A THOUSAND WORDS - Alex Waterhouse-Hayward's blog on pictures, plants, politics and whatever else is on his mind.




 

Playboy
Saturday, September 26, 2015



Christ said, "I tell you that anyone who looks on a woman with lust has in his heart already committed adultery." I've looked on a lot of women with lust. I've committed adultery in my heart many times. This is something that God recognizes I will do—and I have done it—and God forgives me for it. But that doesn't mean that I condemn someone who not only looks on a woman with lust but who leaves his wife and shacks up with somebody out of wedlock. Christ says, don't consider yourself better than someone else because one guy screws a whole bunch of women while the other guy is loyal to his wife. The guy who's loyal to his wife ought not to be condescending or proud because of the relative degree of sinfulness.
Jimmy Carter in November 1976 Playboy interview

Jimmy Carter is not a Roman Catholic but this blogger was educated in a Roman Catholic boarding school high school in Austin, Texas. I have some of that Jimmy Carter guilt built in. I must admit, before I go on that at age 73 I still look at attractive women and undress them in my mind.

In 1954-55 I was living in Nueva Rosita, Coahuila, Mexico. It was a mining town  run by American Smelting and Refining Company. My mother was the teacher for the company’s children in a two-room school house. We lived in the American Hotel. Engineer Juan Jaime (a handsome bachelor) had subscriptions to True Magazine, Argosy, Esquire and Playboy. After reading them he would leave them in the hotel magazine rack. It was in those magazines that I first got my first real glimpses of unadorned female flesh. To do this I had to be sneaky and my Catholic upbringing left me with lots of guilt.

Before we moved to Nueva Rosita we had lived in Mexico City where this boy feasted his eyes on the cleavage (found in cheap Mexican periodicals) of Brigitte Bardot. But thanks to Juan Jaime my exposure became more thorough.

In later years, by the early 60s Playboy was banned in Mexico so it was difficult to find it.  Find it I did but not with regularity.

In 1975 when my Rosemary and two daughters and I drove to Vancouver, BC to stay in Canada I was suddenly able to become a member of Book-of-the-Month Club (and immediately bought The Rise & Fall of the Third Reich)  and buy not only Playboys but (yes!) Penthouse. By 1977 I was working as a freelancer for Vancouver Magazine. I was astounded to find out that the Playboy cartoons of office Christmas parties were based on fact. At Vancouver Magazine during these parties you had to be careful as to what office door you might open. There was plenty of activity to be found on editors’ desks.

Then in the late 80s my writer friend Les Wiseman wrote an article for the magazine on the Vancouver-based Playboy centerfold women. I was given the dream assignment. But before then I had already photographed a red-haired Bunny who hailed from a Baltic country (her parents did).
By the 1990 I had taken enough photographs of unadorned female flesh that I escalated my photography to an erotic direction. It was then that I noticed that you had Helmut Newton (my hero) and the rest, particularly the photographers for  “those” magazines in which the photographs of women were in bad taste simply because they had no theme or purpose. Penthouse made those lower country areas very pink and very shiny. For me it was a turn off.

I remember getting into arguments with my Argentine nephews on the purpose (a stupid one in my eyes) of featuring women in bikinis to advertise toothpaste. I had some of that Canadian realization on the evils of making women objects and not persons. My nephews simply attacked my sexual proclivity.

Long before that I had stopped buying girly magazines. I frequented the local strip parlours where I sipped soda water and made friends with the dancers.

But when I found out in December 1998 that gold medal skater Katarina Witt had posed for Playboy I immediately went to buy it. To my chagrin Playboy was sold out. My friend Robert Hijar who lived in Memphis sent me a copy. That was the last issue of Playboy I ever saw. If you notice I have scanned it as I have kept the magazine.

The news that Playboy is no longer going to feature nudies pleases me to no end. Perhaps they will now hire good photographers who will upgrade the idea of women with not much on in some way as to not depersonalize them (and remove those silly smiles they always had) and at the same time empower them so that they are women as men should see them in this 21st Century.

And I must admit that I never read a piece of fiction by Joyce Carol Oates in that December 1998 Playboy. I plan to correct that shortly.

The photographs shown here I took of a lovely school teacher. The pictures shown here do not show bits but do show my early attempts (1977) to deal with the problem of taking pictures of women while in some way dispelling all those Catholic tendencies. I approached these photographs (to the best of my ability) in the same way (or at least that is what I told myself and others) as a doctor looks at undraped female patients. 














Kodachrome
Friday, September 25, 2015



Kodachrome - Photograph Alex Waterhouse-Hayward
Kodachrome - Paul Simon                                                     


When I think back
On all the crap I learned in high school
It's a wonder
I can think at all
And though my lack of education
Hasn't hurt me none
I can read the writing on the wall

Kodachrome
They give us those nice bright colors
They give us the greens of summers
Makes you think all the world's a sunny day
I got a Nikon camera
I love to take a photograph
So mama don't take my Kodachrome away

If you took all the girls I knew
When I was single
And brought them all together for one night
I know they'd never match
my sweet imagination
Everything looks worse in black and white

Kodachrome, etc.

Kodachrome - Simon & Garfunkel






Flickering Forward Into the Past
Thursday, September 24, 2015




More than ever before in my life, time is on my mind. My Rosemary often says that all I do is to look back into the past. She goes further and tells me, “You live in the past.”

I have a few small facts about her. I know that by the time she was 16 and living in New Dublin, Ontario she was the smartest girl in class (I believe she was bussed to Brockville as New Dublin had one church and one cemetery and not much else.) Rosemary played the organ at church services. She left New Dublin as soon as she could on a scholarship to Queens University. I know that in 1967 she brought a class of students to Mexico City. I married her in 1968.  I believe that somewhere in my memory she mentioned one boyfriend.

She has a sister who was sent by their parents to check me out and I wondered if they even knew that I ate with a fork and knife.

And I know not more than the above. My rosemary is private about her past. She says she is not social.

Of my past Rosemary knows just about everything and every day I load her up with more stuff. She does read this blog every once in a while.

More than ever before in my life, time is on my mind.

After 30 years in a garden I see trees that I planted that may have been two feet tall now some up to 50 feet. I have mature hostas that I have not moved or split since I plunked them in the ground in the early 90s. I look at some of them and instantly see the faces of American friends who gave them to me or urged me to buy them at a long gone National Hosta Convention. Some of these friends are dead.

When we first started growing roses the President of the Vancouver Rose Society recommended a few plants. She then ordered them from nurseries in England and back East. Some prospered some died. Our President’s house in Southlands was sold and our President now has no memory of who she might have been. For her time is now.

Going into my garden is a time machine. I can see where a plant was and now that we are leaving the garden I am trying to find a place for them in the scheme of things. I look at the trees that are too big to me moved and I know they will precede my own final reckoning with time.

But in the middle of a sleepless night (I have been getting many of these and Captain Beefheart's lyric from Ashtray Hearts comes to mind, “Somebody’s had too much to think.”) I had a revelation about time. It came about that I was reading Ian Rankin’s 2013 Saints of the Shadow Bible. My VPL receipt on this large print novel (the only one they had!) serves as my book marker.

I am reading a book that was delivered to the VPL on May 2014. Perhaps Rankin finished it in 2012. I took it out last week. As I read it I turn pages. What I read yesterday (at one time my present) is now today’s past. As I turn pages the instant I read a page it becomes a past, a receding past. I can stop the recession by closing the book and telling myself I will never finish it. While this may terminate my relation with Rebus, my own involvement in time, like the pages of Saints of the Shadow Bible, flicker past toward and ending unknown (at least right now). Erebus will of certainty be.

Thinking in my bed about tomorrow is not thinking about the past, but the thought itself of that future, is now past. It may be an unresolved or resolved future, but it is still in the past.

I cannot argue with my Rosemary and she may be right on her assertion that I live in the pas. But I often think of my mentors, of my parents, of my mother’s voice, of my father’s smell of whiskey and Player’s Navy Cuts. I think of the moment I first saw that blonde bombshell in a mini-skirt (my Rosemary) and I know I have the power to turn my book upside down and flicker the pages forward into a past that is as real as this present that is no more as I place this period.

I have written the above, now Wednesday, October 15. Because I have a few holes in September and  in the beginning of October I am madly filling in the gaps. So with this blog  and a few more I have the ability to place my today blog into that past, the date you see above. Or I could have placed this blog for next year and if I had it far enough into a future I might self-publish it posthumously. Not bad for immutable time!



Nora Patrich - Pintora
Wednesday, September 23, 2015

My Mother's Red Shawl - El Rebozo Colorado
Nora Patrich - Pintora




UNA CANCIÓN

RECUERDO QUE UNA VEZ ESCUCHE UNA CANCIÓN QUE DECÍA,

SOLO EL AMOR CONSIGUE ENCENDER LO MUERTO…

SOLO EL AMOR CONSIGE ILUMINAR EL BARRO…

Y ESE RECUERDO HACE QUE ME PREGUNTE  ¿CUÁN FUERTE DEBE SER ESE AMOR PARA QUE MIS OJOS VUELVAN A ENCENDER LO MUERTO?, PARA QUE ILUMINE EL BARRO Y ASI EN ESA BUSQUEDA PUEDA VOLVER A EMPEZAR…

COMENZAR CON ESA LUZ PERDIDA, Y VUELTA A ENCONTRAR.
POR LAS SOMBRAS ENCONTRADAS QUE LENTAMENTE A TRAVÉS DE LOS AÑOS  VOLVIERON ATRÁS…

COMENZAR POR EL COLOR QUE  MI MEMORIA JAMÁS ME DEJO OLVIDAR.
POR DONDE VOLVER A EMPEZAR.

CIERRO LOS OJOS DE FRENTE  CARA AL SOL Y VEO EL ROJO DE LA SANGRE ANIDADA EN MIS PÁRPADOS…

¡AH!… SI, ROJO, ROJO…….. RECUERDO EL ROJO,
EL ROJO VIDA, EL ROJO MUERTE, EL ROJO AMOR, PASIÓN, HORROR…
 RENACER

¡AH!… SI,  DE ESTE MODO SABER QUE EN TUS OJOS ESTÁN MIS ALAS Y EN MIS MANOS ESTÁ MI VIDA.

AHORA SÉ QUE EN REALIDAD, NUNCA TUVE QUE VOLVER A EMPEZAR…
SOLO CONTINÚO CON ESE PEDACITO DE  LUZ Y EL PEDACITO DE COLOR QUE SE NEGO ABANDONAR MIS OJOS…

LUZ, COLOR, SOMBRAS QUE SON MI MÚSICA PARA QUE MIS PINCELES SIGAN DANZANDO SOBRE MIS TELAS Y MIS PAPELES, TIZA,CARBÓN, GRAFITO AÚN EN MIS MANOS, ENTRE MIS DEDOS,.

SIGO VOLANDO, VIAJANDO, CREANDO, SOÑANDO…

NORA PATRICH


  Keely Jade Daikin - Photojournalist & Treeplanter

Nicole Langdon Davies - Photographer


 Juliana Soltis - Cellist - Nomad

Kyla Gardiner - Theatrical Lighting Director

Curtis Daily - Contrabassist

Bob Mercer – Editor – Musician - Friend

Jorge JoséO'Reilly - Primo/Sobrino - Amigo - Campeón de Rugby

 Art Bergmann Singer-Songwriter- Guitarist

Homero Aridjis Poeta

Zippy Pinhead Musician

Caitlin Legault Art Model

Holly McRea Model - Poet - Creation Conduit.

Lisa Ha Model - Volunteer - Friend

Carmen Alatorre Diseñadora de vestuario

Roberto Baschetti Sociólogo, Investigador Histórico - Amigo

Jennifer Froese Youth Worker

Rachel Cairns Actor

Jennifer Landels Espadachina

Judith Currelly Pilot- Artist

Jim Erickson Set Decorator

Alexandra Hill Soprano

Georgina Elizabeth Isles Figure Model

Emma Middleton Actor

Mark Pryor Author/Lawyer/Assistant DA Travis County TX

Brother Edwin Charles Reggio, CSC Mentor & Teacher

Veronica Vex Burlesque Dancer

George McWhirter Poet

Raúl Guerrero Montemayor Padre-Compadre

Alexandra Waterhouse-Hayward Maestra

Shirley Gnome Singer/Provocateur

Yeva & Thoenn Glover Dancers/Choreographers

JJ Lee Writer

Jacqueline Model

Cathy Marsden Psychiatrist

André De Mondo Wanderer

Colin MacDonald Saxophonist/Composer

Nina Gouveia Yoga Instructor

Stacey Hutton Excercise Physiologist

Colleen Wheeler Actor

Sarah Rodgers Actor, Director,Mother

Tim Turner - Real Estate Agent

Kiera Hill Dancer

Johnna Wright & Sascha Director/Mother - Son/Dreamer

Decker & Nick Hunt Cat & 19th century amateur

George Bowering Poet

Celia Duthie Gallerist

Linda Lorenzo Mother

Katheryn Petersen Accordionist

Stefanie Denz Artist

Ivette Hernández Actress

Byron Chief-Moon Actor/Dancer

Colin Horricks Doctor

Ian Mulgrew Vancouver Sun Columnist

Jocelyn Morlock Composer

Corinne McConchie Librarian

Rachel Ditor Dramaturg

Patrick Reid Statesman, Flag Designer

Michael Varga CBC Cameraman

Bronwen Marsden Playwright/Actress/Director

David Baines Vancouver Sun Columnist

Alex Waterhouse-Hayward Photographer

Lauren Elizabeth Stewart Student

Sandrine Cassini Dancer/Choreographer

Meredith Kalaman Dancer/Choreographer

Juliya Kate Dominatrix





Keely Jade Dakin - Photojournalist & Treeplanter
Tuesday, September 22, 2015



My Mother's Red Shawl - El Rebozo Colorado
Keely Jade Dakin - Photojournalist & Treeplanter






Red Rebozo – the embracing warmth of a shawl from Mexico - My Little Black Book – the power to travel beyond borders

The Mexican rebozo is warm under the cool plastic of my Canadian passport.

One is a symbol and tool of the people of Mexico, telling a tale of the mixed heritage of its people, both Spanish and indigenous. The other, my little black book, is my ticket to freedom.

The rebozo is worn by women across the country, to decorate and celebrate their womanhood, as well as to carry their burdens, from food, to children, to guns across their backs. The rebozo is an article of womanhood, grace and modesty, as well as a symbol of revolution, identity and strength.

I am a traveller. I wander to the whistle of my whims. Focused as a flame without hearth.

Since the age of 18 I have worn thin the rubber of my wandering soles in a glutinous lust to explore places and people. Craving experience, craving understanding, craving something.

As a Canadian I have been able to indulge this thirst. My little black book with the crest of a foreign Queen, she grants me access with her crown and jowly nod. With its black and white rendition of my features, lips turned down in the regimented sombreness of post 9/11, I can enter almost any nation.

Stowed in belt pouches, or knapsacks or contoured to the cup of my bra, it has seen me past countless frowning U.S. Customs officers. It has withstood monsoon down pours and the vile heat of the tropics, always bringing me home to the cool, true north.

This little book is one of four I have held since I first ventured beyond borders at the age of 11. They have been inked with stamps from some threescore countries, including Nicaragua, Honduras, Colombia, Peru, Cuba, Turkey, Hungary, Romania, Serbia, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Italy, Bulgaria, Germany, Switzerland, Mexico and Haiti.

The majority of countries welcomed me without even the purchase of a visa.

This heady freedom is the result of ancestors who hopped on a boat from the British Isles and landed near Boston, U of A, around the time of the May Flower. Eventually the British Loyalists abandoned Uncle Sam moved north to Nova Scotia. Finally my great grandparents made the journey west from one coast the other with the dream of a ranch. I can also give thanks to a Ukrainian grandfather, who was a veritable cad, but nonetheless came to Canada and provided another quarter of my gene pool.
 
Over the handful of centuries that my ancestors have lived in North America, I have no doubt that members of my blood raped and oppressed First Nation people in their quest for a new life. Ever is the way of the conquering populace.

All of these lives past conspired to grant me the advantage of being born as a white woman in the second largest country in the world, a country still rich with wild places and with a meagre population, at a time when women vote and live as independent creatures. Because of this, I can travel to most countries with nothing but a pocket full of dough and my little black book.

I have friends, both in Canada — on shaky legal standing — and in other countries, who do not hold a Queen’s booklet. Whether for financial reasons or simply due the political standing of their nation of birth, their feet are tethered.

Holding my passport while wearing this red rebozo seems right to me because it reminds me of the obtuse lottery which is life.  A lottery of chance, based on politics, war, economics and who is the power of the century.

I have many options and I am grateful, yet I also recognize that it is not because I am in any way special. I am no more deserving than those in born under any other flag, be it Mexico, Syria, Colombia, Cuba, Haiti, Bosnia or Iran.

When will we respect that people in all countries should experience freedom of movement? Freedom beyond borders. When will we value all lives equally?

The cynic in me says never. You want to know which Nation, which people will ride high and wild next round? Here, you can use my dice.





Nicole Langdon Davies - Photographer

 Juliana Soltis - Cellist - Nomad

Kyla Gardiner - Theatrical Lighting Director

Curtis Daily - Contrabassist

Bob Mercer – Editor – Musician - Friend

Jorge JoséO'Reilly - Primo/Sobrino - Amigo - Campeón de Rugby

 Art Bergmann Singer-Songwriter- Guitarist

Homero Aridjis Poeta

Zippy Pinhead Musician

Caitlin Legault Art Model

Holly McRea Model - Poet - Creation Conduit.

Lisa Ha Model - Volunteer - Friend

Carmen Alatorre Diseñadora de vestuario

Roberto Baschetti Sociólogo, Investigador Histórico - Amigo

Jennifer Froese Youth Worker

Rachel Cairns Actor

Jennifer Landels Espadachina

Judith Currelly Pilot- Artist

Jim Erickson Set Decorator

Alexandra Hill Soprano

Georgina Elizabeth Isles Figure Model

Emma Middleton Actor

Mark Pryor Author/Lawyer/Assistant DA Travis County TX

Brother Edwin Charles Reggio, CSC Mentor & Teacher

Veronica Vex Burlesque Dancer

George McWhirter Poet

Raúl Guerrero Montemayor Padre-Compadre

Alexandra Waterhouse-Hayward Maestra

Shirley Gnome Singer/Provocateur

Yeva & Thoenn Glover Dancers/Choreographers

JJ Lee Writer

Jacqueline Model

Cathy Marsden Psychiatrist

André De Mondo Wanderer

Colin MacDonald Saxophonist/Composer

Nina Gouveia Yoga Instructor

Stacey Hutton Excercise Physiologist

Colleen Wheeler Actor

Sarah Rodgers Actor, Director,Mother

Tim Turner - Real Estate Agent

Kiera Hill Dancer

Johnna Wright & Sascha Director/Mother - Son/Dreamer

Decker & Nick Hunt Cat & 19th century amateur

George Bowering Poet

Celia Duthie Gallerist

Linda Lorenzo Mother

Katheryn Petersen Accordionist

Stefanie Denz Artist

Ivette Hernández Actress

Byron Chief-Moon Actor/Dancer

Colin Horricks Doctor

Ian Mulgrew Vancouver Sun Columnist

Jocelyn Morlock Composer

Corinne McConchie Librarian

Rachel Ditor Dramaturg

Patrick Reid Statesman, Flag Designer

Michael Varga CBC Cameraman

Bronwen Marsden Playwright/Actress/Director

David Baines Vancouver Sun Columnist

Alex Waterhouse-Hayward Photographer

Lauren Elizabeth Stewart Student

Sandrine Cassini Dancer/Choreographer

Meredith Kalaman Dancer/Choreographer

Juliya Kate Dominatrix



     

Previous Posts
Abraham Darby - Three Men & an Over the Top Rose

Doctor Pat McGeer - The Basketball Player

The State of Being Alone

Red

Grace & Elegance

I hoed and trenched and weeded

Performances That Have Melted Into Thin Air

Love Is Doing - Rosemary Does

Resistentialism & Free Will

La Belle Sultane



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9/13/09 - 9/20/09

9/20/09 - 9/27/09

9/27/09 - 10/4/09

10/4/09 - 10/11/09

10/11/09 - 10/18/09

10/18/09 - 10/25/09

10/25/09 - 11/1/09

11/1/09 - 11/8/09

11/8/09 - 11/15/09

11/15/09 - 11/22/09

11/22/09 - 11/29/09

11/29/09 - 12/6/09

12/6/09 - 12/13/09

12/13/09 - 12/20/09

12/20/09 - 12/27/09

12/27/09 - 1/3/10

1/3/10 - 1/10/10

1/10/10 - 1/17/10

1/17/10 - 1/24/10

1/24/10 - 1/31/10

1/31/10 - 2/7/10

2/7/10 - 2/14/10

2/14/10 - 2/21/10

2/21/10 - 2/28/10

2/28/10 - 3/7/10

3/7/10 - 3/14/10

3/14/10 - 3/21/10

3/21/10 - 3/28/10

3/28/10 - 4/4/10

4/4/10 - 4/11/10

4/11/10 - 4/18/10

4/18/10 - 4/25/10

4/25/10 - 5/2/10

5/2/10 - 5/9/10

5/9/10 - 5/16/10

5/16/10 - 5/23/10

5/23/10 - 5/30/10

5/30/10 - 6/6/10

6/6/10 - 6/13/10

6/13/10 - 6/20/10

6/20/10 - 6/27/10

6/27/10 - 7/4/10

7/4/10 - 7/11/10

7/11/10 - 7/18/10

7/18/10 - 7/25/10

7/25/10 - 8/1/10

8/1/10 - 8/8/10

8/8/10 - 8/15/10

8/15/10 - 8/22/10

8/22/10 - 8/29/10

8/29/10 - 9/5/10

9/5/10 - 9/12/10

9/12/10 - 9/19/10

9/19/10 - 9/26/10

9/26/10 - 10/3/10

10/3/10 - 10/10/10

10/10/10 - 10/17/10

10/17/10 - 10/24/10

10/24/10 - 10/31/10

10/31/10 - 11/7/10

11/7/10 - 11/14/10

11/14/10 - 11/21/10

11/21/10 - 11/28/10

11/28/10 - 12/5/10

12/5/10 - 12/12/10

12/12/10 - 12/19/10

12/19/10 - 12/26/10

12/26/10 - 1/2/11

1/2/11 - 1/9/11

1/9/11 - 1/16/11

1/16/11 - 1/23/11

1/23/11 - 1/30/11

1/30/11 - 2/6/11

2/6/11 - 2/13/11

2/13/11 - 2/20/11

2/20/11 - 2/27/11

2/27/11 - 3/6/11

3/6/11 - 3/13/11

3/13/11 - 3/20/11

3/20/11 - 3/27/11

3/27/11 - 4/3/11

4/3/11 - 4/10/11

4/10/11 - 4/17/11

4/17/11 - 4/24/11

4/24/11 - 5/1/11

5/1/11 - 5/8/11

5/8/11 - 5/15/11

5/15/11 - 5/22/11

5/22/11 - 5/29/11

5/29/11 - 6/5/11

6/5/11 - 6/12/11

6/12/11 - 6/19/11

6/19/11 - 6/26/11

6/26/11 - 7/3/11

7/3/11 - 7/10/11

7/10/11 - 7/17/11

7/17/11 - 7/24/11

7/24/11 - 7/31/11

7/31/11 - 8/7/11

8/7/11 - 8/14/11

8/14/11 - 8/21/11

8/21/11 - 8/28/11

8/28/11 - 9/4/11

9/4/11 - 9/11/11

9/11/11 - 9/18/11

9/18/11 - 9/25/11

9/25/11 - 10/2/11

10/2/11 - 10/9/11

10/9/11 - 10/16/11

10/16/11 - 10/23/11

10/23/11 - 10/30/11

10/30/11 - 11/6/11

11/6/11 - 11/13/11

11/13/11 - 11/20/11

11/20/11 - 11/27/11

11/27/11 - 12/4/11

12/4/11 - 12/11/11

12/11/11 - 12/18/11

12/18/11 - 12/25/11

12/25/11 - 1/1/12

1/1/12 - 1/8/12

1/8/12 - 1/15/12

1/15/12 - 1/22/12

1/22/12 - 1/29/12

1/29/12 - 2/5/12

2/5/12 - 2/12/12

2/12/12 - 2/19/12

2/19/12 - 2/26/12

2/26/12 - 3/4/12

3/4/12 - 3/11/12

3/11/12 - 3/18/12

3/18/12 - 3/25/12

3/25/12 - 4/1/12

4/1/12 - 4/8/12

4/8/12 - 4/15/12

4/15/12 - 4/22/12

4/22/12 - 4/29/12

4/29/12 - 5/6/12

5/6/12 - 5/13/12

5/13/12 - 5/20/12

5/20/12 - 5/27/12

5/27/12 - 6/3/12

6/3/12 - 6/10/12

6/10/12 - 6/17/12

6/17/12 - 6/24/12

6/24/12 - 7/1/12

7/1/12 - 7/8/12

7/8/12 - 7/15/12

7/15/12 - 7/22/12

7/22/12 - 7/29/12

7/29/12 - 8/5/12

8/5/12 - 8/12/12

8/12/12 - 8/19/12

8/19/12 - 8/26/12

8/26/12 - 9/2/12

9/2/12 - 9/9/12

9/9/12 - 9/16/12

9/16/12 - 9/23/12

9/23/12 - 9/30/12

9/30/12 - 10/7/12

10/7/12 - 10/14/12

10/14/12 - 10/21/12

10/21/12 - 10/28/12

10/28/12 - 11/4/12

11/4/12 - 11/11/12

11/11/12 - 11/18/12

11/18/12 - 11/25/12

11/25/12 - 12/2/12

12/2/12 - 12/9/12

12/9/12 - 12/16/12

12/16/12 - 12/23/12

12/23/12 - 12/30/12

12/30/12 - 1/6/13

1/6/13 - 1/13/13

1/13/13 - 1/20/13

1/20/13 - 1/27/13

1/27/13 - 2/3/13

2/3/13 - 2/10/13

2/10/13 - 2/17/13

2/17/13 - 2/24/13

2/24/13 - 3/3/13

3/3/13 - 3/10/13

3/10/13 - 3/17/13

3/17/13 - 3/24/13

3/24/13 - 3/31/13

3/31/13 - 4/7/13

4/7/13 - 4/14/13

4/14/13 - 4/21/13

4/21/13 - 4/28/13

4/28/13 - 5/5/13

5/5/13 - 5/12/13

5/12/13 - 5/19/13

5/19/13 - 5/26/13

5/26/13 - 6/2/13

6/2/13 - 6/9/13

6/9/13 - 6/16/13

6/16/13 - 6/23/13

6/23/13 - 6/30/13

6/30/13 - 7/7/13

7/7/13 - 7/14/13

7/14/13 - 7/21/13

7/21/13 - 7/28/13

7/28/13 - 8/4/13

8/4/13 - 8/11/13

8/11/13 - 8/18/13

8/18/13 - 8/25/13

8/25/13 - 9/1/13

9/1/13 - 9/8/13

9/8/13 - 9/15/13

9/15/13 - 9/22/13

9/22/13 - 9/29/13

9/29/13 - 10/6/13

10/6/13 - 10/13/13

10/13/13 - 10/20/13

10/20/13 - 10/27/13

10/27/13 - 11/3/13

11/3/13 - 11/10/13

11/10/13 - 11/17/13

11/17/13 - 11/24/13

11/24/13 - 12/1/13

12/1/13 - 12/8/13

12/8/13 - 12/15/13

12/15/13 - 12/22/13

12/22/13 - 12/29/13

12/29/13 - 1/5/14

1/5/14 - 1/12/14

1/12/14 - 1/19/14

1/19/14 - 1/26/14

1/26/14 - 2/2/14

2/2/14 - 2/9/14

2/9/14 - 2/16/14

2/16/14 - 2/23/14

2/23/14 - 3/2/14

3/2/14 - 3/9/14

3/9/14 - 3/16/14

3/16/14 - 3/23/14

3/23/14 - 3/30/14

3/30/14 - 4/6/14

4/6/14 - 4/13/14

4/13/14 - 4/20/14

4/20/14 - 4/27/14

4/27/14 - 5/4/14

5/4/14 - 5/11/14

5/11/14 - 5/18/14

5/18/14 - 5/25/14

5/25/14 - 6/1/14

6/1/14 - 6/8/14

6/8/14 - 6/15/14

6/15/14 - 6/22/14

6/22/14 - 6/29/14

6/29/14 - 7/6/14

7/6/14 - 7/13/14

7/13/14 - 7/20/14

7/20/14 - 7/27/14

7/27/14 - 8/3/14

8/3/14 - 8/10/14

8/10/14 - 8/17/14

8/17/14 - 8/24/14

8/24/14 - 8/31/14

8/31/14 - 9/7/14

9/7/14 - 9/14/14

9/14/14 - 9/21/14

9/21/14 - 9/28/14

9/28/14 - 10/5/14

10/5/14 - 10/12/14

10/12/14 - 10/19/14

10/19/14 - 10/26/14

10/26/14 - 11/2/14

11/2/14 - 11/9/14

11/9/14 - 11/16/14

11/16/14 - 11/23/14

11/23/14 - 11/30/14

11/30/14 - 12/7/14

12/7/14 - 12/14/14

12/14/14 - 12/21/14

12/21/14 - 12/28/14

12/28/14 - 1/4/15

1/4/15 - 1/11/15

1/11/15 - 1/18/15

1/18/15 - 1/25/15

1/25/15 - 2/1/15

2/1/15 - 2/8/15

2/8/15 - 2/15/15

2/15/15 - 2/22/15

2/22/15 - 3/1/15

3/1/15 - 3/8/15

3/8/15 - 3/15/15

3/15/15 - 3/22/15

3/22/15 - 3/29/15

3/29/15 - 4/5/15

4/5/15 - 4/12/15

4/12/15 - 4/19/15

4/19/15 - 4/26/15

4/26/15 - 5/3/15

5/3/15 - 5/10/15

5/10/15 - 5/17/15

5/17/15 - 5/24/15

5/24/15 - 5/31/15

5/31/15 - 6/7/15

6/7/15 - 6/14/15

6/14/15 - 6/21/15

6/21/15 - 6/28/15

6/28/15 - 7/5/15

7/5/15 - 7/12/15

7/12/15 - 7/19/15

7/19/15 - 7/26/15

7/26/15 - 8/2/15

8/2/15 - 8/9/15

8/9/15 - 8/16/15

8/16/15 - 8/23/15

8/23/15 - 8/30/15

8/30/15 - 9/6/15

9/6/15 - 9/13/15

9/13/15 - 9/20/15

9/20/15 - 9/27/15

9/27/15 - 10/4/15

10/4/15 - 10/11/15

10/18/15 - 10/25/15

10/25/15 - 11/1/15

11/1/15 - 11/8/15

11/8/15 - 11/15/15

11/15/15 - 11/22/15

11/22/15 - 11/29/15

11/29/15 - 12/6/15

12/6/15 - 12/13/15

12/13/15 - 12/20/15

12/20/15 - 12/27/15

12/27/15 - 1/3/16

1/3/16 - 1/10/16

1/10/16 - 1/17/16

1/31/16 - 2/7/16

2/7/16 - 2/14/16

2/14/16 - 2/21/16

2/21/16 - 2/28/16

2/28/16 - 3/6/16

3/6/16 - 3/13/16

3/13/16 - 3/20/16

3/20/16 - 3/27/16

3/27/16 - 4/3/16

4/3/16 - 4/10/16

4/10/16 - 4/17/16

4/17/16 - 4/24/16

4/24/16 - 5/1/16

5/1/16 - 5/8/16

5/8/16 - 5/15/16

5/15/16 - 5/22/16

5/22/16 - 5/29/16

5/29/16 - 6/5/16

6/5/16 - 6/12/16

6/12/16 - 6/19/16

6/19/16 - 6/26/16

6/26/16 - 7/3/16

7/3/16 - 7/10/16

7/10/16 - 7/17/16

7/17/16 - 7/24/16

7/24/16 - 7/31/16

7/31/16 - 8/7/16

8/7/16 - 8/14/16

8/14/16 - 8/21/16

8/21/16 - 8/28/16

8/28/16 - 9/4/16

9/4/16 - 9/11/16

9/11/16 - 9/18/16

9/18/16 - 9/25/16

9/25/16 - 10/2/16

10/2/16 - 10/9/16

10/9/16 - 10/16/16

10/16/16 - 10/23/16

10/23/16 - 10/30/16

10/30/16 - 11/6/16

11/6/16 - 11/13/16

11/13/16 - 11/20/16

11/20/16 - 11/27/16

11/27/16 - 12/4/16

12/4/16 - 12/11/16

12/11/16 - 12/18/16

12/18/16 - 12/25/16

12/25/16 - 1/1/17

1/1/17 - 1/8/17

1/8/17 - 1/15/17

1/15/17 - 1/22/17

1/22/17 - 1/29/17

1/29/17 - 2/5/17

2/5/17 - 2/12/17

2/12/17 - 2/19/17

2/19/17 - 2/26/17

2/26/17 - 3/5/17

3/5/17 - 3/12/17

3/12/17 - 3/19/17

3/19/17 - 3/26/17

3/26/17 - 4/2/17

4/2/17 - 4/9/17

4/9/17 - 4/16/17

4/16/17 - 4/23/17

4/23/17 - 4/30/17

4/30/17 - 5/7/17

5/7/17 - 5/14/17

5/14/17 - 5/21/17

5/21/17 - 5/28/17

5/28/17 - 6/4/17

6/4/17 - 6/11/17

6/11/17 - 6/18/17

6/18/17 - 6/25/17