek, he didn't know who Bjorn Borg was and neither did his entourage. How the hell can someone not know who Bjorn Borg is???!!??? He was one of the best players ever to play the game!!

Neither, I say with shock, did one girl know who Veronica Lodge is. Veronica Lodge!!!! Another youngster had not heard of Alex P. Keaton.

I Love Lucy had not been on the air for more than 20 years when I was a child, but I still knew all about Fred and Ethel Mertz. And I knew who Joe DiMaggio was too.

I fear for the youth of today.

Hans ist Hier, Alles Toll

So my German houseboy is on the scene and do you know what sound I heard last night at 11 p.m.? It was the sound of someone emptying my dishwasher without being asked to. I am one of those mothers who does everything for my kids because A. it is just the way I am and B. I can't be bothered with the nagging. It's just easier to do it myself.


But to have someone saunter up from the family room and just do it? Gott im Himmel, er ist ein Engel! Ein Engel auf Duesseldorf!!!


Hans is polite, sweet, funny, tall, tidy, easy-going, conscientious, independent, courteous and friendly to the kids and the cats. Franklich, I can simply find nothing wrong with him. He is even cute. Great teeth. He is just turning 20, however, so don't go there, ladies. And besides, you know about my libido troubles. Ewan McGregor in boxers couldn't entice me right now.


I was fairly certain I had scared poor Hans away, however. I had a very weepy morning yesterday filled with self-loathing and I am pretty certain he overheard me bawling and keening into the phone at one point. When I came home from work, he was nowhere to be found and he didn't return until 7:30. I was afraid he was worried he'd moved in with a woman who was "verruckt" and so I was truly relieved when he returned and was as friendly as ever.


Young German houseboys. I highly recommend them!

Is Santa Jewish?

This Site Meter data cried out to be shared with RTK readers, especially the porcelain-skinned ones.
Tearfree's guess is that The Man is aniticipating a lot of Crocs requests for Christmas and wants to protect himself against any possible frivolous lawsuits.

Also notable is that the visitor's exit page was the most movie-worthy Jewish Canadian man contest.

Super hmmm.

Despite that provocative Alaska address, Canada claims the North Pole. We all know that Santa works Xmas Eve instead of spending it with his family. Could we be on to something here?

With one voting day left, do we have a new write-in contender on the ballot?

Memories of Being Raised by a Tan-aholic

My mother was one of those weird sun-tanning freaks who would lie out all day with the aluminum sheet under her face just as soon as the snow melted. By summer's end, she was the colour of someone born in Sri Lanka. Most of the photos of my mother, in fact, involve her lying or sitting in the sun, sometimes with one of her alabaster-white babies next to her, a smoke in her hand. "Who's the Jamaican nanny?" my dead friend Dave once remarked upon spying a childhood photo in our house.

Here's the trouble, however. My father was extremely fair-skinned. And so too were their children, especially my sister, all peaches-and-cream freckles. My brother and I got a slight touch of my mother's strange WASP olive-skin thing, and we tan quite nicely but still have to watch ourselves or we get burned. But my mother refused to accept that any of us couldn't get as brown as she was. And so ALL SUMMER LONG, she was constantly on our backs to get browner.

You heard me right. While other mothers nagged primarily about room-cleaning, pet-tending and chores, my mother also nagged us about tanning. Admittedly, this was before anyone had heard of skin cancer. But still. What kind of woman orders her freckle-faced, lily-white daughter who's on the verge of blistering back into the sun with the shrieking declaration: "Your back isn't done yet!!!!" As though she were a lamb chop placed under the broiler. And despite her pleas for mercy.

My mother even had a sunlamp and when we returned from southern vacations, she would order us kids to sit in front of it in order to hold onto our tans. I wish I was kidding. I am not. My late father became so sickened by this tanning obsession that he once, in anger, called her "Walletface."

My own daughter is as fair-skinned as my sister. And it is lovely. I covet her porcelain complexion. Of course, she hates it. But here is a classic story involving my mother, who despite getting pre-cancerous growths dug out of her skin regularly, still insists everyone looks better with a suntan.

On my daughter's eighth-grade graduation, she descended the stairs looking lovely in a strapless black and white dress. I almost wept, she was so beautful. What did my mother say? "You sure could use some sun!!!!'' I wanted to belt her, and I am not a physically violent person.

Strangely, my mother wonders why we all have issues with her.

Peace out

Last week we had a hippie girl named Sage de-rusting and repainting the wrought iron balcony railings. Tearfree's daughter claimed that when she left one day, she said, "Peace out." But because we had been making so many hippie chick jokes, Tearfree wasn't quite sure whether her daughter was exaggerating or not.

Yesterday, however, a rather rude young man named Alexi, signed a comment about RTK's Most Movie-Worthy Jewish canadian Man contest, "You all are merely dumb. Peace out."

This struck Tearfree as two rather incompatible sentiments for juxtaposition so she headed to the Urban Dictionary where she discovered this completely ridiculous definition:


So Alexi, peace out.

With three voting days left, Cohen looks set to win most movie-worthy Jewish Canadian man

Monday update: Sentimental favourite Leonard Cohen appears to have the competition sewn up. Unless the Bubbies come back strong for Brandon, the menopausal women rally for Rick, or Leonard is disqualified for being a Buddhist, the ageing songster will grab the title.

Only three days left to vote.



The people have spoken out against against Rebecca Eckler 's dissing of Jewish Canadian men. They are furious that one of the reasons Eckler believes Knocked Up was stolen from her is because the hit movie's hero is a Canadian Jewish man, a character the author wrote couldn't possibly "add value."

Now, after three days of intensive voting, RTK can officially announce the nominees for the title of most movie-worthy Jewish Canadian man.

Please vote for the guy who you think is hottest and/or whose life has the most dramatic potential to be turned into a Hollywood screenplay.

• Leonard Cohen The sentimental favourite and apparently he could really use the money. Plus, musician biopics are all the rage.
• The Reichmanns A strong contender. Fiddler on the Roof meets Wall Street with a great ensemble cast.
  
• Evan Solomon A hot alternative. Lightweight but cute, up-and-coming male journo gets pregnant in a high-concept Junior remake.
• Rick Salutin A long shot. Lefty boomer lady fans rocked the vote asking for an updated version of my My Dinner with Andre.
• Brandon Schwartz An unknown but much loved pediatric cardiologist from Forest Hill. Last King of Scotland meets Grey's Anatomy.

P.S. Although several readers thought Christopher Plummer aka Captain Von Trapp was an Austrian/Canadian Jew, this is not the case.
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Important notice for foreign readers: You do not have to be Canadian to vote.

Great Nancy Drew article

When I was a kid I just loved the girl detective, so much so that I might even go to see the new movie. In the mean time though, this is a very informative article. It's the first time, I've ever gotten an explanation for why the old blue covered books (from the '30s) were so different from the yellow ones from the '50s and on. Plus, if you were ever tortured by the harridans who ran the children's library, you'll shiver with schadenfreude at the exposure of their bed decisions.

And BTW, am I the only one who thought Hannah Gruen was black?

And Another Thing to Miss About Having a Man in the House

Not only would it be nice to have someone other than myself palming my own arse and saying: "Wow! Your bum is getting rock-hard!" but I miss having a man's boxer shorts in the house.

When the weather gets hot, I would always wear my husband's boxers with a tank top to bed. One big reason: If you're kicking your blankets off all night and you're wearing a nightie, who knows what the kids might see when they come into your room in the morning? I tend to be a sprawler and a splayer while sleeping. No child should have to see their mother in such a state.

As well, a men's pair of boxers are very comfy. And my husband used to get totally turned on when I donned his undies, or any of his clothing, come to think of it. Hmmmmmm. Interesting, when you think about it. No self-love issues there, I guess.

But anyway, my love of mens' underwear is lifelong. I used to even steal my nephew's undies when they came to stay so that I would have the odd pair around, before there was a steady man in my life.

I so miss the men's undies that yesterday I went out a bought a pair of Calvin Klein black cotton boxers, size small. I am wearing them right now, with a tank top. I have rarely been so comfortable, even though my bum and legs are seriously burning right now after a 90-minute spin class conducted by a sadist who only gave us a one-minute cool-down. Thank goodness I knew I was coming home to Calvin Klein. I bet he appreciates my arse!

New Muscle Discovered

Yesterday while palming my own arse for reasons I cannot really recall right now -- relief that it has rebounded from its flat phase that resulted from lying in bed for four months weeping bitterly? -- I realized that I have a muscle in a place where I do not believe a muscle has ever been before.

After three months of pretty routine spinning, I now have muscles at the top of my arse. Yes, where the spare tire and back fat can usually be found -- suddenly, rock-hard muscle.

I don't mind saying I am quite pleased. If only all the fat on my body, however, would shrink and be similarly replaced by granite-esque muscle. Oh what a happy day that will be!

Croc Alert: Cute Celebrity Baby Now Spotted in Them

First George W. Bush, then Tanya Espanya, and now little Violet Affleck. The dangerous Croc craze is spreading far and wide!

More photos

This time we've found secret shots of the mystery man. No wonder he's sparking so much excitement.

Tearfree repents, takes it all back

Yet another correction. I was wrong again.

Those rumours about the photos. They turned out to be true.

Here they are.

I would have liked to get the scoop myself, but at least it went to one of my favourite bloggers. Be sure to read the comments.

Fond Memories of Boyfriends Past

I was out recently with a very close friend who I have known for most of my life, also unlucky in love, and we tried to list the things we liked about all our old boyfriends. Now this was tricky, because, unlike me, my friend instantly despises her ex-boyfriends as soon as they become exes, and can't remember a single thing she ever liked about them.

I tend to go the other way. I usually really liked the people I went out with, and almost every relationship I ever had started out after quite a long friendship, so I customarily stay quite close to them after we break up too. This has very often not been a smart thing to do.

I imagine the smart thing to do is a happy medium. Stay polite and friendly, don't hate because why hate -- you liked them enough to go out with them, and then you really loved them, so how can you cut them off and hate them? But, you know, chatting routinely or leaning on them for emotional support long after you've ended it -- wrong, wrong, wrong, recipe for disaster, wrong, wrong, I repeat, all wrong.

But anyway, I forced her to list some things she liked and/or remembered fondly and some of them were pretty funny. She liked one guy's Clash record collection, filled with all sorts of rare bootlegs -- it kept her with him for year longer than she should have. She liked another guy's feet, describing them as works of art that made her want to do dirty things to them. And just like Carrie in Sex and The City, she once stayed with a guy for far too long because she adored his mother.

Some of my funny ones? I liked a guy's dog, named Bill. A great German shephard who I loved so much that I turned a blind eye to his owner's philandering ways. I even vacuumed that dog one night when he was shedding. He loved me, and I loved him.

Another guy's lips were tough to shake. His mouth was so pillowy, so Angelina Jolie-ish, that we would frequently have hourlong conversations with our lips pressed together when we were dating. He also liked when I sang. I would turn him onto good bands, he would make me sing their best songs, and despite my utter inability to sing, he would beam with love as I warbled.

Both my friend and I remembered most fondly the exes who made us laugh. The dog-owner, in fact, could reduce me to sobs of laughter in no time at all (he is still a good friend, in fact, and every time I talk to him -- once a month or so -- I end up howling). So could the chronic dope-smoker and occasional rage-aholic. So in fact could Larry Lips.

Someone who can cause you to be sick with laughter on a routine basis, in fact, can really cause a girl to overlook a lot of flaws. Something I must keep in mind if a hilarious suitor shows up any time soon.

Wheel and wheel-stopper reinvention

Tearfree has complained about wheel reinvention before. She's not fond of those who claim they're offering startling new insights when really all they're doing is rehashing old ideas, of which -- due to lack of perspective, historical or otherwise -- they remain blissfully unaware.


But wheel reinvention doesn't begin and end with self aggrandizement. There's another type of even more bizarre wheel reinvention, or perhaps we should call it wheel worsification, where you take perfectly good wheels and make them worse.

Yesterday, while reading one of those Web 2.0 magazines where they report breathlessly on the wonders of all the latest gadgets, Tearfree discovered that three bicyle manufacuring giants have engaged in some wheel worsification of their own by introducing a "new" wheel-stopping technology. In describing the new Trek Lime bike, Business 2.0 wrote that it has "coasting brakes, like the ones on your first bike" and that said brakes "eliminate those clumsy levers on the handlebar."

Clearly whoever wrote that never rides a bike and hasn't ridden a bike with coaster brakes since childhood. Every summer at her mother's house, Tearfree almost kills herself at least once a season due to coaster brakes. They are horrible and the experts concur. And just for the record, Tearfree considers herself an expert on bike safety too, given that she rides through downtown Montreal traffic regularly.

Official RTK correction

Almost two weeks ago, before the Knocked Up lawsuit hit the headlines, Tearfree wrote that two Mummy bloggers and writers, Devra Renner and Aviva Pflock, were spreading false information by writing that Knocked Up, the movie, was loosely based on Knocked Up, the book. At that time neither Tearfree nor Devra nor Aviva knew anything about the lawsuit or what was about to hit the fan.

As soon as Devra and Aviva got wind of it, however, they immediately set the record straight.

They in no way attempted to spread false information. In fact if anyone was spreading false information, it was Tearfree since she was falsely accusing Devra and Aviva of spreading false information, when they had, in fact, already corrected their mistake.

Hope that clears it all up. If anyone else has anything that needs correcting, please let Tearfree know.

More frivolous lawsuit nonsense

Another Canadian drinks the Kool-Aid.

If you've had enough already, do something that doesn't involve lawyers and go vote for the most movie-worthy Jewish Canadian man.

Everyone copies Tearfree

Patricia Pearson has stolen Tearfree's story, which we broke last week here at RTK , with a little help in the comments from our Deep Throat source, Jane Doe.

Pearson not only makes the same basic point Tearfree did but she also cites the Malcolm Gladwell article RTK linked to last Tuesday and uses the word Zeitgeist, a mot juste employed by Tearfree several days earlier when she referred to cute kids and Cosmos being in keeping with the Zeitgeist.

So, never mind that Pearson wrote the book or that the Gladwell article is a common point of reference in the many current discusssions about plagiarism or that female journos of a certain age like to throw around big German words to show that they're smarter than girl reporters, this can't be just a coincidence.

Or can it?
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Meanwhile in Poland, it seems that the Polish president's wife, Maria Kaczyski, is also copying Tearfree. First, Tearfree posed for a sepia-tinted photo with her dog to show off their similar hairstyles. And now, with Tearfree's dog blog exposing scandals in the U.S. and becoming the number one source for Scottish Terrier news, Mrs. Kaczyski has gone and had herself photographed in the same manner right down to the similar hairstyles.

You, dear readers, can decide whether it's all just a coincidence.

Vicious internet rumour

Update: It's all true. President George Bush is photographed wearing crocs.

RTK has been getting a lot of hits from people looking for incriminating photos of a certain deeply unpopular figure.

Tearfree does not, however, believe that said photos exist. As an expert on the subject in question who carried out some preliminary research when Sitemeter started showing a steady stream of referrals, it is her considered opinion that the photo rumour has many of the qualities of an urban myth.

Until further evidence emerges, that is her position.

Brief Libido Reawakening

Remember I mentioned my libido is dead? It came alive yesterday. My estranged husband dropped by and he looked hot. Very hot. Great haircut, slim ... I literally became over-heated and started yammering nonsensically about having to turn the air conditioning on because I was suddenly extremely warm and he pointed out, gently, that it really wasn't so hot out and perhaps I should open the windows?

I am glad to know my libido has not died for good. Nice to know it's still there, lying dormant under the pain and fear of ever being intimate with anyone again in my life. But on the other hand, it's probably not good that the only person who seems able to reawaken it walked out of here six months ago and is dating someone with a "sad" rack.

Oh dear.

Must go spinning again, I guess. And soon.

And by the way, I looked good too because I was on my way out to a reception and in a cocktail dress and heels. I caught him checking me out, particularly my apparently not-sad rack, which he had trouble tearing his eyes from, and my legs, which he also perused frequently (tanned and toned right now -- thank you spinning and thank you morning ritual of eating my breakfast on the back deck in my nightie). But so what? I didn't see him fanning himself and telling me to turn the AC on. He merely stammered at first as he checked me but then recovered.

Oh dear. Spinning, avocadoes, yoga .... what a bore.

Eckler, Apatow, Knocked Up lawsuit blogging (Completely updated Friday June 8)

Unless there are any startling new developments in the lawsuit of the month, our daily coverage is now over. This is because we want readers to focus on finding previous examples of the work Rebecca Eckler claims is original and to contribute to our crowd-sourcing experiment.


Thanks to alert RTK readers, we have already uncovered two examples of previous use of a Martini glass and pacifier illustration. Melissa of Surburban Bliss says in the comments: "Bad Mother's Club appears to have started using the binky/martini logo in the UK around the same time I did in the US. The owner of Bad Mother's Club and I had a discussion about the situation in February. My logo was created for me by a friend in 2004. I have a trademark on it."

The U.S. edition of Eckler's book using the pacifier/Martini glass theme appeared in 2005. Mr. Google informs us that not only have pastel covers and martini glasses been a staple of chick lit for years but so have articles complaining about their overuse.

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Eckler's suspicions were also triggered by the fact that Knocked Up features a hero who's a Canadian Jewish man, a scenario which she speculates couldn't possibly "add value" so must have been stolen from her. RTK readers completely disagree, however, and have compiled a list of Jewish Canadian Men who deserve to have a movie made about them or to star in a leading role. Candidates so far include Seth Rogen himself, Leonard Cohen and some Bubbie's cardiologist grandson. The finalists are in so go vote.
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On the originality of men feeling awkward in the OB/Gyn doc's office, a number of readers have pointed to Ross in Friends. What with the Rachel and Phoebe pregnancies, this would seem like fertile ground, so to speak, but we need some links and more specifics.

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Reader Jane Doe has injected more controversy into this affair by pointing out another Canadian writer's book, Playing House by Patricia Pearson, which has even been made into a movie of its own. Jane comments that it's about "an underemployed, pot-smoking Canadian guy in New York (who) gets his brand-new girlfriend, an up an coming journalist, pregnant, and they cope ambivalently and uncertainly with getting to know one another as the pregnancy grows? Do I win?"

Well, you're definitely a strong contender.

Update: Pearson gives her version of events and Tearfree speculates on where she got it from.

Update: Scroll down or click here for way more examples all in a pretty pink font. C'mon everyone, get cracking if you want to snatch victory from Jane Doe's grasp.

Update 2: Strong evidence is emerging of major Sex and the City "influences," thanks to astute commenters.

Update 3: Have Eckler's lawyer, Gary Gorham, and his partners lost their heads? This legal site makes a convincing case that they have.

Update 4: And because we are nothing if not open minded, we present the case for the plaintiff.

Update 5: Eckler parodist Nine Gram Brain has found the smoking gun. It's the line at the end where Allison says, "My ass is fat."

Back by Popular Demand: Spinning Tales and How To Beat The Arse Pain

I have no secrets to impart here. I didn't buy the padded shorts. I just "worked through it," and, almost disturbingly, my ass no longer hurts. Does this mean it is calloused? I simply do not know.

One thing I can say, though: I have always had a cushy JLo bum. And suddenly, I think I feel bum muscles when I lie in the bath. Yes, I think I have glutes. It is freaking me out. Three spinning sessions a week for two months has apparently given me muscles in places I didn't know they existed. And I am actually starting to notice men checking out my bum on the street, another very odd occurrence that hasn't happened routinely to me in about 10 years.

So to all your spinners out there converging upon Reject the Koolaid for spinning arse pain advice, all I can say is that eventually, as your muscles build up, your arse will no longer hurt. Just work through it, as they say in spinning circles!!!! Or, if you have a very bony bum, buy the padded shorts.

But seriously folks... (Updated)

For upated material, go here and be sure to vote in RTK's Most Movie-worthy Jewish Canadian Man poll.
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In Tearfree’s non-RTK life, she ponders more serious journalistic concerns. Along with writing about crazy things like Rebecca Eckler controversies, Crocs and Dr. Oetker, she’s also interested in intellectual property, how the Internet’s changing journalism and related esoteric topics like crowd sourcing.

She is therefore proposing to bring her many interests together and use this Rebecca Eckler, Judd Apatow, Knocked Up lawsuit story as an experiment in crowd sourcing.

Eckler has made known several of the reasons why she believes the filmmakers copied her book. All of them strike Tearfree as completely unconvincing and as someone who works in a field where lawsuits over copyright and plagiarism are becoming more common, Tearfree is worried about the chilling effect frivolous legal actions can have. She does not think it's a good thing when wheel reinventing writers like Eckler get lawyers involved because, as the author declared today on CBC radio: "No one had written about it before me."

Tearfree therefore invites her readers to participate in the RTK crowd-sourcing experiment. Participants look for prior examples of all the ideas Eckler believes originated with her. We already have some of this going on with the Martini glass/pacifier illustration, which has been used by at least two other Mummy writers (although it still needs to be established when they initially appeared.)

Participants can use any research methods they choose but will get extra points for sticking with sources that anyone can access via the Internet. We are looking for references to the following topics, made prior to 2004, when the book Knocked Up first appeared. so far, our brilliant readers and commenters have contrinuted the following:

1) Martini glass and pacifier illustrations and logos
See comments and June 7 post above.

2) Ambivalent pregnant women surrounded by best friends and family with screaming kids
Anonymous commenter cites early SATC episode "when the four women go out of town to a former wild girl's baby shower and all the pastel-clad mothers there are repressed wild girls themselves with unbearable screaming children." Admittedly, Carrie et al aren't pregnant but are nevertheless appalled.

3) Women taking multiple pregnancy tests
Kate cites Sliding Doors: "Gwyneth Paltrow, 1998 - her character thinks she might be pregnant and in a later scene announces to her roommate that she took six home pregnancy tests and all were positive."

4) Books, movies, sitcoms whose up-and-coming heroines work in media

A very prolific Anonymous cites:

Films: What Women Want, How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days, Hitched, The Devil Wears Prada
The Hours (Nicole Kidman plays writer Virginia Woolf), My Best Friend’s Wedding (Julia Roberts plays a food critic who writes for a newspaper)

Television Shows: Murphy Brown, 30 Rock, Ugly Betty, Just Shoot Me, Sex in the City

Books: The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath (character works for a magazine), The Devil Wears Prada by Lauren Weisberger, Wasted by Marya Hornbacher (Marya works for a newspaper), Emily’s Quest by Lucy Maude Montgomery (Emily works to be a writer)

Another Anonymous suggest this site which tracks the image of the female journalist in popular culture.

Jane Doe cites the book and movie Playing House by Patricia Pearson in which "an underemployed, pot-smoking Canadian guy in New York gets his brand-new girlfriend, an up an coming journalist, pregnant, and they cope ambivalently and uncertainly with getting to know one another as the pregnancy grows."

5) Jokes about sex while pregnant hurting in-utero kid
Anonymous cites Miranda of SATC having sex during pregnancy and the pair joking "Where do you think dimples come from?"

6) Jokes and comments relating pregnancy and trampolines
Nothing so far.

7) Worrying about telling your boss you’re pregnant
Anonymous cites "Miranda wanting to keep her pregnancy secret from her law firm because she predicts a slow demotion once the news comes out." Another Anonymous cites "Novel: Diary of a Mad Mom to Be by Laura Wolf."

8) Buying pregnancy books immediately after getting pregnant
Anonymous cites "Novel: Diary of a Mad Mom to Be by Laura Wolf."

9) Being “grossed out about what you read about the growing fetus”
Anonymous cites "Novel: Diary of a Mad Mom to Be by Laura Wolf."

10) Men’s behaviour at the obstetrician for pregnancy check-up appointments.
Several commenters cite Ross in Friends, The One With the Sonogram at the End
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The contest is still open and there's lots of good material in the comments.

Please cite references and if possible provide publishing dates.

Although we do not yet have a prize to offer, if this project is successful Universal Studios may very well throw in an all-expenses-paid trip to Hollywood worth the value of legal costs saved thanks to RTK.

For the record, Tearfree does feel a little guilty about launching an experiment that may help out a giant enertainment conglomerate given the industry's own reputation for legal bullying, but life is full of difficult choices so go out and fight the good fight for freedom of ideas and creativity. Maybe we can even get Universal Studios to see the light too.

(Aspiring journalists, please note that your career depends on understanding networked journalism (See point 7 especially.) Feel free to join right in.)

Breaking News

Another scoop! No wonder we are known as the number one investigative blog on this crazy old beat.

More Eckler vs. Apatow: Smoking gun II

Further to our first Martini glass cover post, a reader pointed us toward this article written in 2004:

"So what would happen if a young woman did write a sharp, brilliant new novel -- a portrait of the artist as a young woman in the city?" Weinberg asks. "Its publishers would wrap it in pink, slap a martini glass on the cover, and get Anna Maxted to blurb it."

Nothing Makes You Feel Like More of a Superwoman Than an Hour-long Run

Oh dear. I hate to break up this delightful Eckler-Apatow party, particularly since Tearfree is clearly becoming the Web's authority on all things related to the dispute.

But I'll just bring it back to me for a moment. Since, after all, I have indeed become every bit the self-absorbed narcissist as that famous Mommee blogger.

I had a trying 24 hours. Last night someone I trust told me something about my ex that was terribly hurtful. I cried all night. And today, spinning for the fourth time in five days because I find it is the only thing that whacks down my depression, I actually wept on the bike.

But anyway. I recommend all of you depressed out there just start working out, hard. The spinning/hot yoga/walking 10K twice a week regimen has really helped to lift me out of a black pit. While I am still sad and sincerely pine for my ex despite the hurtful thing I heard and bawled to all my friends about, at least I don't want to hide sobbing all day in my closet anymore.

However, despite all the spinning and the downward-facing dogs, nothing really compares to the high of an hour-long run.

The other day I screwed up and went to go to a spinning class and realized I'd missed the last class of the day. And I was all psyched for an hourlong cardio extravaganza. So instead, I decided I would ignore the fact that I have very little cartilege in my left knee, put on a brace, and go for a run. It is the first time I have run in two or three years. And I managed to go for an hour! Thank you, spin class!

And let me tell you, a person feels like a real superwoman upon completing an hour-long run. I felt like I'd just won Olympic gold. There is something about the way that people on the street look at you almost sheepishly and admirably as you go speeding by that really elevates you. I was on a complete running high for hours. And then I had the best two-hour nap I'd had in months.

So now I have decided I am going to get my feet fitted for orthotics in the hopes that might help my knee. I figure if I continue to spin twice a week, do hot yoga once a week, and run once or twice, I am doing well. Yes, I have lost weight and that is nice, but most importantly, all this exercise really does help a person's mental health. I should have always been exercising -- it would have helped me deal with my demons much more appropriately and healthily.

I highly recommend a serious exercise regime to anyone heartbroken, haunted, bitter, sad or simply just blue. Perhaps Judd and Rebecca might consider some hearty exercise in these terribly trying times.

And now, we comfort the afflicted -- again

Just another reminder that we're not all about afflicting the comfortable.

Defending Canadian Jewish men

Update: The finalists are in. Please, go vote.

In her piece in Maclean's on why she believes Judd Apatow stole the idea for Knocked Up from her, Rebecca Eckler says that it's highly unlikely that anyone else could come up with the idea of a Canadian Jewish man as the hero of a Hollywood movie.

Well, in recent days Tearfree has been flooded with e-mail from irate Canadian Jewish mothers asking her to set the record straight.

So here goes, RTK is starting a list of Canadian Jewish men fit to have a Hollywood movie made about them. First off, Tearfree's contributions:

John M. Rosen The Toronto lawyer. Here's a guy who can defend Paul Bernardo and still come off looking a whole lot better than the IP legal crew chasing copyright infringement ambulances. Plus, he has great suits.

Julius Grey A high-profile Montreal lawyer with a certain je ne sais quoi even if he doesn't have Rosen's suits.

Apologies that they're both lawyers, but it's a demographic reality in analyzing populations of Jewish men.

This is so French

Despite having blogged about the French election race and being committed to keeping track of crazy French goings-on, Tearfree somehow managed to overlook this amazing fact about the new president's wife:

Cecilia met Nicolas Sarkozy in 1984 when he officiated as mayor at her first wedding. According to a recent biography, he was infatuated by her on the spot and pursued her till their marriage 12 years later.

Someone should make a movie about that.

Famous Canadian journo changes mind about plagiarism

"The final dishonesty of the plagiarism fundamentalists is to encourage us to pretend that these chains of influence and evolution do not exist, and that a writer's words have a virgin birth and an eternal life."

Read the whole thing to use another famous blogger's phrase.

Eckler vs. Apatow: Piercing question

As news that Rebecca Eckler is suing Judd Apatow over the movie Knocked Up made headlines in Toronto and Los Angeles yesterday, a certain 12-year-old of my acquaintance asked: "If he really did steal the idea wouldn't he change the title?"

Good point.

More Eckler vs. Apatow: Smoking gun

Hope it's not the Martini glass with the pacifier, otherwise known as the Momtini.

-RTK: Number one blog for frivolous IP suits

RTK: A blog that offers help and solutions

The Internet is a wonderful thing. Consider for example the predicament of this poor person in Manila. Desperately afflicted with a problem too taboo to mention, he or she goes to the computer searching for a solution. And presto, within nanoseconds help is in sight at RTK:



Yes, earlier this spring, RTK's Jacy shattered taboos and blogged about the same problem in a plaintive post entitled "Spinning: How does one get past the arse pain?"

Tanya Espanya and Tearfree offered solutions, which will, with any luck, also work for our Filipino spinner.

-RTK: Number one blog for spinners with problems too taboo to mention offline

More lawsuit news

$1.8 MILLION JUDGMENT FOR INTELLECTUAL PROPERTY INFRINGEMENT

The Court awarded damages in the amount of $1.8 million in addition to attorneys fees and other costs.

-RTK: Number one blog for frivolous IP suits

OK everyone, take a deep breath

Things have been pretty crazy at RTK lately as new visitors are arriving in droves to find out about the Rebecca Eckler/Judd Apatow lawsuit and the "journalism professor" who regularly "attacks" the plaintiff named in these court documents.

At such a time it is important to remember the RTK mission statement, that we are here to keep track of the absurd, and we cover lots of other ridiculous trends, things, people and ideas, many of which are far more important in the grand scheme of things.

New readers might not have known, for example, that Tearfree, is a top journalist on the Dr. Oetker beat. As these Site Meter reports show, readers from around the world arrive at this blog daily to find out more about mysterious Herr Doktor Oetker and his increasing prominence on supermarket shelves:

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Provincial bloggers, their hysterical fans and even star Hollywood directors need to learn that Dr. Oetker is a whole lot more important than they are out there in the real world, as this Google Trends report demonstrates:


*If you don't see the yellow line, that's because it's not there

Tearfree acknowledges, however, that this latest Eckler/Apatow Knocked Up controversy is indeed going to be around for a while so she'll be back as soon as possible with her thoughts on plagiarism, copyright, etc. We've touched on crazy intellectual property and patent infringement cases in the past -- RIM, Crocs and even Dr. Oetker himself with regard to the invention of baking powder -- but now it looks like the moment is right for a full-fledged investigation. Stay tuned. And in the mean time, check out the Nine Gram Brain satire.

Siamese Cat Home Invasion

I have three cats, as mentioned. Sometimes they run around all night playing and hissing and running around -- I have learned pretty much to sleep through it, though sometimes shout out for them to "SHUT up!!!!!"

It has been very hot where I am right now, so the windows are open because I don't like to turn on the AC until I feel near death. Last night something seemed a bit off in kitty-cat land. I heard the running around but amid the pitter-pat of little feet and apparent play-fighting, I heard a strange yowling. Strange as in it seemed to be coming from another cat. I heard a pair of hissing cats go barrelling down the stairs at 4 a.m. and then heard the yowling again, this time in the living room. I got up to investigate, and found my sweet little female cat, Coco, cornered, hissing and quivering in the face of a Siamese cat eyeballing her and emitting that unmistakeable Siamese growl.

I had never seen the cat before and still can't quite figure out how it got in the house since the only window open without a screen was on the third floor, with no trees within jumping distance.

I had to grab the little Siamese, who twisted around and tried to come at me, and hurl him out the back door. Coco has been walking around all day, scared witless that around every corner, that weird little Siamese cat is going to leap out at her. She has practically been clinging to me all day.

I have had a racoon home invasion, a bat home invasion, and now a Siamese cat home invasion. All because I like to keep my windows open. Being an environmentalist sometimes doesn't pay.

Important Notice

There's a rule in PR that if you want to bury a story, you should announce it on a Friday afternoon. This also holds true if you want to publish a false story.

Tearfree is not repeat not Nine Gram Brain although Tearfree is indeed a "former" journalism professor. If you read her Rate My Professors posts and the actual ratings, you would know why that's former -- as of yesterday, as a matter of fact.

Furthermore, Tearfree does indeed know the true identity of her internet friend, Nine Gram, but like a good reporter she is sworn to protecting her sources.

Now, we must all await Nine Gram's post on this case of mistaken identity.