Maybe I'm Just Too Old?

I recently left the Oscar-nominated film “Juno” feeling giddy and uplifted, but also a little old and out of the loop when it came to the language used in the witty teen pregnancy flick.

“I am for shizz up the spout,” 16-year-old Juno MacGuff (Ellen Page) announces at the start of the movie.

Later, Juno’s dad says he doesn’t approve of her dating while pregnant.

“That’s kind of skanky. Isn’t that what you girls call it these days? Skanky? Skeezy, you know, tore up from the floor up.”

Which got me to thinking – what are the girls and boys saying these days anyway?

So I signed on to Facebook – I am somewhat in the loop – and enlisted insight from the ‘younger than 21’ peeps on my friends list.

I expected to find a few more silly and harmless references – but what I stumbled upon was infinitely more disturbing.

Apparently the word “rape” is being thrown around loosely as part of the daily vocabulary.

“If you rape something, like a test, that means you killed it, or did a good job. But if something rapes YOU, it’s obviously not good,” my husband’s teenage cousin tells me from her Chicago suburb.

“That saying can be applied to pretty much anything that you have done well.”

Any hopes of this new trend being confined south of the border were quickly disolved when my brother and his college-age friends all confirmed that using “raping” in a positive sense is just as widespread here.

And that’s not the extent of it.

Calling your friends “sluts,” “whores” and “skanks” is seen as a compliment.

Is it just me or is something seriously wrong when “hey slutface” is the new term of endearment?

Anything cool is “sick” and on the flip side, something considered stupid or dumb is labelled “gay” or “retarded.”

Wow, managing to denigrade people with disabilities, gays and victims of abuse - all in a day’s work!

Thankfully there are a few uplifting references still in circulation. “Sweet” – if something is really cool and “very nice!” (with a Borat accent ) can be heard making their way around cool kids’ circles.

But it’s clear negative adjectives trump.

At the risk of sounding like a GOW (Grumpy Old Woman), I miss the days when “gnarly,” “awesome” or “radical” were the trusted slang.

And at the further risk of turning into my mother, maybe a good old fashioned lecture is just what kids these days need.

So here goes.

Of all the words in the English language, why, (insert rising voice here) must you use “raped” to describe your success?

Spend a few minutes with rape victims and I’m pretty sure they won’t see anything victorious about their experiences.

What’s wrong with “scored” or “aced” or even kicking it old school with “knocked it out the of the park?”

Next time you call something “retared” or “gay” to express stupidity, think about the kind of message you are sending.

How would you feel if your brother or sister had a disability and all you ever heard was the term used as a negative connotation?

What about the kid who sits beside you in class who is too afraid to admit his true sexuality because all he ever hears is “gay” being used to put something down?

Dig a little deeper dudes! I’m sure you can use your creativity – or at least an online thesaurus – to come up with some more positive and less hurtful ways to express yourself.

My Waitress Wish

Ask most five-year-olds what they want to be when they grow up and they’ll likely say something along the lines of a race-car driver, astronaut or world-famous supermodel. Usually after elementary school they put those ambitions on the back-burner in favour of more realistic vocations.

While I did want to join Madonna on tour and practiced all of her dance moves regularly, there was another job that I desperately wanted. And unlike the odds of making it as a singing sensation, most people would say my other goal was easily attainable.

But easy for some is a marathon for others. And at the age of 31, I still have yet to fulfill my dream of becoming a waitress.

In high school, most of my girlfriends worked at the local Kelsey’s which my boyfriend’s family owned. I was desperate to work alongside them but my boyfriend’s dad didn’t want us working together in case we had one of our teenage spats in front of the customers. I guess flying plates were bad for business.

Instead, I was forced to stand by as my friends sported flattering uniforms, showed off fresh wads of cash every night and hung out with cool older servers. Not to mention the nights they’d spend hanging out at the bar after their shift, whooping it up until the wee hours of the morning.

Meanwhile, I toiled away across the mall parking lot at Zellers wearing a bright blue smock decorated with various Club Z pins.

When the East Side Mario’s chain announced they were opening up right across the street from Kelsey’s, I just knew I had to apply – even if it meant working for the ‘competition.’ There weren’t many other options in my hometown, especially if you had no prior experience. So on the day they held group interviews, I lined up for hours with hundreds of other young people hoping to land a job in the food services industry. When I finally made it to the front of the line, the interviewer asked if I could sing. “If you want me to break the windows,” I replied, quite seriously. Wrong answer! Why hadn’t I remembered that being a server means you have to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ with all the enthusiasm of a camp counsellor?! Needless to say I was never called back for a second interview.

While working at the Toronto Sun in my twenties, my co-workers and I would regularly find ourselves at Betty’s, the pub across the street. I always looked on at the wait staff with envy, wondering how they’d gotten their start. I would fantasize that I could get a serving job in my spare time – but it never went any further than that.

Oh sure, there have been times when after a couple of cocktails I’ve gotten up the nerve at a restaurant to ask if they are hiring. But the liquid courage is gone by the time I wake up the next day.

My 19-year-old brother enrolled in the hotel and resort management course at Georgian College in Barrie this past fall. I’m hoping that some day when he’s running a fancy hotel he’ll get me a job serving tables.

Until then my friends will continue to indulge me as I serve them my famous grilled cheese sandwiches with all the fanfare one would expect from an experienced waitress.

2-For-1 Baptism Special

It was the two little sisters who lived down the street from me as a kid that scared me away from church. They used to torment me that I was “going to hell” because I wasn’t baptized and a regular churchgoer like them.

The experience left such a bad taste in my mouth that I can still remember their names and faces more than 25 years later – and believe me – my memory isn’t one of my strong suits.

I couldn’t understand why these little pig-tailed blonde girls – who should have been playing carelessly with me in the park like the rest of the kids our age – had such strong convictions about religion when they weren’t even old enough to be left at home alone.

We used to call their dad ‘Mr. Clean’ because he was constantly washing his driveway with the garden hose. Looking back now I can see the irony – was he trying to wash to wash away the sins of the family? If only I had that comeback as a seven-year-old girl.

My parents decided not to baptize me as a baby because my father was Catholic and my mother Protestant. They thought it would be a good idea to let me decide for myself which religion I wanted to embrace when I was old enough.

In the mean time, I definitely felt different than all the other kids who had water poured over them. In fact, it wasn’t until my adult years that I actually met a handle of people who, like me, hadn’t been officially welcomed into the church.

I remember feeling confused when serial killer Jeffrey Dahmer was baptized in jail before he was killed. Did that mean that a man who murdered 17 people and kept their remains in the fridge was now going to heaven while I would suffer a less kind fate?

The issue of baptism came up again after the birth of my son. Like my father, my husband’s family is Catholic and baptizing their grandson was a given. I struggled for a long time over what to do. If I wasn’t baptized, why was it important for me to baptize my son?

In the end I decided that this was something I wanted not only for my son, but for me as well. Call it the 2-for-1 baptism special. I’d always believed in a higher power and having my son only drove that point home for me. If ever there was a time to take the plunge, it was now.

While researching which church I wanted to baptize us in – I came across a statement on the Metropolitan United Church’s website that really struck a chord. “Baptism is not a requirement for God’s love. We believe people who die without baptism are in no way condemned, lost or damned.” Take that neighbour girls!

I had always felt good about the United Church’s openness towards women, same-sex couples and other religions. I’d also been married by a United Church minister two years before.

So on a sunny Sunday morning this month I held my four-month-old son in front of the congregation of family and friends and was baptized alongside him. As the minister poured water on our heads and anointed us with oil – I felt overcome with emotion. Whatever life held for us – we were in it together.

And it turns out I’m in good company. Auzzie actor Russell Crowe recently told Men’s Journal magazine that he plans to be baptized at the age of 43. “I started thinking recently, if I believe it is important to baptize my kids why not me?” he said of his sons 3 and 1. “There is something much bigger that drives us all. I’m willing to take that leap of faith.”

I couldn’t have said it better mate!

My good luck charm

I’ve spent years bemoaning that I ‘never win anything.’

While my friends have won everything from concert tickets to a trip to France, I couldn’t even get a $5 payback on my numerous Cash for Life tickets.

My losing streak even seemed contagious. One year at an office Christmas dinner a co-worker who was sitting beside me had her number drawn for an expensive computer scanner but lost it because she was in the washroom at the time of the draw. I couldn’t help but think it was her sheer proximity to me that caused that unlucky turn of fate.

It wasn’t until I became pregnant with my son, Nate, that my luck started to turn. At first, I thought it was just a coincidence, but now I know he really is my good luck charm.

When I was three months pregnant I bought three tickets to the Toronto Sun’s annual holiday draw. I felt good about the ticket price going towards charity but never thought for a moment I would actually win any of the prizes. I’d long given up on that.

Later that week I got a voicemail breaking the good news. Not only had one of my tickets been pulled, but two – landing me a $100 gift certificate AND theatre tickets.

A few months later I was at a friend’s wedding, sitting there feeling sorry for myself as the only sober one in the room when the DJ announced the contest for the centrepieces. The rules seemed fairly simple – he’d flip a coin – if it were heads those sitting stayed in the game – tails those standing kept on playing. Toss after toss, I kept on winning. Guest after guest kept dropping out until it was only me and my good-luck-charm-in-the-womb left in a room full of 200 people.

After my son was born we attended our first ‘Movies for Mommies’ matinee. On our way in we filled out a ballot for the door prize, a baby photo shoot. The organizer had no sooner called out “Nate and Jackie” in the theatre full of moms and babies that I was up to pick up our prize - this was becoming routine now!

But things got really exciting when the luck moved into the celebrity realm, where I’ve always had a less-than-healthy obsession.

When my little boy wonder was only three months old I left him to attend a film fest party where I found myself side-by-side my long-time Hollywood crush, Matt Damon. No coincidence, because a month later - the only time that I’d ventured out past dark since - I found myself sitting directly beside Justin Timberlake at a Yorkville restaurant. For someone who’d listened to Sexy Back her entire pregnancy and danced among pre-teen girls at one of his concerts, this was nothing short of a miracle. And it was at this point that my husband finally conceded our son yielded special powers.

Now I’m just waiting for our Super 7 win.