The last hurrah!

We decided to go all out this year for Halloween. According to one of my best friends, "the next time Halloween falls on a weekend, we're going to have KIDS!!!" This alarming fact meant that Luc and I, and Kate and her fiance had to party like we were 18 and dress up like we were 8. Done and done. We won a costume contest and got a private booth and free bottle service at a club, so at least the effort that went into making the costumes was rewarded.

By the end of the night our go-karts were a little bit trashed, but that was to be expected. We crashed into each other, we crashed into other people, we crashed into cars on the street....we crashed into each other some more. Among the many unsolved mysteries from the night are the toy gun I found in the pocket of my vest, and my thumbs, which are both stained green. Nobody knows how this happened.

November Banner

I'm like, totally professional

For a class we have to choose a magazine to completely redesign. I'm not sure that I'd like to do one of the magazines that I currently read, because I like them...that's why I read them. I enjoy the layout, the content, the photography... There are some things that I would change, but in general, they're pretty good.

But here comes the dilemma...I have an idea for a different type of magazine that I would like to redesign. Not a magazine that I read, not a magazine that I would read were it better designed. Just a really atrocious magazine. It is called.....Tiger Beat! I used to buy Tiger Beat back in the day when the walls in my room were plastered with JTT posters and staying up until 9:00pm meant we had a cool babysitter. But the problem is this: I think these magazines look like shit and are a disrespect to the teeny boppers that read them. Just because the content is trash, doesn't mean that the magazine should look like trash. HOWEVER, I don't know if my design teacher will take me seriously if I hand in a project with the cast of Twilight on the cover.

Tomorrow I'm going to scan the shelves in the neighbourhood 7-11 in search of a respectable magazine in need of a facelift. And if I can't find one...then I need to find the perfect font to encapsulate just how totally HOT Miley Cyrus's fold-out poster is.

Thoughts

There's nothing quite like watching someone run after the bus. It's like an awkward little glimpse into their character.

It had to start somewhere

When I was a kid, someone told me a lie. A specific lie that lead to compulsive behaviour that lasted for years. I don't know who told me this lie or why it stuck with me, but someone once told me that if you found a mistake in a book, you could call the publisher, and you would get an award. I believed this person, and for years I would copyedit books as I read them. I still do. Back then it was an obsession. I can't remember when I found out that this "award" didn't exist, but I do remember that it blew my mind. It was like the time in grade five that my teacher corrected my spelling of the word "believe". I had been spelling it "belive" for my entire literate life. THAT blew my mind. I still remember feeling shocked and disgusted. I'm pretty sure that's when I became fixated on proper spelling. These just might be the reasons that I grew up wanting to be an editor.

Maximum Capacity

I've learned a lot being student again. I can spread takeout over 3 days of school lunches. I can get ready in the morning, eat breakfast, make coffee, check bus times, and get out the door in less than 15 minutes. I've learned that the motivational factor of Timbits outweighs anything and everything. I've also learned so much in my classes that it feels like my brain needs to stand up, stretch its legs, and take a big deep breath. We're nearing the end of one of our major projects and the days are getting longer and the mornings are getting earlier.

Despite my crammed schedule, the never-ending pages of readings, and my to-do list that has grown so quickly it must have discovered how to asexually reproduce...I'm continually trying to keep up with wedding planning on the side. Back at the end of August I told myself that I was putting the brakes on wedding planning until Christmas break, but any bride (or woman, for that matter) can tell you that it's impossible. There's no switch in your head that you can flick on and off, willy nilly, to block out invitation layouts and dress styles and centerpieces. I should also mention that Luc's older sister had a fabulous wedding this weekend that threw my brain into wedding overdrive.

So now, after telling myself to focus on school, start a wedding dress diet, and leave the planning until Christmas break, I'm sitting at the computer, eating a chocolate bar and fawning over flower arrangements and hotel options for our guests. Go team!

Derelicte

I have an objection with people who dress like slobs and carry designer handbags. I’m not a fashionista, and I don't live by a stringent set of couture codes, but I do think a Chanel purse coupled with a pair of inside-out, frayed sweatpants makes you look like a FOOL. Knowing that this getup is the outfit-equivalent of putting ketchup on a filet isn’t some kind of clandestine knowledge. I wouldn’t even call it a rule – just common sense. For instance, I know that if I’m wearing a gown, I’m probably not going to pair it with an old hoodie. Just like I wouldn’t wear a pearl necklace to the gym. Everyday sensibility. So the next time you see some crazy girl walloping a hobo over the head with a Louis Vuitton clutch, it’s just me trying to smack some sense into another lost soul.

Confessions

I bought a pair of Spanx to wear under the dress I'm wearing to Luc's sister's wedding this weekend - and then I put them on, looked in the mirror, had a hearty laugh at the lengths that we go to in order to look a certain way, and then I returned them.