Rant and Roll

Love is all around me

Hi kitty cats!

My lovely man snapped this bonkers photo of me late Saturday night (actually now that I think about it, it was more like early Sunday morning) after returning home from two shindigs with our lovely friends.

I shouted down from upstairs that I needed him to take a photo of my skirt and as I raced downstairs this is what happened:

I kind of love it.

Almost as much as I love this skirt.

Either way, ho hum, pigs bum.

And elsewhere in the cosmic kitchen –

Kitten love.

Fondue festivities.

All the noms were enjoyed in this photo. Oh yes.

Also, in cool news on the comedy front, I was invited to perform at an open mic in Surrey on Sunday night (and I did it! HUZZAH!)

This turned out to be excellent fun times. I brought a rad posse of bad-ass friends to keep me company, as I was a little nervous about being the only girl comic there – as I imagine this position to be one with some inherent loneliness.

I can only imagine how nuts it would have been had I showed up and just proceeded to read some Brothers Karamazov while waiting to do my set.

Actually, I kind of want to do that next time just to see the reaction.

Good grief.

I am also going to be performing at a Pro-Am show on December 20th.

Meep.

So things are happening! Funny things are happening!

In the meantime, I am actually dead alive on my feet after a weekend of madcappery and brilliance.

On Friday night I met up with a fab friend for a post-work drink, and goodness gracious was that ever a laugh and a half.

Seriously dudes, when I say that all the laughs were belong to us, THIS IS NO JOKE.

We also might be clinically insane.

As I rode skytrain home I kept trying to read my book but couldn’t because I just kept giggling like a bloody loon. People were looking at me like I was absolutely mad.

(Not a heck of a lot different from my everyday experience, but hey, at least I’m always enjoying myself, right?)

When I got home M had prepared for us an amazing fondue feast and we gorged ourselves on gruyere before retiring to our newly transformed Christmas den (aka living room) to watch Love Actually and drink scotch (him) and tea (me.)

Don’t think I’ll ever be able to do the scotch thing, but it seems as though Mr. M is turning into el suavo extraordinaire.

Such a total, total, stud.

The rest of the weekend was a whirlwind of parties, runs, cleaning sprees, gift shopping, and catch-up brunches (are there any other kind?)

Goodness I hope not.

What did you all get up to this weekend?

I want to hear all about it.

(And that’s no joke.)

Shine bright like a diamond

Hey you beauty cats.

Holy smokes, today I am le tired.

Last night was stand-up comedy fest 2012 – aka my first time at the microphone in front of buckets and buckets of people – at it was AH-MAZE-ING.

Seriously, it one of the most brilliant nights of my life.

I ended up being the de facto headliner of the evening (as I was the last comic to perform) and I kind of want to say that I killed.

The audience laughed at all the right places (and at some bits that I never really considered all that funny), and even better, they laughed loudly.

I also had a number of other comics approach me after my set and ask me if I had ever done stand-up before (some actually thought I was a performer that my teacher had booked to close off the night).

So fair warning, I’m about two steps away from quitting my life and becoming a professional runner/stand-up comedian (although I should probably remain an amateur because that way I can compete in the stand-up comedy/running Olympics.)

Phew.

Fry-up time!

Shine on you crazy diamond.

So if you’ve been paying attention to any of this year’s holiday fashion trends you would know that sparkles are currently all the rage.

And as such, I feel like a crazed attention deficient hummingbird every time I enter a clothing store.

Everything is shimmering and glittering, and I want to try on each disco-ball inspired piece.

Just yesterday I was at Joe Fresh in hopes of procuring a sparkly skirt (one that I could wear to the myriad of Christmas parties and get togethers I have coming down the pipe over the next month) and I was near blinded by an absolute deluge of sparkle.

Talk about sensory overload.

I did end up purchasing a lovely little number (I am kicking myself for not snapping a photo, but will be sure to take one this weekend) that is absolutely perfect, with just the right amount of glitz and glam.

In the mean time, check out these nails:

Oh baby.

Next!

I’d stop the world and melt with you.

I don’t always cheese on toast.

But when I do, I cheese on toast with two kinds of cheese.

Sharp cheddar. Parmesan.

Oh baby.

Out of a canon.

I spent the summer after my second year of undergrad in Halifax, Nova Scotia.

It’s an absolutely brilliant city and I urge you all to go should you ever get the chance.

One of my jobs was working the front door at a fab little bar/restaurant down at the waterfront, on the nights they had bands or performers playing.

The nub and gist of my position was the more people I could convince to stay and pay cover, the more money I would take home at the end of the night.

Now when I say I loved my job, I am not lying. Above and beyond the fact that I made a crap ton of money (due to my oustanding powers of coercion), I got to listen to amazing music pretty much every night that I worked.

In particular, there was always one musician who – week in and week out – continually knocked my socks off.

Ladies and gents, may I present to you –

Matt Andersen:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=unh4gbcanoI

Most of his stuff is much bluesier, but I cannot tell a lie, I’m digging this foray into the country tunes.

It gets me fired up.

Oh baby.

…

So there you have it you crazy loons.

I will post the link to my stand-up set on Youtube as soon as it is uploaded.

In the mean time, enjoy your weekends, eat some cheese and toast, and be your brilliant, beautiful, bonkers selves.

Because goodness knows, you’re what makes the world go round.

These beautiful words

I am beginning to think that I am the only one alive who still writes in cursive.

Talk about your dying art.

And it makes me sad.

You can wax poetic about the information age all you want, but the fact of the matter is so many individuals (of all ages) just cannot hand-write – either for the life of them, or, well, because they just don’t know how.

(I won’t even get into what this means for spelling and grammar because that is a chestnut for another fire, er – time.)

I can remember being a little girl and wanting so badly to learn how to write in cursive.

As a kid, I was always on the move, and when I wasn’t practicing my times tables in the car on the way to piano – no joke, I can remember reciting my sevens over and over again while trying to memorize all of my scales and arpeggios – I was badgering my mother to teach me how to make my g’s look just like hers.

(My mom makes great, GREAT g’s.)

I finally wore her down and she bought me a booklet that taught me the letters, and gave me the means to practice them over, and over, and over again.

I pretty sure I finished all the worksheets in the space of a week, because once I began to get a feel for the English cursive alphabet, I was hooked.

It was like graphology crack, only for an eight year old.

(Graphology Flintstones crack?)

I loved the beautiful lines, and the dramatic loops; the way my letters ran together, and how the ink didn’t.

Because I was also a dancer, I imagined my words to be a series of steps, intricate and dazzling, but outwardly effortless.

Hand writing always made me feel so very posh. Like I somehow wrote myself into a royal lineage every time I signed my name, or marked down the date at the top of my in-class quizzes and essays.

As I grew up, I could never understand how my classmates steadfastly clung to their printing, unwilling to hand-write at any cost.

It seemed archaic.

And wrong.

I was astounded to find out at university that fellow students would actually print during midterms and finals.

Didn’t that take forever? Wouldn’t that cramp your hand twice as fast?

Why oh why would anyone forsake the promised script? Who were these non-disciples of the cursive way?

The job I had whilst in grad school required me to write a final exam (very top secret stuff here folks) and afterwards my examiner approached me to tell me that out of all forty candidates, I had been the only one to hand-write my answers.

I remain to this day, shocked, appalled, and just a little bit smug.

(Just kidding. I remain only two of those things.)

In terms of my relationship with writing these days, well, my favourite letters remain ‘r’ and ‘m’ – I like the way they feel in my hand and the way they glide away from my pen.

I love writing cards for loved ones, signing my name in wedding guest books, and filling out comment cards at conferences.

I like to think that I leave a little piece of myself every time I write, whenever I write.

And I look forward to being an old woman, sitting at her desk.

Smiling, I will put pen to paper.

And I will remember.

The sound of silence

No words today friends.

There are just no words.

Instead:

Coffee.

Guard cat.

Croissant cat.

Sky.

Pre-party.

Post-dinner.

Mystery.

…

“O God, that I were a man. I would eat his heart in the market-place.” – Beatrice, Much Ado About Nothing (Act IV, Secene i)

These are not the droids you are looking for

Hey chickadees.

Another Friday, another Fry-Up.

The weeks have just been zooming by, and I find it practically impossible to wrap my head around the fact that we are but one sleep away from the first day of Christmas (or the beginning of December, if you will).

Wouldn’t it be lovely to wake up tomorrow to a partridge in a pear tree?

Five golden rings wouldn’t be so bad either.

This week I had my last talk with the United Way Speakers Bureau Series. I spoke at fifteen events over the last month and a half, and overall it was a tremendous experience to present for such a varied group of businesses and organizations.

I truly hope I get to do it again next year.

Meanwhile, we are but six days away (SIX!!!) from stand-up comedy fest 2012. Next Thursday is liftoff (laughter wise) and I am SO EXCITED.

ZOMG.

Dudes.

I’ve been practicing my material like a practicing thing, and in the most random of places too – in the shower, whilst out running, on skytrain – people must think I’m bloody bonkers.

(More so than usual, and that’s definitely saying something.)

My teacher told me that she’s never before met a young lady who talks as much about murder in her set as I do.

Murder and noses and yogurt. (Oh my!)

At least I’m original, right?

Now let’s get cracking.

First on the docket:

A hairy situation.

So remember when I was all: I’M NEVER GOING TO DYE MY HAIR MYSELF EVER AGAIN BECAUSE I ALWAYS END UP LOOKING LIKE I HAVE VITILIGO BLAH BLAH BLAH?

Weeeeell.

It would seem as though someone can never leave well enough alone (or learn her damn lesson.)

You see, recently I noticed that my roots were starting to grow in (grow out?), and I decided that instead of paying someone to touch up what was definitely less than an inch of new hair growth, it would be much easier to just purchase some dye-in-a-box and do it myself.

I went to Shoppers and purchased “Midnight Sky” thinking it would be a great match for my now mostly raven locks.

It’s too bad no one told me that after getting your tresses dyed professionally, your hair can undergo some pretty whacky chemical changes. (Ie. don’t use the box stuff because it won’t change your hair to the colour that you think it will.)

SO NOW I HAVE THESE ROOTS:

Good grief.

I can’t win.

So I’m out coach.

For real this time.

Laugh it up fuzzball.

Look at this computer repair shop!

It’s called Jawa Computers!

This makes me happier than you can ever know.

Santa Baby.

I told Marc that I was going to buy one of these outfits as one of his Christmas presents:

And then I laughed and laughed.

(I’m definitely still laughing.)

My apologies to all the La Senza Christmas-ware aficionados out there, but for me, these getups are just so ridiculous that I have a hard time understanding how they actually exist in real life.

I mean, come on – in what world is this sexy (and not just amazingly hilarious?)

And don’t get me wrong, if laughter really IS the thing that totally lights your fire, than undoubtedly this sexy Santa (sexy Mrs. Claus?) lingerie is a perfect ensemble for you and yours to enjoy.

But for me, if I somehow came into ownership of such a costume, I would just constantly pretend I was in a Billy Mack music video, while walking around making ludicrous and exceptionally tacky puns about quasi-phallic holiday items.

Your candy cane is so big! Come fill up my stocking… (etc. etc.)

And I would laugh and laugh.

…

What about you folks?

What’s going down in your neck of the woods these days?

I want to hear all about it. Happy Friday to you all!