The Holidays

Aren’t the holidays wonderful? I mean, really, really lovely. I felt this way a couple times this week. The first time was around 2pm on Friday afternoon as I left a client’s holiday party. It’s so great to be able to drink wine and eat chocolates and huge pieces of beef in the middle of the work day. Seems so decadent and far away from work. Plus, everyone is always so cheerful and filled with festive camaraderie that you end up hugging and kissing people you don’t even like. Come January, I’ll still grimace as you approach, but right now, inspired by the boss’ homemade wine, you are a dear friend. Everyone seems to act differently.

I chased that feeling into the evening by stopping at The Alex to provide a ‘customer review’ on the new pinot grigio and to eat a veal sandwich while enjoying the pre-dinner rush ambiance. It’s so nice to have the whole evening stretching ahead with no formal plans, just flitting from friend to friend. Seems even nicer at the holidays.

Next, I headed to Susan and Chris’ house for dinner, cute baby bonding and some hickey story sharing. I had a lovely time even though Chris decided to show off his IPhone skills by pasting my head onto some weird picture. On the way home, I decided to finally fill the void in my Mariah Carey collection – it’s everything I hoped it would be.

Just a few days left until 17 blissful days of nothing. Or everything. But either way, shortbread will be involved.

The Glamourous Life

There’s no way to pretend these magazines aren’t sitting on my coffee table as I type right now and they’re pretty central to this post, so I’ll just say it. Yes, sometimes I read Glamour magazine. Unnecessary, yet somewhat obligatory justification: I don’t have a subscription, I only borrow from the library, I do not read Cosmopolitan – Glamour is the Thinking Woman’s fluff.

Whatever. Go back to your Sartre.

I was glancing over the covers today and I had to laugh – the feature headlines intended to grab my attention are pretty hilarious. I completely understand why men think we are crazy. Here is a sampling, what today’s woman is referring to as she manoeuvers through the world:

- Nine Ways To Never Feel Tired – Other than Sleep, Continue Sleeping, and Lay Down For A Second, I can’t imagine what else they could tell us. Don’t give me that exercise crap.
- What Men Notice When You’re Naked – Well, this is actually helpful. I’ve always wondered. Instep of my left foot? Back of knees? Winning personality? Elbows? I’m going to read that one. I’ll let you know.
- The Magic 2 Minute Updo – I’m presuming this is also called That Scrunchie You Have In Your Drawer. Yep, That One. Bring It Out.
- 10 Things More Important Than Those Last Five Pounds – this was right beside The Female Stress Crisis. Hmm.
- Jennifer Lopez ‘That Tiger’s Still In There’ – Oh brother. And she’s wearing a leopard print bustier. Yes, Block Jenny, we get it – you’re still wild and caliente.
- Do Your Clothes Flatter Your Face? – I mean, other than making sure my clothes don’t cover my face, what more can I do? Try and match the shade of my eyebrows?
- 10 Most Wearable Dresses – What is this?? Who is buying dresses for a purpose other than wearing them??
- Carrie Underwoood – How Marriage Has Changed Her – Uh, well, she probably has to stop seeing other men, but no, no, it must really affect her music.

So, there you have it. This is what the modern girls are equipped with as they go about their lives. Best of luck to everyone.

Widespread Lunacy

Did you know that if you buy a condo in Toronto, specifically on Queen West, it’s not an all-inclusive package? If you would like walls, room dividers or drywall of any sort, this is an upgrade. If you would like flooring, this is extra. Forget about taps and faucets. Bathroom tiles are additional. I’m not kidding! My friend bought a place the size of my garage – her estimate, not mine – about 3 years ago and is slated to get the key in January. To prepare for move in, she has to select flooring and walls. Seriously, walls! Otherwise, she’s living on concrete slabs with exposed 2x4 beams. This is the craziest thing I’ve ever heard. Do people just want to be in that neighbourhood so badly that they will go without the main components of basic shelter? I must look like a queen with my windowpanes full of glass, functioning doorknobs and light switches. I had better not tell her about my finished ceilings. Lunacy.

Did you know that if you are applying to the school board as a teacher in the Hamilton area and you have the same birthday as a registered sex offender, you are subjected to a 3 month screening process? This major delay provides the authorities time to go through your background and information with a fine toothed comb to make sure that your birthday is, in fact, the only similarity between you and Pedophile Joe. Seriously, are people idiots? How does having the same birthday as someone turn you into them or make you identical to them in any way? This makes me so frustrated. I happen to have the same birthday as Charlie Sheen and Emperor Go-Sanjo. Does this mean that you should think that I have had experience being the first emperor of Japan or that I know what rock bottom looks like from Hollywood Boulevard? How does this MAKE ANY SENSE!?!? Lunacy.

Did you know that I hate UFC (Ultimate Fighting Challenge – for you, Mom) more than almost anything? Ok, so this doesn’t exactly fall into the same category as the previous two items, but I do find it to be complete lunacy. I somehow found myself at an acquaintance’s birthday in Brantford on Saturday night - her 30th. Even though it was Brantford, I expected cocktails (OK, fine - beer), lively crowds, young, attractive people with something going for them and a little bit of Saturday night fun. What I found when I showed up (big fishing it in the small pond with my satin tuxedo jacket and stilettos – come on people, it’s the holidays!) was a group of a dozen people in a back room sitting around a table with a sad, sad poinsettia tablecloth watching UFC. The room was almost silent, save for the occasional groans and outbursts of “Caah-mawwwn”. This is her 30th birthday? The women there seemed to be phoning it in for their boyfriends’ sakes, most of whom were really into it.

I just stared at the screen for a minute before I started texting my Plan B and thought the same thing I do every time I’m subjected to it: “Man, this sucks. It’s so revolting and boring and inane. What are they doing that for?! It’s essentially just aggressive cuddling by the ugliest men with cauliflower faces. Why is this a ‘viable entertainment source’?” I just don’t get it. Maybe it’s because I’m a girl. Maybe I haven’t given it a fair chance. But I just don’t see the merit in it. To me, it reminds me of bar fights I would see when I was 19 that made me sick to my stomach and really scared. I don’t see the talent required – it just seems to be a macho show of testosterone and violence. Now, before someone freaks out and says I’m close-minded and snobby and I have no idea what I'm talking about, I’ll say this: please be quiet.

The really sad thing is that last Saturday when my friend Paul and I found ourselves at an Ugly Sweater party, another UFC match was on and I had the same thoughts go through my head. That time it was in Binbrook, but everything else was exactly the same. I remember thinking then that I really don’t want to end up with someone who sees this as an enjoyable and acceptable way to spend Saturday nights. I like the idea of getting together with friends for a televised sporting event, like the Super Bowl or something. Food, laughs, friends – that’s all great. And I love Swedish meatballs more than anyone. But I couldn’t be with someone who is so into it and takes it very seriously. Quite simply, it’s a turn-off – both the ‘sport’ and anyone who loves it as much as some people I’ve seen lately.

He's onto it

I'm pretty sure this is the year that my brother figured out something was up with the whole Santa charade. Wait a minute....

Best to click on the pic to see the full reaction.

Katy, this is mostly for you. :)

Falalalala

I am that neighbour. I’m the one who is out in the middle of a snowstorm putting up her garland and bows. In November. I will judge your decorations if you ever get around to them. Slacker. They will likely not be real as mine are and I will feel superior. Never mind that my real boxwood were leftovers from my company party – they still count as better. I’m really happy with the way it turned out – looks very classic and festive. Now, all I have to do is finish raking the leaves and it will look like Christmas. Or I can wait until spring for that.

Why are those eco-lightbulbs so ugly looking? I should mention this to Al Gore.

Inside, I am pretty pleased as well. I only have one box of decorations that is filled with hand-me-downs and garage sale finds. But with these small bits I have managed to make it beautiful in here. It’s all about the bows this year – I put bows on everything. I considered putting some on the kitchen taps, but that seemed weird.

I have an old tree stand that I bargained to get for 25 cents at a garage sale. This is what I was relying on to support my Christmas tree. I went to Ikea for their famous $20 tree (with a rebate for the New Year) and spent 5 minutes pretending to really evaluate the needles and the trunk thickness before I just grabbed the one that was closest to my car and was the least dead.

I would just like to take a moment to praise my little Mazda hatchback. Not only did this tree fit in easily, it has also managed to tote a regulation size surfboard, 18 boxes of 8’ feathers (what sort of bird are they from??), 125 throw pillows, and 4 chandeliers. Remarkable.

Hoisting the tree from the car, through the house and into the sturdy stand was challenging and I’m not sure if the stand screws are meant to go right into the tree, but it seemed to work out. If you look from the back, it’s a little tilted, but who looks from the back?

I learned this weekend that the rule for Christmas tree lights is to have 100 lights for every foot of tree height plus 10% extra. So, I should have had about 660 lights. I only had 400 and I think it was ok. I went with a blue and green theme that started when I found these really beautiful ornaments at a bazaar – they’re such an unusual shade of green.

The navy ones I bought looked a little black – like Tim Burton’s Christmas tree. But, I like the effect.

Aren’t these Christmas cards perfect for me? I’m pretty sure they fashioned her after my Saturday afternoon errand routine. Even with the long strides and sunglasses!

Eye-opening Experience

The last few Saturdays, I have done something I have never done before.
- Segways
- Bought homemade soap while drinking homemade cider while wearing a homemade scarf – all of which likely were made partly from hemp
- Slept off baby shower drunkenness then awoke at 1:15am to go out and start my night

And this past Saturday it was dining in the dark. We hit up O Noir on Church Street where you eat completely in pitch blackness and are served by blind waiters. It was Elo’s birthday and to me, she didn’t look a day older. But how could I tell?

We ordered out in the light and then were introduced to our waiter Victor who led us into the abyss like kindergartners – our hand on the person’s shoulder in front of us. Several baby steps and a constant worry about non-existent stairs later, we arrived at our table and fumbled for the seat.

The entire dinner I kept waiting for my eyes to adjust. They never did. It truly was pitch darkness and it was quite an experience. Eventually it felt like my eyes were in pain as they were struggling to find light with no reprieve. I tried closing my eyes for a while, but that was strange too.

Highlights:
- Paul and Ryan kept trying to high-five each other and hitting Elo in the face
- “I just got a fork full of nothing”
- “Julie, are you still here?”
- “Aw man, I just put my butter ball in my wine.”
- Paul ‘accidentally’ got to first base with me
- I’m pretty sure I ate my napkin at one point
- We all ended up attacking our food with our hands as utensils proved too difficult
- I was talking about our waiter when all of a sudden he had sidled up and busted me.

- Ever try buttering your roll with your fingers?
- We were served something that most definitely was not calamari. My best guesses are erasers or mushrooms.

It was a cool thing to do, but I can’t imagine needing to go back – the food was so-so and I spent most of the time clutching my wine so it wouldn’t topple. Telling stories was more difficult without facial cues and gestures. After an hour and a half we all wanted to get back into the light. I do recommend it however – I don’t think I’ve even been in the dark like that before. Not since I watched Inception.

The reviews are in

This Saturday I bought a copy of the Hamilton Spectator – the only time I do that is when I or someone I know is featured. Or, you know, when I have to pack breakables or line a hamster cage.

This time it was for the review of The Alex – the restaurant in Burlington that you should have tried by now. The review was glowing and that’s all great, but for me, it was sullied by the embarrassing writing style of the reviewer.

http://www.thespec.com/whatson/restaurants/article/279273--nifty-newcomer-is-an-homage-to-tapas

John Kernaghan does the reviews and I wish the article had supplied a picture of him (yes, I’m just too lazy to go find it online) because I find that when I hate someone’s writing, I need to know what they look like. The same thing is true when I’m driving behind someone really slow or oblivious. That’s why there are plenty of pictures of my mug on this site, so if you hate it, you can match the annoyance with my pretty face.

Here are some of the literary gem nuggets (n.b. ‘literary gem nuggets’ being one on its own):

“Chef Matthew Kershaw has fashioned a menu with interesting twists and turns producing excellent results.” This reads like a M. Night Shyamalan movie review. A bad one. It’s such a cheesy sentence.

“They jumped with flavour and sat on coarse mango slaw enlivened with a lime-mint-honey dressing.” I hate when people describe cooked food with verbs. If my shrimp is still jumping around, there are larger fish to fry.

“The meat was tender in two-bite pieces with a lush potato pillow … with a delightful chorus of tomato, fennel and bacon.” This sentence bugs me the most. Was it really necessary to indicate how big the pieces of pork were? Will he next tell me, in his opinion, how many chews it will take to finish the pieces? I can’t think of a more ridiculous phrase than “lush potato pillow”. It’s gnocchi, John, stop making it so sensual. Chorus?!? Come on!! Argh.

“A third item left fast-food bacon features in its lively dust.” Well, I should hope so. Are you comparing The Alex’s Trio of Bacon to Wendy’s Baconator? Are you!?!?

It’s just all so phony. Listen, people, the gist of this post is:
Go to The Alex. It’s awesome. But, if you ask for the lush potato pillows or to have your bacon livened up, I should hope that you’ll be asked to leave.

Oh, and yes, for those who are sitting there thinking, “Wow, she’s such a bitch. I doubt she could write something better” well, you’re both right and wrong. I am and I can.
I will.

Randomness

Every once in a while a single girl happens upon a date that challenges everything she thought she knew about her dating and screening process. Somehow I managed to be intrigued by someone enough to agree to a second date who during the course of our first date:

- Began by spitting out his gum at the table
- Enlightened me about the causes and detrimental effects of gout…for over 10 minutes
- Accused me of not knowing who The Rolling Stones were. They’re like, what, some British band, or something?

Perhaps he was redeemed by complimenting my shoes and being a gentleman by shielding me from the rain on the way to my car. It’s very simple, guys. Also, there was that very amusing bit where I huffily referred to a Britney Spears song as a ‘viable entertainment source’. Yeah, that was my low. Turned out to be hilarious.
Dating is a mystery.
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Have you heard that Anne Hathaway and James Franco will be hosting the Oscars this year? Dru, I’m mainly talking to you. Katy and I have agreed that this is a poor choice as neither one of them is particularly enjoyable as their ‘real’ selves. Anne is pretty grating.


I’m holding out for the year when Tina Fey and/or Steve Carrell host. Or Joan Cusack and/or Hugh Grant – my favourite comedic actors. Yes, Hugh Grant is funny! Shut it.
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I am not a squeamish girl. Well, not really. I can take care of business and….I’m sitting here trying to think of something disgusting that I am able to do without gagging. Hmm. Well, whatever, I’m not that bad.


However, there is something about seeing a mouse in a trap that makes me shriek every single time. This one had his eyes still open. Wraulagh. That is how I think the shudder/ugh noise I just made is spelled.
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Something strange is happening. Over the last 2 months I have heard Lou Bega’s Mambo No. 5 on the radio quite a bit. At least 6 or 7 times. For a one hit wonder that everyone but me hated, that is a lot. Is it now campy and making a comeback?

I always get so excited the one time a year when a Spice Girls song comes on the radio – is it possible that Lou Bega’s success is surpassing the Spice Girls? It could be that I listen to super lame radio stations based out of places like Kitchener and Guelph where this music is still hip. I fear for the day when I am listening to the radio and have no idea the songs that are being played. It’s already happening a bit – who is this Justin Beiber kid?
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In case you ever wonder what a vanilla pudding cup looks like after the seal is broken. And if you are ever stupid enough to not notice and buy it anyway.
Wonder no more. There’s nothing that makes you feel more like a successful grown up than saying to a 16 year old cashier, “I would like to exchange my pudding cup please.”
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This is one of my favourite sights – a package left at my door! Hurrah! Also good is the September issue of any fashion magazine in the mailbox or that one time last month when someone mysteriously left me a crab cake on the doorstep.

Since I’m hoping to do most of my shopping online this year, this should be a common sight. Better than that weird gas nozzle I found in the mailbox this spring.

It's here...

Ok, it's official, people: Christmas is here. It is exactly one month until the day. I have now heard my favourite Christmas song, seen egg nog on grocery shelves and been to my first holiday party. There's no turning back.


I'm going to get my own Christmas tree this weekend - a very exciting first for me. Well, on my own, I mean. I have a possibly crappy tree stand that I bought at a garage sale and a couple ornaments I picked up too. I expect to have a very sparse set-up this year because I like a tree to be trimmed with unique and sentimental ornaments, rather than buying a matchy matchy set. Maybe I'll festoon it with popcorn and cranberries. Anyone want to come over and string them for me? Sounds tedious.


Even though I seem to be the last person on earth still buying CDs, I would like to pick this one up. Somehow it got overlooked in my Mariah Carey collection, but it's full of gems. She looks like a minx.

This year I'm going to do things differently. I may have said this before. I plan on sending out my Christmas cards by December 3. Instead of spending 4 days baking a variety of cookies, many of which don't turn out, I am going to simplify and focus. 3 or 4 recipes that are proven great like thumbprints, shortbread and nanaimo bars. No more stupid gingerbread with broken necks and crumbly knees. I'm also going to do as much shopping online as possible. Books, you're all getting books! I'm going to try and eat more ham.

The Baby Event 2010

It's baby time again! Just last November I was hosting a baby shower for another friend. This time it is lovely Katy who is up next to deliver the next generation. Based on the disastrous cake from last year, http://winniecoopertellsall.blogspot.com/2009/11/baby-event.html (I should probably know how to make this just a link, not the whole address, but whatever) we made this one a potluck and ordered a cake:

Since Katy isn't going to find out the sex of the baby, I wasn't really sure what to write on the cake. It was either this or "Knocked Up!"

It's so wonderful when you're lucky enough to genuinely like your friend's friends. The major life moments always bring you together and it's a pleasure when you actually enjoy their company. Well, except for that Emma chick, who I believe introduced me to her mother as "Dunno, some crazy girl who won't leave."

These showers always prove to be effective birth control for single girls like me - seriously, why does that baby nose story keep getting retold!?!? It must be true! *shiver*

There was lots of great food and I managed to find more wine than I expected, so that was wonderful. Also wonderful was the end of the day when the die-hards sat around reading about the upcoming royal wedding and eating deli meat on the couch.

I didn't subject everyone to any awful shower games but instead we got to prove how removed we are from reality by naming celebrity babies. If you want to play, here you go - how celebrity culture obsessed are you?

Congrats Katy!!
Ok, which of my friends is up for 2011? I have a guess...

Commence Eye Rolling Sequence

I know I keep posting about the online creatures I'm coming across, but I can't help it - I find it so entertaining. Who do these guys think they are? More importantly, what are they reading in my profile that leads them to believe they should be messaging me??

This guy emailed today with the following in the email subject:

Did an angel fall from the skies above?

But he wasn't kidding around and being purposely cheesy. In the email he kept calling me princess. In fact, he wasn't the only one who did that today. Don't call me princess. That's weird.

Speaking of weird things guys do (well, actually more annoying) there is this one guy texting me in the strangest fashion. He'll send me one sentence texts one right after another. Is he unable to piece his thoughts together in one text? Why the bombardment? Listen guy, I don't have an unlimited text package and from what I can tell, you're not worth the extra 15 cents. Besides, I'm pretty sure I've already stated my rule about texts from guys who are 'courting' me: either be funny or flirty. Otherwise, don't bother me.

By posting this, I've pretty much decided that he's not for me - I can never show him my blog. But I think I'm okay with that. Here is an actual transcript of the texts he sent me within a one minute span:

- But we have multigrain dough
- But it has a higher fat content
- But it's supposed to be a good fat
- Should be interesting

Yeah, unlike your texting, guy. Who talks about dough that much?! Delete.

Mouse in the House

Have you ever tried to bait a mouse trap? It's nearly impossible. This is a necessary task since I saw a mouse scamper across the floor last week. It's weird to shriek the way I did with no one around. It's like when you trip on the street by yourself and you wish you had someone to laugh about it with, but instead you're embarrassed.

I used peanut butter on the trap - there's no way I'm giving up my cheese! It's a nerveracking thing trying to set it and just as I was about to give up, my Dad stopped by and saved the day.

Everyone morning for the next 4 days, it was like Christmas morning. I ran excitedly upstairs to see if anything had been caught. Disappointment each day. Just when I was thinking the mouse was a figment of my imagination, this morning I was delighted to find a little mouse decapitated by my trap! Hurrah!

It was a small brown and white mouse - it looked like a fieldmouse that you would find in a children's book. One that would be named Charlie or something and be friends with a wise owl and a mischevious fox. Ah, well.

I left the mouse in the trap all day to send a message to the other mice in the area. Steer clear - I mean business. Plus, I'm a little reluctant to pick it up and throw it out. Ok, ok, fine, I will.

Randomness

Life is funny sometimes. Just when life bums you out by a lost friendship, other people pop into your life to fill that void. When one person rides the crazy train on out, there’s someone else waiting at the station. (Weak metaphor, I know. But I just really wanted to use the phrase ‘crazy train’. Thank you for your understanding.)

I’ve been fortunate to rekindle some great friendships that actually have the ability to go the distance and, if I am to be honest, are probably much better for me overall. It’s like that super cheesy saying about some friends being around for a reason, a season and a lifetime.
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I’ve decided that I would like to become Hamilton’s answer to the socialite. No, this does not mean that my family owns a prestigious Hamilton hotel chain – Visitor’s Inn, anyone? – or that we invented steel. Instead, I will be interpreting it by slowly, but surely becoming a presence on the Hamilton scene.


I am young (or at least the same age as Paris and the hot Kardashian sister), stylish (it’s so wonderful to be a big fish in a small pond) and upwardly mobile. Well, maybe not this month – I may be eating grilled cheese while I write this - but it's in the plan.


Recently, I’ve attended a United Way fundraising dinner at Edgewater Manor, the Hamilton Club for drinks, the AGH Sacks & The City event and tonight I am going to an event at Milli featuring Kimberly Newport-Mimran of Pink Tartan. This is a pretty good week for a Hamiltonian.

Working at my company, I am meeting lots of influential players and Hamilton notables. Since I’ve put down some roots here for a while, I think I would like to explore the possibilities here fully. Yes, I recognize that this will require the exploitation of my friends higher up the social ladder than I, but I will reciprocate with baked goods. Look out Hammer!
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Ok, I really need to figure out how much pasta is an appropriate amount for a girl who has already eaten potato chips and some cottage cheese to have for dinner. Every time I end up making way too much and then I feel bad for not being able to finish it. And there is nothing sadder than reheated pasta. I’m talking Cathy comic sad. I think Tupperware makes some sort of contraption - Christmas list alert.
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Dating is hard. It just is. Sure, it can be awesome, but even when you like the person, it can be hard. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could just sit down with each other and say, “I like you but….” or “I don’t like you because…..” or “I liked you until you did this….” or "I don't like you enough to travel to Toronto...." and save everyone time and energy trying to figure out what they’re thinking. Argh.

Segway Queen

There are few things better than getting an email from a friend mid-week inviting me to do something I’ve never done before. I wish this happened more often. Ok, there are more than a few things better, but still, it’s pretty great.

I’m a big fan of trying new things and as long as it doesn’t involve much bloodshed, I’m down. Some bloodshed is acceptable, but not a lot.

The Fabulous Five (I might start calling our little faction that) gathered at the Distillery in Toronto. Side note: the traffic situation in and on the way to Toronto is out of control. Maybe I’ve forgotten how it goes since being within a 6 minute drive of my work since April, but I hate to be reminded. It’s the WORST.

Ok, lovely Julie organized a segway ghost tour of the Distillery. I’ve never been on a segway before and other than watching Gob on Arrested Development, I didn’t really know much about them. Turns out, they are the most fun 2 wheeled vehicle I’ve ever been on!

I thought they were motorized wheelies that you operate with hand brakes – nuh uh. It’s all in the balance and your feet. If you want to go, you put the weight in your toes, to slow down, put the weight in your heels. It’s a very unusual sensation when you first get on and it takes a little getting used to. But before long, we were zipping around like pros. I want to do it again!

Naturally, we put a stop to the ghost story part and asked to just zip around. We were like a gang. With helmets. Somehow (aka I lunged for it) I got the one that was bedazzled from earlier in the day when Santa Claus rode it at the mall. I was posing and smiling all lovely for this picture as Ryan's camera took forever and then at the last second, as I was about to crash into the guy, he snapped. That is why I look possessed.
Most fun I had all week and that includes that great story Tracy told about her boyfriend’s watch. That was a gem too.

Come on, guy.

Ok, I'm sure this is a major breach of confidentiality and I might have agreed to some sort of terms that prohibits this kind of thing, but I have to share this with the world. Or at least my world.

The following is from an online profile from this dude that tried to chat with me. I can't stop laughing. Is he for real messaging me??

-has kids
-under employment he's listed ODSP
-his interest is: a easygoin responcible girl that can treat me right
-"im a out spoken person and easy goin i like the outdoors,sports and long walkes i like all sortes of music im thinkin of going back too school for my grade twelve need to settle down getin old lol"
-for a first date he would take a girl to a "well-maintained restaurant"

Why do these people think they can message me!?!
Oh, one more thing, his username is freeky69er.

Gym torture

Ok, forget the gym kick I was on. That was not working out. Compared to the torture I was subjected to last night by Paul, my personal trainer/person who hates me, the workouts I’ve been doing previously are like those Saturday mornings where you’re awake but just get to lie in bed for a little while.

I have never hurt like this before…including that week in Cuba where I burned myself to a crisp then spent 3 hours on a donkey up a cactus hill.

There is something very unsettling and all around bad about having one of your friends squeeze, pinch and prod you without at least making out first. I’m only kidding, Mom! But really, we had to go into this little room where he weighed me, determined my fat content and (the most awful part) took “before” pictures. That was not expected. Or pleasant.

I sort of thought we were just going to go through the motions and gossip about our friends – I didn’t think he would end up knowing everything about my body. Friends shouldn’t say to friends: “I see, you carry all of the weight around your waist.” But then he followed it up with: “Wow, those pants really DO make your ass look amazing” and “Most of my clients would say that you’re already skinny.” Forgiven. So, why did he have to work me so hard?? What’s wrong with a status quo figure?

Since I’ve heard him grumble about the clients who don’t put the effort in and are always complaining, I tried my best to suck it up when it hurt and I didn’t throw up. He’s set me up with a plan and it sounds to me that if I do it all properly, there will be less gym time, but better gym time. Plus, he said when he takes the “After” picture, I could wear makeup and get my hair done.

After that ordeal, I decided I deserved something wonderful so I headed to the Alex on Brant Street in Burlington – have you been to this place yet? It’s only the best new restaurant from an ex-boyfriend of mine EVER! There I had my favourite dish – black cod over lobster and orzo. I am a big fan of orzo. It’s like rice, but so much better. Like elegant starch. Had a lovely meal at the bar while I read my Vanity Fair - almost forgot all about gym. Except my legs wouldn’t stop shaking and driving home, I stalled twice because I couldn’t push the clutch in. Here goes nothing…

Sigh.

Random guy emails me and I don't respond.
15 minutes later, from the same guy, I get this email:

"I know you read my email. One chace is all I ask only one you seen to be very interasting."

I respond:
"Yes, I know you can see when I read your email. Are you suggesting that I am required to respond to you right away?

I'll be honest, I'm looking for someone who has a little more to offer from their profile and someone who doesn't send me a follow-up email that is rife with spelling errors."

Too harsh?

Mevember

I am on a kick. A kick, people! It has been nearly two weeks without junk food. Well, except for a couple mini Hallowe'en chocolate bars and that cupcake at the bank - it would have been rude to refuse their customer appreciation. This is monumental.

In addition, I went to the gym four times last week and already twice this week - it's Wednesday! I credit the LuluLemon pants for inspiring me. They really make me look so good, it's a shame not to trot them out. What sort of Spandex are in those?!?

Tomorrow, I am meeting with my personal trainer/drinking buddy to run me through an evaluation and work-out. I'm pretty nervous for the results, considering the last time I had my fat content measured it was 33% body fat. Yes, I am what you call skinny fat. It's killing me quietly from the inside :).

Many people who meet me often think that I am/was athletic and really into sports - especially volleyball and basketball - must be the height. I am completely not. I mean, it's no surprise they think that given my naturally athletic moves - present since childhood:

(If you can see the ball, you're better than me - it looks like I don't know the goal of this game.)

(And what is up with my legs here - I'm pretty sure they're operating independent of my body. But, boy, am I excited to reach first base. _________insert obvious joke here__________)

And somehow, in ninth grade, I managed to get onto the Delta Girls' Athletic Council. The GAC was a big deal back then and I remember sitting around with all the cool girls in their shorts from soccer practice feeling very out of place. I was probably wearing corduroy from my paper route. I didn't play one single sport in high school, but once I filled in for a scorekeeper at boys' basketball, so that's pretty much the same thing.

Maybe the council needed a 'token lazy' for equality reasons.

I really better buy another pair of LuluLemon pants if I want this streak of exercise to continue. To be perfectly honest though, sometimes I only go to the gym for 20 minutes - but I figure even that is better than nothing. Certainly better than sitting on the couch watching another 30Rock rerun and eating grilled cheese.

I'm even growing my nails, taking vitamins and finally raking my lawn. It's like a whole new me. It's Mevember. Weak, I know. But, I'm getting stronger....

Costume Line-up

A chronicle of recent and not so recent Hallowe'en costumes. Look at all the buns! Next year, I'm going to pick a costume that has long, free-flowing, crazy hair. Maybe Rapunzel?

1999. This costume was a labour of love. My friend's mom toiled for many evenings to make these for us. Mine was pretty huge on me, but it's still pretty great.

2006. This was obviously a costume I came up with last minute. I'm talking 20 minutes-to-get-out-the-door last minute. I was in library school at the time, so it was fitting. I needed a book to complete the libarian look so my mom gave me a Bible. She said I should leave it at the party so someone might pick it up and be converted. Instead, I'm afraid someone probably used it to prop up a keg.

2007. Ok, another bun. And have you ever seen a "Japanese" person with bigger eyes? Seriously. Ridiculous, but essentially I got to wear my bathrobe to work. And slippers. The funny this is that I was working at a waitress at a private golf club and was scheduled to work in the men's solarium that day. Women weren't allowed and it was pretty much an old boys' club. Having a leggy geisha in there didn't really help matters. Yes, I heard every comment that drunk mid-life crisis guys could come up with. And yes, that is Wonder Woman next to me. Fabulous.

2008. Bun city. And gangly limbs. I think those elbows could poke an eye out. I clearly don't remember any ballet positions from age 6 and it's obvious I don't know what to do with my body here. I made that tutu with a stapler. I can do anything with a stapler and guarantee that it will hold up for at least 20 minutes.

Online update

Attention online daters:

"I am moving to your area and am looking for a long-term relationship" is not an acceptable opening email. This is not actually an acceptable statement to utter out loud. Ever. Unless you're a mail-order bride whose original offer fell through.

Putting me on your "Favourites" list and then saying "If I put you on my favourites, then I would like to talk to you. Message me." is super-lame. Is actually just talking to someone not a viable option? Are you that nervous to make the first move? Look at mail-order guy over there - he's doing a great job at just putting it out there. You can do it.

What are these head games that girls are playing? So many guys state in their profiles that they're so tired of the head games. What constitutes a head game? Do I play? More importantly, do I win? Instead of head games, I wish everyone could just give it to me straight. We're all grown-ups here, so let's just say the truth. Originally, I thought guys would appreciate this - doesn't seem to be true. Now, I just delete without explaining that their spelling/litter of kids/unibrow is really a turn-off.

It's going to be a lovely day

There is nothing more lovely to start the day with than the sight of this on my desk:

My first Chanel - and no, something out of a garbage bag on Canal Street does not count. This is the real deal. I feel the same way I felt when I received my first Tiffany. I imagine I will feel the same way when I receive my first Jaguar and Lear jet.

I like how it's not emblazoned with the logo - I find that tacky - but instead is subtly elegant. You know, like me. :)

Wigged out

Ok, this Hallowe'en was the worst. The worst! Mostly in part to my disastrous costume, but also in part to the fact that we couldn't get in anywhere due to a lack of planning and despite having a limo (like we were 17 year old prom kids) we STILL ended up standing around in the cold. Brutal.

First, let me break it down for you. My costume. I was supposed to look like the real life version of Betty Rubble.
In my head, this looked amazing. I had a huge dress that I was going to cut and sew into a kicky little outfit. I had ribbon and foam that was going to turn into the necklace collar and I had the wig. That blasted wig.

So, not having any time during the week, I was left with a 2 hour window to put all this into action. Armed with a stapler and a glue gun, I set out to create a disastrous 'dress' that pulled apart everytime I moved. And for those of you who have seen me dance, you know I like to move! But I had no choice, so I just doubled up on the staples.

I ended up attaching the necklace with hot glue while it was on my neck. Never a good idea, especially with cocktails.

So, this was all pretty bad on its own. Then, I put on the wig.

Seriously, this shouldn't even be allowed to be sold as a wig. It's gotta be something else. A mop attachment? A massive hairball from the world's largest bathtub? This is what I thought I was getting:
Judging by the "girl" on the label, I shouldn't have been shocked. I still can't figure out what kind of creature "she" is. Yikes.

Somehow, in this picture, I am the one with the worst hair.
So, we decided to attack it with scissors and for the second time this year, I ended up looking like Ramona. Only this time, an whacked out, uneven, steel wool hair Ramona.

Needless to say, the night rapidly fell apart from there.

My friends had great costumes and although the twins were sidelined, they're all set for next year. Paul's was the best as he had a whole skit including props that was a hit. Somehow every year he finds a great costume that has him half-naked. Meh, give the people what they want.

Hallowe'ek

It is Hallowe'en once again. Every November 1st I vow that next year I will start early and come up with a creative and unique costume that will make fellow revelers nod their head in appreciation. However, once again, like every other year, it is October 26 and I am scrambling. I considered the Paper Bag Princess, but ruled it out because it wasn't very flattering, plus I wasn't sure everyone knew who that was. So, I decided upon another character - but I won't tell you what it is just yet.


I spent an hour and $20 at Value Village and found something that I will fashion into my costume. It requires cutting and sewing, but I will likely use a stapler instead.


I realized that the last 3 costumes I've worn have had me wearing a bun in my hair. And not one of them was Princess Leia! This year to shake things up, I've got a wig. It is ridiculously large. Right now it is sitting on a paint can in my basement as I try to tame it.


This is the first year that I will be able to hand out candy as a real life homeowner. However, since I am at the side of the house, I doubt anyone will come. Which suits me just fine. I'd much rather go see a movie and then stock up on 1/2 price candy the next day. I've been so busy I haven't even carved a pumpkin this year. But, I swear, just because I'm the miser on the street, if some punks egg my house, I will....man, I wish I could follow this up with an actual threat.


*later that week*

Ok, another clue, I have just returned from Michael's where I purchased a sheet of white foam paper for my costume.

Randomness

I've been up in Kitchener this week for a work project. Kitchener is really annoying. As a Hamiltonian, I am allowed to rag on Kitchener for it is lower than us on the city food chain. I can also slag on London (my least favourite southern Ontario city), Brantford and Windsor. But back to Kitchener - it sucks. The street layout, the lack of logic in Tim Hortons drive thru lanes, the pizza delivery system, the Home Depot signage. Sure, you may not find these things important, but it certainly was at 3am. After driving there twice, I still don't really know how to get there. I kept ending up in Woodstock or Milton - it's like my car didn't even want to go there.

However, the one thing that was good about my Kitchener stay was that we ate breakfast at Cora's (both days because there were no other options!).

Hamilton has a Cora's but I've never been. When I lived in Ottawa I went a couple times and I really love a place that dedicates itself to one thing. And breakfast is glorious. I would like to see a restaurant that dedicated itself to grilled cheese. Only grilled cheese, but every possible type. Call it WonderKraft.

Attention: Every Single Other Breakfast Place, follow Cora's lead and create a menu item that has ALL of the following:

- bacon or other meat

- French toast (Brioche if possible)

- fruit

- eggs

- toast

I always want all these elements but no one offers this. It was splendid. How hard is this? Call it the Winnie.

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How is is that I have been on 3 first dates at a Milestone's? Actually, at the same Milestone's. I didn't even realize this until halfway through my salad the other day, but something about me says, "Take me to Milestone's". Why are their menus so heavy and huge? I usually just order something on the first page because I can't be bothered to flip through.

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I obviously like my Tupperware, however, it wasn't until recently that I realized how much it can actually do. Get ready to have your mind blown.

Exhibit A: A is for Aw, bummer, that celery is so limp...

Exhibit B: B is for But wait! The Tupperware Lady told me that this new container will bring dead vegetables back to life...

Exhibit C: C is for crisp celery, ready to crunch!
Sure, I did end up throwing it out still, but it did work. I know a great Tupperware guy - Tupperman Dan - if anyone would like some for themselves.

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It is official, my domination of the southern Ontario real estate celebrity realm is gaining speed. I have now been in the Spec Homes section of the Spectator two Saturdays in a row. Luckily this week, they featured the picture with me wearing shoes. Soon I will surely have my own design column on how to come across in the media as a designer without having any training whatsoever.

I've been surprised how many people read the Homes section as I've had several people call me about the article. Ok, fine, so one of them was my friend's mom, but it still counts. Each week I creep a little closer to the front page.

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Smile Text of the Week:

Hey crackerpants! How are things?

Can't help but smile at the absurdity.

Well done, PT.

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Vote it, Just Vote it

Ontario voted. Did you?

I did. Later that day my mom came to the door and declared, "I don't care who you vote for, but get out and vote!!" After I told her I already had, she was pleased, but then once I told her who I voted for, the smile faded. I guess she does care who I vote for...

Over the past few weeks, the campaigning has been in full force. Somehow, I ended up with a candidate's sign on my lawn. I didn't put there and I don't even think my tenants are legal to vote. Another thing that baffles me is why candidates think it a viable campaign tactic to stand on street corners and wave at traffic. No, really, am I the only one who thinks this is stupid?

Look at me! I'm on the street! I'm one of you. Wave at me, honk at me, vote for me!!! Wavey, wavey, wavey, wavey. Weeeee!!!

I'm always embarrassed for them. I was also embarrassed for the councillor candidate in my ward who had spelling errors in her pamphlet. It was very amateur, but I'm sure she got a good mark on it for her social studies class.

I found it amusing that of the mayoral candidates the fourth place runner up was the guy who I (and everyone else) only knows as the "Pothead Guy". Awesome, Hamilton. Sure, he only had 2% or something, but that's still fourth.

That's what I thought!!