Just Call Me Angelina Jolie

Because adoption is the new pregnancy, which is the new black. That's right, today I welcomed a new member into my family.



The stock photo doesn't do her justice, I think. Especially since she's fancied herself up and changed saddle and handlebar wrap colour from black to silvery-grey.

Yes, I love the fact that I'm going to be riding something with the word GIANT written on it.

I am so ready to hop on top (on pop) and go for a ride, but it is snowing like a son of a bitch. So, I brought her inside with me instead. Because I want to be near her, and because I haven't had the time to break the news of our new addition to my mountain bike. And I have a feeling that he isn't going to take it well.

Because it's snowing, I carried her across the courtyard from garage to my place to avoid getting her tires mucky, and I started giggling with how very, very light she is. There's nothing like being able to carry your bike with one hand to know that it means you'll be going very, very fast on the road.

One thing that bugs is the pricing difference up here v. the US. Seriously, a $200 difference in retail pricing is crazy-talk, if you ask me, but no one does, so I pay more then I know would if I lived down cross-border. Sigh. But she is beautiful, and she is worth it.

Vicodin, Gay Wedding Cake and Boobage, Oh My

A few weeks ago, following a MICA management training course, I made the decision to not be frustrated. To not be angry. Don't get me wrong, I'm not shoving those feelings down inside until they cause me to blow up real good, but to feel them, and make decisions about how to make the things that are causing those emotions to stop, and then actually doing just that.

It's caused a couple of people to ask just what kind of drugs I've been taking.

I am my own Vicodin. Duuuuuude.

Anyway, remember when I said it was wedding season down page? Clarification: it's gay wedding season. Guess what pops up when you run a Google image search on Gay Wedding Cake?

As promised to Kate, and better late then never, here's a picture of me on my birthday. If there's a better way to to mark the day then excellent company, fine dining and flashing some skin, I don't know it.

Close 'Em Up

My mom will laugh at me when I tell you this, because she was on the receiving end of my begging and begging and begging when I was a pre-teen, but I've come to a decision: I'm letting my second set of earring holes close up.

Why? I hardly ever change the earrings in there. In fact, I only do so when the earrings that I'm wearing in the first set clashes with the keeper rings that I keep in the second. Which, truth be told, makes me not want to change earrings in the first holes because it's such a pain in the ass. So, really, why have that second set at all?

Step one has been completed: earrings have been removed.

Countdown to hole closure: T minus who knows, and counting.

Randomly, it appears to be wedding season, as people coming here searching on cake images has skyrocketed today. And since the last (and only) cake picture on here is of the GAYEST CAKE ON THE PLANET, here's something pretty to look at, instead. From April Reed Cake Design via Tastespotting (food porn!).

Have Bike, Will Travel

Oh, cycling, how I love it. How I love going fast. How I love having the ability to make myself go fast. And to aid my need (my need for speed), I've decided that I need to upgrade from my mountain bike to a road cycle. In the next couple of weeks, I'll be trying on a bunch of frames for size and feel, and I quite seriously can't wait.

One nice thing about professional cycling lines is that they've started producing women specific frames...Not girlie frames with the silly top bar set differently then normal bikes, but normal frames scaled to a woman's body. Basically, a woman's centre of gravity is different then a man's, and a WSD brings handles closer to seat which allows for a more natural and balanced ride and more control when cornering (fast).

I'll be trying on WSD models from Giant, Trek and Cannondale on for size, as well as non-WSD compact frames that suit my small stature.

It's almost approaching a bespoke bicycle. But you didn't hear that from me.

Consult the Educated Monkey

He is wise, well dressed, and very good with figures.




Look how sage!

That is all.

And Around My Neck, A Monkey

I am a lucky girl. I have a brother who goes beyond ordinary effort and makes sure that the present that he chooses to give me for my birthday (secretly Christmas, due to postal service shipping problems) is something that will make me clap my hands like a goon.

You may remember me mentioning coveting a monkey necklace from Odette NY. I covet no longer. The monkey is mine, and I've been wearing it every day since it came home with me.

I am particularly fond of what I feel is the wee monkey's shaking of his wee monkey fist at the world. Or, perhaps he is wagging his finger. Which leaves me to tip my hat - to both my brother, and to Jennifer Sarkilahti, Odette's designer, for making awesome pendents and providing exceptional customer service.

Fashiony McFashionface

I am a slave to fashion-based reality shows. And, as such, I am in a state of TV watching delight. Season 2 of Project Catwalk, the UK version of Project Runway, starts up on Slice (the Lifenetwork, rebranded) on Monday, and last week, the delusional models return to walk it out to see who becomes America's Next Top (non) Model. My, my.

There's Balsamic Vinegar in my Chocolate!

And, goddamnit, it is a revelation, and has transported my understanding of chocolate to a place where I'll never willingly come back from.

But let me back-track a little - on Feb 23, I headed on down to Toronto's Distillery District to dine at Perigee, and had plans on stopping at Soma Chocolatemaker while in the area. Unfortunately, traffic had Brad and I arriving in the exactly when our reservation was booked, and out of the restaurant a good half hour after Soma closed their doors. Their chocolatey, chocolatey doors.

I mulled my chocolate denial and equivocated over the wisdom of emailing the company to see about what placing an order would entail. The lovely Cynthia promptly sent me a current product and price list, and was able to send me a shipping quote based on what I was planning to buy. And what did I order, you ask? Well, let me tell you:

• One package of Mayan Hot Chocolate dry mix (chocolate, Australian ginger, Madagascar vanilla, orange peel, chili and spices)
• Four truffles / molded chocolates (Balsamic Vinegar, Caramel Kiss, Spicy Mayan Dome, & a Single Origin Venezuelan 70% Cacao content)
• One microbatch Dark Science bar, Venezuelan beans, 73% Cacao content (made by Soma, brought from bean to bar - that's right, they roast the beans for this sucker themselves)

Soma ships via FedEx, and because I'm in the area, next day shipping? $6.00. That's right, less then I would've spent on gas and parking had I trucked on into the city to pick it up myself. And since deliveries via FedEx usually require signatures on delivery, I decided to have my chocolate loveliness delivered to my workplace.

So I congratulate myself on clever online shopping.

I placed my order Tuesday evening. It headed out on Wednesday morning for delivery on Thursday. Unfortunately, since Thursday was NATURE'S WINTER REVENGE, I headed home early before the delivery was made. But Friday? Friday saw me with a box of delight on my desk, and a desire to run home so I could tear into my goods without having to share. Because chocolate turns me into a selfish 3-year-old.

So far, I've devoured the truffles. Three were good, as is to be expected by a maker of fine, handmade chocolates. Good, but not extraordinary. The fourth? Absolutely heavenly. Who could have known that the bitterness of dark chocolate could be balanced so delightfully with the sharp tangy sweetness of balsamic vinegar? Not me, but I sure am glad that it does.

Image via Inkygirl @ Flikr

Aware, What?

Monday and Tuesday saw me attending a seminar in downtown Toronto. A course on management. A two day, 9-5 course on management. With working lunches. And you know what? It was utterly exhausting, and one of the most rewarding seminars that I have ever been a part of.

But even more excellent? It afforded me the opportunity to have an excellent dinner with an excellent co-worker at Kultura.

Oh, the eats - the eats, they ruled. Served tapas-style (like everyone else in the city, it seems), and we ordered the following to share:

• Salad of arugala, regianno, enoki and shiitake with a light citrus vinaigrette
  
• Chilled vegetarian terrine of roasted mushroom, carrot, onion, eggplant and chevre
• Crispy Thai tofu on a puddle of hoisin and nam prik
• Mushroom orecchiette in a cheddar and cream sauce served in a ball-shaped earthenware bowl that allows the chef to bury a Malivoire pear right in the middle

The orecchiette was one of the most amazing pasta dishes I have ever ate, and the crispy tofu was absolute perfection. The vegetarian terrine was perfectly prepared and balanced veg, spice and cheese in an amazing way.

The room itself was incredibly beautiful and hip without giving me a headache.

Lovely, lovely.

Foot-Cheese Burp

Last night, my friend Brad and I ate at Perigee. It was an incredibly fun night, more so because of the company then the food. That's not to say that the meal stunk, because it didn't. It was quite good, but it didn't knock the socks off my ass, like I had wanted or expected it to do.

I really liked the concept of the open kitchen, and we were seated kitchen-side, in fact, right in front of where that guy who isn't Chef Pat Riley is standing in the picture of the dining space to your right. You could see the Chef and his sous working on dishes as you dined, and every time a server would drop off our plates, Chef would come over, stand in front of us, and tell us all about what we were about to eat.

There were a couple of things with the food that didn't make me freak my shit. For a kitchen that has been rated as highly as they have both in the press, in food forums and on other blogs, I think that each element on a plate should be able to stand on its own. When tasted separately, they should shine and be absolutely delicious on their own, and when eaten with the other bits, should send you into a seizure of delight. That didn't happen. And there was too much food all around. We ordered the 5 course tasting menu, which really turns out to be eight or nine, all-in. I don't really know what Brad had, excepting the dishes that I was able to sample off of, but it what I didn't have looked good.

Here's what I out in my belly:

• Amouse Bouche - 4 pieces, shared between the two of us. Nothing memorable enough for me to make mental note of
  
• Bread Plate - Bread made in restaurant. Slices of country bread, bread sticks and mini buns served with a butter that they churn themselves, an olive spead, and oil for dipping.
• First - Savoury mini bread pudding with pan fried crispy eggplant strips. The bread pudding was lovely though the edges were a little too dry, and the eggplant was great. When eaten together, the flavours of both came together nicely.
  
• Second - Braised celery root on a bed of something or other. Not as flavourful as I would've liked.
  
• Third - Grilled avocado on a bed of something or other that had a nice pickle-y-citrus-y flavour, accompanied by mini vegetable tempura. The grilled avocado really was a brilliant idea that I am going to have to steal. The tempura was bland.
• Palate Cleanser - One was a shot of child citrus and vodka, and the other was a spoon of bellini-style ice.
  
• Fourth - Cabbage roll filled with rice and raisins on a bed of something or other. Being brought up on cabbage rolls as a child, I wasn't expecting it to taste good, but the cabbage leaf was paper thin, and nearly melted on the tongue. That, matched with a well seasoned savoury rice and raisin stuffing made me wish that THOSE were the cabbage rolls that I had been familiar with!
• Pre-desert - Me: a mini banana brulee, but not with banana pieces, with the banana mixed into the creme. Brad: four mini sweet gnocchis in a kiwi reduction. The banana brulee was heavenly, and I want to try to make it myself. The kiwi reduction made the gnocchi.
• Dessert - chocolate mousse rolled in crushed hazelnuts placed on top of a wild raspberry reduction. Brad had a cheese plate instead or dessert, and there were three cheeses - a soft, stinky like a foot goat cheese, a soft cows milk cheese, and a hard goat cheese. The hard goat was my favourite, but a bit more mellow then I like my cheeses. The stinky goat was pretty dirty tasting, but I'm not a fan of stinky cheese in general.

The end.

PS: That's right, my ass wears socks.

PSS: Kate, when Brad sends me the pictures he took of me lovely frock, I'll send them to you!

Today is My Birthday

It is, it is! I freaking love birthdays so much, I can't even begin to tell you.

Here's what happened last year. This year? I bet it'll be EVEN BETTER. Because my birthdays? They rule.

Updates tomorrow.

Soma Chocolate - Recommendations, Please

On Friday, I will find my fine self in the Distillery District of Toronto, as I shall be a-Birthday dining at Perigee. But that got me thinking...what other lovely things are in down there? What other, lovely, tasty things made of chocolate? Oh, right, Soma!

So I need your recommendations on products. Please keep in mind that I like dark chocolate, the kind that sits at 70% cacao content, and I'm not too fond of whole nuts.

Okay, GO!

HaHa, PT Cruiser!

The PT Cruiser is the funniest car on the planet. Funny because it's disgustingly ugly while pretending to be cool. And funny because it's whole initial marketing plan revolved around the idea that people who didn't like the PT Cruiser simply didn't "get it".

People who have "it", apparently, have a horrid sense of styles and taste.

When I went on my first inter-province business trip with my current supervisor (hi, Lorne), I made him rent a PT Cruiser as our conveyance from airport to hotel, as I thought it would be incredibly funny to (a) ride in one, and (b) make him drive one. It wasn't until we sat down in the damn thing that I realized what a bad, bad decision we had made. The interior of the car was seemingly designed with the needs of a spastic monkey in mind, and ranked a -10 on the human-machine ease-of-use scale.

I bring this up because ever since, in separate incidents, both Lorne and I have been forced to travel in PT Cruisers, against both our better judgment and wishes. In fact, TODAY, while traveling on out to an off-site location with some co-workers, we were driven there in a PT Cruiser. It pained me to hold in my snickers as our driver pointed out her ride.

The end.

On a completely different note, Sunday marked the return of the most awesome team to ever appear on reality TV. Oh, Oswald and Danny from Season 2 of The Amazing Race, how I love you, and how I hope you leave every other team in the dust (psst: especially the intensely annoying and culturally offensive Myrna and Charla. Rrrrrrrrrrrrr-AAA-p-EEEE-doooooo, indeed).

Haircut!

But because I am an ass, I have a hard time being serious when cameras are involved.



I also tend to think I'm the funniest person on the planet.




HAIRBAND! Seriously, short short hair can give you so many options.

Etsy Releases the Artists, Artisans and Crafters

It does, it does. Which is awesome, but also problematic. If there was one thing that I could change about Etsy, it's to be able to filter members by Country. Because me? I like to support local artists, if possible. And also, I hate having to deal with duties and taxes that come with cross-border shipping.

That being said, my current favourite Etsy stores belong to Victoria, BC-based leather artisans:

• Bonspiel Creations
• Hollyhawk Leatherwork Designs

I love Bonspiel's prints and amazing use of colour, and am THIS CLOSE to asking her to custom make me a purse with theme there lovely owls at the top of this post.

I am also pretty down with Hollyhawk's leather cuffs. Leather cuffs! Brings me back to my indie rock roots. If indie rock was played in the middle of a forest. With an audience comprised of corduroy and backpack wearing birds.

Oh, there's one more thing that I would change about Etsy. I would wish that they'd set up RSS feeds for each shop so I could be notified of additions to my favourite stores instead of having to continually having to come back to visit them. But that's just because I am demanding. And a geek.

I Rue the Day

That I expressed serious concern about the warm, sunny, no-snow winter my part of the world was experiencing. Because the cold, and the dark, and the snow? It has settled in. And it is chapping my ass, both figuratively and literally. Windchill, my ass, indeed.

And as much as I love Chicago, I hate the way it is currently sending mountains of snow and windchills that are naught but deathly my way.

PS: Guess episode of CSI:NY aired in France, oh, say, an hour ago?

Blogging Regrets

Ever post something that you regret? I think we all do. With me, it's not a case of regretting posting things that are too intimate, or to revealing, as I have no shame, but posting something that brings a bargazillion people here because I feel like it inflates my stats.

Waaaaaay back in April 2006, I blogged about the end of an episode of CSI: NY. In my usually assy way, I made fun of it. Because that's what I do. Little did I know that in all of the months following, I would get between 5 and 1500 visits a day from people entering a very unique word that was featured prominently in the episode into search engines.

On the upside, I've learned a lot about how US TV productions have episodes aired following their North American premiere around the world. And maybe I've encouraged some of those thousands of visitors to return and read the other things I've written.

PS: Here's an image that pops up when you Google "Blogging Regrets".

Problem Solved

Here's how:

• Playlist: Two-way Street (article)

Frustration is a Dead Hard Drive

Or rather, not being able to recover any data from a dead hard drive, so that you have to start from scratch on the new one that was installed this morning. And don't even talk to me about should-ofs and back-ups, okay? Lesson learned.

That being said, I can't transfer my music from my IPod to my new hard drive, as ITunes is telling me that my IPod is synced with a different computer. It makes the excellent offer to sync my IPod with the new hard drive, but only if I'm willing to erase everything off of my IPod. Which, I'm pretty sure, is the OPPOSITE thing of what I want to do.

I do so wish for Obi Wan-type intervention. Anyone?

My Poor Little Computer

She is sick. And, in fact, she may be dead.

This morning, while i was in the middle of geeking out before heading to the gym and then work, she froze up, and when I attempted to reboot, said, in ominous tones, "Primary Drive cannot be found".

Ahhhh, crap.

So she's at the hospital now, and my little work laptop has come home with me.

Please wish her a speedy recovery - or, at least, a recovery of my goddamn data.

I Have a Bad Habit

When it the year starts to creep up to February, I start to celebrate the idea of my birthday by purchasing birthday presents for myself.

So far, here's the haul of goodies that I've given to myself:

• Lonely Heart: The Art of Tara McPherson - Tara McPherson, one of my art crushes
• Spellbinder - Melanie Rawn, one of my all time favourite authors
• Public Warning - Lady Sovereign, whom I have a soft spot for due to raps about being short

And this hilarious contact lens case, which I blame on Amblus:

GroupRecipes.com

Who knew that the Internet society would mature to a point where social media sites would be used for more then spying on people from our pasts? I KNOW! But it's true.

I joined GroupRecipes.com today. You can find recipes, and share your own. And you can comment and suggest alterations on the recipes that you've tried out. Hot, and also, damn.

If you do decide to join the GR.com community, I'm going to be tacky and as that you do so by making use of this link: Join GroupRecipes.com. You may just help me win a new kitchen. And then I'll make something insane and tasty in it for you.

While you're there, take a look at the first recipe that I posted to the site:

• Whole Wheat and Flax Meal Tortillas
  

Its Former Co-Worker Week

Over at ItsAMonkey.

That's right, and it's delightful. Today, I met with June Li, now of ClickInsight, at Crazy Sushi (who have a quite nice vegetarian sushi offering). And Thursday, the ItsAMonkey Car Service will be picking up Kate from the local GO station and making sure that we fill our bodies full of caffeine in coffee format. Or maybe that will be just me.

Anyone else want to get in on the action?

Consider This A Placeholder

Because I don't think any of you have a birthday in the immediate future, and mine ain't until the end of the month, but I don't want to forget about, and then lose this awesome picture that my friend Pamela found.



Also, a coworker asked me what I blog about. I didn't hesitate to tell him "Robot monkey pirates". I have suspicions that there is something very, very wrong with my brain.

Things That I Like About Calgary

• My friend Dani
• The King and I. Specifically, the Pad Tofu Long Song with brown rice at The King and I.
• Cindy at the Traders Grill at the Marriott. I swear, the woman must see a bargazillion people in a year, and yet she remembers me, even though I only come to town two or three times a year, and the off-menu items I get with my breakfast. "Melissa!" she says, "Go sit at your usual table! I'll get your bottle of water and your bananas!" It makes me feel like Norm from Cheers. But without the testosterone and beer.
• Today, the flirty piece of not-ordered baklava (even though I don't like baklava) that found it's way into my take away bag alongside my falafel sandwich this afternoon.
• Remembering that Alberta is right in the heart of Old Dutch country, and the bag of Sour Cream and Onion chips that will be coming home with me. As an aside, rumour has it that Old Dutch's take-over of Humpty Dumpty will see the Old Dutch brand making it's way back into Ontario this year. Which may have made me cry tears of joy.

Because I love you, here is a picture of what I will be tomorrow morning, as I finally come on back home. To stay. For a little while, at least.

Flying. Again.

I know, I just got back. But I'm off to Calgary for work this evening. I feel like I need to start purchasing Carbon Offset Credits.

Read about it here:

• Carbonfund.org
• TerraPass
• NativeEnergy
  

I Woke Up, Appetite Returned!

First, to you lovely dollfaces, thanks so much for your concern re: my churning tummy. I know I am a sucky-sucky-poo-poo, and I went overboard on the feeling sorry for myself, but in truth, I haven't been ill, really upset-stomach-sleep-9/10ths-of-a-day ill in over a decade. Migrainy-headaches that needed to be slept off, yes, but this? Almost foreign to me. And I, quite seriously, had no idea what to do with myself. It's true: people who are used to being healthy? Make the WORST sick people ever.

Not really eating for four days made my ass disappear. I'm doing things that involve donuts and french fries to rectify the situation.

And talking about food, I want to introduce you to the clay charm-based necklaces of Pancake Meow.

I would very much like to have a scented (SCENTED!) mini PB&J sandwich hanging about my neck.

And I know a certain Creampuff who, I think, deserves one of these wee donuts:


I think it's a mixed blessing that most of Leslie's pieces are out of stock, or I'd have a mountain of cuteness headed to my mailbox. And really, who can handle that in the middle of winter?

PS: Richa, parenthood be damned! Email me, you stinker.

She's Been Taken Down!

By a stomach bug, or food poisoning, or someone with voodoo powers and a grudge. I must say, an upset stomach made the flight home from California even more lovely then usual. And this whole lack of hunger / inability to actually eat more then a couple of spoonfuls of oatmeal or applesauce? Not my favourite thing in the world.

I am feeling sorry for myself. Sigh.

Hello, Darkness

I have an incredibly precise body clock that, 95% of the time, wakes me up before my alarm goes off.

I'm currently in a place that is 3 hours behind my normal time zone.

My head knows this. My internal clock? Give it a big fuck you, and continues to wake me up at my normal, rut-like weekday wake-up time.

This, however, does have it's advantages, as I am able to have the hotel gym to myself, and rewatch episodes of Angel, The X-Files and ER (from when Mark Greene was still alive, not that stinky, Stamos-filled drama of today. Oh, Stamos, other then Blackie, you are just no good.) while working out.

I'll be happy to travel home tomorrow. And then head out across time zones again next week. Except that last bit is actually more a resigned bitterness. Because, on top of a 2 hour difference, visiting Calgary in the winter brings a deathly, skin cracking cold dryness.

Maybe I should just stay in California?

Monterey, You Are Lovely, If Not A Little...

Boring.

I said it. I said it, even if I believe that saying, "You're not bored, YOU'RE boring!".

After hitting the tourist traps, and the limited number of boutiques downtown, there really isn't much to do if you're a visitor to town. I even walked to the outskirts of town to spend some time at their mall, during down time at the conference, where I attempted to shop. To no avail.

Don't get me wrong - it's a lovely little town. But without a car, and the time, and therefor the option to head on down to Carmel, quaint quickly turns into boring.

I may be wishing to go back in time, and hint very heavily in the direction of UIE that San Francisco would have been a better option.

I should be aghast, complaining when the town is so beautiful, and I can walk about in just a sweater with the snow that is on the ground back home. And, in a way, I am. But that's not going to stop me!

And Off She Heads for Cal-i-Forn-Eye-Ehhhhhhh

Okay, not quite yet, but very, very early tomorrow morning. I will spare you the every present complaints about the traveling part of traveling, and leave you with a link to this very excellent blog instead:

• Andy Cohen, Bravo TV (US) Senior Vice President of Production and Programming

If you have watch an episode of at least on television show in the past 15 years, you'll thank me.

Also, here is a random picture of The Fonz. Just because.

Chicken Pot, Chicken Pot, Chicken Pot Piiiieeee

Remember when you were a kid and thought that growing up was all about drinking wine and kissing and having no one make you go to bed when you wanted to stay up and watch TV?

I swear, if I had known that it really meant being responsible and taking care of myself, I would've made like Donnie on Just Shoot Me, and faked brain damage to avoid it all.

Are you surprised to find out that I spent an hour at the bank, deciding on options to deal with topping up 2006's tax year's RSP contribution?

Chicken pot, chicken pot, chicken pot piiiieeee......

A Full Day

To Do:

• Perfect Transformer impression
• Book birthday dinner at Perigee
• Marvel at how I allow myself to be drawn into 24 each and every season

Results:

• Check
• Check
• Check
  

What, You Don't Post, and You Don't Give A Reason?

I know, I usually chatter on about the things that get in the way, but those things usually involve travel. Or monkeys. Or traveling with monkeys in a traveling monkey circus staffed by monkeys and robots and pirates.

Truth is, although I may be that girl who announces to the office at large "Just so you know, I did NOT pee myself. But I did spill herbal tea in my crotch just now", even when wearing black pants, when it comes to real-life bits? I'm a pretty private person.

But to get to the point of things: Last week, my Oma (for those not of Dutch or German descent, that would be grandmother) died. I think I avoided blogging about it for a number of reasons: she had been ill, and quietly dying, for quite a long time, and, to be truthful, unlike most people that I know, I wasn't close to my Oma. It's hard to know how to respond to heartfelt expressions of sympathy when you don't feel the deep kind of pain that, for instance, my mom felt at Oma's passing. And I didn't want to come across like I was looking for sympathy. If anything, the only thing that I wanted to do was be sympathetic, and be there for my mom, however she needed me.

And so I bring this all up to just be a horrible person. At a family member's passing, the crazy huge extended family that I'm a part of gathers. And this weekend, I saw cousins and children of cousins that I had either not seen for years, or, in fact, ever met. And I became transfixed by a hairstyle on one of my cousins that I hadn't seen since Rick Springfield, circa 1982.

I am a bad, bad person.

I have no excuse.

And the thinking back on the hair? It is still making me laugh.

I think I may be beyond repair.

My Love Affair with Bruce Campbell Continues

He has now made me love icky Old Spice. That's right, Mr. Campbell has gone and shot himself an Old Spice commercial.



Smoking jacket + ascot = super-awesomeness.

Coincidentally, one of the local Fox affiliates is airing Army of Darkness RIGHT NOW. Bruce, Bruce, how I love thee, Bruce.

Best Character Name of the Winter TV Season

Rockefeller Butts, The Knights of Prosperity. He went over the Falls in a barrel, baby.

It's a Pup-ny

Rory the Shetland pony thinks he's a puppy.

Things, Well, They Happen

Or they don't, and you sit around waiting, and wondering why it's taking so long. But then you see something like this, and all is right with the world.


Crab Man, I love you.

So A Chimpanzee and a Rabbit...

Get mailed to my house in the form of an excellent Christmas gift.


I am now pondering the exact, most awesome space to hang it.

New Template for a New Year

Yes, I know, we're two days in already, but better late then never with the good wishes to all, no? So there you go - Happy New Years, kids.

Talking about templates, it's nice to have one that has:

• Bullet points that aren't invisible.

I do wish, however, that there were more to choose from. And modules that would allow me to do things that Blogger currently isn't set up to handle. Seems like it might be time to think about changing platforms. But, me? Am cheap. So any cash-saving recommendations would be appreciated.

2006 Recap

In keeping with recapping tradition, here's what 2006 looked like.

(Instructions: take the first sentence (or 2) from the first post of each month of 2006. That's your year in review.)

When I was a wee baby, I used to want to grow up to be a horse. And that is completely apropos of NOTHING.

When I was in primary school, one thing that I looked forward to every year was the MS Readathon. Did I care that the money raised went towards Multiple Sclerosis research? Hell no. But a sport for your brain? Ohhhh, yeah.

Jeff, my trainer, fairly murdered my biceps and back this morning. I have been walking around all day, arms cradled around each other, perhaps making dinosaur noises.

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.

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.

It must be a fashiony day! Look what arrived at my house this week. Oh, BCBG, how I love you:

But without the tripping. And without the funny.

Although I fear by stating such that the exact opposite will come true. But, still - today I met with my renovation project's new project manager, and their countertop supplier came in to measure my cabinets for their top.

Well, except for paint touch-ups, that is. What am I talking about? Why, my bathroom renovation, of course!

Get your mind out of the gutter - I'm referring to my car. And the crazy lady who ran into my rear end this morning on the way to work.

Crushes come and go, and I've moved on, and on again, to a new love.

That would make me so happy, I would clap like a seal!

An Excellent Toaster

And look how cute it looks in my kitchen!


I can't remember a time in my life when I've actually been in possession of a pop-up toaster. It's always been toaster-ovens-or-bust in my house, because, why have a machine that only does one thing when you can have one that does two or three (usually none of them very well).

Thankfully, it makes an awesome piece of toast, and has made friends with its neighbours, the food processor (ROBOT CUISENAIRE!) and spice grinder. Plus, defrost and reheat options! Slots big enough to toast a bagel!

It really is love, I think.

Proof That There's a Reason for the Immaturity

If you've been anywhere near a TV in the past couple of years, you've seen Drs Michael Roizen and Mehmet Oz on the talkshow and newsmagazine circuit, flogging their book You: The Owner's Manual.

As a part of their official site, they've provided an extensive questionnaire that calculates your real age, taking into account your lifestyle, as well as medical and family histories. Enlightening, indeed.

Wondering how I fared?

Calendar Age: 32.8
Real Age: 24.3

See? I told you there was a reason for the silliness. And now there's proof.

Making Out Like A Bandit

Is what I feel like I did yesterday, with my Christmas loot. And though the holidays aren't supposed to be about the presents, I am still honest enough to admit that they sure do make me happy.

But even better? Watching the people who you've bought something for unwrap and examine, and, if you're lucky, turn to you with just that look in their eyes, like you got them the exactly right thing. Then you feel like both Smokey AND the Bandit (wedding dress and porn-stache optional) .

Completely unrelated, until this morning, I had thoughts of purchasing yet another Mackage. Then I really started to think about it - although lovely, the things that have really made me happy over the past few years have been the things I've experienced, instead of the things that I have. Even though the things I have are freaking awesome. So I'd rather give myself an excellent birthday - whether I stay in town or take off for a weekend - and have something excellent to remember and think on and savour for ages to come.

Where You Been?

I have been even less prolific then usual this week, and I put it all down to the fact that vacations turn me into a sloth, like this:


And sometimes, like this:


HEY YOU GUUUUUUUYS.

It's a Peeler

But not in the stripper sense. So close to being a monkey knife fight, you don't even know.

Via Target

A Proper Size Comparison

I knew the new IPod Shuffles were tiny, but I had no idea just how wee they really were. Until one arrived at my house this morning, via the organizers of a conference I'll be attending in the new year.


So tiny! So cute! It is making me make cooing noises at it.

In other news, I started my final vacation for the year yesterday, and I shant be returning to work until January 4th. So far, my days have been full of sessions at the gym with Jeff, my trainer, and lunch yesterday at The Siddhartha with my excellent friend Brad.

Annnnd....scene.

Dick in a Box

Justin Timberlake on Saturday Night Live. Excellent.

Ballet Girls

For the past few weeks, I've found myself engrossed in the 3-part documentary mini-series Ballet Girls. Filmed in the second half of 2005 at the Royal Winnipeg Ballet, it follows a number of young and teenage girls, as they take-part in an intensive dance camp, through enrollment in the school of dance, through auditions for the RWB's annual production of The Nutcracker touring company.

The series has been making me think a lot about my own childhood, and the time I spent dancing. It makes me think about how different my life could have been if I had a different temperament as a child. As a kid, I was a quitter. It's true! I know some of you who have only known me as an adult might scoff at the thought, but, seriously, it's true.

I saw first enrolled in ballet class before I was even enrolled in grade school. I took part in two recitals, and have the photographic evidence that I just might have to scan when I next visit my parents to prove it. Following a move to a new city, a couple of years later I enrolled in gymnastics. And quit. And started taking piano classes. And quit. And enrolled in jazz dance classes. And quit.

And though I was a middling-to-not-so-bad student in all of them, I had neither the love or drive for any to make a permanent part of my life. Which is a shame, because I think my body was made for all of them. Long limbs; small stature; long, tapering fingers; flexibility that can sometimes be a little circus-freak scary; feet with a pointe that my dance instructors would use as an example for other students.

And it's making me think a lot of about how fun re-taking up ballet would be, and how the last dance studio that I attended is still up-and-running. And how I should call to see if they're offering adult classes. Because how could wearing a tutu as a 32-year-old woman not fucking rule?

World's Tallest Man? Saving Dolphins? Best. Story. Ever.

This is Bao Xishun, the world's tallest man.



This is Bao Xishun's left hand.




This is Bao Xishun sticking his hand down the throat of a dolphin, removing the plastic that it was choking on.




Read the story here: Toronto Star - World's Tallest Man Saves Choking Dolphins

Have Passport, Will Travel

That's right, the Government of Canada has made the dubious decision to lay claim to my nationality and let me loose on the world.

So, when are you going to invite me to visit you?

Completely unrelated, you must click on over to La Tartine Gourmande. Amazing food photography accompanied by recipes. Hot. And also, Damn. Look! Macarons made with Macha Tea and Chocolate Ganache!

Bare Knuckle Brawler

I'm looking down at my hands right now, and they're a complete and utter mess. Mostly because I'm a klutz. Like Daphne, from Scooby Doo. Give me something hot to handle (except my ass. That's hotness that I can handle) and I'll show you a burn waiting to happen. Something sharp? Cuts a-plenty.

I've given up wishing for an incident-free life, as I know I'd be more likely to find out that I was (a) adopted, and (b) a princess. And since I look so much that the pharmacist that we share, who has never seen us together, felt it necessary to marvel over the resemblance last month.

I will always be accident prone. And I will always, eventually, make my way over here to injury-blog.

I reckon this serves as a warning, as slipping on ice weather is about to start. Let the pain begin!

Sleeper Cell Returns

And I am delighted. Although I have issues with Showtime for blocking access to their website to non-US residents, I forgive them that slight due to the fact that they produce incredible, incredible television.

Last year, the first season of Sleeper Cell followed a Muslim FBI agent as he infiltrated and eventually brought down a sleeper cell of multi-ethnic terrorists inside the United States. The show was marked not only by stunning and nuanced performances by Michael Ealy and Oded Fehr, but also taut and thoughtful plotting and dialogue. A compassionate treatment of the subject at hand, even and thought provoking.

I loved the show, and I am very much looking forward to it's return. Except, one thing, that is. Dude, what's up with Ealy's hair?