I Claim this Land in the Name of Spain!

The wee plot of flowerbed land outside my front door has been annexed by my downstairs neighbours.

Background - I'm in a stacked condo. It's a three story building, and mine are the upper two. I have a private entrance on the ground level that opens to a stairway that brings you up to my unit. The end.

Anyway, before I moved in, the previous owners dug up a mess of wee trees and flowers, leaving behind only three or four green bushes. And, having a black thumb, I can only identify one as a hosta - the others? Not a clue. But really, I liked it that way. I'm not at all a flower person, as the scent tends to cause small imaginary hammers to pound on my brain. As well, flowers bring flying bugs, and around an entryway, I wish for bugs to be scarce.

This spring, I had planned on purchasing a couple more hostas to fill in some of the blank spaces in the bed. Until I came home a week and a half ago and found that my downstairs neighbours had planted single pansies not only in the bed in front of their bay window, but in the bed alongside my door.

On one hand, I thought, "Cheeky bastards! And also, gah, flowers!", and on the other, "Oh, look what I don't have to deal with anymore!"

My ass? It is lazy. Lazy, indeed.

So far, I am leaning towards not being irritated - the bug situation is not too bad, as of today, and as long as they continue to garden that space, hey, more power to them.

Also, it lets me think the thought "Pansy ass!" whenever I leave and come back home.

I Confess!

1. I DVRd last night's premiere episode of How to Get the Guy.
2. I am watching it right now. And I am snickering. And thinking of how it's just a high budget TLC show.
3. I may very well be taking mental notes.

I have sunk to a new low.

I Stole a Haircut. And a Random Tomato Plant Picture.

You may remember from my Episode Two recap of Canada's Next Top Model that I admit to coveting Heather's haircut.

What I may not have told you was that I had set up an appointment with my stylist and colourist, erm, 8 weeks ago, for last Saturday.

And I may have brought in the following picture with me.

Tasha was lovely enough not to make fun of me for watching completely crap reality television. Possibly because she does not share the love for the crapulence that is modern-day TV.

In fact, she was excited that I wanted to halt the growing experiment that I had going on on top of my noggin, and whipped up an amazing science experiment of colour to compliment the cut.

She's a wiz, she is.

Anyway, I give to you the before and after. We did what we could with the shorter fringe that I was already sporting, but it's pretty close, I reckon. For the colour, she applied an excellent chocolate brown with auburn undertones to even out my base and fill in the peak-a-boo highlights she gave me the last time I had my colour done. And then? With the forward pushed curtain that serves as excellent long-ass bangs? She put a series of two-tone highlights in that bit - all golden and red and tigers and bears, oh my!

Right, I said "I give to you", didn't I? So let me get right on that.

Runway ready, indeed. Except the opposite of that. That being said, I very much love it, and it brings to 1 Bargazillion the number of hairstyles I have had during my 32 years on the planet.

The new forward motion of the fringe is excellent, even if it has forced me into becoming a hair flipper so I can see. The thing is? It kind of reminds me of the fetlock on a horse, which fulfills all kinds of childhood wishes for the future that I used to hold dear.

***

As promised, Day 9:

Welcome to the Grade 1 Science Experiment on my Deck

Day one:











Day four:











Day five:














Seriously. For those familiar with my black thumb, I am as astounded as you are. Also, how much do I love time-lapse photo essays? Far too much. More tomato pictures to come. You have been warned.

CNTM - Episode #2 - "I Was Thinking That My Brain Was Going to be Pulled Out"

This week's episode opens on the girls returning to the house post-elimination. A couple of the girls talk about how easy it is for them to maintain a model weight, while Natalie, who isn't blessed with a metabolism that runs like crazy, and who isn't willing, like Heather confessed last episode, to live only on rice cakes and water, wraps her body in saran wrap in order to sweat off water weight.

Saran wrap. Saran wrap! Like a 6 foot tall jockey, but without the horse riding at the end.

One thing that I really like about this show is that it keeps pointing out the reality of the modeling industry. Well, reality if you excuse the fantasy that any of these girls could ever model in anything other then a Sears catalogue or a Wal-Mart flyer. Both the girls and the judges and modeling agency representatives talk frankly about the difference between the body size, proportion and muscle tone needed to work in the fashion industry and what is considered beautiful outside of the business. All of the girls seem to be, at least, aware of the fact that models serve one purpose: to serve as moving, breathing clothes hangers. And the show makes no excuse about that.

Tricia seems to be playing a much bigger role in this version of the show - unlike Tyre's hands-off swoop-in-make-them-cry-run-away, Tricia appears and jumps in feet first, talking and showing and mentoring. And that starts as she greats the girls the next day, at a salon in the city, for their model make-overs. She, judge Paul Venoit, her personal stylist, Greg Wencel, Gino Garcia, whom Helfer refers to as a specially flown-in colour master, and a flotilla of hair stylists and colourists attack the girls in a frenzy of snipping and bottle squeezing - well, except for Brandi, who is deemed already perfect...except for that horrible personal style issue they, correctly, keep harping on.

Heather gets an amazing hair cut that I covet, and criescriescries because of it. Perhaps its because my hair grows like a cherry tomato plant, but the crazy attachment, and the equally crazy worry about how her boyfriend will react makes me wonder if she's at all prepared the rest of the show. But, you know, it's not a make-over episode unless one of the girls freaks her shit. And even better, this show gave us two!

Tricia and her stylist had planned to give gawky Andrea hair extensions, but, due to the horrible state of her hair (man, after seeing the girl punish it with a flat iron applied directly to dry hair without using a spray-protectent, they should've known), especially after a colour lift following a self impossed previous chemical fry-up, they had to hack and hack and hack the damage away. But you know what? She went from gawky 5-year old to a confident young woman. It's amazing what a stylist who knows their shit can do. But the tears! Oh, the tears. Her excitement at finally having long hair was replaced by horror at having to go even shorter then it was when she sat in that stylists' chair to crazy love with what she ended up with. Ah, to be so young and care so deeply. I sometimes long for those days.

Tenika plays the diva card, causing Greg, in a shit-talking aside to Paul that made me love them so damn much, to remark: "I've never worked with someone so irritating and demanding in my whole career, and I've seen a lot of irritating and demanding. Trust me". Paul also tells Andrea, point blank, that she needs to buy a fashion magazine and develop a sense of style because she's an absolute disaster. It was brilliant and made my general low-level irritation with him recede to previously unheard of levels.

At the end of things, the girls definitely look more downtown and less suburban mall, but, really, I think there is nothing that anyone can do to make any one of these girls look like a top model.

Back at the house, Andrea, in shades of Anne confessing her love to Eva on America's Next Top Model, dissolved in snotty tears as she tells Tenika of her sisterly love for her. She tells her how her feelings for her mom, who is her best friend, have been transferred onto Tenika. I am looking forward to a melt-down / high-noon showdown in future episodes.

This show's photo shoot's theme is Fight Club. Unfortunately, it did not involve soap being made from human fat, but I reckon that's just too much to ask.

The girls are dressed in the hoochiest swimsuits that I have ever, ever seen in my entire life. Tricia joins them in a boxing ring, and coaches them through poses and working expression and emotion into their faces. Watching them mimic Tricia is like watching wee ducklings, waddling about, mindlessly, behind their mother. Excellent. Especially since none of them are at all able to duplicate anything on film. That's right - the results of the photo shoot are pretty much on par with those from the first episode. Stinky, stinky, stinky.

During the judging, before the one-on-one critiques, Tricia asks the girls to leave and has them return, one at a time, and forces them to choose which contestant that they feel should get the boot. Based, of course, on what they've learned thus far about the modelling industry. Ha! But whatever - when the numbers are added up, Sisi has the most votes. But what does this mean? We shall soon see.

The girls return and the critiques begin. Random comments:

• On Tenika - "The body looks experienced, but the face looks like it's your first shoot". My inner 12-year-old boy fell in love with Venoit right then and there.
• Andrea blames the extra hair on her arms on being cold. Really, though, growth of the kind of hair she has on her extremities - the peach fuzz, downy kind - only happens a body doesn't have enough body fat to keep it warm. Instead of addressing that issue, she's told to find some way to remove it.
• On Brandi: "That's messed up, girl"
• On Heather: "She's already aged in her face"

Following the critiques, Tricia reveal to the girls that Sisi received the most votes and was deemed, by them, to be the person who should be kicked off. But also that the result may not have any effect on what the judges decide. Which makes me believe, quite strongly, that the producers saw just how politely boring the girls were and that they needed to stir up some shit in the house to make for anything resembling entertaining television.

The judges deliberate, and then call the girls back in. It comes down to Dawn and Brandi, but Dawn's overall fear of the camera and of modeling in general does her in.

Random Confessional Moments

• Tenika hates Brandi and equates her to a snake, constricting around everyone to squeeze the life out of them.
• Sisi delivers an absolutely unrecognizable, but entirely hilarious, impression of Dawn. After which, she opines, "You're so fucking. Boring."

Next week, Sisi vows revenge on the girls who voted for her to leave, the super-annoying and super-fem celebrity stylist-slash-irritant Philip Bloch guest directs at the photo shoot, and the girls take part in their first runway show.

CNTM - Episode #2 - Not a Recap, but a Triumphant, and Quick, Fist into the Air

Just a quick, non-recap Hell Yeah shout. Thankfully, the show is becoming all that I wished for previously. The bitch divas are coming out, the tears are flowing, and Tricia Helfer has become a bargazillion times more personable.

Recap tomorrow!

I Have Not Yet Murdered Them

And that is surprising! In fact, THEY THRIVE.

Proof

Sunday afternoon:
















Today:
















Double the size! I am freaked out, and hoping that they are really tomato plants and not crazyass bean stalks. Because I am just no emotionally prepared for battling a giant right now. I am a delicate flower, you see.

Shut it.

23 Squidoo

I have succumbed to peer pressure and created a Squidoo lens for my Canadian Online Shopping list.

Visit and help me add to it!


Online Shopping in Canada

Skirty McSkirterson

I don't know if you've noticed, or noticed me noticing you (winkwink, hey sailor!), but I'm pretty much in love with skirts. Which means that I adore every season that isn't winter 'cause I get to wear them. Why not so much with the skirt wearing in winter? Because tights + me = hilarious, uncomfortable comedy of errors. Each and every time.

That being said, the last couple of years have been lean with the skirt-buying and me. I have not the tall stature to pull of the boho-floaty-mid-calf-to-ankle designs that have taken over store shelves of late. So when I find a lovely a-line that hits me at the knee? I do whatever I can to snap it up.

Here's the skirt I wore today. It made me feel a bit like a surf bum, though I'm not quite sure why.

I Will Feed Millions with my Cherry Tomato-y Goodness

Or, at least, this plant and it's sister will do much to fill my own belly with tomato-y goodness. Which, though selfish, is all I really want.

So there.

Another Fashiony Post

It must be a fashiony day!

Look what arrived at my house this week. Oh, BCBG, how I love you:
























As I suspected, the silk underskirt is about an inch too long, and the tulle overlay, upon with the lurvely sequins are attached, is another inch longer. My current plan is this: visit seamstress. Shorten underskirt by an inch. Have the unsequened bit of tulle cut down to where the sequins start. Same effect, no? I am possibly too afraid of the possible problems that might arise from having the tulle overlay removed, taking an inch off at the top, and reattaching it to the hem. Thoughts?

This is the skirt I wore today:

















It's by OK47, and it is one of my absolute favourites.

Shamefacedly, and yet, strangely and proudly, I now present to you my ugly new shoes. I promise to only wear them when on my deck, gardening and washing my car. I sometimes wonder about my questionable taste.

CNTM - Episode 1 - "He told me I looked like a bulldog"

Dear Canada's Next Top Model,

Where, I ask you, is the overwhelming, over the top drama and craziness? Why do I get the feeling that you didn't really do a casting call, but instead left filling the slots to, say, the day before shooting started, causing you to run out into the street and make any girl that you ran into that fit the 5'9" and over, somewhat slim, over-18-under-25 criteria? And here is my proof: a casting episode, something considered standard for ANTM, and reality competition shows in general, was no where to be seen.

As exhibit two, I give you the competitors themselves. I know I said it yesterday, but, dear Christ, there is no way in hell that you can do anything to convince me that any of these girls could make it to the pages of a Sears catalogue, let alone a high fashion runway. As well, the prevailing attitude seems not to be one of the self delusional dementia on ANTM, but one of "Hey, someone suggested I try this. I'm not doing anything else right now, so…" And, although I was initially happy that the girls on this show seem to have not yet gotten to the stage where they consider shrieking in excitement as a valid method of communication, the lack of excitement and passion, even if it's generally misguided, does not give me hope for the reality train wreck that this show is supposed to be.

Things got off to a promising start with little orange Jay Manuel greeting the girls at a lakeside hotel, forcing them to remove their make-up, snapping polaroids, and making them choose an outfit and strut down long, curvy wooden dock, which served as an excellent makeshift catwalk. And, yeah, none of the girls can really walk. But that's no surprise.

Tricia Helfer, as host, disappointed the crap out of me. So stiff! So walled off and disconnected. Sigh.

An interesting twist on this version of the show, I think, is the inclusion of representatives from the modeling company that the winner will be contracted to. They talk a lot about the physical demands on a model - not just the work, but the look and proportions that a model must live up to. Measurements going on pre-photo shoot? Check. Talk about what it is about a face that makes it photogenic? Check. Discussion about things that the girls have to change about their body and physical presentation, up front and unapologetically presented? Check. Which is really refreshing - so many people that I know who watch these types of modeling competitions don't seem to get that while some of the competitors might be real-life pretty and have real-life bodies that others might envy, to fill the job of a model, they just don't stack up.

The girls are plopped down into their first photo shoot where they're directed to channel bad-ass rock and roll chick attitudes. Seated or sprawled out on a multi-coloured, lighted disco-style dance floor, the shoots themselves are painful to watch, and the results are even worse. The only girls who don't give a photo that either looks like an over-styled yearbook graduation photo, or a Glamour-Shot studio reject are Brandi, who comes across as the most fashion-y, Ylena, who, though photogenic, looks like she's in her 30s in the image, and Sylvie, which surprised the crap out of me because that girl? Off-film looks like that girl who captained your high school's softball team before becoming queen of the stoners. Ridden hard and put away wet, indeed.

As for the other girls, well. Alanna revealed that she was a replacement for a competitor who decided not to be on the show at the last minute. It shows. Sisi and Andrea are odd looking, but not in a way that makes the camera love them. They're also both intensely awkward in front of the camera and on the catwalk. Natalie is the most masculine looking contestant, and, at least in the first photo shoot, it is definitely working against her - Jay's assertion that she looked like a bulldog had a ring of truth when her best photo was revealed. Dawn is remarkable if only for her total inability to do anything but stare like a scared rabbit into the camera lens. Heather is forgettable, even though she was deemed as having the best walk and the most symmetrical features. Tenika is a pretty girl on video, and has the kind of intense energy that is admirable, but just does not take anything close to an attractive still picture.

Unfortunately for Sylvie, the fact that she doesn't seem to give a shit about the competition in particular, and the fashion industry in general (the "So what" she gave to the judges when the commented on her super-sloppy appearance sealed the deal, sweetie) had more weight then a somewhat acceptable photo, and she given the boot. The most excellent thing about this episode, however, had to be her near-fury at being eliminated. The bitterness! The disbelief! The refusal to cry! Closest thing to the craziness that makes America's Next Top Model watchable TV.

Overall, I was underwhelmed. You know there's an issue when the only person bringing the bitch is Jay, a castmember from the parent show. Jeanne Beker, I know you're a crazy ego-maniac - I want you to get Simon Cowell on those girls! Models, I want you to get the freak-out on!

I want delivery on the hilarious drama, dammit! And I want it now!

Prediction: Brandi will win.


xo,
M.

The Stench of Model is in the Air!

Ah, Canada's Next Top Model, though you have yet to air a single episode, I am in love with you. Your America's Next Top Model pedigree, your host, Tricia Helfer, one of my favourite Canadian models, and one of the few model-actress hybrids that does both more then well (ah, Battlestar Galactica!), your co-opting of the very orange Jay Manuel as a guest judge - how can you not be a winner?

Add to that a seemingly excellent online partnership with Yahoo Canada, and all I have to say is that you will make the insanely hot and sticky summer to come enjoyable. Even more so then Rockstar: INXS did last year. And me? I will take joy in mocking recaps after every show. Especially since the competitors? Look even less like models then last season of America's Next Top Model. Daria Werbowy, Jessica Stam, and Linda Evangelista, they most deifinately are not.

JOY!

You have been warned.

So lets get down to it with a mess of introductory links:

• Canada's Next Top Model site on Yahoo.ca
• Tricia Helfer's CNTM blog - Via Yahoo 360
• CNTM Radio Station via LaunchCast
  
• CNTM discussion group on Yahoo.ca (okay, this on is even too geeky for me)
• Pictures of the models' digs via Flickr - Vancouver Island is a lovely place. But does Vancouver really support an international modelling and fashion publishing / advertising industry like Toronto?

Competitor / Judge blog listings via Yahoo 360 - currently empty:

• Alanna
• Andrea
• Brandi
• Dawn
• Heather
• Natalie
• Sisi
• Sylvie
• Tenika
• Ylenia
• Judge: Jeanne
  
• Judge: Paul
• Judge: Stacey

I am holding out hope that my ANTM boyfriend, Nigel Barker, will make an appearance. But I tend to hope that about pretty much every situation.

I am the Girl Who...

Thinks that ending a very serious business meeting with a high five is an excellent idea.

Loves excellent skirts made in even more excellent fabrics.

Skirt, worn today, by Love Life

Tries to have dark chocolate every single day.

Hates the lull between TV series ending in May and the summer oddity shows beginning in June.

Is afraid at just how bad the summer is going to get with the hot and the humid and the sweat and the gross.

Is a monkey.

Who are you?

Because I am a Copycat

And because I love the visuals, I copy the Kate and present to you, via Aharef, the DOM structure of Its A Monkey.

I Love the Smell of Diesel Exhaust in the Morning

Since the last time I waxed spoke-etic, the instances of me on my baby bike have been, well, nil. After I picked up my bike from the shop, I headed on over to NYC. And then the weather here, following my return, became all kinds of mid-autumn and rainy like a son of a bitch. Was my furnace still on and kicking in this week? Indeed, it was.

But this morning? This morning, that all changed. The first ride of the season is under my belt, and it was excellent. Well, except for the fact that the first really lovely weekend of the spring also brought out the crazys cruising garage sales. And the big old trucks driving out to construction sites, making me wish for a Michael Jackson mask as they left fumes from their exhaust pipes in their wake. But for all of the complaining, it felt good, really good, to just be out sweating in the wind and the sun.

I love the cycling. And I think it might love me.

And now for something random: MTV Canada is just airing season 2 of Laguna Beach. I nominate Jason as the biggest douche to ever make an appearance on reality TV.

Canadian Online Shopping is a Sorry, Sorry State of Affairs

So I've started to compile a list of online retailers that are either based in Canada or will ship here. And I give those links, now, to you. Please feel free to add in the comments section! And no, I haven't ordered from most of these sites. But give me the cash, and I will.

Clothing / Jewellery / Accessories - Canada

• Amy Kovach - Jewellery and accessories
  
• Big It Up - Hats
• Biko Designs - Jewellery
• Broxup Jewellery - Jewellery made o' wood
  
• Felt - Bags, gifts and housewears
• Fine and Good - Jewellery
  
• Flyball Bags - Bags
• Girly Things - Jewellery
• Jeweliette - Jewellery and accessories
• Made You Look - Jewellery
  
• Marshall's Clothing Company - Clothing from many a-label
• Melissa Beth Designs - Laptop bags and tech gear
• Missy Industry - Jewellery
  
• Mountain Equipment Co-Op - Clothing and gear for the out of doors
• Mudshark Streetwear - Urban fashion from Canadian, and other, designers
• Paper-doll - Fashionable streetwear from Canadian designers
• Purple and Pink - Jewellery
• Shi Studio - Textile-based jewellery
  
• Sick on Sin - Clothing, buttons, magnets and the like covered in graphics from the artist behind Orneryboy.
  
• Snazzy Girl - All kinds of purty things from independent, often Canadian, designers
• Soos - Jewellery
  

Cosmetics - Canada

• Beautymark - Cosmetics and bath products
• Blossom Bath and Body Inc - Cosmetics and bath products
• B Skin - Bath and body products
  
• Cake Beauty - Bath and body products
• It's About Me - Cosmetics and bath products
• Lush - Bath and body products
• The Make-up Bar - Cosmetics
• Quorra Apothecary - Cosmetic and bath products
  
• Skindazzles - Handmade bath and body products

Foodstuffs and Kitchen Things - Canada

• Bernard Callebaut - Oh, chocolate
• Cards and Presents LTD - Fiestware and the like
  
• Chocolate Planet - Oh, chocolate. Again
• City Chef - Make your own damn food
• JS Bonbons - Again with the chocolate. Are you noticing a theme?
• Thomas Haas - Fine, fine chocolate
• Old Dutch Potato Chips - Truly the finest chips ever made
• Queen of Tarts - Only sells gingerbread cookies online, but, dude, they fucking rock with the shapes.
• Wild Sweets - Chocolate of the more experimental variety
  

Housewares / Stationary / Gifts - Canada

• In House Products - Housewares
• Meigo - Gifts of all sorts
  
• Mirage Paper Co - Stationary
• Plush Home and Design - Pillows
• Tigo - Excellent gifts made o' suede

Online sites based in the USA - will ship to Canada

• The Body Bakery - Bath and body products
• The Body Perfumery - Bath and body products
  
• Cooking.com - Seriously, you need me to describe this?
• Lucky Scent - Perfume
  
• Pasuptina - Necklaces made of the most amazing beads I've ever seen
  
• Pink Icing - Clothing and accessories
• Sephora - Cosmetics, bath and body products
  
• Shoes.com - Shoes. Dot com.
  

All I Need is a Life to Match the Clothes

Remember a few months ago when I fell in love with a lurvely chocolate brown sequined BCBG skirt that I found on EBay? Remember when I was outbid on that skirt, and reacted with dramatic tears and pretend fist shaking?

I do. And I clapped with glee when that skirt, this time in inky black, came up for auction this week.

Guess what will be making a home in my closet when it arrives at my house next week? Lookee!





















Of course, I reckon I'll have to find me a clever seamstress to shorten it a wee bit, to make it hit as high at the knee as it does on the leggier-then-I mannequin, but, damn, I am delighted.

I also have no place to wear it. Would someone please help me do something about that?

Ohhh, Just Like Mom Used to Make!

Okay, not so much make, more like "cover my pillows with".

Perhaps that calls for an explanation. Or perhaps not, and I will leave you in a state of mystery! But then you will call Mystery Inc, and they'd not only solve it, quick-like and crazily, but the case would also probably end up with a crotchety old man behind bars.

So tell you, I shall.

Last night, Brad and I ate at the Rice Bar (Note: their site seems to be down right now, but it's worked for me in the past). Upon entering the building, I saw some interesting textile art displayed on one of the walls. And my interesting textile art, I mean a series of 70s-style pillowcases strung up on a piece of rope.

Two caught my eye. Why? Because even though one was in green, and the other was in pink, I could tell that they were the missing siblings of the blue and orange sheet sets that my brother and I had when we were kids.

Here - I circled the one of the cases that I'm talking about. Stiped body! Floral boarder! Oh, my.









Thanks to Eye for capturing the wall! Now go and read their review of the place.

And no thanks to people not setting up a sheet set archive site. Because Googling "stripes" "floral" "pillow" "sheet" "70s" doesn't return nothin' but crap.

Also, the food? Very much excellent, my friends. I had the brown basmati with pan fried tofu, asparagus, soy and ginger sauce, and toasted garlic.

To: Rosemary

From: Melissa
Subject: Your ill advised decision to get off the Q-Tip train

Just what do you think you're doing? You're willing to leave John Cusack scene recreations behind you?
















I am aghast. In fact, I don't even know who you are anymore.


Bonus link: Read about the life of the Better off Dead Camaro post-production

Flushing with Pride

Dr Plumber, report to Home Depot, STAT!

Ah, emergency plumbing, how I both love and revile you. Last night, in particular, with the love and revilement. Why? Because the toilet that I'll be chucking out following the July bathroom renovation has developed a slow fill problem. In order to combat the issue, last night at around 6:30PM, I got me a screwdriver and started adjusting the screw that controls the water level in the tank on the float (no, not THAT kind of toilet related float. You have a dirty mind).

Turn, turn, SNAP, what the hell?

15 year old plastic breaks far to easily, I think. And I was faced with no longer a slow, continual fill, but a balls-to-the-wall rushing continual fill.

Excellent. If by excellent you mean GoodGodDamn. And I do.

I dropped to the floor, and turned off the water supply to the commode, and ran to call Home Depot to see if they were still open. Thankfully, those suckers know that suckers like me tend to plan badly and attempt repairs at stupid times, and had set store hours to accommodate. And so I ran over, bought a new float mechanism, and returned to my home, sitting on the floor, reading the installation directions.

1) Turn off water and empty tank. Dude, already done.
2) Uninstall old float mechanism. With a little muscle and a monkey wrench, check!
3) Mop up all the water that streamed onto the floor from its hiding place in the tank when you were trying to empty it. Ha, great. Check.
4) Install new float mechanism. Check.
5) Turn on water. Done, and done.
6) Flush toilet far too many times for the following reasons: too much pride at having performed a sucessful surgery; paranoia that none of the parts have been screwed in tightly enough, resulting in flooding fear. To date, flooding has been successfully averted.
7) Shake fist at toilet for the need to fix something that will be smashed to pieces in a few short months.

Me = MASTER PLUMBER.

The end.

On anyone else, this would not be cute, nor endearing.

But on Kiefer Sutherland, drunken Christmas Tree tackling? Somehow, adorable.



Direct link: Kiefer Sutherland, taking exception to a Christmas Tree topper because it called him a pussy - YouTube video

The Renovation Diaries: It's a Go!

After finally getting estimates back from all of the companies that I brought in to take a look at my bathroom, I settled on and signed a contract with the one that made me feel the most comfortable. Hot damn!

I'm very excited about the vanity that will be eventually living in there, even if the custom cabinetry is going to be at least 8 weeks before it comes down the line. So much so that I drew a picture in MS Paint for you.























The cabinet will be made of maple, and stained in a brown/black with the excellent stain-name o' Espresso. The pulls will be long and thin and stainless steel. Two drawers, to doored cabinets, and two large open spaces beneath the drawers. The best, though? It will be suspended from the wall. Suspended!

The top will be in a formica (I know, but the marble? Mad pricey. Especially for a place that I don't intend on dying in) called Mineral Spa, a bone with darker bone flecks that make it look like a natural stone.

Check it:





















The top will have square edges, and butt up right against the wall without a backsplash, which, I think, will make my stupidly angled wall on the right side of the vanity look lovely. Not to mention how excellent my sink will look on top of it.

I can't wait for July!

This Ass? It is Made of Pansies.

The crazy rain has made me reschedule tonight's dinner. Because the traffic driving into the city? Too much for me to take.

I am a horrible friend, I reckon. Whoops?

BlogHerNorth - Can I Get a Hell Yeah?

Previously, on It's a Monkey (and MyNameIsKate.ca), the notion of a geek-ass (BlogHerCan!) shoot-off BlogHer conference in Toronto was discussed.

Today, the planning process got itself publically kicked off.

Visit BlogHerNorth.org. Register. Keep up-to-date on the happenings. And then come up to kick it (ha, I said "kick it". I so hip. Ow, my hip hurts) in the fall!

***

Completely unrelated, I'll be a-dining at Rice Bar, Brock Shepherd's (formerly of Azul) newish place, tomorrow night. Neither I, nor my lovely Brad-type companion, have been there before. I know one of you Toronto and area kids must've in the near past. Personal reviews would be greatly appreciated.

I am now wondering what it is with me and grain-based food named food places this month. Bread Bar, Rice Bar...I feel like I must hunt down an Oatmeal Bar to round out the experience.

Iron Chef America, Battle: What the Fuck?

Having been unleashed from my chatty shackles of not chatting about the Susur Lee v. Bobby Flay battle on Iron Chef America that aired on FoodTV Canada this weekend, I find myself with little to say. Except, seriously, what the fuck? Okay, and also: Seriously, what the fuck.

The result? Battle: Bacon = A tie.

Ties? They stink. Especially when the judges expressed the following sentiments over and over regarding Lee's work: amazing and interesting. But interesting in a "toooooooo crazy for TV!" kind of way. Lee and Flay tied scores on flavour, and Lee was awarded more points for originalty, but lost out to Flay's standard and boring plating.

Granted, I may be more then a little biased, what with Lee being my chef crush, and my historical belief that Flay is an asshat of monumental proportions, but please. Giving Flay higher plating marks was insane. Look at the plates that were set down on my table on my last visit to Susur, and you tell me who knows plating. Susur knows plating, that's who.

For your reading pleasure, here are a few articles and interviews with Lee surrounding the Iron Chef experience:

• Macleans.ca - Iron Man Susur Lee
  
• Sceneandheard.ca: Will Susur's Cuisine Reign Supreme?
• Globeandmail.com - Susur Lee Fails to Slay Bobby Flay

Hospitality Blogging, NYC

Because a few of you out there have been remiss in viewing the Susur Lee Iron Chef America episode that aired this weekend, I am restraining myself from talking about it here. But confidential to you slackers: That shit won't watch itself.

So why don't I talk a bit more about NYC? Don't mind if I do. Unfortunately, no pictures as I left my camera at home, but it my Thursday Brad's Birthday Dinner plans go as planned, I'll hopefully have an excellent food photo essay for you by the end of the week.

And so we begin...

I stayed at an excellently pretentious hotel called Hotel QT. No "the". Darkly lit corridors, and even darker elevators. I had to stoop and almost smash my nose against the panel to figure out where the button for my floor was. It was a hipster haven, it was, and it was wonderful. I think my most favourite thing about it was the wee fridge (NOT an honour bar, an empty wee fridge!) that was built into the bathroom vanity. But more on that later.

After getting settled at the hotel, I headed out to fill my belly at Zen Palate, and excellent and reknowned vegan / vegetarian restaurant and cafe. I had the assorted steamed vegetables with red and brown rice, and a couple of amazing rice paper taro rolls.

Afterwards, I headed on over to the Food Emporium, to stock up on supplies - organic yogurt, Bare Naked granola, natural peanut butter and massive amounts of fruit - to fill that wee fridge. There's nothing better then being able to have breakfast with having to pay attention to your appearance in order to make an appearance at a restaurant. Not to mention having excellent fruit snacks available throughout the day.

That evening, I met up with friends at Bar Nine. It was a relaxed, casual place that was pretty cool, until a jazz fusion band took the stage. Porn bass (you heard me right - porn bass)? Thank, you, but no.

The next day, I lunched at the vegetarian restaurant and tea house Franchia. The warm vegetables in cold rice paper rolls and spicy mustard sauce, accompanied by a salad with creamy citrus dressing, were the perfect counterpoint to an unseasonably warm, though beautiful, afternoon. The surroundings were absolutely serene and lovely, and I was refreshed.

For dinner, I returned to the vegan raw food restaurant, Pure Food and Wine, but visited their Take Away storefront instead. I revisited their excellent vegan sushi and tried out their spicy thai lettuce rolls. Excellent, if a bit messy, and definitely good enough to make me accidentally purchase a Eat Raw, Live Long t-shirt. Which may also have tickled my double entendre fancy.

That evening, I met up with friends at the Beauty Bar. Outfitted like a beauty parlor, with a manicurist on staff, the place was awesome. And had glittery paint stripes on the walls!

On Friday, the conference catered in lunch, and damn, did they do it right. All of the food was organic, and all but 2 options were vegetarian as well! I had a couple of vegetarian sushi hand rolls, red lentil salad, carrot salad, raw hierloom baby carrots and steamed asparagus.

The first part of the evening, was spent Gstaad. Again with the hipster mood lighting, this time in the unisex bathrooms, but the rest of the place really appealed to my love of clean lines and urban un-clutter. PS: Swiss! But no cheese. Or watches. Or knives. I wish to see a rumble involving cheese. And watches. And knives.

Dinner was at Bread Bar at Tabla, which I had visited on my last visit to the city. Because that place? I was still occasionally having dreams about it. The food is served family / tapas style, and was just as excellent as my previous visit. We ordered Saag Paneer Pizza, which did crazy things to my tastebuds, channa masala, onion rings, baby bok choy pakoras, yogurt pilaf rice, 2 naans (rosemary and garlic), and an order of tandoori calamari.

Saturday's food haul was disappointing in comparison. Lunch at Au Bon Pain at Laugardia? Don't even look at me, you sad pile of foodstuffs, you.

Running on Empty

What is it about traveling that is so very exhausting? I was so pleased to be able to sleep in my own bed last night, but it made me realize just how very, very tired I was. And am.

Which brings me to my current dilemma. I purchased the most horribly tacky and hilarious birthday present for Brad: the scrolling LED belt buckle!





















I want to preprogram it, but my brain is slamming up against a brick wall. Help?

Did New York Eat You Alive?

No, no, but, goddamn, has it kept me busy. And happy. Which, let me tell you, surprises me, as NYC has a tendency to make me feel compressed and hateful with the rushing and too many people in not enough space.

The Good Experience Live conference was amazing. Mark Hurst of Creative Good was one of the best hosts that I have ever encountered, and though a few of the speakers were outside of my area of interest, a number stick out as people that I'd pay to see speak again. Hell, that I'd pay to sit down at a table and have a coffee with. Because I am a librarian, here is a link list of those people:

• Danny Brown - maker of crazy-ass films
• Geoffrey Canada - Harlem Children's Zone
• Jason Fried - 37 Signals
• Seth Godin - Dude
• Ji Lee - The Bubble Project
• Jane McGonigal - Avant Game
• Erin McKean - New Oxford American Dictionary, Verbatim magazine, A Dress a Day
• Mark Salem - Mentalist

Add on to that amazing weather that allowed me to stomp about the city every day, excellent restuarants (Pure Food and Wine's take-away joint, Zen Palate, Franchia, and the Bread Bar at Tabla), awesome shopping, and most importantly, and most fun, getting to spend time every evening with the most excellent people ever.

EVER.

It makes me sad to have to hop on a plane this morning. It really was that excellent of a trip.

The Streets in New York Are Busy and Loud

I am in possession of the gift of stating the obvious. I'm seven floors up in my hotel on 45th St, and I keep being awoken by car horns and people barking like dogs. Oh, those crazy theatre goers!

My hotel is so very pretensious and excellent, I can't even begin to tell you. I am sad that in an effort to "pack light" I left my camera at home.

While foraging for food after check in, I walked down 45th, and came across a massive gathering at Broadway. People from all sides of the street were standing, neck crained, excited, with cameras at the ready, at a flotilla of parked black SUVs and a whole department of police officers surrounding them. Because I am nosey, I accosted someone with a walkie talkie and asked what everyone was waiting for.

"Tom Cruise", he said.
"Fucking Tom Cruise" I muttered, and ran away, very quickly, so that Cruise wouldn't have the opportunity to make me a baby carrying Scientologist fiance.

End Day One summary.

Keep Your Pimp Hand Strong

I give to you Pimp My Snack. A piece of UK brilliance, the kids chattering in the Pimp My Snack forums goad each other into creating homemade, crazy ass huge versions of store-bought snack foods, documenting the process from ingredients to comparison photo finale.

Take a look at some of my favourites.

• Ultimeight
• The Fistful of Fudge
• The King Rolo

I fear this site because it gives me ideas. I love this site because it gives me ideas.

You Found Out...I've Got a Crush. On. You.

Before we start, a bit of housekeeping: Blogger has improved it's comment-spam-blocking powers, so I've up and changed the comment feature on It's A Monkey. You no longer have to be a registered user to comment, but still have to use the enter-this-random-word verification to post.

***

Some of you may be wondering why I haven't mentioned Rick Springfield's performance on the Daytime Emmy Awards on Friday. Let me just say that I only recently pulled out of the swoon it put me in. See for yourself, why don't you?

Note: the below links will open up an html page with an imbedded media player, but will not automatically start playing the clip. So press start, already.

Springfield Daytime Emmy Performance - Before the opening credits roll (Windows Media file)
Springfield Daytime Emmy Performance - Post opening credits (Windows Media file)

I must stop talking about it before I fall into swoon again.

***

My chef crush, Susur Lee, will be battling proven asshat Bobby Flay on Iron Chef America on Food TV Canada this Wednesday, at 9PM EST.

I have no idea when the show is set to air in other areas, as Foodtv.com's ICA page seems to not want to reveal that information. Sigh. But seriously, I implore you to watch.

Oh, Susur. I wish for you to cook every morsel of food that I will ever eat for me from now on until the end of time, the end.

***

And finally, the a killer bunny from the Monty Python Plush Toy line.

Push for the Cure

What's more attractive then four men, skateboarding from Halifax, NS to Vancouver, BC, with a goal to raise $1,000,000 for Breast Cancer awareness and research?

Nothing, I reckon. Added bonus: they'll be documenting their journey on their website, www.pushforthecure.com.

Please visit their site, think about donating, and supporting these silly boys on their tour: Push for the Cure

Oh, Deer!

Okay, so I still have to reinforce the antlers, and finish off the edges and overhang backs, but the deer? She is nearly done. And she is 16" x 16".

With flash, so you can see the shiny finish:






















And without, so you can see more detail:

The Post Where I Really Out Myself as a Geek

I don't very often talk about work here, because, for some reason, that seems more private then my private life, or the odd things that tend to go on inside my head that I, without warning, unleash into YOUR head on this here blog. In fact, I think I might only really talk about the job when it allows me to head out to excellent and/or horrid places. Because excellence, horror and excellent horror? They're fun to talk about.

I'll be heading off to Manhattan next week to do get in a few days of professional development conference attendance. And I'm excited. Unlike other learn-learn-learn events, this one, Good Experience Live 2006, is a mash-up of experiences if I ever saw one. The first day consists of a field trip, daggumit. I may have clapped my hands together in glee when I found out that I was registered for my first choice - a small attendance seminar with Phil Terry from Creative Good, who is, as they say, "the industry's first and oldest customer experience firm".

Yes, this makes me a geek. For the glee, for ranking Phil's seminar first, and for not being disappointed that it didn't fill up before they handed out my first day field trip assignment, leaving me with, say, my second choice, the Real Cacao Tour & Tasting experience, lead by Sarah Endline of sweetriot. Even though I think the chocolate experience will have better samples.

I can't wait to hear Phil's take on current methods of customer experience design, and how it meshes into all other aspects of development and company-customer interaction. Hi, I = geek. Confidential to Kate: Wikiwikiwiki, BLOG.

Oh, also: shopping, restaurants and friends. But you already knew that.

Waxing Spoke-etic

This week, I brought my bicycle in for its spring tune-up, because the spring? She has come. And the bike? It longs to be ridden. And my head? It needs to be in a body that is stretching its limits in the out of doors.

Working out, inside only, for the past six months have made me itchy to feel the wind and the sun (through SPF 45 sunscreen, of course) on my skin.

Here is my baby:















Heavy as an anvil, and, indeed, an entry level mountain bike only, but shiny and lets me make it go fast, like the devil was chasing after us with a knife and fork.

Thing is, the fact that she feels like she is filled with concrete is something that I love. Because when I finally get it together and get my sweet ass a real road bike, a real road bike that I can ride against other people, I will fly.

Today: Random for Random's Sake

Today, I recieved an email from my mom that opened with the exclaimation, "Holy crap"! I feel like I've accomplished (inculcated) something.

***

Today, Kate explained to me the currently in vogue (en vogue?) term "long tail". Well, in vogue if you're a freak who likes to plot things on graphs. And who blogs. And probably blogs about plotting things on graphs.

"So if the graph was a haircut, the long tail would be like a rat-tail. And that graph would probably be a warm-up pant wearing asshole."

In attempting to find an image of the rat-tail haircut, I came across the blog Ill Communication, and a post that made use of a possible Danish proverb.

"A bad haircut is two people's shame".

Truer words have never been spoken.

So, for your viewing pleasure:





Yeah, I don't even know what to say about Rat-Tail's companion. Except that I am shocked and amazed and a little delighted.

***

I gots nothing else today, kids. My bad.

Roche Dehors Avec Votre Robinet Dehors

Who said bands from Quebec couldn't rock the socks off your ass? Why you would wear socks on your ass is immaterial, because, really, the kids in Quebec? They are friends with the Rock, and they like to deliver it to you.This week, I came into possession of the self titled CD from A Plot Against Me. Brooding and intense and sexy and fun - in short, the record that I had wished that Queens of the Stone Age had turned loose as a follow-up to their self titled Man's Ruin release, instead of the disappointing Rated R.

Added bonus? Blindingly neon pink cover art.


Go listen to samples on their MySpace page. And then come back to thank me.

While you're at it, head on over to Jeremie Saindon's bit o' the interweb to view the video for Tricky Woo's "First Blush". And clap with glee to see Adrian playing alongside Andy. And realize that all is right with the world.

PS: Altavista Babel Fish translation = hilarious miscommunication. Can you guess what this post's subject is supposed to be in English?

Mystery Cake

Opening my car door on Thursday morning, I was greeted with the scent of what seemed to be buttercream icing. Artificial, with a chemically undertone, but buttercream icing nonetheless.

"My car smells like cake! Why the fuck does my car smell like cake? There is no cake in my car."

Aside from the disappointment of the lack of car-cake, I was stumped as to just what was causing the, admittedly, not unpleasant aroma. I wondered if I had some kind of crazy-ass leak and postulated that my car had a component that ran on pastry. I checked the ground underneath my car to see if there was a lovely puddle of icing underneath. Alas, there was not. I cracked the hood to see if there was a spray of icing on the underside of the hood. Again, no dice.

And the scent? It just wouldn't go away. All day Thursday, all day Friday, all day...wait, not on Saturday. Because my excellent brain finally made the connection to what that chemical undertone was.

"Solvent!" it screamed. And the, embarrassingly, it whispered, "You have a mini container of car touch-up paint in your glove box".

Indeed, there was. And, indeed, it had sprung a wee leak. Plastic-y car paint, you smell like cake, and, thankfully, stick to not much of anything but yourself and your container.

Still, the disappointment of not having mystery cake in my car? She is crushing.

Sinus Say What?

Memo to: Barometric Pressure

I have a beef with you. You know you give me a headache when, all Three Faces of Eve-esque, you make a quick-ass change and bring the rain.

Why do you do it? What makes you so cruel?

I had plans for Monkey Yoga this evening, and the thought to contorting while the sinuses in my head rage against your pressure made me nauseous.

I hope you're happy.

Aresanob

I love it when the web and TV collide. This week, Veronica Mars was directed to PayPal payment to an informant, and CSI: NY's Det. Stella Bonasera used a generic looking search engine to look for a term an artist boyfriend named a work of art, based on her, used to name the piece. The resulting return, www.aresanob.com, made her pull a face of horror, disgust and betrayal.

And I know why.

Not because that she (spoiler type) saw herself getting nekkid in bed with the artist, unknowingly videotaped, but because when you load up www.aresenabo.com, a commercial for next week's episode loads up, and she realized that she has to play opposite of scuzzy Kid Rock.

It's enough to turn anyone's stomach, I reckon.

Where Were You When I Was A Horse-Crazed Child?

I'm sure my parents thank God that you didn't exist when I was a child. But me? I shake my fist at you, and my inability to travel through time and take you back to wee little me.

Sour at the Core

So, after a period off air, wherein MuchMusic purchased the string of channels that previously purchased the broadcast license in Canada, MTV is back on the air. The difference this time around? The channel is freely accessible if you have an upgraded basic cable package - think adding the first tier of specialty channels - and has a legal mandate to air anything but music videos.

This means, of course, that all the crazy "reality" shows I've only heard my American friends talk about are now accessible to my prying eyes.

This weekend, I sat through a number of episodes of the trainwreck My Super Sweet 16. The show chronicles the horridly parented children of rich parents as they, monster-like, demand and demand and whine and cry and demand and demand the party to end all parties to celebrate turning 16. Some of these events meet the $500,000 mark, when the various cars and jewels are added in, but really, I think the cost of the event, hell, the cost of the way the parents of these awful children have raised them, and continue to reinforce their behaviour, is uncountable.

Entitlement, you make me fear for the days to come. I can only hope that these children have a violent and shaking wake-up call in their near future.

On the Subject of: Project Catwalk

So last post, I might have alluded to the fact that my seperate geek loves hardly ever collide. I apologize for this, as it was a BALD FACED LIE.

In recent years, my love for television, for horrid, trainwreck reality television, and my adoration for the world of fashion have collided in the most satisfactory of manners.

On these shores, it started with the intensely awful Supermodels, hosted by Myles from Bella, and produced by the people who gave you Popstars (hellloooo, Sugar Jones!). The hunt for a Canadian Supermodel! Holy crap.

A few years later, US television followed suit and put together some excellent craziness. For your browsing satisfaction, I give to you:

. America's Next Top Model - Now in it's 6th cycle
. Project Runway - Recently completed season 2, casting for season 3
. Manhunt: The Search for America's Most Gorgeous Male Model - Only a single, horrifying season, but I never missed an episode

And now, the lovely folks at Canada's LifeNetwork have seen fit to air the first season of Project Catwalk, the UK version of Project Runway. Ben De Lisi is no Tim Gunn, Elizabeth Hurley looks tight and drawn in the face like a 3-pack a day smoker, and the inclusion of an invisible narrator adds naught but annoyance, but I swear to God, I am gobbling up this show like it is sweet, sweet candy. How can you not love a show that puts crazy Isabella Blow in charge of the first challenge - a garden party frock made from materials purchased at a garden store.

The only thing that would make me happier about this show, aside from Tim Gunn sweeping in and telling everyone to Make It Work, would be if either the SkyOne or Life microsites invested the time or the effort to created the incredible online experience that Bravo's Project Runway's site does. I want Blogs and Podcasts and images of all of the clothing designed in all of the episodes. I want to be able to interact online with elements of the show. Dammit, I want the networks to feed my TV Fashion addiction!

Is that too much to ask?

When Categories of Geekdom Collide

Yes, I have categorized my aspects of geekdom. Because, really, would it be geekdom if I didn't? See also: Master degree in Library and Information Science. The categories. So calming. Who needs to pet a dog when you can put things in tidy little boxes, and then put those boxes in order? And cross reference them all?

But I digress. Last night, while watching 24, my TV geekdom met my fashion geekdom, and I was delighted. Audrey Raines, portrayed by Kim Raver (holy crap, what an excellent name. It makes me want to page Dr Rave Kid, STAT, and wave it in front of her, all taunting like), wore a white version of my Mackage winter coat!

It gave me a completely unneeded feeling of fashion vindication. Because my love for that coat knows no bounds, and I have never doubted its purchase. But still? Vindication! What?

It also might have made me wonder how the hell she dealt with the heat in that thing. Because, seriously, if I find it warm in the dead of winter in Southern Ontario, I can't imagine how deadly hot it would've been to wear it in Los Angeles in the early fall.

Dear John Hodgman: I Love You.

If I was to recommend a life handbook to people, it would be this book. So I will.

Dear people: You need a life handbook. You need useful information about ninjas and werewolfs and hobos. You need The Areas of My Expertise by John Hodgman.

Confidential to you people: Sometimes, when snorting at the hilarity, I feel like what I'm reading is somewhat familiar. And I start to wonder if Hodgman inserted those cameras that he denies placing in his books in the works of the authors that he greenlighted. And I wonder if I read those books. And I wonder if I did something embarrasing that those "non-existant" cameras might have captured on film.

Now, go visit the Hodgman Blog.

That is all.

Fables of the Green Forest

Last month, I started a five part Fables of the Green Forest series of my 3-D collage art with a sparrow.
















Today, I finished off the foundation, 3-D bits of the series, and will be starting to add colour and definition to them all tomorrow!

Here's a tree:




























A fox:


















A gull in flight:


















And finally, a deer:

That's What She Said

Kate, over at My Name is Kate (who knew?) has a freaking great idea. Bring BlogHer North!

Damn. And also, straight.

As much as I'd love to wing my way to Cal-i-forn-eye-ay to conference it up, I don't think its in the cards for this year. And what do the resourceful do when they can't make it out to the fun? They make the fun come to them.

BlogHer Conference in Toronto? Don't mind if I do.

If you're interested taking part, please head on over to My Name is Kate to read about how we can get this thing off the ground.


Technorati Tags: BlogHerNorth, BlogHer, conferences, mesh06, women+speakers, women+bloggers, Canadian+bloggers, Web2.0

Holy Crap!

Or, there's a toilet in my guest room.

Remember way back in February when I had a birthday (warning: obligatory link back to crazy awesome birthday dinner)? And my excellent parents bought me a toilet for my upcoming bathroom renovation for my birthday gift?

Right, so that toilet has been living in a box in their living room, due to the fact that in the winter, things like snow and weather grossness happens in this part of the world. That is, UNTIL TODAY. My dad and brother just dropped that sucker off, and we carried it up to live in it's temporary home in my guest room. Still in it's box. And the bruises I can already see forming on my legs from the banging of the box as we hefted it up-stairs? Totally worth it.

The end.

Robot Cuisenaire

Seriously, the french translation of food processor rules extremely. A culinary robot! Hot damn!

By the way, this is my way of announcing that I finally gots me an insane new ROBOT CUISENAIRE. Hello, KitchenAid! Hello 2 cup more capacity! Hello 745 watt motor! Hello Peabut Butter World Domination!





















Anyway, I bought my new little robot at a store called Up Close, which, as far as I can see, is a chain owned by The Source (nee: Circuit City). Bonus #1: they were $70 cheaper then those on offer at The Bay or Sears. Bonus #2: because of overstock issues, the chrome, which was the one that I actually wanted, was further discounted another $40.

I like to pretend that I actually made money on the purchase.

Have I told you that I am an incurable shopping rationalizer?

I am a little sad that I don't have anything that needs processing (ROBOTING) today. I may have to make something up so I can get it whirring (ROBOTING). While I do the robot to the funky beat that I know it's going to make when turned on.

Breakin'!

Easter Chocolate Tends to Taste like Ass

And not ass of the hot buttered variety, either. But as a child, I devoured them with much aplomb, even though I suspect the chocolate? At least 75% plastic. There was something primeval about attacking a poor, defenseless bunny, and eating them, beginning at the ears, alive.

I get the same feeling when I look at this Easter truffle collection from Moonstruck Chocolates.





















I've never ever tried a morsel from the company, and yet when I look at these, all I can do is long. And whine. And wish for an American to send them to me.

PS: I am THIS CLOSE to purchasing a new food processor. I meant to today, but Linens and Things didn't have the freaking 12 cup KitchenAid that I wanted. In fact, they might have told me to take my 20% off coupon and fuck right off. The hunt continues tomorrow, when I will hopefully have much better acquisition news to report.

It Was Like an Episode of Lost

But totally not.

On the Edmonton - Hamilton leg of my flight home today, I sat across the aisle from a corrections officer. Who sat beside a prisoner being transported. In ankle and wrist shackles. Who sat in front of another corrections officer.

It made me think about how, if the plane went down, it would probably be in the middle of Manitoba. And it would be damn cold. And the polar bears? Would probably be real. A little of their beaten path, but real nonetheless. And I was disappointed. Especially since neither Choooorlie from Party of Five (you know he will ALWAYS be Choooorlie from Party of Five) nor Sayid nor Sawyer or Jin were seated anywhere near me.

And then I opened up my book (the latest Max Barry) and plugged into the on-air entertainment system, and whiled away the hours until we landed.

There were SUVs with flashing lights awaiting the prisoner transport on the tarmac. And no polar bears.

The end.

Grey. Rain. Yes, I am Still in Vancouver

But even with the grey and the drizzle, I really am starting to feel something for this city. If this city was a boy, it would be making me think about planning, say, two or three weeks ahead instead of taking it day by day.

Not a lot of cities make me feel this way. Not a lot of cities feels, well, right when you're smack dab in the middle of it. In fact, I can count those cities that do on one hand. And I hope they're not too angry about adding another member to the small, exclusive harem that they are in my head.

Anyway, back to the grey and the rain. That's what it's like today. But the city? Well aware of the depressive end to it's personality. And the people here? They just work around it, not complaining, but not tiptoeing around the fact either. This is the only place by that I've been where hotels stock a free to use umbrella in every room. It's also the only place I've visited where upscale boutiques like Betsey Johnson and Coach place galvanized steel milk buckets inside their doors in order to provide a lovely parking space for those umbrellas.

The only thing that I hate about being here is the time difference - just enough to make me want to look for my bed when the evening here is just about to start. And just enough to make my body wake up, ready to start the day, when most people are just stumbling on home from a night out.

Speaking of such, I need to crawl into bed. Until tomorrow, kids.

Hey You, I Know You! I Know You!

I know you! Seriously, I don't even remember what 80's movie I'm quoting, but I can hear the sing-song way the lines above were delivered, and can see the pointing finger dance that goes with it.

That being said, not only is one of my favourite profs from library school (Indexing and Classification. Which makes we wonder why I was suprised to see him on the presenter list) giving a seminar at the Information Architecture Summit this weekend, but someone that I had an Archiving class with, who is currently enrolled in the PhD program at my old school, is presenting a paper as well.

Holy crap, I said. And then tracked them down to say hello.

Today, thinking of the random strangers, along with kids from my Masters program that I haven't talked to in the four years that have passed since graduation, I have come to the conclusion that I really don't have a shred of shyness left in me. Which, I think, people from my past-past would totally and completely think I was lying about.

Okay, back to the conference, kids.

There's Pocky in my Mini Bar!

That must mean that I'm in Vancouver. And still on EST time!

Here's a picture of the morning city from my balcony:

It's Like Being A Polygamist

But a secret one, very much completely not like the happenings on Big Love. More like the ones that you see on documentaries on A&E. But without the actual polygamy. So it's not actually like being a polygamist at all.

For the next few days, I will be running between two houses, mine own, and my parents, because crazy Zoloft needs a dog sitter, and as a big sister of sorts, it falls to me. Unfortunately, the sweet fur face is set in her ways, and would become a terror if forced to stay anywhere but at her own home. So the zooming about from house to house is nothing but inevitable.

I think I disappoint her, though, I have to tell you. For not being my doting parents, and merely raising an eyebrow when she's all LOOK AT ME! LOOK AT ME! I am counting down the hours until she pulls out the run into the middle of the room, pounce at nothing, check to see if I'm watching and then chase her tail ploy.

She's predictable like that.

I Am Yogurt's Bitch

I have a mess of things to do before I set off for a dog sitting stint at my parents' place. Amoungst them are making yogurt. Through the wonders of technology, I now sit at my kitchen table, a measuring cup full of hot milk perched beside me, thermometer immersed in its depths, waiting for it to cool the hell down.

I am yogurt's bitch. I would never make it in prison.

The Most Excellent Thing I've Looked at Today

I know, I've already posted another image from this shoot, but, DUDE! Tim & Andrae at Red Lobster? It's the stuff spinoffs are made of.

There's Nothing Wrong with Love

Years ago, a friend introduced me to a record that completely and utterly freaked my shit. Built to Spill's There's Nothing Wrong with Love hit my head and my heart in a way that few things have before or since. And the tragedy? They've never played a show in Toronto. Ever.

Which is one of the reasons that I'm so very excited to be heading down to New York in May. Along with an excellent conference to attend (check out Thursday's "experience" tours), and an awesome hotel to stay at, weather hopefully better then we had my last visit into the city, and incredible friends to catch up with (and hopefully tempt one or two to trek into the city from points nearby as well), dear, lovely Built to Spill is playing at the Irving Plaza as well.

Oh, my. Oh, my, indeed.