August 2013


WATCH: Someone get this girl a record deal! Girl sings karaoke Whitney in the mall and OWNS it

Zendee Rose Tenerefe is  obviously destined for stardom. The singer, known to YouTube as simple a “random girl” in the mall when the video first surfaced, tired out for the X Factor singing competition series in the Philippines and has made a habit of singing for audiences at the karaoke station in her local mall.

Can someone get this girl a record deal ASAP?

The buzz around her YouTube performance even landed her a gig on Ellen, check it out below.



Check out these other videos on Women’s Post:

This might be the greatest Canadian YouTube video of all time

New video spoofs controversy over mixed race Cheerios family

Reporter goes topless while interviewing B.C. Mayor


You can follow Women’s Post on Twitter at @WomensPost.

Will Sochi be rid of its black eye in time for the Winter Games?

In six months the world’s eyes will be watching the Sochi Winter Olympics in Russia. Sochi, a black sea resort, will host the Winter Games February 7-23 and the Paralympics March 7-16.  Ninety-eight events in 15 sports will be held as Russia will welcome athletes and fans from around the world.

Like with any other Olympics, the excitement and the spirit of the games builds — but with scrutiny since the controversy surrounding the anti-gay ban has erupted. Will Russia be rid of its black eye with world watching?

The new anti-gay law signed by President Vladimir Putin in June of 2013 bans “propaganda of nontraditional sexual relations” and has already seemed likely to spark protests until the end of the Feb. 7-23 Winter Games.

The Associated Press went on to say that U.S. President Barack Obama, British actor Stephen Fry, and international gay rights groups have increased attention on Russia over its new anti-gay law. The International Olympic Committee President Jacques Rogge said Friday that he is “comforted” by Russia’s assurance that the charter’s ban on discrimination will be respected. “We are going to inform now all the national Olympic committees and all the athletes who want to have clarity,” Rogge told reporters after addressing the U.N. General Assembly. Gay activist Nikolai Alexeyev told The Associated Press on Friday that he would petition the Supreme Court next week to contest the presidential decree banning rallies in Sochi as “violating our right of freedom of assembly.” The IAAF called on Russia to reconsider its views on gays, but said Wednesday that it does not want to raise political issues about the country’s new anti-gay legislation at the world championships.

The question remains: will Sochi be rid of its black eye in time to host the Games or it will be healed enough to welcome the whole world?




Follow Christine on Twitter at @ChristineRuns.

Follow Women’s Post on Twitter at @WomensPost.

Serenity now

This past week has been one of the hardest Boyfriend and I have ever had. On Sunday we were having dinner and joking around, ready to watch the third episode of Breaking Bad, everything was good and then the phone rang. Boyfriend’s grandfather had taken a turn for the worse and he had to leave for the hospital right away.

We’ve spent the past week communicating through Facebook, text and the occasional phone call. Unsure of what to say or do I tried to be the bright spot in all the badness. I cracked jokes, sent pictures of puppies and GIFs of playful corgis because that’s what he needed. Inside, however, I was dying. He was in so much pain and all I could do was send memes to make him feel better? I felt weak and powerless.

I know everyone grieves in their own way but it hurt me that I couldn’t be there for him, physically. He didn’t want me at the hospital and yesterday after his grandfather finally peacefully slipped away he told me he didn’t want me at the funeral. I want so badly to be there for him and planning to bring him ice cream and pizza after a funeral feels like something a roommate would do, not a girlfriend. He says that he doesn’t want the rest of his family to meet me at a funeral, he wants me to meet them when they are smiling and acting goofy, but I can’t stop this helpless feeling. Shouldn’t I be there to hold his hand? Isn’t that what having a partner is all about? A partner is supposed to be someone who is there to hold you in the cold, in the dark and when you feel like the world is falling apart.

I know it’s selfish to question his grieving process, I know it’s irrational and he needs me to be there for him in the way that works for him, but I hate feeling useless. I’m a fixer, it’s what I do and I want to fix this situation however impossible that sounds.

I know that we’ll get through this, I know that the bad is almost over and even if it isn’t, bad is part of life and I didn’t sign up for a fair weather relationship; I’m here for the long haul.

I just don’t understand why he doesn’t want me there. If I lost a family member or a friend I don’t know that I could do it without him, I would need him by my side. The fact that he doesn’t need me now breaks my heart.

I’m trying to put my hurt feelings aside and just be there for him in the way that he wants and needs but it’s a lot more difficult than it sounds. So I’m choosing to focus on the future. I’m choosing to plan our anniversary, trips out of the city and a visit to my family, which hopefully will help me shake this nagging feeling that we might be coming to an end.



16 slut-shaming tweets about Miley — and 5 more about her inviting rape

Ladies be warned, if you’ve ever worn a bathing suit or enjoyed dancing, this is what Twitter thinks of you.

Be warned that there is plenty of awful language (and awful people) showcased below. Take a moment to remind yourself that every human being has worth and shouldn’t be judged based on their sexuality, and provocative dancing is not an invitation for sexual assault.

Before you delve below, let’s take a moment to look at a photo of a kitten.

Okay, that should float your soul up a little bit before it utterly plunges when you read the tweets below.

Let’s begin.













 And apparently this is grounds to rape someone:










You can follow Travis on Twitter at @TravMyers.

ROUNDUP: 7 of Toronto’s worst missed connections this week

Ah, another weekend come and gone. While we were out galavanting around and having fun, like always, our hearts narrowly escaped the one true love of our lives. Thank God for missed connections.

This week’s roundup features the bizarre, like this love note from a woman to a squirrel:


The vulgar, like this one about an upshort show:


The one that is likely about me, because this is where I spend my free time:


This posting could very well be a proposition for an orgy made only better by the mention of Queen Trainwreck Tara Reid:


This bizarre catch-all missed connection for what I can only assume are two totally unrelated people who the poster asks on the same date:


This guy trying to pick up a crying woman who witnessed domestic violence:


This cosplay transgender missed connection from Fan Expo, which, if you view on Craiglist, you will see contains sexual anime involving a carrot:



Stay classy Toronto, may our paths cross next weekend.



You can follow Travis on Twitter at @TravMyers.

The Democratic process is fundamental

Today, Toronto City Council has convened to decide on having a by-election or appointing someone to act as councillor in Ward 3 until the 2014 election.

For the first time in almost 4 years I have to agree with the Fords on the importance of having a by-election despite its $200,000+ cost estimate.

The importance of having a truly democratic process in place is fundamental. By appointing someone council will give them the unfair advantage of incumbency (the incumbent has both resources and status to quietly campaign prior to an election).  If council is going to appoint they must appoint someone who would not run in that ward — but it’s virtually impossible to ensure this legally.

With over a year until the next election prior precedent has called for a by-election to ensure that the people get the representative they want.

Although I have offered to fill the seat, it is if, and only if, council decides to appoint someone. I would not seek re-election in the riding although I may seek it elsewhere and want to be very clear of this. I also want to emphasize that a by-election is the only truly democratic way to handle the issue of filling the seat in Ward 3.  I encourage council to support a by-election there.

Vacations and weddings

This column was originally printed in fall 2012.

So, I’ve been seeing the new man for about a month now and I’m still full of butterflies and nervous energy every time I think of him, which is a lot.

On our second date over drinks and dinner he threw me for a loop when he asked me to go on vacation with him this summer. Moving fast, much? But instead of getting freaked out and running away like the commitment-phobe I tend to be when I’m only mostly into someone new; I got excited and started planning the whole trip out in my head.

I’m excited about the idea of vacationing with a manfriend; I’ve never been on the kind of couple trip that has the power to make all of your friends hate you and your incessant Facebook photo uploads. The “Oh, how cute” photo comments drip with jealousy and sarcasm, what we wish we could write is, “Do you ever work? Why are you always sunning yourself in a tropical paradise with your boyfriend? Did you rob a bank?” But that would be inappropriate. It’s my turn to inspire a little jealousy.

Before we can run away to a tropical paradise to make love on a beach and drink umbrella-covered cocktails, I have a question I need to ask him and, in all honesty, I’m more than a little terrified to ask it.

Next month I’m the maid of honour in a friend’s wedding and I’m supposed to bring a date. Initially I was planning to bring a friend, but now that I’m staring at May 25th on my calendar the new manfriend is the only one I want to bring with me. But, in order for him to join me, I’ll need to ask him first. Wedding dates are notoriously pressure-filled and I don’t want him to feel like I’m trying to move things too quickly.

Considering that he asked me to fly away with him to another country on our second date, I feel as though it isn’t at all inappropriate to ask him to join me as my date to a wedding. But, that doesn’t stop me from worrying that a serious invite will scare him off and cast me in the role of “crazy girl” before we even have a chance to figure each other out.

I’m happier with the new man than I have been with anyone else I’ve been with in the past year. He doesn’t play games like Waiting Man and he doesn’t disappear for days on end like Country Boy – he’s a man and he says exactly what he means and does exactly what he says he will. It’s this happiness that scares me most; I’m afraid that the wrong move will ruin something wonderful.

I’m not going to let the fear hold me back from doing something exciting. If he can jump in feet first on our second date, I can do it on our fifth. If he says no, at least I know that I didn’t let the fear hold me back. Knowing is definitely better than not knowing.


The worst neighbour of all

For someone with one of the loudest voices around (what Margaret Laurence used to call a “carrying voice”), I sure am touchy about noise.

Other people’s loud music especially touches a nerve, particularly if it’s got a lot of bass. Maybe it’s a neurotic holdover from my childhood — as a kid I used to tremble with little-sister outrage at the Led Zeppelin pouring out from the cracks around my older sister’s door, interfering with my fantasy world of Barbie dolls and story writing — but if it is a neurosis, I don’t think I’m alone in having it. If I had been, then The Docks wouldn’t have just lost its liquor licence at the hands of its desperate and deafened neighbours.

What are The Docks? They’re (or it’s) a nightclub on the water’s edge in downtown Toronto. I’ve been there once, for a party, and there was volleyball, a drive-in, and a discotheque with spinning pink lights and clouds of dry ice. Patrons could do everything from bungee jumping to sunbathing, but I don’t really recall anything there that involved actually listening to music.

Certainly there was something called music, but it was too loud to understand or appreciate or listen to comfortably. You could dance to it, but it wasn’t music. It was — well, boomboomboogieboogie NOISE.

The Docks also have concerts, and one of them recently was still going on at seven o’clock in the morning. “An all-night rave,” a neighbour called it. Because The Docks (as much as they don’t like them) have neighbours.

Most of the neighbours live only a few hundred yards away, on an island. Most of the “island residents” live in charming cottages without benefit of sewers or convenience stores, have to take a ferry back and forth to the mainland, and are often resented by the rest of the city residents for living on a gorgeous island paradise when the rest of us live in cement bunkers on patches of pesticide-soaked crabgrass (or at least, that’s how we make it sound, when we decide to whine about the Islanders).

Whether the Islanders have it better than the mainlanders is not the point. The point is that they are the ones suffering most from the hellish racket made by The Docks. After many years of complaints, The Docks recently — finally — lost a noise violation suit brought by the City of Toronto, for having so many dang loud parties. The decision of the court, which heard from neighbouring residents whose nerves were so frayed by the thundering, soul-jarring racket that they were in tears or on meds or both, was that The Docks was making way too much noise, was a really bad neighbour, and did not have the right to blow other city residents’ houses off their foundations so that they could throw big parties and make money off it (I’m paraphrasing the legalese).

The punishment: hit ’em where it hurts. The Docks received a liquor licence suspension. The howls of outrage from the “entertainment industry” over the unfairness of this, and how people would lose their jobs, and how ridiculous the “small group” of “islanders” was being (as if living on an island gave them no right to peace), and what a bunch of party poopers the city was, were almost — but not quite — as loud as the noise that The Docks emits, like aural sewage into the atmosphere.

Their howls sounded like the squeals of a spoiled teenager who’s been told to turn down the stereo. “You can’t make me!” hollered The Docks, sending in the money, guns, and lawyers, and filing an appeal. And the night of the decision, the liquor was still flowing and The Docks were still beating the city over the head with noise. But it ain’t just the islanders. Other neighbours can hear it too. But who cares who complained? The Docks’ noise problems are not the neighbours’ — or the City’s — problems to solve. Private enterprises can’t stomp around insisting everyone march to their boombox. Nobody has the right to stink up the night like The Docks does. We all live here. Turn down the volume, or get out of town.