Monday movie blog

Hi y'all.

For a long time I've struggled with what to do with this blog. I still want to write about stuff, though feel like I need to move on from what this site was in its heyday. I suppose in a nutshell, it was a place for me to share my experiences of being a "single and looking" small island gal living in the big city.

But what to do when "looking" was removed from the equation? Oh, I had loads of things that I could write about, but none of them ever really seemed to fit with the rest of the content on the site. Don't get me was fun while it lasted, but I'm not that person anymore. Of course I'm still "looking," but I'm more on the "lookout," rather than actively pursuing an end to my singledom. Does that make sense?

Instead, I've gone back to finishing my book. But I still want to have a creative presence online. It helps satisfy a need to get something...anything...published in the short term. Even if it's me doing it. So, I decided to start a new blogventure.

I invite you to check out Bea Scene. The plan is to review and comment on movies and television shows that have piqued (or not piqued, in some cases) my interest. It's an experiment that will evolve over time. So please be patient. I'd love to hear your thoughts and views, so comment or shoot me an email at will.

What's the future for this blog? I suppose only time will tell...I'm leaving it up for the time being, if for any other reason than it gives me a change to revisit the highs and lows of a time when I thought I was searching for someone. I thought it was someone else, but at the end of the day, I was really just searching for me.

I found me. Yay.


The luck of the draw

Hey y'all,

Recent events over the past week have had me thinking: What is luck? Or to be more specific, what is good luck?

Is luck random? Or is it based on something a bit more tangible? I don't have the answer, but certainly, I can attest to how feeling "lucky" is a very pleasant feeling.

Earlier this week, I entered a draw for charity and won. A free night's stay in a fancy schmancy hotel in the city the night of our office Christmas party. The irony of winning this prize is that I didn't want to win it. Not at all. A creature of habit, I knew I would have been much happier sleeping in my own bed that night. Plus, what was my cat going to do all by himself over night, other than destroy even more of my property. So I gave the hotel away to some people coming from out of town who would not otherwise have come to the party without it. Whatever. It was for charity. It was no big deal. But I was happy that I could make someone else happy. The end.

The following day I was in Chapters buying some Christmas presents. It turned out they were having a "scratch and save" promotion, though these days I think "scratch and save" can be more accurately described as "scan the bar code and save." Doesn't sound as catchy though...The promotion was that you could save anywhere from 15 to 100% off your purchase, meaning that there was a chance that one could conceivable win their entire purchase. It turns out that I was that one. $100 worth of books for free, just like that.

Enter our Christmas party. Lots of lovely prize draws. Did I win the Wii like I wanted? No, but I did win a coat. Does it fit me? No, but it will make a nice gift for someone for Christmas. Was I annoyed that I didn't win the Wii? Yes. But I am over it. Mostly.

Enter today. Not wanting to cook or do anything remotely requiring effort the night after the above mentioned Christmas party, I let my fingers do the clicking and ordered a small pizza from a local restaurant. As luck would have it, I was eligible to receive 15% off my purchase. Sweet. What arrived at my door 45 minutes later? A medium pizza, an entire order of some sort of delicious looking pasta with all sorts of cheesy goodness, garlic bread and a giant slab of something that looks deliciously chocolaty. All for the price if my small pizza. I'm sorry...what?

Oh, I forgot to mention that in between all of that, I won a free lottery ticket.

The above occurrences of good fortune are small potatoes. No huge windfall. Just small, almost every day occurrences. But it begs the question of why? And why now? If good things come in threes, I used up that quota before the Boston Pizzacopia that arrived at my doorstep just a short while ago.

As an aside, things started looking up for me career-wise a couple of months ago. Since then, without the worry of money - or lack thereof - to weigh me down, I've felt a lightness to my step that I haven't felt in a very long time. I'm happier than I've been in, well, years. To be clear, it's more than money. I've been empowered in my career. People believe in me and in my skillz. That's a wonderful feeling. Scary, but wonderful.

So what's the deal? Am I at the receiving end of luck because I'm happy? Am I happy because I feel like I've been lucky, with the events of the past week only part of what will be a long streak of good things to come, forever and always? I don't have the answer to those questions either, but I do know that the thought of either of the above scenarios ain't too shabby.

TTFN, off to get my luck on.



The Bastian Schweinsteiger 2010 World Cup Drinking Game

The World Cup is here. Yay.

I wish I could say that I would be taking a bit of a hiaitus from posting but, well, I've clearly been one for some time. Not on purpose, mind you. I've just become a bit of a dating, sadly no fun stories. They're all a bit sad really. Like boring men with horrible vampire teeth. Which would be interesting if, say, they were actually vampires. Anyway...I digress.

So, the World Cup is here. Yay. And with that comes beer. Lots and lots of beer. In celebration of that, my old Newfie Gooner and I created a drinking game to make things even more fun.

I'm pleased to direct people to for the rules. And the link to the Twitter account. And the chance to suggest rules to add to the collection. Or to just get really, really sloshed.


Bea "Go England" Petty



A day has gone by and I'm already breaking my own rules. When it comes to my new philosophy ofdating, I mentioned yesterday that I was...I AM...committed to meeting a wider vatiety of people than I otherwise would have in the past. And I really am. But I'm not sure that I really sat down and figured out just what my cut off point was going to be.

I think I just got my first example.

Lookswise, not really my cup of tea. But again, looks aren't the be all and end all of what it's all about. They never been for me. I'm talking to you, Peter Crouch. No, what's more important is personality, in that you have to have a personality. Or at least not take yourself too seriously. When I think back to all the bad dates I ever had, the one steady trait they all shared was a sense of "stick up the buttedness." Never a good match for me.

I received an email from a fella this morning and not that he'll read this so he can maybe change his ways, nor will I post his email verbatim (which was clearly copied and pasted...which is a no no in and of itself), but I will take this time to comment on why I will not be meeting him. Perhaps give others food for thought when writing someone on a dating site.

And yes, I will be responding politely. That is something that I have also committed to. A polite thank you for taking the time to reach out, but I don't think we have enough in common blah, blah, blah.

  1. If your starting line starts out with both "peruse" and "hence" and not in any kind of ironic way, chances are the rest of the email doesn't hold much potential in grabbing my attention.
  2. If you next go on to mention that not only can your friends and family "attest to the fact" that you're a great guy, but community members as well. Actually, I would like to hear what they had to say. Can you give me their contact information?
  3. "Cordially" asking me to reply if I am "amenable" to exchanging some emails is good and all, but to me, it reminds of that letter that Joey wrote to the adoption agency on behalf of Monica and know the one where he uses the thesaurus for every single word.
  4. Only talking about yourself. I don't want to read five paragraphs of YOU telling me how "awesome" other people think you are. Nor do I want anything that is already in your profile repeated. All that tells me is that you have not taken the time to read my profile. I want to know what it was about ME that you like. And how you think we'll get along.
  5. I don't care that you are "seeking the wholesome company of a single female." I'm not even going to start on using the word "female" in your text. Because let's face it, if you HAD read my profile, "wholesome" is not a word that could be used in any context as it applies to me. I'm pretty sure anyone who lists "beer" as an interest may not be what you're looking for. In the same vein, even stating you're a "male" is ridiculous. I have eyes. I can see for myself.
  6. Using the word "CAUCASIAN" no less that five times and in all caps leads me to believe that you operate on a whole other level than I do. I also generally date within my own cultural milieu, but if I am writing to a guy who is clearly white, and I am also clearly white, let's not even go down the race rode. In factm why even go there anyway. EVER.
  7. Saying the you have a "wicked sense of humour" while in no way demonstrating it in either your profile or your letter = WTF. This is one of my biggest pet peeves, followed closely by "people say I'm good looking." You have pictures up, let me judge that for myself.

I won't even talk about the profile, as a) it mostly contains the same information and b) I'm already bored talking about this topic.

But fellas, you should know that while it seems like such a little thing, what you put in your initial email is extremely important. Especially if you don't fall into that top 1% in the looks department. We don't know you and are judging you on what you have to say. And what I saw in this case was a guy who was way too concerned about what he had to say, rather than what I wanted to hear. Not to mention the tone. If he had taken the time to read my email he would have seen that clearly I don't take online dating, or life for that matter, at all seriously.

Hence, why I will be cordially replying and letting him know that I will not be amenable to exchanging future email with which we could use to get to know one know two single caucasian folks...him a male, me a female.


Bea's dating adventures: chapter 8

I'm not sure what prompted my desire to return to the world of dating, but returned I have. Albeit with a twist.

I turn thirtyhundred this month and while I don't feel even remotely this old, apparently age is more than a number for many of the men on various online dating sites. A girlfriend of mine was the first to notice that once she turned thirtyninetynine, communications on said sites seemed to slow down to a trickle, at best. Like, one day, she was chugging along, able to pick and choose who she would respond to because there were so many and the next...the day of her birthday, where her age went up by one year on her profile...nothing.

I thought my friend was exxagerating, but when the time came for my age to creep up by one number, the exact same thing happened. Apparently there is such a thing as "too old" when you're online dating. Boo.

My friend tried an experiment. She deleted her profile and then lowered her age by a year. Bringing her to the age she had been but the day before. And the results were amazing. She was back to receiving message after message after message. But the results were also disheartening. I mean, a year. One stinking year. But it was enough to be screened out from all but a few searches. I swore that I wouldn't ever do that. That it was about quality and not quantity. But you can't even discuss quality when there is no quantity. Like, literally.

And so, I did it. Yesterday. I'm not lying when I say that I have had more guys write me in the last day than wrote me in the last year. Wow.

I know, it's wrong. Bad karma and all that stuff. But here's the catch which I am hoping will offset that teensy modification of the truth:

I'm going to be more open about who I go out with.

If you ever followed my adventures in dating from a few years ago, you may remember that I was quite particular about who I would meet. Not this time around. With VERY few exceptions, I am committed to responding to and then meeting pretty much anyone who wants to meet me. I'm not lowering my standards by any stretch of the imagination. That would be doing myself a huge disservice. It's more that I'm not sure that I'm in a position to judge someone soley based on their picture/profile. And so I'm going to take it to the next step and judge for myself--in person.

Will it lead to success? Um. I'm not sure. I'm hoping to expand my horizons and possibly meet some really nice people. And at the very least, I'm hoping to have some zany adventures which I can blog about for the amusement of all.

Wish me luck!

The perfect storm

AKA Amelia

Yes, Amelia. The movie.

It's like The Universe decided to get together with some movie folks to come up with the least appealing movie ever. EVER.

That movie, as mentioned above, is Amelia.

For anyone who knows me, even a little bit, you'll understand why. But for those who don't, a little background.

It's simple folks. Richard Gere. Hilary Swank. Least favourite actors. In the history of acting. They offend my eyes, nay, the core of my being. Even more than the Aniston. And yes, even more than Dane Cook, though calling either of the latter "actors" is a bit of a stretch. Rounding out the top three would be Billy Bob Thornton, but I shall perhaps just leave that for another day.

Where does this distaste come from? No idea. The only explanation I can come up with is that at some point throughout the history of mank and ind, the forerunners of RichWank killed my people. The innocent Petty's of yore. Slaughtered to a man, woman and child by the fore bearers of the two above mentioned actors. Obviously one of us got away or I clearly wouldn't be here to tell the tale. That would have been Great Grandpa Ebineezer McPetty. And a near miss too, especially given that BBT had spies everywhere.

Sufficed to say I'll be skipping Amelia. Which is too bad. Ewan McGregor is a sexy bitch. Be careful Ewan. Filming may be over and done with, but RichWank is lurking just beyond the next red carpet.


A lazy Sunday

I'm not sure why I find it so hard to find things to write about now that I've left the serial dating scene behind me. It's frightening to think that it seemed to have defined me for so long. As in it was what I was all about. And without it I'm pathetically boring. Poo.

I think I need a Slap Chop. According to Vince it's the key to not having a boring life. Or, I could subscribe to his chosen path in life and beat up a hooker or two. That would definitely be exciting.

I'll keep you posted.