I remember when we were gambling to win
Everybody else said better luck next time
I don’t wanna bend like the bad girls bend
I just wanna be your friend
Is it ever gonna be enough?

Is it ever gonna be enough?

Is it ever gonna be enough?

Why did I post those lyrics? Maybe I’m frustrated. Maybe I’m irritated. Maybe I don’t know what the fuck to do anymore. You see, I’m a little confused as to how I am supposed to act lately. There have been issues this week; “feminist issues”, as they’ve been called. I call it having some form of decency and common sense, but whatever let’s not get technical here.

The context

1. Last week on a show I did, we gave our Top 10 MMA pound-for-pound rankings, for funsies. Just to bring something new to the table and perhaps start a debate/get people thinking, I put Cristiane “Cyborg” Santos, a female MMA fighter, in my list at number 10. I was fairly certain no female fighter would get the nod in the others’ lists and I felt like verifying whether female fighters were being considered at all or not. The answer was “NOT”. This then prompted someone to ask me who I thought was hotter between Gina Carano and Sarah Kaufman. A valid question. Because obviously by putting a woman in my list, I am declaring to the world my sexual preferences.
2. Last Tuesday, The Chicago Tribune posted a photoshopped picture of Chris Pronger with the legs of a female figure skater, with the headline reading: “Chrissy Pronger – Looks Like Tarzan, Skates Like Jane.” I brought this up on Game Points and was, to say the least, slammed. “I’d like to see a woman get cross-checked by Pronger, LOLOLOL THAT IS LUDICROUS.” I guess it’s really friggin hilarious and demeaning to call a guy a girl. Because HAHAHAHA GIRLS ARE BAD AT SPORTS, I GET IT I GET IT.
3. Tonight, on Game Points, the host asked the producer for the evening – usually not working on this show/host of another show – why I wasn’t on the Wednesday night show as well as on the Friday night edition, specifying “Is it because she’s not a serious journalist?”

ANYWAY. That’s not the point. Right now, I’m more focused on the bus under which I was thrown all week. It’s a big, ugly bus. It’s a tacky color and it’s loud. Like an elephant. You could call it THE ELEPHANT BUS IN THE ROOM. You know, being a woman in a boys’ club/man’s world has its downsides; I won’t go over these.

Ok maybe I will.

• You are frustrated, you’re PMS-ing.
• You’re sensitive, your boyfriend just broke up with you or you had a fight with him.
• … or you had a fight with your girlfriend, LOLOLOL YOU’RE A LESBIAN.
• If you ever talk about another woman, LOLOLOL YOU’RE A LESBIAN.
• If you’re deemed “acceptable” by social standards, i.e. are not overweight, have no apparent mustache, etc. you’re reduced to being treated like a novelty.

It’s cool; well, it’s not cool. It sucks. But that’s the way it is and I feel I’ve been dealing with it extremely well since stumbling into sports radio last year.

BUT THERE IS A GODDAMN LIMIT.

I’ll admit, I am flustered. Irritated. Tired of feeling like I have to justify why I belong even though I work like a maniac to prove so. I don’t know how to act or what to do anymore. Anything I say can and most definitely will be held against me because I’m a woman. A few months ago I ranted about a female blogger who I thought was being sexist and crazy. This is what I wrote:

Demanding equal rights is one thing, but women are not special because they are women. People are special when they are courageous, inspiring and fearless. Women who continuously single themselves out everywhere they can because they are women are not asking to be treated the same; they are hoping for preferential treatment. I never expect preferential treatment.

I just believe we are past the point where it’s a big deal, and I don’t think that my estrogen should ever be a factor unless we’re talking childbirth or menstruating. I do not consider myself special. I don’t think I am worthy of your admiration. I do my own thing, I am building my reputation, I try to be respected in everything I do and I work just as hard as anyone else.

Not harder because I am a woman.

At the moment, I kind of DO feel I have to work harder to prove myself. I feel like there are already two strikes against me, and everyone is challenging me to prove them wrong. I am 100% NOT trying to single myself out at the moment, but HOLY CRAP what the heck am I supposed to do? The MINUTE I do something that is outside of the boys’ club, I’m labeled.

Feminist.
Burning her bra.
Hates all men.
Is a lesbian.

No matter what I do, it’s tainted by the fact that I’m a woman. Comments or critique directed to me are gender-specific. When and IF it actually pertains to my opinion or something I said on the radio, there’s always some remark that lets you know it’s directed toward a woman. Sometimes it’s my physique (I was told “butterface” the other day and was absolutely horrified when a friend explained what that meant. OW, man.), other times it’s my “sexy voice”. It’s always something.

Anything to bring everything back to me being a woman.

The good news

I’ve somehow built a nice following on Twitter, on my blog and now on the radio. Every time I can, I thank everyone who reads/listens to me. I still do not understand how/why all these people care what I have to say. Or even care about me. It baffles me. My followers are so good to me. SO good to me. The massive outpour this week in response to me flailing like a fish out of water trying to defend myself has been amazing. These people know who they are.

Realizing that A) you have some sort of reach to touch people and B) that you actually DO touch people is incredibly humbling. It makes me want to work a thousand times harder. Which is good, because that’s what I have to do in order to gain credibility and try to prove I belong.

But is it ever gonna be enough?

THANK YOU!!!

Last month we hosted our Wine to Water Benefit featuring Barefoot Wines. A great time was had by all, we raised close to $1,000 for Wine to Water and more importantly, we all got to taste some fabulous wines……….. FOR CHARITY!

Enjoy the pictures. If you love them like I do, check out photographer Melissa Sullivan’s website.

Watch it, and make sure you check back for more stuff like MMA predictions, sporting event vlogs, MMA event vlogs and the occasional drunk tweet.

Thanks so much for making this a thing I have to update regularly or else people ask me what the heck I’m doing. It’s SO awesome.

Merci.

THÉÉÉÉÉÉÉÉÉÉÉÉÉÉ-OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

OK, enough of that. I’m not here to gloat (well, not TOO much) or taunt anyone. Well, not Caps fans. The series is far from over.

What *IS* over is the bet I made with Toronto Mike. If you haven’t heard or read about it, you can do so here.

Although I didn’t doubt I would win, I was nervous. After all, we were swept by Boston last year. That was fresh in my memory, and somehow, Bob Gainey had a soothing, calming effect on me when he was around. Without him, I felt stranded. Alone and afraid. Luckily, the legions of amazing Habs fans kept me warm and safe. Not in a gross way. Well, maybe one or two; but mostly, their undying faith in both the Habs and my bet lifted my spirits and gave me hope. My triumph over Toronto Mike and all Leafs fans is for them; they won me this bet. Well, really the Habs did, but let’s not get technical.

Read the blog post from Toronto Mike owed to me and to all Habs fans: How To Win A Stanley Cup In 1993

Also, congratulations to The Active Stick for winning her bet against Evil PPP.

This is full of WIN

Thanks to all for supporting, participating and generally being awesome. I leave you with some gems from last night’s game from these amazing Habs fans & many other NHL fans. Now, let’s win these playoffs! GO HABS GO!

touteparpillee

theHabituals

speechlessmedia

SmilingGainey

SensDew19

packerswin96

newstouse

lawyergirl77

kyleroussel

joejobs

JJonesey

JeffMarek

ElieAintabi

DHSpeedwagon

Toronto-based blogger & avid Toronto Maple Leafs fan Toronto Mike was on my Team 990 segment a few weeks ago to talk about some fun hockey stuff, and during the interview, I got myself into some trouble again because I’m stupid like that: Toronto Mike made the bold prediction that the Habs would win as many playoffs games as the Leafs, who have been mathematically removed from Stanley Cup contention since, oh I don’t know, NOVEMBER.

Never one to back down, even when not challenged, I stepped up to defend mes Glorieux and all the Habs fans subjected to Toronto Mike’s abuse and proposed we make a bet. The audio from that segment is here:

Team 990 – March 21, 2010 by Toronto Mike
The terms were later determined, as per Toronto Mike’s blog:

I made a statement that’s ruffled a few Habs fans feathers. I confidently predicted that my Toronto Maple Leafs and their Montreal Canadiens would win the exact same number of playoff games this season. In other words, the Habs will be swept in four games in their opening round.

Metric Julie was on The Team 990 at that time, and she proposed a bet to make things interesting. I agreed, and now we’ve settled on the terms.

If the Habs fail to win a playoff game this year, Metric Julie will sing “The Leafs Are The Best” on Montreal sports radio.

Now, you’re probably thinking to yourself, “There is no way such a stupid song exists” because, let’s face it, it sounds made-up. But it’s not. Here it is:

So I will sing this song on air if Toronto Mike wins his bet. However, if I win the bet, Toronto Mike has to post a tribute video to the Habs on his blog and tweet about it. And he can’t just write “I lost our stupid bet so here’s the stupid video.”  I haven’t settled on a tribute video yet – if anyone has any suggestions, I’d be more than happy to consider them. It has to be something really humiliating for a Leafs fan to have on his blog.

To reiterate:

If the Habs don’t make the playoffs or are swept in the playoffs, Toronto Mike wins;

If the Habs win just ONE game or more in the playoffs, I win.

Also engaging in their own bet are Habs fan @theactivestick and Leafs fan @MLSE; read about it on theactivestick’s blog.

Should I lose this bet, I guarantee I will sing the CRAP out of that awful song. I will also most likely be hammered. But it’s all in good fun and Toronto Mike has been a great sport about it.

Wish this Habs fan luck, guys!

I will drink to infinity and beyond if I lose this bet.

I am sick of hearing, reading and generally being subjected to women who think they are entitled to some special treatment because they were born with a vagina. The war cry “We want equality!” when it pertains to something as stupid as blogging or anything else as trivial is a waste of everyone’s time. I am obviously not talking about actual important and dangerous sexism, like sexual harassment in the workplace (although might I add that women who dress like a whore to work sort of forfeit the right to cry HARASSMENT just because a male coworker looks leers at them — and I was in human resources in my previous life, so I’ve seen it happen), or sexual trafficking.

I, myself, am admittedly in a man’s world: I have 57,000 male cousins and only brothers, no sisters,I love hockey and MMA, have a gig on sports radio and attend live MMA events. The comments are nasty and the critique is harsh: either I am a slut or I am a man-hating butch. One week I am being asked if not dressing like a ringgirl means I am a lesbian and don’t want men looking at me; the next I’m being included in a “Hockey Hotties” list.

Demanding equal rights is one thing, but women are not special because they are women. People are special when they are courageous, inspiring and fearless. Women who continuously single themselves out everywhere they can because they are women are not asking to be treated the same; they are hoping for preferential treatment. I never expect preferential treatment. Have I gotten it before? Probably. For every male who tells me to get the fuck off the radio and back into the kitchen exists one who will go out of his way to open the door for me. There are polar opposites in anything.

I just believe we are past the point where it’s a big deal, and I don’t think that my estrogen should ever be a factor unless we’re talking childbirth or menstruating. I do not consider myself special. I don’t think I am worthy of your admiration. I do my own thing, I am building my reputation, I try to be respected in everything I do and I work just as hard as anyone else.

Not harder because I am a woman.

Hi! I'm the media.

Last Saturday, I was lucky enough to be invited to Ringside MMA: Triple Threat as part of the media for Ringside Report. (you can read what I’ve written for them here.) This was the second MMA event I covered for them and first professional one. I even got to go to the weigh ins.

What’s that word when you’re doing something really cool you never thought you’d ever get to do and you feel so out of place, you think you’re sticking out like a sore thumb with a neon sign that reads “I don’t belong”?

Well, that’s how I felt. and it was AWESOME. It was wonderfully awkward, as it proved to be a bit of a challenge to set aside my love for the sport from a fan’s perspective and represent the company as a professional.

It was hard not to be a fan and gush about everything that was happening around me. I was sitting about a foot away from the octagon. Between the judges’ table and the athletic commission’s table. UFC referee Yves Lavigne stepped on my foot. It was so cool being that close to the action, but I had to contain my excitement the entire time.

This is where being raised by a strict military disciplinarian comes in handy: stand up straight, walk tall and shut your mouth.

Cheers!

That’s all this post is about.

k thanks bye.

Vincent (22, musician, troubled artist) and I

Raphaël (15, future engineer extraordinaire) and I

My mom, Colette! My mom is awesome. All moms are awesome.

Big sister is a little drunk. But happy! I love my brothers

I love my family.

It's just a metaphor. I know nothing about football.

So. Here is a part of my story: I moved to Quebec City when I was 12 and then studied admin/HR because, well, I didn’t really know what I wanted to do, and since I was highly organized, versatile and sensitive to human relations, my guidance counselor in high school suggested HR to me, based on the results of my RIASEC test (I was SEC – Social, Enterprising and Conventional). Very much in the same way, my brother, 3 years later, found out that he should become either a musician, a clown or a mime, since he was artistic. So for whatever that test was worth, I opted for admin.

I slowly worked my way up the HR & Productivity ladder, learned all about kaizen, lean sigma and labor relations. It was awesome. But I often went to work tired because of tutoring and working on translating contracts that I started landing here and there through word of mouth. It became obvious that while I was good at my job, I had absolutely no passion for it. I loved the trust that people instilled in me and I loved the feeling of being successful, but I so didn’t care about what I was doing. I only loved words, dictionaries and grammar. So with that in mind, I decided to quit my job in June of 2008 and move to Montreal to pursue an exciting career in languages in this bilingual metropolis.

So I moved to Montreal and found a temp job. Basically a job about which I didn’t care, would never care, that would be easy enough to use only half (if that) of my brain and wouldn’t leave me drained at the end of the day, so I could concentrate on finding contracts and studying French & English at a good school here.

That didn’t work out so well. Since I’m still the same efficient, organized girl whose desire to please is so great, I was taking on more and more responsibilities and ended up getting promoted. Woohoo! Recognition! Praise! More money! Much more money.

As Metric would say, You say you wanna get in and you’re gonna get out. But you wont cause it’s a trap…

I started working, working, working. I was becoming stressed out and tired. I was in a crappy relationship. Living in the miserable suburbs. Inching my way toward becoming a desperate housewife. DUDE. This isn’t what I signed up for.

Two weeks ago, I organized a conference in Toronto. For 12 weeks I worked my ass off for this event and it didn’t even go well. It actually went horribly. It was so bad, I texted a friend during the conference to tell her “I’m either getting fired or quitting”. It was so bad, two friends picked me up at the airport upon my arrival in Montreal, and I CRIED IN THEIR CAR.

Maybe I’m overreacting, but I really don’t think that crying is a sign that things are going well. So after two days of soul-searching (and 1 day of faking an illness to continue my thought process at home), I decided to quit my job. Again.

Truth is, if I look back on the past year spent in Montreal, I feel like I have accomplished nothing. It is an awful feeling. I am 25 years old, in (almost) perfect health, I’m smart, capable… I have no excuse except my own lethargy and complacency.

I have now quit my job and found a new one where I was able to negotiate a flexible, part-time schedule – and it’s easy enough not to wear me out, yet interesting enough to put in both my CV and my language portfolio; I have appointments with 2 guidance counselors at 2 universities in Montreal to help me determine which program is best for me and my aspirations; I moved into a new place; and have re-established my plan. All in one week.

My plan, more than 1 year ago, was to move to Montreal, work in languages, kick everyone’s ass in that field and be at the head of the class, the front of the line, sitting on top of the world. While I may be late to the game, I’m in now. I can begin grinding my way up to the top. It’s when you don’t stick to your game plan that you increase your bad decisions and get caught in a guillotine choke or an armbar.

I may have lost the last fight, but I will never tap out.