anything you want (not that).

Thanks to a new haircut, a love note in my inbox, and some insightful advice that really has put things into perspective... I'm now temporarily sitting at a 7.3 in terms of mood. Actually, I'm enjoying a scone & a coffee at Ella's Uncle, so I'm more like at a 9.5. Although, I'm sure as soon as I step foot back out in the snow and back into my apartment that is in absolute desperate need of a tidy-slash-overhaul, I'll ignore the dishes and wine stains on the hardwood and crawl right back into bed.

I'm feeling pretty positively about my bob. I have Jesse at the Grateful Head to thank for that.

And thank you to Richard for the kind-hearted note this morning, If you weren't gay, or in Winnipeg, I'd kiss you right on the lips.

**EDIT: I'm still under a five. The 9.5 was an illusion after three large coffees and a goat cheese scone. I feel awful and horrible, but I still feel great about my short hair.

holding on to that teenage feeling.

The Russian Judge says...




Today I feel approximately like a 2.4. Partly because of a hangover, and partly because I was hung out to dry, I'm trying to muster up the energy and luster to tell myself "It'll all be okay"!

It will all be okay, for I am one resilient spring chicken that will bounce back. And with a great new haircut, at that.

Fuck me, I have to be miserable sometime.

Soon, I'm going to get over myself & walk in the boots with the holes in them over to Loverboy's with a tupperware container full of chicken noodle, with new broth that I fashioned myself in half an hour with and isn't awful.

I'm a good cook. My hair is nice. I'm a good girlfriend. I'm a good non-girlfriend. I use unbleached paper towel. I don't have a soul; I am a soul, I have a body. I'm pretty thoughtful at times. I appreciate when my friends do nice things for one another. I tell girls when I like their dresses and it makes them happy. I don't like kareoke, but I appreciate that others do AND THAT'S OKAY. I'm a good person. My job is lucky to have me and I am lucky to have them.

It's all gonna be okay!

On the bright side, I not only just saw an episode of Law & Order with Gary Busey guest-starring, but I also am currently watching an episode of SVU I've never seen before. It's starring a really startlingly good-looking black man.

It's snowing. Usually I love a good snowstorm, a white winter, but my "new" (read: Value Village) boots are apparently not even Toronto-winter-worthy. My left boot has sprung a leak and I am constantly wet & cold.

School is hard. No matter how good of a cook I know I am, my beady-eyed Scottish professor is a really, really tough marker and having a low grade (even if it is the second highest in the class) is driving me nuts. Hard is good, granted. I think the 7am classes are just getting to me.

I miss my best friends. I don't necessarily miss Winnipeg, but there's constantly things I see and do every day that I wish they were here for.

A cute guy asked me out on a date (thing) tonight. I originally had said yes, but I'm too miserable and cynical today to be on best first-date behaviour. Also, I'm smitten with Loverboy. Unfortunately, I'm starting to doubt the return of his ador. I can't even write openly about this shit in my own blog. Aforementioned Loverboy reads it.

I lost a mitten today. Well, a wool sock that was acting as a mitten because..

I am really, truly poor. I have been eating carrots from a 10lb bag that I bought two weeks ago. I am now almost out. Fortunately, my parents will be sending me some grocery money for February. Unfortunately, it's not enough. I need to work, and I'm not getting the shifts I need. I also don't have the energy to look for a new job.

I picked up chicken soup at Prague on my way home from class for Loverboy who is currently recovering from a bout of food poisoning. I put it down on the floor to take off my boots. The broth poured out onto the hardwood. That's what I get for cutting corners and not making it myself.

I'm miserable and in an awful mood and could use some cheering up.

don't know if i'm comin' or goin'.

Basically, I think this is pretty great.

Basically, I'm going to find a boyfriend. Who's with me?

soul clappin' (slap choppin')

I make melt-in-your-mouth buttermilk biscuits.



I also, apparently, am so distracted by my new love for the internet that I burned not only my dinner, but also the buttermilk biscuits I was planning to leave outside Loverboy's door. I can't justify the walk in the apocalyptic cold just to leave a polaroid tacked to the door.

However, in hindsight, that may have been cuter.

Damn.

waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Today I got a text message from Papa Wilton informing me that the company I work for has cut 1,400 jobs this month and also closed one of their major call centres in Pennsylvania and a distribution centre in Tennessee. A quick google upon my return home from my aforementioned job site (and the only shift i've had in weeks) has confirmed this.

Although I haven't gotten the axe yet, I noticed on the schedule today that I am one of the only seasonal sales employees that are still on it. I can only assume that I'm next, despite the joie de vivre I bring to the electrics section.

I suppose that's what I get for selling out for the man.

born to live with heartache.

May I present to you ladies & gentleman of the world wide internet, my lifeblood & reason for living; Katie Kidder. Girl inspires more heartfelt love songs than anyone I know. She also enjoys Law & Order:SVU almost as much as I do. What a catch.

having a coke with you.

...is even more fun than going to San Sebastian, Irún, Hendaye, Biarritz, Bayonne
or being sick to my stomach on the Travesera de Gracia in Barcelona
partly because in your orange shirt you look like a better happier St. Sebastian
partly because of my love for you, partly because of your love for yoghurt
partly because of the fluorescent orange tulips around the birches
partly because of the secrecy our smiles take on before people and statuary
it is hard to believe when I’m with you that there can be anything as still
as solemn as unpleasantly definitive as statuary when right in front of it
in the warm New York 4 o’clock light we are drifting back and forth
between each other like a tree breathing through its spectacles

and the portrait show seems to have no faces in it at all, just paint
you suddenly wonder why in the world anyone ever did them
I look
at you and I would rather look at you than all the portraits in the world
except possibly for the Polish Rider occasionally and anyway it’s in the Frick
which thank heavens you haven’t gone to yet so we can go together the first time
and the fact that you move so beautifully more or less takes care of Futurism
just as at home I never think of the Nude Descending a Staircase or
at a rehearsal a single drawing of Leonardo or Michelangelo that used to wow me
and what good does all the research of the Impressionists do them
when they never got the right person to stand near the tree when the sun sank
or for that matter Marino Marini when he didn’t pick the rider as carefully
as the horse
it seems they were all cheated of some marvellous experience
which is not going to go wasted on me which is why I’m telling you about it



Thank you, Frank O'Hara. I'd love to have a coke with you, again. Yeah, I said it.

girl in trouble.

I want this all the time, it's just too bad that the glasses in this picture aren't full; be it of champagne (as shown here) or the Wine Rack's finest red (or the bottle furthest from the finest).

Tuesday brought an interesting twist into my life which prompted a heavy bout of enjoyable early evening drinking on Wednesday... Thursday... Friday. I've slowly graduated from boxed wine to bottles, and the company has been different, albeit enjoyable, every evening and there's no point in stopping now. My hostel is back open for business and I have an enjoyable young New Zealander-soon-cum-Winnipegger crashing on my couch tonight. Being a sort-of-pseudo newly-single-ish girl in the big city has not proven to be as awful as I originally predicted, but only because I've had friends to keep my feet (and heart) warm at all times.

At least I have for the past three days.

And hey, at least if I run out of friends, I'll always have the cute lesbian at the friendly neighborhood coffee shoppe. God knows even if I didn't really want this break to happen in our sort-of-pseudo-friendship-cum-relationship, my cell phone's text messaging bill could sure use it.

what's wrong with groovin'.

Text Message of the Night:



"Try N to sleep. Can u keep the screaming to min thx."
-Miranda, Your Friendly Neighborhood Mostly-Lesbian Downstairs Neighbor 11:44pm

And no, I don't care to explain, because nothing (or plenty) good can come of it. It's just funnier sans explanation.

where is the sun?

Even in times of sorrow, my new & improved internet obsession already makes me feel better about myself.

Via Twitter, I came home to this tonight:



"aggiepanda @karmaelektra omg im so glad youre here. <3
about 5 hours ago from web in reply to karmaelektra"

Thank you, Aggie. You are almost as bejeweled as Aretha Franklin's hat.

the way you look tonight.

Ringo Starr once said "I can't wear hats, they bring too much attention to my nose."



I would update my blog, but I am simply too busy google-imaging pictures of Aretha Franklin's bejeweled hat from today's Inaugural festivites. It simply brings too much attention to her style. Soon, the Torontoist will be predicting "Churchgoer Chic" to be the new look of 2009. This hat is better than "I get on (The TTC)".

The reason I pay for internet?

"Courtney says:
January 20th, 2009 at 11:59 am
That hat is both my Facebook status and reason for being."

i want to take you higher.

As of recently, I'm basically out of work and thus can no longer afford groceries. Fortunately, my cupboard is stocked with all sorts of goodies so I am making a fairly epic "pantry dinner". For most, this might mean KD or Beef-a-roni or whatever that tinned shit's called..

I'm having a quick & easy multigrain linguini with pesto, sun-dried tomatoes, grilled artichokes & goat cheese.

Just sayin'.

To the guy who has been trying to get out of a snowbank outside my window for over an hour and a half...

... You aren't going to get out of that snowbank anytime soon. That's what you get for talking on your cell phone and smoking a cigarette while you parallel park. I think you could use some lessons not only in parking, but in life as well.

On another note, I think you can really tell a lot about a person by their Wikipedia searches, even moreso than their horoscope, a Livejournal meme, or their Facebook inbox.

I only say this, because if I weren't me, and I saw what I, Lauren Wilton, had searched for on Wikipedia in the past 30 days, I would really, truly, madly, deeply want to be my friend. Other than Savage Garden, some of my latest searches include the following:

Barbra Streisand, interracial relationships, houseplants, Indian hip-hop, Bruce Springsteen, oak trees, mud, jungle fever, sub-irrigation, deep frying in lard, foot-candles, lesbian bed death, Mighty Igor Vodic, flash-mobbing, tribadism, Stonehenge.. and many more.

On yet another note, via facebook I just learned that my favourite chinese food restaurant in Winnipeg has now closed. Somewhat of a family tradition, my dad used to take me there and the owner would sit and drink with us and tell me all about how he & my father used to get drunk together in hot tubs. Thanks alot, information age. I'd rather not know that the River Mandarin's chicken with lemongrass will never be gracing my palette ever again.

i was made to love magic.

Today I read an interesting article on Bitten, David Bittman's New York Times blog on food, in which the author posed the following question of his readers:

"I’d like to help readers who are trying to think of the perfect meal for a girlfriend/boyfriend/husband/wife on Valentine’s Day, but tastes are far from universal, so it’s a challenge. So here’s my question: What would you like a loved one to cook for you this February 14?"

See above, a couple very much so in love.


This is a question that I have been pondering for years. Last year, I made my then-sweetheart homemade Thai food. He took me for thai, a then first for me, on our first date the previous October; a night we both originally thought was simply to justify the night before (& a very public makeout session at a Brother Ali show). Sure enough, four months later there we were: Green Curry with chicken & vegetables, pad thai with tofu, and thai-style rice made for a lovely dinner, and since he was an hour late, it didn't involve too much cooking after he already arrived. I feel like this is an important Valentine's Day move. You know, so you have your hands free to drink red wine and make out (and exchange heartfelt, thoughtful gifts if you're into that sort of thing). I started dinner off with a plate of grilled pita & assorted crackers, roasted garlic, and brie. Certainly not Thai, but delicious nonetheless. No one says no to brie, and I always say yes to anything with roasted garlic.


Needless to say, this article piqued my interest. With my then-sweetheart behind me (don't fret, we're still good friends!), and a new one on the table, I know that the pressure's on. I now go to culinary school at George Brown, home of one of the best schools for my program in the country, and I can no longer make a shitty dish & simply shrug it off. Even if I'm only a month into the two year program.

I hadn't a fleeting thought about Valentine's Day until just now, and now for the past hour it's but all I can think about. Do I go the traditional route (think: filet mignon, blue cheese, red wine, anything caramelized..), or eclectic? I'm allergic to oysters and don't know his thoughts on figs, so aphrodisiacs are probably not the way to go. Indian food, too. We went for Indian food on our first real dinner & a movie "date". Considering that's the only time I've ever had Indian food, I hardly think this is one of those times that the "road less travelled" philosophy is the.. way to travel? I think even Robert Frost himself would agree.



Fortunately for me, he's a boy, and he's not picky, so as long as it's home-cooked I'm sure we'll both be happy. As I pleasantly discovered this past weekend, he likes to cook too, and gets really enthusiastic after three or four beers. I chose to find it endearing and rather cute when my buttermilk onion rings turned into buttermilk onion ring cake after he got a little tong-happy to one-too-many rap songs (and maybe one too many beers as well!). For all I know, I could be getting a little trigger-happy myself as we haven't even discussed the V word yet.

Part of the author's question, not quoted above, was also asking for savory breakfast ideas (presumedly for the morning after). The guy who suggested you serve your significant other cold pizza for Valentine's Day breakfast makes me feel physically ill. Sure, chivalry's dead and all, but can't you at least poach your girlfriend an egg?

I can only hope my Loverboy is reading this.

que sera, sera (whatever will be, will be).

Today’s horoscope:

You should feel comfortable trusting the people who are in power right now -- your life might feel like a roller coaster right now, but that doesn't mean you are being taken for a ride. And any turbulence you are experiencing is not their fault. Be a team player! Now is not the time to let your emotions tell you what to do. Hedge your bets and stay right where you are. Moving away from the known can feel exciting, but it's simply not the best move for you right now.

Where I would like to have stayed put today would've been in Loverboy's bed. As I've blogged before, Sunday mornings are a family favourite. I firmly believe there is not much better in life than coffee under the sheets and (steamy, awesome, sweet...) sex before noon. Unfortunately, all that morning sex obviously threw me for a loop because after running (!!!) home in a mild snowstorm to change into my 'appropriate' work clothes, I hopped the streetcar & the subway just in time to make it to work... to find out I don't work. This is not the first time this has happened, either.

On my way home from 'wasting away' a couple hours reading The NY Times with a coffee & croissant at Starbucks, when leaving the sidewalk to board the 501 Queen, not only was I nearly hit by a car, but I was splashed harder than one of Ron Jeremy's extras. Only, you know, from a puddle.



Hey, this is Toronto. You never know.

Wet tights (and jacket, and scarf, and face..) and all, I trudged home in a beautiful snowstorm. "The kind of snowflakes Hollywood orders up for holiday comedies", someone once mused via text message.



I got splashed by a car. I've got a 7 o'clock class tomorrow morning. I made a beautiful lamb sausage, sundried tomato & spinach ragu for dinner that I couldn't eat after I found a chunk of glass in my first bowl. But that's all okay. I'm spending the night with the internet; food and design blogs of total & complete strangers dazzling me from afar.

I couldn't be much happier all considering.

oh, you delicate heart.

wondering where the lions are says: (4:44:03 PM)
i think it's hilarious. especially since the 'search for people' option is down so i'm just twittering to myself.
heather says: (4:44:59 PM)
BAHAHAHAHHAA

Give me a break, I gotta do SOMETHING with my afternoon besides switching back & forth between The American President & The First Wives Club.

every day i'm-a tumblin'.

I always say I'm not an internet creep, and then today I caught myself reading the Tumblrs of complete strangers. Currently, I am obsessed with the Tumblr of a guy who created a Tumblr just to make snarky comments about the posts of his girlfriend who obsessively Tumbls. What a handful.

Her:
theruth:

"My boyfriend started a tumblr for the sole purpose of snarking my tumblr.
It is one of the funniest things I’ve read in a while.

this is definitely for real. my bf had been giving me shit for being a tumbltard for awhile and decided this was the best way to combat my obsessiveness. we were both kind of drunk when he started it and he had me in tears i was laughing so hard. i should also note that we normally have a loving and healthy relationship. we just both have a good sense of humor."

Him:
Fun fact of the day about Ruth:

Immediately after telling me she loved me for the first time she decided to pass out inside a wooden crate on the streets of Barcelona. You stay classy, TheRuth.

Not all of his comments are as hilarious as this one, but even I can't be witty all the time. I only wish her name wasn't.. You know.

I got Twitter today & I've already updated it twice this hour. I was going to hold off on getting one, but Loverboy challenged me to, and I love a good challenge.

Hotmail, Facebook, Livejournal, Myspace, Blogspot, Twitter... Where does the madness end? True, I don't update Livejournal or Myspace anymore, but I do still check my inbox occasionally still for messages from a certain rapper of Black Moon/Boot Camp Clik fame.

For now, though, I gotta turn off the computer & start the preparations for the Portuguese Sausage & Kale soup I plan to make for dinner. But first I gotta twitter about it.

the chicken dance.

Tonight for dinner I am making thyme-buttermilk fried chicken on a bed of sweet potato puree with crispy pan-fried shallots, homemade buttermilk onion rings & a celeraic and cabbage apple cider vinegar slaw.



The fried chicken is done in peanut oil, the only way to do fried chicken other than your own lard from scratch. The oil will be infused with fresh herbs (sage, thyme, rosemary) as well as a head of garlic, bay leaves, and my own touch: a bruleed sweet vidalia onion. Recipe courtesy of Tyler Florence of "Tyler's Ultimate".



The sweet potato puree recipe is my own, and easy peasy. The onion rings will be sweet vidalias as well, coated and "marinated" in buttermilk, fresh thyme & marjoram, and good ol' s+p, then also deep fried. The celeraic-cabbage apple cider slaw looks delicious in the cookbook and uses apple cider vineger, good quality grainy mustard, and some of my favourite dried herbs. Recipes courtesy of Anthony Sedlak of "The Main". I just love mixing recipes from my favourite babes of Food Network Canada; or, you know, the only two men under 35 with their own cooking shows.




This is what the end result is supposed to look like. For now, I gotta go spread the legs of my bird & de-bone that baby & brine it all day in sea salt & water & fresh herbs. I'm so excited. Last night I facebook-chatted with a classmate from my program at George Brown for an hour about the pros/cons of deep-frying in lard vs. vegetable oil, duck confit & the differant ways to prepare it, and our favourite reducing, basting, marinating and de-glazing methods. She was almost as excited as I was for me to debone my first (raw) organic, free-run chicken all on my own. Just me & my boning knife.

For all you vegetarians & meat-haters out there, sorry dudes, I just couldn't resist posting pictures. I fucking love this shit.

so [sick] of love songs

Skipping math, again, and drinking with a select (preferred) few of my new friends & classmates seemed like a good idea at the time. Unfortunately, after one (two, three..) too many Molson Canadians at a sports bar 'cross from school led me to be hugging my toilet shortly after 5pm. I haven't been feeling normal since. Drinking at noon always seems like the best idea.

All I thought I wanted tonight was a pair of wool socks, about eight blankets, ginger ale and someone to spoon feed it to me through a straw. I got 3 out of 4, and that ain't bad. Besides, with no hunk here to drink ginger ale with and nurse my nausea, I can wear a one-piece long john suit with my wool socks and take pictures of myself on my living room couch without much embarassment at all. I meant well when I told myself I'd do my dishes, debone & brine the chicken I'l be frying for dinner for company tomorrow night, and you know, do the vaccuuming. Instead, I did some catch-up on a near-week's worth of Law & Order: SVU, meanwhile catchin' up with my favourite Winnipeg ex-boyfriend.



For now, I feel about as crazy as my curls, but I'm sure I have high hopes that I'll be feeling just fine, albeit a little frustrated, by midnight.

if you can't stand the heat, get out of the kitchen.

There are few things I detest more than when a perfectly good food blogg(er) goes to waste, has a baby, and replaces their recipes for galettes, terrines, and their famous featherdrop biscuits with babies, babies, babies. Now, I can perfectly appreciate that you are overjoyed by your little bundle of joy (Hell, I hope to have a couple of them myself one day!) but I wish you'd appreciate that, for now, I don't care to watch videos of your newborn shoveling yoghurt down it's throat when all I'm looking for is a good recipe for homemade hot & sour soup. Food blogs, fashion blogs, Lindsay Lohan's Myspace blog... A quick google let me be aware that there are, yes, over five MILLION blogs for proud mamas such as yourself.

If Cory can have both a food blog & a politics blog, then you can two too. And somehow, the genuis behind The Garden Apartment finds a way to involve children into her blog without bothering me, or my gag reflex.

For a girl that's more about Top Chef than Top Model, I understand that not everyone gets as excited about a good meal as I do. I've had a couple great ones since I moved here; the lamb stew at Oddfellow's, the yukon gold frites with lemon mayonnaise at Jamie Kennedy's Wine Bar, and the thin crust at Terroni... A good meal, or even one good dish, really fills my (artichoke) heart. Thanks to my all-of-a-sudden-unavailability to work as much as I'd like to at my friendly chi-chi neighborhood kitchenware shoppe, I have been forced to cook more out of my own home & I couldn't be more happy about it. As well as being good practice for my up and coming culinary career (in one way or another), I'm sure my friends couldn't be more happy about it either. Last week, I made an assortment of panini for dinner with a friend. French brie & bartlett pear on a buttery baguette for him, balsamic marinated & roasted plum tomatoes and red peppers with pesto & herbed goat cheese on Italian sourdough for me. I served them with oven fries I made; yukon golds I tossed & baked with garlic, cayenne, grated parmesan and sunflower oil and served them with $16 Roasted Garlic Aoili from Williams-Sonoma (minus my discount).

It was delicious.

This weekend, I'm making a thyme & buttermilk brined fried chicken dinner and I couldn't be more excited, and not only because I don't have to supply the wine.

In a big city with a little kitchen, it turns my stomach to see such a good food blog go to waste. Almost as much as it turned my stomach to see your youngest with creamy white yoghurt dripping all over it's chin.

the thoughts of mary jane.

(Dis)Courtesy of the Toronto Star, my horoscope today is as follows:



"When a struggle has been won, you soon become bored. But when faced with a difficult new task or challenge, the thrill of the chase motivates you. Something is now being offered to you on a plate."


I'm a pretty typical Aries when it comes down to it. Enthusiastic, confident, quick-witted and with an often overwhelming sexual energy, I still don't know why I check my horoscope because it never makes me feel better about myself or my at-the-moment-current situation. Although Aries' are characterized to be all of the perfectly acceptable aforementioned things, they also happen to be irritable, quick-tempered, sensitive and prone to nervous breakdowns.

Oh, the audacity.

kissing girls (you shouldn't kiss).

I didn't think I missed Winnipeg all that much before I went home for four days between Christmas & New Year's Eve. So much Winnipeg has been sleeping on my couch that I felt like I was getting alot of the good and none of the bad- all I needed was a king can and a parka, and nothing really would've changed. In Toronto, I still go to potlucks, I still drink more hard liquor than a girl of any stature should be drinking (especially on weeknights), and I was still being mostly innapropriate but in different ways than before. Several friends were shocked when they'd heard that I was being mostly monogamous. I never thought I was thaaat bad, but I guess I was.

I was wrong when I thought I didn't miss Winnipeg. As soon as my size six feet stepped foot on what I believe's gotta be the only place with permafrost South of the soil of the North West Territories, I knew I was in for a real treat. I knew that it was going to be a welcomed vacation from.. well, a two month vacation.



It was. Shown here, Maddy (and I) were Queens for a Day when a dinner was thrown in our honor at the Hector home of six (soon to be seven) of Winnipeg's kindest boys. Not one of our most planned out potlucks, this thrown-together fete was celebrating great cause for celebration- the return of two pretty great girls from their new pretty great lives now elsewhere. Also, Tom's hair is looking great these days, and that's definitely another cause for celebration.



Stefan, beauty shown above, was a daily thing for me in Winnipeg. Mostly by accident, seeing Stefan always reminds me of summer. Camping? Probably. I don't know when the last time he had a shower was (I'm guessing it was before Burning Man 2008), but I think that's fabulous.. You know, for him.

There are a couple things I really missed about Toronto, though, that really made it worth coming back home. It didn't hurt that I brought a little Winnipeg back with me in the form of Kate Kidder & Jane Harrington. But I did miss a couple things liiiiiiiiiiike....



Coffee the morning-after-the-night-before at Ella's Uncle down the street (and breakfast at various hip-hot-spots across the way).



Spending the night before with new friends. I spent New Year's at a gallery space by the guy who's famous for throwing up on famous paintings with Laura-Louise & Alicia. I spent Christmas Day doing some throwing up of my own after a party thrown by the aforementioned. I've seen Russ Martin a couple times too, who (and whose hair) just gets better every time we see eachother.

Oh yeah...



Him too.

Seperated for seven days felt more like seventeen after spending much of the month of December with my new photog friend. Distance is good, though, I've since decided. He's good from both near and far, and the free camera lessons don't hurt either.

Kidding, sort of...

if this room could talk.

I've been having severe heart palpitations for the past two days. If I don't make it, and I happen to expire before dinnertime, my record collection is up for grabs. Any Heart fans out there?

Don't worry, Russ. Cyndi Lauper is all yours.

hey, that's no way to say goodbye.

I've been listening to the same Leonard Cohen album for the last two hours. What does this mean?



..Other than I've had too much to drink too early in the evening.

he uses language that would make your hair curl.

Curly haired women have had it rough in history.



In grade six, I was famously dumped by Matthew Lederman for Alexis Dickson for not 'being popular enough'. Really. That's what the e-mail said. Weeks later, I found out from a friend of a friend of a friend of a friend in the seventh grade that he didn't like my hair either. Bummer. The bob was big back then, I thought. Little did I know that a bob is not the best idea when your ringlets outnumber your braincells. I should be relieved, I suppose. He could have done it over MSN Messenger.

Sure, everything was fine and dandy with c-c-c-curly haired K-K-K-Katie Morosky and Hubbell Gardiner at the beginning of The Way We Were, until she started showing her curly haired inner vixen. Next thing you know, she's offering to have a drink with him & his ladyfriend and he's saying no, leaving her alone and going home with his nice, simple, brunette, straight-haired girl. How anyone could say no to Barbra Streisand is beyond me.




In When Harry Met Sally, Harry Burns is fucking every straight haired woman in New York for years before he and Sally Albright finally do it (thank god) after she hears that the former love-of-her-life is getting married (assumedly to another straight haired woman) and subsequently fall in love after an awkward nearly month long break in their famed friendship. Talk about a run-on sentence, all this straight vs. curly is giving me a headache.



It happened to Sarah-Jessica-Parker-as-Carrie-Bradshaw to Chris Noth-as-Mr. Big (and... that straight haired girl. Natasha? Natalia? Who cares?) before they were hand in hand, husband and wife in their kabillion dollar penthouse, too. Lucy never got Schroeder ever either, did she? And I bet it wasn't because of Frieda, the naturally curly red-headed wonder.

I don't mean to be so cynical, but a single girl can only feel so good after watching When Harry Met Sally for the first time... by herself... at home... on a Thursday night. I don't know why I turned down offers to go out for Billy Crystal, with or without the beard. No orgasms tonight, whether they be real in bed or faked in a booth at the nearby deli.

"How much worse can it get than finishing dinner, having him reach over, pull a hair out of my head and start flossing with it at the table?"

Oh Meg Ryan, you obviously have so much to learn.

it be's that way sometimes.

There are so many things that are fucked up about this picture. Unfortunately, my "gentleman" friend's other ladyfriend on the right looks deliriously happy while I just look sad & pissed off.

Nina Simone, the High Priestess of Soul, sang "My Man's Gone Now" way back when. Unfortunately being a single woman for me probably won't end the same way as it did for her- with a lengthy relationship with the Prime Minister of Barbados.

...Maybe just a torrid affair with a certain Belizean beat poet? Oh wait; been there, done that.

Waiting around this weekend to find out what's to come with my quasi-pseudo relationship come Sunday, and his much awaited return from Winnipeg, is something I never would've done a year ago, so I've just recently decided to just... not. I hoping to be singing 'I Get Along Without You Very Well' instead of 'Little Girl Blue' come Saturday evening.

Chances are, I won't be.

death of a ladies' man.

Chelsea Hotel at Midnight



After evidently accidentally opening a hostel accidentally, seeming to be exclusively open & free for my fellow I-Need-To-Get-Out-Of-Winnipeg'gers, a night to myself is a rare gem. I finally started school today, the "real" reason for my big move to the big city, so I finally had an excuse to say no to the Communist's Daughter, Sweaty Betty herself, and the ladies of Henhouse without looking boring or like a bad house-hostess.

With Leonard Cohen on the record player, the sound of the needle dropping lulling me to sleep on the couch with a load of laundry polishing itself off in the distance of my one-bedroom, all-fabulous apartment, I am so tired yet so restless and totally unsure of how to live by myself. After two months here, only two weeks of it have actually been without-houseguest and with the last foreseen one departing tomorrow, I'm totally freaking out. I thought I was looking forward to being all on my own again, but to be perfectly honest it couldn't come at a worse possible time. On Thursday my gentleman friend is taking off for Winnipeg for work & back to his other love from my hometown; a lady that I'm sure is just lovely, but is really one loaf of Winnipeg rye that I quickly find growing stale. I don't wanna be no sister of mercy. I need you, I don't need you. I need you, I don't need you. And all of that jiving around.


I remember you well in the chelsea hotel,
You were talking so brave and so sweet,
Giving me head on the unmade bed,
While the limousines wait in the street.

...

I need you, I don't need you.
I need you, I don't need you.
And all of that jiving around.