Call it jealousy, call it cattiness, call it brilliance, call it what you will. But I would slap Rebecca Eckler AND Leah McLaren, if I could. I am infuriated each and every time I see them touted as the "voice of my generation", or promote themselves as such. Because they are not. They are prissy blowhards who deserve a kick to the box.
Thankfully, Little Miss Know It All (http://stevemegan.blogspot.com/) and I are on the same page with the same amount of vitriol for Ickler. I think I harbour way more than is natural for Leah M.
Both women are my age. All of us have similar education (although with two degrees, I have more, but I digress), and we all worked at some point as journalists. Except when I was at news conferences, press galleries, and crime scenes, Icky and Leah were sampling shit from cosmetics companies and prattling on about that. I am also more modest than those cows, hence I didn't moxie my way into a column in a national paper. But I can guarantee I would have made you more sense than those two.
Jealous? You f*cking bet I am! I have loans and responsibilities and jobs to maintain. I don't have the time to devote to promoting myself as the "voice of a generation".
Here is my voice... I was raised in the Maritimes, in a household with two parents and a mediocre income. I put myself through school, I moved all over the country, I have lived in almost every corner of Canada. I have close friends, and dear enemies. I have tried everything from food to drugs to crazy men. I have one of many voices of my generation.
To Leah and Icky: The women of my generation, nay - my whole generation does not spend their days worring about toe nail polish, sip martinis in posh downtown Toronto bars, or sue people for stories that vaguely resmeble my own. We worry about buying homes, paying student loans, finding someone decent to spend our lives with, how to balance life and a career. We live in and make homes all over the country, in far-flung places well beyond the limits of Toronto or Calgary. We have survived and seen and handled more than you could ever imagine. Our stories would shock, enthrall, entertain, and pretty much blow you out of the water. You're just the saccharine voices that leave us aching for something more substantial.
To you, Icky and Leah, I say good day!
Scribingly Yours,
xoxoSallyt
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At one point I read MacLaren just to bitch about her, but I stopped even that about 6 years ago after I read her article on the then-recent perfume restrictions in NS hospitals. How did she get to the bottom of this story? She dosed herself with perfume and got thrown out of the Grace. This struck me as analogous to reporting on a bridge collapse by driving your car full-speed into the new gap. "Yes, the facts obvious to even the most casual observer ARE true!" Regrettably, Leah has never been assigned to natural disaster reporting.
I had previously almost stopped reading her over her hilarious "expose" that beautiful women get more attention and opportunities. And Ms. Blonde Bimbo Fashion Victim was angry at this! So, are you willing to smear this acid on your face in the name of feminine equalization, Leah?
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