It’s just a cake. It’s just a birthday cake.

Hey kids.

It’s my birthday in two days, and as such I’ve been gifted with some pretty sweet swag from Sephora:


Seriously, all you need to do is purchase one expensive blush there ONE TIME, and two years later they’re still giving you free stuff!

Now that is the kind of relationship I can get behind.

So yes, this Sunday I turn twenty-eight years old, which officially vaults me into the “late-twenties” catagory.

This is fabulous, because it means that my actual age is finally catching up to what I feel to be my “inner age” – a number that I imagine hovers somewhere around seventy-two, give or take a few tubes of Polydent.



Meanwhile, my “outer age” seems to be suffering from a whacked-out case of Benjamin Buttons, as I can’t seem to go anywhere without getting IDed.

Just the other day I was carded at 7-11 while trying to buy a one dollar scratch and win.

(As you can imagine, my life is pretty much a continual stream of glitz and glamour.)

Of course, being me, I didn’t have any ID on me, (because who brings their whole wallet on a late-night jaunt about the neighbourhood?) so I wasn’t able to complete my purchase.


Then I took my can of coke and ran out of the joint laughing like a maniac.

(That didn’t actually happen.)


This weekend, Mr. M and I are going to gussy ourselves up for a fancy-schmancy dinner on Saturday night, and then it’s off to the familial units on Sunday afternoon for more pageantry and more importantly, some sweet, sweet Superbowl action.

(Or as myself and many others have taken to calling it: The SUPERBAUGH.)

To be honest though, I was so super (har har) bummed when Seattle was eliminated (WHY OH WHY DID YOU CALL THAT TIME OUT PETE!?) that I’m a little less than enthused about the two teams competing the finals. However, if I had to pick a team, I’m going for San Fran because I don’t think I have it in my being to actually cheer for Ray Lewis.

I cannot stand that guy.

I’ll have to wait a week to celebrate with friends, as VanComedy Fest is next Friday, but I figure what better time to jam that after some crack-up comedy?

And in the meantime…

Fry-up time!

Sister acts.

So I don’t know if you are all acquainted with the awesome Canadian power due that is Tegan and Sara (they are two sisters from Calgary, Alberta), but if you’re not, you should probably rectify this situation at once.

These gals have been making rad music for years, but their most recent release is much “poppier” than their older records, and being the pop-lover than I am, I really can’t get enough of it.

So if you have a hankering for some mad dancing about your house, please let me recommend the following:

Last weekend I was in full-on cleaning mode and I must have listened to this song well near twenty times.

Plus, this music video is pretty much exactly what I imagined every one of my birthday parties would be, during my years as a permanently love-struck, doe-eyed teenage girl.

(Unfortunately, it never did happen.)



Olive garden.

So the other night I returned home from work to a startlingly cold and very much empty house, what with my husband having to work late, and the temperatures hovering just above zero degree centigrade outside.

My whole neighbourhood was socked in with a low-hanging, thick, wet fog, and just walking home from skytrain had left me feeling well-soaked and completely ravenous.

After taking off my boots and putting on the fireplace, I immediately set about preparing a dinner that would both quell my hunger pains and warm-up my frigid little body.

(I may have taken a few minutes to cuddle with my kitten before commencing dinner preparations.)

The end result was a meal of spaghetti with tomatoes, olives, basil and fresh mozzarella, accompanied by crunchy French bread and a massive mug of earl grey tea (not exactly the most traditional drink, I know, but goodness knows if it wasn’t needed to rejig my sluggish circulation.)


And it was absolutely, blooming glorious.


Part two.

So last week I wrote about Guy Ritchie and how much I liked Lock Stock and Two Smoking Barrels.

Well, I took many of my brilliant readers’ advice and watched Snatch, the quasi-following up to Lock Stock.

There I sat on the couch, with my spaghetti and tea, and there I laughed like a drain to end all drains.

Which is to be said, A LOT.

So thanks to you, beauty cats! Do keep the film recommendations coming – if there’s more laughing to be had, I WILL HAVE IT.

And there you have it you fab chaps! Are any of you celebrating a birthday this weekend?

I will be partying it up with my (day of birth) twin Alexei Kostitsyn.

That Belarusian doesn’t know how lucky he is.

Published by

Vanessa Woznow

Writer, runner, ranter, reader. I write about all things.

18 thoughts on “It’s just a cake. It’s just a birthday cake.”

  1. remember also ROCKENROLLA
    superBaugh! indeed. i wuzz axually skrapbooking (or sumthing) when betty cauld frum floridada (wear she wuzz with her bro’s) at 10+ P.M. to inform me of the Denver disaster. that, and Green Bay (both my kids, most espeshulee after daughter having married one of WISC’s finest, are GB cheezhedz. tho they DON’T do the jocular head-thingy).
    dinner looked good.
    twenny-ate, huh? i almost remembrrrr… I WUZZ STILL IN COLLEGE! (’cause, mostly, i took a 6-year summer vacation after my sophomore year). ah, mesmoreez …

    1. Yes! So looking forward to watching it. :)

      Man, what a game it turned out to be! What shenanigans. Memories indeed! Sometimes I feel like taking a six-year summer vacation. ONE DAY!.

  2. my uni friend (later rookie) looooved tegan & sara. she used to blast them all hours…i for one couldn’t stand their angst baby voiced stylings. however i can concede their music has gotten progressively better. that is one catchy tune. i dig the new sound.

    i also dig tegan’s (sara’s? the one who sings more) haircut. eventually i’ll get back on the short hair train. right now i like my longish hair

    1. It really has, hasn’t it? I wasn’t a fan for a long time, but recently cannot stop listening to them. It’s a bit maddening actually. Also, I think you would look fab as HECK with that hair cut (all your haircuts are really as such) but definitely you would rock that! x

  3. I love RockinRolla, another Guy Ritchie flick.
    That Seattle time out was pure magic. I only watched the last 30 seconds of that game and phew that was brilliant. I couldn’t believe what was happening! I hate the Seahawks (though I like their uniforms), I was oh so glad they lost. I’m super pumped for the SuperBaugh and hopefully the 49ers, my personal favorite team, complete their Quest For Six. Either way it should be a great game.

    1. yea, you ‘n i remember RockN … when previously ethyl & others could name the 2. so, so far, it seems to be a sort of sordid TRILOGY, then. heh …

  4. So sorry I missed sending you birthday wishes!!!! Unfortunately you had to spend it watching Ray Lewis and the Ravens win the Boring Bowl. That spaghetti looks, to borrow one of your favorite words, EPIC. Seriously. I want some.

    Zero degrees anything sounds ridiculous! It’s actually warmed up here a bit. I think today it hit 30 Fahrenheit. Brrrrr… but, better than it has been. So, I guess that’s something.

    Those chicks look very Canadian. I will have to watch it on my iPad and get back to you. Someone around here somehow managed to disconnect the speakers from the computer. I could reconnect them, but I don’t know how. (I know. I know. It’s shameful to admit, but it’s the truth. I’m almost Amish when it comes to these things.)

    Getting carded to buy a scratch-off? Too funny.

    Good luck at with the comedy on Friday night. I’m sure you’ll kill it!!!!

    1. LOL! Seriously Ms. J you GIVE ME ALL THE LAUGHS. I am just sitting here giggling like a mad woman and it is the best. ARGH RAY LEWIS INDEED. What a weird game that was. Totally strange. Also, as some brilliant schmuck on twitter tweeted: If you liked it you should have but a backup generator on it.

      Best. Ever.

      Hahaha, they do look Canadian don’t they? Good grief, has it come to the point that my nationality is just synonymous with awful hipster? That’s it, I’m defecting to Latvia…(but only if they have lax scratch and win laws…)

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