Photos – Page 5 – Rant and Roll

Gather round, and I shall tell you a tale

Dudes!

I’m back.

First, I would like to apologize for being completely MIA for the past little while. But let’s be honest here – blogging and any semblance of a writing schedule must be completely thrown by the wayside when visiting the coolest city on earth, to celebrate the marriage of two people you love like mad, right?

I mean, let’s not beat around the bush here.

NEW YORK IS THE BEST.

And that’s coming from a pretty seasoned traveller here. I’m been to London, and Paris, and Athens, and St. Petersburg, and a whack of other amazing and tantalizing places, but none of them quite feel the same as the Big Apple.

There is just something to the city that I absolutely love.

I love the complete lack of insecurity and judgement. I love how everyone is just doing their own thing, and owning it – whatever “it” happens to be.

I love the activity, the buzz. The electricity that seems to run throughout your veins, and itches your fingertips.

I love the crazy humidity, and freak thunder showers.

I love seeing how far Marc and I can walk in the rain without stopping to buy an umbrella.

I love the museums, and the fashion, and the men and women scampering about in business suits, and the other men and woman scampering about in little (to nothing!) at all.

I love the food.

I love Central Park, and the city’s clever, (and never wasted) use of green space.

I love the theatre.

I love the firemen who yell at me when I run past, letting them know they are looking for fit, strong women to join the force.

I love Brooklyn and its beautiful brownstones, and bustling young families.

I love getting dressed every morning, picking out the perfect outfit in which to walk the miles, and miles, and miles of sidewalk.

I love meeting up with other fabulous, funny, and completely endearing blogger friends.

I love riding the subway.

I love the friendliness of New Yorkers.

I love that my sister has found the love of her life, and that they make their home in a place where we can all gather, and congregate, and have the times of our lives.

It’s just like the t-shirt says:

I HEART NY.

Day 1.

Lots of napping upon arrival (red eyes will knacker you but good!)

Then it was time for some exploration, the Brooklyn flea market, and an absolutely delicious sushi dinner.

The night capped off with wine and stories with good family friends, and the most mind-blowingly delicious biscotti I have ever eaten.

Day 2.

RUN IT BABY!

Next, time for a little NY City Pride!

Then, more adventuring about Soho. Marc bought some snaztastic shorts, and we refreshed ourselves with some tapas and Prosecco.

Then, more window shopping and WEDDING PLANNING.

Day 3.

Brooklyn Bridge walking extravaganza!

Only of course to be met by a literal wall of water upon our arrival on the other side. Good thing we had the wonderful Ms. Java of Ambling and Rambling to spend time with for the next two hours.

After which, it was off to Wall Street, the Museum of the Native American, then Times Square, Central Park, Fifth Avenue, Rockefeller Centre, NBC, CBS, and Radio City Music Hall!

Day 4.

Get lost out on a run (I should have taken that left turn at Albuquerque, er, Dekalb.)

Planning, planning, planning!

Then a trek to the East Village for walking, walking, walking, sushi eating and sake drinking, cannoli eating, and cannoli buying.

More wedding planning!

Then off to the bar to drink rose. (Too much rose.)

Day 5.

WEDDING!

We made sure the day went off without a hitch.

And it was perfect.

And this makes my little heart smile.

Day 6.

Solo trip downtown for Union Square, Empire State Building, and more Fifth Avenue.

Met Marc at MoMA, and then set off to Chelsea to watch the most amazing play I have ever seen.

I will be talking about Sleep No More for the end of my days.

Day 7.

Convene with the newlyweds, and then set out for Central Park with mum.

Walk all about, and then one final crack at Fifth Avenue.

Enjoy wonderful food, drinks, friends, and conversation at Habana Restaurant.

Hold back my tears saying goodbye to the most important people in my life.

Know that we will be together before too long.

Say goodbye to New York.

Know that we will be together before too long.

Let’s get together and feel alright

My life currently revolves around three things:

1. Running.

Scotiabank half-marathon this weekend! I’ve raised almost $1,200 and it’s going to be an absolute hoot of a run.

Sub 1:30 or bust!

2. Bring up the Bodies (by the AMAZING Hilary Mantel)

This woman is an absolute genius. She makes me want to create beauty.

3. HOMELAND.

OMG.

Are you dudes watching this!?

IT’S SO GOOD. (Although mega, mega stress-inducing.)

Also, the whole world needs more Mandy Patinkin.

Meanwhile, around the apple orchard:

Oh hi there.

Delicious treats.

Godzilla-fied New Westminter.

Close cribbage games.

Post-talk flowers.

…

So blue haroo, and pip pip, and all that my good chaps.

I hope this week is filled with all the good things.

And more.

Always laugh when you can. It is cheap medicine.

Five things that are making me laugh.

1. In Act V, scene i of Much Ado About Nothing (my spirit animal in play form), Benedick calls Claudio “Lord Lackbeard” when confronting him on his wrongful scorning of Hero.

Now, I’ve always thought this to be a terrific insult, and I laugh at it every time I either read it on the page, or hear it used live.

This past weekend, I made a joke about the fact that I’ve pretty much run my breasts into non-existence. Building off of this love, Marc didn’t miss one beat, and immediately called me his “Lord Lackboob.”

LORD LACKBOOB.

Classic.

I’ll be laughing about that for YEARS.

2. This Lonely Island song.

Angela Merkel is a lyric.

A LYRIC!

I can always do with more Merkel in my life.

3. I was speaking with my mum on the phone yesterday and she told me how she was helping out at my sister’s store when she went to the washroom to use some of my sister’s hairspray.

(My sister practically lives at her shop, so she keeps an assorted array of housekeeping materials in her bathroom – toiletries, changes of clothes, shoes – it’s a veritable treasure trove of her stuff.)

Anyway, my mum nearly gave me a laugh-induced stroke on the skytrain when she followed-up with, “only what I thought to be hairspray turned out to be industrial grade oven cleaner!”

And people wonder why I am the way that I am.

4. This photo of my sister and I from Christmas this year.

Yeah.

It’s really amazing Ford Models isn’t blowing up my phone trying to sign me.

5. Mary Roach’s Packing for Mars.

This lady is one heck of a great writer, and funny to boot. Ever wondered how hard it is to use a toilet in zero gravity?

No?

Me neither.

(But you’ll definitely not want to miss her chapter on just how hard it can be. I mean – they actually have to practice, on earth, with cameras, before launching themselves into orbit!)

I mean, who knew that there would be such a science, to well, this part of science?

…

So that’s all she wrote my darlings.

I’ll just be here in my little corner of the interwebs, silently shedding these tears of happiness.

And I’ll probably be here for a while.

Say Cheese!

On Monday night Marc and I walked up to London Drugs to get some photos developed.

Can you believe this is actually still a thing?

I barely remember life before digital cameras – a time where you had “rolls” of film, that, once processed, were delivered in an envelope with a set of “negatives.”

How utterly quaint!

Now that we live in the age of the duck-faced selfie, you might be hard pressed to find someone under the age of fifteen (maybe even twenty) who would even know the definition of “negative,” let alone what one looks like.

Excluding, of course, hardcore hipsters, who walk around with their clunky Polaroid cameras, not-so-secretly wishing that real life itself could be viewed through a sepia tone filter.

I am, of course, just waiting for that one enterprising hipster who will start carting around a Rand Collins (you know, the cameras with the curtain, and the post-shot plumes of smoke), and who will always be yelling at their bored-looking girlfriend to “WATCH THE BIRDY!”

Because that will be great.

Anyways, to get back to my original story, on our way back home we walked past this hair salon:

This has got to be the most fun place to work, in the history of places to work.

If I wasn’t so suspicious of what actually consititutes LIVE DJs, I would probably have to go in one day and scope out the joint myself.

Although, any attempt at reconnaissance on my part would probably end poorly. I’d be there, waiting on an eyebrow waxing, all IF THIS ISN’T THE NEW DAFT PUNK I’M OUTTA HERE!

And they’d be all – WHO IS THIS CHICK?

And then I would end up having this done to me:

What?

How?

WHAT COULD THIS POSSIBLY MEAN?

If any of you peeps out there are esthetically inclined, please, I beg of you, explain this “special effects” phenomenon!

Oh, and speaking of complete confusion –

The other day I was out on a lunch walk-about with my terrific friend Katie (she being in hot pursuit of a fab dress to wear to the many weddings she will be going to this upcoming summer) when we came across this outside of Forever XXI:

Now, individuals who have been reading this here blog for many moons will know that I have a long-standing love/WTF relationship with this store.

I have procured a number of lovely pieces from its many sales racks, but more often than not I am overwhelmingly mystified by the majority of the vestments on display within the store.

In short: EVERYTHING IS CRAZY.

I mean, just look at this poster.

LOOK!

This woman is literally wearing animal-print diaper pants.

If someone asked me to name this garment, I would answer, “Depends.”

They are crazy and I don’t understand why anyone would want to walk around outside, in the daylight, looking like they had freshly filled their drawers.

THIS IS NOT A GOOD LOOK FOLKS.

I have no hard feelings either way towards this whole “bralet” trend, suffice to say that it’s not really my cup of tea, but heck if I will trample on someone’s rights to sport a seven dollar, studded bra top.

Unless, of course, it’s sags all the way down to their ankles.

Then we’ll need to talk.

I was just going to see your boss. Tell Jabba I’ve got his money.

Because, well, sometimes it must be done.