The other night I went to see Touching the Void and Some Kind of Monster - back to back. A night of fantastic film, I must say. I won't critique because these aren't exactly new films and let's face it, there's nothing I can say that you haven't read online somewhere. But, I was happy.

Frazzled and interesting day at work. I was filmed in a hot air balloon and I was made into a cartoon. All in a day's work. I also get to write a script for an upcoming episode. So excited. And, wait for it, it's a fashion episode. Sometimes, despite all the smiting I obviously deserve - God tosses me a boner.

I ate a revolting lunch and I feel like puking. This too shall pass. Tonight I will go see an Oscar movie so I have some point of reference for when spend several hours mouth-breathing in front of the television this Sunday, taking in the 77th Annual Academy Awards.

Big plans, you know. Oh yes, and I need to get rich sooner than later. I had to colour a pair of ivory shoes with black marker because I have no black shoes. Fucking tragic. So, yeah. A cash flow would be cool.

My skin is prickling with mild anger today. Temper is shorter than usual and a big fat silverfish just strolled across my living room floor. If that isn't a big fuck you, I don't know what is. It's not the first time, the bastards are getting bolder. Very upsetting to me.

Give me something to look forward to.

i want to feel god/good.

to do so i may have to give up supernanny, wife swap and extreme makeover - home edition. it may all be too much to ask.

Oh, so much fun! Tonight I played drums in a long overdue jam session (funny - "jam session"). I can't even begin to tell you how great of a night I had. We only practiced for a couple of hours, but my arms hurt and my thighs ache and no one got pregnant.

Buying sticks this morning was an adventure too. I ran into the notorious and charming Yutai. We discussed the pros and cons of being a rawk superstar and the particular challenges poor drummers face. Namely, not being able to wear cool outfits and getting laid less than your bandmates. I came up with the idea of a completely transparent kit - so everyone can see your wicked oufit and a huge pedestal. Genius, right? To top it all off, my sticks were a gift. Didn't cost me a red cent.

Super fun to carry around drumsticks and have people mistake you for a "drummer". Most excellent day and night, all in all.

I want to take lessons. Expensive though. I need a patron.

Well, what do you know? I had the loveliest Valentine's Day. Delicious food, beautiful surroundings and attentive company... perfect. Oh, and let's not forget this not-so-little somethin' somethin' presented so nicely - pink ribbon and all!

But, this here (a portion of it, anyhoo) is my favourite gift.

I love this. Don't judge me.

I Hate My Parents

My nerves are shot tonight and I can't for the life of me figure out why. I have an apprehensive feeling in my stomach. Weird. No PMS, no extra-unusual stressors...who knows? Mind you, maybe it's a delayed reaction to a stressful start to the week. I spilled my guts, you see. So maybe that's the empty feeling I have in the belly. Not that speaking my mind was a bad thing. I feel huge relief. Perhaps this case of the nervous nellies has nothing to do with recent events. Or maybe it's the disgusting potato salad I ate at Rosies (shithole at Robson and Hamilton). Or maybe who gives a fuck, right?

Valentines Day approacheth. Let me tell you, this has never been a successful holiday for me. And, I assure you, we're not talking your typical lady-bitching about lack o' romance. I could tell you stories that would either make you feel very sorry for me or very smug - depends on the cut of your gib. But, let's not dwell. Valentines Day confuses me. I want to be above this heartbreaking holiday, but I'm not. And I hate that.

I did my nails tonight, and hoo-boy they look smart!

I need to read a book - my brain feels soft.

This fellow amuses me:

On a related note: people asking about my "vote for zombie joseph beuys" button and t-shirt are funny when they can't pronounce his name. Also: I'm a pretentious asshole, and it is fun.

You go read some more.

Below you will find photos of a shoot we did for ZeD last Friday night. The "premise" was that we were handing out "Zoscars". Clever, huh? Our role was to get in the limo, talk about the website and then get out. The evening ended with us getting dropped off many blocks from the CBC, so we had to walk all the way back dressed like street whores. Fun!



working the Zoscars 


ladies of the evening 


mink and muscles 

Here we are in the office, pre-limo shoot. Really, this is just to show off my new haircut. Let's be real.



lavish and lush (jarrett et moi)


haircutslut 

Another rainy Sunday evening and I haven't managed to step foot outside. I am very tired and unenthused today.

I finally finished reading "He's Just Not That Into You" (thank you again, Nadina). It really should have only taken me a few hours to read, but I decided to prolong the agony. What an aggravating book. Even though much of what's in there is presented in an embarrassing over-simplified way, the nasty truisms are hard to blow off. Amost every woman I know has read or is planning to read this book. Poor men. There will many upset women-folk insisting on sitting down for a talk. Call me an optimist or call me deluded but I still like to think things aren't as black and white and the authors of this silly little book would have us believe. There just HAS to be some grey.

I have to go return a movie and buy something for dinner. I need a coffee for this headache I feel a-creepin' up.

Stressed. Tired. Bored. Overwhelmed. Fed up in general. My list of things to do is terrfying because everything on there is potentially life-changing. Depressing to note that in modern times you're supposed to hire someone to listen to and to nurture you. You're supposed to find yourself a stranger who wears sedate pant suits and is practiced at making concerned eyecontact and knows when to make the right noises at the right time. A degree-holding, nice enough sort who places the box of Kleenex beside the synthetic leather armchair in an ominous fashion. Hard to imagine poor blue humans from yesteryear taking two buses to get themselves some of that. Boo hiss modern times.

Guess who is going to Nine Sinatra Songs? Yeah, thassright. Jealous much? Don't be rude - this is fun for me. And the best part...I'm going for free.

Oh and a funny aside:

Just moments ago I was watching Donald Trump on Conan while brushing my teeth with my electric toothbrush when I noticed that the picture on my television was all wonky. It honestly took me a full minute to figure out that it was my eyeballs vibrating from my toothbrush rather than my poor old console tv kicking the bucket. I'm awesome.

I rode my bike to work today. I was winded before one full revolution of the pedals. Tragical. I made it up the hill...just barely. And then thankfully I met a friend and was able to walk the chrome bastard (my bike, not my friend - hilarious). The ride home was much nicer. It was a gorgeous day here in Vancouver. Nothing like zipping along the seawall just before the sun goes down. Distracts one from collapsing lungs and skirts that ride up in the wind. All in all a nice end to a somewhat shitty day.

Before I go from here, let me tell you something that annoys the piss out of me. People who fancy themselves clever and funny when responding to another's strong opinion or outburst with, "Why don't you tell us what you really think?!" Oh, it's just makes my forehead tingle and my heart hurt. I wish there was someway to punish such behaviour.

But enough about me - I'm duller than some cliche or another, so go read what much more funner ladies from my links column are talking about : Wash it! Wash it! Wash it!

I used to think I disliked Lara Flynn Boyle. But then she packed on a few pounds and, most recently, did this.
She's alright.