Sunday, 25 July 2010

Flore

Friday was a rain fest; it absolutely poured the whole day long.

I am one of those people who will RACE to get out of the rain, as though I am related to the Wicked Witch of the West and am in danger of exploding like some grade ten chemistry experiment if I get too wet.  As a result, I try not to even step a toenail outside on days like that if I don't have to.  So apart from my regular morning/afternoon/dinner chores with the horses, I didn't go outside and nor did the dogs.

Instead, I spent one the most productive days I've had in years: I watched movies.  Lots of movies.  The Teenagers in the house are crazy about their movies, and all Hollywood DVDs here have the English language selection, so I was loving it.  I didn't even try to pretend it was a learning day, and have the German subtitles playing.  Nope, I was just a slothful lazy bugger who let the t.v. do the thinking for her that day.

Now, when an entire Blockbuster seems to be at your disposal, what do you choose to watch?

Well me, I chose to watch Bend it like Beckham, The Ugly Truth, and Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen. 

What does this say about my taste in movies?  I think it says I don't really have any.  But apart from that, anyone else out there enjoy a good (pre-crazy) Lindsay Lohan flick from time to time?  Anyone?

Tap tap tap....this thing on?

In Confessions, it was very poignant when Lindsay sat on a pile of garbage in a dirty and dark New York alley, and told the lead singer of her favourite band, Sid Arthur, that she was upset she couldn't discuss the poetry of his songs with him, "because [he's] nothing but a drunk."

So earnest!  Such passion!  Such drama!  Such foreshadowing to her own life!

I wonder if she's sitting in the slammer right now, thinking about her scripted words to Sid Arthur?  I wonder if any of you actually care about my pondering the ill-fate of Lindsay Lohan?

I suspect not.

But I shall continue.

I think that this movie gives us a glimpse of the fact she was starting to become unruly, as it is apparent this was filmed during the period in her life when people stopped giving her boundaries; specifically, they stopped reminding her that she needed to wear sunscreen when under the hot rays of the sun.

Poor Lindsay is alarmingly freckled in this movie; in fact, she's a giant freckle.  And the close-up they did of her upper torso, when she sits at the dinner table dramatically pleading to be allowed to go to Sid Arthur's final concert, is shocking. 

Her skin looks as damaged as one of those fake Real Housewives of Orange County, before their laser treatments.

Lindsay you're fair skinned, PUT ON THE SPF 8000 IF YOU WANT TO GO OUTSIDE. Tanning is not in your genetic code!

I too freckle in the sun, and it really makes me mad.  I come in three shades:  winter white, raspberry red, and absurdly freckled.  That's it.  I don't tan.  If I'm not careful I burn atrociously and then I become a giant freckle.

It is the curse of all those who are fair skinned, and in Confessions it is obvious that Lindsay was abusing the sun.

Now, here's the other shallow and superficial thing that bothered me about this movie: her hair colour.  It was this hideous hybrid of red and blonde.  Who did her hair? What new graduate of the Hair Academy For Idiots got their hands on a bottle of peroxide and partly went to town?

I have this same issue with Katherine Heigl's hair in The Ugly Truth.  Well the ugly truth of that movie is two fold: (a) THE PLOT SUCKS; and (b) her hair is the most unflattering shade of 'blonde' I have ever seen. It is this flat shade of hospital yellow.  HOSPITAL YELLOW! 

How do I know it is hospital yellow?  Well, you've all been in hospitals before and you know how dingy and low-budget everything looks, especially the bedding and the walls. Well, that's what her hair colour reminds me of: a low-budget hospital.

People of the hair dressing world, 'hospital yellow' isn't 'blonde'!

(Actually THE WORST part of The Ugly Truth is Gerard Butler.  I can't stand that guy when he talks!  He talks out of the side of his mouth!  It drives me nuts!)

You may be wondering how come I've taken such a pathetic interest in Hollywood hair colour.  Well, it's because I'm living with a true blonde at the moment and she takes offense to cheap imitations, but she has paws and can't type about her irritation so I must be her voice. 

Je m'appelle Flore

(pronounced FLOOR-a)

And Flore wants you all to know she also doesn't appreciate the blonde jokes that get recycled from year to year.

Blondes have more fun, and they're smarter!  For example, Flore only speaks French.

I don't speak French.

But how do you know she took offense to Katherine Heigl's hospital yellow hair, if you don't speak French?

I just know.  It's part of my job.  So just go with it, okay? Stop asking questions.  It's so inconvenient.

I am ready for you to take zee dictation now, lady who always smells of jambon.

It is lucky for me that Flore speaks the language of 'bacon treats', so we rarely have any misunderstandings. I asked one of The Teenagers if Flore's owner is French.  The Teenager just rolled her eyes, shook her head no, and put a finger to her nose turning it up a bit.

I knew someone else who did this to their dog too.  Wasn't anyone I knew well, and I think it was a university professor, or a student?  I can't remember, but it happened in university. Anyhow, this dude was exceptionally proud of the fact that he was living smack dab in the middle of British Columbia, and his dog only answered to Italian.  And no, the guy wasn't from Italy, nor was his dog.  Though as everyone around me swooned at how worldly it was to have your dog speak a foreign language, I was dwelling on this question: Would sir fancy some garlic bread to go with his massive ego?

French, German, English.  AH!  It's all so confusing, sometimes you just need a drink!

Of our three labbie ladies, Flore is definitely the most laid back. She plods along beside us on our walks, and takes a mild interest in all the comings and goings. The only time her heart seems to pitter-patter is when she spots a field of corn.  

She disappears into that corn, leaving Dan and I to stare at each sceptically as we recall all the bad horror movies that started with some poor idiot chasing their dog into a field of corn.

La grrr. 
I veel chase zee bad guys away.

Actually, Flore would not chase the bad guys away.  She refuses to even exert an ounce of energy to put on a half-hearted show to chase the Kong; as a result, we leave her in the corn.

She always comes out.  Eventually.

La ha ha. 
Zee silly humans, afraid of zee corn field.

As you will notice from the above picture, Flore always carefully monitors her sun exposure, being sure to spend time in the shade. After all, all true fair-skinned blondes know that if you spend too much time in the sun, your skin will crinkle like tissue paper and you will freckle like a cheetah's coat, possibly requiring a stay in the hospital for investigation of a suspicious mole, where you will be forced to stare at depressing shades of hospital yellow.

And if you're truly unlucky, also having to watch a movie starring Gerard Butler and Katherine Heigl where they dump a bottle of peroxide all over the genre of Romantic Comedy, and pray that no one will notice how bad it looks.

2 comments:

Ais said...

Aw, shes cute! Was she eating corn in that one picture? Haha, I wonder why she loves corn fields so much?

Caitie said...

I don't know why she's so crazy about the corn. It's very strange. But I'll tell you what, if we didn't know she was in there, it is SUPER unnerving to be standing on the road and see these tall corn stalks madly shaking as the beast in the corn makes her way closer to you. Glad it's only sweet Flore and not some deranged child a la Children of the Corn.