Preface: In case you didn’t see in my last post, I went mental with the camera this weekend.  Prepare yourselves.

Since the wedding wasn’t due to start until around 3:00 pm, a crew of us decided to take a drive in the country and visit “Lake on the Mountain”, this lake that is on a mountain.

It sound mega-nerdly, but it was actually really weird to look one way and see a lake at ground level, then look another way and see a several hundred foot drop.  Then you start asking yourself all these questions like “How did the lake form?” “Is there a body of water that feeds it from BELOW???”  “Where did all the fish come from???”  SCIENCE!

So that took about five minutes then we decided to try and find this antiques store that we passed on the way in called “Dead People’s Stuff”, which sounded/looked awesome. 

We FOUND it!

Lots of cool stuff at actually REALLY good prices… but then I realized that I actually need no stuff right now.  Not even dead peoples’ stuff, which makes the stuff significantly cooler/more desirable.

So that took about five minutes and we were all like “LET’S GO DRINK!”.  So we found a patio on the “water” (read: swamp), and let our worries drown away in pints of cider.

Alright.  Enough of that.  Let’s get to the wedding.  T & A managed to find this AMAZING location that was a big old barn with a long back lawn, complete with a small covered outdoor tin-roofed wood structure with like, ivy growing all over it.  The ceremony took place in the tin-roofed thingie.  So simple and SO BEAUTIFUL.

FLARE!

 
Oh just some ADORABLE bunting here at the altar.

Alright, let’s cycle through some of my ONE MILLION pictures of the ceremony…

 
 HOLY MAKE ME CRY with your cuteness you two.

Alright, on to the reception, which was literally 50 feet up a beautiful lawn into a big old rustic barn.  But first champagne on the lawn in the beautiful weather.  Like, jesus crack-balls christ it was beautiful.

AND THEN THIS.

WHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?

Here is the only picture of me.  I had these grand ambitions of putting my hair up in these complex and bohemian-esque braids, but then due to laziness/drunkenness/lack of mirror space in B&B bathroom, I decided to go “au naturel”… which in retrospect meant looking like a cocker-spaniel all night. I’m sure that the INTENSE SUN on my hair made it look a bit more freakishly frizzy than it actually was, but still.  NEVER AGAIN.

Thank god I liked my dress, which was this rust-colour that I am currently obsessed with.  RUST-COLOUR!!!!!  Best.

Oh, and introducing the drunkest people of the evening, preparing for their evening of extreme drunkenness. 

So, I got a little emotional and went up to Amanda on the dance floor and was all like “MEEEEEEEEEH AMANDA THIS IS SO BEAUTIFUL (SOB) I’M SO HAPPY FOR YOU (SOB), YOU LOOK SO BEAUTIFUL (SOB), HOW DID YOU PLAN ALL THIS FROM ENGLAND (SOB) HOW DID YOU FIND THIS AMAZING PLACE (SOB)?”

And her totally amazing answer was “I googled “Ontario Barn Wedding.”   Coolest, most laid-back bride ever.

Preface: WHO LIKES PICTURES?  Your response better have been “ME ME ME OH GOD JESUS ME” because I went a little nuts with my DSLR and took about 75 jillion pictures over this weekend.  In my mind, I was all like “I am doing the Bride a favour because she will have this wonderful “DSLR-quality” record of EVERY SINGLE DETAIL of her wedding weekend”, but in reality I just like to pretend I’m a photographer because it makes me feel like a big man.  Enjoy!

I went up/down/whatever to Picton this weekend to celebrate the wedding of one of my favourite people.  Amanda and her now hubby travelled to England on a whim a few years ago with no place to live, no job, and no real prospects and then everything worked out amazingly because they are spontaneous and awesome and way more adventurous than I.

A few years later they are thriving and lovin’ life in Europe while I ROT HERE IN DAMN CANADA.  Just kidding.  I love Canada.  But I am sad that I have literally only lived within a 3 hour-drive radius of my birthing hospital for my whole life.  Seems like a sad state of affairs compared to my worldly and adventurous friend.  But enough about me.

Since Amanda and Tyler are SMART and AWESOME and LOVELY, they were able to plan their whole wedding while overseas drinking in English Pubs and shopping at The Kooples.

It turned out amazing.

Day one they invited all the guests to a wine-tasting in Picton.  Little-known-fact that Picton, just outside of Kingston, has a pretty sweet-ass wine region complete with wine to go in my mouth-hole.  I booked a room at some resort-cum-cottage-cum-B-and-B place called The Waring House, which is just outside of “downtown” Picton.  Very picturesque, in a “Southern Ontario Backwoods Slash Farmlands” kind of way… but maybe they should replace their stained carpets and clean their stinky bathroom drain.  (…is that bitchy?)

Here is some corn:

Here I am in said corn:

Since there was about 3 hours before check-in time, the Receptionist recommended a walk behind the resort through the old railroad tracks.  Corn on one side, forest and stuff on the other side… AND BUGS EVERYWHERE.  Tank top was not a good idea.  Full-body mosquito netting with full-body rolling plastic ball protection would have been a good idea.  Here is an artist’s rendition:

Anyhoo, after seeing the country, it was time to head over to the first winery – called “Sandbanks Winery” after “Sandbanks Park” which is named after the “sandbanks” in the park.  Which are named because they are like “banks” of “sand”.

As previously mentioned, I took a lot of photos.  Click on the thumbnail if you want to see it all big-like.

Next stop was Karlo Estates.  Seriously, this place was gorgeous.  Like, I busted my nut over and over and over.  Also, the wine was really good, AND they gave us cheese and nuts and sausages and other delicious things to eat while we tasted the wine.  The chick who was doing the tasting was a *bit* (read: FUCKING VERY) long-winded… and I was all sitting there being like “SHUT THE F UP I JUST WANT TO DRINK THE DAMN WINE.”

Anyways, other than that, I LOVED Karlo Estates. Through this tasting I also discovered that, when you are not 17 and trying to get drunk off your parents’ old-person liquor, Port can be delicious.

HERE ARE A MILLION PICTURES.

Karlo Estates also had this mortar-less bridge that is basically held up with no mortar, hence the name “mortar-less bridge”.  It allowed people to pose on something while drunk (see below).

Anyhoo, I was pretty drunk at this point, but the trip wasn’t over yet… we swung over to Huff Winery to drink copious amounts of sparkling wine as the sun set.  BEST EVER.

End scene.

Tomorrow I’ll take you through the actual wedding which was TOTALLY BEAUTIFUL.  Seriously.  You should check back.

Molly hates thunder.  She doesn’t freak out and get excited, but every time it starts to rain she just gets really quiet and sad and wants to come REALLY CLOSE TO MY FACE for some reason.  In the photo above, she is trying to keep her face one inch away from mine at all times.

Alternatively, she likes to be perched on my shoulder like a deformed smush-faced parrot and sit there with her ears back.  Despite being slightly annoyed that I literally could do nothing the whole time that the thunder was banging (due to my dog-shaped shoulder-growth), I was pretty much GUSHING with motherly happiness because I like to think that being close to her mommy makes her feel comfortable and safe.  I AM SO GOOD AT BEING A MOM (to small dogs when they are extremely scared and need human contact from anyone who is close to them).

Just thought I’d mention this because it makes me so happy that I almost plottzed: I HAVE HYDRANGEAS in my garden.  They just POPPED THE FUCK OUT OF NOWHERE and are all blooming in my face.  They are one of my absolute favourite flowers. and like, every time you go somewhere fancy they’re all like “HYDRANGEAS, HYDRANGEAS EVERYWHERE FOR FANCY PEOPLE!”  Unless you are Madonna.

In other news, a good friend from University is getting married this weekend and I’m totally looking forward to it because, in addition to the pure, innocent exchange of virginal nuptials, I have it under good authority that there will be copious amounts of wine and cheese entering my mouth-hole all weekend.  What else could a girl want?

We went out last weekend for her Bachelorette party.  To Crocodile Rock.  If you have not heard/been of/to Crocodile Rock… well… then… you still have a small piece of your innocence intact.  Good for you. 

Basically, if you are a:

1. Cougar;
2. Cougar-Fetishist;
3. 19-year old; or
4. 17-year old with a 19-year old’s ID

Then this is the place to be. 

It wasn’t as bad as it could have been because the people I was with were awesome and I decided to wear orangey-red lipstick which makes me happy.  However, in hindsight it makes me look like a craggly old potato-faced witch… so I’m either going to have to re-think this whole lipstick thing, or I’m going to have to come to terms with the face that when I wear lipstick I will only be approached by blind ugly men. 

Here Nicole says “I have two beers, and do a pouty face.”

Here Nicole says “I have two beers and I do a sexy “both beers in my mouth at the same time” face.”

Oh Nicole, you so crazy.

In order to overcome the shock of being at Crocodile Rock, as well as the realization that I looked like a drowned rat with orangey-red lips, I decided to go to the bar by myself and have three whiskey shots.  Which rapidly pulled the evening into a downward spiral, culminating in the following:

Just so you can appreciate what I mean when I say I can eat A LOT… let me tell you what I purchased and consumed from McDonald’s:

• Quarter Pounder
• Supersized Fries
• 10 Nuggets
• An additional Quarter Pounder
• An additional “medium” fries
• Filet-o-fish

Yes.  I ate it all.  I ATE IT ALL!!!!!!!!!!  TREMBLE AT MY FEET, YOU WEAK ‘SINGLE COMBO’ EATERS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  I SHALL SOON CRUSH YOU ALL WITH MY HUGE FRENCH-FRY FED THIGHS!

Had to whisk off to NYC for a couple of days last week.  I don’t want to milk this too much, but I’m pretty blown away that I have the type of life where I WHISK OFF TO NYC for a couple of days. 

Here is an important thing to know – at the Pearson Starbucks they do not toast their bagels.  So they taste like gluey flavoured pieces of seed-infested dough.

BLURG.

Anyways.  I have acute paranoia about missing flights, so of course I left three hours before I had to take off.  This means that I spent about 2 hours and 45 minutes oscillating between sitting awkwardly pretending to have things to do on my phone at the gate, and wandering to the bathroom.  Hey – did you know that very few people update their Instagram feeds at 6:00 am on a Wednesday?  HA HA HA.  Now you know.

FYI if I have you on facebook I likely stalked the shit out of you that morning.  Don’t be weirded out if I bring up some obscure reference to a photo from party you attended in 2006 the next time we see each other.

The GOOD news about the wait is that I went into the duty free shop and bought some orangey-red lipstick and tried to wear it for my whole trip.  You know, “New York Natalie” styles.

So I was in NY for two days this time instead of one and I happened to have a whole FIVE HOURS at my disposal to go ape-shit in the city and do whatever I wanted all by myself.  It was luxurious.  However, with the scope of things to do in NY being what they are, I concluded that I had to be super anal in order to maximize the enjoyment of my five hours and planned out my route accordingly:

Note that the letters are going in the opposite direction of my route.  First, Madewell, of course.  I was obsessive about visiting there because all of my purchases up in the ‘shopping third-world’ of Canada were on-line.  The dress below was tried on for Tami:

NOTE THE ORANGEY-RED LIPSTICK.

Tami – it’s not as nice as I thought it would be… the fabric was like a cheap-ass burlap and the waist made me look like a pregnant Oompa-Loompa.  I wasn’t as blown away with Madewell as I thought I would be. 

Next stop – Levi’s Store.  Bought a pair of boyfriend jeans for $25.00 and a pair of high-waisted waxed black skinnies.

A-Balls had suggested Creatures of Comfort, so I moseyed on over there next.

Granted, everything was gor-ge-ous.  But it was also very very expensive.

Terrariums everywhere.

I had about $200.00 budgeted for shopping, and since the only thing at Creatures that cost less than $200.00 was like, a white undershirt, I didn’t buy anything.

The plan was to head on over to Freemans for a long, luxurious, three-course expensed dinner, but I found a little boutique on the way and bought this shirt:

I love it – all oversized with raw hems and stuff.  I’M SO EDGY. 

Note that two days later in Toronto I found the exact same shirt at a store literally half a mile from my house. 

Anyways, off to Freemans…  down the magical alleyway…  pass by the hipster barber shop where drop-dead gorgeous men cut the hair of other drop-dead gorgeous men…

Oh, hai fancy drink.

Some people hate eating dinner by themselves, but I LOVE IT.  I can order whatever I want and NO ONE CAN JUDGE ME.  Also, I get to people-watch and muse philosophical about why people are at the restaurant and what their lives are like.  Like these guys:

I assumed that they were there on a dinner break from a dress rehearsal of a stage production of Easy Rider.  Obviously.

Freemans was pretty awesome, although not really different from all restaurants in T.O. with the same “antlers on the wall” type vibe.  The bathroom had a gardening wall in it.

Oh, hai cheese plate.

What are those things in the little ramekin?  Why, zombie strawberries, of course.

Braaaains.

Seared Tuna Special with chickpeas and sauteed citrus.  Yes, it was delicious.

Since I get to expense my meals, and since I am a big fatty who enjoys eating food, I also got the Bananas Foster.  HAAAAAAAAAAA HA HA HA!

I had an early dinner because I am a crotchety old woman, which meant that stores were still open when I left Freemans.  I thought I would wobble over to Opening Ceremony to revel in clothing that was several strata above my price range.

I had about four drinks at dinner, which made me feel invincible as I poked through the racks. 

In my ‘mind’s eye’ I felt as if I was a high class and elegant connoisseur of designers, flipping though the racks with the skill of a fashion editor.

In ‘reality’ I probably looked like a skeezy drunk tripping over racks of expensive designer clothes and touching everything with my grubby hands.

On the way home I decided that a three course meal wasn’t enough to satiate my gorilla-man hunger, and I bought a red velvet cupcake or whatever they’re called.  It fell over in the bag and the icing got all smushed.

Then I decided to take a bath, as I often do when staying in a fancy hotel.

Although I’m sure you are imagining a very sultry and alluring spectacle in which I am in the bath, all bubbly and slick and what-not, in reality it was more like this:

Me eating a messy, melting, fatty-bo-batty cupcake and drinking a cheap-ass beer.

Tomorrow, read on as I get mistaken for a prostitute by an 85-year old man.  The fun never stops.

Went to P-Hops’ place (well, P-Hops’ and Franc’s place now…) for a BBQ as a “joining together of our stuff into one place”-type housewarming celebration thingie.  They set everything up so nicely and the food was deelishious.  Unfortunately I was raging hungover because apparently I don’t realize I should probably become a responsible adult like everyone else, and I was out until 3:00 am the night before challenging 200 pound men to drinking contests.   However, the delicious hot dogs and salad were just the cure for my morning after “I-want-to-die-itis”.

These two are officially the cutest in the world.

It was a very laid back afternoon, mostly because everyone there was so, you know… laid back.

How cute are these guys?  Little candid shot of them being all private and smiley together. 

Oh Pam.  How I wish I could wear short shorts like you do.

Holden was there, being bad-ass with his truck.  There was some concern that we had accidentally gotten him drunk on the “beer battered onion” in the potato salad… results were inconclusive.  But he was definitely enjoying livin’ life.

Freak-o hairless cat kept a close eye on us from the second-floor window, where the other tenants live.  Everyone was giving freak-o cat a hard time because of his freakishness, but I feel bad for him.  It’s not his fault he’s a freak.

Anyhoo, after my two hot dogs, multiple servings of salad, and a freezee, I went back home to collapse and continue recovering from my epic hangover while watching Game of Thrones.  Molly joined in.

DID ANYONE SEE THE EPISODE LAST NIGHT?  MEGA-HUUUUUGE!!!   Holy fuck I love that show.

The long weekend was caliente to the extreme, and I think it’s safe to say that summer is totally, completely, officially here. 

I think we all knew this was going to happen, but TB park was so saturated with people it looked like a hipster refugee camp.  So of course I got all gussied in my wannabe Amy Winehouse doo-rag, retro Vuarnet France-esque tank,  and new Supers, and sat in the sun with some girls and one special little guy.

I also spent some time drunk and passed out with wet hair at a pool while smoking cigars and accidentally taking unflattering “forgot my iPhone camera was set to the side facing me”  pictures of myself with a crinkle-neck.

Apparently my deck is a perfect sunbathing spot.  Why?  Because it is basically bathed in full “center-of-the-sun” level heat for 10 hours straight.  Things got a little hot.

Molly wanted to be one of the girls and got her tan on.

THEN THIS HAPPENED:

It’s too hot.

Also spent time gardening.  About three hours.  And barely anything looks changed. 

WHY did I work in the garden for three hours with minimal results?  Mostly because of these stupid, small clover-weed things.   ARGH!  They are such little bitches.  You have to sit on your knees and pull out each little damn mini-clover plant by hand for HOURS AND HOURS AND HOURS.  I hate them so much.

Although these peonies have me plottzing with excitement…

Molly had a tough weekend because the new place doesn’t have air conditioning… I think I’m going to have to get a window-mounted one for the bedroom because she is totally listless and unhappy in the heat.  However, she did meet a new boyfriend neighbour on holiday Monday.  These two spent a scandalous amount of time rolling around and presenting their private parts to each other in doggie ecstasy.

First things first – here is a garden update.  So many little things just casually busting out everyday being all like “Yo.  It’s me.  Blue flower.”.  I think that first one might be bluebells?  Meh?  Do you know?  I certainly don’t.

Apparently this is Columbine.  I know because my neighbour told me.  She was all like “Oh!  Look at the Columbine!” and I was all like “Meh?”

Here is a yellow poofer flower.  Sorry it’s not entirely in focus.  I assure you it is even more impressive when it is fully in focus.  I don’t know what that one is either.  It’s not a peony, because now I know what the peonies look like (those bad boys are budding up sumfin fierce, BTW).  Do you know?  Meh?

Here is a flower I like to call “purple explosion flower”, due to it’s explosion of mini flowers that form one larger explosion flower. 

Every day there is something new popping out of that garden.  I left it for like, 3 days when it rained and it’s already virtually overgrown with weeds.  Like seriously – maintaining that shizz is a full-time job.  I think this weekend I’m going to plant some annuals to make it look a little more “planned” and less “crazy flower explosion mess”.

After feeling satisfied with my gardening ability (slash standing around taking pictures of other peoples’ gardening ability), I decided to head to The Rhino for some drinks and food.  It is quickly becoming my favourite patio in the new hood.  Mostly because it is a big patio with direct view of the street so I can spy on people while drinking, which is pretty much what I want to do all hours of the day.

I am drinking a blueberry wheat beer.  I know.  So girly.  Get off my back, ok?  JUDGE-Y.  It was delicious. 

Here is a sparrow or finch or something who clearly derives 100% of his sustenance by picking food off of peoples’ plates on the Rhino patio.  This fucker was brave.   He would like jiggle-walk right up to your plate and look at you, cock his head with his intense “looking-into-your-soul” bird eyeballs, then bristle out his feather Mohawk as if to be like “YEAH?  What the fuck are you looking at?  I’m going to eat your shit and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

This is what I’m calling “Brunch #1″.  It is called “lava eggs” and it was delicious.  But since I am basically a hippopatamus-woman who can eat more than Andre the Giant, I decided that this was not enough, and after two more beers, I ordered “Brunch #2″.

While waiting for Brunch #2, this fucker started walking right up to my hand and just stealing shit out of it.  I was pretty impressed.  Just saying.

After about another 30 minutes, Brunch #2 still hadn’t arrived.  I was pretty drunk and I started chanting in my head “BRUNCH NUMBER TWO!  BRUNCH NUMBER TWO!” 

Then it came.

Awwwwww yeah brunch #2.

Speaking of food, I went back to the old hood in Trinity this weekend to take the dogs to the park and stopped by Clafouti to get something buttery and delicious.  Look how awesome this looks.  I assure you, it tasted even better.

Molly and Olive came on a merry jaunt to the dog bowl and went mental chasing sticks and eating poos and rolling around in pees.  Olive was a big suck and didn’t want to walk home.

Before you chastise me for torturing Pam’s dog – I assure you she is fine… we were in the park for about 15 minutes tops, I gave her a bunch of water, a big rest, and we paused frequently on the walk home.  She clearly just wanted me to pick her up and kept flopping down and looking up at me with her wrinkle-face.

In other news I am SO EXCITED because St. Germain is back in stock at the LCBO.  If you haven’t had it before, go get that shit right now.  It’s this elderflower liquor that is basically a cross between true love and unicorn sweat.  They only get two shipments a year, and seriously… this stuff is the best.

Here is a recipe that I made up due to my large brain.  I call it “Natalie’s Sweet and Sour Love Nectar”

1 part Jack Daniels
2 parts St. Germain
Splash of Lime Juice
Drop of Agave Nectar

YOU’RE WELCOME.

Here is my dog being perfect:

Here I am waiting to get a soft-serve cone.  You know… basically, eating.  Again.

I love the pictures below.  The one on the left is amazing because it has so many things I love in it.  The one on the right is amazing because Molly is being a perfect lady.  This only happens when she smells cheese in the vicinity.  Just like me, she is powered by cheese.

Here is an example of a perfect banana:

Unless you are a 14-year-old girl, or Lana Del Ray, you might not have a real comprehension of duckface yet. 

Basically, it’s when a chick tries to look serious in a photo, but worries that she doesn’t look hot enough, so she does this weird thing with her lips to make her cheekbones jut out and make her lips look gross and puffy.  It’s kind of the watered-down version of blow-job lips. 

Anyways, A-Balls hadn’t heard about duckface yet, and we were trying to explain it to her at dinner, which is actually surprisingly hard when you don’t actually have a photo of someone doing duckface.  This spiraled into a series of duckface attempts, and an insatiable desire to ensure that she mastered the art of duckface.

Here is the progression of our grasshopper as she blossoms into a beautiful adult duckface.

Attempt #1
Instruction: “You have to like, push your lips together and be all serious”
Aidan’s Interpretation: ”Depressed girl in the corner.”

Attempt #2
Instruction: “Don’t look sad!  Try to look like you’re all pouty”
Aidan’s Interpretation: “Blowing on the reed of an invisible clarinet”

Attempt #3
Instruction: “Push your lips all far out!  You know, like a stupid 14-year old girl.”
Aidan’s Interpretation: “TEXTBOOK DUCKFACE!!!!”

Please see below for an analysis of Aidan’s duckface:

Truly, she has become a duckface master, surpassing even her teachers’ abilities in duckfacery.

This is amazing.  From here.

 I took fewer pictures than I should have this weekend.  I should have taken it upon myself to capture the pure, magical, sunshine-induced love fest that was festering all over the city.  But I didn’t and now you’ll have to trust my description.

I spent hours at a St. Patrick’s day party on Saturday, and of course, took no pictures.  The only picture I took was in the hardware store across the street, where I ran drunkenly at 3:00 pm in a mad frenzy because I had lost my hammer somewhere the day before and needed to hang a picture IMMEDIATELY when I returned home, and thought that this would be the only time I would have to go buy a hammer.  I know.  It makes no sense to me either.  But then I saw this at the cash register and I thought it was hilarious:

Anyways.  that was the only picture from Saturday.  I basically got wasted, ate a trough of Vietnamese food, and fell asleep at like 7 pm.

Then Sunday.

Oh Sunday.

You make me so happy with your sunny, sunny bordering-on-sexual love for me.

First, remember my garden?   The out-of-control mystery garden that I spent some time cleaning up in the fall?  Well, I still have no idea what is planted in there, but this week I started to see evidence of fantastic flower-planning.

So Sunday morning I spent some time clearing away the old dead leaves, like a good little domestic girl, and my garden is already the envy of the entire neighbourhood.  AND I’VE BARELY DONE A THING.

SO MANY CROCUSES, just poppin’ their heads out, being all perfect and beautiful, bein’ all like “Whatever.  I’m in your garden.”  I can see hyacinths creeping up, too, and a whole bunch of other plants that I know nothing about.  Finally, remember the tulip bulbs I planted in an effort to feel like I was contributing something? 

They are busting through the ground with so much intensity, they are CRACKING PLANET EARTH IN HALF.

Then, I hung out with Sarah and Lauren in Trinity Bellwoods.  You know, just basking in the sun, eye-humping hipsters, and drinking super-wienery beer.

And then I ate two gigantic sausages with sauerkraut, ketchup, mustard, and relish, and drank a whole bunch of Anchor Steam.

What a day.