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.






Tuesday, November 6, 2012

And Wanting You To Reach Up From The Dark, To Wake Up From The Cold

It's not exactly a secret that I've never cared much about healthy eating - I only cared about eating in general.

There are years of blog posts on this site that fondly mention my love of over-curded poutine, the constant addiction to Big Macs, a meaningful affair with anything deep fried, and nightly Fat Girl Platters.


 Well, that hasn't changed. Not exactly.

But with Mike's influence, as a healthy eater and someone who cooks (yes, both of those things are insane), I've added new words to my food vocabulary. Kale. Quinoa. Chickpeas. Turkey bacon. And the worst one -  Vegetables. I was always certain it was a foreign word for "evil mouth poison", but apparently I was wrong.


So now that I have some healthier things to balance out my deep fried needs, I start thinking more and more about how what we eat affects us. I've had misdiagnosed stomach issues for about a bajillion years now, and it causes me to analyze every bite: "Will this make me sick? Ooh, how about this?" And I never have the right answer.

Armed with the knowledge that Miss Saturated Fats (me) can, albeit begrudgingly at times, welcome vegetables and superfoods into her diet, I wonder about other changes that may finally cure the stomach problems that have plagued me forever.

People are going gluten free, lactose free, sugar free, etc. all over the place - have you? What steps did you take, and how could the process be made easier? And how do you feel now?

I may or may not be willing to subract some things from my diet. If you know me, that's kinda huge (Big Mac sized, even.).



But for the sake of functionality... not coffee. Never coffee.


Thursday, November 1, 2012

I'm Not The One That's So Absurd

Yep. You guessed it.

Time for the Halloween post.
 

Now that I have functioning internet, a laptop that works, and a few minutes to sit down, it must be blogging time.

So, after the usual Halloween costume conundrum, I ended up going out as the female Clark Kent. Or, as I like to call it, Bizzarro SuperBroad.


Had our Halloween party at Velvet on Friday - a great time, featuring appearances by Felix Baumgartner, Marcel the Shell, and Mike Wazowski of Monsters Inc.



The resident DJ of awesometasticness came as a line from The Smiths' song, Panic. Can ya guess it?

5 points and a thumbs up to anyone who can.


My Michelle, givin' me the eye before trading the hat in....


...for the Mike Wazowski costume.

Obviously, I did too.

And yeah - it's meant for 4 year olds.


Tuesday at Rancho Relaxo, we had Clark Kent in stereo.

Who wore it better? Don't answer that. 


With beer in hand, we fight crime.


Without the glasses, I'm just a chick in a shirt.



Seas turned into a 6-piece band for the occasion, and a couple of 'em even dressed up. But apparently playing instruments under hot lights while dressed up isn't the easiest thing.

Don't tell KISS.


I have a penchant for stealing other people's costumes and wearing them in a stupid manner. Next year i'm going as "Everyone's Costume But Mine".

Now, please. Can someone give me some damn candy?


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