Category: To whom it may concern

Stirring up trouble

Hey dudes.

Do you want to know what is the absolute worst thing ever? Like, in the world?

I’ll tell you what: FIRE ALARM TESTING.

Yeah, I’m about two shrill shrieks away from a murderous rampage to end all murderous rampages.

Not to mention the fact that my poor cat is utterly traumatized.

At first, when it started this morning, she was all, “MOM! WHY!?”:

And as the day progressed, she morphed into a fragile shell of her former amazon-Dorne self, until I found her like this in our upstairs office:

The poor thing had eyes as big as saucers.

Urg. It’s now 5:08pm and THEY ARE STILL TESTING THE DARN THINGS.

If these bastards aren’t finished soon, I’m going to take a dump in their boot and cut the brake lines in their van. Don’t think I won’t do it!!!

WOAH.

Erm.

Okay. That was too much. Dial it back there Eth, you’ve gone too far.

Sorry folks, I don’t know what got over me there.

But seriously, my head is pounding, my ears are ringing – even my heartbeat seems all off.

In short, I feel like utter rubbish, and I look like it too.

(But not smell. I smell like vanilla deliciousness.)

About an hour ago, peering at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, I instinctively recoiled.

“FIE! AWAY FOUL BEAST AND DIE!” I shouted (because as you know, I live in a Shakespeare play.)

Either way, things were circling the drain, AND QUICK. So what did I do to combat this malaise? This lethargy of the soul, and hideousness of the face?

I did what any (semi) sane vegetarian would do.

I made a vegetable stirfy.

Pics or it didn’t happen you say?

GOOD THING I BROUGHT THE BIG GUNS. Let’s dive in, shall we?

 

Eat some carrot pieces if you so wish. I often do.

Don’t forget the onion!

Or the garlic for that matter.

Preeeeety colours.

Add the eggplant early because it takes the longest to cook.

Muuuuushroooooooms.

Definitely take time to be a weirdo.

Sgt. Peppers

Why I’m so strong.

So saucy!

The final product.

Dig in!

p.s. I have a secret. I want to tell you all, but I must keep it safe until the time is right. FRODO BAGGINS!

Yep. Officially mad.

Stop skirting the issue here

Hi Kids! Friday fry-up time.

A can of spam.

Yesterday I received what has to be the funniest spam comment in the history of spam comments.

It reads:

When I think back on all the blessings I have been given in my life, I can’t think of a single one, unless you count that rattlesnake that granted me all those wishes.

What the WHAT?

Talk about pure comedy gold.

Who are you, person who left this comment? Please introduce yourself to the group so we can all give you the round of applause you so dearly deserve. And I truly believe that it was a person, and not a spambot, what with it being a complete, coherent (if odd) sentence and all. (It’s also written in English and not Polish or Russian. Do you many of you peeps get a lot of multi-lingual spam? Because goodness knows, I get a TON.)

All I have to go on is the user name Silver Price and some sketchy e-mail address. So if you are reading this Monsieur Spammer, please step forward I just wish to tip my hat in your direction and let you know that your note will keep me laughing for ages.

AGES!

A close second goes to this comment which also deserves an honourable mention:

Sod costs more; however, it comes mature and ready to lay but prior to that you must prepare the area properly, and that takes time and dedication. If you have a fireplace, inside or outside, or a grill, you can pick up the fallen tree branches and cut them up for use in your fireplace or grill. Fixing your lawn can cost some money depending on how damaged it is. This list of foes continues nevertheless the absolute goal in the game remains to be the same.

BRILLIANT.

Next!

Mini-Me.

So. I recently went and tried on this mini-skirt but couldn’t bring myself to buy it despite the fact that I loved it.

It’s like a flapper skirt! Only fluffier!

KEEEEEY-UTE!

Sigh.

I have this love-fear relationship with mini-skirts. I adore them, but I have crippling anxiety when it comes to wearing them – I tend to, shall we say, over think the whole thing.

Am I showing too much leg? Do I need tights? Why am I so pale? How do I have so many veins? Why are my body proportions so out of whack?

WHY AM I EVEN THINKING ABOUT ALL OF THIS IN THE FIRST PLACE?

Good grief – this is exhausting!

This whole thing is weird. I mean, for the longest time (for most of my undergrad actually) I never even wore pants – hey don’t get the wrong idea here – and instead only ever donned skirts (of all lengths and styles – and believe you me, I rocked quite a few minis during this time.)

And it’s crazy to think that now that I am healthy (and oh-so much happier) I have all these awful hang-ups when it comes to this one article of clothing that I actually really like.

(I debated like crazy if I even wanted to post that one picture.)

I just wish that I could get over all of this crap and just move on. No more body issues, no more trepidation over what people will think or not think – just take the plunge and do it. Wear it with tights, wear it without tights – WHO CARES.

Just wear it.

So I’m working on it.

Viva forever.

For some reason I have never gotten over a memory I have of this YM magazine article I read when I was in grade five.

The Spice Girls were on the cover, and in their interview, Posh Spice said that she never wore both eye make-up and lipstick at the same time, less she come across as overdone (I’m not sure how often she or the other girls actually followed this model, but I digress).

Now somehow this rule of thumb has stuck with me for the past sixteen years. For real, to this day, I never, ever wear any eye make-up when I rock a strong lip, and seeing as though that is most days – well, I rarely break out anything stronger than a simple mascara (if that.)

I would never have thought Victoria Beckham would play such a small, but pivotal role in my life.

Huh.

Zigazigah is right.

…

Have a brilliant weekend you beauty cats! Do what you want – wear what you want – find that rattlesnake – and then tell me all about it.

I’m losing it

Hey kids.

Today I am bummed out. You see, yesterday, sometime betwixt the hours of two and seven, some crafty bastard stole my wallet.

DAMN YOU CRAFTY BASTARD!

Sigh.

This – this gives me a major sad. Like, the biggest.

So the majority of today was spent stressing over the fact that someone was sure to steal my identification, ruin my credit score, apply for EI in my name, and sign me up for membership in the CPC – THE HORROR!

As such, I spent a significant amount of time on the blower with Visa to cancel my credit card, waiting in line at ICBC to get a new driver’s license, shooting the breeze with Service Canada, getting a new debit card, applying for a replacement for my CareCard, etc, etc.

Urg. This kind of thing really, really stresses me out.

And as such, I take it as a good time to beat the ever living crap out of myself.

Seriously, just crown me Miss Flagellation 2012 and call it a day. I’ve earned the title.

It goes a little something like this:

First, I cry. Huge, heaving sobs wrack my body like some 18th century Victorian palsy. Once I’m sufficiently exhausted, my skin is consumed by a clammy, cold sweat, while the last of my fat teardrops slide down my cheeks and off of my chin.

Then I spaz.

I pace. I rant.

I blame myself for not taking better care of my stuff. I berate myself for not being careful enough; I chalk it up to bad karma for not buying the homeless newsletter, or for laughing at all those blooper videos on Youtube.

Then I start to make up armageddon scenarios in my head, and play them over and over again – for both M’s and my pleasure.

Repeat.

Of course all of this drives my poor husband up the wall (nay up all the walls.) He is already so busy with work that his threshold for my ravings is rather limited, particularly those that are only precariously balanced in reality (and that too may be up for debate.)

I am so lucky to have him in these silly (but very real for me) times of crisis.

He is the calm to my storm.

He talks me down from the ledge, and has a really brilliant way of not only helping me laugh at myself, but also being kinder to myself.

This is a great thing.

And the good news? None of my cards were used, nothing was stolen (other than my lovely little wallet that I loved.) I don’t ever carry cash, and everything is replaceable.

So while I am still bummed out, I’m working on taking it easy. And it’s getting easier.

Today I was going to write about mini-skirts.

I’ll save that post for tomorrow.

However here is a slight teaser for something that makes me less bummed out, and well, very, very happy:

So remember – same bat time, same bat channel! And keep your eyes peeled – this be bat country.

Let’s give them something to talk about

It’s Friday friends! Put on your smoking jacket, pour yourself a snifter of brandy, and take a load off. Today’s fry-up will take care of the rest.

Dancing queen.

DUDES.

Do you have gangnam style?

I DO.

No joke, I love this song so much it is destroying my life. Because you see, while I cannot STOP listening to it, I also cannot JUST listen to it.

Oh no.

Whenever I hear the blasted tune I must, MUST boogie down for all of my life.

A couple of days ago I actually tried to make a video of just me dancing to the song, but then I scared the crap out of my cat during the first take and then on the second realized I looked CRAZY breaking it down.

So no video folks.

JUST KIDDING – I would never do that to you! Here it is:

So now you can take my word for it when I say that I am a dance maniac and no one can stop me.

NO ONE.

Further proof:  when I was in Russia partying my wretched vodka infused-butt off until 5 in the morning every night, I had a Russian chick come up to me and ask me: “Excuse me, but – where from?” “Ya Canadka,” I responded. “Potomu?” (Why?) “Ohhhhhh,” she replied back. [motions to my dancing] “VEEERRRY interesting!”

And I thought her country men and women were the craziest dancers I had ever seen!

So yeah. MANIAC.

Fall is here. Ring the bell.

Autumn is nipping at our heels here on the West coast of Canada. And it sure is lovely.

Last night the sun was a ball of flaming red fire, and the sky was a melting mixture of pinks, oranges, and yellows – like a solar Shirley Temple for the thirsty space traveller.

Because the weather in the morning has taken a turn for the cooler side of things, I was forced to call my bluff and finally go and buy some tights.

In the process, I picked up some other fall must-haves, including these sweet, sweet kicks:

Joe Fresh baby – it is a truly wacky (said in the voice of Michael Kors) store at its worst, but goodness knows if it doesn’t know how to score me a deal at the best of times.

I am also crunching fallen leaves like a loon – going out of my way to get every last one of them. A man walking to skytrain a few paces behind me this morning actually burst out laughing after watching my manic trajectory down the sidewalk.

But hey, JUDGE NOT RIGHT?

There are worse things I could be doing than stepping on crinkle-cut leaves.

Goodness knows.

Clean eating, clean living.

I have cut out all processed foods from my diet, and most grains and sugars.

Urg, I feel like such a broom admitting that for the next eight weeks I will be paleo-ing it (with the best of all the other paleo brooms) but alas, it is the case.

So remember – NO JUDGING.

Now, I must stress, this isn’t anything to do with losing weight.

This is an attempt to regulate my (pretty well documented) sugar addiction, and I figure it’s a pretty good way of making sure I cut out all junk food from my diet.

Now, the paleo diet traditionally means no grains; however, because I am running a half-marathon on the 30th of this month, there is no way I can do this, as that would be ridiculous and foolhardy. So instead, I am eating less than what I would regularly consume, and then will cut them out completely once I am finished the race.

So far I have completed four days and I am surprised at just how easily it has been. No chocolate. No candy. No chips. No brake-down.

What’s even better is I have been cooking up a storm, and I am so, SO excited about coming home and preparing amazing meals. This, along with curbing my sugar intake, is definitely the best result so far of the program.

So bring on the next fifty-six days – I WILL OWN YOU ALL.

…

What’s shaking in your neck of the woods lately? Let’s dance and you can tell me all about it.

Things I think about when I run

Do you talk to yourself when you exercise?

Because goodness knows I do.

These are the things I thought about over the course of my 6km training run:

Holy frick, I FEEL AMAZING.

My strides are suuuuper. Suuuuper strides.

Hmmm. If I have a particularly saucy dream about someone, could they possibly be having the same dream? URG, stop thinking about this at once.

Okay. How do people go down staircases two steps at a time and not kill themselves?

I don’t actually like pesto as much as I think I do. It’s just SO oily.

I wonder why I also put that extra “s” into obsessive. It’s rather an obsession. OMG I AM SO WITTY.

Stop that.

I am going to cook the crap out of dinner tonight.

Man, what is UP with Canadian politics at the moment? And is Justin Trudeau really going to run for Liberal leadership? He could call his campaign “Just In Time.” And play that album by Justin Timberlake.

Actually, that will probably guarantee his total defeat at the polls.

Don’t do that Justin.

This route is so beautiful and the weather is pretty much perfect. Even if it’s getting cooler every day. The sunrise this morning was so striking it took my breath away.

Not enough people take the time to pause and just let this beauty pour over them. Through them.

Okay Hallmark, get a grip.

Good grief – that lady is just out smoking her joint! And she’s totally, totally a proper OLD. Between her and the dude outside of Douglas College, my day has been chock-a-block full of smoker sightings.

So, like, do people just smoke weed out in the open these days? Is this a thing now?

If I was forced to take a drug test at the end of this run I would have to claim a Ross Rebagliati .

What ever happened to that guy?

Also, someone really needs to bankroll my entirely new wardrobe from Club Monaco.

Jeeze, does anyone even like Banana Republic? AND SERIOUSLY I HATE THEIR NAME SO MUCH – WHY DOESN’T ANYONE EVER TALK ABOUT THIS? I am going to open a competitor clothier and call it “Uneven economic development and social stratification R US”

That may require an acronym.

Oh yeah baby, not even breaking a sweat! Do it do it do it.

That outhouse should probably be cleaned.

Darn it. M has strata tonight which means an empty house for most of the evening.

On the plus side ALL THE DROP DEAD DIVA IS BELONG TO ME.

I own quite a few dresses. I really am going to do that project where I wear all of them and take photos in the exact same post with the exact same backdrop because of course everyone wants to see that.

Mostly I just want to wear all the pretty dresses.

I will call the project “Playing Dress-Up” OR OR OR “Dressing on the Side.”

Hah, I AM witty.

Get out of here.

NO I’M WISE.

Looklooklook that that dog it is wearing a sweater! With little ears on the hood! CUTECUTECUTE. Thooouuggghh…he probably hates his life.

Yep, in total agony fo sho.

K, that driver totally didn’t stop for me at the crosswalk. I hope he gets crabs in the bath.

Too much?

Either way – HOME.

Should I stretch?

Do you ever?

Touché, good lady. Touché. 

Fin.