Huzzah! The talented and lovely Mother of Pith has started her own website! I invite you to visit A Stone’s Throw, wherein my mother conclusively proves that she takes no guff from The Man.

Pie Power! Earlier this month Alberta premier and Grade-A bigot Ralph Klein was pied at the Calgary Stampede, and it got me wondering whether there were any special interest pieing groups out there. Well, shucks, this is the Internet era, and it turns out that there’s a wealth of pie-centric organizations online in French and English. (It’s most disappointing that the owners of DessertStorm.com have yet to make something of their domain.) And what happens to piemen when they get older? Apparently they go quite mad and fill up pages with poorly-made anti-Bush animated gifs. (The “content” starts about a quarter down the page.)

But seriously, in this modern age when death and poverty and pestilence seem to flood our lives on a daily basis, there’s something soothing about taking a stand against the status quo with dishes of banana and whipped cream. Mmmm.. that’s good dissent!

Big Brother 4 cartoons.. because what I really need is another embarassing reality show addiction. (Go, Dave! Boo, Dana!)

Get down! Hunh! Learn how to do The Robot — the ladies will love you, and the guys will want to be you. Umm.. or something like that. (warning: terrible background colours on that last link) You never catch people doing the electric slide anymore, or the moonwalk, or any other of those silly breakdancing moves, but The Robot is once and forever where it’s at! (Although the cultural relevance factor may be waning, apparently breakdancing is still a valuable way to teach physics.)

Okay, so seing people dance like robots is good, but what if you already are a robot, and you want to dance like people? Get your shiny metal ass down to the RoboFesta Robot Dance, where the oil is free and the tunes go on all night, baby.

Giant angry robots who can’t dance might prefer just smashing Tokyo, or maybe reading this debate from Oh the Humanity on giant monsters vs. giant robots. (How I pine for an independant video store in my area. All I have is those chain stores that seem to feature nothing but twelve thousand copies of the latest Kate Hudson movie. Sigh.)

E!Scene is a fun new snarky weblog chronicling the highs and lows of the Canadian arts and culture circuit. Because we have an arts and culture scene, y’know. Seriouly. There’s.. um.. Brian Adams. And.. Celine. And.. um.. oh! Look at the time! Gotta go!

My name is Jess, and I have a problem. It all started almost without me even noticing: that Charlie’s Angels II commercial with the AC/DC song kept appearing on my television, and it only took a few showings before I was singing along. It wasn’t long after that I started digging through old boxes trying to find my Def Leppard tapes, pretending that I was just enjoying the irony, y’know. Then yesterday I hit rock bottom: I made a concerted effort to find and download Rock You Like a Hurricane. Ye Gods.. it’s only a matter of time before I start trolling around used CD stores anxiously looking for a ‘Greatest Hits of Europe’ compliation, despite the fact that there’s really only one great hit of Europe, and that’s still a bit of hyperbole. Anyway, here’s about.com’s guide to looking like an 80s metal star, and this most excellent countdown of the biggest hair in hair metal history. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go buy some two-tone rock shirts and aquanet.

(For the record, the song that has least stood the test of time is “Love Bites” by the Leppard. When I was 14, it was the greatest love song ever. Now.. not so much.)

Australian guy puts up a website mocking his many goofy and inexplicable t-shirts. A good time is had by all.

As your attorney I recommend you check out the newly revamped Vegas Info page, which now features reviews on forty-odd casinos as seen through the caustic and vaguely tipsy eyes of Mr. PnV and I. Get tips on cheap food, cheap drinks, cheap gambling, and apparently who has the best cocktail waitress uniforms, although I can’t say I noticed that myself. Hmph.

Television fansites are a tricky thing to do well, so kudos to the folks behind TARflies, a place for Amazing Race fans to flock.

I’ve been making a sincere effort lately to read more fiction books. In university I used to read two novels a day (socializing was not my forte, mind you, but I was a very well read introvert if nothing else), whereas up until recently all I’ve been reading is non-fiction websites, and most of that ends up being vitriolic Paradise Hotel updates over at Television Without Pity. Anyway, my point is that I finally read The Nanny Diaries over the weekend, and the part that stuck with me the most was the kerfluffle around getting one’s child into a premier preschool. Wait — a what now? Back when I was a tot, which apparently was the dark ages, preschool was all about nap time and healthy snacks and learning to share your blocks with the other children. Now, though, preschool seems to be about getting into Harvard, which boggles my mind. In fact, the top preschools in Chicago are even harder to get into than most Ivy League universities. (Some might remember that such competition caused one woman to murder a child in Japan a few years ago.)

Seriously — making kindergarten students take an entrance exam? (exam on bottom of page) Teaching fractions to four year olds? Being four is all about mud pies and chasing your friends around the playground. Sheesh. (fractions link from A Whole Lotta Nothing)

The Internet Guide to Jazz-Age Slang, which will come in handy as I plow my way through a pile of Jeeves and Wooster books.

Were I not on the other side on the continent, I so would have tried to get myself to BlobFest 2003 (a celebration of all things Blob). (from wendellwit.com)