So the wedding was today. I was actually surprised at how low stress our preparationg were this morning. Woke up at 8:30 (actually, I slept in til 9:30 because I was so beat) and had a shower, and went to get my hair done. It's pretty much the same, just a trim. But the fucking hairdresser thought I was 16! |:< Wtfffffff. She was asking about my sister, because we've been in together sometimes, and I said she was good, and that she'd just turned 18 yesterday. And she was like "Oh, okay... Wait, what? Ohhh I thought you were like 16!" Fuck my liiiife.
So, hair did, and we kind of just went home and hung around until it was time to go. I bought some liquid brown eyeliner, which I actually like a lot. It's a lot bolder than a pencil, and makes your makeup instantly more dramatic. And hey, you pretty much don't need to reapply it, unlike pencil liner. Did my makeup, straightened my bangs and put on my dress (SO PRETTY). Aw shit, I just realized there are no pictures of me, like just me, that I could post. Or of the dress. Well, maybe I'll remedy that later.
Anyway, Peter in his kilt, Max (who looked fantastic) and I took a cab there, and Mum, Sean, Rachel and Maya drove. We ended up getting there waaaay before them, BUT, I left the envelope with Jenny and Ross' wedding present in it at home in my other purse. Fuck, fuck me. But it's alright, I'll give it to them on a later date.
It was a church ceremony, because Ross is Catholic, and man, faith makes me uncomfortable. And then my mum kept looking over at me when everyone was saying their 'amens' and whatever, like "Oh my god, you're being rude." Well, sorry I'm "the Big A", as Sean put it. And there was this part in the ceremony where the priest was reading something like "fear the Lord for he is..." and then everyone repeats the same thing. And it just sounded like some fucked up FEAR THE WRATH OF GOD mantra.
But it was a nice ceremony. I'll admit, I teared up a little bit, but only once, when Jenny walked in with her dad. And oh, I just realized that Jenny never threw her bouquet.
The reception was at Van Dusen gardens, and the was okay. There were a couple of speechs, a dumb poem written by Ross' mom and accompanied by a slideshow, and dancing. And seriously, this dress like, leaked glitter everywhere. I am personally covered in glitter: my hair, my arms, my chest, my face, my legs, and pretty much everything I touched/went near. My seat in the church, my seat at the reception, the dance floor, the bathroom stall I used, Maxs' hair/face/clothes, and everyone else I came into contact with. Like, I am serious; it was all over the dance floor.
And aaah, I wish I wasn't such a freak. I wanted to dance more and chill, but I got all stressed out. But Max coerced me into dancing more than a few times, and I ended up having a good time. They played Sandstorm vs Blow Your Mind (a short version, thank god) so I had to dance to that. A few other good songs, and only a couple slow ones. We danced to all of those. The last one was 8 Days A Week, and it was very sweet because Max was singing the words to me as we danced. Le sigh.
And you know what would be fun? If we could take dance lessons. Like, some kind of traditional ballroom dancing. Or like, swing dancing or something. I dunno, I've kind of always wanted, and it would be a fun thing to do together. Problem is that those kinds of things generally need $$$ to do. Ah well.
Aaaalrighty, I am way to tired to continue with this. There was some family drama, but I'm sure that'll come up later and I'll have a chance to talk about it another time.
Peace it.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Friday, May 14, 2010
The Future Soon, and Recipes
So, today I was thinking more and more about culinary school. I've just been cooking a lot recently, and it reminded me of how much I love it. But would I actually like a career?
Talking to Karina, she asked what I was doing about school. I said I had noooo idea at the moment, and she mentioned the VCC Culinary Arts Program. I have to say, it looks pretty good, and not ridiculously expensive. The tuition comes up to just under $5000, which is a savable amount. And the program actually sounds cool! I'm just looking at the courses now. Term 1 is boring beginner stuff, like Basic Kitchen Skills, Hot and Cold Breakfast Cooking, Sandwich Prep, Kitchen Management and Healthcare, etc. But then you get into the cool stuff, like Stock, Soup and Sauce Cooking, and in Term 2, Alcoholic Beverage Service and Appetizers and Hors d'oeuvres! Doesn't that sounds insanely exciting?!
Okay, better not get too excited. I always get really into a a career idea, before I actually know if that's what I want. It kind of worries me that this is so far from what I originally wanted to do (writing). But why couldn't I cook and write at the same time?
I'm also wondering about what other courses I'd have to take if I wanted to start my own business. See, if I do go into food, I'd really love to do catering. It seems like a much less low stress environment. Like, you sit down with the client, they tell you what they want, you make a menu, and cook it all beforehand, whereas in a restaurant, it's like "Cook this and this and this and this, RIGHT NOW."
It is exciting though, because this is something I could actually see myself doing. When I thought about teaching, it never quite felt right. I didn't get as excited about it. I thought it was just something I had to do.
Oh god, if I become a chef, I'm going to get so fat.
So today is my little sister's 18th birthday. It's so cute that my siblings are growing up. God, I remember when they were just little little. For her present, I am paying for the tattoo she's getting (at 5 pm today). It's very simple. It just the word 'love' in handwriting on her wrist. I think it's very cute. I'm kind of bummed that she beat me to the tattoo-punch though.
Mmm, speaking of punch, the wedding shower. AMAZING SUCCESS. Everything was delicious, from the drink to the dessert, and all the guests had a great time. As for the food, we had the spicy lamb meatballs, our signature shrimp quiche, smoked salmon canapes, deviled eggs and... actually, that's it. We nixed the bulgar nicoisse, just because it didn't really fit in with the finger food theme.
For drinks, I made sangria (another family signature), and punch. The punch was a mix of pomegranate juice, white grape and peach juice, and this amazing blood orange pop that I am in love with. It tastes a lot like Red Tangerine Fanta, but minus the bazillion cups of sugar.
And in case you're interested, here is the recipe for our delicious Sangria:
1 bottle red wine
1/8 cup brandy
1/4 orange juice
1/4 cup lemon juice
1/2 cup soda water
We actually ended up doubling this recipe for one jug, and I added a little more orange juice than was called for, because I like it tasting a little less winey. The punch was just as delicious though, so I had a lot of that.
And the Spicy Lamb Meatballs. I seriously cannot get enough of them. Okay, okay, I'll tell you the recipe:
1/2 lb ground lamd
1 egg
3 green onion, chopped
2 tbsp bread crumbs
1 tsp each of curry, cinnamon and corriander
2 tbsp each of pine nuts and currants
2 tbsp harissa sauce (can be substituted with hot sauce of your choice)
Then just fry 'em up in a pan of oil. I used grapeseed oil, because it has a very neutral flavour (don't have grapeseed oil? Try using canola oil instead), and a high heat tolerance. Now, I doubled this recipe, and it gave me about... man, I didn't count. 3 dozen meatballs, maybe? There were a lot. I didn't make them very big either, just bite sized. They didn't end up as spicy as I would have liked, but still amazing. having the currants in them was lovely. You'd get these little bursts of sweetness in your mouth.And then, you can't have the meatballs without the very delicious Mint Yogurt sauce:
1/2 cup plain yogurt
2 tbsp lime juice
1 tsp sugar
fresh mint leaves, chopped
Again, doubled this recipe because there were a lot of people. But it was really, really good. Man, wish I had some more.
Oh dear, am I going to have to start a blog just for cooking? That'll make 4 blogs that I have, although the other two are pretty dormant now. Shame.
Anyway, that is enough chatter for now. I keep staying up way too late, and then sleeping in forever.
Peace it. I hope you try the recipes!
Talking to Karina, she asked what I was doing about school. I said I had noooo idea at the moment, and she mentioned the VCC Culinary Arts Program. I have to say, it looks pretty good, and not ridiculously expensive. The tuition comes up to just under $5000, which is a savable amount. And the program actually sounds cool! I'm just looking at the courses now. Term 1 is boring beginner stuff, like Basic Kitchen Skills, Hot and Cold Breakfast Cooking, Sandwich Prep, Kitchen Management and Healthcare, etc. But then you get into the cool stuff, like Stock, Soup and Sauce Cooking, and in Term 2, Alcoholic Beverage Service and Appetizers and Hors d'oeuvres! Doesn't that sounds insanely exciting?!
Okay, better not get too excited. I always get really into a a career idea, before I actually know if that's what I want. It kind of worries me that this is so far from what I originally wanted to do (writing). But why couldn't I cook and write at the same time?
I'm also wondering about what other courses I'd have to take if I wanted to start my own business. See, if I do go into food, I'd really love to do catering. It seems like a much less low stress environment. Like, you sit down with the client, they tell you what they want, you make a menu, and cook it all beforehand, whereas in a restaurant, it's like "Cook this and this and this and this, RIGHT NOW."
It is exciting though, because this is something I could actually see myself doing. When I thought about teaching, it never quite felt right. I didn't get as excited about it. I thought it was just something I had to do.
Oh god, if I become a chef, I'm going to get so fat.
So today is my little sister's 18th birthday. It's so cute that my siblings are growing up. God, I remember when they were just little little. For her present, I am paying for the tattoo she's getting (at 5 pm today). It's very simple. It just the word 'love' in handwriting on her wrist. I think it's very cute. I'm kind of bummed that she beat me to the tattoo-punch though.
Mmm, speaking of punch, the wedding shower. AMAZING SUCCESS. Everything was delicious, from the drink to the dessert, and all the guests had a great time. As for the food, we had the spicy lamb meatballs, our signature shrimp quiche, smoked salmon canapes, deviled eggs and... actually, that's it. We nixed the bulgar nicoisse, just because it didn't really fit in with the finger food theme.
For drinks, I made sangria (another family signature), and punch. The punch was a mix of pomegranate juice, white grape and peach juice, and this amazing blood orange pop that I am in love with. It tastes a lot like Red Tangerine Fanta, but minus the bazillion cups of sugar.
And in case you're interested, here is the recipe for our delicious Sangria:
1 bottle red wine
1/8 cup brandy
1/4 orange juice
1/4 cup lemon juice
1/2 cup soda water
We actually ended up doubling this recipe for one jug, and I added a little more orange juice than was called for, because I like it tasting a little less winey. The punch was just as delicious though, so I had a lot of that.
And the Spicy Lamb Meatballs. I seriously cannot get enough of them. Okay, okay, I'll tell you the recipe:
1/2 lb ground lamd
1 egg
3 green onion, chopped
2 tbsp bread crumbs
1 tsp each of curry, cinnamon and corriander
2 tbsp each of pine nuts and currants
2 tbsp harissa sauce (can be substituted with hot sauce of your choice)
Then just fry 'em up in a pan of oil. I used grapeseed oil, because it has a very neutral flavour (don't have grapeseed oil? Try using canola oil instead), and a high heat tolerance. Now, I doubled this recipe, and it gave me about... man, I didn't count. 3 dozen meatballs, maybe? There were a lot. I didn't make them very big either, just bite sized. They didn't end up as spicy as I would have liked, but still amazing. having the currants in them was lovely. You'd get these little bursts of sweetness in your mouth.And then, you can't have the meatballs without the very delicious Mint Yogurt sauce:
1/2 cup plain yogurt
2 tbsp lime juice
1 tsp sugar
fresh mint leaves, chopped
Again, doubled this recipe because there were a lot of people. But it was really, really good. Man, wish I had some more.
Oh dear, am I going to have to start a blog just for cooking? That'll make 4 blogs that I have, although the other two are pretty dormant now. Shame.
Anyway, that is enough chatter for now. I keep staying up way too late, and then sleeping in forever.
Peace it. I hope you try the recipes!
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Old Lady Stories
I did not grow up with old people around me, since my grandparents died when I was very young. So now I find that I am incredibly awkward around the elderly. Like, what do we talk about? I'm from Generation Internet, they had WWII. Every time I'm forced to talk to one of them, I get all anxious and try to get out of it as quickly as possible. When I see a super old person hobbling down the street, all I can think is "zombies".
In my neighbourhood, there is an old folks home, and... old people apartments? I don't know what you call them. They're apartments for those old people that can still take care of themselves. Anyways, I was waiting for my bus to work on Monday, when an old lady asked me if I knew when the bus was showing up. I did, and I told her it would be here in 8 minutes. She commented on how chilly it was, and I agreed. She said it was so windy that she had to wear a hat, because her hair was so thin it would just fly away. I said I had the opposite problem (I have very thick, curly hair) and she said "Oh, you're just like my granddaughter. She spends a fortune on hair products, when she's in college and should be saving for school! Are you in school?" I said I wasn't because I couldn't figure out what I wanted to do.
And then she proceeded to tell me her entire life story.
But you know what? I didn't mind, because her life was totally cool. She was in nursing, but was disgusted with how they wanted them to cover up for the crooked doctors. "They wanted me to testify for a doctor at a trial, but I wouldn't lie, so I quit!" I was like Holy shit, this is awesome.
Then she became a fashion writer, and wrote about fashion, I guess. She worked for some brilliant guy who was head of Mensa, but then quit working for him because he was an asshole who didn't know how to deal with people (honestly, I started zoning out a little bit here). Then she married some Norwegian architect who won the Governor Generals Award, and was a contributing writer for The Province, and wrote super controversial pieces.
And her name is Betty, like my own grandmother that I never met. She's about the same age as my grandma would have been too.
So yeah, just thought that was neat. Anyway, it is LATE now, and I need to get some beauty sleep for the wedding shower tomorrow. Just had to tell that story before I forgot.
Peace it.
In my neighbourhood, there is an old folks home, and... old people apartments? I don't know what you call them. They're apartments for those old people that can still take care of themselves. Anyways, I was waiting for my bus to work on Monday, when an old lady asked me if I knew when the bus was showing up. I did, and I told her it would be here in 8 minutes. She commented on how chilly it was, and I agreed. She said it was so windy that she had to wear a hat, because her hair was so thin it would just fly away. I said I had the opposite problem (I have very thick, curly hair) and she said "Oh, you're just like my granddaughter. She spends a fortune on hair products, when she's in college and should be saving for school! Are you in school?" I said I wasn't because I couldn't figure out what I wanted to do.
And then she proceeded to tell me her entire life story.
But you know what? I didn't mind, because her life was totally cool. She was in nursing, but was disgusted with how they wanted them to cover up for the crooked doctors. "They wanted me to testify for a doctor at a trial, but I wouldn't lie, so I quit!" I was like Holy shit, this is awesome.
Then she became a fashion writer, and wrote about fashion, I guess. She worked for some brilliant guy who was head of Mensa, but then quit working for him because he was an asshole who didn't know how to deal with people (honestly, I started zoning out a little bit here). Then she married some Norwegian architect who won the Governor Generals Award, and was a contributing writer for The Province, and wrote super controversial pieces.
And her name is Betty, like my own grandmother that I never met. She's about the same age as my grandma would have been too.
So yeah, just thought that was neat. Anyway, it is LATE now, and I need to get some beauty sleep for the wedding shower tomorrow. Just had to tell that story before I forgot.
Peace it.
Monday, May 10, 2010
Dreams and Busyness
Ever have those dreams that just go on and on forever? Like you're watching some insane movie instead of dreaming?
Last night was one of those cool ones. There were vampires vs, werewolves, me ranting in a mall with an audience, fast cars and mean dogs, and I can't remember what else.
Okay, so the vampires vs. werewolves part was very cool. There were insane fight scenes. There was one boy (a werewolf) telling me how his mother (also a werewolf) was killed by a vampire. And then I saw it. She was jumping out of a window, all the way across this thousand foot void, to another building. As she's in mid air, the vampire (who's looking out the window on the opposite building) picks up a huge chest of drawers and hurtles it at her. The momentum carries her all the way back to the bulding she jumped from, smashing a huge hole in the side and kills her. Her son, the narrator, is only like, 5 years old at the time, and is just sitting beside her huge, mangled wolf corpse as the authorities come to check everything out. It was fuuuucked, but so cool.
As for the mall, some guy tried to pick me up, and I shot him down (rather wittily, I might add). Then this chola tries to talk to me about how I was a bitch for turning him down. We were in front of one of those Orange Julius/Dairy Queen hyrbids, and then I gave this amazing (and hypocritical, I just realized) speech about how you should never judge people by their outward appearances, skin colour, etc. And like, I had the entire food court captivated. I don't even remember what the hell I was talking about, and dream me kept stuttering as she talked (oh, how realistic). It was actually a really cool speech, if only I could remember it. And I was like, acting everything out. It was pretty cool.
The webcomic business is going slooowly. I'm too busy to draw right now, although I have gotten the whole prologue sketched, and some of the first chapter. I know I'll pick it up again after this week.
May 11th - decorating and cooking for the wedding shower
May 12th - Wedding Shower
May 13th - Not quite sure actually, but I know there was something
May 14th - Rachels 18th birthday
May 15th - Wedding
And no work on all of those days :(
Last night was one of those cool ones. There were vampires vs, werewolves, me ranting in a mall with an audience, fast cars and mean dogs, and I can't remember what else.
Okay, so the vampires vs. werewolves part was very cool. There were insane fight scenes. There was one boy (a werewolf) telling me how his mother (also a werewolf) was killed by a vampire. And then I saw it. She was jumping out of a window, all the way across this thousand foot void, to another building. As she's in mid air, the vampire (who's looking out the window on the opposite building) picks up a huge chest of drawers and hurtles it at her. The momentum carries her all the way back to the bulding she jumped from, smashing a huge hole in the side and kills her. Her son, the narrator, is only like, 5 years old at the time, and is just sitting beside her huge, mangled wolf corpse as the authorities come to check everything out. It was fuuuucked, but so cool.
As for the mall, some guy tried to pick me up, and I shot him down (rather wittily, I might add). Then this chola tries to talk to me about how I was a bitch for turning him down. We were in front of one of those Orange Julius/Dairy Queen hyrbids, and then I gave this amazing (and hypocritical, I just realized) speech about how you should never judge people by their outward appearances, skin colour, etc. And like, I had the entire food court captivated. I don't even remember what the hell I was talking about, and dream me kept stuttering as she talked (oh, how realistic). It was actually a really cool speech, if only I could remember it. And I was like, acting everything out. It was pretty cool.
The webcomic business is going slooowly. I'm too busy to draw right now, although I have gotten the whole prologue sketched, and some of the first chapter. I know I'll pick it up again after this week.
May 11th - decorating and cooking for the wedding shower
May 12th - Wedding Shower
May 13th - Not quite sure actually, but I know there was something
May 14th - Rachels 18th birthday
May 15th - Wedding
And no work on all of those days :(
Saturday, May 8, 2010
Genetic Markers and Bridal Showers
Can't sleep.
I tried to go to sleep about 2 and a half hours ago, and that didn't work. I don't know how I'm so awake now. Well, I wasn't overly tired to start out with. Rachel came home with her friends, and then they all decided to pack into our room. This one girl, I don't know her name, but she is unattractive and loud. I can't imagine why Rachel is friends with her.
Woke up, watched food shows with my mum, then talked science and existentialism with Peter and his friend, who sounds exactly like him. Is that a thing? Do 15 year old boys just all sound the same?
Anyway, my mum was apparently talking to one of the lawyers she works for, and they're working on a case about some botched birth by a doctor or something, how the umbilical cord got wrapped around the kids throat and now he's mentally impaired or something. Anyway, the lawyer had to talk to some top notch neuroscientist, and the neuroscientist said that apparently, since they've started mapping our DNA, they found these markers. Like, markers in our genetic sequence. Apparently, there are 'cancer markers' and certain things in life can switch these markers on, thus giving their bearer cancer. Like, Person A and Person B can both have cancer markers. But Person A never got cancer, while Person B did, and Person B only got cancer because something in his environment turned it on. Like, apparently things like, having a rough childhood, or people being mean to you for 2 years straight in high school. Now, obviously not everyone is going to get cancer after someone calls them a bad name or whatever, but that's the basic idea of it. And, this is going to be huge for people like the lawyer my mum works for.
Say there's a custody case. The father of the child is cold and unfeeling, but well-off, stable job, able to provide, etc. The mother is in less of a favourable position, but is warm and kind and loving. They're saying that with this knowledge of 'cancer markers' (and it's not only cancer, there are other kinds of markers too) the mothers lawyer can say "We can't send this child with his father because he is a horrible bastard." and the judge will say "Of course, you're right." This neuroscientist said that in 20 years time, this will be quite common knowledge. I love it. The future is going to be awesome.
Does that mean someone will finally make a kind of parenting handbook? I mean, there are a million out there already. My mother (and probably her mother before her) raised my siblings and I on this Dr. Gerber Baby Book. It was the baby book in our house. But I mean, maybe someone will finally make a standard issue "Guide to Babies" or something. It'll have this genetic marker stuff in it, and, shit, maybe they'll even start testing people before they have babies. I mean, I know that sounds like some kind of pyscho, over-controlling government thing, where they can control the population or whatever. But think about it. Think about all those fuck-ups you've seen, in real life and on TV, with children, and how you know that kids going to end up just as fucked up. Maybe they'll finally eradicate that shit.
Man, I got all excited about food today (again). A girl at work asked why I'm not going to culinary school. Honestly, I would LOVE to have the chance to learn more about cooking, but I don't feel like I have any interest in cooking in, say, a restaurant. I like cooking for my friends and family, and I like cooking for myself. And really, I don't think I could stand the high stress environment. I'm neurotic enough as it is.
But yeah. Jenny's wedding shower is on the 12th, and we're going to make SUCH delicious food. Here's what's on the menu:
It's going to be so fun. We have some games, we're going to decorate, we got Jenny some darling presents (hint: the theme of the party is 'lingerie'. My mums idea), and I bought an adorable dress at Urban Behaviour the other day that I'm going to wear.
Fack, I still need to buy a pair of shoes to go with my dress for the wedding. I bought this awesome vintage hat the other day from some retro store downtown, and an old faux pearl necklace that is too cute. The dress is champagne coloured, and the hat is sort of golden. So I need like-coloured shoes. But with size 11 feet, a seemingly simple task like this turns into a terrible shoe man-hunt. Not a lot of stores cater to us bigfoot gals.
Now it's bed time for real, and just in time too. I think I'm getting Carpal Tunnel in my arm from typing too much.
Listening to: Brand New Colony - The Postal Service
Peace it.
I tried to go to sleep about 2 and a half hours ago, and that didn't work. I don't know how I'm so awake now. Well, I wasn't overly tired to start out with. Rachel came home with her friends, and then they all decided to pack into our room. This one girl, I don't know her name, but she is unattractive and loud. I can't imagine why Rachel is friends with her.
Woke up, watched food shows with my mum, then talked science and existentialism with Peter and his friend, who sounds exactly like him. Is that a thing? Do 15 year old boys just all sound the same?
Anyway, my mum was apparently talking to one of the lawyers she works for, and they're working on a case about some botched birth by a doctor or something, how the umbilical cord got wrapped around the kids throat and now he's mentally impaired or something. Anyway, the lawyer had to talk to some top notch neuroscientist, and the neuroscientist said that apparently, since they've started mapping our DNA, they found these markers. Like, markers in our genetic sequence. Apparently, there are 'cancer markers' and certain things in life can switch these markers on, thus giving their bearer cancer. Like, Person A and Person B can both have cancer markers. But Person A never got cancer, while Person B did, and Person B only got cancer because something in his environment turned it on. Like, apparently things like, having a rough childhood, or people being mean to you for 2 years straight in high school. Now, obviously not everyone is going to get cancer after someone calls them a bad name or whatever, but that's the basic idea of it. And, this is going to be huge for people like the lawyer my mum works for.
Say there's a custody case. The father of the child is cold and unfeeling, but well-off, stable job, able to provide, etc. The mother is in less of a favourable position, but is warm and kind and loving. They're saying that with this knowledge of 'cancer markers' (and it's not only cancer, there are other kinds of markers too) the mothers lawyer can say "We can't send this child with his father because he is a horrible bastard." and the judge will say "Of course, you're right." This neuroscientist said that in 20 years time, this will be quite common knowledge. I love it. The future is going to be awesome.
Does that mean someone will finally make a kind of parenting handbook? I mean, there are a million out there already. My mother (and probably her mother before her) raised my siblings and I on this Dr. Gerber Baby Book. It was the baby book in our house. But I mean, maybe someone will finally make a standard issue "Guide to Babies" or something. It'll have this genetic marker stuff in it, and, shit, maybe they'll even start testing people before they have babies. I mean, I know that sounds like some kind of pyscho, over-controlling government thing, where they can control the population or whatever. But think about it. Think about all those fuck-ups you've seen, in real life and on TV, with children, and how you know that kids going to end up just as fucked up. Maybe they'll finally eradicate that shit.
Man, I got all excited about food today (again). A girl at work asked why I'm not going to culinary school. Honestly, I would LOVE to have the chance to learn more about cooking, but I don't feel like I have any interest in cooking in, say, a restaurant. I like cooking for my friends and family, and I like cooking for myself. And really, I don't think I could stand the high stress environment. I'm neurotic enough as it is.
But yeah. Jenny's wedding shower is on the 12th, and we're going to make SUCH delicious food. Here's what's on the menu:
- spicy lamb meatballs, with mint yogurt sauce
- our signature shrimp and broccoli mini-quiches
- bulgar nicoisse
- smoked salmon canapes, with dill cream cheese
It's going to be so fun. We have some games, we're going to decorate, we got Jenny some darling presents (hint: the theme of the party is 'lingerie'. My mums idea), and I bought an adorable dress at Urban Behaviour the other day that I'm going to wear.
Fack, I still need to buy a pair of shoes to go with my dress for the wedding. I bought this awesome vintage hat the other day from some retro store downtown, and an old faux pearl necklace that is too cute. The dress is champagne coloured, and the hat is sort of golden. So I need like-coloured shoes. But with size 11 feet, a seemingly simple task like this turns into a terrible shoe man-hunt. Not a lot of stores cater to us bigfoot gals.
Now it's bed time for real, and just in time too. I think I'm getting Carpal Tunnel in my arm from typing too much.
Listening to: Brand New Colony - The Postal Service
Peace it.
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Hippies, Hippies Are Stupid, STFU Hippies, Etc
Point is, hippies are stupid.
I noticed one of my friends on Facebook has a photo album of demotivational posters. Always up for a larf, I browsed. When I came across this:
Clearly hilarious, amirite?
So I chortled to myself, and then looked at the comments. I was greeted with hippie drivel.
"thats not very funny :("
"its clever. and shocking. it rendered me speechless."
"holy shit. who could ever do something like that?"
"thats so cruel."
I replied (to 'who could ever do something like that?'): "People trying to make money to feed their families, I guess."
Yes, I will admit it. I am not against the clubbing of baby seals. Yes, they smash their soft little head open with clubs. Tough shit, baby seals. Maybe you should have become the dominant species instead of us, and then you could club our young instead. But you didn't.
Okay, baby seals are cute as hell. But get this: they are animals. And hey, we used to kill animals in this exact same way a couple thousand years ago. Now, I know everyone is a little sensitive to killing animals, but you guys are pussies. You don't seem to have an issue with eating dead animals bought from the store. Do you know how horribly they treat cows? And chickens, pigs, calfs, etc. The people clubbing these seals aren't waking up and saying "You know, I think I'm going to go kill some baby animals today." They're making money to feed themselves, and feed their families. And I don't know about you, but being able to pay bills and buy food is pretty fucking dandy.
Also, another question has been plaguing me. Would people even give a fuck if it was something less adorable? How about komodo dragons, even baby komodo dragons? What about alligators? Or fucking sharks? Would anyone care?
And Paul McCartney. Made a huge fuss about it, protesting it and everything, but really. What the fuuuck do you know, Paul? You have like, millions of dollars. You have whatever you want. These people have to do this for their livelihood. I'm pretty sure I would do anything if I was poor and had a family to look after.
Eh, I was going to write something about how terrible high school was, and how my mum is sad that I didn't enjoy it (also, a hilarious anecdote), but I am literally too sick and tired, so peace out.
I noticed one of my friends on Facebook has a photo album of demotivational posters. Always up for a larf, I browsed. When I came across this:
Clearly hilarious, amirite?
So I chortled to myself, and then looked at the comments. I was greeted with hippie drivel.
"thats not very funny :("
"its clever. and shocking. it rendered me speechless."
"holy shit. who could ever do something like that?"
"thats so cruel."
I replied (to 'who could ever do something like that?'): "People trying to make money to feed their families, I guess."
Yes, I will admit it. I am not against the clubbing of baby seals. Yes, they smash their soft little head open with clubs. Tough shit, baby seals. Maybe you should have become the dominant species instead of us, and then you could club our young instead. But you didn't.
Okay, baby seals are cute as hell. But get this: they are animals. And hey, we used to kill animals in this exact same way a couple thousand years ago. Now, I know everyone is a little sensitive to killing animals, but you guys are pussies. You don't seem to have an issue with eating dead animals bought from the store. Do you know how horribly they treat cows? And chickens, pigs, calfs, etc. The people clubbing these seals aren't waking up and saying "You know, I think I'm going to go kill some baby animals today." They're making money to feed themselves, and feed their families. And I don't know about you, but being able to pay bills and buy food is pretty fucking dandy.
Also, another question has been plaguing me. Would people even give a fuck if it was something less adorable? How about komodo dragons, even baby komodo dragons? What about alligators? Or fucking sharks? Would anyone care?
And Paul McCartney. Made a huge fuss about it, protesting it and everything, but really. What the fuuuck do you know, Paul? You have like, millions of dollars. You have whatever you want. These people have to do this for their livelihood. I'm pretty sure I would do anything if I was poor and had a family to look after.
Eh, I was going to write something about how terrible high school was, and how my mum is sad that I didn't enjoy it (also, a hilarious anecdote), but I am literally too sick and tired, so peace out.
Monday, May 3, 2010
Hobophobia
To start off with, here is the funniest thing I have ever read.
Hobophobia: The 5 Vagrants Who Ruined My Psyche
Towards the end, I was actually crying from laughing so hard. It felt awesome, I haven't laugh like that for awhile. But seriously. This article is one of the greatest things ever. Ian Fortey is now one of my top favourite Cracked columnists. He also made this, which is hilarious if you're up on your columnists.
(click for full view)
I too, have had my own share of mind scarring hobo-incidents. One time, on a band trip to San Fransisco, a group of friends, my mother (a chaperon), the kind-of-cute assisstant band teacher and myself were enjoying some pizza in a local park, watching a wedding take place at the church across the road, when we were accosted by a very drunk, very disgusting homeless man. He made some remarks about how nice it was to see families enjoying a nice day in the park (???), and honestly I don't remember what else. He was standing far too close to me and my anxiety levels were off the chart. Anyway, he at one point proposed that he sing us a song. We all tried to politely decline, but then Dumbfuck the Wonder Tool, also known as the assisstant band teacher, told him, Sure, why the fuck not. Yes, he ceased being kind-of-cute to me.
So we were treated to a badly butchered rendition of some Santana song or other, and honestly, to this very day, I cannot hear Santana without thinking of this homeless man from San Fransisco. At one point, he ripped his jacket open, and I was sure that he was going to pull out a knife and stab me to death. My friend Amanda was much amused, but all I could think about was that this would be the most embarrassing death ever.
Anyway, he finished his song, awkwardly bowed, and then Dumbfuck the Wonder Tool gave him 10 fucking cents. Now, I'm not a homeless person, but even I understand that that's a fucking slap in the face. So, Homeless Santana (loudly) protested, yelling that this was "chump change" and that he could make "a hundred bucks" and that he "sings at weddings". Maybe hobo dumpster weddings for washed up prostitutes and Rat Kings, but that's still a wedding. So DtWT starts to yell back (yes, really). Santana challenges him to a duel, shouting "You wanna fight, bitch? You wanna go?" And honestly, DtWT is raring to go, when suddenly some football playing frat boy shouts, "Hey Santana, catch!" and tosses him the ol' pigskin. Santana gracefully extends his arm and catches it, and then runs off to join the game. Frat Boy smiles at me, and I weakly smile back, and then continue on the plagued with hobophobia for the rest of my life. The whole way home from San Fransisco, I thought Santana was following us. I had a dream that he'd found me. Yes, I am that crazy.
So, there's my story for the day. I'm doing okay. Feeling better (mentally) but I'm actually terribly ill right now. It's awful. I hate sleeping when I'm this sick. I mean, I want to sleep, because my body is tired, but the actual act of sleeping when you're sick is hell. For one thing, my sinuses are so stuffed up, that having my head in any position but upright is incredibly uncomfortable. Then you get too hot, and your head hurts, and you have to breath through your mouth thus causing you to be thirsty, AND no matter which direction you put your head, your nose will run. Ew.
Also, drugs have ceased to take effect on me. Today I have had 2 Dayquil pills, 2 tylenols and 1 T3. All of them failed to take effect. Actually, hold that thought, the T3 might be what is making me so woozy. Or that might just be my good old fashioned cold.
Every time I say "old fashioned" I think of the Old Fashioned Ham from the deli at work.
PS. Still sketching for my webcomic. I'm having fun with it, but am starting to worry about the "web" part. I seriously don't know shit about that computer type nonsense.
What else... My cousins wedding is coming up and we're hosting to Bridal Shower at my house on the 12th, so I need to start thinking of a menu. Bought an ADORABLE dress for it, aaaaand the illness made me forget what else I was going to say.
Peace it.
Hobophobia: The 5 Vagrants Who Ruined My Psyche
Towards the end, I was actually crying from laughing so hard. It felt awesome, I haven't laugh like that for awhile. But seriously. This article is one of the greatest things ever. Ian Fortey is now one of my top favourite Cracked columnists. He also made this, which is hilarious if you're up on your columnists.
(click for full view)
I too, have had my own share of mind scarring hobo-incidents. One time, on a band trip to San Fransisco, a group of friends, my mother (a chaperon), the kind-of-cute assisstant band teacher and myself were enjoying some pizza in a local park, watching a wedding take place at the church across the road, when we were accosted by a very drunk, very disgusting homeless man. He made some remarks about how nice it was to see families enjoying a nice day in the park (???), and honestly I don't remember what else. He was standing far too close to me and my anxiety levels were off the chart. Anyway, he at one point proposed that he sing us a song. We all tried to politely decline, but then Dumbfuck the Wonder Tool, also known as the assisstant band teacher, told him, Sure, why the fuck not. Yes, he ceased being kind-of-cute to me.
So we were treated to a badly butchered rendition of some Santana song or other, and honestly, to this very day, I cannot hear Santana without thinking of this homeless man from San Fransisco. At one point, he ripped his jacket open, and I was sure that he was going to pull out a knife and stab me to death. My friend Amanda was much amused, but all I could think about was that this would be the most embarrassing death ever.
Anyway, he finished his song, awkwardly bowed, and then Dumbfuck the Wonder Tool gave him 10 fucking cents. Now, I'm not a homeless person, but even I understand that that's a fucking slap in the face. So, Homeless Santana (loudly) protested, yelling that this was "chump change" and that he could make "a hundred bucks" and that he "sings at weddings". Maybe hobo dumpster weddings for washed up prostitutes and Rat Kings, but that's still a wedding. So DtWT starts to yell back (yes, really). Santana challenges him to a duel, shouting "You wanna fight, bitch? You wanna go?" And honestly, DtWT is raring to go, when suddenly some football playing frat boy shouts, "Hey Santana, catch!" and tosses him the ol' pigskin. Santana gracefully extends his arm and catches it, and then runs off to join the game. Frat Boy smiles at me, and I weakly smile back, and then continue on the plagued with hobophobia for the rest of my life. The whole way home from San Fransisco, I thought Santana was following us. I had a dream that he'd found me. Yes, I am that crazy.
So, there's my story for the day. I'm doing okay. Feeling better (mentally) but I'm actually terribly ill right now. It's awful. I hate sleeping when I'm this sick. I mean, I want to sleep, because my body is tired, but the actual act of sleeping when you're sick is hell. For one thing, my sinuses are so stuffed up, that having my head in any position but upright is incredibly uncomfortable. Then you get too hot, and your head hurts, and you have to breath through your mouth thus causing you to be thirsty, AND no matter which direction you put your head, your nose will run. Ew.
Also, drugs have ceased to take effect on me. Today I have had 2 Dayquil pills, 2 tylenols and 1 T3. All of them failed to take effect. Actually, hold that thought, the T3 might be what is making me so woozy. Or that might just be my good old fashioned cold.
Every time I say "old fashioned" I think of the Old Fashioned Ham from the deli at work.
PS. Still sketching for my webcomic. I'm having fun with it, but am starting to worry about the "web" part. I seriously don't know shit about that computer type nonsense.
What else... My cousins wedding is coming up and we're hosting to Bridal Shower at my house on the 12th, so I need to start thinking of a menu. Bought an ADORABLE dress for it, aaaaand the illness made me forget what else I was going to say.
Peace it.
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