Tuesday, June 30, 2009

Makes me cringe

Someone who e-mailed to ask if I "kould" do something for them...that's not even a slip of the finger, the "c" and the "k" live on opposite sides of the keyboard!!!

Concert? What concert?

Last week Luc and I attended the Tragically Hip concert at the Orpheum Theatre here in Vancouver. The music was fantastic, but the overall experience was irritatingly unsatisfying. It began by Luc and I arriving in the midst of the Hip's second song - they didn't have an opening band like we had anticipated, like every concert in the history of concerts that I have attended. We weren't too put off by this, we were just happy that we went straight to the venue and not to Pita Pit first like we had originally planned.

We managed to blindly grope our way to our seats in the dark of the auditorium. A slower song was on and everyone was seated - and about one minute after settling in, I had the head of the kid in front of me leaning back into my lap. No joke....the seats are that tight and he was that clueless. I "accidentally" kneed him in head (gently) and I think he got the drift...until he did it again a few minutes later. Luckily a crowd favourite came on and everyone stood, relieving me of my lap duties.

The group directly in front of us consisted of a few middle aged guys and one guy's son (the head in my lap), who was about 12 years old and delightfully round in the belly. At first their dancing was cute and funny, but three more songs into the concert and I still couldn't stop giggling. I realized that I had been watching the 12 year kid dancing like a 40 year old woman more than I was watching Gord Downie do his awkward jig onstage. Can you blame me though, the kid was way better.

Luc was seated on my right and on my left was a group of teenage girls, who had bought concert t-shirts before the concert and were all wearing them....that's one of Luc's personal favourites, the concert t-shirt wearing concert-goers. By the intermission I was more well versed in the romantic escapades of the girl beside me than I was in the set list. They were chatting and snapping pictures and being all together way too distracting. It's really my own fault, I should have been singing along and not listening to the top 5 reasons why Brad was the total worst boyfriend ever...EVER.

If this wasn't enough, two rows ahead of us was a group of guys who played musical chairs the whole time...the WHOLE TIME. Up, down, back and forth, switching seats, jumping over rows...I was tempted to break all their legs just so they would sit still. Not to mention they were smoking weed that smelled like rotten ginger. If you're curious as to what that smells like, buy some ginger root from your local market, peel about half of it, leave it in the vegetable crisper for a week or two, then inhale deeply.

It's sad, but I remember more about the people around me than the actual entertainment on stage. The music was good background noise for the circus show going on around us though.

Won't you be my neighbour?

Today is hot dog day, tomorrow is a holiday and this weekend we're going camping. This is shaping up to be a nice little week here. I'm trying to focus on the positive and ignore this thumping headache that's radiating from my forehead all the way down the back of my neck. I think it's from a lack of sleep because last night our downstairs neighbour was watching Coronation Street, or Matlock, or whatever it is that old people watch, and the volume was cranked loud enough that we could follow the show's plot from the comfort of our bed. Even though I was intrigued by Eduardo's evil scheme and desperately wanted to find out which guy Kathy was going to choose, I was more concerned with getting some rest since it was well after midnight. I tried to divert my anger into postive sleeping energy, but that wasn't happening.

Sleep wasn't coming and my mind began to wander, as it often does. Our downstairs neighbour has never been one to crank the volume on anything, he's just an old guy who lives alone and keeps to himself. There had to be a reason why he's doing this - revenge on us for partying too loud on the weekends? His hearing is finally failing him and he doesn't realize the volume is maxed out? He wants us to come knock on his door because he's lonely and just wants someone to talk to? He's subletting his apartment to some inconsiderate old woman? He's got an inconsiderate old woman girlfriend who likes to watch TV after old people sex? He's experimenting with being nocturnal? No...he's DEAD and he's had the TV on all day and he's sitting in there DEAD and there's nobody that knows he's DEAD because he lives alone and we should probably call the police and tell them that he's DEAD! I started to feel bad for being angry at our poor, dead neighbour. He was just a sweet old man who wanted to enjoy some afternoon television when he was ambushed by the grim reaper. I could picture him sitting peacefully in his armchair, wrapped snugly in a brown terrycloth robe, legs crossed, fingers gripped stiffly around the remote, head cocked slightly to the left, eyes wide, still gazing toward the TV. And then all of a sudden the TV turned off, I realized he was very much alive and just being an ass by watching TV loudly after midnight and I hated him again.

Monday, June 29, 2009


While walking home from elementary school one day, I dumped a thermos full of milk into a mailbox. From time to time this memory resurfaces and I still get the penetrating sting of guilt.

Sunday, June 28, 2009

It's Official!

We've chosen the church, picked out the venue, and thrown down the deposits...we're getting hitched on September 5, 2010!

Friday, June 26, 2009

Why we don’t go downtown much these days

Despite having fantastic night last Saturday, I’m left with the feeling that our downtown days have come and gone. We're not huge club people (those days have definitely come and gone) and we're no longer keen on making the trek downtown...why bother when the couch is within walking distance from the fridge? I wouldn't say we're an old married couple; we do lots of things on the weekends...like have friends over to play checkers while talking about how we can't drink more than one glass of wine anymore because of a sensitive stomach, or having to get up at 6:00am on Saturday to get in line at the drug store to pick up a prescription.

But seriously...dancing and drinking and cruising down Granville Street are fun, but I can think of places I would rather be and things I would rather be doing on a Friday or Saturday night. This feeling really sank in for me at the end of the evening, when we made the obligatory stop at Pita Pit, and in waltzed a few kids that I used to coach in volleyball...when they were in grade 8. I didn't necessarily feel old, I just felt out of place. They were completely wasted drunk, tripping over each other and for some reason, I felt silly. It's not that I no longer want to drink and dance and act a fool, I just think it's time to find a new venue for our debauchery. Needless to say, we won't be going downtown tonight, but we will be going to Pita Pit on the way home from work. Hallelujah, it's the weekend!


My Life in France - Julia Child

Thursday, June 25, 2009

Listening to

The Last Recluse - Tragically Hip

(not the real video....but the real song)


I just got a memo from our receptionist that next Tuesday is "Hot Dog" day for our office building. I think my level of excitement is a good indicator of how little I have to look forward to on weekdays.

Wednesday, June 24, 2009


Nobody wins when you fart in the car with the windows up.

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

When the bath mat is no longer effective

This weekend I had a surprise already waiting for me in the shower before I stepped in - and no, it wasn't Luc. The water was running, the curtain was half-drawn and I stepped one foot in, I grasped the curtain with my right hand for balance as I brought my other foot over the edge of the bathtub. I've slipped in the shower before and hit my shin so hard it turned purple and fell off...yup, fell right off my leg. I took great caution while stepping in to ensure that I didn't slip, and just as I placed my other foot safely onto the bath mat I saw it. A giant moth. A moth so big it had a part-time job at a State Fair giving kids plane-rides on its back. He was settled in between the folds of the shower curtain, watching me in anticipation. He took one look at me, opened his horrifying moth mouth and said, "I've been waiting for you...I snuck in through your window last night, you really should get a screen. And now I'm going to fly right at your face and rub my hairy moth body all over you." Before the giant moth had the chance to attack, my feet started scrambling faster than my legs could deal with. All of my limbs went crashing into the tub's edge and the walls of the shower as I screamed bloody murder trying to claw my way out of there. I flung myself out, soaking the floor and everything near me like a wet dog shaking off. Luc came running in to find me standing stick straight in the corner of the bathroom, soaking wet, mascara running down my face, one arm pointed toward the shower, still screaming "MOTHHHHHHH!!!! MOTHHHHH FREAKING HUUUUGE, SHITTT, OH MY GAWWDD MOTH!!!" The ordeal wasn't over yet, because Luc wanted to spray him off the curtain and down the drain, an idea so foolish I could barely believe he would suggest it. "What? So he can just fly back up and get his dirty moth body all over me? Noooo....KILL HIM....GARBAGE CAN GARBAGE CAN KILLL HIMMM!" Being the gentleman that he is, Luc obliged and squished the giant moth and threw the remains in the garbage can. Until we stop opening the window without the screen, I can't guarantee that another traumatizing episode like this won't happen again.

True Story

On the drive in this morning I spotted something that, until now, I believed was fictitious. Sitting at a stop light, I looked down at the center line to notice it had been repainted. I don't really know how the lines get repainted; I don't know if some guy cruises down the street on his scooter with a long-handled paint brush or if they use that big machine that looks like a zamboni. However it's done, they messed up. There was a dead crow in the middle of the road, and whoever was facilitating the line painting didn't think the crow hindered the process, so they left him there...spread eagle (spread crow?) in the middle of the center line, wings splayed out on either side of his mangled body, head raised, pointing his beak proudly...that crow died like a champ and they desecrated his body by painting right over him. I was baffled though, because I've seen e-mails that get sent around with silly things like that; a dead animal on a dusty highway that has been incorporated into the painted lines...but it's hard to know what to believe these days with photoshop. It turns out that does happen. They literally painted the center line right over the crow's dead, mangled carcass. Even when he is finally scraped off the road, the outline of his body will remain and his heroic death will be immortalized in yellow paint. I didn't take a picture or anything, but fortunately I'm an amazing artist. Yes...an AMAZING artist. Below is my tribute to that brave crow. You might wonder how his outline could be left on the street if a straight line was painted right over him...but trust me, the way they splattered paint all over him and all around his body, there is going to be a mark. Which brings me to my next point; judging by my drawing of the incident, maybe I'm not such an amazing artist?

Monday, June 22, 2009


I could probably sit at my desk and eat peanut butter ALL DAY.

Wedding Planning: take one

This weekend Luc and I met with the wedding coordinator at the church for a chat about reserving our day and how things work for the ceremony. The coordinator was an older, silver haired woman, and she was so incredibly cute that I found myself giggling for no reason when she said things, which I very awkwardly tried to cover up. When we left I asked Luc if he noticed - hoping that his reaction would be, "What? Giggling? No...I didn't notice at all" - and he informed that it was painfully obvious...but only to him (yeah right!). I don't know what brought on the giggles, but I'm already excited to see her again. It might be because growing up, my grandparents passed away when I was quite young, so I never got the chance to sit and chat with nice, older folks. And like I've mentioned before, most of the older ladies in Kerrisdale are bats on wheels.

We're still moving ahead with lots of wedding plans (an alarming pace to some, extremely fun and exciting to me) and we have an appointment with a photographer tonight. I was considering bringing in a picture of Adriana Lima and asking, "with the right angles, will there be any way you can make me look like this?", but I think that might be the job of the makeup artist. A good friend of mine is a makeup artist so I'll ask her if she knows any magicians.

I've also been thinking a lot about recommendations - I don't fully trust them. I've already had two majorly conflicting verbal recommendations on a photographer; it wasn't just: "they were OK" vs. "they're really good". It was: "they were terrible" vs. "they are remarkable". I guess as long as you consider the source, you get a better idea of how to interpret the recommendation - but they're both extremely reliable sources! But as far as photography goes, there is just a small list of "must-have" shots that we want, then after that, whatever happens, happens! I'll be putting my faith in them to do their thing. And I don't have to worry about anyone trying to make Luc look good, he's already a major stud! I'm excited about tonight though - I found this one all on my own and hopefully their portfolio is as fabulous as their website.

Friday, June 19, 2009

The weekend is nigh

She works hard for the money

Today we got our quarterly bonuses, so to celebrate, I went to Orange Julius and got myself a free a smoothie...because that's all I could afford. On my last day though, I will definitely splurge for a bottle of champagne to spray all over the place as I run naked through the office screaming at the top of my lungs.

Thursday, June 18, 2009

Honestly Scrappy

Saturday Jane, a fellow blogger (and a rather witty young lady, I must say) bestowed upon me a blog award...my first award, which I proudly post below.

This award comes with terms, and therefore, I present to you, ten things about myself. I must issue a warning though, this is not for the faint of heart. Please friends, try not to recoil in horror as I reveal to you secrets that I have kept pent up for years, nuggets of truth that I keep hidden away so that nobody will see the real me, things so shocking that even my closest confidantes may feel like all through these long struggles of friendship, they have never truly known the real Kristen.

1. When I was born I weighed 11lbs, but I tell people that I weighed 12lbs because that one pound makes it sound that much more awesome.

2. I order my lattes "extra hot" at Starbucks but then I always wait until they've cooled down to drink them.

3. I eat cereal for dinner more often than I'm willing to admit.

4. I have a completely irreconcilable fear of the dark.

5. I was a vegetarian for 14 years, but I ate hot dogs the whole time...OK, maybe everyone I know already knew that about me - there is a bevy of photographic evidence and one day I will find one of those unflattering hot dog eating pics and post it on here.

6. I don't know how to burp.

7. My lifelong dream has been to be on Saturday Night Live - I used to memorize the skits and perform them when I was a little kid...I actually still do that. In my high school yearbook, the last line of my grad quote says, "Look for me on SNL one day", and even though nobody would remember that, I'm still going to show up at my 10 year reunion with my tail between my legs for not achieving comedy greatness.

8. I hate the wind. I don't mind a gentle breeze on a hot day, but when the wind is whipping every single hair on my head in a different direction I feel like I'm going to have a break down.

9. I think caesars are totally gross and I really, honestly don't understand why they are so popular.

10. I'm a HUGE music lover - I'm always downloading (I mean....buying...) new songs and I go to a ton of concerts. In fact, Luc and I are going to see the Tragically Hip on Tuesday. Luc is also a huge music lover and we're currently thinking of fun ways to fit certain songs (in certain special ways) into our wedding.

And since I don't have a large group of blog friends, I inevitably pass on the award to only one person (rather than seven), whom I expect to keep the "Honest Scrap" torch burning: Chelsea, whose blog makes me cry tears of laughter.

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

Can someone please buy me a teleporter?

Driving home after work last night was, yet again, an excruciating exercise in patience. I came across every idiot move that one can see while driving - someone literally drove across the ENTIRE Granville Street bridge in two lanes, tires on either side of the white dotted line, straddling that thing like they were riding a pony.

I was nearly home (and nearly deaf from my own ravenous screaming and cursing) when I came across one more incident that sent me over the edge. At the end of the day I'm hungry, and I'm tired, and I would rather be anywhere than behind the wheel of my car, I just want to get HOME! So when the light turned green and the woman in front me (who was turning left, like me) didn't pull out into the intersection, I gave her a courtesy "beep, beep" (which, I want to point out was showing a great deal of restraint on my behalf since by that time I was ready to strangle the next person who so much as looked at me). The woman didn't budge...the light had turned green, she and I were both turning left, and she didn't pull out into the intersection. Cars streamed by in the oncoming lane and I sat there, steam coming out of my ears. Finally, the light turned yellow, it was her big moment to pull out and make the turn. She still didn't move. Obviously when the light turned green again and she STILL didn't move out into the intersection, I abandoned my gentle "beep, beep" for a loud, intimidating "HOOOOOONK"....I kept my hand pressed down on the horn until she slowly rolled into the intersection. I don't know what she would have done if I hadn't been behind her, honking in rage. Was she going to sit there until rush hour traffic was over? It's people like that who are taking years off my otherwise calm and pleasant life.

I try to keep my road rage to myself and my passengers - I don't like fingering people and screaming at them (well, I scream, I just look straight ahead rather than at them) because you never know when you might see them again. Like the time I worked at a gym while going to school (and I started at 6:00am), and while driving to work at 5:40am some crazy guy cut me off, nearly hitting me...then we were stopped at a red light together so I took the opportunity to express my, ahem, "disappointment" in his driving. He peeled off the crosswalk and continued to drive like a complete psycho...all the way to the gym...where we both arrived at 5:45am and I made him wait outside until 6:01am before unlocking the front door. It was...pretty awkward. I just wish I had some way to seek revenge on these bad drivers, like if I had some magical bird that I could summon, and when they stepped out of their car he would shit on their head. That would make me feel much better.

Monday, June 15, 2009


Today on my break I sat with Luc by a fountain, watching a seagull the size of a small dog, discussing different moves you could use on him and how funny they would be. We decided that the classic Streetfigher move, "shoryuken" would be the most hilarious. Below is what I think it would look like.

Keeping my promise to myself

Must summon all the strength I have to resist blogging about work today....must be strong........can't cave to temptation....would be hilarious....must stop myself...

She eats her peas one at a time!

Many women know the phrase "he's just not that into you" from Sex and the City, others know it from the book, and pretty much everyone knows it now from the movie. Last night Luc and I watched the movie (his suggestion, I just wanted to clarify that) and he was bewildered by the conversations between the women. The over-analyzing of every move men make, the staring at the phone ("What?? Do girls actually DO that? Literally sit and STARE at the phone?") and waiting for it to ring, the interpreting of total bullshit "signs"....and I had to tell him, yeah, it's pretty accurate!

I am so incredibly ashamed to admit that I have stared at my cellphone, willing it to ring in the hopes that the total douche bag of a jerk I was dating at the time would be on the other line. I've been involved in hour-long conversations dissecting the reasons that a guy hasn't called yet; a full hour dedicated to how he's probably busy and doesn't want to call because he wants to wait until he has something to say and if he calls now, well, guys don't just call to "chat" and he's totally not going to call until he has time to go out again, which he obviously wants, because he sent a smiley face text after the last date and he wouldn't do that unless he was interested. I analyzed good dates, I analyzed bad dates, I analyzed my friends' dates....and anyone who says they haven't done this before is a liar!

Reflecting on these times also reminded me of other dating eccentricities that I'm equally ashamed to admit: I broke up with people for the weirdest reasons. I once stopped calling a guy because of the corny voicemail he left - a voicemail so hilarious that it is now legendary within a small group of friends. It was a great date, but that voicemail...I couldn't look at him the same way now knowing what he was capable of. On a date once, the guy fell while we were rollerblading - he never heard from me again. I once broke up with someone because his car smelled like cheese. I think growing up watching Seinfeld led me to believe that these were legitimate reasons. Man hands? I would have dumped her ass too!

In the end, these bizarre excuses are just because we know we're not "into" this person and we're just looking for a way out. If anyone out there would like to share (you don't even have to write your real name!), I would LOVE to hear some of the reasons you dumped a girlfriend/boyfriend. The crazier, the better!

Saturday, June 13, 2009

Friday, June 12, 2009

Morning Rush Hour

Judging books by their covers

Following a promotion at work, Luc's start time was bumped back to 7:30am - congrats, we're rewarding you with less sleep! I've been foregoing an extra hour of sleep each morning to go early with Luc and avoid taking the bus later. With my new hour to kill, I've found a fun game to play. After grabbing a drink, I claim a cozy spot at the local coffee shop from which I observe the line of caffeine addicts that snakes out the door and into the street. This is a form of people watching that I like to call,"Who's an a-hole?" By watching people's behaviour in line, I like to guess what kind of people they are.

There are a few criteria, we'll call them the "first impression list", that are usually reliable indicators of whether someone will hold an elevator door for you or run you over in their Bentley without blinking. Clothes: men with something in the breast pocket of their suit jacket are more likely to talk down to you or throw their Blackberry at a waiter in a fit of rage. Cellphone: people carrying a Blackberry (and you always know because they have it out and they're constantly holding it about 2mm from their face) are generally less friendly than those without a visible cellphone or those simply texting. Hair: the less hair, the meaner the person. Men and women included.

People who are constantly glancing around are always going to try and chat with the cashier or the person next to them in line. They're nice and they're lonely...but they're boring, and they're only going to talk about the weather or the new pills they have to give their dog because he has heart worms again. But he won't eat the pills so you have to put them inside a piece of cheese, and the other day he ate the cheese and spit out the pill. Yeah...that's their idea of a hilarious story.

I've also learned that women check out other women 100% more than they check out men. It is also important to note that the amount a woman will stare at other women dramatically increases with the amount of makeup she is wearing and the more "work" she has had done.

Please keep in mind these are my sleepy observations and in no way meant to offend bald guys wearing suits with handkerchiefs in the breast pocket and a blackberry in hand. Picture that though....is that guy an a-hole?

Thursday, June 11, 2009

Obsessed with

Downloading new fonts.

The microcosms of a hangover

When we drink too much, we're all aware of what will happen the next morning: a hangover. The hangover can take many different forms, some more intense than others. Sometimes we wake up with a horribly dry, crusty mouth, like after passing out in a desert and sliding down a sand drift, face first, mouth wide open. Some of us run for the bathroom to lean against the toilet, sit on the toilet, or lie down next to the toilet. Some of us can't even roll out of the depression in the mattress that our body made from staying in one coma-like position for ten hours.

For me, the hangover has always been shrouded in mystery because I never know what form it will take. Sometimes I can bathe myself in liquor and I wake up feeling like I watched an episode of Full House and tucked myself into bed at 7:00pm. I can pass out in a drunken stupor, the last fleeting thoughts rattling around in my head saying, “oh god, how will I ever function as a human being again?” before completely blacking out. Then the next morning, I drag myself out of bed and I’m all, “let’s make some fucken eggs and bacon, I feel GREAT!”

Typically I have one kind from a large array of "my hangovers"....either the queasy, or the gassy, the dizzy/heavy body, the "I honestly can't so much as move my pinky finger without spewing all over the place" (aka. the "I'm never drinking again" hangover), the headache....really, the list is quite large and I never know which one is coming, but they're all quite diverse. Today though, in various areas of my body, this hangover has taken the form of a hundred little different, simultaneous hangovers. One group has erected a city on one half of my brain that must be repaving every road in town, because I can feel the little jackhammers pounding. But then I have these moments of clarity, where I think, "yeah, I actually feel OK now," only to realize that something isn't right because I'm sitting crooked in my desk chair. Literally crooked. I haven't actually measured with a protractor or anything, but I'm going to estimate that I'm relaxing at about a 60 degree angle here. Just picture that. I'm not just feeling one way, I'm feeling a hundred ways at once and it feels terrible.

Last night when my cousin told me that I should write about people and their microcosms, I don't think this is what she had in mind...but I'm hungover, and right now my microcosm revolves around getting some hashbrowns and placating the "I want greasy food" hangover that just reared its ugly head.

Monday, June 8, 2009


I once called in sick to work because I got shampoo in my eye that morning while getting ready. I hated it there THAT much.

Blast off

"Could I please get a rocket sub?" The girl working at Quizno's stared back at me blankly. The look on her face was so void of any reaction to my request and so unaffected that I began to question my own existence. She's literally looking right through me - holy shit, I'm DEAD! I must have been hit by a car while crossing the street just now. OH SHIT! Now how am I going to get my rocket sub? Rocket sub...rocket sub......she wasn't looking through me, she was looking at me with the appropriate blank face you have when some idiot comes in and orders a "rocket sub." Realizing my error I corrected myself and asked, "may I please get a torpedo?" Success! I didn't die on the journey to Quizno's. However, I very well could have been hit by a car - I was like a race horse with blinders on. I practically galloped across the street, feet pounding the pavement like impatient hooves, saliva flooding my eager mouth which was flapping around like a baby searching for a nipple. I think I might be "that weird chick" for a lot of people in my area downtown. I'm usually pretty caught up in what's going on in my head and I'm pretty sure I'm one of those people who unknowingly mumbles to themselves, mouth slightly agape, bewildered look in their eyes. I didn't really care what I looked like though, I just wanted my rocket sub. I'm going to continue to call it that too because it sounds way cooler than torpedo. I'll just have to remember that next time I'm ordering.

Sunday, June 7, 2009


"Horse racing isn't really a sport - the horse doesn't even want to do it. He's only running because he's got a midget on his back. If YOU were walking down the street and a midget jumped on your back, you'd run too." - some comedian

Friday, June 5, 2009


I think people underestimate the power of natural things. I don't think offices should have coffee makers in the kitchen, I think they should have shower stalls. If you're tired you have a cup coffee....why not try jumping into a freezing cold shower for a few minutes? Just give it a shot then tell me if you're still having trouble keeping your eyes open. The rejuvenating powers of a cold shower are incomparable.

Wednesday, June 3, 2009

the Element of Surprise

This will not turn into a wedding blog

While packing on our last day in Penticton I made the classic error of not lifting with my legs. I was only trying to lift a backpack (filled with boulders) and I threw my back into spasms, which led to the most uncomfortable 7 hour drive home of my life. Because of this unfortunate injury, I've had to abandon my usual lunch hour gym routine, which in turn has made me realize that I do most of my thinking on the elliptical. Some people think in the shower, men think on the toilet (what else could take them 40 minutes in there? Certainly not pooping, I refuse to believe that), and I do my brainstorming at the gym. Thus, with no gym action, I've fallen flat, which has allowed the walls of my brain to wither and break down, allowing wedding fever to flood in and take over. So I guess it's not that I'm not thinking, it's just that I'm not thinking about ANYTHING ELSE. I've only been engaged for one week now and I'm already deep into a full fledged love affair with about six different wedding magazines. I've been spooning my wedding binder at night and whispering sweet nothings into the pages of vendor directories.

I must seem crazy for diving into the deep end of wedding planning, but with school looming in the distance (98 days to be exact), I think it would be prudent to make some of the important arrangements now....before I'm waist deep in sub right agreements and profit & loss statements. Don't I sound like a big important publisher? I expect to be back at the gym in a few days though, so expect to be hearing about more interesting and important issues, like why the girls in the change room don't shower and just douse themselves in body spray. Up until this point I had been unaware of the absorbent powers of body spray...oh wait, it doesn't absorb anything, it just mingles with your sweat to make it smell like someone just shit on a flower and now you're wearing it as a broach. Know this friends, I only tackle the most serious topics here.

Tuesday, June 2, 2009


When groups of guys go to restaurants like Earl's or Joey's or Cactus Club, and they end up with a male server...that must suck for them.

Growing Up

Things that I loved when I was a kid, but I hate now
  1. Barbie...that skinny bitch
  2. Basketball
  3. Wearing glasses
  4. Eating carrots dipped in ketchup
  5. The idea of growing up to be 6'3"
  6. Sleeping over at friends' houses

Things that I hated when I was a kid, but I love now

  1. Listening to hockey on the radio
  2. Leonard Cohen
  3. My freckles
  4. Meat (except, of course, hot dogs...I've always loved those)
  5. Going to the bathroom with the door open
  6. Crumbling crackers into soup

Monday, June 1, 2009

In Pictures: the Naramata Bench

Check out my album of wineries that we visited on the Naramata Bench here.

June 2009 Banner

Monthly Photo - June 2009

Winery dog at Elephant Island