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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.