Scoop du jour

Um...wow

2007-01-28T17:17:00.000-05:00

In order to give my brain a chance to recover from the onslaught of Jager, 50 and red wine, I present a list -- A Brief Series Of Events That Occurred As A Result Of W. Living Out Her Alter Ego.

1. So much Jager that it's possible they ran out.
2. They actually DID run out of quarts of 50.
3. Chad Kroeger look alike's birthday.
4. A frostbitten toe.
5. Poutines all around!

The joy of British comedy

2007-01-18T21:35:00.000-05:00

I am really at a loss about what to blog about since I am in constant contact with anyone who reads this blog thanks to email, texts, photo sites, and frig, let's go old school...THE PHONE.

However, I wanted to tell you all at once about the AWESOME show that I discovered due to the recent addition of BBC Canada to my channel lineup. The Thick of It is this sort of Yes Minister-The Office (UK) magical hybrid. It's a mockumentary set in a minister's office. The comedy, it is hilarious in the way it kind of hits the nail on the head (read: it drives the nail squarely into the wood). I DARE any of you whose email addresses end in gc.ca to watch it and not immediately know who Malcolm's Canadian equivalent is.

Ok, I've said too much.

p.s. Happy New Year!

A diary of the lazy

2006-12-16T11:06:00.000-05:00

I have been inspired by K. to think about my own path to becoming someone who was once "someone who works out" but is now "someone who continues to pay for a gym membership." I used to scoff at those people who were too tired to work out after work or couldn't find the time. I don't even have a boyfriend, let alone children, yet in the past month or so my workout schedule has been this:

Monday: Go to the gym after work.
Tuesday: Obviously, this is my rest day. I just went to the gym yesterday!
Wednesday: Tote gym bag to work. During the course of the day, receive invitation that I cannot turn down (examples: reception thrown by the brewers' lobby; birthday party for MP; any other event involving free food/booze). Decide that it's no big deal to skip another workout...I should be out on the town!! Leave gym bag at work.
Thursday: Far too tired to go to the gym after work. Was out too late the night before. Body deserves rest.
Friday: For some reason, after 2pm on Fridays is the busiest time of my week. Leave work at 6pm with a vague air of suicidality (not a word, I know) around me. Obviously am too depressed to work out.
Saturday: Excessive guilt means I am finally ready to get back on the treadmill.
Sunday: Obviously a day of rest! Even God says so!

I used to be sooo skinny -- when I couldn't afford nice meals and I had 15 hours of class a week. But looking back, I remember that I never felt happy with the way I looked, even at my slimmest. So what's the point? I know I am supposed to exercise for the goodness of my heart and cholesterol level and blah blah blah, but COME ON: I do it to get skinny. Which I will never be, in my mind. I need a new reason -- much like K., I need to figure out a way to view it as part a of my life in the same way I view, say, sleeping. And a way to view it as more than for just superficial reasons.

Kickoff the Christmas season!

2006-12-10T14:43:00.000-05:00

I don't really decorate or anything for Christmas...that's what going home is for. So, how lucky was it for me to be invited to K&D's legendary Christmas extravaganza! Though the conversation wasn't always Chrismas appropriate -- bald eagles and hurricanes and the like -- it was always quick-witted and amusing and we had Christmas music as a background to bring us back to more appropriate topics.

Some had better manners than others:

But the food (the food!!) and decor, and -- last but not least -- the company were fabulous. Also, the gifts were so fun and thoughtful...I kind of felt like a little kid again! Pictures of the destruction below.

Some other glimpses of the night:

A day late

2006-12-07T17:29:00.000-05:00

My grandfather used to laugh at my grandmother when she would wear pants. By the time I was born, when they were 60 years old or thereabout, it was assumed and unspoken that I would go to university in whatever field I chose. My grandmother couldn't wear pants, but I sure as hell could have been a doctor were I not so queasy around blood. All this change. In the span of less than a lifetime.

I really want to take this moment to reflect on the fact that I can inwardly wrinkle my nose when I hear the word "feminist" only because of women who didn't cringe when they heard that word.

The paradox of choice (yes, I am aware of and have read the book by the same name)

2006-12-05T21:07:00.000-05:00

I spent 20 minutes in Sears today choosing socks. Well, the socks themselves were not the issue. The issue was knee-highs for work. I like wearing fishnets for two reasons: 1) not boring, and 2) for some reason, men notice. Anytime they are not speaking to my chest I count as time well spent.

However, for some reason this struck me as some kind of indicator of the excess of our society. Why this out of the million other things in the Rideau Centre in December during the Christmas shopping season, but...I mean, it pissed me off because it's one thing to only be able to buy plain sheer kneehighs. But I was specifically looking for tan fishnets. They came in hot pink. They came in lavender. But not a colour to actually match my skin?? I figured that if they were attempting to present every other possible option, they tight-makers could at least have the decency to give me that choice. Or...maybe they were sold out.

Just quickly

2006-11-25T11:19:00.000-05:00

I can't let this blog degenerate into whining!! You people suffer through that enough in real life.

The guilt inside

2006-11-15T21:53:00.000-05:00

I didn't vote on Monday in the municipal election. The only mayoral candidate (come on, as if any of you know who was running for trustee in your districts) that I was aware of -- cough Munter cough -- I was advised would ruin the downtown core and drive taxes through the roof...not that I currently pay taxes, but I anticipate I will one day. Also, I had Monday off, which gives me even less of an excuse, but I find it so hard to get motivated when I am actively concentrating on relaxing. If I am still expunging my guilt, I will say that the worst part about not voting is the fact you have no right to bitch about any decision made by the new people in charge.

**Side-note: Oh my god, is Mansbridge actually talking about BORAT? Dude's marketing people should win some kind of award.

The effects of watching too much Law and Order, thanks to my new PVR

2006-11-14T17:51:00.000-05:00

Thoughts such as these:

"If I turned up dead, the police would be sooo happy to find my Rolodex. That would totally be a great source of information for them."
"Maybe I could be a lawyer. Jack McCoy is so principled. I wish I were more like that."
(On the semi-mysterious somewhat-disappearance of That Guy Who You All Wish I Would Just Stop Speaking Both To And About but who is probably just avoiding his stalker, who is me) "Oh my god, when I said to (guy at my work who totally takes care of things, possibly in the mob sense) that I wish (That Guy) would just disappear, did he actually do something? If he did, can (That Guy) go to the police? If something bad happens to him, can I be arrested and put on trial for the theory that I should have forseen my actions leading to this eventuality?"
"Why the f**k don't these people ask for their lawyers as soon as Lenny slaps on the cuffs? They are so stupid."

Why Never To Drink Foreign Liquor

2006-11-12T23:04:00.000-05:00

Things I learned last night:

1. S. does an amazing Borat impression ("not by force")
2. Brad does respect women
3. The wicker basket on top of W. and J.'s fridge is always filled with reserve liquor
4. Whenever someone says, "Hey, I brought that booze from (x country)" it never ends well
5. Boh can't move very quickly, but it is still possible to lose him
6. Brad has very fast reflexes
7. Parties at W. and J.'s are consistently amazing!

Thanks for making dinner for all of us for less than $10, Brad!!

Attaching some pictures that sum up the night.

(p.s. Several drunken phone calls were placed by me to people -- okay, a person -- who I am supposed to be not speaking to. When are we going to get the technology in North America that stops the tragedy that is drinking and dialling?)

Plus or minus

2006-11-10T17:06:00.000-05:00

I can't figure out whether or not the fact I have never felt more mentally drained on a Friday says good or bad things about my job.

As a sidebar I will say, though, that yes, I know the Old Boys' Club mentality still exists. And I try to remember that though it shouldn't exist, it does, and so I use what advantages I have as a woman to my benefit. (Am I not supposed to say that out loud?) But come on. It's perfectly within the realm of possibility for me to be conducting a conversation alone with a man in his office without there being even a hint of impropriety.

Phrases not to say in the office of your boss's boss, despite the fact you are saying them quietly to a person who has just entered the room*

2006-11-09T21:35:00.000-05:00

"Oh my GOD, I am sweating like an animal right now."

*first in a possible series, but let's hope not.

Sand and sun

2006-11-09T19:43:00.000-05:00

Theoretically, I could go on a vacation next week. I decided to look on the Last Minute Club website to see if there was even anywhere to go. WRONG IDEA. It turns out that if you leave Saturday, you can lie on the beach with airfare and unlimited food and drink included for $400. That's only about $100 more than I was going to spend on winter boots.

Note that the irony of this post immediately follwing the last is not lost on me.

Conspicuous consumption

2006-11-06T18:59:00.000-05:00

The first thing I do when I get up in the morning, after I make it into the bathroom, is check to make sure my diamond earrings are still in my ears. You see, these are my "everyday" earrings, meaning I wear them as placeholders -- to sleep, to work, to the gym, unless I decide that flashier earring are more appropriate. And god forbid one of them falls out in the night.

I overheard a mother speaking with her two daughters when I was at the mall yesterday. They were looking at a shirt that cost maybe $70. "You know, you have to work for a day-and-a-half to afford this shirt. Think about it that way." I know she was talking to a kid who makes probably $7.15 an hour at her part-time job, but it got me thinking...when is the last time I ever thought in those terms about a purchase? I remember A. making sure her purchases were economical in terms of cost-per-wear, meaning an $800 bag could be justified if you were going to use it every day for more than three years. Me...I wander around until something catches my eye. I try it on, and only then do I decide whether the cost is worth it. The most significant thing I remember putting down after glancing at the price tag since I got a "real job" was a $500 Hugo Boss dress in Schad that the salesgirl was trying to convince me looked great over jeans. "You look like Beyoncé!" she said.

I am really torn between spending my vast disposable income on...essentially disposable things, and...well, what is the alternative? Giving all of my money to charity? Stowing it all in my savings? Investing? But the latter two imply that the money will be spent at some point. And wouldn't my time be more valuable to charity?

Eventually, when I have a husband and children, I assume most of this will dry up and I will spend my money on my mortgage and on diapers. But I still can't shake the feeling I get sometimes that I just spent as much on a shirt yesterday as some families spend on groceries for the week (my grocery shopping: put what I want in my basket). I am not sure where I'm going with this, other than that I assume that I should be more grateful than I am for the good fortune I have that my hard work has paid off in the form of a good-paying job.

The shopping gods have smiled upon me, or; tangible evidence of good karma?

2006-11-05T15:51:00.000-05:00

The mall is plentiful with deals right now, and as a result I am the proud owner of several new tops (including one with the design seen at right), pants, and shoes. Some tips: the sale section of Banana Republic is really, really good; and Guess is actually full of interesting pieces that fit people with breasts (especially if you are a fan of turquoise). I won't bore you with my current search for a Work Dress, but once again I came home empty-handed in that area (of course the only one that meets my standard is the one that I tried on in Prague but was a size too small and I was too tired to deal with asking "can you check in the back for a larger one?").

I think my luck possibly, just possibly had to do with the fact that I turned down an offer to be flown to Toronto for a night on the town including what I can only assume were courtside seats at the Raptors game. Honestly, just when I think things are mundane...bizarro-world.

(p.s. I swear, one of these days I am going to write about something meaningful, as inspired by the fact I just read about the Middle East Peace Process on another blog -- I won't name names.)

A correction

2006-11-05T10:30:00.000-05:00

Maybe not worst intervention ever, but possibly most ineffective and most irrelevant. Whatever. I thought getting 11 hours of sleep last night would totally help me and it didn't. Damn common knowledge!!

I am doing some pre-shopping since -- and I believe my female readers will agree -- when you go to the mall with the intentions of actually actively purchasing something, you can never find said thing. It's like...Magaziner's Law.

Yeah, this post is a little lacklustre. Three weeks into a four-week stretch of the HoC (if you don't know what that stands for you wouldn't care even if I spelled it out) can do that to a person. Sweet sweet break week, you can't come soon enough!

I only have three words for you, dear readers:

2006-10-31T22:43:00.000-05:00

Worst. Intervention. Ever.

On a lighter note, the instrumental part at the end of Belle and Sebastian's "My Wandering Days Are Over" might be my ultimate favourite piece of music.

Holy geez

2006-10-30T17:47:00.000-05:00

So here I am finally getting over my Monday morning hangover (!!) after the BEST PUMPKIN CARVING CONTEST EVER. I think W. summed it up best with "Sunday afternoon is the new Saturday night." And I have to agree that the judging system for the pumpkins MAY have been flawed -- Team Awesome was robbed!! Come on, look at that art. Note the sneer -- that was not by accident. I was sad that I had to leave early but who would have thought that the party would just be getting going (i.e. W. brought down the backup alcohol from on top of the fridge) at 7:30? Also, I was glad to see that J. changed the water in the dog bowl, as I stepped in it while trying to avoid Samy who was trying to kick me instead of making sure the pumpkin seeds didn't burn. Which they didn't somehow, and were really delicious.

Like the opposite of what I studied in university

2006-10-26T20:52:00.000-04:00

I have recently found myself on the receiving end of questions that I actually felt panicked in answering. For example, this morning, I had to give a tour of my building to highschool students who could not have cared less that the ACTUAL NOBEL PEACE PRIZE that Pearson won was, like, right there, however...during the part where I asked if anyone had any questions, assuming that I would be asked how I got my job, their teachers were grilling me on policy! I channelled a combination my office's communications guru (he might have written "Getting To Yes") and the opposite of my training in journalism school and actually...I have to say I didn't do half bad. My trick: leading off with, "Well, as you know," so half the response is taken up with obvious fact. Feel free to steal it.

Why have I not finished "Getting To Yes"??

2006-10-26T20:47:00.000-04:00

Why is it that in conversations that I find difficult I always acquiesce? Like I am so worried about other people feeling uncomfortable but god forbid I get my point across. I am not quite sure as to why I can accept the statement "that is how I feel and there's no way I can change that" but despite the fact it also applies to MY FEELINGS it doesn't occur to me to say it back? I am so frustrated with myself right now. Can you tell?

Silk, lace, crinolines and veils

2006-10-24T21:03:00.000-04:00

So this weekend I went with K. to look for her wedding dress. You know how sometimes you do something so fast it seems like the sequence of events are switched? That describes how fast I said "yes" to the question "do you want to come look at dresses at Justina McCaffrey?" (At least, how fast I said yes in my mind.) B., W., K. and I went from "trying to pretend we're rich" to "let's throw our coats down right here beside this multi-thousand dollar dress in the window." (Can you believe K. thought we would be so hard to convince to attend that she lied and said there would be champagne? At least I know she is a faithful reader!)

In the end, K. tried on about 50% dresses chosen by her and 50% chosen by the panel. She was a great sport. Who looked AMAZING in so many of the dresses. I will say no more.

Other faithful readers will know about my miserable luck with the opposite sex...well, I killed all remaining shreds of luck that my subconscious had tucked away by TRYING ON A DRESS. Unengaged, practically a nun, crazy-guy-magnet me. You can see it in the window right now -- the one with the pink lace at the bottom. It was totally worth it.

And the Grammy goes to...

2006-10-21T14:57:00.000-04:00

As anticipated by Dawn, here are some original lyrics created during long stretches of driving the roads of Europe:

"Oh Peanut Butter" (to the tune of O Christmas Tree):
Oh peanut butter, oh peanut butter,
How often I taste your flavour.
In the morning...and evening
In the car, and outdoors...
(That's where it trails off).

"The Funicular Song" (with an original tune)
Funicular, funicular
There's nothing in particular
That I like more in the world
Than a funicular!

"Man on a bike" (to the tune of Band on the Run)
Man on a bike
Maaaaan on a bike
On the autostrada, you're going too slow

"Lady on a bike" (with an original tune)
Lady on a bike
Lady on a bike
Lady on a biiiiiike
Lady on a bike
You're crazy!!

Zucchini and emmenthal

2006-10-19T19:08:00.000-04:00

I bought some emmenthal cheese yesterday at the grocery store. I really like emmenthal because when Dawn, Brad, and I spent 5 weeks driving around Europe, our favourite thing (my favourite thing?) to eat when we cooked at the campsite was grilled cheese. But, for some reason, we didn't want just regular cheddar -- we needed something with more kick. Well, Brad and I did. Dawn didn't, and I'm sure still doesn't, like...um...tangy (?) cheese. (What's the word? Pungent? Strong-tasting?) Emmenthal was one we could all agree on. And, probably at my insistence as I had announced I was going to try and eat at least one fruit or vegetable a day (Brad: "Good luck"), we put zucchini on it. Brad was against it, but we somehow convinced him that zucchini had no taste of its own, like tofu. Also, Brad will mostly do anything Dawn asks/tells him. So we ate grilled cheese made with emmenthal and zucchini, which will always remind me separately and together of campsites in Europe (for some reason, specifically Bruges).

p.s. Remind me later to write down the lyrics of the song I made up about peanut butter to the tune of "O Christmas Tree." I totally kicked ass at the making-up-songs game, to the point where I spontanteously sung a verse about a funicular that caused both Dawn and Brad to whip aroud their heads and ask, "Is that already a song?!"

p.p.s. That picture is actually from Chamonix.

Public Service Message

2006-10-18T19:28:00.000-04:00

Date: October 18
Location: Government workplaces across the National Capital Region
Message: Bitch, PLEASE, it's the second-half of October. I don't care if you got some really cute new sandals from the Town Shoes sale and you cannot possibly wait until spring. Wear them around your house. It is NO LONGER SEASONALLY APPROPRIATE TO SHOW YOUR TOES!

Back to whatever you were doing before.

I think I know why I am tired during the week

2006-10-15T14:01:00.000-04:00

I know I have neglected my dear readers, but I have had a busy weekend. Drinks then dinner then drinks and dancing on Friday, and then...this is so shocking that you should brace yourselves. I sang karaoke last night.

A., I know you're mad, because I swore that I would Never Sing Karaoke. I really believed I never would. Then I was asked to go to the birthday party of a girl who I do not know well enough to openly show my disdain for karaoke. Brad noticed a gradual change in semantics over the evening -- I went from "I will not sing" to "I don't want to sing," and then "I have to be embarassingly drunk to sing" -- and got literally a helping hand from the party hostess who made sure as soon as there was room to pour more wine into my glass, there was wine being poured.

I have to say the evening was a success, and I did NOT embarass Brad, as I was feted as "the best party guest ever." Really! The karaoke was surprisingly fun, ESPECIALLY when Dr. Watson pulled out his light sabre (not a euphemism) during the guitar solo of the rock song he was doing. Then...well, I guess the alcohol got the best of me, because Brad and I ended doing a duet -- you can find the lyrics here. It was the gentleman's choice, not the lady's, just to clarify.

Ode to my tweed jacket

2006-10-11T17:43:00.000-04:00

Oh, how I love you. We've only known each other for about a month and a half but I feel comfortable saying that I haven't felt about any piece of clothing in a long time the way I feel about you. I love the way you make me feel girly and professional at the same time. I love the way it almost seems like I have no boobs when I wear you but yet have a waist. I love the little bustle-type thing at the back (I like to think of it affectionately as a duck tail) giving you that little je ne sais quoi. Mostly, I love knowing that I can put you on in the morning and feel put together the instant you slip over my shoulders. (I also love you for what's on the inside -- specifically, your gorgeous blue and brown lining.)

Back to your sweet potatoes and black tornados

2006-10-10T21:51:00.000-04:00

If nothing else good comes from the Drama We Don't Currently Speak About, at least I was introduced to Danny Michel. Man, does that guy do well whatever you call cheesy when it's not mortifying...I guess it's sentimental. But that sounds too family-ish. Hopefully you know what I mean. In any case, my heart melts when he sings about the sweet potatoes. Even if I did have to burn the CD myself (I promise I will stop with that anecdote soon).

On a semi-related tangent, here is how NOT to pick up a girl:

While she is trying to make casual conversation and since the only thing you currently have in common is that YOU ARE BOTH AT A BAR she says, "I think I am going to grab another drink," your response should not the following: "What, do you think I'm going to buy you a drink or something?" Sweet Lord Jesus. I don't want to have to get all girl-power on you unnecessarily. But Christ, I do not want you to ask me if I think you are going to buy one. If you want to, by all means, I have never turned down a free drink. But don't insinuate that I am trying to con you out of $6.50. How insulting.

Speaking in hushed tones

2006-10-09T19:45:00.000-04:00

I don't want to add to the mass of space taken up by "can you believe how pervasive the internet is" dialogue, but...really. I had two friends -- and as of today, thankfully I am back down to one -- who for one reason or another do not/did not have access to the internet. I didn't realize how much information I got from this superhighway of information (I can't believe people ever said that) until my conversations started going like this: "Yeah, that was crazy, eh! Oh...I thought she told us...oh, um, maybe I read it on her blog. (The following is said mournfully:) I forgot you didn't have the internet." You poor, poor thing.

When worlds collide

2006-10-09T19:39:00.000-04:00

I hung out with the Chicks at Six in Toronto this past weekend. Our worlds were not really colliding per se, but it's a funny (because it's true) concept nonetheless.

What I am thankful for: well, amongst other things, being able to get a ride back rather than take the train!

Umm...

2006-10-05T19:41:00.000-04:00

I have a certain rabid fan who is depressed if she checks my blog in the morning and there is nothing there. So this one is for you:

The only picture where your child looks at least vaguely happy to be in my company! I'm posting it even though I look like a bag of ass because Hugo is sooo cute. Ignore the Latoya Jackson: True Hollywood Story in the background.

p.s. Dawn, I went on your brother's blog and your hot cousin is way too hot for his girlfriend. I promise not to say that to him at your wedding.

The secret benefits of attending committee

2006-10-03T23:23:00.000-04:00

The committee that I attend as part of my job has decided to form a subcommittee which I now also have to attend. I came thisclose to not attending the first meeting tonight, because all they do is elect the cha....ok you are falling asleep. Suffice it to say that I predicted the outcome before it happened.

What I didn't predict was this magical series of events:

Ending up discovering the guy sitting next to me is that guy who I would always see around and say to myself, "hey, there's that guy I think is really hot."
Being told by the dude who refills the juice that I really should just go out and get the bag of free stuff they are offering down in the ballroom.
Realizing that the reception being held RIGHT OUTSIDE THE DOOR is the magical cosmetics reception that K. strongly encouraged me to research and attend.
Being handed a bag full of approx. $85 worth of full-sized brand-name beauty products (considerably less than in past years, according to rumour, but more than I left the house with this morning).
Earning brownie points by attending FOUR HOUR debate with my boss (ok, that I predicted).
Being able to spy on He Who I Am Trying Not To Contact at his place of work (also was able to predict).
Being offered a drive by my boss's boss after said debate (not accepted as I was not going back to the department).
Never having wished I carried my camera at all times more than tonight to capture the mist that covered the Hill as I left at 11pm. I kept turning back to look at it. It was magical. I hesitate to describe it this way, but it looked like CGI. It was stunning.

Next year

2006-10-01T21:37:00.000-04:00

Apart from being the year of weddings, is also the ten-year anniversary of me graduating highschool (grade 12...not OAC). There is a reunion already in the works. I keep in touch with a good number of my old friends from highschool, so I'm not sure what the draw is in going. To be honest, I kind of don't get the appeal. I have stayed in contact with the people I liked. Is it mean to say that I am mostly not interested in finding out what everyone else ended up doing? (Isn't that what Google is for?) Of course, I will go anyways, and talk to the people I already speak to, and I suppose make awkward, "so, what do you do now?" conversation with the rest. And then end up drunk at the legion or wherever they have it. Oh well. At least I have a really good business card.

I don't know how those of you who have moved away from the place you went to highschool feel when you go back. For me, I am instantly an insecure 17-year-old, and I cannot figure out why. It's something that really bothers me because I think of myself as mostly confident...but it all goes out the window as soon as the 401 splits into the collectors and express lanes. Maybe it's because most of my friends from highschool who stayed around Toronto still all hang out with each other, so the dynamic never changed. I have a definite spot in the hierarchy. I suppose it's pretty cemented by now. But I do notice that the friends I get along with best (by definition the ones I keep in contact with, obviously) are the ones who are a little more open to allowing and accepting change.

In a similar vein, my grade 8 best friend emailed me out of the blue. I'll save that for another entry! But as a teaser...in my mind, we're like that nature vs. nurture study that scientists do on twins who are separated at birth for whatever reason and then end up really different (or I suppose really the same). Let's just say the "really the same" option didn't occur to me until I typed it just now because...we ended up Really Different.

What I did on Sunday morning

2006-10-01T13:58:00.000-04:00

Other than learned how to post a video...helped the parents of this sweet little child get him into a Hawaiian bra and goaded him into dancing:

Musical prediction

2006-09-30T01:05:00.000-04:00

Clap Your Hands Say Yeah are the new Smiths. I will bet money.

Something I have learned but am in denial about

2006-09-29T17:37:00.000-04:00

During my intense study of the last few months entitled "Seriously: Why Can I Not Get A Man Interested In Me?" I have noticed one commonality (not sure if that is a word outside of the government). When a guy is interested, he does most of the work. He calls. He pursues. He cancels plans with his aunt to take you to dinner. And so on. It is so against my nature to not harass. But I suppose it's worth a shot.

Since I haven't posted a picture in a while: the Prague skyline, in hopes of good karma. That city is so romantic!

On scent

2006-09-28T19:46:00.000-04:00

I am always amazed by how the smell of something can inspire such vivid emotions and memories. Of course there are perfumes and colognes that remind you instantly of people -- that's their purpose -- but even more amazing is when you catch a whiff of a shampoo that reminds you of summer camp. (Seriously though, you guys can cool it with the Hugo Boss cologne.)

Also, forgot to mention

2006-09-25T20:30:00.000-04:00

A girl hit on me at the bar on Saturday!! Brad had to talk to her girlfriend while I was getting asked, "have you ever just stood out in the rain?"

On shoes

2006-09-25T19:49:00.000-04:00

I didn't ever attempt wearing heels on a regular basis until I started working at a real, full-time job. I started out with chunky 1 1/2 inch cinderblocks and yet thought I was the sassiest thing to walk the earth.

I went to London in 2003, and the pointy-toe-stiletto thing was HUGE. I couldn't bring myself to wear full-on points, but the stiletto...that I could try. I bought a pair at New Look for £25. I decided to wear them for the first time to Dawn's friend's (and soon to be maid of honour's) hen party. Dawn and I went with the sister of the bride, Gemma, to the restaurant. Gemma estimated that we could walk from London Bridge station to the OXO Tower restaurant (can you tell I am also using this opportunity to reminisce?). I figured Gemma knew what she was talking about since she LIVES in London. Turns out it's a good kilometre or two on cobblestone between A and B. "Well," I thought to myself, "all of these other girls are wearing really thin heels...I guess it's supposed to hurt a bit." Those shoes were not worn for one minute any time I was sitting. We went from bar to bar to bar that night and the pain slowly got worse despite all the double vodkas with lemon soda. We took a night bus home to Gemma's...who again didn't mention (or maybe I blocked it out) that it was at least 2k from the bus stop to her apartment. I was almost in tears. I actually walked home barefoot. Dawn knew it was bad when I screamed out "NO!!" when she asked me if I wanted to stop for a bag of chips (or crisps as it were...British junk food is the absolute best). I was so depressed. I was not a "heels" person. I couldn't even bear to look at the shoes again...so pretty, but SO DEADLY.

Fast forward to today. I wear heels to work every day and am actually even pretty good at running in them when need be. (Even on marble! I've thought about putting that on my resume.) Today, I broke out the New Look shoes from London. Holy mother fuck were my feet killing by the end of the day. But at the same time I was so happy...it really was the shoes' fault!

Last minute dinner guest

2006-09-24T22:34:00.000-04:00

Special thanks to K. who let me crash her dinner party after I had politley declined her offer earlier in the day. Technically, the eating was over and the drinking had begun, but she DID feed me nonetheless -- small oven fire be damned! And fine, I may overuse "this has a great texture" as a descriptor but it is often true...not only is K.'s food delicious but it also always has amazing texture. AND she has great makeup.

Really though, it meant a lot to be able to call and barge in but be made to feel like a welcome addition. Sorry about the Centerba!

Random thoughts

2006-09-23T10:43:00.000-04:00

First of all, I have to say that W. was totally right about my little poll. She should know. She owns a book about blogging! I won't elaborate further on the daydreaming, since putting it into print WILL definitely give me bad karma, no question.

Second of all, I don't know how much TLC people out there watch, but it's my default station. However, I am disturbed by a new commercial they are running for some kind of birth control. I will never know the whole deal, since the description -- "flexible, comfortable, vaginal" -- is enough to make me tune out every time it comes on. It's basically the "one of these things just doesn't belong here" game.

Thirdly, I have been tentatively invited to a FOURTH wedding next summer, this time in sunny Alberta. Jesus Christ, people!! What about all my friends who might get accidetally pregnant and have to have a quick wedding? You are leaving them no wiggle room!

Lastly, I am most likely (hopefully?) eating dinner here tonight. I will not be able to eat all day since everything I have in my house will not compare favourably to the culinary delights that await.

A general poll

2006-09-22T17:18:00.000-04:00

Can you get bad karma from a daydream? What do y'all think?

Ying to yesterday's yang

2006-09-20T19:07:00.000-04:00

To counteract yesterday's whining, I will say that I am super happy that I have been able to convince myself to get to the gym semi-regularly. My motivation might (in part) be a slight sense of competition I feel with B. who DOESN'T EVEN SWEAT on the treadmill. And she wears a sweatshirt, to encourage weight loss through water loss. (Hence the name of the garment.)

But yeah, I have been actually semi-getting my money's worth from my membership. I don't know how many of you are Goodlife members -- I don't recommend it -- but here is a classic example of why to stay away. Right now, they are advertising three free personal training sessions. I was like "there has GOT to be a catch." When I, the biggest sucker in the world, can sense there's a catch, you are doing something wrong. I ask the girl behind the counter, because I am gripping as tightly as possible to the hope that there might miraculously not be a catch, or the catch might be something I could live with. Turns out the catch is that you get three free personal training sessions with the purchase of FIFTY. 50!!! I actually started to laugh.

So yeah: while Goodlife may be a great example of how a virtual monopoly will abuse its power, it's kind of worth it for a smaller beer gut.

I haven't exactly been forthcoming...

2006-09-19T22:09:00.000-04:00

Some of you may have noticed that I have not continued my running tally of emails ignored. You are educated people; you can guess why.

I am kind of hanging my head in shame. I am a weak, weak person. But, at the same time...no offense, you're mostly all married or on your way, so while it's hard to justify, the attention is also...umm, I hesitate to say nice, because that's not necessarily the right word. An affirmation that I am a person who people want to talk to? An interesting case study to dissect over lunch? Frigging only guy who contacts me in a non-platonic way?

(Please, there may be some kind of award for most self-esteem-lacking blog post, but no need to nominate me.)

A trip back in time

2006-09-18T20:07:00.000-04:00

Let me preface this with the fact that I don't know how I lucked into being randomly assigned onto a res floor in first-year university with six girls who would come to feel like family. They are unconditionally supportive. I can have fun doing absolutely anything with them. Including, as it turns out, the following:

Trying to figure out how to open a $450 bottle of champagne.

Dawn and Brad came up to Ottawa this past weekend. Brad came because it was Carleton Lacrosse Alumni weekend. Dawn came to look at wedding dresses (and I guess support Brad). She, Jessica and I spent the day watching her try on some knockout gowns, eating dinner together, and drinking martinis. We were running out of steam when we finally got the call from Brad that the guys had finished doing their man-stuff and were at The Drink, and we needed to come meet them ASAP. When we got to the door, we needed to say that we were on the list.

Well, of course there was a huge regular line-up and a VIP mob. We were dressed in SWEATERS. We were quickly losing energy. I had to push through a crowd just to get to a bouncer and namedrop the two names as instructed. "How many are you, three? Come on in," was the reply. "Oh thank god!" we were all thinking (until Jessica got heckled). I have never witnessed people actually block another person's path before.

We had been told vague rumours of "VIP area" and "bottle service." Luckily, Brad is super tall so we saw him really quickly. And then all of my dreams came true. There actually WAS a VIP area with bottle service. And within 5 minutes of our arrival, we were asked the question every girl (just me?) dreams of:

"Do you girls want some champagne? What do you prefer, Dom or Cristal?"

Thank god I watch MuchMusic and therefore was aware of the champagne called Cristal. And it turns out that I would have preferred it (allegedly it's sweeter). The question caused me to have a momentary panic attack, as evidenced by my internal monologue: "Oh god what do I say? What if I say the wrong one? Are people expected to have an opinion on champagne? Do I look like someone who has formed an opinion on this?" The bottle came in its own velvet-lined box. I don't want to speak for Dawn and Jessica, but I was giddy. I think the guys barely noticed -- they were busy spilling Grey Goose and RedBull on each other (not an exaggeration) and, seriously, giggling. By the end of the night, I guarantee I had at least $80 worth of booze on my pants alone. It was just like all those nights we spent at The Cabin, except cranked way up. It was magically like no time had passed at all. I wish I could capture how great it felt.

For the Chicks at Six, who are the only people that will appreciate this, Kyle was wearing that belt that was part of Jessica's Halloween costume when she was a cowgirl. I almost pissed myself with excitement. You cannot imagine how long we discussed this belt. Had Eric stolen it or was he given it; how did it fit on Jessica, Eric, AND Kyle; the necessity of honouring the spirit of the belt (Chris Pawless?) by offering it a ceremonial drink; and so on.

For the rest, I wish I could explain how I never feel the distance between us "Chicks" even though we really do all live far apart. Kyle had brought his girlfriend who none of us had met before, and she was the only other girl out with the group that night. Dawn said she commented on how close we all were, and Dawn explained that we had been friends since university. She said, "Wow, you're really lucky, eh?" Words can't describe it.

You learn something new every day...

2006-09-17T11:28:00.000-04:00

Did you know they sell Dom Perignon at the bars in Ottawa? Pictorial evidence coming soon.

Let me rephrase: Did you know they sell Dom Perignon at bars in Ottawa that also have poles that are suspiciously stripper-like?

JK Rowling and the Boxcutter-like Manuscript?

2006-09-14T20:11:00.000-04:00

In case you haven't read this story, basically JK Rowling "talked" her way into letting airline staff let her bring the manuscript of her seventh Harry Potter book onto the plane when she was flying back to the UK. First of all, fine, let me get out of the way that I 100% understand that she was not going to check in the hold the only copy of one of the most anticipated books of the near future. And I get that the manuscript is not a weapon. However, I do take issue with the description that she could "talk" her way into bringing something deemed by airline security to be a hazard onto the plane. I was at Gatwick on the Tuesday after Liquidgate. I was incensed that I could not bring my contact lens solution on the plane, but...you couldn't bring liquids on a plane. What was I going to do? Apparently, I could have argued... And seriously, BINDING IT IN ELASTIC BANDS neutralized the security threat? In the risk of sounding like a bureaucrat (gasp) the policy is the policy is the policy. You shouldn't be able to circumvent it.

(update on email/text drama: I replied to an email. But it was so pathetic!! You would have done the same. And I retain the upper hand! Seriously!)

Running tally

2006-09-13T22:22:00.000-04:00

Six emails and two texts. Muhahaha.

Me vs. Five Emails

2006-09-12T17:14:00.000-04:00

Five unanswered emails are sitting in my Outlook at work. That is five times I have felt the sting of being punched in the dignity and five times I have had to fight my inner instincts that tell me to avoid conflict at any cost and just frigging write back and LIE if nothing else.

Funny though how easy it was to wrestle power back. And to see for myself how sometimes doing nothing is doing the most.

(Sidenote: I saw a crazy hot guy on a bike on Sparks Street. ON A BIKE! People who know me know my distaste for hippies...but he was defintiely a hipSTER. He had a leather attaché case in his bike basket. And he was smoking while he waited for the light to change. For some reason the whole tableau equalled me swooning with my mouth hanging open. I was amazed that I had never seen him before. I bet one of you knows him or knows a friend of his!! Good old Ottawa.)

(p.p.s. Speaking of hot. Sweet Lord Jesus. Watch the show...just trust me.)

Everybody listen to the Arctic Monkeys

2006-09-11T17:16:00.000-04:00

Ok, I know I am like a year behind on this, but I did become obsessed with the Arctic Monkeys months ago so I am not that behind. The music itself is great (I am a rabid Anglophile), but what I like best is their lyrics. I love the crazy British slang and all, but every time I hear the line "..the other one's the scary one/his way or no way, totalitarian..." I am also the kind of person (if there is more than one of me) who taps along to the syllables of the words rather than the beat. I know nothing about rhythm and arrangement, but just the way these lines flow freaks me out with its greatness each time I hear it. What song would you rather be on the dancefloor to than "I Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor?" Also, they namedrop Top Shop. I need to stop gushing before you people think they are paying me.

However, a band that sings about the dramas of texting someone when you're drunk is AWESOME based on that fact alone.

"I like a woman who likes cake!"

2006-09-10T11:15:00.000-04:00

Why are all the cool guys (a) old, (b) taken, (c) both?

(That's all for today. Head pounding.)

Serenity now

2006-09-08T17:21:00.000-04:00

I assume that most people, when asked to picture their happy place, picture something that looks like a beach. For me, I close my eyes and see the village in Italy where my grandparents met and my dad was born: Sant'Eufemia a Maiella. It's a village that according to the internet is currently home to just a few hundred people. I would estimate the current median age to be around 87. It wasn't always this way -- not until the hardships of WWII drove the vast majority of residents to emigrate to Canada, Australia, the U.S., even Venezuela. The horrors and strife led many to never want to return. Not my grandparents: they went back every summer that I can remember. They wanted me to go with them when I was 11. I didn't go.

For the longest time, I could never discern the exact name of the village through my Nonna's thick Italian accent. I do remember that she had an aerial picture of the village hung in her den and that as a young child I could not comprehend that she did not have a telephone at her house in Italy -- we had to call a family friend who would then walk over to her house and get her, and call back 20 minutes later.

I didn't go at all until 2002, when I went with my family -- my mom and dad and sister, and my aunt and uncle and cousins (and some other family to whom I still dispute our relation, but whose company I enjoy nonetheless). I remember driving up the winding roads. Every vista was more gorgeous than the one before it. I rolled down the window and was instantly struck by how fresh the air was. I try and recreate that moment for myself every time I visit, but I can't.

My cousins had already arrived in the village. For some reason, my immediate concern was that I was going to get lost when walking around. My cousin gave me some wise advice: take three lefts and you'll be back where you started. She was right...the whole village probably covers about four square kilometres.

But I digress. You people all know that my personality can be described as "easily wound up" and occasionally "tense." (I prefer "tense" to "anal," just FYI.) This is the one place on earth where honestly nothing stresses me out. There is nothing to stress over. There are exactly four things to do: walk to the boschetto, walk to the cemetery, visit family, and drink coffee. Seriously, when I was there this summer the biggest concern was getting to the bench "downtown" under the tree before the old people did.

The only thing that made me sad was hearing my uncle talk about when he had come to the village when he was fifteen -- there was a frigging DISCO there, people! Now there were "for sale" signs on 1/3 of the houses. I could never fathom how a province as beautiful as Abruzzo, with mountains and beaches and valleys in between, could have escaped tourism. IN ITALY. The land of 41 UNESCO world heritage sites. Fine, there are no Botticellis or ancient ruins in Abruzzo, but here is a chance to experience real Italian life without...well, anyone else but Italian people around.

I guess my hopes for Sant'Eufemia must not have been mine alone, because each summer I go back there are more actual tourists (as in people not related to anyone who lives in the village). This summer the house around the corner from mine had been purchased and was being renovated. This summer there was a program of activities that involved a POOL PARTY WITH NUTELLA! Nutella, people!! Things are looking up! (Funny fact: My father, when he was there this summer, was allowed to vote in the municipal elections. Note that the country will not permit my father to hold an Italian passport. Did I mention that the current mayor is a cousin?)

Every time I think of Sant'Eufemia my shoulders relax and my mind clears a little. I remember the fresh air and the cold, clear water that runs down the mountain and into fountains around town. But what hasn't occurred to me until this moment: when the tourists come back and the bars and hotels reopen, will it still be my favourite escape?

It's the most wonderful time of the year...

2006-09-07T20:08:00.000-04:00

...well, maybe not technically, but that Staples commercial where that guy is super excited for his kids to go back to school is still funny.

I think for most people, September will always have that feeling of a fresh start; of buckling down after a lazy summer (if you were lucky enough to have one). It's such a collective experience -- we all started school for all of our formative years every September. So it's hard to shake the feeling of new binders and pencil crayons -- now it's just new (suede) boots and clothes, but ones you were probably happy to shop for.

Yikes. For some reason I had forgotten about the snow that is going to come sooner than I'd like.

A lesson in willpower

2006-09-06T17:15:00.000-04:00

(Firstly, let me say that this was going to be an entry about a funny phenomenon that I have noticed at work that I decided I did not trust myself to conceal sufficiently so as to not endanger my job. There was even going to be a witty Harry Potter title.)

Anyways, this is an appeal for a lesson in willpower and not me telling you about my great reserves of this underrated character trait. I really, really need some willpower. Or need to learn how find it within myself, Oprah-style.

I don't lack it in every aspect of my life (I would never let myself get too chubby or too broke). But I do seem to lack willpower in one crucial aspect...relating to the opposite sex. Note to men readers (at this point it might just be you, Jason): apparently you can refuse to communicate with me unless it's text-based, to the point of screening the vast majority of my calls. Also, you can cancel nearly every planned outing (sometimes after the point that it was supposed to have begun) and yet I will still:

Respond to all of your attempts at communication.
Accept all of your invitations.
Apparently assist you in finding YOUR DREAM JOB.
Require no committment to ever, ever actually date me.

Seriously, WHAT THE FUCK?!

I know most of you know what I am talking about and are sick of hearing it. But I hope that seeing it for myself in black and white, in a public forum, will put the foot up my ass that I desperately need to just let this one go.

Commuting, Tyra style

2006-09-05T17:31:00.000-04:00

I've made a commitment to myself to walk the kilometre to and from my bus stop in the morning as a way of fooling myself into at least getting a hint of exercise every day. Also, a kilometre is about as far as I can walk without melting into a pool of sweat no matter the season, but I will spare you all (all 3 of you) the details.

Like everyone else in my demographic, I listen to music while I walk to work. Every once in a while the beat of a song serendipitously matches the rhythm of my steps (currently: Here Comes The Rumour Mill by the Young Knives) and suddenly I am doing my signature walk down Bank Street. If you aren't familiar with the concept of a signature walk, tune into CityTV on September 20 at 8pm for the glorious return of America's Next Top Model. Thankfully I can sexily stomp to the bus stop without Tyra calling me too jiggly (yes, a contestant was actually called that last season, and that wasn't even one of the best pseudo-insults).

Summer of Concerts

2006-09-04T14:06:00.000-04:00

This summer didn't top the Summer of Courtney (2000) but it ranks well. How I have lived in Ottawa since 1998 and never gone to Bluesfest before boggles my mind. No one told me it was a lazy, daily mingle-session for those in the 22-29 demographic! Thanks to a borrowed weekly-pass bracelet and some supplementary tickets, I saw at least 15 great bands, drank a ton of beer and even managed to have the police throw out an unruly old man. All this within a 5 minute walk from my apartment. Who said Ottawa was boring?!

Hezbollah threw a wrench into my plans in July (sorry about dropping off the face of the earth, guys...I still can't bear to look at W.'s pics from the party)...but I was back in top form this weekend at Osheaga in Montreal. 100% chance of rain be damned! The best part was that it was a festival that had so many bands I was 75% interested in seeing brought together for my viewing pleasure. I have to say, the Flaming Lips put on an absolutely amazing show and the singer from the Brazilian Girls will live on in my nightmares for a while. But the best performance? Even I was surprised (I was practically marking the days on my calendar 'till Clap Your Hands Say Yeah): hands down (hah), Damian "Jr. Gong" Marley. And the two days closed with a long set by the incredibly sexy Ben Harper. Great weekend had by all!

p.s. Don't let the "French garage-rock" description of the Hushpuppies deter you!

Uninspired

2006-08-31T17:34:00.000-04:00

Wow, 4 days into the blog and I am running out of ideas. I am feeling really lethargic lately, and I think it's because work is not so busy right now (i.e. normal). When the House comes back in a few weeks I will be looking at this time nostalgically.

In lieu, I am going to put up some of my favourite pictures from my recent trip -- yes the same pictures I strongly and frequently suggested everyone look at on my Flickr page.

Feeling kind of old

2006-08-30T17:23:00.000-04:00

I realized today that I no longer know anyone who lives in Sandy Hill. "That's ok," I told myself, "I didn't go to Ottawa U." Then I realized that I also no longer know anyone who lives in Old Ottawa South, where I lived when I went to university.

So I started thinking about things I have been noticing that might indicate that I am a contributing member of society, aka grown up. (Shh.) I used to only feel old when I picked up my drycleaning. Then I started thinking about the number of people who I consider hot who are also fathers. Yikes. It went downhill from there.

When I was a kid, I thought being an adult was all sugar for every meal and going to bed after midnight. There is still a lot of sugar, but there is also a lot more than I thought there would be (read: it has happened at least once) of going to bed at 9p.m. because what the hell am I going to stay up for, Fear Factor?!

I have to say, though, this might be the best adult-status-indicating thing that has happened to me: rushing up Parliament Hill in a pinstripe suit while talking on my Blackberry (yes, I am sometimes That Person) and noticing in the distance a bunch of schoolkids who are quickly going to be in my way. I say to the person I am speaking to, "Argh! There is a bunch of kids in the way!" My loud voice must have caught the ear of their teacher, because she cut off the group's movement by throwing out her arms and physically blocking their path.

I smiled and hurried past them, as I was late to meet A. and Br. to go to a reception where we weren't sure if we would have to pay $5 to get in, but we knew there would be free booze.

List of things I like about Europe

2006-08-29T18:39:00.000-04:00

One in an occasional series, I'm sure.*

Beer in the convenience store, and no one cares how much you buy.
The general sense of self-assurance, contrasted with Canada's self-consciousness.
Amazing art...there's nothing like seeing The Birth of Venus for yourself.
Cheap inter-country airfare.
Being able to discover and re-discover the place my dad is from. (Definitely more on this another time.)

It's funny, though...no matter where I go, I like Canada best. It's always such a relief to land and have that palpable sense of order. It's the one time that a lineup makes me happy inside.

*I know there are some who look down their nose because they see Western Europe as a boring vacation choice. Here's what I say: then why do so many people go there?

My week of poo

2006-08-28T18:17:00.000-04:00

I agreed to watch D. and K.'s cats while they gallivant around Peru. (Well, technically, they are hiking. But I bet the first 500m will be hiked jauntily.) D. made it seem like it might be tough...but what he doesn't know is my insane love for cats. The same love that causes my fear of becoming a crazy cat lady before I turn 30 because I really, really love cats. So I went over there today to feed them, and their cute little noses peeked through the crack in the door, happy to see who they thought was going to be K. and D. I am happy that cats probably can't feel disappointment, but then again they were fine once they realized I was the food lady. D. suggested I might want to play with them while I was there, and I even made some attempts to wave around that mouse on a stick that they have...but to no avail. They were laser-focused on the food.

My week of poo continues Wednesday when the strongest 14-month-old on earth, my little godson, comes over to spend some quality time with me. I already have the evening planned: a walk to the park, and then a trip to Starbucks. Then at home I might even let him touch my TV, which he is banned from doing at home. Anything in the name of being his favourite!