Last night I went to my friend’s Fantasia party. It was purely the appeal of a night out, and the potential for eating a lot of brownies, that led me to go. Plus, everyone else was going, and the peer pressure got to me.

Right away, we were handed an order form and a festive pencil with a purple plastic penis on the end of it (circumcised, with testicles attached for extra realism). It’s amazing how holding a miniature fake purple penis can actually put you in the mood to talk about sex. Although, the mood was kind of ruined when we speculated about what would happen if one of our kids got hold of the pencil and choked on the end of it, causing us to have quite an interesting moment trying to explain to the emergency room doctor what, exactly, our kid was choking on.

The saleslady was pretty cool and set us at ease for the most part. Knowing her audience, she mostly focused on creams and massage oils and the like, all of which were pretty yummy (there was lots and lots of taste testing). She kept the hardcore stuff hidden, but near the end she did break out a few eyebrow-raising items like a vibrator shaped like a goose that spins around while lighting up in a rainbow of colours (suitable for landing planes and directing traffic), and a bra made out of 550 little candies (“I’ll just watch a little TV, dear, while you’re working on that — let me know when you get to the good part if you haven’t slipped into a diabetic coma”).

I wound up buying a nice pair of jammies that are pretty tame — kind of like yoga pants with a tank top. But even then, they are apparently too risque for breakfast at the Jatania household. I was wearing them this morning and the first thing Captain Jelly Belly said when he saw me was, “Where’s your shirt?” I guess the flannel snugglies I usually wear provide a wee bit more coverage!

Overall it wasn’t too embarrassing (although, when she pulled out the light-up vibrator my friend Andrea did say that she wished she had a camera, in order to capture the look of horror on my face). If I was interested in dropping $150 or so on a sex toy (these things aren’t cheap), then I think it would be better to buy one among friends, and with a nice lady showing off all the features (because heaven knows, I wouldn’t know what exactly to do with the goose). But still, next time, a nice Tupperware party is probably more my speed.

I’ve never been a Fiona Apple fan — I didn’t like her hit from a few years back, Criminal, and I really really didn’t like the accompanying video, which showed her crawling around in her underwear as if she were Christina Aguliera. I’ve seen extensive media coverage of her last album, which was reportedly shelved by Epic, but which she now says was not released by her own request, as she was unhappy with the arrangements. Now the album has been rerecorded with a new producer and released to the public. Since the original version was “leaked” to the internet a couple of years ago, real fans can compare the two and see which one they prefer — a nice bit of publicity that keeps her in the news.

While out driving today I was listening to the CBC and they have a new show on in the mornings called The Hit List. Four panelists discuss songs (from any time) that they think should be added to this week’s playlist on CBC 2. Listeners can then vote on their selections, and the top vote getters will be added to the playlist, with four older songs dropped off. One of today’s selections was the title track from Fiona’s new album, Extraordinary Machine. I couldn’t believe how beautiful it was. I instantly loved it — gorgeous song with beautiful vocals. Apparently they were talking about it on the show this morning because it isn’t getting many votes and probably won’t make the list — in fact, the host read several e-mails that talked about how horrible it was.

But consider me a convert! I’m actually thinking of getting her album…I never thought I’d see the day!

I recently read that it’s been proven that dinosaurs actually all had feathers — so the pictures we have in books and the models in museums, that show them with tough, lizard-like skin, are all wrong. It made me think about what would happen if a guy who was alive then was magically transported to our times, and could tell it like it is. Like, maybe he’d see a T-Rex at the science museum, and he’d laugh and say, “Dudes, those things were covered in purple and yellow feathers! What you have here is what they looked like after we plucked them for Thanksgiving dinner! Creepy!” Or maybe he’d be an Aztec or something like that, and we’d be all, “We believe these tattoos represented tribal allegiances, and that these mushrooms were used for medicinal purposes,” and the guy would be like, “Dudes! That tattoo is the symbol for my favourite rock band, and those mushrooms are purely recreational, if you know what I’m saying.” And we’d all have a good laugh and we’d learn something too.

Then I like to think about what would happen if I were transported 2000 years in the future. My encyclopediatric knowledge of pop culture would make me a star. Maybe they would have excavated our landfills, and they’d have found all these books and magazines referring to something called “Star Wars,” but the actual movie and script would have been lost to time, and my amazing ability to recreate the movie from memory would have me heralded as a major historical find. Or maybe they would have found the lyric sheet from a Hi-5 album, and it would be wildly popular when printed in poem form, but the tunes would have been lost, and my ability to not only sing, but do actions, for every song would make me the biggest musical hit in ages. Or maybe they’d be like, “We think this device was used to hang curtains, and this other thing was maybe for storing your chewing tobaccco,” and I’d be like, “Dudes! That is a belt, and this other thing is an iPod. Hello!”

A couple of weekends ago we put our Christmas lights up on the house, because we didn’t want to be doing it when it was snowy and icy and freezing outside (I say “we” but really Sir Monkeypants did all the work). We thought we were being all wise and forward-thinking.

But here it is just two weeks later, and since it is snowing outside, it seems everyone is in the festive spirit. I went out last night and almost a third of the houses on our street (a long one, so we’re taking at least 8 or 9 houses) not only had their lights up, but had them turned on!!

At my house it was always a rule that we weren’t even allowed to mention Christmas until after my birthday, which is tomorrow. So everyone and their lights better step in line, or my mom will see to it that Santa doesn’t bring them anything this year!

This week’s EW has a feature on King Kong, with lots of pictures of Naomi Watts in the classic Fay Wray role. Although I think she is just fine as an actress, I always find her to be so bland from a physical perspective. She’s average-looking to a fault — I can never recognise her in her films, promotional materials, or even at awards shows, because she just doesn’t stand out in a crowd. She always looks to me like some other famous person’s handler, or date, or publicist.

So even though she does a good job in her movies, and I think she’s becoming a well-known name, I just can’t see her ever beeing a real “star” on the level of someone like Nicole Kidman or Julia Roberts or Reese Witherspoon. Not everyone in Hollywood has to be gorgeous but I think it’s important, to make the jump to real fame, to have some sort of physical “hook” that makes you instantly recognisable, so films can be sold and marketed on your presence. Even actors that are really good at “disappearing” into their roles — say, Daniel Day-Lewis or Ralph Fiennes — are recognisable when you see them in photographs or interviews. Naomi Watts is just a blank — I can’t get a handle on her at all.

Veronica Mars from this week was so frickin’ awesome. Man, I love that show.

For the fans, I just read in EW that it is currently ranking around 96th, which is none too good. Its ratings are up over last year, especially the past three weeks, when Lost was in re-runs. However, the bad news is that its ratings are actually lower than the show UPN showed in the same time slot last year — Kevin Hill, a show that they cancelled after its first season.

Since it’s on UPN I’m expecting it to last the full season no matter what. But a third season may be too much to wish for.

I remember when Captain Jelly Belly was just over a year old. I was thinking about those stereotypical scenes in movies where someone is trying to feed a baby, and they end up with food splattered all over themselves, all over the walls, and all over the baby. And I thought at the time, “So untrue!” because CJB used to just sit calmly and receive the spoon with a nice, open mouth. Sometimes we’d have a misfire where he’d raise his arm at a bad time and knock the spoon, or he’d turn his head and I’d try to shove some yogurt into his cheek. But other than that, there was pretty minimal mess.

Meet Gal Smiley. Everything you see in the movies is true.

I am a rotten cook, and I never used to make vegetables for poor Captain Jelly Belly, who now hates them and I’m sure he’ll soon develop scurvy or rickets or maybe both. But I’m rocking the vegetable world for Gal Smiley, because I’ve discovered frozen vegetables. They’re so easy! Just open the package (most of the ones I buy are ziploc), dump some in a pot with a little water, and steam for 4 minutes. Done!

Now that our freezer is stocked with clean, pre-cut, pre-portioned broccoli, cauliflour, baby carrots, baby peas, mixed green beans, full-kernel corn, baby corn, and chunks of squash, I find I rarely have any veggies to buy in the “fresh” area anymore. It’s so fabulous to have an array of awesome veggies at your fingertips at any time — they don’t go bad, they don’t require preparation, and they can be imported from all over the globe so you always get the super-yummy stuff.

I can’t believe it took me so long to figure this out. Now all we need is a bigger freezer!

This afternoon I took Captain Jelly Belly to see The Wiggles in concert. It’s his first big concert. I’m sure it made a lasting impression although no one was smoking pot next to him, as with my first major concert (The Cure). He liked it just fine although he did ask me, “Mommy, what’s happening now?” about 500 times.

The Wiggles are four men from Australia who have their own TV show where they do “funny” skits and sing songs. They aren’t too annoying so we watch them from time to time. When they sing a song they have four backup dancers, and one of the regular dancers is by far my favourite part of the show. He’s a blond guy (who looks a lot like our friend Jeff, funnily enough) and he is so, so, so totally into his job. He’s there in the background hamming it up to extremes. It’s not enough to jump; he has to leap 3 feet in the air. It’s not enough to clap; he has to use his whole arms, swinging them above his head. He has this patented head-move that I adore where he shakes his head from side to side whenever they are doing a hopping/spinning move — he’s got fabulous snap. It goes without saying that he has a huge smile on his face at all times.

Today at the concert I must admit I was just as excited, if not more so, than Captain JB. But the best part was when the first song started, and the dancers came running out, and there was the guy! Right there in person! I totally swooned. His name is Ben. Maybe I’ll start a fan club!

When I was in Grade 8, I took Family Studies with Mrs. Robertson. I was never very good at the cooking side of things but it amazes me how much I learned that year has stuck with me, like how to measure flour and how to cut cucumbers into pretty shapes and how mother-hard it is to knead bread dough.

One thing we learned was how to put together a good, well-rounded meal. That’s something I really suck at, but I’m improving. I remember that one of the keys to a good meal was to vary the colour palette. We had a test one time where we had to pick out what was wrong with each of several featured meals, and one of the meals had the problem that everything was the same colour. Unattractive = less tasty, I guess.

The other night I made dinner for Gal Smiley and then, as usual, broke everything into small pieces and sprinkled it on her high chair tray. I noticed she was having macaroni noodles, grated mozzarella cheese, cauliflour pieces, and cubes of canned pear. Everything was white!

I’m so sorry, Mrs. Robertson.