Ma biest friend
Why can't you be here always?
31.8.09
27.8.09
do yourself a 'flavour'
Allie and I were convinced that there was no such thing as a good yogurt commercial.
They all contain annoying jingles and dancing stomachs. All very offensive in their own way. Then we found this gem, and we wondered, why do they bother making new commercials at all? Every few years they should revert about 2 decades and replay. It would not only save money, but it would keep us in gales over how much the film/advertising industry has evolved.
I mean really...
This is an Australian commercial though so we've changed our minds and decided, there is no such thing as a good yogurt commercial in North America.
I present the challenge to you to find one.
Prove us wrong.
They all contain annoying jingles and dancing stomachs. All very offensive in their own way. Then we found this gem, and we wondered, why do they bother making new commercials at all? Every few years they should revert about 2 decades and replay. It would not only save money, but it would keep us in gales over how much the film/advertising industry has evolved.
I mean really...
This is an Australian commercial though so we've changed our minds and decided, there is no such thing as a good yogurt commercial in North America.
I present the challenge to you to find one.
Prove us wrong.
Now and Then
Sitting on a patio,
Drinking wine,
Smoking cigarettes,
The things grown ups do.
Eating seafood risotto expertly prepared by a boyfriend,
Reminiscing on summers past,
Parties had,
Former conquests.
We used to talk about boys,
And who said what,
Now we talk about careers,
Our futures,
And toss around wedding plans.
The pilates instructor/professional dancer,
Drinking wine,
Smoking cigarettes,
The things grown ups do.
Eating seafood risotto expertly prepared by a boyfriend,
Reminiscing on summers past,
Parties had,
Former conquests.
We used to talk about boys,
And who said what,
Now we talk about careers,
Our futures,
And toss around wedding plans.
The pilates instructor/professional dancer,
The aspiring Sommelier,
...And I...
Living vicariously through my friends.
We three grown ups,
'Young ladies' even,
Watching the water and the sun set,
Swatting mosquitoes,
Searching for phosphorescence.
We will be here all night.
Living vicariously through my friends.
We three grown ups,
'Young ladies' even,
Watching the water and the sun set,
Swatting mosquitoes,
Searching for phosphorescence.
We will be here all night.
24.8.09
to the tune of transformers
Sung by Tara Hare in reference to her clean hair masquarading as dirty:
"Grease monger, clean hair in disguise."
accessorizzzzzzzzze
If you did happen to find yourself with the condition mentioned in my last post, you may want to purchase a 'pillowig'.
23.8.09
throw some z's on that bitch
If one found themselves with a condition where in if they were subject to conversing about a task or activity that they deemed particularly boring, it actually put them to sleep, would this condition be an affliction, or a gift?
20.8.09
a hickey from kenickie is like a hallmark card
This last weekend was fun.
I actually got to use this phrase for the first time in my life.
I've waited oh so long.
I won't divulge to whom it was in reference to, as I wouldn't want to tarnish the ethereal reputation of (myself) or my cohorts.
I will say, though, that it was warranted.
I'm not going to bore you with the occurrences, but I definitely will not soon forget last Friday through Sunday (if ever).
I hope I also will not forget this coming weekend.
Or, in the same sentence, I hope I DO forget it for the same reasons.
Life is good.
Big up to Danny (if you read this).
because of the boys
I'm not huge on music videos but these are two of my all time faves.
My other fave I can't imbedd, but here instead is the link
Enjoy!
My other fave I can't imbedd, but here instead is the link
Enjoy!
dutch, baby
I’m not much of a chef. I’m a musician, a writer, and a decent snowboarder, but I definitely leave something to be desired in the kitchen. Others would disagree. Maybe I’m just setting the bar too high for myself. After all, I am comparing myself to people like, my mother, for example, who could whip up a three course meal using nothing but a bag of rice and bring the house down.
Due to the line of excellent cooks from which I was brought forth, people are shocked when I share the fact that I do not love slaving over a stove nor do I possess the talent of my kin (mother, grandmother, uncles, cousins and brother) who have all been blessed in this vicinity.
That being said, I did manage to pick up a trick or two (when I was allowed in the kitchen, my mother’s ‘sacred territory’). I could cook a mean omelet by the time I was 6 and I know the easiest way to peel a garlic clove is by crushing it first with a knife. These, to me, are common sense but to others are new knowledge and it is because of these tidbits that I do, from time to time, receive a phone call from a friend in need with a question from the kitchen. I either know the answer, or I simply have the resources (my mother) to find out.
What I am about to share with you is the only recipe I ever managed to retain. It’s my go to ‘impress the guest’ breakfast and I have only ever met one other person in my life who knew what it was. You can eat this delicious dish savory (by adding cheese), or sweet (with fruit salad) and it is served best (in my experience) with (real) maple syrup, none of the simulated stuff (sorry Aunt Jemima), or Yvonne’s red pepper (jalapeno) jelly (good luck finding any because I think it’s been years since my mother has cooked up a batch).
Hell! Who even says this is reserved for breakfast?
It’s great for brunch.
You could throw everyone for a loop and toss some ham in there…maybe even some vegetables. But before you get too crazy, just try it the simple way.
With syrup.
And a coffee.
A newspaper is a nice added touch as well.
Preferably on a Sunday morning.
I’m letting you in on my secret.
My world is coming to an end.
Dutch Baby
What you need:
Flour (preferably white…I’ve never used whole wheat…get creative though if you have the guts)
Milk (cow's. Again…never had it with a milk substitute…)
Eggs (chicken. Duck…or platypus could possibly work? Let me know.)
Butter
Ratios:
How many people are you cooking for?
You want about two eggs per person.
This is easy.
All you need is a quarter cup of milk and a quarter cup of flour per egg.
For example: if you’re cooking for 4 people, I’d recommend using 8 eggs therefore, you need 2 cups of flour and 2 cups of milk.
Also,\I'd recommend using only one frying pan per four eggs otherwise it could get messy.
Easy peasy.
What you do:
Preheat oven to 400. (Anna, this is like a pizza, you can’t fry it)
While the oven is getting hot, whisk (or blend) together the ingredients. Try and get as many of the lumps out as possible. It’s not the end of the world if there are some left over.
In a frying pan (size accordingly), melt a good amount of butter. Not enough so that your mixture will be floating in it, but more than enough to grease the pan. (A couple of table spoons should do the trick). My mum likes to do this in the oven itself so that the pan also gets hot and in turn makes for a crispier Dutch Baby, but the stove also works.
Remove the frying pan from heat and pour your batter in.
Once its optimum temperature has been reached, place your frying pan into the throws of the oven, close the door and wait. Resist the temptation to keep checking on your creation. This will only ensure that it needs more time in the inferno. If your oven light is working, and the window clean enough, turn it on and monitor it from outside.
It will take about 20 minutes (depending on the size) until your baby is fully cooked.
Check on it then. If it’s not ready, close the door and wait a few minutes.
You’ll be able to tell when it’s ready because it will look something like this:
You will realize this resembles, slightly, a large Yorkshire pudding.
(Maybe try it with gravy?)
It will deflate.
This is natural.
It doesn't mean you have failed.
It is not a souffle.
Now that you’ve had a plain Jane Dutch Baby, get creative.
You now can not only wow your friends (not that you couldn't before, you snake you) but, when asked, "What did you have for breakfast?" (interchangeable with brunch, lunch, dinner, or tea even, if you're in England), you can honestly reply "Why, a Dutch Baby of course."
Due to the line of excellent cooks from which I was brought forth, people are shocked when I share the fact that I do not love slaving over a stove nor do I possess the talent of my kin (mother, grandmother, uncles, cousins and brother) who have all been blessed in this vicinity.
That being said, I did manage to pick up a trick or two (when I was allowed in the kitchen, my mother’s ‘sacred territory’). I could cook a mean omelet by the time I was 6 and I know the easiest way to peel a garlic clove is by crushing it first with a knife. These, to me, are common sense but to others are new knowledge and it is because of these tidbits that I do, from time to time, receive a phone call from a friend in need with a question from the kitchen. I either know the answer, or I simply have the resources (my mother) to find out.
What I am about to share with you is the only recipe I ever managed to retain. It’s my go to ‘impress the guest’ breakfast and I have only ever met one other person in my life who knew what it was. You can eat this delicious dish savory (by adding cheese), or sweet (with fruit salad) and it is served best (in my experience) with (real) maple syrup, none of the simulated stuff (sorry Aunt Jemima), or Yvonne’s red pepper (jalapeno) jelly (good luck finding any because I think it’s been years since my mother has cooked up a batch).
Hell! Who even says this is reserved for breakfast?
It’s great for brunch.
You could throw everyone for a loop and toss some ham in there…maybe even some vegetables. But before you get too crazy, just try it the simple way.
With syrup.
And a coffee.
A newspaper is a nice added touch as well.
Preferably on a Sunday morning.
I’m letting you in on my secret.
My world is coming to an end.
Dutch Baby
What you need:
Flour (preferably white…I’ve never used whole wheat…get creative though if you have the guts)
Milk (cow's. Again…never had it with a milk substitute…)
Eggs (chicken. Duck…or platypus could possibly work? Let me know.)
Butter
Ratios:
How many people are you cooking for?
You want about two eggs per person.
This is easy.
All you need is a quarter cup of milk and a quarter cup of flour per egg.
For example: if you’re cooking for 4 people, I’d recommend using 8 eggs therefore, you need 2 cups of flour and 2 cups of milk.
Also,\I'd recommend using only one frying pan per four eggs otherwise it could get messy.
Easy peasy.
What you do:
Preheat oven to 400. (Anna, this is like a pizza, you can’t fry it)
While the oven is getting hot, whisk (or blend) together the ingredients. Try and get as many of the lumps out as possible. It’s not the end of the world if there are some left over.
In a frying pan (size accordingly), melt a good amount of butter. Not enough so that your mixture will be floating in it, but more than enough to grease the pan. (A couple of table spoons should do the trick). My mum likes to do this in the oven itself so that the pan also gets hot and in turn makes for a crispier Dutch Baby, but the stove also works.
Remove the frying pan from heat and pour your batter in.
Once its optimum temperature has been reached, place your frying pan into the throws of the oven, close the door and wait. Resist the temptation to keep checking on your creation. This will only ensure that it needs more time in the inferno. If your oven light is working, and the window clean enough, turn it on and monitor it from outside.
It will take about 20 minutes (depending on the size) until your baby is fully cooked.
Check on it then. If it’s not ready, close the door and wait a few minutes.
You’ll be able to tell when it’s ready because it will look something like this:
You will realize this resembles, slightly, a large Yorkshire pudding.
(Maybe try it with gravy?)
It will deflate.
This is natural.
It doesn't mean you have failed.
It is not a souffle.
Now that you’ve had a plain Jane Dutch Baby, get creative.
You now can not only wow your friends (not that you couldn't before, you snake you) but, when asked, "What did you have for breakfast?" (interchangeable with brunch, lunch, dinner, or tea even, if you're in England), you can honestly reply "Why, a Dutch Baby of course."
19.8.09
inch by inch
There’s a little deli just a few blocks from my work called “Finch’s Tea and Coffee House” that makes amazing sandwiches. Allie and I go there once every couple of weeks, usually getting the “full vegetarian” which comes with 1/2 avocado, cucumber, red onion, cheese, lettuce, tomato and dijon-mayo. I get mine on a baguette and Allie, opting for the less messy and more cost effective version, goes for toasted multi-grain bread. It’s healthy, delicious and did I mention amazing? Lunch time at Finch’s is definitely their busiest hour and it has proven more efficient to pre-order these delicacies than to arrive, wait in line, then order and pay, and then wait again for your lunch to be made, sometimes waiting for up to ½ hour. These are the REAL sandwich artists (take that Subway!).
Last week, Allie and I both forgetting our lunches on the kitchen counter, we ordered our meals from Finch’s. We went and picked up the perfectly wrapped and expertly made sandwiches. We brought them back to the office, huddled around my desk and gingerly untied the twine used to tie the brown paper wrapper shut, to expose our food. We ate our lunches in silence (there are rituals one must follow when eating a finch’s sandwich), me getting avocado on my new shirt due to my messier choice. I finished up, and carefully folded the paper, and placed it under my keyboard. I then watched Allie take her last bite and go to do the same as I, and neatly fold the package, when her face turned white. There, on the brown paper, crawling around (or measuring, if you will), was a green/grey inch worm. I could practically see her stomach lurch.
Amber, the most assertive of us three, called Finch’s and complained, earning Allie a free sandwich (if she so desires to eat there again…which I’m sure she will), and then we went to exchange other horror stories of bugs or animals found in our own food.
And this, is where I came up with the theme for my next play list. Animals. This is probably the most eclectic yet of my playlists.
What have I learned? Look in the wrapper first, and The Beatles had a lot of songs about animals.
P.S.
Dear Finch’s, I still love you and will continue to eat your sandwiches, but please, wash your lettuce better.
Love, Mikhaila
Animals
The Chemical Brothers - The Salmon Dance
George Clinton - Atomic Dog
Was (Not Was) - Walk The Dinosaur
Henry Mancini - Baby Elephant Walk (performed by ?)
The B-52's- Rock Lobster
Rick Dees & His Cast of Idiots – Disco Duck
Theme Song – Felix the Cat
Aristocats (Disney) - Ev'rybody Wants To Be A Cat
The Beatles - Rocky Racoon
The Mills Brothers - Yellow Bird
Patti Page - (How Much Is That) Doggie in the Window
Michael Jackson - Ben
Kate & Anna McGarrigle - Kitty Come Home
The Beatles-Blackbird
Cat Stevens - I Love My Dog
Loundon Wainwright III – Dead Skunk in the Middle of the Road
Sonny James – The Cat Came Back
Blind Willie McTeel - Boll Weevil
Peter Paul & Mary - Puff the Magic Dragon
Rolf Harris- Tie Me Kangaroo Down, Sport
Simon & Garfunkle – At the Zoo
Presidents of the United States of America - Kitty
Nokolai Rimsky-Korsakov – Flight of the Bumblebee (Performed by Itzhak Perlman)
The Who - Boris The Spider
Stevie Ray Vaughan - Mary Had A Little Lamb
Spin Doctors - Cleopatra's Cat
The Beatles - Octopus' Garden
The Presidents Of The United States Of America - Boll Weevil
The Rolling Stones - Little Red Rooster
Stray Cats - Stray Cat Strut
The Beatles- Piggies
Smokey Robinson & the Miracles – Mickey’s Monkey
Brook Benton - The Boll Weevil Song
Lady and the Tramp (Disney) - The Siamese Cat Song
John Coltrane Quartet - The Inch Worm
Bill Pursell - Alley Cat
Paul McCartney - Bluebird
Weezer - Butterfly
17.8.09
was that your limb? - w4m
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Date: 2009-06-25, 2:18AM EDT
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I was running to catch the 9 train, early in the morning tuesday. Apparently I wasn't the only one: I saw you down the subway stop ahead of me. You were sprinting, and collided with a support column. Your prosthetic arm flew off, and you kept running.
You made the train, and I did not. All that was left was your lovely arm, glistening from the summer humidity. It smelled of pine and saddleneck oil.
I have it now, in my living room. It's sitting in a hallway basket, with some umbrellas and a digeridoo. Contact me: I'd like to meet the rest of you.
-Susan
Date: 2009-06-25, 2:18AM EDT
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I was running to catch the 9 train, early in the morning tuesday. Apparently I wasn't the only one: I saw you down the subway stop ahead of me. You were sprinting, and collided with a support column. Your prosthetic arm flew off, and you kept running.
You made the train, and I did not. All that was left was your lovely arm, glistening from the summer humidity. It smelled of pine and saddleneck oil.
I have it now, in my living room. It's sitting in a hallway basket, with some umbrellas and a digeridoo. Contact me: I'd like to meet the rest of you.
-Susan
15.8.09
everyone hates me!
On Thursday night, I witnessed Teen Angst at it's finest and I was instantly brought back to my youth hood. Not that I was a particularly angsty teen, but I am still occasionally haunted by the idea that everyone (my mother in particular) is out to get me.
Just a couple of weeks ago, for instance, I had an episode via email.
My mum, having spent the weekend at my apartment, sent me an electronic letter stating her willingness to
a). rent me a carpet cleaner and bring the car into town to transport it for me
and
b). also help me take my empties (of which there always seem to be copious amounts) back to the liquor store.
She was offering me her services because
a). she's heard me complain about the state of our carpet many a time and also because she knows that with a little time and effort, our (mine and Julie's) apartment could be really cute (she didn't offer to paint over the brown sponge paint and kokopellis that some asshole decided to put on the bathroom wall)
and
b). because she knows how hard it can be to take care of your empties (when you drink as much beer as we do) if you don't have a car.
I wrote her back a scathing response telling her
a). I didn't ask for her opinion (are you trying to tell me my apartment is a mess (even though it is)? I don't give you my opinion on your house...etc etc)
and
b). maybe next time her and dad needed a place to stay in the city, they should stay at Quinn's (my dad can't even stand up straight in my brother's apartment the ceiling is so low, but I'm sure they'd be much more comfortable on his two piece futon in his brand new apartment with clean carpets).
My email was followed by a tearful message left on my voicemail and also an apologetic email, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel as though you were being judged. I don't think we did get to thank you for giving us a place to stay. We really appreciated it. We would not have been able to go to the Folk Fest without it...blah blah blah...I just get the feeling that you're not that happy in your apartment and with some help it could be a really nice place...blah blah blah...".
I didn't respond.
We're talking again but it hasn't been brought up.
Thursday, August 13, Seymour bus stop.
Enter Me. Fresh out of the movie theatre. Still shocked a little bit by the outside world.
Enter Mother and Daughter duo.
Argument is apparent from a block away.
Daughter walks, fists clenched, a few steps ahead of mother. Just close enough that she can shoot the odd snide remark. Just far enough to make it obvious that she 'HATES' her mother.
Daughter is wearing shorts over ripped nylons and a t-shirt with some kind of statement on it either anti-establishment (fuck the man!) or something useless (my dog eats cheese.). Her hair is long and stringy, clipped back off her face with black hair clips, heavy eyeliner is rimmed around her eyes and chipped black or navy blue (it's hard to tell in the dark) nail polish is on her fingers (black nail polish is some how supposed to symbolize your "rebellious nature". Especially if it is chipped. This started back before it appeared on the nails of fahionista, Lindsay Lohan, probably while she was being arrested for reckless driving somewhere in the state of California, and the fashion world was turned upside down. I'm still waiting for Nicole Richie to step out of her house wearing black lipstick. Wouldn't that throw us all for a loop.). She is also wearing a backpack covered with pins of different kinds (the backpack always gives it away).
Mother is quite beautiful. She has long silver hair with a little bit of a hippie vibe to her clothes. I doubt daughter realises that, if genes have their way (and she's not adopted), she will age quite gracefully.
As they approach, I can hear their quarrel:
Daughter: Why couldn't you just listen to me this once? I know where the fucking bus stop is! I live down town. we just had to walk like 8 blocks for no reason!
Daughter sits down on the (probably urine covered) sidewalk next to where I'm standing and throws her head in her hands.
Mother: You can be so mellow dramatic sometimes!
Daughter: Why can't you just stay the fuck out of my life and let me do what I want? It's my body!
Mother: I have the choice to make you wait until you're 16.
Daughter: I don't want to wait until then! I want to do it now! There are three weeks left in the summer! I want to have something to do with my time! I'm so bored!
Mother: Having a piece of metal put into your face is hardly something to do with your time!
Daughter: You just don't want me to do it because you think it's disgusting!
Mother: I don't think it's disgusting, I just think it's useless and you'll regret it when you're older!
Daughter: It's beautiful. Why can't you see that? It's art!
Mother: laughs
Daughter: Why can't you just let me do what I want?
Mother: You only have a few months until your birthday. Just wait. You can wait.
Daughter: No I can't!!!
Mother: Well, we'll see. First semester if you do well on your report card, then maybe you can do it then.
Daughter: I always do well!
Mother: No you don't! You don't apply yourself.
Daughter: You think I'm an idiot. You think I'm fucking stupid!
Mother: I do not! I just know you could do better if you tried.
Daughter: I'm already doing University level English!
Mother: You are not.
Daughter: Yes I am! See, you don't even pay attention to me! You don't even care. You think I'm a retard.
Mother: Sighs.
Daughter: If you don't let me do it now, as soon as I turn sixteen, I'm going to get my nose, lip, and my cheeks pierced just to spite you!
I can practically hear Mother rolling her eyes.
Daughter: You're such a fucking bitch. I hate you. I don't ever want to speak to you again!
Enter bus (20 Victoria).
Mother and Daughter aren't speaking to each other as I leave the sidewalk.
Just a couple of weeks ago, for instance, I had an episode via email.
My mum, having spent the weekend at my apartment, sent me an electronic letter stating her willingness to
a). rent me a carpet cleaner and bring the car into town to transport it for me
and
b). also help me take my empties (of which there always seem to be copious amounts) back to the liquor store.
She was offering me her services because
a). she's heard me complain about the state of our carpet many a time and also because she knows that with a little time and effort, our (mine and Julie's) apartment could be really cute (she didn't offer to paint over the brown sponge paint and kokopellis that some asshole decided to put on the bathroom wall)
and
b). because she knows how hard it can be to take care of your empties (when you drink as much beer as we do) if you don't have a car.
I wrote her back a scathing response telling her
a). I didn't ask for her opinion (are you trying to tell me my apartment is a mess (even though it is)? I don't give you my opinion on your house...etc etc)
and
b). maybe next time her and dad needed a place to stay in the city, they should stay at Quinn's (my dad can't even stand up straight in my brother's apartment the ceiling is so low, but I'm sure they'd be much more comfortable on his two piece futon in his brand new apartment with clean carpets).
My email was followed by a tearful message left on my voicemail and also an apologetic email, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel as though you were being judged. I don't think we did get to thank you for giving us a place to stay. We really appreciated it. We would not have been able to go to the Folk Fest without it...blah blah blah...I just get the feeling that you're not that happy in your apartment and with some help it could be a really nice place...blah blah blah...".
I didn't respond.
We're talking again but it hasn't been brought up.
Thursday, August 13, Seymour bus stop.Enter Me. Fresh out of the movie theatre. Still shocked a little bit by the outside world.
Enter Mother and Daughter duo.
Argument is apparent from a block away.
Daughter walks, fists clenched, a few steps ahead of mother. Just close enough that she can shoot the odd snide remark. Just far enough to make it obvious that she 'HATES' her mother.
Daughter is wearing shorts over ripped nylons and a t-shirt with some kind of statement on it either anti-establishment (fuck the man!) or something useless (my dog eats cheese.). Her hair is long and stringy, clipped back off her face with black hair clips, heavy eyeliner is rimmed around her eyes and chipped black or navy blue (it's hard to tell in the dark) nail polish is on her fingers (black nail polish is some how supposed to symbolize your "rebellious nature". Especially if it is chipped. This started back before it appeared on the nails of fahionista, Lindsay Lohan, probably while she was being arrested for reckless driving somewhere in the state of California, and the fashion world was turned upside down. I'm still waiting for Nicole Richie to step out of her house wearing black lipstick. Wouldn't that throw us all for a loop.). She is also wearing a backpack covered with pins of different kinds (the backpack always gives it away).
Mother is quite beautiful. She has long silver hair with a little bit of a hippie vibe to her clothes. I doubt daughter realises that, if genes have their way (and she's not adopted), she will age quite gracefully.
As they approach, I can hear their quarrel:
Daughter: Why couldn't you just listen to me this once? I know where the fucking bus stop is! I live down town. we just had to walk like 8 blocks for no reason!
Daughter sits down on the (probably urine covered) sidewalk next to where I'm standing and throws her head in her hands.
Mother: You can be so mellow dramatic sometimes!
Daughter: Why can't you just stay the fuck out of my life and let me do what I want? It's my body!
Mother: I have the choice to make you wait until you're 16.
Daughter: I don't want to wait until then! I want to do it now! There are three weeks left in the summer! I want to have something to do with my time! I'm so bored!
Mother: Having a piece of metal put into your face is hardly something to do with your time!
Daughter: You just don't want me to do it because you think it's disgusting!
Mother: I don't think it's disgusting, I just think it's useless and you'll regret it when you're older!
Daughter: It's beautiful. Why can't you see that? It's art!
Mother: laughs
Daughter: Why can't you just let me do what I want?
Mother: You only have a few months until your birthday. Just wait. You can wait.
Daughter: No I can't!!!
Mother: Well, we'll see. First semester if you do well on your report card, then maybe you can do it then.
Daughter: I always do well!
Mother: No you don't! You don't apply yourself.
Daughter: You think I'm an idiot. You think I'm fucking stupid!
Mother: I do not! I just know you could do better if you tried.
Daughter: I'm already doing University level English!
Mother: You are not.
Daughter: Yes I am! See, you don't even pay attention to me! You don't even care. You think I'm a retard.
Mother: Sighs.
Daughter: If you don't let me do it now, as soon as I turn sixteen, I'm going to get my nose, lip, and my cheeks pierced just to spite you!
I can practically hear Mother rolling her eyes.
Daughter: You're such a fucking bitch. I hate you. I don't ever want to speak to you again!
Enter bus (20 Victoria).
Mother and Daughter aren't speaking to each other as I leave the sidewalk.
13.8.09
the things that homeless people sell.
This morning on the way to work, I saw a homeless man selling a (less) homeless woman a piece of tule that was about 9' x 3'.
I wonder what she'll do with it?
It never ceases to amaze me, the things that homeless people sell. Or buy for that matter.
I wonder what she'll do with it?
It never ceases to amaze me, the things that homeless people sell. Or buy for that matter.
hangover days
I had zero intention or desire to get drunk last night but here I am, hungover as ever on a Thursday.
12.8.09
15 grams
My eating two and a half pieces of pizza for lunch was not conducive to my wish to lose 20 lbs.
But maybe if my pizza had Yoda on it, I could have used the force to magic away my excess weight.
ancestry
This is the Herstmonceux Castle in East Sussex, England. It was owned and lived in by my ancestors. My mum's last name, Mounsey, is a variation on Monceux. The Castle is now an international study centre for Queens University (Kingston, Ontario). There also appears to be a B & B and apparently (whether at the castle or not, I am unaware) there is a museum with my forefather's paraphernalia. I'm sure it would be shields and swords and such. Items that would have our families crest on it (whatever that is). Tables and chairs. Chamber pots. Boring articles that contain my DNA. No big deal.
Susanna (Strickland) Moodie and Catharine Parr (Strickland) Traill (Catharine or Catherine??),if you haven't heard of them, are two of Canada's most important 19th century writers. Susanna Moodie was a pioneer writer and wrote mostly about living in the bush in Ontario in the mid 1800's and Catherine Parr Traill wrote mostly about nature. Both were also painters. They were my Grandma (Strickland)'s (on my dad's side) third cousins fifteen times removed. Or something. That's just an approximation. The two eldest Strickland sisters, Eliza and Agnes also became famous writers as historians of British royalty and nobility. Before immigrating to Canada, Susanna and Catharine had both also established themselves as children's writers and poets.
This is Catherine Parr. She was the sixth and last wife of King Henry the VIII. She outlived the tyrannous King and apparently, my bloodline can be traced back to her, which is why Catharine Parr Traill was named as such.So basically my family history is littered with nobility, royalty and upper class. On both sides.
I'm kind of a big deal.
SO BOW DOWN!
calme luxe et volupte
This is my favourite painting of all time. It's by Henri Matisse. I fell in love with it in Paris.
9.8.09
growing old on galiano pt. 2
Friday night at dinner:
Mum: "Mum, you've got beet juice running down your chin. You don't want to get it on your lovely shirt."
Granny: "Oh dear."
(wipes chin)
Grandad: "I guess I need to file that tooth down again eh kid?"
Granny: "Yeah maybe."
Mum: "What are you talking about dad?"
Grandad: "She broke a filling a couple months ago and it came out. Her tooth was sharp after and so I filed it down with a nail file."
Me: "What? Go to the dentist!"
Grandad: "What dentist?"
Mum: "What kind of file did you use?"
Grandad: "A nail file! I offered to glue the filling back in with two ton cement but she wouldn't agree to it."
Mum: "Dad!"
Grandad: "What? you have to be versatile when you live in the boonies!"
Me: "Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha..."
Mum: "Mum, you've got beet juice running down your chin. You don't want to get it on your lovely shirt."
Granny: "Oh dear."
(wipes chin)
Grandad: "I guess I need to file that tooth down again eh kid?"
Granny: "Yeah maybe."
Mum: "What are you talking about dad?"
Grandad: "She broke a filling a couple months ago and it came out. Her tooth was sharp after and so I filed it down with a nail file."
Me: "What? Go to the dentist!"
Grandad: "What dentist?"
Mum: "What kind of file did you use?"
Grandad: "A nail file! I offered to glue the filling back in with two ton cement but she wouldn't agree to it."
Mum: "Dad!"
Grandad: "What? you have to be versatile when you live in the boonies!"
Me: "Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha..."
7.8.09
growing old on galiano pt. 1
Friday morning morning at breakfast:
Granny: "Ken, we need to figure out where we're going for dinner Saturday night."
Grandad: "Where we're going for dinner?"
Granny: "We're having dinner with someone but I've forgotten who."
Mum: "What do you mean?"
Me: "They're so popular and have so many dinner plans that they get them confused and forget who they're having dinner with and when. Am I right Granny?"
Laughter
Grandad: "Last week we showed up for dinner at Anne's and we were a day early."
Me: "You need to get a calendar."
Granny: "No way. What for?"
Mum: "Why is it that you have such an aversion to calendars? You can get such beautiful calendars!"
Grandad: "I know. We throw them out all the time."
Mum: "You mean people buy you calendars for gifts and you just throw them out?"
Grandad: "Well no. Not exactly. These ones are free..."
Mum: "Well that's not the same thing. You can get beautiful calendars and it's like having art hanging on your wall..."
Grandad: "And where would we hang it?"
Mum points to a blank spot on the wall.
Granny: "I think it's the Yorks. I think we're having dinner with the Yorks."
Grandad: "But we should be having them here for dinner."
Granny: "Maybe we are?"
Grandad: "If it isn't raining, lets invite them over for a Bocce game and then hopefully they'll say 'we'll see you tomorrow night for dinner.'"
Granny: "Yes it must be the Yorks because last week she said "We need to have dinner with the Smiths. And you and Ken as well.' I remember that."
Grandad: "Well then we're not having dinner here because we don't want to have the Smiths over. If anyone is having anyone over for dinner it's them. It's definitely the Smith's turn to have us over for dinner."
Mum: "But I thought you said that you wouldn't want to go to the Smith's for dinner...?"
Grandad: "We wouldn't but it's their turn to have us. They showed up at Sylvia's 80th birthday party and called before hand saying 'is it alright if we bring five extra people?'. It's their turn. It's the principle of the thing Yvonne."
Mum: "Dad, how's your ankle?"
Me: "Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha."
Granny: "Ken, we need to figure out where we're going for dinner Saturday night."
Grandad: "Where we're going for dinner?"
Granny: "We're having dinner with someone but I've forgotten who."
Mum: "What do you mean?"
Me: "They're so popular and have so many dinner plans that they get them confused and forget who they're having dinner with and when. Am I right Granny?"
Laughter
Grandad: "Last week we showed up for dinner at Anne's and we were a day early."
Me: "You need to get a calendar."
Granny: "No way. What for?"
Mum: "Why is it that you have such an aversion to calendars? You can get such beautiful calendars!"
Grandad: "I know. We throw them out all the time."
Mum: "You mean people buy you calendars for gifts and you just throw them out?"
Grandad: "Well no. Not exactly. These ones are free..."
Mum: "Well that's not the same thing. You can get beautiful calendars and it's like having art hanging on your wall..."
Grandad: "And where would we hang it?"
Mum points to a blank spot on the wall.
Granny: "I think it's the Yorks. I think we're having dinner with the Yorks."
Grandad: "But we should be having them here for dinner."
Granny: "Maybe we are?"
Grandad: "If it isn't raining, lets invite them over for a Bocce game and then hopefully they'll say 'we'll see you tomorrow night for dinner.'"
Granny: "Yes it must be the Yorks because last week she said "We need to have dinner with the Smiths. And you and Ken as well.' I remember that."
Grandad: "Well then we're not having dinner here because we don't want to have the Smiths over. If anyone is having anyone over for dinner it's them. It's definitely the Smith's turn to have us over for dinner."
Mum: "But I thought you said that you wouldn't want to go to the Smith's for dinner...?"
Grandad: "We wouldn't but it's their turn to have us. They showed up at Sylvia's 80th birthday party and called before hand saying 'is it alright if we bring five extra people?'. It's their turn. It's the principle of the thing Yvonne."
Mum: "Dad, how's your ankle?"
Me: "Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha."
6.8.09
cabin fever
I'm on Galiano and I've just read my Nylon magazine from cover to cover.
What now?
I am glad to learn that overalls are in for fall.
I've been waiting for a long time.
wasp sting chronicles
On Monday I got stung by a wasp. The last time I got stung by a wasp was 12 years ago, and I got frost bite.
Maybe that needs a little explaining.
I didn't get frost bite FROM the wasp sting per say. Although, that would be pretty amazing. A wasp that gave you frost bite.
It wasn't that cool though.
I got stung three or four times by the same wasp, in the same spot. It swelled, and I was given an ice pack which, in turn, froze my arm.
Apparently I was hysterical.
About the sting. Not the frost bite.
I don't doubt that's true.
I was terrified by wasps when I was a kid.
And fair enough.
I've been stung more times than the average person.
(1). Age 5 (?). while having a tea party with my friend Sarah in our front yard. The honey got swarmed. I got stung. I thought it was pretty cool. My cousins were coming two days later and I wanted to show it off. It, of course, had disappeared by the time they showed up.
(2). Age 6(?). with the same friend but this time in her front yard. Playing on the slip 'n' slide (Remember those? Unending summer entertainment.). Stepped on a bee while running through the clover for what (I'm sure) would have been en epic slide which was trumped by the stinger in my foot.
(3). Age 7 (?). While asleep in our new house. The ceiling was unfinished and there had been a yellow jacket up where the ceiling tiles ended (right above my head). It must have been asleep or just completely dazed because it fell from the ceiling, hit me in the face, I rolled on it and it stung me on the neck. It was awesome.
(4). Age 9. Grade four camping trip. Running around at Catherine Lake, a wasp flew down my black sparkley bathing suit and stung me on the butt. I was in French immersion at the time and one of our French teachers, who used to sing a song that went something along the lines of "OPEN THE CAN OF BEEEEAAAANNNSS OH YEAH OPEN THE CAN OF BEEEEEEEEAAANNNNS OH YEAH. AND A TIP AND A TOP AND A TIP OF KETCHUP. AND A TIP AND A TOP AND A TIP OF KETCHUP. OUVRE LES FEVES AU LARD OOOOOOOOH YEAH. OUVRE LES FEVES AU LARD OOOOOOOOH YEAH. ET UN TIP ET UN TOP EH UN TIP AU KETCHUP. ET UN TIP EH UN TOP EH UN TIP AU KETCHUP...", had to strip me down and apply bug bite cream to my ass. Luckily my mum was there. Otherwise it could have been questionable.
(5) & (6). Age 9 (again). Camping (again). This time in the interior with my parents at a beach called Rag Beach. My brother and I were searching for my parents and happened to walk through a wasps nest. I got stung on the face and leg. Quinn got stung somewhere. My mum got stung on the leg after hearing us scream and running to find us. My cheek swelled up to the size of a baseball. It was so cool.
(7). Age 12. The frost bite incident.
(8). Age 24. Walking out my front door. Wasp hit my wrist. Guessing it got stuck in my bangles. Freaked out. Stung my wrist. I missed my bus. And my ferry. Fuck fashion.
(my brother once, at the age of two, was running on the beach naked and got stung on his penis. I was not unlucky enough to have this happen. Partly because I don't have a penis, but also because I've never been one to run around naked.)
Back to the frost bite though.
It's the weirdest sensation to realise that a piece of your arm is actually frozen.
I showed my teacher. His face went white. He told me to take the ice pack off. Part of me wanted to leave it on and see what would happen. I didn't.
Nobody else believed me. I had my best friend's nanna (reluctantly) take me to the doctor after the day was over. I ended up with a rookie doctor who said it was just an allergic reaction and a big "I told you so" from nanna. My mum also took me to the doctor the next day (MY doctor) who said "I don't know who you saw before, but this is CLEARLY first degree frost bite.".
I had a bandage on my arm for a week. If you look close enough, my arm is still slightly purple.
Nothing cool happened this time around. No frost bite. No swollen cheek. My arm did swell up quite a bit and it is still sore. It's amazing how much damage such a little insect can do to you.
As a kid, whenever I got stung, I waited for an allergic reaction to kick in. I always expected that I was going to be hauled off in an ambulance, die, and then have my wake in my best friend's living room like Macaulay Culkin in My Girl. That, of course, never happened. I am, obviously, still alive and have not yet had a severe allergic reaction to a wasp or bee sting.
Although, every time I do get stung, it gets a little worse and that is a little concerning. This time around, my arm was swollen for two days and sore for three. It's still a little itchy.
It's something I guess I should probably keep an eye on. I should probably (according to my mother) buy some benadryl.
Maybe even an epi pen?
Although, to be honest, I'd almost rather die of a bee sting than stab myself in the leg.
2.8.09
hot soup on a hot day
Friday was the kick off to my ten day holiday and what a kick off it was.
I'm house sitting for Tuba Tara right now and other than the fact that her sister's cats peed on the couch, it seems to be going alright although I need to be there in about twenty minutes to hand over the keys to the next guard. No matter.
Friday after working quite late I went to a little barbecue at third beach with some friends. It was kind of spur of the moment and I showed up unprepared, ending up swimming in my clothes and eating other's food and drinking their beer. It's all good though. I'll hit them back when the occasion arises. After that, I ended up going to a house party near main street with a couple friends. I was a little nervous arriving, as I usually am when entering an unknown social situation, but after entry, I realised that I knew about half the people there, my anxiety subsided, and I had a great night after which, the three of us crashed at mine (Tara's). Then yesterday, we all went for a great little $3 breaky on the drive before we all went out separate directions.
My direction in particular was to work for a bit and then the sky train station, where I met up with some friends and headed out to Deer Lake Park for the Vancouver branch of the Rock the Bells tour. It was great. (Comp ticket provided by my friend Tim). We arrived just in time to see my personal fave Chali 2Na who rocked the house (or park). Slum Village was decent and I didn't really watch slaughterhouse. Common was good but I felt it was the same show I saw last summer. Rza sucked and he sucked hard. I wasn't that disappointed though because it wasn't that different from when I saw him last summer. The surprise guest was B-real from Cypress Hill which was pretty cool. Talib Kwelli showed up late, instilling the fear that he was not going to show. Eventually he did though, three acts late and then only playing for a disappointing fifteen minutes! The highlight for me was definitely Tech N9ne who killed it! He and fellow rapper Krizz Kaliko delivered a high energy, non-stop performance that left everyone in awe. The song of the day was definitely "I'm a playa" in which "I'm a playa I'm a playa, I'm a playa..." is sung to the tune of the German 80's pop song "Amadeus" by Falco. Brilliant. I'm not one for listening to too much tech n9ne but I would go see him again in an instant. Not surprisingly, Nas and Damian closed the night off with a bang. The children of two musical legends (Olu Dara and Bob Marley) who are two completely different artists from their fathers and making a musical mark in their own way. It was pretty amazing to be able to see the two of them on stage together and I look forward to the release of their collab album 'Distant Relatives'.
This evening or tomorrow morning I'm going to head to the coast with Tara's brother Dill. He recently spent a little time on the island hanging out with hippies and decided that's the life he wants to lead, and so he came back to the city and promptly quit his job. I told him that if he wants to be a hippy, Roberts Creek is the place to do it, and so he's going to join me there for a couple of days, after which, I'm planning on going somewhere with my mum. Either Galiano or up the coast a little ways. I've left it up to her to decide.
Now I've got to go and pay attention to some cats and hand over some keys.
It's pretty hot out (not as hot as last week thank goodness) and I just ate a bowl of piping hot udon. Typical.
Here's to ten days of no commitments!
I'm house sitting for Tuba Tara right now and other than the fact that her sister's cats peed on the couch, it seems to be going alright although I need to be there in about twenty minutes to hand over the keys to the next guard. No matter.
Friday after working quite late I went to a little barbecue at third beach with some friends. It was kind of spur of the moment and I showed up unprepared, ending up swimming in my clothes and eating other's food and drinking their beer. It's all good though. I'll hit them back when the occasion arises. After that, I ended up going to a house party near main street with a couple friends. I was a little nervous arriving, as I usually am when entering an unknown social situation, but after entry, I realised that I knew about half the people there, my anxiety subsided, and I had a great night after which, the three of us crashed at mine (Tara's). Then yesterday, we all went for a great little $3 breaky on the drive before we all went out separate directions.
My direction in particular was to work for a bit and then the sky train station, where I met up with some friends and headed out to Deer Lake Park for the Vancouver branch of the Rock the Bells tour. It was great. (Comp ticket provided by my friend Tim). We arrived just in time to see my personal fave Chali 2Na who rocked the house (or park). Slum Village was decent and I didn't really watch slaughterhouse. Common was good but I felt it was the same show I saw last summer. Rza sucked and he sucked hard. I wasn't that disappointed though because it wasn't that different from when I saw him last summer. The surprise guest was B-real from Cypress Hill which was pretty cool. Talib Kwelli showed up late, instilling the fear that he was not going to show. Eventually he did though, three acts late and then only playing for a disappointing fifteen minutes! The highlight for me was definitely Tech N9ne who killed it! He and fellow rapper Krizz Kaliko delivered a high energy, non-stop performance that left everyone in awe. The song of the day was definitely "I'm a playa" in which "I'm a playa I'm a playa, I'm a playa..." is sung to the tune of the German 80's pop song "Amadeus" by Falco. Brilliant. I'm not one for listening to too much tech n9ne but I would go see him again in an instant. Not surprisingly, Nas and Damian closed the night off with a bang. The children of two musical legends (Olu Dara and Bob Marley) who are two completely different artists from their fathers and making a musical mark in their own way. It was pretty amazing to be able to see the two of them on stage together and I look forward to the release of their collab album 'Distant Relatives'.
This evening or tomorrow morning I'm going to head to the coast with Tara's brother Dill. He recently spent a little time on the island hanging out with hippies and decided that's the life he wants to lead, and so he came back to the city and promptly quit his job. I told him that if he wants to be a hippy, Roberts Creek is the place to do it, and so he's going to join me there for a couple of days, after which, I'm planning on going somewhere with my mum. Either Galiano or up the coast a little ways. I've left it up to her to decide.
Now I've got to go and pay attention to some cats and hand over some keys.
It's pretty hot out (not as hot as last week thank goodness) and I just ate a bowl of piping hot udon. Typical.
Here's to ten days of no commitments!
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