Rant and Roll

I make so many beginnings, there never will be an end

Hey duders.

It’s a chilly, misty evening out here on the west coast of Canada, and I am wrapped in a blanket, tap-tap-tapping away at my keyboard like some kind of tapping thing.

Thank goodness that it’s Friday.

Even though it has been a short week, I am feeling the strain of everything that has been going on of late, and I still don’t think that I’ve fully recovered from three days of zero sleep, thanks to the snoring dogs of death.

OF DEATH!!!

On the plus side, I have booked three more stand-up shows, and have signed up to compete in a comedy contest starting at the end of March.

I am also hosting the Storytelling Show this weekend on Vancouver Coop Radio, and will be interviewing two ladies who are members of the city’s burlesque community. It should be a really interesting, really great chat!

In the meantime, it’s business as usual here at the home front. I’m trying to make sure that I’m getting some longer runs under my belt in the lead up to the Sunshine Coast half marathon. It’s can be really hard to get out there (and stay out there!) when the weather is such rubbish, but last weekend I did manage to run twenty-two kilometers, so I’m hopeful that I will ramp up my distance, slowly but surely.

I shall keep you posted on my progress. Also, have any of you purchased running shoes over the internet? I am in need of some new shoes, and am thinking of ordering them online.

Do let me know. And in the interim, how’s about a fry-up?

Oh I think so.

It’s in the bag.

Look at what I bought!

I’ve had my eye on this leather doctor’s bag FOREVER. And I think these little flats are just the bee’s knees. So you can imagine how stoked I am to have them in my possession.

BUT – this purchase (which, on its own is darn fab) isn’t all that I have to report.

Oh no.

First of all, it should be noted that I nearly passed out from disbelief when I paid for these items.

This is because, (drum roll) the purse was originally $150.00 marked down to $10.00 (!!!) and the shoes, once priced at $29.00, I procured for $4.00.

HOW – !

WHAT – !

WHY – !

I PAID $16.71 FOR ALMOST TWO HUNDRED DOLLARS WORTH OF MERCHANDISE!!!

Now, bless my little frugal heart, I really still cannot believe it.

Sweet mother of pearl do I ever love me some Joe Fresh.

Now if you excuse me, I’ll be taking this bag and making my rounds.

Sweet cuppin’ cakes.

For Valentine’s Day, Mr. M and I woke at the crack of dawn (like every other work day) and exchanged the cards we had for each other (not quite the same as every other work day.)

He also bought us these awesome cupcakes to snack on post-dinner:

We ate these bad boys as we slurped down some amazing Earl Grey tea, and worked through last weekend’s New York Times Saturday crossword.

(Otherwise known as pure V-Day bliss.)

Sister dear.

I was at Starbucks last night with my little sister study buddy, when low and behold, who was to come on the radio?

That brilliant relic of the 90s – MORCHEEBA!

Holy smokes. Remember this song?

Anywho, listening to this rad tune got me thinking about my brilliant big sister. She was the one who introduced me to this band (as she did with so many other musical greats – seriously, I will never, ever forget listening to Weezer’s Blue album on repeat my entire grade seven year) and it just got me thinking about all the amazing times the two of us have had together, either adventuring about on late night quests, or just hanging around cackling over old Kids in the Hall episodes.

Kate is pretty much one of the coolest, craziest, smartest, most dedicated, brave, and fearless women you will ever get the chance to meet.

I may (slightly) tower over her, but goodness knows if she isn’t my consummate protector in life.

I also cannot tell you how many times this gal has talked me down from an all-consuming panic attack. I definitely would have not made it through my undergraduate days without her.

What a brilliant, brilliant lass.

…

So there you have it my sweets!

A very merry (belated) Valentine’s to you all.

I hope you all had a chance to celebrate the wonderful people who fill your days with light and love.

And maybe eat a cupcake (or two.)

I have an issue to ‘a dress’

Remember ladies –

NOTHING IS MORE IMPORTANT THAN YOUR WEDDING.

Seriously.

You can work hard at your job, your academics, your athletic endeavours; you can scale mountains, or travel all across the globe; you can learn foreign languages, form amazing friendships, hide out in the woods, or start a billion dollar company; you can cook brilliant meals, and read all the books, watch all the movies, or write all the plays.

But none of that matters.

Nor do any of these things even come close to the importance of finding a man who will eventually ask you to marry him.

Because if a man doesn’t ask you to spend the rest of your life with him, that means you will never be able to make YOUR MOST IMPORTANT FASHION PURCHASE OF YOUR LIFE.

Which, of course, is your WEDDING DRESS.

Not that amazing suit you scrimped and saved up for, in the lead up to your biggest and most important job interview.

Not that amazing pair of shoes you waited forever to go on sale and snatched them the moment you could afford them, because they make you feel like a superhero when you wear them.

Not that concert t-shirt you bought in grade nine and then proceeded to wear every day for a year, because that event, up until that point, was the most seminal music experience of your life.

Not the dress you bought for your grandfather’s funeral, or the pair of runners you bought for your first big road race, or those yoga pants that make you feel invincible, or those sunglasses that make you look like an international spy.

Not that amazing sports bra that you adamantly wash by hand because you fear it wearing out, or that ten dollar sundress you wore all last summer because you will never find anything so cute and comfortable for the rest of your days.

None of these things matter.

What a second –

*looks around*

IS THIS 2013 OR WHAT?

How are we still dealing with this crazy bullshit?

A woman’s wedding dress is not the most important fashion purchase of her life.

Not unless a masked killer is actually holding a gun to her head yelling “IMMA MURDER YOU UNLESS YOU PURCHASE A WEDDING DRESS!!!!”

Then, I am willing to agree that it was a pretty important buy.

But only then!

And this is coming from a married woman. Who loved both her dress, and her wedding.

Not to mention that I LOVE love. Like, a lot.

And I am all for people coming together to support, celebrate, and embrace this part of life.

But this whole conceit, this long-standing mythology that a wedding is somehow day NUMERO UNO for all the LAIDEEZ makes me want to rip all the hair from my head.

What kind of message do you think this is sending to little girls? And little boys?

Could you imagine a piece on a man’s “most important fashion purchase”?

The idea is so far-fetched I am having a hard time even imaging what it could possibly be.

But goodness knows, it sure is easy to promote the age old trope of the overarching, MEGA HUGE importance of a wedding dress. I mean, if it wasn’t, why the heck would we still be publishing utter crap, like the above photographed article?

Which is basically can be summed up in the following equation: WOMAN+WEDDING = LIFE GOAL – ACHIEVED!

Urg.

Of course, this is not me saying that women should not love their wedding dresses.

Oh no.

I’m just saying that it’s imperative for us to remember that: ALL WOMEN = so much more than an “I DO.”

Ya know what I mean?

Or should I be saying –

Do you?

The more you know

*First things first – the show on Friday was amazing, and I couldn’t be happier with how it went. The headliner was brilliant and very complimentary after I performed, encouraging me to continue comedy and he let me know he was impressed that I had only been doing stand-up for a short time. I was also invited to perform at a local venue by another performer, which is rad.

Right after the show, M and I drove to our friends’ house as we had to dog sit for them all weekend, and only now have arrived home after a bonkers weekend of animals and activity.

So in lieu of anything even remotely sane, I present to you dear readers:

TWENTY QUESTIONS.

Did you know that a Boston terrier can snore louder than a steam powered locomotive?

Did you know that three nights of little to no sleep due to said snoring can leave a person positively knackered?

Did you know that sometimes a run in the pea-soup mist can do wonders to revive your spirits?

Did you know that doing the exact same run two days later can tire you like no other, which is strange, so you imagine that the second day’s mist was the residual spittle from a dementor’s kiss?

Did you know that stand-up comedy is pretty much crack, only healthier for you?

Did you know that all I want to do is continue to make people laugh for the rest of my life?

Did you know that mint-green dresses are in?

Did you know that I’ve just been told that it’s just “mint-green” that’s in?

Did you know that I purchased a mint-green dress, but because of it’s dodgy length I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to wear it sans-tights?

Did you know that the best yogurt is lemon yogurt?

Did you know that after two days away from my cat I can never figure out who is more excited to see whom?

Did you know that if I had to eat only one kind of food for the rest of my life it would be south-Asian hands down, no contest?

Did you know that my amazing husband bought be a new laptop for my birthday because my current computer sounds like there is a hot tub bubbling away inside its processor?

Did you know that he also bought me The One Hundred Year Old Man Who Climbed Out the Window and I will be reading nothing else this week?

Did you know that I’m also reading the Lost City of Z WHICH IS ABSOLUTELY CRAZY?

Did you know that Victorian adventurers were probably the nuttiest (and sometimes most appallingly racist) people of all time?

Did you know that sometimes I drink chocolate milk by the litre?

Did you know that there is a tumblr called Les Mean Girls, which is a mash up for Mean Girls and Les Mis? And that it is amazing?

Did you know that I adore you all and that as I fall asleep as I type this I want to know random, crazy things about your life and loves?

Did you know – zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz…

Laugh it up! Laugh it up fuzzball!

So.

First things first –

I am ~~internet~~ famous (kind of!)

Just check out this bio on little ol’ me over at the comedy festival’s website.

YAY!

And in the immortal words of Rod Stewart: Tonight’s the night!

(Only, you know, without all the sexual stuff.)

Now, excuse me while I jump up and down like the excitable jumping thing that I am.

Friday Fry-up time!

Well that’s offensive.

I was buying my sister a birthday card the other day in Hallmark when I espied these:

THIS KIND OF CRAP MAKES ME SO ANGRY I WANT TO PUNCH A HOLE IN THE WALL.

First of all, let’s get one thing straight.

Porn is porn is porn.

por·nog·ra·phy /pôrˈnägrəfē/ Noun

Printed or visual material containing the explicit description or display of sexual organs or activity.

This whole idea that women somehow get off on seeing dudes BUY FLOWERS or WIPE A BABY’S BUM is so unbelievably offensive TO BOTH WOMEN AND MEN that it makes me head spin.

Oh yeah…seeing that guy ACT LIKE A HUMAN BEING makes me so hot…I mean, holy crap – a man COOKING!? AND CLEANING TOO?! HOW SEXY IS THAT!?

I need a cold shower just thinking about it!

Like, cuz, those things are normally just for the womenz to do, RIGHT PEEPS?

BARF.

NO.

Just no.

American beauty?

Are you dudes watching House of Cards?

Here are ye olde House of Mad, we are big Netflix connoisseurs and as such we’ve recently started watching this program.

It’s a show that was actually made for Netflix, which is pretty darn cool in and out of itself. I imagine that as viewership of traditional cable continues to drop, more shows will go the way of the live-streaming route.

(Allowing viewers to binge-watch at their leisure.)

Anyway, back to the show. Am I the only person who thinks that Mr. Spacey is a bit of a psychopath? I mean, the dude comes across as creepy as heck.

Also, I never thought I would hate someone as much as Walter White (Breaking Bad), but Francis Underwood is giving him a pretty good run for his money.

And that’s saying quite a bit.

But don’t let that detour you – if you have access to this show do check it out. It’s a pretty good glimpse into how morally bankrupt and incestuous our political systems truly are, not to mention how we’ll probably never know 99.9 per cent of the machinations that take place behind the capital’s closed doors.

Looking at what these horrible (fictional) people do, that gives me one good case of the shivers.

Sister, sister.

Today is my beauty cat of a little sister’s birthday!

She is a firecracker, a butt-kicker, an amazing chef, and a lass who can rock a vintage dress like no other.

I wish so very much that I could be with her today to celebrate this auspicious occasion, but as I cannot, I send her all my biggest and best birthday wishes.

Also, we are very good looking when we hang out together:

Like, the most.

…

So there you have it my darlings!

I will let you all know how the show goes tonight.

And in return, I’d love to hear how everything is going for you all, wherever in the world that may be.

You can’t handle the truth!

Everybody lies.

At least so quoth the ever enigmatic, and exceptionally surly Dr. Gregory House who both angered and titillated thirty million North American television viewers at the height of the program’s popularity.

And he was right. Most people, as much as they would like to admit otherwise, distort the truth in one way or another (sometimes even on a daily basis.)

Why, it’s bloody hard not to. Take the classic example:

A: “Hi!”

B: “Hi!”

A: “How are you?”

B: “Good! How are you?”

A: “Good!”

This exchange is the absolute worst. Not only is it shallow and formulaic, but it actually makes me think that we are preconditioned to not tell the truth.

I mean, when talking about fleeting exchanges (picture you and the other person as two ships in the night), I can pretty much guarantee that neither of you actually wants to know how the other is doing when you ask. It is but a mere formality – an extension of the actual greeting.

In fact, hihowareyoudoing is one pretty much one word, the opener, which is expected under normal greeting circumstances, while finegreatgoodokay is the expected answer, the closer.

End of story.

Both parties may walk away satisfied.

I can totally understand why in some cultures you don’t even bother asking this question unless you are prepared to really find out how that person is – because, really, otherwise what’s the point?

Now, I am willing to concede that there is probably at least one of you out there, shaking your head, thinking to yourself, “I always tell the truth no matter how I’m feeling!”

So dear reader, if you manage to actually (sincerely) articulate how you are doing every time someone asks you, I bow down to you and your amazing resolve.

I would also like to meet you.

And your friends.

(KIDDING!)

As for me?

I’ve been known to tell a few porky pies. And not just about how I was feeling.

I’ve told my husband that I have eaten breakfast when I haven’t, just because he likes to eat right away in the morning and I don’t, and I once told the mother of one of the kids I tutored that I got migraines instead of just outright quitting the job.

(That was one strange kid, believe you me.)

I would watch as these little white lies fluttered out of my mouth, like ivory-winged moths escaping the dark, searching for a light. They would burn up, the farther up they fly, and I wondered, as I watched them disappear, what purpose did they serve?

To answer this question, I once spent a ~~week~~ day trying not to lie.

Which I found to be hard. Very hard.

I was unsuccessful on many fronts. But mostly I was incapable of getting over the hihowareyou hurdle. No matter how hard I tried, goodgood seemed to get away from me without my noticing.

Every time I would have to take back my words and try again. But even then I couldn’t successfully complete the task.

What can I say? I’ve been programmed.

And I’m okay with that.

Because otherwise I like to believe that I lead a fairly transparent, truthful life.

And let me tell you this: when I ask you how all you beauty cats are doing, I mean so with the most sincerity.

63194_10150362839625179_6369553_n — This is me asking you, “HOW ARE YA DOING CHAP?”

And that, I promise, is no lie.