Monday, December 24, 2012

Sinatra Was Swinging, All The Drunks They Were Singing

While I've technically already posted my Christmas greeting in video blog form, it's still tradition for me to post this video every year.

So, to you and yours, have a very Merry Christmas and happy holidays.
 

Friday, December 21, 2012

You're As Cuddly As A Cactus, You're As Charming As An Eel

Just in time for your egg nog hangovers, another video blog is here.

Daisy the Pigdog and I have some holiday wishes for you, a blast-o from Christmas past-o, and Masuka has a question that's got me thinking (a rare thing, I'm aware).

Ho, ho, ho, hosers.



Main background song by Mike Bolt of From The Bridge and Seas



Tuesday, December 18, 2012

And The Vision That Was Planted In My Brain Still Remains

Christmas is in one week.

Excuse me while I repeat that sentence to myself, as I'm not entirely sure I'm convinced.


Most of my life, I've been Christmas obsessed - nutbar crazy at this time of year. Lists, decorations, countdowns, etc, etc... but some years the proverbial "Christmas Spirit" evades me.

This has kinda been one of those years.

So this past weekend, I grabbed a partner-in-crime & did what I could to try to get Christmas-ified.Some of my methods may be different from the norm, but I'm sure you're not surprised.


Guitar stores may not be technically holiday-related, but they bring joy.

Oh yes, they do.

Some of the guitars were downright festive.


And at The Indie Alehouse, there were ten beers a-beerin', and not a single partridge in any pear trees.

Santa wishes for me to drink delicious beer.


But Sunday was the most  traditionally Christmas-y... we went to the Christmas Market in the Distillery District for the first time ever.

That did it.

The lights, the singing, the smells, the food - I was officially in Christmas mode.


I loved it.

And after that, the only thing left to do was to make Christmas Rice Krispies Squares (that I maybe kinda sorta already demolished).


So maybe this year it was harder to get into the season - I'm in it now, and looking forward to it.

And after Christmas, another new year is starting. I'm not one for resolutions, but I know that I want to do more. Try new things. Be an idiot, have fun, be less scared. Already looking forward to a few of my plans, like being a Sambassador for Samba Days (which aligns perfectly with my wish to have new experiences), and kicking The MediaHaus into high gear.

There are things in the works, all around.


Stay tuned.

And Happy Holidays from your favourite Shambled Power Ranger.





Tuesday, December 11, 2012

Shame On Me For The Ruse, Shame On Me For The Blues

It's been awhile since we heard from our friendly neighbourhood perv, Masuka. He's a busy man, and I've also been too busy to make video blogs that he's always featured in. There's one on the horizon.

But in the meantime, a Masuka question to tide the perv-fans over:


Dear Kristen, 

According to a recent survey, over 90% of women have the wrong sized bra on... And it's usually way too small. Can you explain this to me? I would think you would want to lie and say you have giant big 'uns not sell yourself short.  

Love, 

Masuka


Dear Masuka,

Yep.

From what I have heard, as a regular bra wearer and a female-type person, you are correct. The majority of women are supposedly wearing the wrong sized bra.

But y'see... it's not our fault. Not all bras are created equal. We may be one size according to Victoria's Secret, but another at La Senza. And if your size is a rare one? Well, you're shitta outta luck.


Apparently we should all be getting our breasticles properly sized at fancy shmancy lingerie places, but the last time a sales chick started poking at my parts, I kinda wanted to punch her and yell "PERSONAL SPACE! PERSONAL SPAAAAACE!" and then run away. Maybe that's just me. I also hate shopping, so that's fitting. ("Fitting". There's a bra pun for ya.)

As for lying and saying we're a size or two bigger than we are, that's just silly. It's not about size so much as it's about what they look like, and we all want them to look goshdarn fantastic. And that's why the right fitting bra is important.

I know this. I read it on a pamphlet once.

So there you have it, Masuka. A boob-related blog post, just for you. Now please... stop hanging out in lingerie stores.

Love,

Kris

Thursday, December 6, 2012

I Wanna Feel The Change Consume Me, Feel The Outside Turning In


Every once in awhile I read articles stating that it's a big "red flag" when a girl has more male friends than female friends. And no, this is not a discussion about whether men and women can just be friends, because as far as I'm concerned that's a circumstantial issue (and yeah - they can). This is strictly about women with male friends.

It's bothered me for a long time and I often defend my views. So, yet again, I hope to dispel some of that absolute nonsense and defend those of us chicks who are just fine being "one of the guys":


I'm female. And yes, most of my friends are male. But there are very good, very logical reasons for it.

Though I'm a girl, I don't often care for typically girly things. I hate shopping. I couldn't care less about current fashion. I know next to nothing about celebrities. I use the same purse all year even if it doesn't match. I don't like nightclubs, other than a rare night with girlfriends. The colour pink, which is apparently the most feminine of all hues, is my mortal enemy.

I'm not implying that all girls like the things I've just listed. I'm merely saying that I do not. The things I do enjoy are quite different.


I like throwing back a few beers and seeing a live band. Hitting a pub and shooting the shit with like-minded people. My brain is perverted, sarcastic, and riddled with four-letter words - I dig conversation with people who are the same, or who appreciate that in another person. I'm more comfortable in a buddy's basement playing rockband than at a fancy party. Heavy music makes me happy.

It just so happens that the majority of things I enjoy tend to be enjoyed by guys more often than girls (and hey - I regularly make friends with girls that like those things, too). It's not a red flag or something to be wary of; it's the reason anyone is friends with anyone.

Simple, right?


I have female friends that are very dear to me, I'd never trade them for anything. But that isn't the point - the point is that somehow it's a negative reflection on me that I tend to have things in common with men. Well, I call bullshit. Bullshit on anyone who thinks that way.

So what if I'm a girl that has a lot of male friends - you make friends with people who share your interests, who you enjoy talking to, spending time with, and who like doing the same things you do. Whether male or female, it does not make one bit of difference. Bottom line.



So whoever sees it as a negative - I'm sorry that you let your insecurities keep you from having real friends, regardless of gender. But, thankfully, I don't have that problem.


Monday, December 3, 2012

Guest Post - Getting Barefoot for Charity at #pedi4cause

Today we've got a guest post from the always awesome Jamie (aka - JamieLeightTO)! She hit the #Pedi4Cause event that I sadly had to miss, and has taken us along for the ride. Thanks Jamie!:

Hi everyone!

Guest blogger, Jamie here to drop some of my own shambled ramblings on you – in my bare feet!

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Last week while Kristen was busy kicking internet ass, I was busy taking off my heels and getting pampered. But it was for charity, so if I didn’t do it I would basically be stealing from babies. Babies IN NEED. Or something like that.

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I don’t normally take my shoes off at parties, but #pedi4cause was a different kind of party. Hosted by Sharlene Chiu from MTV News, Barefoot Wines and Bubbly invited the media to kick it barefoot with them and enjoy a night of wine and pampering in support of Second Harvest. Second Harvest is a “food rescue” program and the largest of its kind in Canada. Second Harvest works with grocery stores and food manufacturers to pick up excess food and deliver it to community agencies like food banks and community meal programs. In Toronto alone, Second Harvest delivers to more than 215 community agencies.

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I have definitely tried Barefoot Wines before (since I’ve basically tried any bottle under $15 at my local LCBO) but I never really see much about the brand in the media. That’s because instead of spending a lot of money on traditional advertising, Barefoot Wines uses a grassroots marketing approach based on community involvement and supporting local charities. They provide wine to over 650 charity events every year.

Barefoot Wines and Bubbly make fruity and flavourful Californian wine in the following varietals: Pinot Grigio, Sauvignon Blanc, Chardonnay, White Zinfandel, Shiraz, Merlot, Zinfandel, Cabernet Sauvignon and Moscato. With each bottle selling for only $10-14 across Canada, the wine is not only delicious but also really affordable.

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The next time I’m partying I’ll definitely be thinking about the footprint I leave. I’ll be making more Barefoot footprints in the shape of empty wine bottles – BECAUSE CHARITY, okay?

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Tuesday, November 27, 2012

Best To Keep Things In The Shallow End, Cuz I Never Did Learn How To Swim

Clowns.

I am terrified of them.

And I refuse to believe that there are people who genuinely enjoy them

When I was young, I was scared of anything and everything in a mask or costume. I once went to Martin's Fantasy Island and had to hide in a bathroom to avoid people dressed up as Simpsons characters. I've never been to Disneyland - but I bet if I had, Mickey Mouse would've received a punch to his rodent throat.

Luckily I eventually got over my fear of masks and costumes (well, mostly), but the clown thing has stuck. And it always will.

Because those things are evil.


How it was decided that creepy makeup, big coloured wigs, and a need to invade peoples' personal spaces "for a laugh" was somehow a good thing and should become commonplace.... I do not know. There's a reason that "It" is such a famous horror villain - clowns are frightening & unnatural. They must be stopped.

So I ask you, dear people of the internet, are there actually any of you who like clowns? Do they make you happy? And if so, how?

Because honestly, there's only one clown in existence that I dig:



The rest of 'em, I'm fairly certain, are trying to kill me.

And you.

Thursday, November 22, 2012

I'll Call You Beautiful, If I Call At All

Tomorrow will be Daisy's BirthAversary.

Daisy-ception.
I know that I devote a blog post to it every year and, even if it drives readers crazy, I will continue to. It's the anniversary of the day we took her from her crackhouse-puppy mill existence, changed her name & gave her a new life. And so, it's also the day I chose as her birthday. Though no one knows her exact age, we have reason to believe that she'd be about 7.

So happy 7th to my girly. Thanks for the 4 years of putting up with me.

Can I call you back?
I'm not ashamed of my crazy love for this dog. She's my constant; my sidekick. In the years she's been with me, a lot of important things have changed. Homes, jobs, situations, friends, loves, even hair colours - and she's always there. Daisy is my greatest comfort and the biggest pain in my ass. Her capacity for love and loyalty surprise me daily. I know every owner thinks this of their pet, but really... she is something very special.

As my longest-running unrelated relationship (we've lived together for 4 years, after all), she's been witness to every aspect of my life. The ups, downs, triumphs, and bullshit - and she's always the same. Just Daisy. My best girl.


So when I wish her a happy BirthAversary every year, I'm reminded of our time together and how much unconditional love and comfort this dog has brought me. I'm reminded of her former life and am happy to have been able to give her a new, happier one.

But she also kinda did the same for me.


My dog is awesome.

And November 23rd is all about her.

Stuff. It's funny.
 Keep kickin' ass, chick. You're the bee's knees.

Monday, November 19, 2012

I'll Be Waiting With A Gun & A Pack Of Sandwiches

Growing up, my friends never liked the same music as me. I was heavily influenced by my sister's tastes, and kids my age didn't quite 'get' the harder genres I preferred. I remember once a little boy told me that he couldn't play with me anymore because his mom said I listened to "Satan worshippers", and I was going to hell.

I just might be, buddy. But at least they'll have good tunes there.


Because my tastes were different, it was always rare that I'd have people to go to live shows with me. Had I strictly wanted to see live pop acts, I'd be set. But for the most part, I was shit outta luck. I missed out.

As I got older and my tastes became a bit more eclectic (read: batshit crazy), I've been able to find some concert partners here and there. Whenever I have one who is my regular long-term concert date, it's awesome to have a person who craves live shows like I do. Before you even ask the question "Hey, wanna go see [insert random act here]?", you know for damn sure that the answer is yes. In those cases, I was pretty lucky.

That kinda thing, for me, is priceless.


So since I don't have an automatic +1 for any and all shows right now, this is a public message to my friends who are music freaks: Who wants to go to live shows with me?

Who can I bug every time there is a local act, a stadium show, or a friend's band that I need to see?


If you think dating is hard, try finding the right music partner.

It's a pretty intangible connection.


For those looking for platonic live show partners, be warned; I'm often liable to do the Elaine dance & yell made-up words.

Inquire within.

Thursday, November 15, 2012

You Want To Travel With Her, & You Want To Travel Blind

When tough situations come along, it always makes me re-think many of my major decisions. One big change can leave me vulnerable to options and questions that hadn't really occurred to me before.

Because of this and an emotional week, a conversation I recently had with a very smart man has stuck with me. It's the idea of home: what is 'home'?


I was born and raised in St. Catharines, and moved to Toronto in 2008. Since I first moved, home has taken on many forms. Lifestyles and situations have come and gone, things have ebbed and flowed. For me, home is more of a feeling than an actual location - often the result of people, not places.

Right now, in this apartment, it does not feel like home. I don't know that it ever has. This March I'll have been here for 2 years, and yet I haven't bothered to paint or truly put my personality into my own space. It's not a reflection of me. It's where I live, where I work, but my heart isn't in it.

Even now, when I refer to the house I grew up in back in St. Catharines, I call it home. But home is more of a reference to my parents, to family, and to the majority of my life having been lived there. My dog is another piece of home; likely the greatest comfort I have, and she's with me through everything. We are a package deal, always.

Relationships, significant others, also end up becoming home to me. Love, familiarity, bonds, comfort... that's my definition of home. And as those change, so does the feeling that I'm where I need to be.

So, at this point, anywhere could be home. Any city, any place; here or somewhere entirely new. But home is just not within these walls. I'm not sure where to start in order to figure out where I need or want to be - whether a small change or a big one will give me the result I'm looking for. So until I do, Toronto is still where I hang my hat. At least for now. But the options are starting to seem endless.

What constitutes 'home' for you?


Monday, November 12, 2012

No Matter How It Ends, No Matter How It Starts

Last Thursday was a media night to premiere the new show at Medieval Times.

I had never been before because I'm a horrible Torontonian. And it was awesome. For many different reasons, I'm happy for good memories from this night.


Brought a posse of hilarity - good times were had by all.



We were in the red & yellow section. You know me, I love a good excuse to scream random stuff at large groups of people.

And eating with my bare hands? I do that anyway. This time no one judged me. That's a win, folks.



No touching!



That's some pomp and ceremony right there.

Ooh. Colours.



My chicken. Delicious hand-held chicken.


All bowls should have handles because eff spoons. That's why.







This was the Daisy of horses.

Seriously. Look at it. It's my dog, but a horse. And yes, that does make sense.

PS - I now suddenly love horses and am wondering if they're allowed in my apartment. And will they eat dog food?


These beers were bigger than my head. I have a large head.

I now have both glasses in my kitchen, with no cupboard that can fit 'em. These are problems.




We are frightened and disgusted. And frighteningly disgusting.



The posse of hilarity. Photos are out of order, but you didn't know that.





One is the loneliest number.

Unless you just kicked the other guy's ass with some weaponry. Huzzah.


"Do you bite your thumb at me, sir?"


Red & yellow wins!

Of course. It was my section. My section doth not lose, m'lords.


This is Anna.

Anna is a wench.

The bestest wench in the west, in fact.


Our rivals, the blue section. We shall fight again.

And thus ends my first Medieval Times experience, where I was a 'winner winner, chicken dinner'. Literally.

Thanks for the fun.






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