Fashion – Page 5 – Rant and Roll

Ready to rock, ready to roll

Hi Kids!

Happy, happy Friday! I am so excited I could just dance.

(I know this because I have been dancing most of the morning.)

I have been a busy little bee for the last couple of weeks, getting all my big projects and articles completed, so today is mostly just housekeeping – the little odds and ends.

And thank goodness, as there is nothing I want more for my Christmas hols than to be blissfully unplugged, and oh-so relaxed.

I will be a zen master, extraordinaire.

So let’s get the meditation train rolling with a festive and fun Friday Fry-up!

Do it, do it.

Dressed to impress.

So last night I performed at a local pro-am stand-up night, and I got to wear a brand-spanking new outfit.

It. Was. Awesome.

Ch-ch-check it:

I always like to wear fun outfits whenever I am on stage, and boy was I ever excited to debut this little number.

I had spent my lunch break shopping and bopping about the downtown core with my partner in crime Ms. Jen, and when I espied these two pieces my brain near exploded out of the top of my head.

(In a good way – not in a Zeus birthing Athena kind of way, as bad-ass as that was.)

I purchased the shirt from Joe Fresh (fashion mecca #2) and look, look!

Check out the back:

Isn’t it lovely? I can going to wear the absolute heck out of it over the course of the winter break.

The skirt I procured from Club Monaco (my would-be-fashion go-to if I had more disposable cash dollars) and I was completely chuffed to find out that it was majorly marked down, because goodness knows I couldn’t resist its colour or its whimsical cut.

What can I say, I’m a sucker for anything that was meant for twirling.

And this skirt makes you want to twirl forever.

And you know what?

Me and my brilliant get-up totally rocked the house down – talking about crappy Christmas carols, humble-braggers, and beard shampoo.

You know, the works.

Next!

Marshmallow madness.

So it was during our shopping adventure that Jen and I came across this monstrosity:

WHAT IN THE BLOODY HECK IS THIS!?

H&M, I love ya, but seriously, you’ve got some major explaining to do.

Is this what our snuggy culture has come too?

I mean, I’m all for comfort, but I have never, ever driven past a Michelin Tire Store and thought to myself, “Man, I would totally dress like their mascot, it’s just too bad that there’s nothing out there that could help me fulfill this wish!”

Oh!

And another thing!

THIS IS VANCOUVER.

The coldest it ever gets here is maybe minus ten.

Even if it were to get that cold – and it most likely won’t – the city would probably just shut down, so no one would need ever leave their house, let alone struggle their way into a mobile sleeping bag.

Where’s the blinking majesty I ask?

YEESH.

Sing, sing, sing it!

I won’t bore you to death with the Christmas songs I love to loathe (or just plain loathe) – as suffice to say there are many.

(Plus I don’t want to piss anyone off, as I know that there are many out there that hold dear the tunes that make me want to scrap my eyeballs out of their sockets with a rusty socket wrench.)

So I instead, I thought I would share a few of my favourites with you all, in the hope that they too might take up place in your holiday-themed hearts.

First – At Last I’m Ready for Christmas, by Stan Rogers.

I LOVE THIS SONG. It is basically the theme of my life around this time of year.

Second – O Holy Night, by the Barra MacNeils.

Lucy MacNeil will never not bring tears to my eyes.

Third – Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree, by Brenda Lee.

CLASSIC. Nuff said.

…

So there you have it my darlings!

I am bouncing off the walls, and I can only hope that you are too.

Wishing you a weekend of laugher, love, and light!

You all sure do brighten up my life.

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.

Call me home and I will build you a throne

Hi kidlets.

Today my love and I are up on the Sunshine Coast, drinking dark, sugary coffee, sitting in front of the fire.

The bay sits cool, and calm, just outside our window; every so often a duck armada will sail past, marking a course for the next dock or rush.

They call out to one another, “Over here!”

Oh boy, do I really love ducks.

M and I are up here for an extra long weekend, relishing the opportunity to just sit back and breathe, and actually spend some time together.

We’ve both been running about with our hair set on fire, and looking forward, well, the next few months aren’t exactly going to be relaxation central.

So we’re going to revel in this beauty and eat, drink, run, read, laugh, and love.

In the meantime, Fry-up time!

This doesn’t actual seem “cosmopolitan”.

While standing in line at Safeway the other night, waiting to pay for my raspberries, eggs, mint chocolate ice cream bars, granny smith apples, and unsalted butter (aka THE STAPLES), I came across this:

Oh Cosmo.

Champion that it is of the high-brow (not to mention safe haven for intellectually rigorous prose), it never, ever fails to surprise me with the depths of depravity (and inanity) in which it is willing to sink.

And don’t even get me started on the people who buy this shite, because if I do I will spend the next half hour alternating between banging my head against the wall and falling to my knees shouting WHHHHHYYYYY?

Instead, let’s have some fun shall we?

For instance, what are some alternate answers to the question:

“So you ate a cupcake?”

Are you allergic to cupcakes?! If yes, you should probably go to the hospital!

Was it chocolate or vanilla? WAS IT MARBLED? Never trust a marbled cupcake.

Did it fall on the floor first? Remember the five second rule. Longer than five seconds and I’ll have to eat it.

How do you feel about being a cupcake murderer?

Is it weird that one of the first things that pops into my head when I hear cupcake is Katy Perry’s boobs?

I hate Katy Perry.

Cupcake in French is petit gâteaux, which in terms of a french word is lame as heck.

Would you like another one before we start the self-flagellation? Self-flagellation starts in five.

And finally: Who bloody very well cares? YEESH.

EAT ALL THE CUPCAKES.

GO FOR ALL THE RUNS.

But seriously, don’t beat yourself up over one stupid pastry.

It totally defeats the purpose, because after all, cupcakes are made from happiness.

They should make you happy.

p.s. My tips for hot late night sex? Sleep all day first.

Stripes and waves.

I bought a few pretty pretties this week:

The skirt is from H&M and the sweater is from Joe Fresh.

I am massively in love with the skirt because it looks like it is made up of little white-capped waves. I wore it to work yesterday with a black turtle next, grey tights and little black boots.

Basically, I was a superhero.

Also, I probably should have just bought one of these sweaters in each available colour because goodness knows I had a hard time deciding which one to purchase.

Stripes are always the best.

What can I saw, I love me some old-timey jail bird chic.

East meets west.

Seeing as though we’re away for a couple of days I thought it best to bring a back-up book just in case I finish the one I am currently working on.

I started Wolf Hall a lifetime ago, and although I really liked it, somehow it fell by the wayside and I didn’t make it past the half-way point.

Now I’m back, knee deep in Tudor gossip and intrigue.

If I do in fact finish this tome, I have brought some Dostoevsky to satisfy my literary urges.

I had my first real Russian love affair with Mr. Fyodor when I was in first-year of uni. Somehow I’ve managed to read most of his bibliography, save for this work, so I look forward to finally cracking it open.

There is something about his mastery of the macabre that just delights me to no end.

This could of course say more about my deranged psyche than his fantastical wordplay, but I’m one to stay positive.

(Unlike, of course, Mr. D.)

…

So there you have it folks.

I wish you a weekend filled with good books, delicious food, crackling fires, wind-swept walks, and all the laughs your abdominal muscles can take.

And have a cupcake or two – on me.

Rain, rain, go away

So we meet again.

I’ll get you next time gadget!

Erm, I mean, happy Friday folks!

First I would like to send a giant hug to all of you who live on the east coast.

I hope you are all safe and sound and have escaped Sandy’s clutches with minimal damage.

Mother Nature’s wrath is most muted here out west; although the weather is absolute rubbish, we are lucky enough to be dealing with nothing more than a tepid drizzle (so constant you’d think that our city was built smack dab in the middle of the world’s most anemic waterfall.)

But really, ho-hum, pigs bum, it’s all one.

So this Fry-Up is dedicated to all you who call the sweet sights of the Atlantic Ocean home (especially my beautiful big sister who rode out the storm in her Brooklyn flat. Love you sweet K with all my heart!)

Double rainbow.

Sometimes I wear an outfit that is made up of so many colours that it looks as though Picasso painted me.

I always become so much more aware of my multi-hued clothing as we enter the winter months, as it seems that all the other individuals who work downtown dress in progressively grayer and grayer tones.

This is not a good idea folks.

My rule of thumb is never dress the same colour as the weather. That’s just too depressing for your own good.

Today the women handing out the free newspapers at skytrain nearly flipped their wigs when I showed up in my poppy coat and fuchsia skirt.

“Oooooooeeeerrrr,” one exclaimed. “Look at all your colours!”

“That’s one way to keep your spirits bright!” The other laughed.

I cannot argue with this statement.

Plus, wearing an outfit that pretty much pulsates colour makes it incredibly difficult for cars to miss you when crossing the street.

Because it’s all well and good to look like the work of a Spanish cubist – but as my parent’s would always say: safety first kids!

Safety first.

Next!

Sweet tooth.

So, on Monday night I ventured out for some fab pub trivia, with some equally rad folks.

(Spoiler alert: we won! Taking Care of Quizness – the team’s name – really was taking care of quizness. Also, I may or may not be a good luck charm, as every time I’ve gone the team has emerged triumphant, either richer – in both money and spirit – or stocked with free booze.)

Now, given that I live in New Westminster, and the trivia was in the very heart of Kitstilano (a very posh, very yuppie neighbourhood of Vancity – enter at your own risk, lest you succumb to the clutches of Starbucks, Lululemon, and overpriced baby paraphernalia) it’s pretty necessary for me to drive, unless for some strange reason I feel like subjecting myself to a good hour and half of late night bus riding, post-game.

(For what it’s worth, I haven’t yet had any desire to pursue this experience.)

Anywho, what I’m trying to say here is that I drove to the pub.

As I was motoring into the city, I took the opportunity to absolutely blast the kind of music I don’t normally listen to when other people are in the car with me (as it would seem as though my loved ones are much more discerning when it comes to their musical tastes.)

When I’m all alone, on my own?

I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again: I blast the absolute crap out of the cheesiest, most inane pop you could ever think of.

For instance, I managed to listen to this song three times driving to and from the pub:

And as I was chair dancing like a chair dancing thing, I began to mull over why it is exactly that I love this stuff so much, and how is this representative of my life overall.

In both music and food I have a penchant for syrupy sweet junk.

As much as I love healthy food and good (or whatever my be the musical equivalent to “healthy”) music, I really, really like crap.

I mean, life is all about balance right? And as long as I remember this, I’ll probably be okay.

Plus, I probably couldn’t stop if I tried.

(And I probably won’t try.)

English Breakfast.

I’ve written a few times before on ye olde Rant and Roll about how I am a bit of an anglophile – ie. there are many, many things about British pop culture that I love.

For instance, almost every concert I have attended over the past ten years have been bands from the UK, most of my favourite TV shows originally aired on (or continue to air on) the BBC, and I’d wager a fair guess that the majority of the dudes I’ve gotten all shirty over for, oh, I don’t know, my entire life, were born “across the pond” (in the parlance of our times.)

M and I just started watching Life on Mars on Netflix. We’ve only seen a few episodes, but so far I’m really enjoying the series.

If you haven’t seen it, the premise is that Sam Tyler – a policeman working in Manchester – is hit by a car in 2006 and wakes up in 1973. We don’t know if he’s in a coma and is dreaming everything, or if he’s actually been transported back in time.

The show is funny and witty and infuriating and has some of the best tunes I’ve heard on a television program in a long time.

If you have a chance, check it out.

If anything, it will make you want to get a really sweet leather jacket.

…

So that’s all she wrote you beauty cats!

Enjoy the weekend, stay warm, dry, safe, and sound.

I wouldn’t wish it any other way.

A year of ranting and rolling

Can you believe it?

One hundred and eighty-odd posts later and here we are – looking back on a year of blogging.

I started Rant and Roll because I love to write and because I am easily destroyed by issues that either break my heart or force steam out of my ears.

My amazing friend Sherie encouraged me to write down my rants, mostly due to the fact that she would absolutely kill herself laughing any time I was on the warpath, orating and gesticulating widely (like the modern day – severely pissed off – Pericles that I can be.)

And so I did.

At first all of my posts really were rants – calling out injustices, lamenting social ills, and waxing long on my huge beef with institutionalized sexism.

549734_10152091870115179_259813421_n — Pfft. If it’s not cutting at least 50 lbs, I can’t even be bothered.

But then, little, by little, my small corner of the internet began to evolve.

Sure, I still wrote about issues near and dear to my heart (I don’t think I could stop even if I tried.)

However, I also started to write about other things – my relationship with the brilliant man whom I share my heart and home; our kitty cat who rules the roost; and my travels both near and far, new and old.

2012-09-24 18.16.49 — Ms. Nymeria cuddling with Mr. M.

I began sharing pieces of fiction and poems.

My tricky relationship with the fashion industry has been well documented (as have the very good and very bad pieces I’ve stumbled across whilst playing dress-up on my lunch breaks.)

I’ve written about my past struggles with eating disorders and an experience from my youth that has left me scarred, but not broken.

I’ve written about my rocky relationship with hockey and my slow-building courtship with soccer.

In April I was Freshly Pressed and it was pretty much the COOLEST THING EVER.

There were days that I was so tired coming home from work that I cried.

But I also drooled on the metro.

I made pea soup and I cooked breakfast for dinner.

I hiked a mountain in California, and came third in my third ever half-marathon.

I was a Tough Mudder.

2012-06-23 12.17.20 — All that mud covered a crap load of bruises and cuts!

I took on the “I don’t watch TV” crowd.

I laughed a lot.

It has been simply smashing.

So what have I learned from this brilliant experience? What do I take away from three hundred and sixty-five days of blogging?

Well, the first thing is that I am darn proud of my little R&R.

On day one I swore to myself that I would write three times a week, no excuses.

At first it was hard – I wanted each piece to be INTELLIGENT, and THOUGHT PROVOKING.

CIMG7794 — High brow or die! FIRE AT WILL COMMANDER.

But then I just started to sit back and let it flow. I made sure not to force any one post into being something that it wasn’t – that it couldn’t be.

Looking back, there were some weeks where I wrote four, even five posts – not because I felt like I had to, but because I was inspired, and passionate, and excited, and so so happy to feel my fingers a-tap-tapping, flying across the keyboard, just trying to keep up to the pace of my frantic thoughts that were just spilling out of my head, onto the desk, and all over the floor.

I’ve learned that pictures and media are a good way of adding colour to your blog (no pun intended).

CIMG8829 — Palm trees at night, a visual delight.

(Or just to drive home the point of how truly bonkers you really are.)

I’ve learned that spam bots will leave comments that leave me breathless from laughter, and that real life people will leave comments that melt my heart into a puddle of mush.

(This is a good thing.)

But it the end, what I first and foremost take away from this crazy year of blogging is the opportunity to make my way through the remarkable WordPress community, read some outstanding blogs, and get to know some truly phenomenal people.

To all of my brilliant and beautiful blog friends, I wouldn’t want to do this without you.

You make me laugh at your fantastic wit.

You make me cry with your profound prose.

You make me fall in love with your children and your pets.

You make me jealous of all your amazing fashion pieces, and your delicate eyes for mixing and patching different patterns and palates.

You make me run faster, and work out harder.

You make me marvel at your art, your photography, your writing.

You make me want to be a better blogger.

You make me want to be better.

So thank you. Thank you all.

Here’s to another year of blogging.

So everyone buckle up – here come the terrible twos.