Tuesday, October 27, 2009

LG Fashion Week Snapshot #3

Attention interns, volunteers, security guards, PR girls: during Fashion Week and as long as I am wearing an All-Access pass, I will believe you are below me. I'm not quite sure it happened (although I have a feeling my ever present arrogance and my height had something to do with it) but I took a major power trip during the last few weeks. I took the power trip and had someone else carry my bags and flew first class.

To be fair (or something) we really did run that show there. Three Events were the queens of the tents, second only to Robin Kay and her "skinny minions". We knew what was going on, we knew who everyone was, we were allowed everywhere, our hands were in everything. Also, it was a very stressful week so we were always running around, frantic and breezing past people who were slowing us down. That included the above mentioned people.

If anyone dared to mistake us for a volunteer or someone who shouldn't be allowed in VVIP, the repercussions were enormous. I initially tried to be nice, but then I comfortably settled into the role of Bitchy Important Girl. Constantly on the Blackberry, always with a latte (usually brought to me by an intern), barking orders, makin' it happen - it was pretty fun. In my normal life, I don't get to play this role nearly as often as I'd like, so I ran with it.

LG Fashion Week Snapshot #2

I was working with Andy The-Anh, a Montreal designer with clothes so beautiful I would give up sugar to wear them. Or maybe bread, yeah, I'd probably give up bread. I indulged him and his team for several hours while we worked out his show. He was perfectly nice and really appreciative - much nicer than most.

After his show, which was jam-packed, I got the following text:

Dearest Melissa. Thank in a million for your help. Without you, my show would not have been a success. Thank you. I love you. Andy TA.

Totally made my day. Actually, I coasted on that text for several days. We are BFFs now. Natch.

LG Fashion Week Snapshot #1

L'Oreal had hair stylists and make-up artists on site all week to do touch-ups for the few people who didn't get all made up by their own team before they arrived. I was one of these people and looked so haggard by Tuesday that I sat down for a quick 10 minute refresh.

This is what they did to my hair - and this is after I furiously brushed it down. I looked like Farrah Fawcett's grandmother.

Ok, now that I look at the picture, it doesn't look that crazy, but trust me, it was ridiculous. Actually, my face looks worse than the hair in this picture. Huh.

Turkey Day

Thanksgiving is quickly becoming my favourite holiday of the year. No gift pressure, no crammed social schedule that doesn't allow for much enjoyment, no decorations required, and a great meal - what's not to love? Plus it's only one day and everyone still gets it off work.

The only thing that kind of bums me out is that my life is not like a television show. Each year I try to invite people who don't have anywhere to go so we can be like that episode of Friends where everyone eats together. I really love being a hostess and want people to join us on this holiday especially. It would make me feel good, but people either feel like they're intruding or just don't want to come for whatever reason. Bah.

This year, I undertook the task of preparing the meal for my family and friends. There were 12 of us including my brother who drove in from Quebec for the weekend, which was really great. Mom had agreed to take care of the turkey, stuffing and gravy, since this is my first Thanksgiving in the kitchen. I made all the trimmings. Obviously, all recipes were from Barefoot Contessa - my loyalty never wavers.

- Buttermilk Mashed Potatoes: turns out buttermilk is no big deal, they tasted like regular old potatoes, but required a carton of $6.99 dairy product.

- Gruyere and Fennel Potato Gratin: Amazing! My greatest accomplishment - so much flavour, bubbling cheese ($30 worth!) and fennel isn't as offensive or licorice-y as I thought it would be.

- Roasted Carrots: snore, but somehow I managed to burn them on the outside and have them still crunchy on the inside.

- Haricots Verts with Shallots: Yes, I'm being pretentious, they're green beans.
- Mashed Turnips with Crispy Shallots: Ok, seriously, the rutabaga is like Mother Nature's joke on all of us and our knives. Have you ever tried to "cook" these suckers? I might as well have tried to peel, cut and boil a rock. No, for real. They are exactly like 5 pin bowling balls. I hate them. HATE them. But they're so delicious - do they come in cans yet?

- Parmesan Roasted Asparagus: delicious, anything with cheese seemed to turn out well.

- Ginger Cookies: You don't like ginger. You don't. You might think you do until you bite into these cookies and chew on a Canada Dry nugget. Bad.

- Pumpkin Roulade with Mascarpone: so sweet and so amazing - anything that requires a dishtowel to bake it has got to be interesting.

Pear, Apple and Cranberry Cobbler: simple and delicious, but a little "meh".

My family was gracious enough to eat the burned carrots and the turnips that really didn't taste like Grandma's and compliment me afterwards. That's why I love cooking for family - it's not something I've done before for them so I get a similar reaction as whe I took my first step.

WMD or spot of tea?

I was driving down Dundas Street the other day and saw this. I am pretty convinced that is an arm to a spaceship or a weapon of mass destruction. Or a really large tea kettle. Either way, he can't be up to any good.


I can't foresee any situation at any point during the rest of my life where I would be required to buy shoelaces. Ever. Think about it. Just think.

I think that on my list of 100 Things That Make Me Happy, getting more than 20 Timbits in a 20 pack is a solid climber. I always count them as I eat them and sometimes I try to be extra friendly to the cashier so she throws in some more sour cream glazed.

I was in a grocery store a few weeks ago (back when I consumed a real meal that contained food from a once living organism) and saw egg nog in the dairy section. Egg nog! In October?! People, this is ridiculous. I can't stand the holidays being jammed down my throat when I haven't even bought my 50% off Hallowe'en candy yet! But the nog sure was delicious. So creamy...

Why are AM radio stations so static filled? I've been doing a lot of driving lately and because even I can't listen to that stupid Akon song more than 11 times in an afternoon, I've been tuning into talk radio. Plus it makes me feel smarter. Like when I watch the CBC. Not CBC, the CBC.

How are Nielsen ratings produced? How do they know how many people watched a certain show last night? How?!?

There is no fathomable way that the words "Thanks a lot" can be interpreted as nice. Try texting or emailing them - totally sarcastic and bitchy. Even try saying them out loud, as I just did, they still sound rude and insincere. Why is that?

Why are many of my Randomness bullets filled with questions? Is there really that much that I don't know? Huh? Well, is there?

Couple Query

What is with these couples who spend their time together at Walmart or Ikea on a Friday night? It is my belief that the women are dragging their men to accompany them while they do errands and pick out the most plush toilet paper. Am I the only one that thinks this is a sad state of affairs? I am all for spending time with the one you love, and I understand the joy of doing the mundane with your partner, but surely there must be something better to do as a couple on a Saturday night.

The men never look pleased to be there. Watching these couples is like seeing a walking snapshot of marital unhappiness. It makes me wince. Everyone in the whole world is so busy that it would seem to me that the little time a couple gets together should be spent where both parties are happy.

I really enjoy doing errands on my own. I get a sense of accomplishment and it's time for me to be alone. I would never (yes, I know I have the luxury of not being married when I say this) make my husband join me on a trip to Home Depot to buy new lightbulbs on a Saturday afternoon. Nor would I expect him to make me come with him to put gas in the car, or whatever he does. I feel like women (yes, again, I am generalizing) feel slighted by doing household errands that they want the husband to participate/be miserable as well.

I've been in a lot of Home Depots, Ikeas and Walmarts the past weeks and see it time and again, someone being dragged along. Why can't we compromise that I will go do this and you do that and we meet together when we can have fun? Am I wrong on this one? Have I just being seeing the wrong couples? Are there couples out there who walk through the aisles like they're in a commercial?

The return...

I have surfaced. The past several weeks have been the busiest of the year for me. LG Fashion Week in Toronto has completely monopolized my time. 19 hour days, meals from gas stations or Starbucks, stiletto mangled feet, sleeping on the floor, and the most vicious of catfights have filled my life.

But it is over now. For another season. I still have a really busy week in Hamilton, but I can finally breath a little easier and sleep a little longer. And more importantly, blog a little more often! Yes, dear readers, I know you have been going through a minor withdrawal. You know who you are.

Tuesday, October 6, 2009

Glee hee hee

Are you people watching Glee yet? You really ought to be. I hate to sound like TV Guide, but it really is the best new show on television. I don't have cable so I have very limited access to what the bunny ears will allow me to watch. I am blessed to get this show - it's hilarious, sharp, and every episode has at least 2 full blown song and dance numbers.

Don't let that scare you away - these 'kids' are so talented they give me goosebumps. A lot of the songs they do are current pop songs - there's something great about hearing Beyonce's "Single Ladies" sang by a bunch of high schoolers. I live for the song and dance parts and usually I'm turned off by that sort of thing.
No laugh track, Jane Lynch, very cute boys, and just the right amount of Celine Dion - what's not to love?

Saturday of Sweat and Strain

This past Saturday was Indirect Work Out Saturday. Everything I did ended up with me sweating and experiencing muscle pain the next day.

1) Helping lovely friends move from a house in Hamilton to an apartment in Toronto. I had romantic ideas of how this would be - it seemed like a movie scene or a rite of passage, helping someone move. Turns out: not that much fun! It didn't help that they moved into a place that looked like this:Stairs everywhere - stairs to get to stairs! However, their place is pretty retro-cute and in an absolutely fabulous location. I covet that neighbourhood. I'm looking forward to being that "friend from Hamilton we can't get rid of."

Sweat, blood, tears (no one saw, though) and strained muscles. And yes, people, my face was red - I was exerting more energy and effort than I have all month. And last month. Get over it.

2) Salsa dancing. Yeah. Everyone that I told about these plans wished me sincere luck...not a great sign. Salsa dancing isn't something I would normally do, but I'm a Yes Woman and I like the challenge. I wore a silk dress with a ruffle that I expected would do most of the work for me. Deep in the heart of Portugal-town at a place called Lula Lounge I met my peeps. I didn't know anyone except SB, but the men were actually professional dancers. One had actually been on Dancing with the Stars. Canada, I presume, but still.

It was like going to Havana in the 1960's - an actual supper club with raised tables and a centre dance floor. The type of place where you'd expect to find cigarette girls. And great mojitos. Didn't though, now that I think about it. Dinner was surpisingly unremarkable, but the wine went down nicely. Then there was the lesson. Me and my ruffle learned salsa, merengue, the cha-cha and some other dance that seemed pretty much like all 3 put together.

What happened after that lesson I can't really account for as it seems like I was in a dream sequence. I ended up dancing with the Wonderful Dancer to countless songs and it was an out-of-body experience. I was twirling all over the floor, shimmying, two-stepping, we even did that Saturday Night Fever move where you have your arm behind their head and then slide down. You know what I mean? It was phenomenal! I actually can't even believe it was me. I was just holding on for dear life and trying not to fall - it made such a difference having a great partner. I didn't need to know what to do, he just made it look great and so much fun. The ruffle didn't hurt either.

But again, lots of energy exerted. At one point I got that cramp you get after running down the block. I mean, not the block, down many more blocks than one. Many.
I love love loved the dancing so much I thought about getting into it, but the truth is I don't really care to learn, I just want to recreate that night and let someone else lead.

3) You actually thought I would divulge the final activity that could or could not have occured after 1am? Come on now.

Friday, October 2, 2009

Mad driving skillz, cubed.

I'm quite adept at driving the 16' cube truck. No, really. I do almost every week for work as we schlep chandeliers, sofas, floral arrangements etc. around town. There has only been one mishap (the other one doesn't count because no one saw it and we don't need sandwich boards anyway) over the year and half since I first got behind the wheel.

It was TIFF '08, I was rushing to the Swarovski opening to get these male models their tuxedos. In Yorkville. During rush hour. There was one of those orange diamond construction signs - maybe something like this:I pulled up beside it then for some reason jumped the curb and drove over it while dragging it alongside my truck. In front of a sidewalk patio - some people actually jumped up from their tables to avoid my path of destruction. Bit of an overreaction, don't you think ma'am? Once I realized what I was doing, there was nothing else to do but reverse to get off the curb and sign. That noise again, the stares, the pitiful expression on my face that I hoped said:

"Oooh, my God, I'm so sorry. This has never happened before. I'm so embarrassed, yet still fully capable, you need not worry. Eeee, sooorrry, you guys."

But coupled with the damage and the fact that I was wearing a cocktail dress and looked about 17, it probably said:

"Heee hee hee, I've never even driven before. Don't have my licence. Hahaheeha, but aren't I cute. You should all think I'm adorable and not care that some metals shards have just landed in your Cobb salad. Tee hee."

I originally started this post with the intention of writing about my truck driving experience today, but it turns out, I'm no longer in the mood. Happy trails.

Text like you MEAN it

Ok, seriously, what is up with everyone? Why so sensitive? Is it me? Do people not understand my humour? I recently went out with this guy a couple times and thought he seemed pretty cool. Tall, funny, the usual stuff. He wasn't as sarcastic as I would have liked but it's not like I had to explain my jokes to him or anything and in person he was good with the banter. After our second date, that was pretty baffling in a separate way, we texted a few times and I made what I thought was an innocent, yet relevant joke. Then nothing! Nothin'! He had asked me out before this joke and then nothing!

Apparently, according to the friends tribunal, his ego was bruised (he was the tender age of 35 - my ceiling) and/or he couldn't take the good-natured ribbing. I even tried to smooth things over and still nothin'. So, it turns out, not as cool as I originally thought. Are men babies? Am I meaner than I think I am. It's baffling.

The second text disaster I made was with this other guy (also over 35, interestingly) who was talking about getting new tires. He joked that his life has been reduced to tires and I replied something about how he wasn't a re-tread with me. Funny? Punny, at least? Well, I thought it was, but the response I got leads me to believe he wasn't impressed.

I'm concluding that it has to be the texts! It has to be! This communication medium is really not working for me. I'm managing to alienate and altogether turn away people I like. No one cares that I have perfect spelling and grammatical form in these texts. Or that I reply promptly. Or that I don't go overboard on emoticons. One joke or stupid pun and it's over. There is a great need for a sarcasm font or emoticon. Maybe one with this kind of face:

It may not be limited to texting, however. My mother recently said, "I'd wouldn't like to meet the girl who writes your blog. She's mean." I don't have the heart to tell her we're the same person.