So, I've been running the art blog for about a week now, and it's created this weird paradox of motivation wherein the blogging motivates me to paint more, while the painting has motivated me to blog more.. Not only on the new blog, but on this blog as well.
I've been reviewing a lot of my old work, and revising some of it, taking the time to really put care into details and not rush to finish a picture all in one night. There are a lot of pieces I feel like I could have done better had I taken more time. Others are just kind of horrendous to me now, and I'm not sure whether I want to try and fix them or hide them away forever, never to be seen again.
I'm finding myself with the urge to REVISE ALL THE THINGS and go back and touch up old paintings. That's not cheating is it? I mean, if writers can go back and edit old manuscripts, I can go back and use what I've learned (mostly slow the eff down) to fix and improve what I've already created.. That's not a bad thing.. Right?
The current work in progress is one I did some time ago. I reached a point where although I knew it wasn't "done," I had hit a point where I really liked what I had done so far, and was nervous to go any farther lest I manage to fuck up what had been, at the time, a very challenging piece for me.
I've pulled it back out and after much hemming and hawing about whether I really wanted to mess with it, I've gone back in.
It is so worth it. I am really, excruciatingly excited.
I have what some may call irrational and so may call perfectly rational hatred for MDF (also known as chip board) furniture. I have a shit ton of it in my house, but I absolutely loathe it.
Thing is, it's inexpensive and light and usually comes ready to assemble. Ergo, I have a ton of this crap in my house. Book shelves, dressers, desks etc.
But I dream of wood. Real wood furniture. I dream of eventually replacing every piece of cheap, shitty, Walmart/Canadian Tire etc prefab crap with oak, or maple or pine.
A few years ago some friends of mine were moving out-of-country an as such, had divested themselves of most of their furniture. By the time they their going away party, they were down to a coffee table set and a couch, both of which were slated for the dumpster the next day.
It was a few hours into the night that I realized that here was a rather nice wood coffee table set, that was just going to be thrown in the garbage without my intervention. I asked my friends if the would mind if I took it instead and they quite were agreeable to this arrangement.
There was one small catch.
Prior to my "hey, this is some pretty decent shit" revelation, our host had presented the partygoers with a few Sharpies with which to sign their well wishes on the last of the furniture before it made its way to the dumpster.
Do you know happens when you combine an apartment full of revellers and a batch of Sharpie markers?
Penises.
Penises on your new coffee table set.
So many penises. And boobs. And penises with boobs. Some sort of multi-headed penis hydra. And a penis palm-tree.
There was even a Cock Ness Monster. I kid you not.
Nonetheless I was determined. With help, I dismantled and fit the set into my car, then took it home and hid it in the shed away from my children's impressionable view until I could find some time to strip and refinish it.
Three years later, I'm finally getting around to this project of mine, mainly because I dislike my current coffee table and I got tired of hemming and hawing about whether or not I was actually going to get around to refinishing the damned thing.
It's slow going. I started off using a paint/varnish thinner but after multiple chemicals burns and some kind of reaction to my nitrile gloves that caused my hands to heat up and stiffen in an alarming manner, I decided that paint stripper was fucking bullshit and sought out a heat gun, which I was able to borrow from a friend and former co worker.
What a difference. I've only burned myself bad enough to leave a mark once (although I've probably singed off some leg and arm hair with flying paint chips), and the gun goes through the paint and varnish much faster than the paint stripper did.
I am hoping to at least have the whole set stripped, if not sanded, by the end of the summer. But that is what I have been up to.
Last week I had a second colonoscopy, since the first one contained some abnormal cells, I guess? The internal medicine guy I see, who is a vaguely intimidating, yet oddly comforting older Irish-maybe-Scottish dude informed me that after 10 years of being diagnosed with colitis, your chances of getting colon cancer goes up somewhat and as such I should be getting scoped every two years.
Basically, something showed up that the lab and the good doctor were unsure of, so they sent the results down to a specialist in Toronto (this was back in June I believe). The specialist, as well, was stumped. So I got scheduled in for another scope, this time to be biopsied every 10cm of my colon. Hot, right?
On one hand, I'm not gonna lie. I'm a little concerned. Because some thing is not nothing. On the other hand, saying "something showed up on your test and we're not sure what it is" is far from "Holy Shit, look at all that CANCER." So I figured I'd just be a sport and go for the second scope, and take whatever comes with it, and hope it turns out like that Pap test that came back abnormal. I just kept going back until I got a few normal tests and they tell me I don't have to come back in for another year. Easy Peasy, lemon squeezy.
I kind of screwed up and caused myself some extra discomfort during the pre-scope cleanse. I couldn't remember whether or not coffee was allowed, so I erred on the side of not having any. Boy, did I pay for THAT. In the immortal words of Dave Foley "I'm not sure what's in caffeine but I'm pretty sure that without it, your head caves in."
So I did a caffeine free cleanse, so I could have a camera inserted where no camera should ever go and then topped that off with a dental cleaning because I am, ladies and gentlemen, a special class of masochist it would seem. Speaking of masochism, I have agreed to go camping. In October. In a tent. Because that is a good idea?
I jest, I'm sure it will be enjoyable. I'm looking forward to some fall colors in Muskoka with The Well Travelled One.
In other news, I have an opportunity to be an extra in a movie that is being filmed locally. I just need to see about getting a day off.. I'm not entirely sure I have any personal days left. But if I can swing it, I'd like to do it as there are a number of locals also taking part and it sounds like it could be a lot of fun.
Well, that's my brief update. Hopefully with winter approaching I'll at least have a bit more to talk about.
So, I'm not suicidal. In case anyone was wondering. I deactivated my Facebook account last week and the first thing The Well Travelled One warned me was to expect cops to show up, since apparently deleting your Facebook is considered a sign that someone is suicidal. Apparently it's a sign of being a terrorist or weirdo or something too. I have seen news stories to this effect, but am too tired and or lazy to link them.
You know who else didn't have a Facebook account? Hitler.
This actually concerned me a bit since I also took a hiatus from my kick-boxing classes for health related reasons.. It might have looked I really was withdrawing..
"I guess this would be a bad time to start selling my shit on Kajiji, right? Heh."
Anyway, I'm doing fine. Rediscovering methods of communication such as... The phone!! Holy crap. I kind of forgot that I have a pretty spectacular long distance plan.
In other news...
Painting. Renewed my efforts on a piece I started almost two years ago. It's a reproduction of a photo that the Well-Travelled one had taken on one of his adventures. I had left it alone for sometime out of frustration at my inability to paint a straight line.
Masking tape is a grand, grand invention. Except that I lost my masking tape so I had to use invisible tape. You know what sucks about invisible tape?
IT'S FUCKING INVISIBLE.
So that makes for a fabulous time trying to tell where you actually taped and didn't tape.
I'm harbouring a house full of pre- adolescent and adolescent girls. There has been much giggling and much sounds that indicate that the ceiling is probably three seconds from caving in.
It's not so bad though. I can't speak for tomorrow though, as I have been waking up with nasty, possibly sinus related headaches the last few days. Hopefully I will be able to handle the onslaught of girl noise come morning.
So excuse this moment of vapid attention-whoring, but I got new glasses and I want to show them off. On previous trips to purchase eyewear I was torn between lighter or thicker frames. Last week I went in and there was a sale...
So I got both.
That is, indeed, the newly-detesticled asshole cat on the chair behind me.
I'm now tasked with the.. uh.. task of giving him/her/zie a name. I haven't even assigned it a gender.. most of my other guitars I've given guy monikers. This one is a little prettier, a little sexier that I'm inclined to lean towards a more feminine signature.
I'm thinking of naming her after a song name. I've always been a little fascinated by 'name-songs' and always a little jealous of people who have songs with their name in the title. At least, I was jealous until I found out that one of my favorite alt-country (I really can't lump them in with regular country, but they're not *quite rock*) bands, Blue Rodeo had a song called Andrea. It's an odd little tune, sung by Greg Keelor, and sounds like some kind of 'My Drug Buddy' type tune.
Andrea I'm so happy
that you called Just to hear your voice Helped dissolve The paranoia Until the drugs wore off
The name Jolene, after the Dolly Parton tune, is jumping out as a possible option. It's a fairly unique name and seems to match the vibe I get from this particular instrument.
What are your favorite "Name-Songs?" Do you share a name with any songs that you know of?
I wanted to upload a video to christen my new whats-her-face, and was inspired as I wrote this post so here you go. Be warned, I hate seeing myself on video, so I haven't watched this. If it's terrible, you have my sincerest apologies.
Isn't that one awesome thumbnail image? I WILL EAT YOUR SOUL!!! I need a haircut.
In other news, I went to Guelph yesterday with my friend Tess for her birthday. We loaded up the car with all of our respective children and her SO, and went to see A Suessical Musical along with her sister and grandma. Was a very late night as showtime was 6:30 and Guelph is about three hours away from here. The children were extra "F.U.N." (read: Fucking Unbelievable Nightmare) to get up this morning but all in all it was worth it, a fun time for everyone involved.
One last picture. Although most of the time he's kind of a dick, as I have mentioned, occasionally Simon manages to break out the cute.
It's like a kitty-vampire coffin. Kind of. If cats were shaped like guitars.
I don't go around saying it very often, but I'm pretty smart. With the standardized tests to prove it. So it's frustrating when there's something I really want to master but I JUST. CAN'T. FACKING. DO IT.
For a long time now, I've wanted to learn to sew. I can do simple things like hemming pants or repair a split seam, but I really want to learn to design and create things. Thing is, sewing by hand is slow and bullshit.
I have a sewing machine that was given to me by my mother, which was given to her in turn by her mother which was bought as a gift by my grandfather and has been used maybe 8 times in total.
This would be the monstrosity right here.
My Nanny wasn't much of a seamstress and my mother always preferred to used the old Singer that was given to her by.. oh.. hrm. Some female relation or another. I think it was my great grandmothers. Anyway, she likes to use that one (probably because unlike this one, it doesn't have a whole table attached to it).
Sewing machines elude me. My mother was still making my halloween costumes when I was 24 because I would get this lofty idea that I would sew my own costume, I'd borrow her Singer, sit down in front of it and promptly forget the method for setting up the machine, despite Mom having shown me 47,000 times before. Gord forbid I'd have to change a bobbin. Forget it, not happening. I'd get all flustered and it wouldn't be long before Mom was sewing my costume for me.
Pathetic.
So when I got this one, I had every intention of learning to use it. I took it out on one or two occasions and would do a few test runs. My first attempt resulted in this:
That was enough to scare me off for oh say... a good year and a half. Meanwhile though, I kept hanging on to old T-shirts with dreams of making them into pillows and quilts and such. Today I braved the machine again. I threaded it, got the bobbin set up with the help of the 50 year old instruction booklet and much to my delight I managed to mend a couch cushion and two of the girls shirts.
I was on a roll. I went into town that afternoon and excitedly told my friend Lori about how I had braved the sewing machine and that I was going to learn to make shit, starting slow with simple things like pillows.
I guess I got too big for my britches because tonight I cut up some fabric and pinned it and set to work. I decided to try the zig-zag setting, but for some reason everything kept getting tangled, so I played with some settings and tried to adjust the tension.
I fucking broke it.
I have barely touched this thing over the last 2 years because of my intense fear that I would somehow break it and would end up with a very heavy side table. I broke the goddamned tension dial. As I was turning it, the dial popped off and springs went flying everywhere.
And I don't know how to put it back together.
You said it, Natalie Dee.
I'm not dealing well. I'm not good at feeling stupid and this epic failure on my part is way more upsetting than it should be.
*sigh* Faaaaack. Anyone have any expertise on how to fix a 50-year-old sewing machine?
Started on my yard work today after a miscommunication resulted in my afternoon opening up. A whack of smaller trees on the back of the property fell down so Reegs and I spent an hour or so dragging the broken limbs over to the fire pit. Unfortunately, some of the fallen branches are too thick for me to break down into smaller chunks by hand, so I'll need to chop them. Right now my rusty little hatchet is about as threatening as a Nerf bat.
I also managed to fashion a working leaf rake out of the two leaf rakes that got broken last fall, due to neglect. So I'm a handy-freakin' woman. I've also managed to make banana muffins, a big batch of spaghetti sauce and completed a backdrop for Tee's play for school. They're doing 50 Below Zero, based on the book by Robert Munsch and needed a background for the outdoor scene. Since I'm pretty sucky on that whole 'volunteer-parent' thing, I thought "Hey, this is somewhere I can contribute!"
I don't mind saying, I'm pretty pleased with how it turned out.
So the moral of the story, I should let the kids have friends over more often, because when they're occupied, I get shit DONE.
I welcomed back clothesline season by doing about six thousand loads of laundry. Two weeks worth of clothes, plus two loads of sheets and a couple of comforters. I've even got lunches ready to go for tomorrow. I have to call the insurance company tomorrow to see what the freakin' deal is with my car, because it's been over two weeks and I'm still driving the rental around.
Unexpected visit from the most recent ex, who was in the area visiting friends. It was.. pleasant. I dunno, for the first time since everything really went to shit, I felt like we might actually be able to maintain a friendship.. one that doesn't fuck with me emotionally but rather one where we really are just friends, nothing else.
I recently came to the conclusion that my blog suffers a bit of an identity crisis as it does not know whether it wants to be a humour blog, a feminist blog, a mommy blog, a music blog, a creative writing/poetry blog or what. I'm pretty all over the place. But if others want to call that 'versatile' well who am I to correct them, right? So thanks Bruce!
The Rules:
7 randoms about me. These get harder to come up with. I've also found this in conversation.. being prevalent on the interwebs means I have no material for face-to-face conversations and small talk.
"Did I tell you I...?" "Yeah, you blogged/posted on Facebook/tweeted about it last week."
Hoo boy. Random facts.
I think Crocs are great for kids but grown-ups who wear them should be throat-punched.
I will use a men's washroom (single-occupancy) if no women's washroom is available, because I refuse to let my bladder be a slave to social condition.
About 85% of the women on my mothers side look exactly alike or with variations on the same theme. You could make a template out of us.
My favourite book is Hugh MacLennan's The Watch That Ends the Night. I read it after seeing an interview with The Tragically Hip where they said that the third verse for the song Courage was basically ripped from that book.
I once named a cat Chino Moreno, after the singer for the Deftones
Sorry folks, five is all you get. I'm going to hold off on passing this on too, because I'm tired and I get all worried that A) I'm going to insult someone by leaving them out or B) I may pass this on to someone who is not prepared to take on the awesome responsibility of blog award recipiency.
Taking a page from Lance over at My Blog Can Beat Up Your Blog, I'll leave all y'all with a little tune. This is a live version of Courage, because I can only get the official video through that stupid Vevo thing that tacks a friggin' 40 second commercial at the beginning. Besides, watching Gord Downie perform live is usually a thing of beauty.
"You look like a wallet in the street. You look that good."
crafting is good for the stress levels so I thought I'd share some of the stuff I've completed lately.
But first!!
Guess what came in the mail today? I won a blog challenge a week or so ago over a it's never too late to save a hopeless case and today I received, care of one ms. steph gas, this lovely tote bag from her store Rule 42 Inc. You should go check it out, especially the custom t-shirt bags that I would love to make myself if I wasn't ridiculously intimidated by my sewing machine. Seriously, it scares the shit out of me.
sexy, no?
I'm pretty stoked that she also addressed me the package with my full name and title, as requested:
click to enlarge. my thumb is covering my address to prevent stalkers.
In the meantime I've been working on some fun stuff and in honor of the half-assed weekend post, I'll share:
This is a mirror that my friend gave me that had been kicking around her basement for the last four to five years. It was originally a plain blond wood mirror. I sanded the frame down and painted it with a bright red acrylic, then decided to do the inside perimeter in black. I had inteded to do the entire frame red. Then I used an enamel glass paint to do the zebra stripes in the corners.
It was pretty time-consuming, and I had to do it twice since the first time I used a brush-on varnish instead of a glaze (turns out there's a difference.. who knew? I know, everyone but me.) The varnish peeled half of the paint off. I guess it hadn't quite settled. So I had to scrub it all off and try again.
The second time around I used a spray-glaze that claimed to dry 'crystal-clear' so I just kind of sprayed the whole thing in this stuff and much to my chagrin, this resulted in a nice frosted-glass mirror that wasn't of much to anyone who actually wanted to, oh, I don't know.. look at themselves. Out came the Windex and before it dried too much I managed to scrub most of the glaze off the reflected surface. There's still a bit of a sheen from it though.
Next:
This is the completed frame that I had mentioned doing a few weeks back. Finding a plain frame was a pain in the ass. I searched the salvation army and finally tried the Dollar stores, as usually they have plain frames in the arts and crafts section. No luck though, couldn't find them. So this is kind of a cheap dollar store plastic frame painted red, with black on the interior rim, and polka dots.
I still don't know the photographers name. I'm thinking my dad might know.
Update: So I was at the gas station the other day and I saw the guy who took the Betty Boop photo and remembering this entry and my earlier one, I ran up and asked him his name again for the sake of being able to properly credit him for his work. His name is Corey Ramsbottom and he does a lot of scenic and landscape photography. Check out his website here.
This one I'm pretty proud of:
Once again, dollar store frame which I happened to find while searching for the frame above, plus paint, and podge, and comic book leavings. I love the way it turned out and I'm thinking of going back for a few more of these frames, because I'd love to make more of these.
A few weeks ago Facebook had a meme going around where you take the first five people on your friends sidebar (no refreshing!) and they become your team for the Zombie Apocalypse. I got three of my best friends and two co-workers, whom I happen to like and respect. Got bored so here's my rendering of my zombie apocalypse team:
I'm third from the left
So that's about all. I'm off to enjoy the rest of my weekend.
Since then, I've been attempting to at least maintain, but some of my clothes are telling me I've not been doing a bang-up job on that front. Mostly everything still fits, but a couple of things aren't looking as nice as they did a month or two ago. Not owning a bathroom scale, I'd wager a guess I've put on maybe 5-10 lbs tops.
I intend to go back to tracking and attending meetings at a local group that costs a dollar a week rather than the 15 that weight watchers gouges you for.
As mentioned, I also have a new goal, one far less arbitrary than a silly number on a scale (which was, by the way 150 lbs.. at my lowest I was still 20 away from that).
awesome
The coolest fucking pants on the planet. I'd say universe because aliens may have the technology to make pants more fantastic than these, but if they do, I don't need to know about it. I found them today at the Salvation Army for seven dollars. Never worn.
So yeah. My goal is to fit into these pants. Numbers be damned. Okay not totally damned, some numbering is involved. These are a size 11.. I'm currently hovering around 12-13. I think getting to a point where I can fit the most fucking spectacular awesome size 11 plaid pants is an admirable, yet reasonable goal.
So here we are, week 1.
I see London, I see France...
I haven't decided on weekly, bi-weekly or monthly updates yet.
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In other news, last night was the final Midland production of the Vagina Monologues. The show went over fantastically and we sold around 400 tickets which means a lovely wad of cash for our local women's shelter. Great show, great ladies, great cause. I'm both sad and glad to see it done, because although I get my life back now, it really was a lot of fun and I met so many awesome people.
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Chloe's plumbing is all gone, finally got her spayed. Still dealing with evil demon kitties I currently have, but at least it's without threat of more to come. She looks truly pathetic right now though.
Hiding under the table as the boys still don't understand "Closed for Business"
Coming soon.. Tsunamis, Fangirlishness and Rape Culture (in unrelated posts, of course).
"I swam in the ocean and once again had that lost-in-time feeling. The ocean water was so calm that for a moment I could have been at home on Georgian Bay, perhaps on the beach at Wasaga. I ventured into the water that was green under the tropical sun. When I tasted the salt of the Atlantic, I knew where I was." - Vacation Journal 01-29-11
Saturday morning I woke up to the sunlight streaming into my room and promptly made myself a pot of coffee with the coffee maker provided. No milk. Dammit. No matter, I thought as I wandered towards the breakfast buffet. I have time to get a coffee and something to eat before the 10am orientation, I thought to myself not realizing that Dominican time is an hour ahead of Eastern Standard time, so rather than an hour, I had roughly two minutes. No breakfast for me. We were given a lot of information about various amenities of the resort, some warnings, ie. don't drink the tap water, don't convert your money to Pesos unless you plan to spend all of it, because the banks won't take those back, no way.
By the time orientation was over, I had missed breakfast. No breakfast, no coffee. I was not off to a good start. I went to guest services to book one of our a la carte meals for the next night, as it was Kaylee's birthday. The guest services woman was an unholy bitch who instructed me to go to the front desk if I wanted to order a cake. Front Desk told me I had to go to Guest Services who told me to go to the front desk. No food, no coffee and I am dealing with the most unfriendly woman on the planet. I lost my shit and was like "Seriously, can I not just get a frickin' cake for my friend? For the love of God and all that is holy!." We got it all sorted out but not without some tears of frustration on my end.
Starving, I bought some three dollar Pringles in the gift shop (yeah, I'm talking the single-serving can, not the full-stack) and headed to the pool with my book to kill some time and read. This past summer marked the first time since I was roughly 16 that I have dared to don a bikini. I was kind of nervous heading out (as I mentioned in my previous post, I was unable to find a decent one-piece) but all told, the trip did a lot of good in the name of my own personal body acceptance. Were there a lot of people who looked a hell of a lot better than I did? Yeah, I suppose so. People whose stomachs haven't been ravaged by carrying two children. At any rate, I was surprised at my own comfort level. I didn't feel like people were staring at me going 'What is she thinking??'
Okay, I felt like ONE person did that, but she looked like kind of a bitch anyway.
"I've met some people. Hoorah! I'm not completely socially retarded!" - Vacation Journal 01-29-11
There should be more bars that you can swim to. For real. The Swim-Up bar allowed me my first opportunity for meeting and talking to people. It was there that I met Joe and Bruce from Long Island, who broke the ice with "Don't worry, I'm buying." Incredibly witty in the context of an all-inclusive, don't you think? Nah, they were all right. They played a guessing game at my age, and then commented on the vast number of Canadians in the Dominican. I explained to them "It's frickin' cold. We don't want to be there."
Here I also made the acquaintance of a number of the young gentlemen that had boarded the plane the previous day. One of them called me out on my little piece of home, the Tim Hortons traveller I was using to carry my drinks in. The plastic cups they pour your drinks in at the bar are little better than glorified shot glasses, so bringing a traveller means less waste and less trips to the bar. And if you have a nice one, your drink stays cold. I ran out of conversation quickly though, so after a quick water aerobics class I went and changed for dinner, hit the buffet and then killed some time until Kaylee and Mindy's bus from the airport was due to arrive.
About this time I started missing my guitar and really wished I had packed as my carry-on, since the thought of sitting on the beach and playing some tunes was sounding not only like a great way to relax, but I have always found it to be quite the icebreaker. There was a beach party after dark and I got up the guts to volunteer for a competition for best reggaeton dancer. It was fun and embarrassing. I came in third and got a lot of compliments over the next day or two.
Finally Kaylee and Mindy got there. Our rooms were messed up but we couldn't really do anything about it until the next day. We were supposed to have adjoining, ocean-view rooms, theirs a double occupancy, mine a single. I got a single occupancy, with the slightest view of the ocean and they got a room with a double bed. On the opposite side of the hotel. Anyway they got there, unpacked their bags and our game faces were ON!
Coco Bongo in the daytime
We hit the hotel discotheque and met up with our buddies from the plane, who were a fun bunch of guys. We heard of another dance club just outside of the hotel by the name of Coco Bongo so after the hotel disco closed we headed out that way. I ended up sharing a drink on the patio with one of the Ontario boys until we decided to walk back to the hotel. This confused the hell out of the girls, as this guy had a twin who showed up after.. so they're all "Um.. where's Andie?" and he's all "Who?" Yeah. Awkward but funny.
During the walk back to the hotel, J. and I got horrendously lost and ended up going full circle, right back to where we started. It ended up being a long walk back to the hotel. The second trip around afforded me the chance during a bathroom run to check out a pretty cool looking rock club I hadn't noticed before. Sadly I never got to check out more than the bathroom at this particular establishment, and they never had any live music during the week.
I got woken up at roughly 5am by drunken silly giggles and banging at my door.
"What are you dooooing???"
"Hellooooooo!!??"
"Who's there???"
"Hoooussssekeeeeepinggggg!!!"
With one of the other ontario boys in tow, the girls decided to pay me a visit and wake my ass up. I'm sure my neighboring guests LOVED that. The whole scene was pretty funny though, once i got my friggin' pajamas on.
I got my snow tires today, finally. It meant spending a good two hours in the seventh circle of hell that is Wal-Mart, but holy crap it's done. Just in time to drive two and a half hours to Kitchener on Tuesday night for the Finger Eleven concert.
I also auditioned today for a local production of The Vagina Monologues that's being put on for our local women's shelter. I think I did pretty good, and it was fun trying out. I got to say fuck, cunt and vagina a whole lot. I think my chances of getting even a small part are pretty good.
I was listening to our local station's classic rock Saturday night and I'm reminded once again of the under-rated talent of the Animals and of the equally under-rated hotness of the young Eric Burdon. In my very honest opinion he should have easily taken Mick Jagger in a battle of British Invasion hotness. Jagger looks like a troll.
Holy crap. Loverboy. Classic rock night is AWESOME.
This video embodies every terrible 80's cliche imaginable, while having the added panache of being a CANADIAN 80s rock video. Can-rock in the 80's was a very special kind of terrible. Like Enid says in Ghost World "This is so bad it's gone beyond cool and back to bad again."
Anyhoo folks, this has been another half-assed weekend post, brought to you by myself and the Simple Dude in a Complex world. Go give him some love.
So I'm combining two things here.. first off, care of both Jess at not your typical joan of archetypal patterns as well as Vintage Witch/Little Scotia at I Just Got My Poetic License, Loan Me Your Pen! (via the facebook) I'm gonna play along with the Pay it Forward 2011 game. So how it goes, my understanding of it, is that the first five people to comment will be sent a hand-made gift courtesy of yours truly. I'm posting this here as well as on my Facebook , but I'm making the Facebook folks click through to here in order to claim their prize, since I'm a hard bitch like that.
Ready? annnnnnd Go! (take a look at the etsy link on the left to get an idea of the weirdness I like to create)
Secondly, I've received my first blog award. I can stop crying myself to sleep in the fits of jealousy I'm prone too. Sweet, Sweet Validation.
Rules state that I've gotta share five facts about myself, then pass it on to three others.
At the tender age of 11 I went go-carting on my own for the first time. Not understanding much about the laws of physics and aerodynamics, I promptly attempted a turn at full speed and launched myself into the air over the tire banks and onto the parallel track, falling roughly six feet through the air. Total injuries: 1 small cut on my pinkie finger.
At 18 I was hospitalized for a month with a double whammy of life-threatening health issues: a massive blood clot in my left leg, as well as a severe bout of colitis that had dropped my hemoglobin levels to about 55. For perspective, normal is about 120, around 90 is considered 'safe' and heart failure sets in at 45. Basically the doctors had to get rid of the clot, without counteracting the drugs that were attempting to get me to STOP bleeding.
In college I played the negligent mother of a gunman in a rock opera loosely based on the Columbine shooting that we presented for local high schools. I still kind of wish we could have taken that show on the road.
I have the scariest basement in the world. Cobwebs, weird dusty jars, dirt walls.. joists that still have bark on them.. scary. Doesn't even have a real door, it's a trapdoor.
I took up painting on the advise of a really bad psychic. It was a really upsetting and disturbing reading and I was determined to take something positive from the experience. Thankfully she was innacurate as she was pessimistic.
Okay, so passing it on...
Here's my picks:
Tyler at Tyler Has Nothing To Say. I know it doesn't come close to being Saskatchewan's Sexiest Blogger, but it's something.
Sarah at Here & Now - she's usually got a lot of interesting things to say
Sean at SeansJeep even though he never brought any bacon today.
So go forth, and don't forget.. first five commenters. Free stuff. From Me!
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In other news, feeling sorry for myself because the weather was too shitty to go to a party I wanted to go to tonight. Feeling like a wimp, but my snow tires don't get put on until tomorrow and knowing me, I'd get into an accident tonight. Blah. Stupid Canadian Weather.
Okay.. one or two things could have made it better.. aside from the obvious improvement that ending the day with some dirty-hot yet wholly monogamous monkey sex would have made, it could have been better if I was able to get my mom the gift I wanted to get for her birthday tomorrow.. I have a contingency, but well.. you can't win em all, I guess.
Otherwise, this days' been pretty flippin' fantastic. First, I just felt ridiculously cute all day. I looked hot, okay? It's not everyday that I can honestly say I look at myself and go 'Damn, you're SMOKIN' HOT today!'. Today was one of those days.
On my travels to try and track down my mom's birthday present, I picked up a movie I have been wanting to see for some time now, Slap Shot with Paul Newman, for the ridiculously low price of a lousy six bucks. Suh-Weet! My dad's been telling me about this one for years. Despite not being much of a sports fan, aside from hockey which I still only watch sporadically, I love sports movies with a passion on level with the passion with which I hate talking-animal movies. The whole sport-movie genre is essentially a genre of underdog stories, and if there is one thing I love, it's a good underdog.
I got the call that Wal-Hell tracked down some winter tires that will fit my car and they should be here for Friday, which is just in time, since I have an impromptu road trip for Tuesday now...
I got an email that I won tickets to see Finger Eleven in Kitchener next week through CHARTAttack. Oh, and a complete discography (oooha oooha!) After figuring out that I was NOT out of the country that day, I messaged a friend of mine and invited her, which turned out to be a more fantastic idea than I could have possibly imagined as a) she's never been to a concert and B) she was planning to see these guys in the spring so I was all like "WELL LET'S FUCKIN' GOOOOOO THEN!" which made said friend uber-happy, thus in turn making ME uber-happy because shit, man, who doesn't love a road trip and a concert? A FREE concert, no less?
Even better, when I asked the ex-hub and the new-wife about taking the girls overnight that night, they were all 'Oh, we were hoping to keep them one night next week. Tuesday sounds good.' How easy was THAT?
So yeah, next Tuesday I'm going to get off work, drive 2.5 hours to Kitchener, attend a concert, come home and work the next day. Because I am THAT effin' Hardcore.
Lastly, I got included in a Johnny Cash themed Etsy Treasury. See that one down in the bottom right hand corner? Those are my Johnny Cash coasters. You bet your arse they are. I feel like I've arrived in the crafting world.
Oh and since I haven't mentioned it in a bit, in a little over a week I will be out of this cold damp Canadian winter and basking in the all-inclusive glow of the Playa Dorada in Puerto Plata with two of my other best friends. That in and of itself kicks a whole lot of ass.
Now I'm sitting here facebooking and blogging, and my hair is purple and I am nice and sore from getting my ass kicked at kick-boxing tonight, sore in the good way as it was a hell of a workout. Got to use my Comic Life program for the first time in the four-someodd years I've had this computer, and oh yeah.. sleep is good too. night night, y'all.
Backstory: my online dating profile includes the same picture I use here, the one with me and my guitar. My Photobooth program flips pictures so they're mirror-images. Things appear backwards.
I get this email this morning from some 'dude' (guitarplaya - age 38).
I don't mean to alarm you but you are holding your guitar upside down (in your pic). Its nothing to be terribly concerned about and easily rectified if you follow these simple steps.
1. grab the guitar neck with your left hand.
2. place the body of the guitar an your right thigh.
Now your ready to play properly.
My response:
Orrrrr.... I could take the Auto-flip function off my Photobooth program. (or I could be playing left-handed with strings reversed.. aha!)
But thanks for the tip.
Is it me or does this smack of 'Aww wook at the widdle gurl. Her thinks her knows guitarz'. Maybe it's early and I haven't had enough coffee, but I've been playing for seventeen years. Fuck off.
I've been looking through my high school poetry books. I tell ya, a lot of this stuff is pretty fucking terrible, and probably shouldn't be consumed by anybody. But I have found one or two little gems that weren't entirely groan worthy, in my humble un-biased opinion.
D.P.S.
Truth, too much should We choose to lie Seize the day, too much should we ever die Fire in your head, we let ourselves go Denying real truth, Truths never show In identity life exists Life drives on We concern ourselves Not only with death and birth but love, hate, fire, earth and poison Inspiration, driven to our souls Inspired by life But drive to philosophical ecstasy and metaphysical Euphoria by the film alone.
This one I kind of find interesting, just because the other day Ozmandias posted about our adult selves in relation to how 12-year-old selves would ourselves. Not being the comic geek as a child that I sort of am now, I found the next poem an interesting bit of foreshadowing (I think this one was supposed to be lyrical, for a song, perhaps):
Comic Book Girl
Can you see me? I'm in the back of the room. I'm looking at you. Yeah, you. Can you hear me? I'm singing an alternate reality to you.
I'm lost in an imaginary animated world Visited by friends I made real as a little girl Cartoon creations and perceptions are unfurled I remain known to you as the Comic Book Girl
My fantasy becomes your reality My dream is now your life The truth is never pretty So I've built my life on lies
TV's fucked up images in my fractured psyche Doesn't it sound like fun? Immortality and a cartoon death Don't you want to die one?
I'll drag you into my imaginary animated world Into an acid-trip dementia you'll be hurled As everything you believe in is unfurled Under a spell cast by the Comic Book Girl
Hehehe, check this one out.. Oh the burgeoning adolescent sexual awakening!! Oh the grappling with the madonna/whore complex!! LOLOLOL!
Harlot
When did this pleasure come from pain? When it's so hot outside All it does is rain Steam and sweat and tears And happiness throughout the years All too much can make you go insane Maybe I can have you here tonight I never would put up a fight Yes and No and Maybe Not What if this is all we've got Even when I know the timing's right.
I think I may have been too hard on that one.. I kind of like it. Meh. These are the good ones of the bunch, if you can believe it. From roughly 1995-1998 copyright Andrea Lyn Cole
Roughly the age when I would have written this drivel. Kind of wish I had pics from my vaguely-goth phase. They call em emo's now, I think.
So you may (because I like to pretend more people care what I write than probably do) have noticed a dearth of WWWednesday posts. This is because I haven't actually been to weigh in since they changed the program and I'm really struggling with whether I want to go back or not. I'm afraid of backsliding but I really have a bad taste in my mouth as far as the rampant corporatism goes. Sigh.
I made banana bread tonight but I think I may have under cooked it. It's a bit mushy. I made a pretty cool comic-themed headband which will not be going on the Etsy store - no, this one will be for my own personal use.
jealous? *nods knowingly* You're jealous.
Taking a cue from Saskatchewan's sexiest blogger, Tyler, I've had this song stuck in my head all day:
Apparently this is the song the Scott Pilgrim books and subsequently the film Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World film was named after. I can't tell if she's saying "I've liked you for a thousand years" or "I've liked you for a dozen years".
A quick Google search tells me it's thousand. This is comforting. I hate to think I've been singing it wrong. all. day. long.
...and right now I'm tossing around thoughts for a post on mainstream porn and feminism in response to Kissie Catastrophe's post at Ethecofem - basically expanding on some thoughts I posted in the comments section.
So to break up the uber-serious monotony, here's a few random awesome things I've found kicking around the internet. Some are new, some are things I've known of for some time.
Brandon Bird. I love this guy's artwork. It's what I wish mine could be, a twisted parfait of surrealism and pop culture. Since I don't personally celebrate the soul-sucking mindfuck that is Valentines day, part of me really wants to buy the complete set of Law and Order SVU Valentines Cards (sorry, you're going to need to scroll a bit) and have my kids distribute them amongst the other little hooligans in their class. I'm pretty sure that might warrant a call from their teacher though.
This Post from Aunt Becky at Mommy Wants Vodka. I was in tears reading it, especially when I am reminded of how my now-10-year-old nephew, upon entering Junior Kindergarten and discovering the world of literacy, decided to label everything in his room. In black Sharpie. His bed. His Sheets. His pillow. Everything. It also reminded me of how up until recently everything I owned seemed to be covered in a layer of stickers, courtesy of my little one (who also seems to have a tearing/ripping/otherwise destroying paper goods fetish.)
Nirvana-Themed Ballet Flats. I rarely drool over shoes (okay I sometimes do.. but I rarely trying to mentally justify 80+ bucks for shoes) but these are too freaking cute for words. This woman's store also has some wicked cool Wonder Woman wedges. Sweet Jesus.
This friggin van that was in the parking lot at work today:
Is that not one freaking sweet flame job? Do you think they paid for that? Or do you think the guy got a stencil and did it himself (or herself, let's be fair).
In other news, the mirror I was given to recondition is coming along nicely, but I have to lament the lack of a decent craft and/or art supply store in the vicinity. Michael's is a good 35 minutes away, and that pretty much leaves the Quest Art Gallery, which has limited selection, or Wal-Mart, which is.. well.. you all know my opinion on Wal-Mart. Plus there's still a lot of stuff they don't have either. So yeah, travelling for art supplies is crap. But my mirror is going to look awesome. Will post pics when done. I wish I had thought to get a picture before i started this project.
One of my quirks is the ability to relate pretty much any occasion to some kind song lyric. Hell, there are periods of my life that I could compile an entire soundtrack for. I'm kind of at a loss right now though. Yes, it's New Years Eve and I'm being all retrospective. I'm not sure how I feel about the past year.
Without going into too much detail, I have mentioned previously my messed up relationship with New Years Eve. It was a New Years Eve that the ex-hub told me he was unhappy and thinking of leaving. That night we talked in tears for hours and I literally, on the floor on my hands and knees, begged him not to leave. I had never ever lowered myself to that point before and later I swore I never would again. My world crumbled before my eyes. In spite of agreeing to try and work things out, two weeks later he was gone. It's so bizarre years later that I had felt so strongly about someone who now, is just an aspect of my life that I deal with. We share children but at this point in time he's little better than a stranger or an acquaintance to me. That I had felt so destroyed at that time seems almost laughable now. So weird how time changes things.
It was also a New Years Eve that I, after an unfortunate combination of vanilla liquer, Sauvignon Blanc and alcoholic Jello that I very tearfully proclaimed less-than-platonic feelings to a friend of many years, but they were not reciprocated. It was not the classiest of scenes but fortunately there were few witnesses. Mainly he, I and the two friends tasked with the unfortunate job of trying to haul my blubbering drunk ass to the cab. Again, time is a funny funny thing, as a mere two years later I can safely say that we've made our way back to some semblance of our pre-breakdown normalcy. It was rough for a while, for me anyway
There have been some very good years too. Last year was probably the best one I can remember. The live show my friend K and I were supposed to go to was cancelled, so we decided to crash the wedding of a couple we knew who were getting married that night. We showed up after dinner, into the dance portion of the reception, and the bride and groom were very gracious and insisted if we were going to stay, we were to eat lots of food as they weren't taking ANYTHING home. It ended up being a fantastic night of dancing with some of my oldest and dearest friends. So they're not ALL bad.
2010. Oh, what to say about you, 2010.
You've been interesting, that's for sure.
2010 was the year I found out there is such a thing as love at first sight. And although things didn't work out, this was the year I discovered that I was able to really open up and be true with my feelings to someone, even if they didn't entirely share those feelings. And although things are crappy now, there were a lot of good times I will always remember fondly, whether you continue to be part of my life as a friend or not.
2010 was the year I lost my best friend to time, age and changes in personality, values and general outlook. It was probably the hardest thing I went through this year. It was like getting divorced all over again. It's still hard to know that I can't just call her and see how she's doing, it's hard to know that she wants nothing to do with me now for various reasons. It's hard to not just apologize in hopes that I can have my friend back, but any wrong I committed, I've already apologized for. I hope one day we can talk again, but at this point, it's no longer my call. It's not just her, I miss the rest of the family as well, including my (former? how do these things work?) godchildren.
On the other hand, 2010 I forged new friendships with people who I hope to have in my life for a long time, and revisited some old friendships that I had neglected and enjoyed ongoing friendships. I was going to mention a few people, but I really don't want to leave anyone out. When I hit my milestone 30th birthday I was floored by the number of people in my life who came to wish me well.
2010 was the year I reclaimed my name and my status as a totally, officially and legally single woman.
2010 was the year I started doing more music wise, playing at local open mike nights, getting to know the other people who frequented these nights, and even got up the nerve to sign up for the Penetang museum summer concert series. A whole two hours playing by myself. Twas pretty awesome.
So yeah, there was good and bad I suppose. There's so much more that happened, but this post is a bit of a novel as it is, and there's no end in sight. Maybe I'm just apprehensive because I really don't know what what to expect with the coming year. I'm bummed out because I'm on my own again this year. I know it's not the be-all end-all, but it sure as shit would be nice to not be by myself when the big ball drops. Yes, I snickered when I said that.
Now we all know that all things cliched and having to do with the New Year include both a retrospective and a resolution for the year to come. Here's a few things that are on my resolution list:
Risk more, apologize less. In the words of one of my dearest friends - "Laugh till you cry. Dance to your own beat. Eat dessert first. Sing loud.. REALLY loud. And Smile"
Seriously, I was doing a quick post and I almost declared it a Half-Assed Weekend post, then I remembered it was Wednesday. Sweet Jebus, do I ever love being on holidays.
I got the call today that my ticket to the Dominican Republic all ready to be picked up. Oh yes, one sun and alchohol fuelled week with two of my best friends. Happy Belated 30th Birthday to me because really, who wants to go to the DR in AUGUST? You go in JANUARY so you can laugh at all the people who are stuck in here in -30 Canadian winter weather. Suckahs.
Went thrift-store shopping with my mom and sister today and it was fabulous. I had not one but two OMG experiences. I bought a pair of jeans for thirteen bucks that when I put them on, I swear, I heard a heavenly chorus. I've never had a pair of pants that fit so well. You KNOW it's a good pair, when you put on your previous 'favorite' pair and well, they just don't feel right.
I also picked up fabulous strapless party dress for New Years (which will also be wearable in the tropics) and a wicked cool Mad-Men style 50's secretary dress for work. Gotta work off some of my ass for it to fit properly, which I know goes against my thrift store shopping rules, but I really couldn't bypass this one. It was way too cute.
Awesome new years dress. I don't care if I go out by myself, I'm going out in this. Fuck you, New Years Eve.
Awesome 50's Madmen type office dress. Little tight in the butt-area, but I'll get on that.
In other news, I started some new projects that will be getting added to the Etsy store when i get them done. Awesome set of Johnny Cash coasters, and one of my friend's gave me an old mirror she had kicking around for the last four years or so. On the way home from her place I was already thinking of things I could do with it, and it's coming along nicely. I'll post pics when I get it done.. need some extra supplies before I can continue on it.
I really need to remember to get creative when I'm feeling like shit. I was in such a crud mood yesterday but getting my hands dirty and listening to loud music just made everything go away.
Anyway, I'm off, dinner and movie night at my other friend's place tonight. Looking forward to it, we haven't had much time to hang out with the holidays and all.
So the guy in the store that is always smiling and saying hi to me is not flirting but rather being friendly, seeing as I briefly dated his brother. AWKWARD.
It was pointed out to me today that my black purse, when it blends in to my black t-shirt and is subtly camoflaged by my coat and scarf, make me appear to be quite pregnant. AWKWARD.
The kid in McDonalds needs to be commended for keeping a straight face, as tonight I walked in, ordered and paid for food, and walked away without realizing I had a Christmas tree sticker in the middle of my forehead. AWKWARD.
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In other news, I'm a lousy consumer. I trekked out to go Boxing day shopping, with a book and a DVD to return, and roughly 70 dollars worth of gift cards, and I walked away with a coffee.
I'm not a fan of gift cards, actually. I can appreciate the idea that it means the recipient can get whatever they want, but as someone that tends to put a lot of thought (and at times, overthink) when it comes to gift giving, they're a safe but kind of boring option. Now, in my particular case this year, I know that the original gift I was supposed to get was a well-thought-out, but just seasonally unavailable one. (my grandma's boyfriend had the intention to get a punching bag for me, but they're not in stock this time of year, so the gift card was a viable alternative).
I'm one of those people who is not a good candidate for cash or gift-card because of an annoying habit of buying practical things I need or things for the girls, rather than a gift for me. My loathing of big box stores (namely the seventh circle of hell that is Wal-Mart), is kind of an issue too.
So my attempt to indulge in some mass consumerism was a bust. I'll hold on to the cards until something pops into mind that can be had... I'm considering going apeshit on art supplies (there's a set of acrylic paints - big tubes of it for like 35 bucks), or something to that effect, or maybe replenishing my makeup supply. Truth be told, the older I get, the less interested in the accumulation of stuff. Even books and dvd's, which used to be my major vices, don't elicit the same excitement.. as gifts, yes, but not so much as something I feel the need to purchase myself.
I get a lot more excitement out of A) being gifted something really cool that I'd generally never justify buying myself B) A successful barter or bargain-find for something I generally wouldn't justify buying myself at full price - yes, I'm a yard-sale, free-cycle, value village/sally ann junkie. C) finding something really awesome, handmaid and one-of-a-kind that I wouldn't be able to find in a big corporate box store. Something with a story behind it.
On one hand, I pity people who are tasked with having to buy me gifts for whatever occasion. On the other hand, my interests are pretty varied, and I'm not picky, plus you know that saying 'Champagne Tastes on a Beer Budget?'.. I'm like, 'bathtub moonshine on a beer budget', so that being said, maybe I'm not such a terrible person to buy for.
One last thing. Our mall? Sad. Sad sad sad. only about 50% of the units are open, and they're mostly big chain stores.. I went there today, and it looked about as busy as a normal mall on any given day. I've heard the rent is exhorbitantly high and that's why none of the stores but the big ones can afford to stay open. I'd love to meet the owners and say "Hey, congratulations on single-handedly crippling the local enconomy... Kudos!"
, based on the book by Robert Munsch and needed a background for the outdoor scene. Since I'm pretty sucky on that whole 'volunteer-parent' thing, I thought "Hey, this is somewhere I can contribute!"
I read it after seeing an interview with The Tragically Hip where they said that the third verse for the song Courage was basically ripped from that book.
with Paul Newman, for the ridiculously low price of a lousy six bucks. Suh-Weet! My dad's been telling me about this one for years. Despite not being much of a sports fan, aside from hockey which I still only watch sporadically, I love sports movies with a passion on level with the passion with which I hate talking-animal movies. The whole sport-movie genre is essentially a genre of underdog stories, and if there is one thing I love, it's a good underdog. 
