It's easier on the eye than the red blob in the middle I suppose, but I still really miss my red smokes.
The End of an Era.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
I am Blue because My Smokes are too
It's officially happened - my smokes now come in an all-blue pack.
It's easier on the eye than the red blob in the middle I suppose, but I still really miss my red smokes.
The End of an Era.
Farewell, Old Friend.
It's easier on the eye than the red blob in the middle I suppose, but I still really miss my red smokes.
The End of an Era.
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Dogs Aren't People
I hold a longstanding disdain towards people who bring their dogs to public places.
I don't mean parks or other outdoor spaces, but stores and restaurants and things.
It's always bothered me.
It could be because the dogs that get taken into places tend to be the exact sorts of dogs I don't like; little, rat-like creatures that shiver too much even though they are dressed in ridiculous little fake Louis Vuitton sweaters that their idiot owners bought them at the flea market. I think that if I was a large dog I would feel discriminated against because of my size. No one takes big dogs to stores.
I don't see why anyone would ever need to take their dog, say, shopping for eyeglasses. They cannot give you an honest opinion or advice towards your purchase. And they don't facilitate your shopping trip - they cannot hold doors for you, hold your purse while you try things on or help you carry your packages to the car. So why the hell would you take a dog shopping? It's asinine.
So, imagine my anger when I boarded a plane last Sunday morning and found out there was a dog on board.
What the fuck?
Okay, I get that some misguided souls live under illusions that their pets are like their children, no different than any other person but they really cannot be. You don't give birth to a dog. Sure, there is some training involved that may compare to a newborn baby, but that's about as far as that argument can go.
Oh sure, you may spend as much on a dog as someone else does a child, perhaps even more - your children's medical expenses are covered by the government and your pet's aren't. You know why? Because pets aren't citizens. You know why? Because they're not fucking people.
Okay I'm rambling, but here's what happened:
I was travelling with 6 other people. We had pre-booked our seats to ensure that we all sat together. So, airplane - 3 seats per row, we had 7 seats - 2 rows and the aisle seat in the next row. My stepmother took that seat. As she goes to sit down, there is already a man in her seat. She tells him she's about to sit there, and he tells her he and his wife are travelling with a dog and he hopes that's not a problem. What really can she say? She's not impressed but she's also a much easiergoing person than myself, so she grins and bears it. It's an hour and a half flight.
The stewardess comes around and tells my stepmother that once we are in the air she will move her to another seat. My stepmother tells her that she is okay where she is; she wants to sit with the rest of us.
The stewardess tells her that the dog has to remain under the seat at all times, and so if my stepmother moves to another seat, these fine folks who have graced the plane's presence with their overgrown rodent can each have some leg room.
Oh, well, of course then! We must ensure that the people who have a complete disregard for the comfort of everyone else on the plane have ample legroom! Never mind that my stepmother paid a full adult fare for her ticket (as well as for three other people) and the dog owners paid a $50 surcharge to live in a fucking fantasy land that says dogs are just as important as people. Anyway, had it been me I would've caused a scene, but my stepmother just moved to another seat.
Okay, so they cannot serve peanuts on a plane anymore and we are encouraged not to wear perfume for our fellow passengers who may be allergic. I have no problem with this. But what about those people who are allergic to dogs?
Or why were the dog owners shown more courtesy than someone who didn't bring a mangy mutt aboard. Why couldn't the dog's owners been forced to move their seat if the legroom was an issue? I guess if Westjet wants to allow small dogs on board, that's their problem, even though I think it's fucking lame. However, it should not come at the expense of any other passenger's comfort. Dogs can be really annoying and they can do dumb things like pee or bark when they get scared. Some people will argue that crying babies on a plane can be considered just as annoying as a dog. I guess, but babies are people. Babies will grow up and do things like pay taxes and contribute to the economy and care for their aging parents. Dogs will never do those things, nor will they ever have to pay for a plane ticket.
Anyway, I think our society is going to hell in a handbasket and stupid rat-dog owners and those that coddle them are among the most to blame.
If any dog has a problem with what I have just said, I welcome your comment. Oh wait, you can't read, write, type, or form an informed opinion. You're a dog. Bite your owner hard in the ass and remind them of that, would you?
I don't mean parks or other outdoor spaces, but stores and restaurants and things.
It's always bothered me.
It could be because the dogs that get taken into places tend to be the exact sorts of dogs I don't like; little, rat-like creatures that shiver too much even though they are dressed in ridiculous little fake Louis Vuitton sweaters that their idiot owners bought them at the flea market. I think that if I was a large dog I would feel discriminated against because of my size. No one takes big dogs to stores.
I don't see why anyone would ever need to take their dog, say, shopping for eyeglasses. They cannot give you an honest opinion or advice towards your purchase. And they don't facilitate your shopping trip - they cannot hold doors for you, hold your purse while you try things on or help you carry your packages to the car. So why the hell would you take a dog shopping? It's asinine.
So, imagine my anger when I boarded a plane last Sunday morning and found out there was a dog on board.
What the fuck?
Okay, I get that some misguided souls live under illusions that their pets are like their children, no different than any other person but they really cannot be. You don't give birth to a dog. Sure, there is some training involved that may compare to a newborn baby, but that's about as far as that argument can go.
Oh sure, you may spend as much on a dog as someone else does a child, perhaps even more - your children's medical expenses are covered by the government and your pet's aren't. You know why? Because pets aren't citizens. You know why? Because they're not fucking people.
Okay I'm rambling, but here's what happened:
I was travelling with 6 other people. We had pre-booked our seats to ensure that we all sat together. So, airplane - 3 seats per row, we had 7 seats - 2 rows and the aisle seat in the next row. My stepmother took that seat. As she goes to sit down, there is already a man in her seat. She tells him she's about to sit there, and he tells her he and his wife are travelling with a dog and he hopes that's not a problem. What really can she say? She's not impressed but she's also a much easiergoing person than myself, so she grins and bears it. It's an hour and a half flight.
The stewardess comes around and tells my stepmother that once we are in the air she will move her to another seat. My stepmother tells her that she is okay where she is; she wants to sit with the rest of us.
The stewardess tells her that the dog has to remain under the seat at all times, and so if my stepmother moves to another seat, these fine folks who have graced the plane's presence with their overgrown rodent can each have some leg room.
Oh, well, of course then! We must ensure that the people who have a complete disregard for the comfort of everyone else on the plane have ample legroom! Never mind that my stepmother paid a full adult fare for her ticket (as well as for three other people) and the dog owners paid a $50 surcharge to live in a fucking fantasy land that says dogs are just as important as people. Anyway, had it been me I would've caused a scene, but my stepmother just moved to another seat.
Okay, so they cannot serve peanuts on a plane anymore and we are encouraged not to wear perfume for our fellow passengers who may be allergic. I have no problem with this. But what about those people who are allergic to dogs?
Or why were the dog owners shown more courtesy than someone who didn't bring a mangy mutt aboard. Why couldn't the dog's owners been forced to move their seat if the legroom was an issue? I guess if Westjet wants to allow small dogs on board, that's their problem, even though I think it's fucking lame. However, it should not come at the expense of any other passenger's comfort. Dogs can be really annoying and they can do dumb things like pee or bark when they get scared. Some people will argue that crying babies on a plane can be considered just as annoying as a dog. I guess, but babies are people. Babies will grow up and do things like pay taxes and contribute to the economy and care for their aging parents. Dogs will never do those things, nor will they ever have to pay for a plane ticket.
Anyway, I think our society is going to hell in a handbasket and stupid rat-dog owners and those that coddle them are among the most to blame.
If any dog has a problem with what I have just said, I welcome your comment. Oh wait, you can't read, write, type, or form an informed opinion. You're a dog. Bite your owner hard in the ass and remind them of that, would you?
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Oh, du Maurier, why hast thou forsaken me?
I know I shouldn't smoke but I do. Recently and unfortunately, my brand has undergone a makeover and I don't like it one bit.
You see, my smokes used to come in a red pack, which I loved. It was classic and elegant and had clean lines and all those other wonderful things that we want in an object that you spend the rest of your life with.
To be fair, I should mention that they have kept the sturdy, flip-top lid that holds its shape much better than other brand's packs.
Anyway, my smokes no longer come in a red pack. They're now metallic blue with a red blob in the center that tells me "Your du MAURIER Distinct taste has not changed." Well, that's fanfuckingtastic but it is the least of my concerns.
The blue is horrible, and the red blob does not work at all with it. A while ago, du Maurier put out some other brand of smokes that were more expensive and they were the same blue. But they didn't have the red blob and it was nicer.
There used to be a lady who ran the store next door and she would give me packs of these blue smokes and it was cool, because who doesn't like free smokes, but I still preferred my classic red pack. It's like the blue ones were fancy smokes; you're wearing a pretty dress so so does your smokes, not a look I wanted my smokes to wear every day.
But this new pack isn't even fancy or elegant, it's a mess if you ask me. It's garish and trendy and not at all like the iconic red pack of my not-so distant past.
Thankfully, I haven't had any particularly ugly Health Canada warnings on them yet, I hate to see how ugly my smokes will look with the teeth on them now.
The first pack I had (this is now my third) was like a stab in the heart once the person at the store assured me that the ugly smokes in her hand were indeed the ones I wanted. I couldn't believe it. I was quited troubled and lamented for a great deal of time; sharing my woes with anyone who would listen.
The next pack I got was an old one! I was thrilled, even though I knew it meant they weren't as fresh. I pledged to keep that pack and put new ones in it until it fell apart.
But I forgot. So, now I've suffered through another pack, and have just started into another.
The problem with this new design is not just aesthetic. They are also highly impractical.
First, the blue metallic pack is much harder to find in the depths of a purse. The red blob does not work like a beacon in the night like the old bright red pack used to.
Tonight I had wasted ten minutes looking for my smokes, and they were exactly where I thought they were when I first went looking. I walked by them at least 700 times, I looked like I had OCD. When I finally found them I was so angry! What a waste of my precious time!
For one thing, as you can perhaps tell, I'm still not totally adapted to the new colour yet. So I was looking for a red pack. But then, a red pack is so much more practical because it stands out so much better rather than the blue pack which blends in a little too well with my kitchen counter.
I mean, if my smokes were originally metallic blue and they changed the pack to red, I may not like it, but I wouldn't gloss right over a bright red pack like I did with the blue.
I think it's fair to say my cigarettes are causing me undue stress. I know they don't care, and get the last laugh anyway since this still is likely not enough to help me kick the habit. It really is driving me to smoke. If tobacco companies are as evil as everyone says, then perhaps this was their plan all along.
Farewell, beautiful red smokes, you are truly missed.
You see, my smokes used to come in a red pack, which I loved. It was classic and elegant and had clean lines and all those other wonderful things that we want in an object that you spend the rest of your life with.
To be fair, I should mention that they have kept the sturdy, flip-top lid that holds its shape much better than other brand's packs.
Anyway, my smokes no longer come in a red pack. They're now metallic blue with a red blob in the center that tells me "Your du MAURIER Distinct taste has not changed." Well, that's fanfuckingtastic but it is the least of my concerns.
The blue is horrible, and the red blob does not work at all with it. A while ago, du Maurier put out some other brand of smokes that were more expensive and they were the same blue. But they didn't have the red blob and it was nicer.
There used to be a lady who ran the store next door and she would give me packs of these blue smokes and it was cool, because who doesn't like free smokes, but I still preferred my classic red pack. It's like the blue ones were fancy smokes; you're wearing a pretty dress so so does your smokes, not a look I wanted my smokes to wear every day.
But this new pack isn't even fancy or elegant, it's a mess if you ask me. It's garish and trendy and not at all like the iconic red pack of my not-so distant past.
Thankfully, I haven't had any particularly ugly Health Canada warnings on them yet, I hate to see how ugly my smokes will look with the teeth on them now.
The first pack I had (this is now my third) was like a stab in the heart once the person at the store assured me that the ugly smokes in her hand were indeed the ones I wanted. I couldn't believe it. I was quited troubled and lamented for a great deal of time; sharing my woes with anyone who would listen.
The next pack I got was an old one! I was thrilled, even though I knew it meant they weren't as fresh. I pledged to keep that pack and put new ones in it until it fell apart.
But I forgot. So, now I've suffered through another pack, and have just started into another.
The problem with this new design is not just aesthetic. They are also highly impractical.
First, the blue metallic pack is much harder to find in the depths of a purse. The red blob does not work like a beacon in the night like the old bright red pack used to.
Tonight I had wasted ten minutes looking for my smokes, and they were exactly where I thought they were when I first went looking. I walked by them at least 700 times, I looked like I had OCD. When I finally found them I was so angry! What a waste of my precious time!
For one thing, as you can perhaps tell, I'm still not totally adapted to the new colour yet. So I was looking for a red pack. But then, a red pack is so much more practical because it stands out so much better rather than the blue pack which blends in a little too well with my kitchen counter.
I mean, if my smokes were originally metallic blue and they changed the pack to red, I may not like it, but I wouldn't gloss right over a bright red pack like I did with the blue.
I think it's fair to say my cigarettes are causing me undue stress. I know they don't care, and get the last laugh anyway since this still is likely not enough to help me kick the habit. It really is driving me to smoke. If tobacco companies are as evil as everyone says, then perhaps this was their plan all along.
Farewell, beautiful red smokes, you are truly missed.
Saturday, July 2, 2011
I Lost My Title and Don't Know Where to Find It
I was trying to make my blog title appear prettier and it disappeared and now I don't have one.
Monday, June 27, 2011
Lazy Sunday Food Review
Yesterday was one of the best days ever - a perfectly gorgeous lazy Sunday.
I had so many things to do yesterday but I didn't do any of them. Nothing bad came out of it, so it's cool.
I also didn't cook a single thing yesterday, unless you count making the kids' lunches for today.
I woke up hungover, but the nice kind of hangover - you're not sick, just tired, but happily so because you had a great time the night before. The kind of hangover that invites weed and chai tea and pretty music to turn it from a hangover to a five-star indulgent lazefest. I wanted to eat as soon as I woke up, no food at Boyfriend's house so wash ourselves and the children and walk down to Archie's for some breakfast.
Archies is good. I've bitched about it in the past, but I'm back on board. See, when Copperfields was open in the village, I loved breakfast there most of all. Archies seemed generic and loud and sometimes there was a lineup and they don't serve mimosas and the clientele is fairly old and judgemental. ( I might be making up judgemental - but they look judgemental. ) Anyway, Copperfields is gone, the Roadhouse serves inferior breakfast, the pub that replaced Copperfields has even worse breakfast, the four of us cannot go to Red Roaster for any less than $50 - for the same kind of crap that would cost us $15 at Tim Hortons (but Red Roaster puts spinach on theirs!!) - so I gladly walked down to a seafood restaurant for my breakfast.
Archies actually has a pretty decent breakfast menu, and the prices are fair for the quality and amount of food given. I don't like those breakfast specials with eggs, bacon, sausage, potatoes, toast, coffee things - but apparently Archies is good for that. No way man, I like French Toast, omelettes - I'm a fussypants. Archies is good for that too. Their selection is good and they do all different pancakes and Belgian waffles if you're into that thing. They put icing sugar on their French Toast, which sounds obvious, but so many places don't bother with this simple step. I'd like to call that unacceptable, but I can't in good conscience - I've eaten undusted French Toast and enjoyed myself - but it certainly is disappointing. Anyway, I give Archies French Toast 8 out of 10. And they always have good bacon and they cook it right, too. Their omelette selection is good, and they don't skimp on fillings, and they have some other yummy breakfast stuff too. I think my chocolate milk was the kind made from syrup, but it usually isn't so Imma let that slide this time since she gave me lemon with my water without me asking (another oft-neglected simple gastronomical courtesy). Archies still cost almost $60 for the four of us to have breakfast, but I didn't need to stop at the bakery for cookies right after. In fact, I left knowing the kids wouldn't want to be fed again until dinner. Priceless.
After lying in the sun stoned for an hour or so, I got the craving for chocolate and ice cream but not necessarily chocolate ice cream. I was too lazy to walk to Dairy Queen, which I normally do with a spring in my step. I knew the kids would be more than happy to go to the store for me if I let them get something. I gave them a twenty and I gave The Girl ridiculously explicit instructions as to what I wanted: Chocolate Drumstick or Drumstick-type thing. No weird flavours. Chocolate. Not chocolate and caramel or anything like that. Just chocolate. And not Rolo or Kit Kat - I want a Drumstick brand Drumstick, preferably, but DEFINITELY NOT one of the kinds where the cone is made of chocolate. I want a cone made of cone. Preferably no nuts, but if that's all they have, then fine. If you get me Caramel or Strawberry Cheesecake kind I will send you back as well as ask your father to spank you. If they don't have what I want, then get me an Oreo ice cream cookie thing. If they don't have those either, ask them if their business license is expired or something. Then, I sat uneasily, waiting for their return with bated breath.
That's a lie, I fell asleep.
When they returned, I literally fawned over what The Girl picked out for me. She told me that although they had Drumstick brand chocolate Drumsticks, she saw this one and though it seemed like something I would love, so she took the chance but was totally willing to go back if I wanted. Lemme tell ya, I don't know how it is that The Girl didn't spring from my own loins, since I'm not sure if anyone else (except perhaps the Product Development team at Klondike) could have so accurately predicted exactly what I would make a Drumstick out of I were to make a Drumstick.
So yeah, not a Drumstick. A Klondike. I think it was called Triple Chocolate Brownie Cone or something like that. I'll start at the top... Brownie chunks adorn the top of the huge pile of chocolate and vanilla ice cream. Stick your tongue in there and you'll discover a ribbon of chocolate -fudgy goodness. More ice cream that the average Drumstick, too. Not that I have any beef with the amount of ice cream on a Drumstick brand cone treat; but I do always like getting more than I expect. Then the cone. It's made out of cone, not chocolate, as per my request, but guess what? It's cone flavoured with chocolate!! I mean, it's sort of like when you have pie crust made out of Oreo crumbs, you know? But not quite that dark. Anyway, it was fantastic, and there was a generous amount of chocolate at the bottom. I have a new summer love, I'm a Klondike, ha!
The rest of the afternoon consisted of lying in the sun and on the couch. Tummies started rumbling around 5:00. By this time, I had given up on my plan of going home - I wasn't leaving the tranquility of Boyfriend's house for the laundry and vacuuming that awaited me at mine. I had told the Boy earlier that we would have pizza for dinner because Mommy didn't want to cook. Bonus about eating at Boyfriend's house? Pizza could come from Bondi's.
Oh, Bondi's, how I love you. This is seriously the best pizza in London, in my not-so-humble opinion. Where to start?
Okay crust - you can have thin or regular, whole wheat, multi-grain, gluten-free (sadly - not so good), you can even choose from 4 different flavouring options for your crust if you so desire. The topping selection is incredible. Granted, I don't know too much about their meat options as I don't like meat on my pizza, but if it's anything like their veggie and cheese options, then you wont be disappointed. Then you can choose free stuff like olive oil, Parmesan cheese, seasonings that sort of thing. I know lots of places offer this, I don't know if most people bother - but you really should, it really enhances the pizza. I know lots of other places have dipping sauce as well. Bondi's has those too, but I must speak briefly about their marinara sauce.
They do not have the pre-made things of marinara sauce. You have to ask for it. Then what they give you is a nice little container of the same sauce they use on their pizza. So it's pizza sauce, okay, but it's marinara sauce because that's what they use on their pizza. You know those pre-made marinara sauces you get at other places? They're like the bastard outcome of a three-way between salsa, ketchup and spaghetti sauce? That's not at all what I want to dip my pizza crust in! Bondi's is where it's at if you give even the tiniest fuck about marinara dipping sauce.
We ordered the kids a small pepperoni pizza. Basic yes, but that's the beauty of kids. The kids love Bondi's too. Both were stoked to hear thier pizza was coming from there, and they both happily devoured the pizza, raving about its deliciousness the whole time. I ate the jalapeno pepper from the kid's pizza. Bondi's puts one on all their pizzas - sometimes we fight over them. The Girl protested mildly about it being the kid's pizza, but I countered with something about paying for it, and Boyfriend said something about always letting others have the jalapenos and thus he intended to eat the one off the grownups pizza. Sometimes being a parent means you get to be kind of a jerk, so I ate the one off the kids' pizza and it was very tasty, as per usual. The Boy didn't say anything, he just happily munched his delicious pizza. He doesn't like jalapeno peppers anyway.
Boyfriend and I got a large thin crust pizza of our own design. We got sundried tomatoes, roasted garlic, spinach, jalapeno peppers (yes, more), and goat cheese. Then we told them to add the olive oil, Parmesan and Italian seasoning. Oh man, it was so good. Superb. Words can't even do it justice. This is a great combination of pizza toppings, I assure you. And for anyone who is leery about the heat of jalapeno peppers - please note; goat cheese cuts the heat in a way that can only be described as sublime. I wish I was a better writer and could make you taste the pizza as you read this.
Also, imagine our surprise when there was not one, but two jalapeno peppers on top of our pizza! So The Girl got to eat one after all! Everyone wins with Bondi's pizza. We were all happily, not grossly, full of delicious, well-made, perfectly greasy, but not overly so, conveniently located, marinarariffic pizza of the gods.
It was around 10:30 pm that I started to get the munchies again. We tore into a fabulous President's Choice cheesecake. I cant remember the exact name of it, but remember what I said about my Klondike cone earlier? Remove the "Cone" and add "Cheesecake" and that was the flavour, essentially. Oooh, also it had a chocolate ganache layer on top.
This was really good. I normally am all about the President's Choice cheesecakes because I find them pretty yummy, and I love, yet hate making, cheesecake. This one had an Oreo crust, 2 different kinds of chocolate inside as well as the chocolate ganache on top, so if you don't like chocolate you might not like it. But you probably still would, because it's really that good. It was the perfect late night snack, but you could serve it any time and I will come over. I know Oprah says you shouldn't eat past 7pm, but what does that fat bitch know?
I had so many things to do yesterday but I didn't do any of them. Nothing bad came out of it, so it's cool.
I also didn't cook a single thing yesterday, unless you count making the kids' lunches for today.
I woke up hungover, but the nice kind of hangover - you're not sick, just tired, but happily so because you had a great time the night before. The kind of hangover that invites weed and chai tea and pretty music to turn it from a hangover to a five-star indulgent lazefest. I wanted to eat as soon as I woke up, no food at Boyfriend's house so wash ourselves and the children and walk down to Archie's for some breakfast.
Archies is good. I've bitched about it in the past, but I'm back on board. See, when Copperfields was open in the village, I loved breakfast there most of all. Archies seemed generic and loud and sometimes there was a lineup and they don't serve mimosas and the clientele is fairly old and judgemental. ( I might be making up judgemental - but they look judgemental. ) Anyway, Copperfields is gone, the Roadhouse serves inferior breakfast, the pub that replaced Copperfields has even worse breakfast, the four of us cannot go to Red Roaster for any less than $50 - for the same kind of crap that would cost us $15 at Tim Hortons (but Red Roaster puts spinach on theirs!!) - so I gladly walked down to a seafood restaurant for my breakfast.
Archies actually has a pretty decent breakfast menu, and the prices are fair for the quality and amount of food given. I don't like those breakfast specials with eggs, bacon, sausage, potatoes, toast, coffee things - but apparently Archies is good for that. No way man, I like French Toast, omelettes - I'm a fussypants. Archies is good for that too. Their selection is good and they do all different pancakes and Belgian waffles if you're into that thing. They put icing sugar on their French Toast, which sounds obvious, but so many places don't bother with this simple step. I'd like to call that unacceptable, but I can't in good conscience - I've eaten undusted French Toast and enjoyed myself - but it certainly is disappointing. Anyway, I give Archies French Toast 8 out of 10. And they always have good bacon and they cook it right, too. Their omelette selection is good, and they don't skimp on fillings, and they have some other yummy breakfast stuff too. I think my chocolate milk was the kind made from syrup, but it usually isn't so Imma let that slide this time since she gave me lemon with my water without me asking (another oft-neglected simple gastronomical courtesy). Archies still cost almost $60 for the four of us to have breakfast, but I didn't need to stop at the bakery for cookies right after. In fact, I left knowing the kids wouldn't want to be fed again until dinner. Priceless.
After lying in the sun stoned for an hour or so, I got the craving for chocolate and ice cream but not necessarily chocolate ice cream. I was too lazy to walk to Dairy Queen, which I normally do with a spring in my step. I knew the kids would be more than happy to go to the store for me if I let them get something. I gave them a twenty and I gave The Girl ridiculously explicit instructions as to what I wanted: Chocolate Drumstick or Drumstick-type thing. No weird flavours. Chocolate. Not chocolate and caramel or anything like that. Just chocolate. And not Rolo or Kit Kat - I want a Drumstick brand Drumstick, preferably, but DEFINITELY NOT one of the kinds where the cone is made of chocolate. I want a cone made of cone. Preferably no nuts, but if that's all they have, then fine. If you get me Caramel or Strawberry Cheesecake kind I will send you back as well as ask your father to spank you. If they don't have what I want, then get me an Oreo ice cream cookie thing. If they don't have those either, ask them if their business license is expired or something. Then, I sat uneasily, waiting for their return with bated breath.
That's a lie, I fell asleep.
When they returned, I literally fawned over what The Girl picked out for me. She told me that although they had Drumstick brand chocolate Drumsticks, she saw this one and though it seemed like something I would love, so she took the chance but was totally willing to go back if I wanted. Lemme tell ya, I don't know how it is that The Girl didn't spring from my own loins, since I'm not sure if anyone else (except perhaps the Product Development team at Klondike) could have so accurately predicted exactly what I would make a Drumstick out of I were to make a Drumstick.
So yeah, not a Drumstick. A Klondike. I think it was called Triple Chocolate Brownie Cone or something like that. I'll start at the top... Brownie chunks adorn the top of the huge pile of chocolate and vanilla ice cream. Stick your tongue in there and you'll discover a ribbon of chocolate -fudgy goodness. More ice cream that the average Drumstick, too. Not that I have any beef with the amount of ice cream on a Drumstick brand cone treat; but I do always like getting more than I expect. Then the cone. It's made out of cone, not chocolate, as per my request, but guess what? It's cone flavoured with chocolate!! I mean, it's sort of like when you have pie crust made out of Oreo crumbs, you know? But not quite that dark. Anyway, it was fantastic, and there was a generous amount of chocolate at the bottom. I have a new summer love, I'm a Klondike, ha!
The rest of the afternoon consisted of lying in the sun and on the couch. Tummies started rumbling around 5:00. By this time, I had given up on my plan of going home - I wasn't leaving the tranquility of Boyfriend's house for the laundry and vacuuming that awaited me at mine. I had told the Boy earlier that we would have pizza for dinner because Mommy didn't want to cook. Bonus about eating at Boyfriend's house? Pizza could come from Bondi's.
Oh, Bondi's, how I love you. This is seriously the best pizza in London, in my not-so-humble opinion. Where to start?
Okay crust - you can have thin or regular, whole wheat, multi-grain, gluten-free (sadly - not so good), you can even choose from 4 different flavouring options for your crust if you so desire. The topping selection is incredible. Granted, I don't know too much about their meat options as I don't like meat on my pizza, but if it's anything like their veggie and cheese options, then you wont be disappointed. Then you can choose free stuff like olive oil, Parmesan cheese, seasonings that sort of thing. I know lots of places offer this, I don't know if most people bother - but you really should, it really enhances the pizza. I know lots of other places have dipping sauce as well. Bondi's has those too, but I must speak briefly about their marinara sauce.
They do not have the pre-made things of marinara sauce. You have to ask for it. Then what they give you is a nice little container of the same sauce they use on their pizza. So it's pizza sauce, okay, but it's marinara sauce because that's what they use on their pizza. You know those pre-made marinara sauces you get at other places? They're like the bastard outcome of a three-way between salsa, ketchup and spaghetti sauce? That's not at all what I want to dip my pizza crust in! Bondi's is where it's at if you give even the tiniest fuck about marinara dipping sauce.
We ordered the kids a small pepperoni pizza. Basic yes, but that's the beauty of kids. The kids love Bondi's too. Both were stoked to hear thier pizza was coming from there, and they both happily devoured the pizza, raving about its deliciousness the whole time. I ate the jalapeno pepper from the kid's pizza. Bondi's puts one on all their pizzas - sometimes we fight over them. The Girl protested mildly about it being the kid's pizza, but I countered with something about paying for it, and Boyfriend said something about always letting others have the jalapenos and thus he intended to eat the one off the grownups pizza. Sometimes being a parent means you get to be kind of a jerk, so I ate the one off the kids' pizza and it was very tasty, as per usual. The Boy didn't say anything, he just happily munched his delicious pizza. He doesn't like jalapeno peppers anyway.
Boyfriend and I got a large thin crust pizza of our own design. We got sundried tomatoes, roasted garlic, spinach, jalapeno peppers (yes, more), and goat cheese. Then we told them to add the olive oil, Parmesan and Italian seasoning. Oh man, it was so good. Superb. Words can't even do it justice. This is a great combination of pizza toppings, I assure you. And for anyone who is leery about the heat of jalapeno peppers - please note; goat cheese cuts the heat in a way that can only be described as sublime. I wish I was a better writer and could make you taste the pizza as you read this.
Also, imagine our surprise when there was not one, but two jalapeno peppers on top of our pizza! So The Girl got to eat one after all! Everyone wins with Bondi's pizza. We were all happily, not grossly, full of delicious, well-made, perfectly greasy, but not overly so, conveniently located, marinarariffic pizza of the gods.
It was around 10:30 pm that I started to get the munchies again. We tore into a fabulous President's Choice cheesecake. I cant remember the exact name of it, but remember what I said about my Klondike cone earlier? Remove the "Cone" and add "Cheesecake" and that was the flavour, essentially. Oooh, also it had a chocolate ganache layer on top.
This was really good. I normally am all about the President's Choice cheesecakes because I find them pretty yummy, and I love, yet hate making, cheesecake. This one had an Oreo crust, 2 different kinds of chocolate inside as well as the chocolate ganache on top, so if you don't like chocolate you might not like it. But you probably still would, because it's really that good. It was the perfect late night snack, but you could serve it any time and I will come over. I know Oprah says you shouldn't eat past 7pm, but what does that fat bitch know?
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
In Defense of the Snooze Button
I'm a snooze button hitter. I hit it like 6 times a morning. And man, does it drive the people who share my bed with me nuts.
My son came into my bed last night after a bad dream. No big deal. Then the alarm starts going off. By the 3rd time I hit snooze, he was angry. I told him to go sleep in his own, perfectly fine, perfectly safe bed, then. He didn't. But he sighed quite audibly every time the alarm went off.
My boyfriend hates it, too. I think his resentment of it stems from the fact that he has to get up early and I don't. His child, who is utterly clueless in the morning, has to catch her school bus pretty early, and if he doesn't get up to ensure she takes her medicine, gets dressed, makes her lunch, etc., she'll sit in front of the tv with her mouth gaping open like she has no clue what she needs to do each and every morning. This isn't my problem, as far as I'm concerned. I don't have to leave my house until 9:00.
But I set my alarm a little earlier than I have to, because, frankly, I enjoy laying in my bed half asleep/ half awake. It is during these moments in between snoozes that I plan my day. What is so wrong with that? It's when I decide what I'm going to wear, what I'm going to eat, and all those other pressing concerns one has in the morning.
My bed is the most comfortable place on earth. Why would I want to think these things at the kitchen table or something lame like that?
I don't begrudge others their morning routine, and mine works for me, so why should I have to change it?
My son came into my bed last night after a bad dream. No big deal. Then the alarm starts going off. By the 3rd time I hit snooze, he was angry. I told him to go sleep in his own, perfectly fine, perfectly safe bed, then. He didn't. But he sighed quite audibly every time the alarm went off.
My boyfriend hates it, too. I think his resentment of it stems from the fact that he has to get up early and I don't. His child, who is utterly clueless in the morning, has to catch her school bus pretty early, and if he doesn't get up to ensure she takes her medicine, gets dressed, makes her lunch, etc., she'll sit in front of the tv with her mouth gaping open like she has no clue what she needs to do each and every morning. This isn't my problem, as far as I'm concerned. I don't have to leave my house until 9:00.
But I set my alarm a little earlier than I have to, because, frankly, I enjoy laying in my bed half asleep/ half awake. It is during these moments in between snoozes that I plan my day. What is so wrong with that? It's when I decide what I'm going to wear, what I'm going to eat, and all those other pressing concerns one has in the morning.
My bed is the most comfortable place on earth. Why would I want to think these things at the kitchen table or something lame like that?
I don't begrudge others their morning routine, and mine works for me, so why should I have to change it?
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
I've found another product worth blogging about.
These "One Scrub Does It All!" things are seriously amazing.
I bought them after I had slopped paint on my hardwood floor and my dear friend suggested I use a dish scrubby to get the paint off the floors. I didn't have any scrubbies so I went to my neighbourhood Home Hardware to get some. I almost cheaped out, but then I settled on this product, at $6.29 for a 4-pack of "cleansing pads." It was important for me to effectively and safely remove these paint drips so the "Removes stains and marks from wood, tile, linoleum floors and walls without scratching the surface." claim sealed the deal.
On the way home, I read the package over and over again. There were so many promising claims on one box:
"One Scrub lasts a long, long, long time." That's three "longs!" I was so stoked.
Then I got home and I assure you, gentle reader, that my elation has only grown.
They've worked brilliantly at their intended purpose, the only reason there are still lots of paint drips on my floors is that:
a) I dripped A LOT of paint
b) I'm lazy
I've also found many other uses for it. It takes cooked food off teflon frying pans like it's nobody's business - nary a scratch or scuff in sight. It makes my porcelain sink white again, and the drain sparkles too! It's really good at getting soap scum out of the tub. (I ashamed to admit how soap scummy my tub was, but I've been really, really, really busy up until four days ago. That's three "busys!")
Fact: About a month ago I had a candle burning on my mantle and I don't know why the hell this happened, but the wax splattered onto:
1. My freshly painted wall
2. My wood mantle
3. A picture frame (silver and glass)
We're talking dried wax, here people. My One Scrub handily removed the wax from all surfaces. By handily I mean efficiently, effectively and safely.
Fact: I bought the box of One Scrubs in March. It's May. I am still on my first scrub, with three fresh ones still awaiting me in the box. I have used this thing all over my house. You might think that's gross, but you can put these things in the dishwasher which, as far as I'm concerned, kills as many germs as I need killed. AND- they totally keep their shape in the dishwasher. No shit.
So, I seriously suggest you buy yourself a box of these One Scrub Does It All! things. They are good value for your dollar because they work - safely on anything and also, they are relatively green since they last forever, and for many jobs you don't even need to use a cleansing agent, just good old tap water.
Claire Monet recommends pairing your One Scrub Does It All! cleaning experience with a Jack Daniel's Lemonade King Can for a rainy Tuesday afternoon like no other.
These "One Scrub Does It All!" things are seriously amazing.
I bought them after I had slopped paint on my hardwood floor and my dear friend suggested I use a dish scrubby to get the paint off the floors. I didn't have any scrubbies so I went to my neighbourhood Home Hardware to get some. I almost cheaped out, but then I settled on this product, at $6.29 for a 4-pack of "cleansing pads." It was important for me to effectively and safely remove these paint drips so the "Removes stains and marks from wood, tile, linoleum floors and walls without scratching the surface." claim sealed the deal.
On the way home, I read the package over and over again. There were so many promising claims on one box:
- Scours without Scratching
- Multi-Purpose
- Antibacterial - Stays Fresh
- Takes on the Toughest Jobs
- Works Where Others Won't
- Lasts Long and Stays Fresh
"One Scrub lasts a long, long, long time." That's three "longs!" I was so stoked.
Then I got home and I assure you, gentle reader, that my elation has only grown.
They've worked brilliantly at their intended purpose, the only reason there are still lots of paint drips on my floors is that:
a) I dripped A LOT of paint
b) I'm lazy
I've also found many other uses for it. It takes cooked food off teflon frying pans like it's nobody's business - nary a scratch or scuff in sight. It makes my porcelain sink white again, and the drain sparkles too! It's really good at getting soap scum out of the tub. (I ashamed to admit how soap scummy my tub was, but I've been really, really, really busy up until four days ago. That's three "busys!")
Fact: About a month ago I had a candle burning on my mantle and I don't know why the hell this happened, but the wax splattered onto:
1. My freshly painted wall
2. My wood mantle
3. A picture frame (silver and glass)
We're talking dried wax, here people. My One Scrub handily removed the wax from all surfaces. By handily I mean efficiently, effectively and safely.
Fact: I bought the box of One Scrubs in March. It's May. I am still on my first scrub, with three fresh ones still awaiting me in the box. I have used this thing all over my house. You might think that's gross, but you can put these things in the dishwasher which, as far as I'm concerned, kills as many germs as I need killed. AND- they totally keep their shape in the dishwasher. No shit.
So, I seriously suggest you buy yourself a box of these One Scrub Does It All! things. They are good value for your dollar because they work - safely on anything and also, they are relatively green since they last forever, and for many jobs you don't even need to use a cleansing agent, just good old tap water.
Claire Monet recommends pairing your One Scrub Does It All! cleaning experience with a Jack Daniel's Lemonade King Can for a rainy Tuesday afternoon like no other.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Jack Daniels v.2.0
It's a sleep welcomer.
It's a snore ignorer.
A frown remover.
It's a panty remover.
It's a snore ignorer.
A frown remover.
It's a panty remover.
Get a Load of These Cans
Jack Daniel's Lemonade King Cans are the best.
They are as close as a whiskey sour as you can get in canned form.
Not sweet at all. But fucking glorious.
Listen, I NEVER drink out of a can - EVER... these I can drink out of a can.
No shit.
I had my first one over ice, out of habit and neurosis. It gave me a delightful glow that made me not wait to get ice and pour the next one, I took a sip out of the can... it was amazing.
I'm having one right now, and I suggest you get your hands on one as soon as you can.
I would put my face on these cans.
They are as close as a whiskey sour as you can get in canned form.
Not sweet at all. But fucking glorious.
Listen, I NEVER drink out of a can - EVER... these I can drink out of a can.
No shit.
I had my first one over ice, out of habit and neurosis. It gave me a delightful glow that made me not wait to get ice and pour the next one, I took a sip out of the can... it was amazing.
I'm having one right now, and I suggest you get your hands on one as soon as you can.
I would put my face on these cans.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
I Call Bullshit. Or, Taking the High Road Licks Balls
I adore my Stepmother. She's more like a Mom to me than my own, and one of my son's favourite people in the whole wide world. Seems like my Dad's siblings don't like her, for reasons none of my or your business. Whatever, that's their perrogative. I shouldn't say they all don't like her, it seems to just be a particular few. Anyway, this week one of them (who I might add is 50 goddamn years old) was all over Facebook this week calling her a cunt. I'm not sure what she was trying to accomplish- my Stepmom never goes on Facebook. My 18 year old sister saw it though, which the Aunt surely must've known would happen. Another Aunt has been slagging her all week as well. I wanted so badly to respond, and if we all weren't supposed to see each other at my cousin's wedding in the summer, I would've put the miserable wenches in their places. But I decided to keep mum, after discussing it with my sister. My Dad has been ill and there's enough stress in their lives right now. I wanted to delete these 2 Aunts, but decided to let everything go until after the wedding, lest I contribute to any stress or drama on my cousin's special day. Even though I feel kind of like I'm betraying my Stepmom by keeping my mouth shut. You see, keeping my mouth shut when people are being nasty to someone I love is really really hard for me.
Anyway, it appears the one Aunt gave her head a shake and deleted her comments. The other Aunt has kept it up. I've known for years that this particular Aunt is a kook so I'm trying not to let it bother me, but it does. Turns out she deleted me from Facebook yesterday anyway. As well as my 18 year old sister. Which is fine by me, as I officially now dislike the bitch, who before I had no opinion of, since I don't even know her. (I've always lived pretty far away from this side of the family) But it does make me wonder, why on earth did she delete me? Is she planning on slagging my stepmother some more? I shouldn't care, I know. But I do.
Anyway, here's what troubles me more. My older sister is in cahoots with these nasty Aunts. Which, you know is fine if she wants to be friends with them. My Stepmom would never expect her not to have a relationship with them just because they don't like her. Except I know this sister well enough to know she's a two-faced bitch who thrives on causing shit. Not sure why, other than she has no life or friends. So, yesterday, this sister sends me a friend request on Facebook saying she 'accidentally' deleted me in a friend purge. This is a bullshit excuse I know, as Facebook asks you like 3 times if you're sure you want to delete this person. But whatever. She's a fucking weirdo. So I comment on her wall - basically telling her I'm calling bullshit on her little 'accident'. Her comment? That she accidentally deleted our sister Sarah as well. What a liar. Fact: this wingnut was making all sorts of mean comments and leaving nasty messages on Sarah's Facebook. Fact: Sarah (who has no internet at home) called me in tears giving me her password and asked me to go delete this sister. Fact: I tried, but it became apparent that crazy sister had already deleted her. I blocked crazy sister from Sarah for good measure. Fact: this was at least 2 months ago. Lie, Liar, Lie.
So anyway, like I said, I re-added this sister. Then I see she's friends again with our 18 year old sister, who she must have 'accidentally' deleted as well. (This is the daughter of the Stepmom for anyone having a hard time keeping up) For curiosity's sake, I checked to see who else she had 'accidentally' deleted. Lo and Behold! You guessed it, she's deleted Stepmom as well. Wow, that was quite an accident to make over and over again, and what a coincidence that it was the same people as psycho Aunt deleted as well.
Anyway, here's what really cuts my grass and may be the bit that prevents me from taking the high road after all. This (36 year old) sister 'cant afford' to go to my cousin's wedding in the summer. I knew she'd say that, it's her go-to excuse. Now, she may legit have no money, but it's because she spends all her money pampering my equally insane mother. But I digress, that's a whole other story in itself.
So my Stepmother is paying for this sister's flight and hotel room. Which is nice, great, generous, don't get me wrong. My dilemma is this: I know for certain this sister has deleted my Stepmother, talks shit about her with these Aunts and is basically taking advantage of her generosity in order to get a free trip so that she can go suckhole up to these bitches, all on my Stepmother's dime.
It is taking everything I have inside of me not to expose this sociopath for what she's doing.
My Dad is sick, I don't want to add any stress to his or my Stepmom's life. I don't want my cousin's wedding to be the setting of a family feud. But I DO want to stick up for my Stepmom, I know she would for me. I HATE two-faced people more than anything. I also hate it when people take advantage of the kindness of others. It's likely why I'm brutally honest and somewhat selfish. I hate my sister's fucked up ways. It bothers me a bazillion times more than the attitudes of some faraway relatives.
Anyway, FOR NOW I'll continue to keep quiet on the subject. Even though I feel like a douchebag. I'm going to try just blogging about it when I need to get something off my chest. I only have to go til August. Then I'm deleting every toxic, two-faced bitch that I'm embarrassed to be related to.
Happy Easter, by the way.
Anyway, it appears the one Aunt gave her head a shake and deleted her comments. The other Aunt has kept it up. I've known for years that this particular Aunt is a kook so I'm trying not to let it bother me, but it does. Turns out she deleted me from Facebook yesterday anyway. As well as my 18 year old sister. Which is fine by me, as I officially now dislike the bitch, who before I had no opinion of, since I don't even know her. (I've always lived pretty far away from this side of the family) But it does make me wonder, why on earth did she delete me? Is she planning on slagging my stepmother some more? I shouldn't care, I know. But I do.
Anyway, here's what troubles me more. My older sister is in cahoots with these nasty Aunts. Which, you know is fine if she wants to be friends with them. My Stepmom would never expect her not to have a relationship with them just because they don't like her. Except I know this sister well enough to know she's a two-faced bitch who thrives on causing shit. Not sure why, other than she has no life or friends. So, yesterday, this sister sends me a friend request on Facebook saying she 'accidentally' deleted me in a friend purge. This is a bullshit excuse I know, as Facebook asks you like 3 times if you're sure you want to delete this person. But whatever. She's a fucking weirdo. So I comment on her wall - basically telling her I'm calling bullshit on her little 'accident'. Her comment? That she accidentally deleted our sister Sarah as well. What a liar. Fact: this wingnut was making all sorts of mean comments and leaving nasty messages on Sarah's Facebook. Fact: Sarah (who has no internet at home) called me in tears giving me her password and asked me to go delete this sister. Fact: I tried, but it became apparent that crazy sister had already deleted her. I blocked crazy sister from Sarah for good measure. Fact: this was at least 2 months ago. Lie, Liar, Lie.
So anyway, like I said, I re-added this sister. Then I see she's friends again with our 18 year old sister, who she must have 'accidentally' deleted as well. (This is the daughter of the Stepmom for anyone having a hard time keeping up) For curiosity's sake, I checked to see who else she had 'accidentally' deleted. Lo and Behold! You guessed it, she's deleted Stepmom as well. Wow, that was quite an accident to make over and over again, and what a coincidence that it was the same people as psycho Aunt deleted as well.
Anyway, here's what really cuts my grass and may be the bit that prevents me from taking the high road after all. This (36 year old) sister 'cant afford' to go to my cousin's wedding in the summer. I knew she'd say that, it's her go-to excuse. Now, she may legit have no money, but it's because she spends all her money pampering my equally insane mother. But I digress, that's a whole other story in itself.
So my Stepmother is paying for this sister's flight and hotel room. Which is nice, great, generous, don't get me wrong. My dilemma is this: I know for certain this sister has deleted my Stepmother, talks shit about her with these Aunts and is basically taking advantage of her generosity in order to get a free trip so that she can go suckhole up to these bitches, all on my Stepmother's dime.
It is taking everything I have inside of me not to expose this sociopath for what she's doing.
My Dad is sick, I don't want to add any stress to his or my Stepmom's life. I don't want my cousin's wedding to be the setting of a family feud. But I DO want to stick up for my Stepmom, I know she would for me. I HATE two-faced people more than anything. I also hate it when people take advantage of the kindness of others. It's likely why I'm brutally honest and somewhat selfish. I hate my sister's fucked up ways. It bothers me a bazillion times more than the attitudes of some faraway relatives.
Anyway, FOR NOW I'll continue to keep quiet on the subject. Even though I feel like a douchebag. I'm going to try just blogging about it when I need to get something off my chest. I only have to go til August. Then I'm deleting every toxic, two-faced bitch that I'm embarrassed to be related to.
Happy Easter, by the way.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Why Being a Student Rules
1. If I'm late for something, I can say "I lost my ipod and that's my only clock" - this is accepted as a perfectly reasonable excuse.
2. Everyone is always uber-concerned about my health, happiness, and general well-being here at University. You won't find that in the workforce. Well, not anywhere I personally worked anyway.
3. There is free food and swag around almost every corner.
4. Among my student peers, I don't stand out as the only tard who never learned to drive. They're all in the same boat. And among the older crowd like the profs, no one assumes I'm poor or retarded or epileptic or had too many DUI's like they do in the outside world. They think I'm smart and progressive.
5. Free bus pass! (see above)
6. This is related to being a history student specifically... They don't call us students, they call us historians. I like that.
7. People go out of their way to help you in their work. Like the librarian who tracked down a book for me at the public library. Or the Prof who brought me in a book to read to help with my research for another prof's class.
8. No one laughs when I say I find social policy reform fascinating.
9. I like purple.
10. If I had a job and fell asleep, I would get fired. Here, if I fall asleep, someone taps me on the shoulder and says, "What time is your class? Do you want me to wake you up?"
2. Everyone is always uber-concerned about my health, happiness, and general well-being here at University. You won't find that in the workforce. Well, not anywhere I personally worked anyway.
3. There is free food and swag around almost every corner.
4. Among my student peers, I don't stand out as the only tard who never learned to drive. They're all in the same boat. And among the older crowd like the profs, no one assumes I'm poor or retarded or epileptic or had too many DUI's like they do in the outside world. They think I'm smart and progressive.
5. Free bus pass! (see above)
6. This is related to being a history student specifically... They don't call us students, they call us historians. I like that.
7. People go out of their way to help you in their work. Like the librarian who tracked down a book for me at the public library. Or the Prof who brought me in a book to read to help with my research for another prof's class.
8. No one laughs when I say I find social policy reform fascinating.
9. I like purple.
10. If I had a job and fell asleep, I would get fired. Here, if I fall asleep, someone taps me on the shoulder and says, "What time is your class? Do you want me to wake you up?"
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
More Love for the Man
Maybe it's because I have Spring Fever or something, but I have been feeling especially grateful for my boyfriend the last little while. We are not without our problems - we have some issues we're trying to work through - we're doing pretty good at it I think - and I know I have done my share of complaining about what a lout he is so I decided the best way to counter that (because lets face it, I'll complain about him soon) is to express my gratitude with the same frequency I express my complaints.
Anyway, who cares? I shouldn't have to justify loving my boyfriend. This is my motherfucking blog.
So sometimes he does or says something that almost brings me to tears because I can tell just how bloody much he adores me. I can't explain it to you but I can see it in his eyes, corny as that may sound.
So today, we're out for lunch and we're talking about a referendum that just happened at my school and he tells me I should get involved in student politics because I'd be really good at it. I tell him no way would I be really good at it, because, "...they're all way smarter than me anyway." He got so angry! I was like "Why the anger?" and this is what he said...
"Because I love you so much and I think you're the smartest person there."
Now okay, I realize this is akin to your Mom telling you you're the prettiest girl in the world, but there it was - the look on his face - he meant it. I can tell. I was bashful and honoured and felt really loved. It is irrelevant that the real reason I don't get involved is because I think I'm too old. My boyfriend adores the shit out of me and thinks I'm super smart. And for that, I am grateful.
Anyway, who cares? I shouldn't have to justify loving my boyfriend. This is my motherfucking blog.
So sometimes he does or says something that almost brings me to tears because I can tell just how bloody much he adores me. I can't explain it to you but I can see it in his eyes, corny as that may sound.
So today, we're out for lunch and we're talking about a referendum that just happened at my school and he tells me I should get involved in student politics because I'd be really good at it. I tell him no way would I be really good at it, because, "...they're all way smarter than me anyway." He got so angry! I was like "Why the anger?" and this is what he said...
"Because I love you so much and I think you're the smartest person there."
Now okay, I realize this is akin to your Mom telling you you're the prettiest girl in the world, but there it was - the look on his face - he meant it. I can tell. I was bashful and honoured and felt really loved. It is irrelevant that the real reason I don't get involved is because I think I'm too old. My boyfriend adores the shit out of me and thinks I'm super smart. And for that, I am grateful.
Saturday, March 19, 2011
TEN REASONS WHY MY BOYFRIEND IS PRETTY AWESOME (...despite what I may complain about from time to time)
I'm trying to keep this blog happy. This is sort of my way of making up for the post where I call him Belial...
1. He has these overgrown thumbs that are really good at working the knots out of my back.
2. I'm broke and have no food. He's been feeding me for days. Food I like, too.
3. He read Paradise Lost so I didn't have to.
4. He tries to make sure I always have weed.
5. He makes me laugh so hard it hurts.
6. He gives me the CD's that come with the albums he buys.
7. The look he is giving me right now.
8. He's clueless sometimes about how sweet he is. See above.
9. I am prone to anxiety attacks and he is prone to calming me down.
10. I tend to believe him when he says I'm beautiful.
1. He has these overgrown thumbs that are really good at working the knots out of my back.
2. I'm broke and have no food. He's been feeding me for days. Food I like, too.
3. He read Paradise Lost so I didn't have to.
4. He tries to make sure I always have weed.
5. He makes me laugh so hard it hurts.
6. He gives me the CD's that come with the albums he buys.
7. The look he is giving me right now.
8. He's clueless sometimes about how sweet he is. See above.
9. I am prone to anxiety attacks and he is prone to calming me down.
10. I tend to believe him when he says I'm beautiful.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
More Writing Tips - This Time from One of My Heroes
My prof showed us this in lecture today. I heart Jack. Enjoy!
Fellow writers were always asking Kerouac how he did what he did. So Kerouac set down 30 essentials in something he called “Belief and Technique for Modern Prose.” These tips may or may not make sense to you, but that’s Kerouac, man:
- Scribbled secret notebooks, and wild typewritten pages, for yr own joy
- Submissive to everything, open, listening
- Try never get drunk outside yr own house
- Be in love with yr life
- Something that you feel will find its own form
- Be crazy dumbsaint of the mind
- Blow as deep as you want to blow
- Write what you want bottomless from bottom of the mind
- The unspeakable visions of the individual
- No time for poetry but exactly what is
- Visionary tics shivering in the chest
- In tranced fixation dreaming upon object before you
- Remove literary, grammatical and syntactical inhibition
- Like Proust be an old teahead of time
- Telling the true story of the world in interior monolog
- The jewel center of interest is the eye within the eye
- Write in recollection and amazement for yourself
- Work from pithy middle eye out, swimming in language sea
- Accept loss forever
- Believe in the holy contour of life
- Struggle to sketch the flow that already exists intact in mind
- Don’t think of words when you stop but to see picture better
- Keep track of every day the date emblazoned in yr morning
- No fear or shame in the dignity of yr experience, language & knowledge
- Write for the world to read and see yr exact pictures of it
- Bookmovie is the movie in words, the visual American form
- In praise of Character in the Bleak inhuman Loneliness
- Composing wild, undisciplined, pure, coming in from under, crazier the better
- You’re a Genius all the time
- Writer-Director of Earthly movies Sponsored & Angeled in Heaven
Monday, March 14, 2011
How To Write Or, How I Write
Oh poor blog I'm so sorry to have neglected you.
I've been so swamped with the writing I'm supposed to do that I haven't even had a peek at you. Good thing we only have 3 followers, eh?
Anyway, since writing has taken over my life, I thought I'd write a bit about writing.
People ask me all the time: "Damn girl, how DO you do it?" (Okay, no one I know talks ghetto-fab but I wish they did)
So, since I'm laking the creativity & brain juices to do anything else, I hereby present to you...
RECIPE FOR WRITING SUCCESS!!!
I've been so swamped with the writing I'm supposed to do that I haven't even had a peek at you. Good thing we only have 3 followers, eh?
Anyway, since writing has taken over my life, I thought I'd write a bit about writing.
People ask me all the time: "Damn girl, how DO you do it?" (Okay, no one I know talks ghetto-fab but I wish they did)
So, since I'm laking the creativity & brain juices to do anything else, I hereby present to you...
RECIPE FOR WRITING SUCCESS!!!
- You need a topic. This seems obvious but sometimes they're hard to narrow down.
- You need a thesis. This is very important. It's your argument, the whole point of your paper, Baby. When in doubt - WHATEVER YOU ARE WRITING ABOUT IS CLASSIST. You can prove that just about anything in history is classist thanks to the proliferation of:
- a) things that actually are classist
- b) Marxist historians and their bleeding heart research
- 12 cans of Coca-Cola classic, to be consumed during those all nighters.
- A boyfriend with big hands to pop the air bubbles in your tummy brought on by all that Coke
- 1 roll of Pilsbury Cookie Dough
- half to be eaten raw
- half to be baked - cookies consumed fresh from the oven while writing are delightful
- Cigarettes. Lots.
- An area where smoking is permitted, close to where you're working. Cigarettes make you focus and are a great excuse to take a break.
- Marijuana. NOT A LOT! This is important unless you have better willpower than I do.
- One tiny bowl can really get those creative juices flowing.
- You will also need some for after you finish your paper, but before you put in footnotes. At this point, all intelligent work is completed, and you deserve not only a break but something to make the drudgery of your citations more enjoyable.
- A clean, well lighted place. Hemingway, wasn't it? He was on to something.
- Q107 on the radio. Their stoner DJ's make sitting at your computer at 3 am considerably more entertaining.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
It's Not That Easy
So, I have a class this semester called Me, Myself and I: The First Person Narrative. We have an assignment due on Thursday where we have to write about our own first person narrative style. The prof suggested looking at how we present ourselves on Facebook, Twitter, blogs, etc. So I came here to see how I present myself and this is all I could come up with:
Don't get me wrong, I think the idea for the paper is a cool one, and being aware of how you present yourself is probably important. But what if you don't like how you present yourself? Can I write this paper without falling into self-loathing? I haven't even written it yet and I'm already embarrassed that the prof is going to read it.
I've never really enjoyed talking about myself at any length, usually because I don't know where to start. I mean, ask me questions and I'll gladly answer them, but say "Tell me all about yourself," and I look like a stammering fool. Like, I hate when people ask me what my hobbies are because I don't have any and it makes me feel inferior. I cannot strike up random conversations, and I'm really bad at small talk. Even worse at pretending to care about what the other person is talking about, which is probably why I'm so disliked (although I think claims of my unlikeability have been greatly exaggerated)
This post has been mainly me thinking out loud (or type-thinking? I don't know) as I try to sort out how to tackle this assignment. I've realized that talking/writing about yourself is harder than it seems. Or, harder for me anyway. Maybe that's why I can write a mean history essay - they're supposed to be impersonal, factual and argumentative. I have to prove everything I say, and the use of personal narrative is forbidden.
But, alas, this is an English paper and at least I don't have to do research.
- I don't have, and don't want, my real identity on here. Although someone with a modicum of sleuthing skills could figure out it's me I don't necessarily want people to know I have a blog. I feel that by remaining anonymous it allows me to write freer. See, if people knew I had a blog I would feel pressure to keep it updated and intelligent. I also feel that I couldn't be as honest if my identity were known. I'm not blogging for followers or anything, for me it's a purely personal cathartic undertaking. I can say what I want without worrying about the consequences. So, what does that say about me? That I'm a pussy, I guess.
- I tried to make my blog a complaint-free zone. This didn't work. Which says I'm a complainer.
- I'm kind of sarcastic on here - but that actually is a true reflection of me. I'm sarcastic.
- I don't really have much of anything to say most of the time. I think this might stem from trying to keep the blog positive and not complainey... I'm at my best when grinding axes.
Don't get me wrong, I think the idea for the paper is a cool one, and being aware of how you present yourself is probably important. But what if you don't like how you present yourself? Can I write this paper without falling into self-loathing? I haven't even written it yet and I'm already embarrassed that the prof is going to read it.
I've never really enjoyed talking about myself at any length, usually because I don't know where to start. I mean, ask me questions and I'll gladly answer them, but say "Tell me all about yourself," and I look like a stammering fool. Like, I hate when people ask me what my hobbies are because I don't have any and it makes me feel inferior. I cannot strike up random conversations, and I'm really bad at small talk. Even worse at pretending to care about what the other person is talking about, which is probably why I'm so disliked (although I think claims of my unlikeability have been greatly exaggerated)
This post has been mainly me thinking out loud (or type-thinking? I don't know) as I try to sort out how to tackle this assignment. I've realized that talking/writing about yourself is harder than it seems. Or, harder for me anyway. Maybe that's why I can write a mean history essay - they're supposed to be impersonal, factual and argumentative. I have to prove everything I say, and the use of personal narrative is forbidden.
But, alas, this is an English paper and at least I don't have to do research.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Why I Have No Street Cred v.2.0
Ten more reasons:
1. I am wearing Juicy Couture rubber boots. And it's not raining.
2. I believe in God, and consider myself a Christian, although just how much of a Christian I am is debatable.
3. As illustrated above, I don't take all of my beliefs and convictions as seriously as some would like.
4. R. Kelly's Ignition remix is one of my favourtite songs of all time.
5. I have never struggled with any major addictions or demons. Which I sort of take as a good thing, but apparently it doesn't make me very worldly.
6. I would not date someone who didn't have a job.
7. I encouraged my 11 year old pseudo-stepdaughter to open a Twitter account so she could follow Justin Bieber.
8. I then spent half an hour in her Twitter account following Justin Bieber myself.
9. I'd rather read Us Weekly than Bukowski.
10. I wish there was a Starbucks on every corner, I really do.
1. I am wearing Juicy Couture rubber boots. And it's not raining.
2. I believe in God, and consider myself a Christian, although just how much of a Christian I am is debatable.
3. As illustrated above, I don't take all of my beliefs and convictions as seriously as some would like.
4. R. Kelly's Ignition remix is one of my favourtite songs of all time.
5. I have never struggled with any major addictions or demons. Which I sort of take as a good thing, but apparently it doesn't make me very worldly.
6. I would not date someone who didn't have a job.
7. I encouraged my 11 year old pseudo-stepdaughter to open a Twitter account so she could follow Justin Bieber.
8. I then spent half an hour in her Twitter account following Justin Bieber myself.
9. I'd rather read Us Weekly than Bukowski.
10. I wish there was a Starbucks on every corner, I really do.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Why I Have No Street Cred
1. I like my punk poppy - not crusty. (When I like it all)
2. I don't wear nearly enough eyeliner.
3. I don't want to drink Strongbow. I want to drink Veuve Clicquot.
4. I don't give a fuck about Nicaragua. Or Egypt. Or Haiti. Or whatever far-off land du jour everyone's talking about.
5.I used to vote Conservative. Stevie creeps me right the fuck out, so I haven't voted Blue in a while, but before him... card carrying member. I would go back if they would get rid of that douche.
6.I buy the majority of my clothes at The Gap. Further, I believe their use of sweatshops is an excellent business decision. Cheap labour keeps prices down, whether you like it or not. Also, although perhaps not up to our North American standards, these factories are legitimate employers for people who would perhaps otherwise have to resort to begging or the sex trade.
7. I think that people who always say they have no money to go out would have a lot more money if they didn't drink so much. (At their home, of course)
8. I don't own leopard print tights, and I strongly believe the manufacture of such hosiery in any size over Small should be illegal.
9. I have never been on welfare. (Although hoping to change that this summer)
10. I am not in University so that I can do good and make positive changes for our world. I am there because I hope to earn a big fat paycheck which will enable me to buy all the Veuve Clicquot and diamonds I want.
These are just the first ten reasons, there's lots more but I feel that ten at a time is plenty.
2. I don't wear nearly enough eyeliner.
3. I don't want to drink Strongbow. I want to drink Veuve Clicquot.
4. I don't give a fuck about Nicaragua. Or Egypt. Or Haiti. Or whatever far-off land du jour everyone's talking about.
5.I used to vote Conservative. Stevie creeps me right the fuck out, so I haven't voted Blue in a while, but before him... card carrying member. I would go back if they would get rid of that douche.
6.I buy the majority of my clothes at The Gap. Further, I believe their use of sweatshops is an excellent business decision. Cheap labour keeps prices down, whether you like it or not. Also, although perhaps not up to our North American standards, these factories are legitimate employers for people who would perhaps otherwise have to resort to begging or the sex trade.
7. I think that people who always say they have no money to go out would have a lot more money if they didn't drink so much. (At their home, of course)
8. I don't own leopard print tights, and I strongly believe the manufacture of such hosiery in any size over Small should be illegal.
9. I have never been on welfare. (Although hoping to change that this summer)
10. I am not in University so that I can do good and make positive changes for our world. I am there because I hope to earn a big fat paycheck which will enable me to buy all the Veuve Clicquot and diamonds I want.
These are just the first ten reasons, there's lots more but I feel that ten at a time is plenty.
Meh
Is it wrong that I'm too lazy to go to school today? I have tomorrow off (and the whole next week) so there's really no excuse for it other than laziness and boredom. I have two English classes today and in each we're doing Robert Browning poems. That's a lot of Browning *yawn*
I just really don't want to go. So I'm not.
I just really don't want to go. So I'm not.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Everlasting, My Ass!
When I was a kid my favourite candy was Everlasting Gobstoppers. Mmmm... so good, especially the purple ones.
I went to the store today to get my required supplies to pull the all-night essay writing session that's going down up in here. So, I got my Salt & Vinegar chips, my Junior Mints, my Coca Cola, my cigarettes (yep, sorry, I need them when I write. I'll quit again on Wednesday.) Brain food, ya know? Then I noticed the Gobstopper box. I haven't had them in years. Yum, up on the counter they go too. I seriously spent almost $25 at the corner store. It was embarrassing. Well, I did buy milk, too. But I digress.
Look, when I was a kid a box of Gobstoppers would last me all day. Or could last me all day, I'm sure I had my moments of childlike savagery. I'm a grownup now, and I have a tummy that doesn't agree with too much candy at once, so I thought the box would last me a day and a half. And it should've, except they're bleeping tiny now! You know, you used to have to suck them to get to the delicious candy centre - these little things I could bite right through! And so could the boy, so don't give me any guff about the strength of a grownup jaw. I felt really ripped off. And there were only 2 purple ones in the whole box, and those are my favourites. But man, they're still delicious.
On the box they're still labelled as "Jawbreakers." Maybe Stuart Little's jaw, not mine. I don't like misrepresentation . I am so pissed off at Willy Wonka right now.
I went to the store today to get my required supplies to pull the all-night essay writing session that's going down up in here. So, I got my Salt & Vinegar chips, my Junior Mints, my Coca Cola, my cigarettes (yep, sorry, I need them when I write. I'll quit again on Wednesday.) Brain food, ya know? Then I noticed the Gobstopper box. I haven't had them in years. Yum, up on the counter they go too. I seriously spent almost $25 at the corner store. It was embarrassing. Well, I did buy milk, too. But I digress.
Look, when I was a kid a box of Gobstoppers would last me all day. Or could last me all day, I'm sure I had my moments of childlike savagery. I'm a grownup now, and I have a tummy that doesn't agree with too much candy at once, so I thought the box would last me a day and a half. And it should've, except they're bleeping tiny now! You know, you used to have to suck them to get to the delicious candy centre - these little things I could bite right through! And so could the boy, so don't give me any guff about the strength of a grownup jaw. I felt really ripped off. And there were only 2 purple ones in the whole box, and those are my favourites. But man, they're still delicious.
On the box they're still labelled as "Jawbreakers." Maybe Stuart Little's jaw, not mine. I don't like misrepresentation . I am so pissed off at Willy Wonka right now.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Monday, January 31, 2011
Another Kick At The Can
Today I am making a solid effort to quit smoking. I don't even really want to so that worries me a bit - don't you always hear that people are most successful at it when it's something they really want to do? I really enjoy smoking, actually. But it's yucky and it's expensive and I really don't want the boy growing up thinking it's okay. Plus I've started to wheeze. I'm not a heavy smoker at all, but what with the resilient gray hairs and the varicose veins, the wheezing troubles me. I have 2 smokes left and I'm not buying anymore. (So I say) Well, good luck to me, I'm glad it's super cold out.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
It's Going Around
How come whenever someone gets a cold or flu in the winter someone always says "It's going around"? I mean, that's what viruses do - go around. I would like it if someone could provide me evidence of a time during the winter when there isn't a virus going around. I would like it if I said, "I have the flu", someone else said ; "Really?!?! OH MY GOD! That's crazy - there's nothing like that going around!!" Just once.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
If this turns out to be the only thing I take away from "Paradise Lost", well, that will be just fine
It's funny the things that can comfort you. I'm currently reading Paradise Lost for English class and really not enjoying it.
Since Friday I have gotten the silent treatment from my boyfriend, or not my boyfriend, over something really ridiculous. I tried to give him a day or two to cool down, but instead I have been assaulted with a barrage of insulting text messages and emails. I'm trying to leave him alone, and have asked him to leave me alone, but it's not working.
Now, even though I know that his insults are mainly untrue, unfair and said in anger - they still hurt. Especially the ones that illustrate he thinks I'm a lying, insignificant racist. (I was not aware that the word himey was a derrogatory slang for a Jewish person - I only thought it meant cheap. I assure you it is a word I will never use again) Anyway...
So these insults hurt my feelings, as they would anyone's, especially coming from someone who tells you how wonderful you are. I try to smirk as I read them because I prefer smirking to crying. But it's hard.
So, today in English class...
My professor is talking about some of Satan's more prolific fallen angels. And he starts talking about Belial (sp?)
He starts going on about how Belial is able to trick people with his speech into thinking he's a great, smart, rational guy, but a close reading of Belial's speeches reveal that they are baseless, nonsensical, and fundamentally untrue. I perked right up. My prof says that although Belial uses his syntax and his big words properly, his logic is garbled because his mind is garbled. I liked that. And not just because it gave me a pretentious new argument, but I really actually took comfort in it. Boyfriend's mind is garbled, well, in his case - pickled is probably a better word. He can be as gramatically correct and use as many big words as he wants. He's still a dumb liar.
Since Friday I have gotten the silent treatment from my boyfriend, or not my boyfriend, over something really ridiculous. I tried to give him a day or two to cool down, but instead I have been assaulted with a barrage of insulting text messages and emails. I'm trying to leave him alone, and have asked him to leave me alone, but it's not working.
Now, even though I know that his insults are mainly untrue, unfair and said in anger - they still hurt. Especially the ones that illustrate he thinks I'm a lying, insignificant racist. (I was not aware that the word himey was a derrogatory slang for a Jewish person - I only thought it meant cheap. I assure you it is a word I will never use again) Anyway...
So these insults hurt my feelings, as they would anyone's, especially coming from someone who tells you how wonderful you are. I try to smirk as I read them because I prefer smirking to crying. But it's hard.
So, today in English class...
My professor is talking about some of Satan's more prolific fallen angels. And he starts talking about Belial (sp?)
He starts going on about how Belial is able to trick people with his speech into thinking he's a great, smart, rational guy, but a close reading of Belial's speeches reveal that they are baseless, nonsensical, and fundamentally untrue. I perked right up. My prof says that although Belial uses his syntax and his big words properly, his logic is garbled because his mind is garbled. I liked that. And not just because it gave me a pretentious new argument, but I really actually took comfort in it. Boyfriend's mind is garbled, well, in his case - pickled is probably a better word. He can be as gramatically correct and use as many big words as he wants. He's still a dumb liar.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Don't I Look Pretty?
So I just wasted an hour playing dress up with my blog. Don't be surprised if there's a new look more often than seems necessary. This thing is to be a reflection of myself, right? Well, I like wearing all sorts of different outfits, too!
Saturday, January 22, 2011
It's like finding out Santa is really your parents all over again
One of my favourite songs of all time is "Clouds" by Hole. I love it dearly, want it played at my funeral and everything. (One of my few regrets is allowing my ex-husband to convince me that it wasn't an appropriate choice to play at our wedding) Never mind that, one of my best teenage memories is the year Hole played at Lollapalooza and actually performed this song, it was like heaven, as I recall.
So, the hangover wearing off enough for me to do some light school-work, I start going through one of my poetry books, and "Both Sides, Now" by Joni Mitchell jumps out at me from the table of contents. I don't know why, my inner hippie was showing or something.
I start reading the poem and realize it's the lyrics to Clouds. Now, the lyrics-lover in me was somewhat pleased because I've never been able to know with complete certainty what exactly the words Courtney is screaming are. I can't help reading the poem as if she's singing it. Out loud. My upstairs neighbor isn't home so why not? It turned out to be a fairly enjoyable diversion on this snowy, shitty day.
What bothers me is the disappointment I feel. Why do I all of a sudden love this song a little less? It's not like I have beef with Joni Mitchell. I feel fairly proud of old Corky for being a little bit more well-read than I might have thought. The song is on the "Pretty on the Inside" album, which I grab off the shelf and start reading the liner notes to. They've got the lyrics for each song - I notice that "Clouds" does not have the complete lyrics - only one verse, which must have been the only one the band actually wrote. Nowhere is there any indication that Joni Mitchell is responsible for the rest of the lyrics.
"All songs - Hole 1991
Bad Sister Music BMI"
(no asterisks or exceptions follow this)
Hole also wishes to thank a number of people... Joni Mitchell isn't one of them.
So, I am partly bothered by this, but the disappointment had kicked in well before I discovered this slight. Why? I honestly think I'm disappointed because the song no longer seems as cool or something - what a fucking elitist mentality but I can't seem to shake it. Would my teenaged self had liked the song as much if she knew Joni Mitchell wrote it? Probably not. But why the hell does my 33 year old self, who, if we're being honest here would probably rather listen to Joni Mitchell than Hole these days, still care about the farce that people like to call street-cred? I think I best go smoke a bowl and do some serious self-reflection, sorry homework, you'll have to wait.
Both Sides, Now
Rows and flows of angel hair,
and ice cream castles in the air,
and feather canyons ev'rywhere,
I've looked at clouds that way.
But now they only block the sun,
they rain and snow on ev'ryone,
so many things I could have done,
but clouds got in the way.
I've looked at clouds from both sides now,
from up and down and still somehow
it's cloud illusions I recall;
I really don't know clouds at all.
-Joni Mitchell, 1967
So, the hangover wearing off enough for me to do some light school-work, I start going through one of my poetry books, and "Both Sides, Now" by Joni Mitchell jumps out at me from the table of contents. I don't know why, my inner hippie was showing or something.
I start reading the poem and realize it's the lyrics to Clouds. Now, the lyrics-lover in me was somewhat pleased because I've never been able to know with complete certainty what exactly the words Courtney is screaming are. I can't help reading the poem as if she's singing it. Out loud. My upstairs neighbor isn't home so why not? It turned out to be a fairly enjoyable diversion on this snowy, shitty day.
What bothers me is the disappointment I feel. Why do I all of a sudden love this song a little less? It's not like I have beef with Joni Mitchell. I feel fairly proud of old Corky for being a little bit more well-read than I might have thought. The song is on the "Pretty on the Inside" album, which I grab off the shelf and start reading the liner notes to. They've got the lyrics for each song - I notice that "Clouds" does not have the complete lyrics - only one verse, which must have been the only one the band actually wrote. Nowhere is there any indication that Joni Mitchell is responsible for the rest of the lyrics.
"All songs - Hole 1991
Bad Sister Music BMI"
(no asterisks or exceptions follow this)
Hole also wishes to thank a number of people... Joni Mitchell isn't one of them.
So, I am partly bothered by this, but the disappointment had kicked in well before I discovered this slight. Why? I honestly think I'm disappointed because the song no longer seems as cool or something - what a fucking elitist mentality but I can't seem to shake it. Would my teenaged self had liked the song as much if she knew Joni Mitchell wrote it? Probably not. But why the hell does my 33 year old self, who, if we're being honest here would probably rather listen to Joni Mitchell than Hole these days, still care about the farce that people like to call street-cred? I think I best go smoke a bowl and do some serious self-reflection, sorry homework, you'll have to wait.
Both Sides, Now
Rows and flows of angel hair,
and ice cream castles in the air,
and feather canyons ev'rywhere,
I've looked at clouds that way.
But now they only block the sun,
they rain and snow on ev'ryone,
so many things I could have done,
but clouds got in the way.
I've looked at clouds from both sides now,
from up and down and still somehow
it's cloud illusions I recall;
I really don't know clouds at all.
-Joni Mitchell, 1967
My head hurts. No one else seems to like white wine so I drank the whold bottle myself. My tummy hurts, but that's nothing new. Gluten and lactose intolerances exacerbated by eating only cheese and crackers yesterday. My legs feel like they weigh 435739 pounds. Each. I think this all means I should stay in bed all day. I like not having a job.
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