I don’t care that I’m still sick, or that I’m at work, or that it’s snowing and cold and I don’t have matching gloves so I had to wear a mismatched pair this morning, and one of the VPs saw me in my mismatched gloves, or that the project I’m working on is turning into a big fart cloud, or that I look horrible today and my outfit makes me look like I’m an elephant on safari with bad hair.
Because my J. Crew order arrived.
Friday started with some good old fashioned Hanukkah partying at Tami’s house, where she cooked up a smorgasbord of delicious Jewish cuisine. Like seriously, as soon as I walked in the house, I was accosted with the smell of delicious food stuffs, including yummy latkes…
…fantasiche vegan stuffed cabbages…
…and some of the best matzo ball soup I have ever consumed. I didn’t take a picture of the soup because I ate it so fast that the picture would have just been an indiscernible blur of bowl and hands and mouth.
Mr. Holden also participated in his first Hanukkah – he particularly enjoyed the dreidels.
The dreidel apparently looked like a big piece of blue candy.
In Holden’s defense – who can honestly say they haven’t tried to eat a dreidel over the course of their life? No one. No one can honestly say that.
On Christmas Eve, Molly had a Christmas adventure where she played with a Schnoodle puppy for about 6 hours straight. For some reason I didn’t take any pictures of that. I did, however, take multiple pictures of her sleeping after her adventure, on my favourite teak chair:
I had purchased a couple of big, over-sized stuffed Boston Terriers to give to my niece and nephew for Christmas.
Molly fucking hated them so much. As soon as she caught a look at them, she freaked out and tried to kill them. I like to think that she was jealous of them because she wants to keep me all to herself. Here she is trying to give them the death-stare:
The good news is that my niece and nephew loved them…
…and tried to ride them like horses on the hardwood floor.
I love how my niece does this huge grin-smile-freak-out-face when you ask her to smile:
It’s like she’s trying SO. HARD. to smile that her face is exploding. Awesome.
Here she is with regular-face:
Anyhoo, the next day I got SO SICK that I threw up everywhere for hours and spent the whole day in bed, wishing I was dead. The good news is that the light shining through my stained glass window was all sparkly:
And, Molly was still super tired and snuggled with me under the covers. Best.
Thank Jebus the holidays are (almost) over. I’m ready for summer now.
This holiday kind of sucked. I was so so so so so busy for the whole month – every weekday I was up until the wee hours doing work because for some reason this is the busiest month of work in the history of man, then on the weekends, I had non-stop parties like a damn coked-out socialite (minus the coke), that I think I pushed my body to the limit and it crapped out on me like an old Dodge Neon and I’ve been SO sick for the last two weeks.
My fantastic holiday culminated on Boxing Day with a barrage of vomiting so violent, that I actually lost 3 pounds. Sorry. Gross. I know.
And now, it’s the Wednesday before New Year’s and I’m a WORK for some reason, because our office is OPEN for some reason, and I’m still sick and I want to sleep and I hate everyone.
The one thing I DON’T hate is my vintage LL Bean flecked wool fisherman’s sweater. You keep me all cozy in your flecky wooled goodness. Mmmmmmm.
Hopefully now, I can relax for a little bit. Even though I’m sick. And even though I’m at work. And even though work shows no signs of slowing down. And even though next week is New Year’s then I have a wedding the weekend after…
Ok, so I tried to keep the “homemade gifts” thing going from last year, but this year was SO busy and I wanted to shoot myself in the face, and I didn’t get as much done as I wanted to.
That being said, I managed to make some
ugly fun little gifts for some friends by using this handy DIY from Design*Sponge. Now, it seems like a cute idea, and I tried my best, but after it was all said and done, I kind of felt like I was 7 years old and giving my friends a picture of my hand cut out on a paper plate with sparkly macaroni on it.
Anyhoo, the best one I made was with this really thick 1″ twisted manila rope…
First, you use a bunch of glue and glue it…
Then, you utilize even more glue and just keep gluing…
And then, you glue…
And then you have a bowl.
Now, I felt that one single glue-and-rope bowl was clearly not enough to warrant a full present, so I went with a smaller “nested” bowl on the inside.
Note: the size of the rope needs to correspond to the size of the bowl. Because if you use thin rope to make a big bowl, it will look like a pile of smashed shit. Trust me.
Anyhoo, here is the smaller bowl being glued…
And here they are, all nested together.
I made a whole bunch of these, to varying degrees of success, but this set was by far the nicest, mostly due to the thick 1″ twisted manila rope. I bought 15 feet of it, thinking that I would be able to make three or four rope-and-glue bowls with it. FYI – 15 feet of 1″ twisted manila rope makes ONE rope-and-glue bowl.
In order to be “cool and different” in my rope-and-glue bowl craft adventures, I also tried to deviate from the Design*Sponge recommendation of twisted paper rope and make a couple of bowls using nylon diamond-braided rope.
I thought that the black and red and yellow diamond pattern would turn out all cool and look like a big ol’ coiled snake or something like that.
But then, after it was made, someone told me “that is one fucking ugly bowl”, and I became embarrassed. And I decided to not give my snake-rope-and-glue bowl to anyone.
If you want my snake-rope-and-glue bowl, let me know.
Anyways, I apologize to everyone who received my rope-and-glue bowls for a present and had to pretend they liked it, much like when you get a paper cut out of a 7 year-old’s hand pasted onto a paper plate with sparkly macaroni on it and you have to pretend you like it and put the horrible disaster on your fridge for two weeks to make the child feel better.
I KNOW. It’s Thursday. Get off my back. I’ve been sick and work’s been crazy.
This weekend was another jam-packed, holiday-freak-out bonanza. Either I’m much more popular than I was last year, or I’m just a frigging old lady, but it seems like I’m on a neverending drunk-hungover-drinking-drunk cycle that is tearing my body apart.
On that note, Friday started with a more formal company holiday party. Because I wanted something new to wear, I bought these snakey necklaces from Club Monaco and wore them as a bracelet. I love them.
Then I drank a whole bunch of white wine. Then I drank this stuff called “glug”, which is like, brandy and wine and port and cloves and syrup and stuff, and it’s all warmed up so that you get drunk faster…
…and when I moved on over to the Parkdale Festivus later that night, it was apparent how effective the glug can be…
Friday ended somehow in some way… I don’t recall.
Saturday I had to get my shit together and get ready for an all-day, all-night bachelorette party. This is what I wore:
The theme was “cougars”, which was actually horrifying, because I’m literally feeling like a cougar lately. AND the bar we went to had nubile, slutty 19-year-olds at it (more on that later). I contributed to the theme by wearing a silk snakeskin button-up. And showed virtually no skin. Which made me feel less cougaresque. And glasses. Even less cougaresque.
We went to the spa, where I was so hungover that I wanted to projectile vomit everywhere. But my bachelorette friends were insightful enough to realize that my cure lay in a huge glass of champagne, which I chugged like the classy cougar I am.
Here I am at dinner with some other girls, already drunk and watching videos of Max Steel on my phone.
I was also wearing a bandage skirt, which is like wearing a really really really tight tensor bandage around your lower half. So say, if you were to eat a plate of ribs and a double baked potato…
And like, hypothetically, if you were to drink 3 “Texas Sized” Ceasars along with said dinner…
…then, hypothetically, with all that tensor-bandage tension, you would feel so horrendous that you would want to projectile vomit everywhere.
But of course, I was a trooper, and I pulled my shit together and we made it to the next stop, which was a karaoke bar. For those of you who have been
unlucky fortunate enough to watch/hear me at karaoke, you will appreciate the magic that ensued for the lucky bachelorette.
Apparently, I am the WORST at picking karaoke songs. Here I am singing “Signs” by the Five Man Electrical Band, which no one else appreciated as much as I did. As you can see. I mean, SIGNS? The song selection book was the size of a medieval bible. There were THOUSANDS of songs that I could have selected. And I chose the song “Signs”.
The evening soon turned into an “ALL WEEZER ALL THE TIME” karaoke festival, which suited me just fine.
Then, I decided to bust out my dance moves in my socks.
Let’s take a closer look at this gem, shall we?
I believe this move is called “reverse-alligator-chomp-hands-slash-robot-bow-slash-ashamed-face”
Anyhoo, we continued to drink at the kareoke bar, where drinks were extremely reasonably priced. That meant that at the last stop, I was feeling like I was going to projectile vomit…
But I held my shit together and we got to El Convento Rico, which is a drag-bar/Jersey-Shore-skank-bar/desperate-old-men-looking-for-pussy bar.
Remember my outfit? Scroll up if you do not. I did not fit in with the rest of the girls at this bar:
In case you need a legend:
That being said, the drag queen show was totally fun:
Here I am taking a picture of myself next to a ballon:
Here I am taking a picture of myself next to a ballon with someone trying to pick my nose off-camera:
Anyways. I had a great time, bras, panties, and fishnets aside. But the night didn’t end there. Last stop was Lakeview at 3:00 am to get two Easy Risers (that’s Kingston-speak for breakfast sandwiches):
I was overcome with silliness due to my fatigue/drunken stupor, and I became obsessed with the hilarious observation that they looked like boobs.
Ah yes. Adulthood.
I’m still sick today and I’m making gross coughing and gurgling sounds and trying to keep my shit together. To motivate me to get out of bed and come to work, I decided to wear this weird-kimono-shawl-wrap thing that I got at Goodwill last week. It’s basically a big blue kimono that’s all big and flowy and I can wrap myself in it like a big cocoon.
Also, it seems very well-made, and although there is no brand label on the inside, there is a materials label along the seam that has European sizing and it says “MADE IN FRANCE”. So, of course, I assume that this is a designer item that was very expensive. Because, I mean, isn’t it expensive to make things in France? And like, aren’t all the expensive designers in France and Italy? And, it’s weird enough of a garment to be all desginery and French.
SO YEAH. TOTALLY EXPENSIVE DESIGNER CLOTHING ITEM.
This is the day I started getting really sick. Can you see in my face how much I hate life? Yeah. It sucked. I tried to spruce up my mood with some light colours and wintery textures, but really I just wanted to curl up with some Neo Citran and pass out under my desk.
Couple-a new items for the house. Since my housewarming and holiday parties, I’ve started to loose a little steam. I mean I’m checking craigslist like, once a day instead of 58 times a day. But I still had the opportunity to pick up some sweet pieces last week.
First, I became totally and completely obsessed with purchasing a cow skull to mount in my loft. I mean, the decor it’s pretty western-y… I guess… but it lacked the full-on “crazy-person-accessory” to westernize it beyond all recognition.
Let me preamble this by mentioning that you can’t get a cow skull in a retail store in Toronto for less than like, $300.00. That equals bullshit, so I set a goal to buy a cowskull using my super developed search and negotiating skills like a bad-ass mutherfucka.
So first, I look on craigslist, of course, and I find some guy out in Etobicoke who is selling his cow skull for like $150.00. So I email him, fully planning to offer him around $100.00 or $120.00. Then he comes back to me and says there is a bidding war on his damn cowskull and the new asking price is $350.00. So I email him back and say “suck my choda” and decide to look elsewhere.
As mentioned on several previous occasions, I have been blessed the super-human ability to exploit the internet, and after days of scouring, I found a huge 3 foot cow skull for $50.00 from Texas. Shipping was $30.00. So that baby was $80.00 inclusive. Plus it was expertly modeled by a midriff-baring woman wearing a steer-wranglin’ hat. I mean, how could I say no to that??
You would think that a real cow skull with bones and DNA and possible bugs living in its eye-socket-holes and shit would have problems crossing the border, because when I order fucking pants from J Crew it takes the border officials 10 days to mull over whether or not I’m a terrorist. You know – a terrorist ordering poo-green pants from J Crew.
But no. The COW SKULL crossed the border in record time, and I had it in my paws within about 5 days of payment.
I was concerned that it was a fake because I got such a good deal. But hellz no. This bad boy is a real skull from a real cow, all bleached in the sun for weeks and weeks.
Only catch was that the horns were removed for shipping. I had to re-screw them and wrap the rope around them myself. But since I’m bad-ass hardcore, I screwed that shit in like an expert.
Yes. Now I am a fully crazy person with multiple skulls adorning her living room. SKULLS SKULLS EVERYWHERE!!!
In addition to the crazy-person skull, I also managed to score this fantastic mid-century space-man chrome ball-light at the Public Butter:
Now crazy-ball space lamps from the 60s/70s are in surprisingly high demand, and I have been looking for one on and off for a little while. It’s hard to find one for less than a few hundred bones, so when I saw this down the street I got excited.
But not so excited when I saw the price tag:
I mean, fine. I was originally $350.00… and now it’s $175.00… but:
- $175.00 is still way too much for me to buy an un-needed lamp on a whim; and
- I’m pretty sure that when Public Butter has their 50% off sale, they just mark everything up, so I don’t think I was getting a huge deal.
Now, I have my ways when negotiating. (And no. It does not involve sexual favours, you pervert. Besides, any sexual favours I could provide would likely not amount to much value. Due to my extreme awkwardness. And now things are even more awkward because I said that… damn)
So I decided to be my wiley self and try and see if I could negotiate that bad boy down a few bucks. We tried out the lamp in a socket… and lo and behold, two of the sockets were defective and needed to be replaced. I hemmed and hawwed and hemmed and hawwed and pushed.
AND I GOT THE LAMP FOR $50.00. So hardcore.
Look at her, all spacey and chromey. She’s going to artify one of my rooms all up like crazy. Now I just have to figure out how to re-wire light sockets and I’ll be golden. Or chrome. As it were.
Ok, so I’ll tell you about the weekend in a bit. But first, just because it made me so so so so happy, let me post about the 2 hours of time I actually spent to myself on Saturday morning. For two full hours, I had no commitments, no engagements, no dates to keep… just two hours of time that I could spend doing whatever I wanted. This hasn’t happened in like three weeks.
The gods cooperated and decided that I should bask in my lack of responsibility with some delicious sunshine.
Molly is obsessed with sunbeams, as I’m sure I’ve mentioned…
When faced with two hours of free time and a snuggly dog, I will invariably decide to do this: