Need a replacement TV show to take up the spot of much beloved yet deceased X-files

Writing about the best Halloween-worthy episodes of the X-files has made me nostalgic of the time when I couldn’t wait for the newest episode of a show to come out. And while Heroes and Ugly Betty have definitely made me happy in the last two years… Well, they are no X-files.

And so, I have decided to go look for a show to replace my beloved X-files. Because I know most of the episodes by heart, and have no movie to look forward to until 2012 (hopefully I’ll be wrong about that).

Suggestions anyone?

November 2nd post of Dead-Alive for Nanowrimo 2008


© Sahar’s Blog

Part 1

This wasn’t the first time it had happened, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. It was a terrible thing to go through, but that wasn’t my biggest problem. While it was hard enough on me, what I really couldn’t stand was how hard it was on Talya.

“Where were you this time?” she asked. She looked worried sick; it was an expression I didn’t like on her face, even less when it was caused by me.

“In an abandoned barn, a few miles away.”

“You walked?”

I looked down at my dirty, shoeless feet. “Probably.”

She followed my gaze, then gasped. “You’re bleeding again.”

She threw the covers off and flew out of bed, catching my hand and dragging me behind her on the way to the bathroom. We stayed silent as we cleaned and bandaged my feet for the third time this month, each nursing our own troubled thoughts. Talya was such an incredible woman. I was happy and proud to call her my wife. Had the tables been turned, I probably wouldn’t have been able to handle my wife’s mysterious nightly excursions into random areas of town where she would have walking nightmares involving murders, mutilations, rapes and other horrible things with as much grace.

That is what had been happening to me lately, and it scared the living daylights out of me. It was starting to seriously affect me in my day to day life. I couldn’t sleep, my appetite was taking a plunge (as was my weight) and my performance at work was suffering.

But Talya… She was scared, that was certain, but her head remained screwed tightly in place. Ironically enough, what made me less efficient made her more so; I had never seen her achieve this much in this short amount of time ever in the 10 years we had known each other. Ever the scientist, she had even started a chart on me – chart that I started supplying to myself a couple of weeks later. I had refused to do so sooner, hoping this would just disappear. No use denying the presence of something that wasn’t bound to go anywhere anytime soon.

“What did you see?” Talya softly asked. “How bad was it?”

I shuddered. “It wasn’t as bad as usual, but it was still bad.”

“Murder only?”

I nodded. “A man, in his forties or fifties, killed another man over what looked like drugs.”

“Easier than last week, wasn’t it,” Talya said, trying, as always to look at the bright side, however dim it might be.

“Definitely.” Last week’s dream of the murder of a little child had sent me into a sobbing fit that had lasted long enough for me to lose most of my body warmth. Thankfully, that nightly escapade had happened on a night I had fallen asleep at my desk with a housecoat on, in which I had the habit of tucking my cell phone. I had called up Talya, who had come to pick me up.

I had spent that night standing in the doorway of my four year-old’s bedroom, tears pouring down my face. It had taken every bit of will power for me to drop her off at her play date the next day, as well as to drop my six year-old at school.

“I figured something out last night,” Talya said.

I couldn’t talk; the memory of the child’s mutilated body, whose face would morph into that of my children during the night, was too close to the surface. I just nodded at her, begging her to go on and hopefully put me on the path to recovery.

“Remember that dream you had a couple of weeks ago, about the woman who had been raped then strangled?”

I nodded again.

“She was in the news a couple of years ago.”

My jaw dropped open. “Are you telling me…”

“You might not be having dreams, Sean. They might be visions.”

Montreal, lair of North America’s newest superheroes: Les Justiciers Masqués

Montreal is the host of the internationally known Just for Laughs festival. What a lot of people from around the world don’t know is that Montreal is also host to many insane people with fun senses of humor who pull of the most fun and as well as the funniest of pranks, including Les Justiciers Masqués (loosely translated: the Masked Avengers).

Les Justiciers Masqués are radio show hosts who have pulled many pranks in the past (pranking the likes of Nicolas Sarkozy (oh, the irony), Tiger Woods, Bill Gates and Britney Spears), but this latest one is probably the one that will boost their popularity like nothing else has managed to do before. As of November 2nd, at 10AM, there are over 2’300 news articles around the world about the prank.

Somehow, they managed to get their hands on Sarah Palin’s phone number – or the phone number of her campaign offices – and pretended to be Nicolas Sarkozy calling her to lend his support before the big day.

Funny moments include the initial caller’s name (Frank l’Ouvrier, which translates into Frank the Worker), the name of Nicolas Sarkozy’s special advisor (Johnny Hallyday, a French pop star and icon), a reference to the Canadian Prime Minister as ‘Steph Carse’, and the title of a song by Cecilia Bruni (Nicolas Sarkozy’s wife) ‘du rouge à lèvre sur une cochonne’ (which translates into lipstick on a pig).

While Sarah Palin claims to have been mildly amused by the prank, the end of the phone call, quite abrupt, leads me to believe otherwise – she seemed anything but amused. It’s probably because of the stress of the elections; so, hopefully she will be able to listen to the entire conversation again after they are over and have a good laugh at what is a great prank.

Whatever you do, don’t do this – and trust me, you, too, can get to this point

Ah, traveling. The joys of leaving behind the comforts of home, willingly accept to be treated like a felon or a convict while at the airport, suffering through 5 to 8 (or more) hours of stale air, questionable food and funky water (I stand by my opinion that plane water tastes funky!) to arrive in a place we don’t know, don’t speak the language and don’t know a thing about.

OK, so I sound a little negative there. Sorry. Traveling is also a lot of fun. But let’s be honest, traveling lately involves a lot more trouble than it did a mere 10 years ago.

This lovely article landed in my inbox today, and I enjoyed it so much I wanted to share it with you. Balancing the positive with the negative, it ends with a really funny anecdote – something I hope will never happen to any of you.


Tired and Impatient? Keep Your Pants On

Published: October 27, 2008

CANCELED flights, delayed flights and surly crews.

This is the stuff of travel.

But occasionally, airline personnel are helpful, going beyond the confines of their job descriptions.

I was flying into London, where I had to make a connecting flight with little time to spare. The plane hit turbulence, and my iPhone popped out of my pocket and disappeared deep into my seat.

I had to have an attendant feverishly make like a mechanic and take the seat apart to retrieve it. My phone was crushed. Its screen was busted. But I was grateful. I made my connection.

One airline crew even got me some pizza.

To find out what kind and why, go here.