Happy-Go-Slumdog

There are 2.5 things I'm friggin' in love with right now.



The first is Slumdog Millionaire.

Oh, you've heard of it?

I can't help but fall in love along with the masses. It's an amazing movie. Hauntingly alive and desperately human. It resonates with love and passion for damn good filmmaking. Danny Boyle is the man. He won my heart with 28 Days Later and never gave it back.


The second is Happy-Go-Lucky. It's another Oscar contender rubbing elbows with the Benjamin Buttons and the literate Kate Winslets, but all the big kids are kinda hogging the spotlight.

Doesn't phase the good people behind this movie though. "It's all part of it" as Poppy would say. She's the adorable and colorful leading lady you see beaming away in the stripes there. She makes me wonder if I need to be a nicer person, but also grabs me by my heels and brings me back down to earth to share a laugh about it. If life is one big roller coaster then people like Poppy are riding in the front car.



The final .5 is M.I.A.


Let it be known folks, by no means is she half of anything. She's the entire package!

She's an artist who grew up in Sri Lanka, India and the UK and now she makes incredible music from one of the most genuinely artistic (and badass) souls I've seen.

She also contributed to the score for Slumdog Millionaire. That endeavor banked a nom at the Oscars. It's yours my dear! It has to be.

M.I.A. aka Missing in Action. Ugh, so cool. She makes me wanna copy that t-shirt.

I just might.

The Intervention: Follow-up

My name is Ian.

I-A-N.

I used to have a messy room... but not anymore!

Before...

... after!

I admit. It felt good to sleep in a clean room with springtime fresh sheets. I just hope I can keep it up! Especially now that all of Calgary is aware of my old *ahem* habits.

But check it... the cleaning bug bit hard this week and I was even motivated enough to tackle the post-holiday mess that was left in the living room.

You know how it goes... January hits, and you just can't muster up the energy after weeks of lethargic gluttony.

Ain't no thang really, it happens to us all... but the difference is pretty rad.

Before...

... after!

Ahhhh... it feels good to get clean. Now to tackle that crack addiction... (kidding!)

Seacrest Snubbed

Did you see it? Did you seeeeeeeee it!?!?

The Golden Globe red carpet on E was freakin' hilarious... and here's why.

Poor Ryan Seacrest. He's the golden prince of Hollywood... but Saint Angelina and her whipping boy are having none of it...

Seacrest's powers have no jurisdiction in their realm of the celebrity hierarchy, Brangelina is just that mighty.

In fact, I feel I should advise Kate Winslet to disappear for a few days until that "other one" comment is forgotten.

Assuming Angelina doesn't hold a grudge anyway... hmmm...

The Intervention

Oh, How embarassing...

Alright, so on Friday's show it came to light that I haven't changed my bed sheets in about, oh, twelve weeks or so (give or take).

Gross? Yes, yes, I know. Truthfully, I've just never put that much thought into the matter of bedding. I'm a cocoon sleeper, the sheet spends most of it's time on the floor anyway. And usually when I finally have the idea of tossing it into the wash... well... it's bedtime. I'm sleepy.

Nevertheless, the truth was out there, and the emails started coming. Then my co-workers started to comment. It was disgusting and hilarious.

Therefor.

Frank, Meg and Carlos had to come over to my apartment and check out the scene of the crime in person.
CSI: Sunalta right thurr. This was getting intense. Suddenly my linens were stirring up an awful lot of trouble. Worse yet, the gang decided to come over right after the show! That left me very little time to tuck away any unmentionables. Less than a minute, in fact.

They came in, camera in hand and suited up with masks and gloves (really) to investigate my cozy little sanctuary, and the results were amazing.

I mean, horrifying...

Clothes strewn about, a half unpacked suitcase in the corner, pocketchange and paper on the dresser, piles of books on the bedside table, mysterious leaves resting on the carpet, and Christmas leftovers in colorful bags at the foot of the bed... oh, and the sheets.

Not. Impressed.

So they pick their jaws off the floor, give their heads a shake and leave.

Huh.

Alright, so it's not like I was completely oblivious to the fact that my sanctuary had devolved into a sty, it was just... you know... never really much of a priority. Until today.

As hysterical as the whole saga turned out to be, truthfully, it was a bit of a blow to see someone's honest reaction to a personal space that I, otherwise, felt was just fine the way it was. I still feel someone can live the way they like. Tidy, messy, it's none of my bee's wax anyway really.
But still... I just kinda felt gross.

So I spent the day cleaning.

Lots.

And the sheets are in the dryer.

And now I feel pretty good. Lesson learned, I guess.

"A man's home is his castle."

UPDATE:

Check out the awesome video Carlos made!