Today M and I are off to the Sunshine Coast with my vater, Sir R-J esquire, the IV.
(Or if you’re into the whole brevity thing – my Dad.)
We’ll be meeting up with M’s parents at the cabin for a day, and then it’s off to Hardy Island where we’ll hike, maybe swim, and (hopefully) see lots and lots of deer (and their babies!)
But in the interim, it’s time for the latest edition of the Friday Fry-up.
So let’s heat up that skillet and get cookin.
Do I have something on my face?
Full disclosure: sometimes I am a HOT MESS. It’s like I have zero control over this fact, and no matter what effort I put in to combat this problem, the worse it just seems to get.
For instance, it’s almost impossible for me to eat pastries (particularly if they are chocolate pastries) and not get half of the thing all over my face.
Don’t even get my started on gooey foodstuffs. Those are just a recipe a and half for disaster.
The worst of it?
I don’t even realize it when these crumbs are stuck and strewn about my skin – like the little evil edible freckles that they are.
Imagine this: the other day at work J was like, “Oh my goodness, what happened to your face?” and I was all “what do you mean?”
So then she motioned toward my face (with an exceptionally pained look on her face), which worried me so I quickly touched my cheek – only to realize that my affliction was nothing more than the remnants of my breakfast: a piece of the sweet, flaky goodness from the Danish I had eaten earlier.
I’m not too sure which emotion won out in the end – relief or embarrassment. (Actually, definitely relief, because goodness knows I don’t embarrass as easily as I probably should, especially when you look at the high level of madness I operate on every single day of my life.)
Last night M and I were at London Drugs picking up some supplies for our trip. At the check-out the cashier asked us, “Do you need any tissues or Tictacs tonight?” and my immediate reaction was, “Why? Do we look like we need tissues and Tictacs?”
I mean, why else would she ask that?
M kindly assured me that she was obviously trying to either up-sell or just get rid of the umpteen million tins of Tictacs and single pack Kleenex that littered her till like some strange toiletry-inspired collage.
This is probably true, but nevertheless I remained suspicious.
This whole part of my life was only further hit home two nights ago.
We were out at the Commodore Ballroom to take in Franz Ferdinand (MY FAV BAND EVVVEEERRR) and it came to my attention pretty early into their set that I had made some pretty poor decisions outfit-wise.
1.) I should have worn my hair up (or at the very least braided it down my back) because at it’s present length (v. v. long) it kept getting stuck in my armspits as I danced.
It was pretty difficult to stop this from happening, because a.) I was having a mad dance party b.) was sweating and c.) was wearing a tank top. It was like a perfect storm of head-hair in armpit entrapment.
2.) I kept dancing out of my shoes. The flats that I had chosen to wear had already been beat to crap so I figured I wouldn’t care in they got ruined in the jigging-for-your-life melee. Unfortunately, because the shoes were operating at such a low capacity at the concert’s outset, it was all downhill from there – and quickly at that. I had to be careful, because with all the other bonkers dancers out there I didn’t want my toes to get turned into carpaccio, nor did I want to step on that slick, sticky beer soaked floor. Because, well, ewwwwww.
3.) I didn’t realize that the skirt I was wearing had so much swing and elasticity to it. Seriously, I spent the entire time worrying about dancing too hard, lest I continue to flash my undies to all the other folks on the dance floor. It was a very real fear that if I jumped too high I’d end up hoola-hooping my skirt around my neck.
Next time – I’ll stick to simple cotton. Because if I’m going to be part of the show, I better-well be getting paid for my part.
Do you, do you wanna, wanna go?
Okay, I definitely want to continue riffing on the Franz Ferdinand theme for a bit.
Seriously dudes, I love this band.
And they are absolutely AMAZING live. They put on incredibly tight shows, and are always entertaining as all get out.
I saw them for the first time in September 2009 at Malkin Bowl – a great outdoor concert venue in Vancouver – and boy did it ever pour with rain all throughout their set.
And it didn’t matter one bit – it was still the most fun I have ever had at a concert.
I have this amazing memory of just dancing my face off (I had picked well in terms of my dance-related garb that night! Plus no chocolate on my face to speak of – BONUS) completely soaked, watching the rain just come down in sheets, lit up by the brilliance of the many stage lights.
This time there was no rain, but it was the same outrageous energy, the same quirky and strange Scottish blokes rocking about the stage, singing songs that no matter how often I listen to them on loop (over and over again) I don’t ever tire of them.
In fact, they are one of those bands (for me) that the more I listen to their tunes, the more I love them.
They are like the Big Lebowski of music – the more I listen/watch them/it, the more I discover new things to love.
And then when you get the chance to go see it live, well, holy Toledo – it just reinforces all of that magic, ten-fold.
I definitely recommend them to every single one of you. Take a listen:
And when you do, I promise, I’ll take you out.