She Needs Therapy.

Hard Sell

2012-02-14T22:06:00.001-05:00

I am not very popular in the online dating world.

Happy Valentine's Day, No One!

2012-02-14T20:53:00.003-05:00

Here's a collection of the day's best Valentines-related items:

I am proud to say that I know the person who made the above card in real life, have probably touched her at some point, and hopefully absorbed some of her powers.

I received a Happy Anna Howard Shaw Day message on my voicemail today. Somehow, people just know which way the pendulum swings.

"Happy Valentine's Day everyone. If you have someone special, give them a kiss. If you don't, make a voodoo doll of your ex and cast spells." - Lady Gaga

Is herpes a spell?

Modern Valentines

2012-02-14T09:00:00.003-05:00

Williams-Sonoma's Message in a Cookie, the name of which you will now read in the voice of Cookie Monster, to the tune of Message in a Bottle, was probably devised by some well-meaning individual, who visualized this tool facilitating the creation of easy and charming "HAPPY BIRTHDAY" and "WELCOME BABY JOHN" cookies.

I, of course, immediately visualized how many swear words and crude references to body parts could be made with three whole sets of the alphabet.

The resemblance of the heart-shaped cutter to the Conversation Hearts usually half-heartedly eaten around Valentine's Day seemed to present too auspicious an opportunity to pass up. However, if you thought I was going to spend an afternoon inscribing saccharine bullshit like "TRUE LOVE" or "LET'S KISS" on these cookies, you are sorely mistaken.

I have an 8-year-old copy of Real Simple magazine that I'll drag with me into the apocalypse because it contains the best sugar cookie recipe that I have personally found. The trick to good sugar cookies that both taste great and hold their shape is the butter-to-shortening ratio. Too much butter, and the cookies will deform slightly during the baking process; too much shortening and they'll taste like ass.

I tried to think of timeless, classic Valentine's sentiments, using each phrase on about three or four cookies:

Modern Valentines

Message in a Cookie Set
Gel food colouring*
4 cups all-purpose flour
1 cup unsalted butter, room temperature
1/3 cup vegetable shortening
1 1/2 cup sugar
2 eggs, room temperature
2 tsp vanilla extract
1 1/2 tsp baking powder
1 tsp salt

Sift flour, baking powder, and salt into a bowl; set aside.

In the bowl of a stand mixer, cream butter and shortening together until smooth. Slowly add sugar, until blended.

Add eggs, one at a time. Add vanilla.

Add flour mixture to the butter and sugar mixture, one cup at a time.

Divide into 5 equal parts. One by one, return one fifth of the dough to the mixer, and blend in food colouring. Once coloured, wrap each piece separately in plastic wrap, and refrigerate for at least one hour.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Roll out dough to approximately 1/8" thickness. Use desired shapes and phrases from set and place on ungreased cookie sheets.

Bake 12-14 minutes.

*The classic Conversation Heart colours are pink, purple, green, yellow, white, and orange; I omitted white for obvious reasons, and used Wilton colours Rose, Orange, Leaf Green, Golden Yellow, and Violet.

Goon Love Is The Best Love

2012-02-12T20:12:00.003-05:00

It's Goon Valentine Exchange time again! Last year they get magnets, and the year before that, gaping anuses, but this year I was short on time. I drew the cards above, shamelessly ripping off a design I saw elsewhere. Hey, at least I'm not sellin' em.

The inscription on the reverse reads:

Roses are red
Darwin's beard grey
I hope you enjoy
This dumb holiday.

That part was all me. You know that shit's too genius to have come from anywhere else.

I haven't been to the thrift store much lately, partly due to lack of time, and also because I live in an apartment and there's no more room at the fuckin' inn. Anyway, last time I went I picked up another vintage tea towel and a small salt pig. I love 70s tea towels because they always have something so inane on them. In this case, a bunch of vegetables surrounding the caption "VEGETABLES". You don't say.

Somebody That I Used to Know by Gotye is so awesome, and I'm in love with its minimalist, retro arrangement. Eyes Wide Open and Save Me are awesome, too. You should give the album, Making Mirrors, a download, unless you don't like things that are awesome.

I also recently downloaded the Stealthy extension for Google Chrome, so that I could watch steaming content on the BBC iPlayer without the UK getting all uppity about it. I watched If Walls Could Take: The History of the Home in an afternoon flat. I also watched Inside the Body of Henry VIII. I don't know why they get all of the quality programming over there, and we're stuck with garbage like The Man Whose Balls Exploded on TLC and The Wrath of Hitler's Ghost or whatever on History.

Perhaps you'll remember that the day after tomorrow is Valentine's Day. I was originally - at his behest - supposed to do something with Whiny McFeelsalot, but since I recently had him shot into space (this version may be less accurate, but it's certainly more exciting and a hell of a lot more satisfying), I am officially free of whatever gay bullshit he was planning inside his girly mind. I likely narrowly escaped an evening of listening to Sarah McLachlan and washing our vaginas together by candlelight.

I'm actually relieved to be free of that obligation. Celebrating a holiday I'm more or less ambivalent toward in the first place with someone I care very little about seems a little on the grody side. I'd rather spend it the way I spend any Tuesday evening - going for a run, and then charming free items out of the baristas at the local Starbucks.

But at any rate, come back on V-Day, and I'll have something to show you (unless I forget to hit Post).

I Don't Want You To Be My Girlfriend Any More

2012-02-10T21:21:00.006-05:00

The guy I dated most recently is the biggest vagina I have ever met. This guy had the Whole Package when it comes to being a total panty-boy: sang whinily in a local band; defiled my BBM with stupid bullshit like, "The moon is almost as beautiful as you tonight :)" or "Fair warning - I might try to hold your hand tomorrow! :)"; awarded deep, symbolic meaning to every single fucking event, down to a leaf blowing across the street. He also liked Sam Roberts.

I cannot handle this type of guy. They get attached way too soon, and then proceed to dissect your every statement in search of something they can sulk, or better yet, have a Big Hairy Fit over. Use sarcasm in presence of Big Sloppy Vagina-Man? Big hairy fit. Don't laugh hard enough at their boring work story? Sulk for an hour. Don't show enough interest in their guitar pick collection? They're going to give you the silent treatment over BBM (you won't notice).

Oh, my god. This is the kind of guy who will secretly track your period and "surprise" you with a box of your favourite tampons on the day you're due. There will be one missing from the box, but you won't question it. I cannot handle this.

The kind of men I have gotten along best with in the past were all hardy men so cynical that it actually lowered their pH levels. This is the kind of man who you can call a shit-eating cockmaster without them even glancing up from their cereal. This, to me, is romance.

Anyway, before finally banishing his oppressive presence for good, I took The Vagina to the James Street North Art Crawl, because, hey, girls like that stuff, right? I don't fuckin' know, this guy is my first girlfriend, so it was a total shot in the dark. I laid out his best dress and dragged his ass to Mixed Media and White Elephant, which are usually closed by the time I get home from work on weekdays.

I fully expected them to hurl stones at me when I entered White Elephant, but it went swimmingly and BOTH THE GIRLS WERE VERY NICE.

I've been looking for these particular postcards by Rifle Paper Co. for a few weeks:

I am in love with Rifle Co's playful and colourful sense of design, and I want to do depraved things to their artist. Even their line of sympathy cards are covetable.

I don't have photos, but Mixed Media had a beautiful pirate ship-themed letterpress valentine that said "YOU'RE MY SOULMATEY", which made me wish that soulmates were real so hard. There was also one with a picture of a weasel that said "YOU'VE WEASELED YOUR WAY INTO MY HEART". Valentines should always have weasels on them.

Eventually, the Big Sloppy Vagina threw a hissy fit over some goddamn imagined slight and stomped back to his car, smoking petulantly. "Drive safely!" he hissed angrily as we departed. You sure showed me.

He's probably writing a poem about it or something that I'll receive later, piece by misspelled piece, over BBM. I swear to god, one of these days I'm going to lock myself in the trunk of my car and never come out.

Death Becomes Her

2012-02-04T22:54:00.000-05:00

Checked out The Works this evening, as I'm still not eager enough to try Chuck's Burger Bar to wait an hour for a spot in their packed dining room just yet.

The menu is significantly more experimental than the Yonge & Eg standard, Bamburger, with peanut butter, bananas, pineapple rings, and fried eggs appearing on several of the burgers (often in horrible, unholy congress with one another). And to be edgy or whatever, they serve their soft drinks and milkshakes in Anchor measuring cups. I'm not sure what the fuck, but I still considered slipping one into my purse on the way out.

I went with the Three Ring Binder: mushrooms, chipotle mayo, gouda, and three onion rings. My friend cut his burger in half because he's a big vagina. I ate mine like a goddamn man.

Speaking of men, I also saw The Woman in Black this evening, and between this and my ex declaring me as dead, I've given some serious thought as to what kind of ghost I would like to be.

I obviously need to give this topic further examination, as I've had very little luck yet; on Thursday, the day I learned of my untimely death, I announced to my boss that I was leaving, because ghosts don't have to put up with bullshit like Microsoft Excel. This did not go over convincingly. Moreover, I keep getting arrested when trying to haunt people. I have tried to explain to the officers that the rules of personal property do not apply to the supernatural, but the living just have such a tenuous grip on metaphysics that my pleas go unheeded.

Crazy Ex is Crazy

2012-02-02T10:22:00.001-05:00

My most recent ex set his Facebook relationship status to "widowed". I did not think anyone could possibly be more dramatic than I; I was wrong. I also now feel slightly in need of a restraining order.

Long Way Round

2012-01-31T20:56:00.005-05:00

Did I ever show you my skulls? I made a few out of clay several months ago and painted them in the style of the Mexican Day of the Dead. I brought a couple to work with me to put on my desk. My boss takes the long way round now.

The Imperfect List

2012-01-29T20:30:00.004-05:00

I know this is my third post today, but this had to be documented.

One of my latest admirers informed me recently that he likes to ask a few routine questions of his potential girlfriends to weed out any potential "dealbreakers". Normal enough, right? Hell, I usually just say, "Marriage, or civil union?" and shrug indifferently when they give their answer. But I figured, fair's fair - fire away.

The following is what I received in its full and unabridged form. Explains Charles Manson II: "When you have a headache coming on, the average person will take a Tylenol, right? Well, think of this questionnaire as a sort of Tylenol to the date-ache!"

Hoo-boy. Well, here's what he considers to be the antidote:

A1) Have you ever cheated on someone?
A2) Have you cheated on more than one person?

B) Do you use any hardcore/illegal drugs (exclude marijuana)? - Ecstasy, cocaine, etc...
B2) Have you previously used any hardcore/illegal drugs? - Ecstasy, cocaine, etc
B3) Do you smoke marijuana?
B4) If so, do you smoke it every single day? and do you "NEED" to smoke it every day to function?

C) Do you believe there is such a thing as "emotional" cheating? = Talking to a member of the opposite sex (who is not your partner) texting/talking/planning sexual and dirty things with them regardless if you follow through with the plans or not?

EXAMPLES: "Oh, if my boyfriend wasn't here, I would totally have you come over and satisfy me in bed" "Hey babe, what are you doing tonight? You should call me and help me get off over the phone"

C1) Would you find it appropriate if your boyfriend grinded up sexually with another girl on a the dance floor/wherever?
C2) Would you find it appropriate if your boyfriend grabbed/slapped another girl's ass?
C3) Would/do you grind up sexually with other guys while you have a boyfriend?
C4) Would/do you grab/slap other guy's asses while you have a boyfriend?

D1) Are you religious?
D2) Is your family religious?
D3) Do you require the person you're dating to have religious views?
D4) If you answered "yes" to "D3", then do you require your partner to have the same religious views as you?

E1) Are you bi-sexual?
E2) Are you bi-curious?
E2) Have you ever been in a relationship/intimate with a woman?
E3) Do you still consider it cheating even if it's with the same gender?

F1) Do you eventually want children?
F2) Do you believe in marriage (are you planning on marrying someone in the future) or common law?

G1 Do you plan on moving out of the country permanently in the near or distant future?

H1) Do you believe that 'being intoxicated" is an excuse for making out, grabbing up on the opposite sex?
H2) Would you forgive and still be with someone if they cheated but they were "intoxicated" while doing it?
H3) Are you aware of what is right and wrong in terms of fidelity while you're intoxicated?

This is real. This is happening. This is really happening in my life right now. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, SOMEBODY SAVE ME.

Post the Second

2012-01-29T15:40:00.004-05:00

I'm a sucker for beautiful old books; it's one of the reasons I bought the Postcards From Penguin collection. I usually don't purchase them unless I'm actually interested in the content, but I couldn't resist the design of this 1941 copy of Pied Piper:

It was obviously meant to be used in a school setting, as there's a glossary and quiz questions (complete with handwritten notations) in the back, with a paragraph stating

"STUDY MATERIAL PREPARED BY
C. M. IRWIN
VICE-PRINCIPAL
CENTENNIAL SECONDARY SCHOOL
BELLEVILLE, ONTARIO"

I wish my high school had employed such advanced design; all we had were tattered copies of Clan of the Cave Bear with the occasional dick drawn in the margins if you were lucky.

It's blood-orange and meyer lemon season, so I picked up some of both and made blood-orange meyer lemon citrus jelly, according to the recipe I posted here. It turned out really, really well, with a beautiful rosy orange-pink colour.

I like citrus jellies because I love the taste of citrus in jellies, but it seems as though where preserves are concerned, marmalades get all of the attention, and I think the rinds in marmalade taste like ass.

I still have quite a few lemons left over, which suits me just fine as there's a potluck coming up at work for someone's baby shower, and I figure what better way to show my inner bitterness at being childless and alone by using up the rest of my lemons and bringing a meyer lemon coffee cake.

I haven't yet mastered the art of the self-taken phone photo. I bought a summer dress already. Cap sleeves are hard to come by, and I love them. They're so flattering. WHY ISN'T IT SPRING ALREADY??

It Was The Best of Times, It Was the Worst of Times

2012-01-29T12:08:00.002-05:00

I had the BEST date of my ENTIRE LIFE last night. Never in my life have I even been so entertained.

Reginald hates smoking. He really, really hates it. He won't really say why, but alludes to a darker and more mysterious reasoning behind it; I can only assume that the Big Reveal won't come about until the season finale.

Anyway, as someone who used to smoke, and who has many beloved family members that smoked, I agree that smoking is certainly terrible and pointless, and that smokers are certainly manipulated to some extent by the media (and by a government who really, REALLY wants you to quit, pretty please, but won't stop selling them because the tax revenue is too lucrative to give up), but as with any other creed or colour (except men), I refuse to generalize and demonize an entire group of people for a single bad habit for which each and every person has come into under a unique set of circumstances.

Reginald doesn't like this. Reginald is not used to people disagreeing with him. Unfortunately for Reginald, not only am I a smoker apologist, but, as you can imagine, there's no role I love to play more than Devil's Advocate.

So, basically, I pulled the equivalent of an English drive-by:

Yelling. Gesticulating. Reginald's roommate - a smoker - comes in and hollers at Reginald, threatening to move out. Reginald's cat looks alarmed. I am happier than a clam in a sand dune. And then he cried.

In case you think that was a typo: AND THEN HE CRIED. I got the fuck out of Dodge, bursting into laughter the minute I closed the door behind me, quick-stepping my way back to my car through Corktown in case he decided to come shank me with a sharpened nicotine patch.

Cue seventeen hundred text messages, each filled with more vitriol than the last, culminating in an extremely colourful spaz owing to the fact that I wasn't replying - given that I was driving at the time; in Ontario, it's illegal to so much as touch your iPod while behind the wheel, let alone squeeze in a few community service hours by ministering to the schizophrenic via text message.

Nothing will ever top this date. When I eventually date my husband, I'm going to be so disappointed. Where are the angry convulsions? The strawman arguments? Where is the alarmed cat?

Reginald has spoiled me for other men. Hats off to you, Reginald. Hats off to you.

Dentists Don't Have a Sense of Humor Either

2012-01-27T17:46:00.000-05:00

Dentist: You have a little bit of calculus built up, but the hygienist will take care of that.
Me: No! It's like their shield. It's protecting my teeth.
Dentist: From what?
Me: More calculus.

Falling Temperatures

2012-01-24T21:24:00.005-05:00

I don't think I have ever once been to Niagara Falls in the summer. For those of us in the area who can easily take one of the "Seven Wonders of Canada" for granted (it's not difficult; one of the other seven wonders includes, and I quote, "the canoe"), Niagara is sort of a grasping of straws when it comes to something to do. It's trashy, it's tacky, it's crammed with tourists - and we can't even go halfsies on the tourists with the US, because all the views are on our side. They even had to build some huge observation platform a few years ago because put plainly, they can't see shit.

That said, the combination of mist from the falls and ball-shrinking temperatures made for some interesting photos.

Obligatory shot of Horseshoe Falls

Obligatory shot of American Falls

This is Fred. Fred is intrepid as fuck, and tell me Fred doesn't recognize a good photo op when he sees one.

I Would Do Anything For Love (But I Won't Do That)

2012-01-23T22:20:00.004-05:00

Best friend: Well, you're a brave person, at least.
Me: If I were that brave, I'd be standing outside of [street address redacted] right now, holding up a boombox.
Best friend: So why the fuck aren't you?
Me: Because I don't want to get arrested.

And It Moves Us All

2012-01-22T19:59:00.003-05:00

The Hipster Circle of Life is as follows: Inspired by a blog post she saw, a hipster's girlfriend knits him a Dr. Who scarf. Biking down a snowy street, the hipster's scarf becomes entangled in the rear wheel of his fixie, and he falls. Another hipster takes an instagram picture of the scene with his iPhone and posts it to his tumblr.
~ fin ~

Jesus Had A Swimmer's Body

2012-01-22T13:25:00.002-05:00

Trending big-time on Youtube right now is the "strange sounds in __________!!!!1" meme. This video from Manitoba, while somewhat upstaged by the backwoods Canadian accent, is a good example; however, "sightings" have been captured and posted from Alberta, Costa Rica, Los Angeles, La Pas, and pretty much anywhere else anybody with a cheap camera and some spare time lives.

Goons are currently arguing over whether this is an ARG, viral marketing for an upcoming movie a la Cloverfield, or simply an increasingly popular meme that rips off this video from Kiev, posted almost a year ago, which was a real incidence that, after investigation, turned out to be mechanical equipment.

I'd say there's no real mystery to be solved here, however, as Youtube user ZuZeFF has it all figured out:

It would seem that Gabriel and his horn have officially been given the boot: it's Jesus and his whistle that will officially announce the coming apocalypse. Allow me to supply my artist's rendering of this momentous event:

I always suspected that Jesus had a swimmer's body.

Quick One Before I Go Work On My Tumor

2012-01-21T12:55:00.002-05:00

This new one is going to get the boot. What's the point of not being a smoker any more if I'm just going to die of lung cancer anyway as he unapologetically chain smokes away in his hermetically sealed Mazda? Ugh.

Surfin' USSR

2012-01-19T20:44:00.003-05:00

This scary-smart crow in Russia is purposefully using an old bottle cap he found to toboggan down a snowy roof.

They say corvids are as intelligent as a two-year-old human, but I've never seen a two-year-old human do much other than projectile vomit and screech incessantly (to be fair, birds also have this skill more or less cornered).

Darwin Rewards

2012-01-15T17:18:00.004-05:00

Truth. While I know I was just complaining about the genetic cesspool that must be waded through in order to find a decent date in your late 20s, I failed to mention what usually happens when I thrust my fist into the murky waters and manage to come up with something with less than three legs, for once.

With me, there's roughly.... one date or so between the awkward first meeting and OHMYGODYOUREFANTASTICIMLIKEREALLYINTERESTEDINYOUILOVEYOU.

These are all accurate statements, however; you're doing it wrong. Executed properly, I should be waking up beside you five years from now, and suddenly exclaiming, "Hey! You're not the ex I'm still hung up on, at all!" By then we'll probably be married and I'll be screwed. Know when to hold 'em, boys.

I don't know what it is about a technically promising new relationship that fills me with an acute sense of abject terror. Seriously, it fills me with panic, and all I want to do is ruin it NOW. I want to wear tampons as earrings and insist we listen to Hanson in the car. I want to make up various disorders like Permanent PMS Syndrome and claim to have them. I want to 'confide' that I've always had a long-standing crush on Hitler.

Unfortunately, these poor nice men always seem to roll with the punches. "Ha-ha!" they say gallantly, possibly also placing their hands on their hips in an equally gallant manner. "You see, I Really Like You™. You'll not scare me away with that tomfoolery!"

I will if the tampons are used.

The more potential the relationship has, the more horror-inducing it becomes. I start to look for reasons it might be A Bad Idea. His voice sounds kind of gay when he pronounces the word 'shortcake'. That sweater he looked at in Winners was totally hideous. He didn't buy it, but I could tell he was thinking about it. He doesn't use his turn signal punctually enough. He's soul-crushingly, vagina-shrivelingly terrible in bed (okay, I'll give myself that one, at least).

Once I decide that the hypothetically terrible sweater-wearing, gay-for-shortcake dude has got to go, he's got to go. Oh, I've definitely broken up with boyfriends before for completely justifiable reasons (See: vagina-shrivelingly terrible in bad). But sometimes I wonder if I haven't mistakenly taken a big old gulp of Darwin water myself.

Oh, well. If there's ever a Seinfeld reunion, I've got some swell material for them.

Doctors Don't Have Any Sense of Humor

2012-01-15T11:36:00.002-05:00

Doctor: So, what have you been using to prevent pregnancy these days?
Me: My personality.

Nothing's Been The Same

2012-01-14T23:34:00.001-05:00

I go from day to day
I know where the cupboards are
I know where the car is parked
I know he isn't you

I want those lyrics as a tattoo.

15 Songs to Win Her Back (And 5 That'll Earn You a Peace Order)

2012-01-13T21:26:00.005-05:00

I can't believe they're putting out Valentine's Day decorations already (and what is the deal with airline food??).

Ironically, V-Day was always the one holiday I found easy to weather as a single person. After all, if you're single, you're not expecting anything. And as I get older, though I hate to say it, I feel more and more like my ex was right - it is a really stupid holiday, even if you happen to be paired up. Happy Valentine's Day, honey; I don't hate you. Here is a stuffed bear.

That said: love songs. Remember that scene from Say Anything, where John Cusack held up a boombox playing 'In Your Eyes' to win back his love? Can you imagine if someone under the age of 60 actually fucking played a Peter Gabriel song to win someone back? I think even a senior citizen would throw their dentures at you.

Here's what Cusack should have played (with the exception of the ones that maybe didn't exist back then, in which case he should have built a time machine and gone and get them, unless he just thinks he can go around half-assing this shit).

If someone played these songs for me, it would be very romantic and terrifying, because I live on the ground floor. Well, mostly terrifying.

15 Songs to Win Her Back

1. Waiting For the Siren's Call - New Order (Video)
I won't desert you
I don't know what to say
I really hurt you
I nearly gave it all away
I got it all wrong
Cause you were not the wrong one
And I don't know where to turn when you're gone

I can tell this song is based on a fictional situation, because it's about a man that's all, Oh shit, my bad.

2. Oceans - Rob Dickinson (Video)
I'm outside your tower, baby
I can set you free
What's it gonna take to make you love me
I'll do all that's necessary
Tell me what you need
What's it gonna take to make you love me
Flowers on flowers
Love and devotion
Hours and hours
Staring at oceans

This song has so much meaning for me. And I kind of wish Rob Dickinson would wait around outside my house. I also kind of want to throw at least a few of my exes into the ocean. This song has the best of everything.

3. Love Anyway - The Waterboys (Video)
You made a fool
Out of me today
I'm breaking the rule
I love you anyway

The Waterboys is an Irish band led by a small man who strongly resembles a leprechaun.

4. One Life Stand - Hot Chip (Video)
I offer you my temper
With the hope that you would tame me
We built ourselves a shelter
You will always be my baby
I only want to be your one life stand
Tell me do you stand by your man

'One Life Stand' sounds like the name of a House M.D. episode or something.

5. There is a Light That Never Goes Out - The Smiths (Video)
And if a double-decker bus
Crashes into us
To die by your side
Is such a heavenly way to die
And if a ten-ton truck
Kills the both of us
To die by your side
The pleasure, the privilege is mine

Little Miss Morbid thinks this is a highly romantic statement, and doesn't care what you think.

6. Milk - Garbage (Video)
I am lost
So I am cruel
But I'd be love and sweetness
If I had you
I'm waiting, I'm waiting for you
I'm aching, I'm aching for you

I'm also waiting and/or aching for their next album. HURRY UP

7. Sunday - Hurts (Video)
There are times when we question the things we know
Never thought that the cracks will begin to show
We both know love is not that easy
I wish I'd known that it would be this hard to be alone
Please come home
Loveless nights, they seem so long
I know that I'll hold you someday
But till you come back where you belong
It's just another lonely Sunday

My love for Hurts is great despite how short a time I've been listening to them. These two dudes are every bit as butthurt about things as I am. Respect.

8. You And I - Lady Gaga (Video)
It's been two years since I let you go
I couldn't listen to a joke or rock and roll
Muscle cars drove a truck right through my heart
On my birthday you sang me Heart of Gold
With a guitar humming and no clothes
This time I'm not leaving without you

I really, really need to get rid of that couch.

9. On Your Side - Pete Yorn (Video)
I'm outside your house
2am, it's dark
So many mistakes
Come back home from bars
I am on your side
It's taken me a long time
I am on your side
And I'm listening

There seem to be a lot of songs about men standing outside of people's houses. The last time a man stood outside my house, my cable went out.

10. We Have Everything - Young Galaxy (Video)
I wept when we parted
And wept when we united
In poverty, my love
We have everything

The video for this song is key, although it really has nothing to do with the song itself whatsoever.

11. Maps - Yeah Yeah Yeahs (Video)
Don't stray
My kind's your kind
I'll stay the same
Wait
They don't love you like I love you

These lyrics... don't make a lot of sense. But they seem roughly romantic. Especially if you are a big fan of maps. Or if you're a big fan of mats, and just aren't very good at listening.

12. Can't Seem to Make You Mine - The Seeds (Video)
I can't seem to make you mine
I can't seem to make you mine
You fly around like a bee
Hurtin' everything you see
I try everything I know
To make you wanna love me so
The only things you do
Is try to put the hurt on me

Classic.

13. Valentine - The Getup Kids (Video)
For two days I wait for calls to come through
Tonight for me translates to yesterday to you
You bend and you wave when you're barely away
Wish I could say tonight that when you bend and wave goodbye
You'd take me with you

This one's kind of bittersweet, and it's back from when emo was still cool before it was underground and you probably hadn't heard of it because it was buried in magma at the core of the earth or whatever.

14. God Only Knows - The Beach Boys (Video)
If you should ever leave me
Thought life would still go on, believe me
The world would show nothing to me
So what good would living do me
God only knows what I'd be without you

The album that this song comes from features a photo of the band petting a number of zoo animals. Do not include this photo in your mixtape.

15. Lover, You Should've Come Over - Jeff Buckley (Video)
Sometimes a man gets carried away
When he feels like he should be having his fun
And much too blind to see the damage he's done
Sometimes a man must awake to find that really he has no one
So I'll wait for you and I'll burn
Will I ever see your sweet return
Oh will I ever learn
Oh lover, you should've come over
Cause it's not too late

"I was playing Call of Duty, and you got pissed and went to bed."

5 That'll Earn You a Peace Order

1. Every Breath You Take - The Police (Video)
Oh can't you see
You belong to me
How my poor heart aches with every step you take
Every move you make
Every vow you break
Every smile you fake
Every claim you stake
I'll be watching you

What about every claim I stake? Will he be watching that, too? I need someone to act as a witness for my claim shanty.

2. Closer - NIN (Video)
You can have my isolation
You can have the hate that it brings
You can have my absence of faith
You can have my everything

That's a really attractive offer, Mr. Reznor, but we've decided to go with another candidate.

3. Obsession - Animotion (Video)
I will have you, yes I will have you
I will find a way and I will have you
Like a butterfly, a wild butterfly
I will collect you and capture you
You are an obsession, you're my obsession
Who do you want me to be to make you sleep with me

AKA "The Fashion Television theme song".

4. Get Your Hands Off My Woman - The Darkness (Video)
I've got no right to lay claim to her frame
But you soiled my obsession
You cunt
Get your hands off my woman motherfucker
Get your hands off my woman motherfucker
Get your hands off my woman motherfucker
Get your hands off my woman motherfucker

"The 'broken record' technique consists of simply repeating your requests or your refusals every time you are met with resistance."

5. Striptease - Hawksley Workman (Video)
In a house by the tracks
I want, I want you back
In the dress that's faded black
I want you back, I want you back
All the ways my mother taught me how
I want, i want you now
In any place you'll allow
I want you now, I want you now

Wow! It's like he went inside my head and pulled out the most beautiful reunion scenario I could possibly conceive of, right down to the abandoned shack next to the syringe-riddled railroad, the faded Walmart dress, and the sex tips from Mom.

So, for all you men out there who somehow stumbled upon this website by googling 'fisting grandmas' or whatever: Valentine's Day is a month away, now you have no excuse. I hear they don't make mix tapes any more, but maybe you can make her a nice YouTube playlist. Don't forget to reserve that romantic shack!

If You Love Something...

2012-01-09T15:40:00.001-05:00

...let it go.

Buca and Beer Bistro

2012-01-08T01:37:00.005-05:00

First stop: Buca.

For the antipasti, we chose:

Salumi di buca
We chose a selection of salami, goose breast, and pork cheek. Each meat was served with a pairing of some fearsome, pickled thing which I did not try.
Petto d'uca
Sopressa
Guanciale

Formaggi
We ended up with two hard cheeses, and the soft, unripened sovrano cheese. Each was paired with a different preserve.
Sovrano bufala reggiana
Parmigiano reggiano
Stracchiatelli

Orecchio di maiale (Crisp pig's ears with fennel salt)
Nodini (Warm bread knots with rosemary)

The crisp pig's ears are probably one of Buca's most talked-about dishes. It's certainly an interesting experience to eat what's essentially deep-fried cartilage. It was sort of like when you eat the skin from a piece of fried chicken... but chewier. It's not my thing (there's a layer of fat on the ear, which I don't really like), but I'm glad I tried it.

For the main, I went with pizze funghi, a thin-crust pizza topped with a white sauce, cheese, and seasonal mushrooms. The pizze seems to be by and large the biggest single meal served at Buca - it's served on a board with a pair of scissors, and definitely large enough to feed two people. I took half of it home.

It's quite dark inside Buca. I think they call it 'ambiance'. I've seen some people complain online that they needed to use the light from their cell phones to read the menu, but it wasn't anywhere near that bad.

The wine cellar and meat locker were incorporated as part of the decor.

Many people have pointed out in reviews that the value for your money at Buca is less than great, as most of the portions are rather small. To be fair, a traditional Italian menu such as the one at Buca is meant to be experienced over at least three or four courses, rather than the two or three maximum (if you include dessert) we're used to in Western cuisine. And while Buca is somewhat on the pricier side, if you don't normally frequent higher-end restaurants, or if you've never visited a more traditional Italian restaurant, the novelty factor, as well as the opportunity to experience foods you may not have tried before, will make the extra cost worth it.

In terms of culinary merit, I'm not sure the dishes served are so outstanding that they weren't something I couldn't prepare in my own kitchen. Italian food, however, is, at its best, comprised of a relatively small selection of simple ingredients, anyway. And it's still a thousand times better than the swill they serve at East Side Mario's.

At any rate, we weren't too upset about the portion size at Buca, because the next stop was Beer Bistro.

I'm not a big beer drinker by any means. I have yet to find a beer that I can tolerate more than a few sips of at a time; though with the thousands of different varieties available, I'm confident that I could find one I liked (if I really gave a shit). Beer Bistro's beer menu was several pages in length - at least a dozen, if not two. And they'll offer you a sampling of three of their current draught beers for only $6, if you're not sure what you're looking for. As can be expected, the servers are quite good at making recommendations for you.

In spite of my ambivalence toward beer, Beer Bistro had me at Belgian Frites fried in duck fat.

Ask any cook, and they will tell you that duck fat is the absolute, #1 tastiest fat for cooking. Unfortunately, it's also somewhat expensive. However, at BB they'll serve you a HUGE cone of duck fat fries, accompanied by mayonnaise and some sort of disgusting smoky ketchup, for only $6.

I can only assume they can give you such a great deal as they've got lots of duck fat left over from one of their signature foods, also pictured above: Duck Confit Corn Dogs (served with cherry beer ketchup and pineapple mustard).

Imagine a Pogo stick, only freshly breaded; and instead of containing anus and bits of raccoon, the center is tender duck confit. These were really, really good.

The menu at BB is creative, different, and reasonably priced. Each menu item comes with a suggested beer pairing (which I summarily dismissed).

The atmosphere is relaxed, airy, and open. It's also busy as hell, so I hope you have a reservation if you plan on showing up.

I enjoyed my experience at Buca; I probably wouldn't need to go back, unless it was someone else's first choice. Beer Bistro was awesome and I would definitely go again.

Happy birthday, Katie!

Isn't It Bromantic

2012-01-07T12:21:00.004-05:00

Here's my rant for the day: Why are all the guys you find via online dating such total zeros? I know it seems like a question that should answer myself, but statistically, you'd think that out of the hundreds of thousands of members that these sites boast, there'd be one or two men out there that didn't list their preferences for "waxed or shaved bald a plus" in their profile (true story).

Instead, as a woman, I find that the majority of incoming messages come from older men in their forties. This, if nothing else, is truly indicative of today's bromance/manchild culture. A man today decides that he'll forgo commitment for the time being in order to play Call of Duty and all of its incumbent offspring from now until near-eternity. Then, once he's considerably older, balding, grey, and has little to offer (and maybe a few children out of wedlock trailing behind him), he reckons he'll just nip out and pick up a 29-year-old with a runner's figure.

I know this is a terrifically bitchy and violently generalized statement that will cause collateral damage to my Dating Karma™, resulting in my only being contacted from now on by men who list sexual taxidermy as one of their interests. BUT I FEEL BITCHY AND THIS IS MY BLOG.

Qallupilluit Have Dirty Noses

2012-01-06T15:41:00.004-05:00

While we're on the topic of scary children's literature, this book scared the everloving shit out of me as a child.

It's one of the less-known Robert Munsch books, written with Michael Kusugak, and based on an Inuit legend created over generations to keep Inuit children away from dangerous cracks in the ice. In the legends, the Qallupilluit takes many forms, but essentially, it's an otherworldly creature who lives under the ice and snatches children if they go too close to the edge without their parents around.

In the story, a young girl ignores her mother's advice and goes fishing in a crack in the ice. The Qallupilluit drags her down into the water, and only lets her go when she promises to bring back her younger siblings.

Fuck. That. Robert Munsch, you should have stuck to writing about farts.

A Sad Day in Scaresville

2012-01-03T20:35:00.006-05:00

Most any North American child who grew up in the late 80s or early 90s bears either fond memories or deep psychological scars (or both) from the children's horror anthology Scary Stories to Tell In The Dark.

The stories in these books were, more the most part, retellings of traditional folk horror tales: a pimple that turns out to be a clutch of spider's eggs; a killer dress soaked in formaldehyde. For children in the target demographic, while not groundbreaking, they did the job.

What really set these books apart, however, was the artwork by Stephen Gammell:

I have absolutely no idea how in the wide world of fuck these were ever approved for inclusion in a book for children, but I thank the gods of lackluster 80s parenting that they were.

Now, fear has been stuck into the hearts of long-standing fans anew: They've changed the artwork.

Original artwork for The Red Spot vs. new artwork

For whatever reason, Harper-Collins has decided, thirty years after its first publication in 1981, to replace the series' artwork with new renditions by Brett Helquist, best known for illustrating A Series of Unfortunate Events.

An entire generation of children will no longer experience the joy of taping book pages together in order to avoid the splotchy, organic horror that was Gammell's work; instead, they'll entire the magical world of Scary Potter, where spiders rest picturesquely on the cheeks of beautiful women, as opposed to oozing from them, as they ought to be.

A series of unfortunate events, indeed.

For the less morbid death-obsessed child, I suppose there's always Funnybones. It seems like Funnybones is more of a UK thing so I've no idea how I ever got a copy as a child, but Funnybones owned.

Wanna Meet That Family

2012-01-01T20:11:00.004-05:00

Some little nerd went off to camp for a month, and his parting words to his sister were a very serious Stay Out Of My Room. Cue the entire family flouting his parting wish by staging a series of photos taking place inside his precious den of privacy, including a pie-eating contest, a girls-only fort, polka dancing, an impromptu drive-thru, and his grandparents getting it on.

Amazing.

Courage, She Wrote

2012-01-01T16:51:00.004-05:00

So, while I said I planned to sleep through New Year's Eve (I lied; I was looking at the internet), I didn't necessarily say anything about New Year's Day. Originally, I had planned to do a long run and wait quietly for the malls to open again, but while walking down the beach earlier in the evening, I remembered New Year's Day the previous year, when I'd also gone for a walk along the beach - morose from my recent breakup, and looking for sea glass - and came across a group of brain-dead retards charging into the icy water in their bathing suits. At the time, I thought to myself: That's the ticket! I could be that brain-dead retard!

You can be anything you set your mind to. Therefore, myself and a friend quickly signed up for the Courage Polar Bear Dip.

Prior to the Dip, the beach was lined with policemen and fireman: a sight pleasing to the Lord. I don't know what aqua-scuba-policeman was doing out in the waves with his stick - jabbing at the sea to prove his dominance??

Feel free to enjoy this video of me dashing into the lake like a madwoman with yarn braids flying.

Before and after... note the slightly more murderous gleam in my eye in the 'after' photo.

I don't know what the official temperature of the water was - officially balls-cold - but it really isn't as bad as you would expect it to be. Granted, it was seven degrees, and there is no ice or snow to be found.

Scratch that one off the list, then. I did a couple of things that took courage today, actually. It's more or less all part of the plan. I gave up on Resolutions™, so to speak, a couple of years ago, but this year, I know what I want, and by God, I'm going to get it.

So watch out.

The Uncanny Valley

2011-12-31T12:12:00.002-05:00

The term "Uncanny Valley" traditionally refers to a sudden, vertical dip in a hypothetical graph of human reaction to human-like objects. For example: a humanoid robot? Not bothersome. Take it a little further, however, and most people will react negatively without being able to put their finger on the reason why.

I think the Uncanny Valley can be applied to just about any mundane item that, in certain situations, suddenly causes revulsion. Take the colloquially-named Underwater Largeness Phobia, for example. While not an official phobia per se, a Google search of the term will bring of hundreds of results from people who claim that everyday objects suddenly become horrifying the minute they're submerged underwater.

Frankly, I didn't even know it was a thing. I couldn't explain why I was filled with horror and revulsion whenever The Highlander merrily (well aware of my aversion) paddled toward the sheer lakeside cliffs (which continue down under the water for up to a stomach-turning 476 feet) at Bon Echo Provincial Park, causing me to bat furiously at the cliffside with my paddle in an attempt to get it away, get it away, get it away.

This thread currently running on Something Awful does a good job of summing up the usual idiotic Goon fears, such as passing windows or mirrors at night, the alien on the cover of Communion, and talking to girls. Quite a few people chimed in, however, at a hard-to-define and mercurial fear of things underwater. Not the usual things - one can't argue that there are definitely things underwater that merit our well-deserved suspicion: muskies with an affinity for painted toenails; slimy, tangle-ready seaweed; leeches congregated into fleshy, pulsating balls; this doesn't bother us - or me. We're talking other things. Big things. Things that shouldn't be there. Things that we put there.

A quick visual lesson in Okay vs. NOT OKAY.

With regard to myself specifically, I can't really call it a phobia. If I fell into the water beneath a bridge, you can be sure I'd be clinging onto that horrible, mysterious support truss as if it were the leg of Jesus himself. And I'll marvel at a dam with the best of any camera-toting, Hawaiian-shirt-wearing tourist out there. I'll just be filled with a silent, seething hatred while I do it.

This, however:

That is a Bell-Mouth or Morning Glory spillway. In fact, all of the spillways noted in that link are horrible; but only the Morning Glory can claim to be the asshole of Satan himself.

For most people, Lake Berryessa in California leaves a bad taste in the mouth as one of the sites of the Zodiac Killer murders. For me? It's the goddamn spillway. Fuck that thing.

Dams and weirs.

Dams and weirs can get fucked. That photo of the oblong, stepped weirs literally makes me sick to my stomach. It doesn't help that weirs are known among the kayaking and canoeing communities as "Drowning Machines". The natural cyclical flow of the water over a weir can press you under and keep you there indefinitely.

Offshore shipwrecks are found all over the world, just off the coast, rusting and horrible. Here's one off the coast of Dorset; and another in a horrible place called Nouadhibou. Tilted ships on their sides are awful, too. Don't fucking do that. Sink all of these fuckers so that I don't have to look at them. Some people even like to scuba dive around these, or swim right up to their horrible sides in order to climb on board. Once I was on board the ship, I wouldn't give a care; it's the approach that gets to me.

Lock on the Rideau Canal.

Locks are a minor variance for me. I used to live near Lock 7 of the Welland Canal in Thorold, Ontario (a town frightening enough by itself); when I was bored I would sometimes walk down to the lock to see the ships passing through, wave to the equally bored men on the ship, and suffer cardiac arrhythmia whenever the ship would honk its fearsome horn. I tried not to think of all that horrible water pouring into the lock; how deep the terrible, narrow canal must be in order to allow the passage of these huge steel ships; how unnaturally square the waterway... ugh. Fuck the ocean, and the sea, and the lakes.

Submerged propeller of the Queen Mary.

This is the submerged propeller of the Queen Mary, which I believe is located a relatively safe distance away in Long Beach, California. That scene everybody laughed at in Titanic aside, propellers are horrible. They are horrible, and they lurk. They are so well-known for their lurking, that those in charge of preserving the Queen Mary have even been careful to preserve the creepy, lurking properties of the propeller alongside the propeller itself. Ugh, I think I'm going to throw up.

All in all, if I have to be a Nervous Nellie about something, I'm glad it's something stupid like Underwater Largeness, and not, say, spiders, or something else I might regularly come into contact with in day-to-day life. I'm pretty sure I can even pinpoint the origin of my fear - I used to go to day camp at Valen's Conservation area where there was a large, man-made lake, and we were always warned not too paddle out too far in the canoe lest we get sucked into the drain. The combination of that vague threat with the fact that someone made a fake lake was just too much; so, forevermore, any sort of man-made architecture involved with water will have to be avoided directly after lunch.

And don't even get me fucking started on hydroelectric dams.

Chasing Waterfalls

2011-12-28T21:39:00.002-05:00

The city of Burlington is in a good position. Nestled in between the Greater Toronto and Greater Hamilton Areas, we've successfully managed to dodge the advances of both municipalities and go it alone (although Hamilton tries to touch us inappropriately on the bus sometimes), like the rich, fabulous aunt you have who always brings you something expensive and inexplicable whenever she visits.

That said, Toronto is a rich source of both concrete and Stores We Don't Have Here, and Hamilton has still managed to retain a fair amount of green space that hasn't yet been taken over by crumbling buildings that threaten to do your head in.

Of course, there's dick-all out there that's green just now, as we've now had the first snow of the year and are officially initiated into what will likely prove to be at least two months solid of winter fuckery. Before the shit really hits the fan, we decided to see some of the dozens of waterfalls in the Greater Hamilton Area before they freeze over completely. There's a good site sperging over all of the area's falls, here.

Borer's Falls

I wish there weren't a body bag or some shit stuck in the tree.

The gulch below Borer's Falls.

Borer's Creek as it runs under Rock Chapel Road.

Darnley Cascade

Darnley Cascade was a fucking treat. It's located right beside the very poorly-secured ruins of an old mill, circa 1829, so I immediately went in search of old nails and tetanus.

The road leading away from the mill.

The plank budget was clearly exhausted on the front of the building, as not a single entry round the back was impeded in any way.

Inside the mill.

Inside again, and also sort of outside.

Good view.

There were lots of lovely, deadly holes in the second floor, which certainly justify revisiting the plank budget in fiscal 2012.

The sky begins to clear, revealing... no nails for me to steal.

Webster's Falls

We didn't plan to visit Webster's or Tew's (below) falls, but they were on the way back from Borer's. Webster's were really impressive and I would definitely recommend seeing them and/or throwing amusing things from them if you're in the area.

The falls threw up a decent amount of mist over the deadly, deadly gorge.

The dead namesakes of Webster's Falls are buried on the grounds. I'm sure they're very pleased at all the screaming children disturbing their slumber 24/7.

Tew's Falls

I think Tew's Falls is probably a lot more impressive in the summertime. No dead bodies, though.

If some people would only volunteer to eat these berries, Tew's Falls could have a little graveyard of its own and earn some street cred.

Lower Mill Falls

Lower Mill Falls is a dear little cascade that has been more or less completely ruined by the Ancaster Old Mill building its jerk restaurant right on top of it.

The Devil's Punchbowl

My friend was not at all impressed by the Devil's Punchbowl, but he can help himself to a bowl of dick chowder, because the Devil's Punchbowl owns. It was visited by Super Dave Osborne, whose television show annoyed countless children in the early 1990s, and was the setting for the opening scene in the movie Silent Hill.

Albion Falls

Albion Falls is probably considered one of the most impressive falls in the GHA. It's also a bonafide, dog-eared favourite for dumping bodies. I like a waterfall that earns its keep.

Below the falls.

Atop the falls.

I really wouldn't mind seeing these falls (and some of the other ones) during the summer, when they're no doubt even more impressive and capable of carrying away unwanted corpses. If you're looking to explore falls in this area, the Top 16 Waterfalls page is a good place to start.

Come And Gone

2011-12-27T18:11:00.005-05:00

The holidays are over! I don't mind the holidays, but unless you 1) Have children; 2) Are a children; or 3) Have good reason to believe that one of the boxes under the tree contains a large rock not of the coal variety (or rather, of the compressed coal variety), they're just not as big a deal. In fact, they can be kind of an inconvenience. On Christmas Day, I had to drive all the way across town to find a Starbucks that was open (#FirstWorldProblems). Other than that, however, it was pretty keen. I'd opened all of my gifts by Christmas Eve anyway (we're all an impatient bunch), so with not much else to do, we saw a movie. The movie theaters are pretty busy on Christmas Day, so buying tickets in advance is a good idea, but I'd highly recommend it as an alternative to modelling the sweater Aunt Meryl gave you for the rest of the evening.

After a year working with a project team with no real vacation, however, I definitely appreciated the time off, as much as I enjoy my job.

Here is how the company I previously worked for celebrated the end of a project:

And here is how we do it where we are now:

It was my job to run the presentation from my lair behind the stage:

...and as you can see, I took it very seriously:

I guess there's just New Year's to get out of the way now, and then it's back to business. I never really cared much for New Year's anyway; we invented the damn Gregorian calendar in the first place, so what's the big deal?

I think I've slept through most of them anyway. The one time the Highlander and I did decide to have a party, he got drunk and sang to me like Freddie Mercury. That pretty much beat all.

Amazon says they shipped my chicken calendar - which is kind of a big deal - today, so I'm ready for you, fucker.

Stupid Non-Scottish People

2011-12-24T10:35:00.002-05:00

I'm so beyond pissed that I missed registration for the Robbie Burns 8k Race. Registration filled up in record time this year, and I'm apparently on some waiting list out in the ether, but you know what? All the non-Scottish people can just get right off that list. I don't run around in shamrock or baguette or sauerkraut costumes or whatever; get out of my kilt race if you are not Scottish, and leave room for us fearsome if slightly tardy Picts.

To console myself, I've registered for this:

Just over 5k (that's 3.24 miles, in US Moon Units) of obscure obstacles including rapelling down slopes, jumping over fire pits, slogging through mud, and God (or possibly the website) knows what else.

Ridiculous costumes are encouraged and sometimes rewarded. I wonder if I could knit an entire viking getup in addition to my helmet...

Fuck You, Bread

2011-12-18T19:30:00.002-05:00

So, Katie insisted that I open one of my Christmas presents early. Like, insisted. She had a crazy look in her eye; I was afraid I would get shanked if I resisted.

There was a nice breadmaker inside. I've made my share of loaves by hand in the past, but when you're as Busy And Important as I am, it's kind of a pain to coordinate. If you're not there at the exact right moment to rise/knead/rise again/put in the oven/remove from the oven, the bread is fucked. And I'm fucking sick of bread calling the shots. Fuck you, bread.

As a result, I've considered buying a breadmaker for myself before, but it usually ends up falling into the same category as Other Things I Need But Are Not Exciting To Spend Money On, like a vacuum, or a set of bedroom curtains so that children using the park across the street don't require therapy once they're finished playing on the slide.

The breadmaker does all of the work for you, and then beeps angrily at you when it's done, like, "Come and get your bread, cunt; I know you've just been sitting on your ass for the past three hours while I vibrate halfway across the counter, I don't think it's too much to ask." And then there is bread. I like it.

I sent a second package recently to a friend in Saskatchewan. First the Manitoba goon, and now Saskachewan; whenever I send packages to the Lesser Provinces (I went there), I picture them arriving on those huge UN pallets, like relief to a third-world country. Dirty children surround the pallets, covered in wheat and oil (or weed, if sending to B.C.): "Things from Ontario! They have actual stuff there!"

But seriously. I sent more peppermint bark, some sponge toffee, homemade dog biscuits shaped like little men (I didn't have a mailman cookie cutter), and brickle. Brickle is, like, the biggest white-trash candy ever, and it's highly popular among the "can't cook for shit" crowd. It's also very good. You should make this brickle.

As anyone in the corporate world knows, the holidays a time for team lunches. Approximately 75 of them per week. This is fortuitous, as when you're wrapping up a project and simultaneously transitioning to a new role, as I am, sometimes a lunch meeting is the only way you're going to get a lunch.

My latest team lunch, at the beloved Bamburger, got a little competitive. I think we all ordered about a jar's worth of their garlic mayonnaise between us, and at the end we all ordered their "sinful" butter tart:

We also recently got a really nice new lunchroom. Along with the usual bank of nice, stainless steel microwaves, fridges, and Kuerig coffee makers (ostensibly so that we'll all stop plundering the one on the 8th floor), there's also a display of Kitchenaid Artisan stand mixers:

I've made no bones about the fact that I plan to get into the glass case somehow and take home the seafoam green one in the foreground, which, in retrospect, will probably work out pretty badly for me if it ever does end up going missing for some reason.

Jurassic Bark

2011-12-17T18:08:00.002-05:00

Sometimes I feel like this guy.

Around the Web

2011-12-12T20:47:00.002-05:00

Build a Gingerbread Brownstone @ Kitchen Table Scraps: Fucking amazing. I was all about to start one of my own (she offers templates and everything) until I remembered that I had absolutely no need for such a thing. Forever a-brownstone.

Nemesis @ Hark! A Vagrant: I carry a picture of my nemesis to always fill me with vengeance. It's like why my ex is always reading my blog. Yeah... vengeance... that's the reason.

Snowman Kit Tutorial @ fleeting thing: When I was little we used to use pennies, and then I'd pitch a fit because to a four-year-old pennies are a pretty big deal and what will happen when the snowman melts?? Avoid this.

Caroling Word Garlands @ Craft: These are simple, striking, modern, and would be very easy to make yourself once you get the knack of stabbing the middle out of the "A"s. Could also be used for non-holiday applications. "I'M LEAVING YOU." "I HATE THAT ORANGE SHIRT YOU ALWAYS WEAR."

Pat The Zombie @ Amazon: When I was little, I really wanted the Pat The Bunny book. No one bought it for me. Now the Bunny is a zombie and it's too goddamn late now.

Penguin Threads @ Penguin Classics: Penguin Classics has released a small selection of classic books with beautiful embroidered cover art.

Retro-Style Space-Themed Stockings @ Craft: Oh, these are really good. Stockings should probably have UFOs on them usually as a general rule.

Deck The Halls With Boughs Of Apathy

2011-12-11T21:30:00.010-05:00

I've been catching a lot of flak for my attitude toward the holidays this year. I think that last year, people were able to understand why I decided to take a pass; this year, however, my general ambivalence toward merrymaking and cheap, flashy tat (which, admittedly, I usually have a fair amount of enthusiasm for) is generally being regarded with a thinly-veiled air of tolerance. Like a 22-year-old who's just declared that she intends never to have children, people smile softly, incline their heads, and cheerily say, "You'll change your mind when the time comes!"

While I can agree that the draw of a deliciously commercial celebration that puts the green light on gluttonous amounts of food and several paid days off from work is somewhat more alluring than that of diaper duty, I still wasn't sure this year just how far I was willing to go. Sure, I've invoked my Gift Whispering powers and picked up a few things here and there for the people in my life I wouldn't like to see permanently destroyed. I jog by the famous Christmas lights on Spruce Avenue and can appreciate them. But, a tree? Lights? A tiny plastic deer with a bell around its neck? I dunno, man.

Not long after the Christmas before last, I picked up a great deal of beautiful vintage glass Christmas ornaments, hand-picked from several antique malls and flea markets in the area. They were not cheap. I know they would look perfect on my gaudy silver tree (alas, I have not yet found my holy grail item, a vintage aluminum feather tree). I looked forward to them all year. And then, we broke up.

As a result, Christmas last year, obviously, could get fucked. I did not put up a tree. I did not exchange gifts. My heart did not grow any number of sizes in either direction.

So, now I'm at the middle-point. Just far enough away that it shouldn't matter; just close enough that it still secretly does, at least a little bit.

My feelings about the breakup aside, no amount of time can change the fact that it's the holidays, and I'm forced to be away from my one true love; the one I know I'm meant to be with forever. The one whose smile lit up the room and filled me with so much happiness.

His mom.

No, but really, I miss his family. As far as I was concerned, they were my real family. This may have created some serious issues with regard to incest, but that's neither here nor there; from what I've heard my "real" father was a suspected cross-dresser who was addicted to online porn and strip clubs, so we're really not going out on a limb here.

Anyway, I'm having a Grown-Up Dinner Party (we're going to drink and play video games and order in as I'm so blasted these past few weeks that I can't be buggered to cook) this weekend, so I figured I'd better chuck a few things up. What the hey. I couldn't let my poor little ornaments languish in their boxes for another whole year. And Katie really likes shiny things.

The green bell you see is clear, whereas most vintage Christmas ornaments you find have silvering inside. The reason a few of the bell ornaments I have are clear as opposed to silvered is because they were manufactured during wartime, when such materials were scarce.

These Shiny Brites with the hollow centres are really special, and some of my favourites.

So, it's done. My floor is covered in little glittery needles, and the parrot is appropriately traumatized by the amount of unusual activity in proximity to his cage (Side note: He voluntarily landed on my head for the first time today. However, he also voluntarily landed on my computer for the first time yesterday, so I'm not sure it's as much of a compliment as it seems). I even put a set of vintage Noma candles on the radio, so that the grim specter of household electrical fires can cast a festive pallor over the season.

Truthfully, I have a lot more stuff. It could be festive as fuck in here. Comparatively, it's festmeh.

I'm halfway there. I don't know where to, but I'm halfway there.

And I swear his mom and I will get back together someday if it's the last thing I do.

You And Me Could Write A Bad Syntax

2011-12-09T11:19:00.003-05:00

What the shit is this fuck?

Is this like when idiots hold their gun sideways because they saw the black guy on CSI doing it? Is it some kind of math club gang sign? "I'm greater than." "Yeah? Well I'm less than. We have to fight."

I guess it could have its uses:

% Response.Write("I am a douchebag") %

Mischief managed.

Like a Prayer

2011-12-08T23:45:00.002-05:00

There's a Catholic church on the way home from my gym. Regardless of the hour, it's always lit up inside, with little old Italian ladies going in and out to confess coveting their neighbor's casserole recipe or whatever.

I should think I'd like to get married in a Catholic church, if only for the pomp and circumstance. Given that I know someone who was rejected by no less than 10 churches before finding a venue simply because she was a lapsed Catholic, it should make for an interesting conversation at the very least:

Priest: So, are you a member of this church?
Me: No.
Priest: Another Catholic church, then?
Me: No.
Priest: Are you a member of any church? Do you at least believe in God?
Me: No. Well, I don't know. I'd have to think about it.
Priest: Then why on earth would you want to be married here?
Me: Well, I figured what with the guests receiving the Eucharist and all, we could cut back on the canapes at the reception.

This woman has started a Tumblr of notes to her future husband. It sounds kind of lame, but she's pretty funny. And, by the sounds of it, really really needs to find someone to lay in the meantime. Like, soon.

I don't need a whole Tumblr of notes to my future husband. It can be summed up pretty quickly:

Dear Future Husband:

Obviously you got distracted by the latest edition of Call of Duty Modern Halo Warfare Fallout or whatever you kids are playing these days, and that is the reason you are so gravely late.

When we meet, the first thing I will do is take a hammer to your Xbox. This is how you shall know me.

Regards,
She Needs Therapy.

You Don't Need To Hide, My Friend

2011-12-05T20:33:00.005-05:00

These guys do a really sick live cover of Scary Monsters and Nice Sprites by Skrillex...

...and an acoustic version that's oddly calming, like something Paw would strum you on the porch of a summer's evening:

Mark Zuckerberg Killed Himself. FOREVER.

2011-12-04T19:35:00.001-05:00

I would watch the shit out of this movie, if it were real. I would also be the girl standing on a street corner holding a bundt cake, yelling "LOOK AT THIS CAKE! I MADE IT ALL BY MYSELF!"

A Very Goony Christmas

2011-12-04T16:15:00.000-05:00

The mise-en-place to end all mises-en-places.

For those counting, that's one bag of flour, two bags of white sugar, one bag of maple sugar, two blocks and one stick of butter (that's 9 sticks altogether, for you Americans using your butter moon units), sea salt, fleur de sel, sweetened condensed milk, just under a pound of various Callebaut chocolate chips, cream, cocoa powder, eggs (I use free-run only), crushed peppermints, two grapefruits, three oranges, two lemons, and four limes.

Still to be added in this photo: a loaf of pumpkin bread, a jar of citrus jelly, and some Carrot Cake Tea from DAVIDsTEA.

There were plenty of leftovers even after filling the box, enough for my lovely photography assistant and the guy who Facebook insists is my boyfriend.

Since the Goons With Spoons Holiday Exchange is all about sharing recipes and whatnot, some poor goon will receive a link to this entry because I'm far too lazy to write it all out, and my handwriting looks like a pile of fallen sticks, anyway. And my printer is so cheap and low on ink that I'd probably be better off trying to describe the ingredients through interpretive dance. So, hello, Goon. Welcome to my nightmare.

The recipes

I don't have any photos of the pumpkin bread, but I've made it many times before:

Pumpkin Bread

1 (15 ounce) can pumpkin puree (I used fresh, homemade puree)
4 eggs
1 cup vegetable oil
2/3 cup water
3 cups white sugar
3 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking soda
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1/2 teaspoon ground cloves
1/4 teaspoon ground ginger

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease and flour three 7x3 inch loaf pans.

In a large bowl, mix together pumpkin puree, eggs, oil, water and sugar until well blended. In a separate bowl, whisk together the flour, baking soda, salt, cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves and ginger. Stir the dry ingredients into the pumpkin mixture until just blended. Pour into the prepared pans.

Bake for about 50 minutes in the preheated oven. Loaves are done when toothpick inserted in center comes out clean.

Citrus Jelly

I don't have photos of this, either - deal. I made it to use up the flesh from the fruit peels needed for the candied citrus peel.

2 1/4 cups prepared juice
3 1/2 cups sugar
1/2 tsp butter or margarine
2 pouches liquid fruit pectin

Stir sugar into juice in saucepot. Add butter to reduce foaming. Bring mixture to full rolling boil (a boil that doesn't stop bubbling when stirred) on high heat, stirring constantly. Stir in pectin. Return to full rolling boil and boil exactly 1 minute, stirring constantly. Remove from heat. Skim off any foam with metal spoon.

Ladle quickly into prepared jars, filling to within 1/8 inch of tops. Wipe jar rims and threads. Cover with two-piece lids.

Mexican Hot Chocolate Cookies

2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
2 teaspoons cream of tartar
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon coarse salt
1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, room temperature
1 3/4 cups sugar
2 large eggs
2 teaspoons cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon chile powder

Preheat oven to 400 degrees, with racks in upper and lower thirds. In a medium bowl, sift together flour, cocoa powder, cream of tartar, baking soda, and salt. In a large bowl, using an electric mixer, beat butter and 1 1/2 cups sugar on medium speed until light and fluffy, about 2 minutes. Scrape down side of bowl. Add eggs and beat to combine. With mixer on low, gradually add flour mixture and beat until combined.

In a small bowl, combine remaining 1/4 cup sugar, cinnamon, and chile powder (if using). Using heaping tablespoons, form balls of dough and roll in cinnamon-sugar mixture. Place, about 3 inches apart, on two parchment-lined baking sheets. Bake until cookies are set in center and begin to crack, about 10 minutes, rotating sheets halfway through. Let cookies cool on sheets on wire racks 5 minutes, then transfer cookies to racks to cool completely. Store in an airtight container, up to 1 week.

Batter!

Making the mixture for the coating

Rolling the balls

The finished product, ready for the oven

Candied Citrus Peel

2 grapefruits, 3 oranges, or 4 lemons
4 cups sugar, plus more for rolling
4 cups water

Using a paring knife, make 6 slits along curve from top to bottom of each citrus fruit, cutting through peel but not into fruit. Using your fingers, gently remove peel. Reserve fruit for another use. Slice each piece of peel lengthwise into 1/4-inch-wide strips. Using a paring knife, remove excess pith from each strip and discard.

Place strips in a large saucepan, and cover with cold water. Bring to a boil, then drain. Repeat twice.

Bring sugar and water to a boil, stirring occasionally until sugar dissolves. Stop stirring. Wash sides of pan with a wet pastry brush to prevent sugar crystals from forming. Add strips to boiling syrup, reduce heat to medium-low, and simmer gently until strips are translucent, about 1 hour. Remove from heat, and let strips cool in syrup. Strips in syrup will keep, covered and refrigerated, for up to 3 weeks.

Using a slotted spoon, transfer strips to a wire rack placed on a rimmed baking sheet. Wipe off excess syrup with paper towels, then roll strips in sugar. Arrange in a single layer on a wire rack, and let dry for at least 30 minutes.

During one of the many rounds of boiling and draining...

Multitasking. Tablet boiling away in the foreground.

Looks shady as hell after being boiled in the syrup.

Peppermint Bark

25g high-quality semi-sweet chocolate chips (I used Callebaut)
25g high-quality white chocolate chips
1 tsp peppermint extract
1/2 c crushed peppermint candies

Melt the semi-sweet chips using a bain-marie; spread into container. Refrigerate until set. Melt the white chocolate chips using a bain marie; after removing from heat, stir in peppermint extract and spread over semi-sweet chocolate. Spread crushed peppermint candies over all. Allow to set, and break into pieces.

Cooking the semi-sweet carefully over a water bath.

I don't know how the hell I'll get you out of this container later, but in you go.

Again with the white chocolate...

Spread it over quickly, it was seizing like a whore in Times Square.

Crushed peppermint covers unattractively-spread chocolate nicely.

Maple Shortbread

1/2 c maple sugar
1 c unsalted butter
1 tsp salt
1/4 c sugar
2 tsp maple extract
1 tsp vanilla extract
2 1/3 c flour

Preheat oven to 300 degrees. Lightly grease 2 9" round pans.

Cream together butter, salt, white sugar, maple sugar, maple extract, and vanilla. Beat in flour.

Divide the dough in half and press it into the prepared pans. Prick the dough with a fork. Bake for 35-40 minutes, until golden brown around the edges. Cut each round into wedges while still warm.

MULTITASKING. That's the sugar syrup for the lollipops in the foreground I believe.

I have no idea why I look so placid about the shortbread dough.

PRESS YOU

FORK YOU

That dough's been given a good and proper forking. Wish I could say the same for myself.

Fleur de Sel Salted Caramel Lollipops

2 cups granulated sugar
2/3 cup light corn syrup
3/4 cup water
1 tsp caramel flavouring (I used LorAnn Oils)
2 tbsp fleur de sel
Lollipop sticks

Lightly grease a lollipop mold. Sprinkle 1 tbsp of the fleur de sel into the molds. Place sticks into the molds.

In a large saucepan, mix together sugar, corn syrup and water. Stir over medium heat until sugar dissolves. Insert candy thermometer, making certain it does not touch the bottom of the pan. Bring mixture to a boil without stirring.

Continue to cook the syrup, without stirring, removing from heat precisely at 300° F, or until drops of syrup form hard, brittle threads in cold water (hard crack stage). After boiling action has ceased, add flavor and stir.

Pour into the prepared molds. Sprinkle the remaining 1 tbsp fleur de sel before candy sets.

Preparing the molds with salt.

Wait, what am I doing here?

Oh, yeah - WITCHCRAFT

Pouring the flesh-renderingly-hot syrup into the mold.

Finishing off with more salt. Sure hope my Goon doesn't have any blood pressure issues.

I am the god of Scottish tablet. This is a primarily Scottish food, and therefore the recipe is in Scottish moon units. Because having their own banknotes wasn't enough.

Making tablet is based more on feeling than measurement. While you usually use a candy thermometer when working with boiling sugar, with tablet, it isn't required. Tablet is really something you just have to develop a feel for making.

1kg vanilla sugar*
1 tin sweetened condensed milk
100g unsalted butter
1/2 c milk

*Place one or two vanilla pods in a bag of sugar for at least one month prior to making this recipe.

Damp the sugar with cold milk in the pan. Add the butter and the condensed milk, and turn the heat on medium-high.

Keep stirring evenly until the mixture comes to the boil; this usually takes about ten minutes.

Once the mixture boils, turn the heat down low. Stir occasionally to stop the mix sticking. You'll notice the mixture darken slightly; keep stirring now and then. It'll take about 20 minutes for the mix to cook.

Take the pan off the heat, and start stirring vigorously. Try to mix in some of the crystallized mixture that has formed on the side of the pan; what we're trying to do is to get the mixture to form large enough crystals that it will set, but small enough crystals that it will still pour. Once you feel the spoon stirring slightly grittily on the base of the pan, and the mixture being slightly stiffer, it's ready to pour.

Quickly pour the mixture into the buttered baking tray. Once set, cut or break into chunks.

Stir you lovingly, tablet

Katie distracts from the tablet momentarily with a gift.

Into the pan it goes!

I am FUCKING SERIOUS about equally-sized little tablet bars. It is not a joke.

Carefully, now...

For someone who consistently failed mathematics, I'm pretty decent at eyeballing things.

Chocolate Meringues

These looked like shit - literally and figuratively - I think I botched the timing between cooking the syrup and beating the egg whites. But they still tasted awesome, so they ended up getting included anyway.

1 cup sugar
4 large egg whites
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1 tablespoon cocoa powder, plus more for dusting

Heat oven to 225 degrees. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper, and set aside.
In a small saucepan, heat sugar and 1/2 cup water over low heat until sugar dissolves. Bring to a boil; cook until liquid reaches 248 degrees (hard-ball stage) on a candy thermometer.

Meanwhile, in the bowl of an electric beater fitted with the whisk attachment, whip egg whites on low speed until soft peaks form. Increase speed to high, and add hot syrup in a steady stream, beating constantly. Continue beating until cool and stiff, about 5 minutes. Beat in vanilla. Fold in cocoa powder.

Spoon meringue into a large pastry bag fitted with a coupler and large plain tip. Pipe meringue onto prepared baking sheet. Bake until dry, about 2 hours. Store in an airtight container until ready to use.

Lovely, shiny meringue just waiting to fuck your shit up.

I am SO MAD here. I hate folding. I just want to stir like a normal person.

GET INTO MY PASTRY BAG

Such concentration.

That's all I've got. Merry Holidays, Goon Stranger.

Close Your Eyes And Think Of...

2011-12-03T23:46:00.004-05:00

Just finished a four-hour baking MARATHON. Photos, as I'm sure you can imagine, are forthcoming. Just a few extra things to finish up tomorrow...

It was so fucking nice taking care of my daily run at the office gym on lunch on Friday. I'll never give up running outside as my primary option - it leaves something to be desired when your usual playlist is augmented by checking emails on BlackBerry and watching a BET video circuit that you can't hear - but I was so fucking excited to get home and know that I had absolutely no obligations for the rest of the evening. Until I remembered all of the other bullshit I had to do, of course.

My counter-offer was accepted and now my present and future departments are battling over who gets me when. It was recommended that I don't get involved in the bloodshed, so I just sit there quietly and plot my trip to Edinburgh this year.

Oh, and P.S. - I had some Pumpkin Pie Pop Tarts last week and they were every bit as godly as I imagined.

Like A Boss

2011-12-01T18:04:00.001-05:00

I got promoted today, gloat gloat gloat.

Bad Romance

2011-11-30T17:40:00.005-05:00

I seem to have cultivated a keen sense for sniffing out - and subsequently dating - total dickbags. I'm convinced that this is a marketable skill. "OVERPROTECTIVE FATHERS:", the posters could read. "MY VAGINA IS A DOWSING ROD FOR MEN YOUR DAUGHTER SHOULDN'T DATE."

While I've never actually been cheated on - that I'm aware of, anyway - it seems like the men I've been with have always tried to push the boundaries of what's typically deemed acceptable within the hazy borderlines of a relationship. Expensive dinners with old flames; online dating profiles "accidentally" left active; worrisome email exchanges with co-workers; reenactments of Dirty Dancing in which I was not the one playing the role of Baby.

I'm not sure if this is typical or not, but if the Tiger Woods-Elin Nordegren scandal has taught me anything, it's that no matter how beautiful, talented, or successful a woman is, eventually her man will get tired of fucking her.

Men love variety. They crave it. I'm told this is hard-wired; since they're pretty much manufacturing tiny DNA factories 24/7 (as opposed to a woman's paltry, if arguable, once per month), they naturally want to cover as much ground (and boobs, and faces) as possible.

Women are supposed to be naturally more selective. We've got all of our eggs in one basket, so to speak. But I'm not thinking about my eggs; in fact, this entire line of thinking is completely incomprehensible to me. I'm a creature of habit. I want to eat the same thing for breakfast every day; I want to sit in the same seat on the train; I want to play the same level of Cut The Rope over and over again until I get all of the stars; and I want to snark at the same person every day when I get home. I want predictability when it comes to my relationships.

I guess that's why, in a way, it's always strangely comforting when the next one turns out to be just as disappointing as the last.

Communist Chocolate Hellhole

2011-11-29T15:06:00.002-05:00

This is amazing - even if it's just an old April Fool's article:

Man arrested at Large Hadron Collider claims he's from the future

...Mr Cole, who was wearing a bow tie and rather too much tweed for his age, would not reveal his country of origin. "Countries do not exist where I am from. The discovery of the Higgs boson led to limitless power, the elimination of poverty and Kit-Kats for everyone. It is a communist chocolate hellhole and I'm here to stop it ever happening."

Too Many Dicks On The Dancefloor

2011-11-28T21:16:00.008-05:00

Update on the PC stuff: The Classic Aioli is pretty amazing. Usually I make my own, but this beats the hell of of mincing and scraping garlic.

The Bacon Marmalade Spread is not really as fearsome or radical as one might expect. I think they ventured a little too far into fruity territory with this one(but still not as fruity as Twilight, schwing!). Too much marmalade and not enough bacon. But it's not terrible.

The Umami Paste? I honestly don't know. I did add it to some turkey chili as promised, but I'm afraid that it might not be a fair review as I highly suspect that the turkey was rancid. I just took it out of the damn freezer so I have no idea why, but it smelled like the set of The Walking Dead. I ate it anyway. I have an iron stomach. Look at all the fucks I give.

Speaking of The Walking Dead, I've just started reading the graphic novels. They're a pretty quick read, as most of the content seems to be comprised of the characters gaping at each other for several frames (which means that the series is more or less true to the novels). I've also finally downloaded the first season of House onto my newly-jailbroken iPod touch. That was a fucking process; I ended up quickly getting frustrated and handing it to The Man to finish while I concentrated on finding a pirated copy of Angry Birds.

I have the ENTIRE WEEK to myself since The Man is down in Central America getting botulism or beaver fever or whatever the hell it is they give you down there. WHILE THE CAT'S AWAY, THE KITTEN WILL PLAY.

...the kitten has been doing a lot of laying on the couch. Sometimes I doubt that I even have time to be in a relationship. They are SO time-consuming. My ex, you see, nursed a burning and secret disdain for me in his heart and as a result wanted to see me roughly never, which actually worked pretty well with my schedule. I've had to now join the gym at work to make up for the evenings when I haven't got time to run, which brings the total of gyms I'm a member of to two.

However, it might be nice to be a member of a gym where there isn't a trainer trying to stand on the 120lb sled I'm dragging in between talking about how great my ex-boyfriend's dad thinks I am because he just happens to work for him as his day job (apparently Kevin Bacon decided six degrees was too much).

Sometimes I wonder if I will ever escape. If it's not that, it's getting stuck behind a Toyota Highlander while I'm trying to run errands, or innocently wandering around Holt Renfrew looking for fancy chocolate bars and somehow ending up in the M----- section - now who the FUCK knew there was a designer called M------!?

I've decided that the universe IS trying to tell me something after all. It's trying to tell me that it's a huge dick.

This never happened when I was dating a Balandowich.

Around the Web

2011-11-27T10:17:00.002-05:00

Wish List @ Love It A Lot: We hate the snobby bints at White Elephant (for all their grandstanding on their blog, they're not very friendly), but the reproduction vintage Christmas cards they got in recently are gorgeous.

Quiet Tones @ Love It A Lot: ...and I love the way she's displaying the canned goods she put up this year, even if I hope a little bit that they give her botulism.

Postcard @ PostSecret: Some newly-wed lady cuts to the chase on PostSecret.

What's the most bachelor thing you've ever done? @ Something Awful: Classic Something Awful thread that saw the birth of the cumvase as a thing. Epic.

We REALLY Love Fabric! @ Spool: Some fabric-inspired tattoos over on the Spool blog. I'm partial to the dandelion.

Recycled license plate keychains @ Etsy: Would make a really neat gift for someone who appreciates vintage items, upcycled items, or just someone you kind of hope accidentally cuts themselves on it.

Vintage Cameras as Night Lights @ Gizmodo: I can't decide if this is amazing, or a terrible bastardization of these little cameras. They look really neat, anyway.

Muchos Hornos

2011-11-26T22:53:00.001-05:00

Now this is a PROPER trumpet song.

Size Matters

2011-11-22T21:12:00.016-05:00

LOOK AT THIS 1-POUND SNICKERS BAR. I want it. Just like I always want the comically large, $80 Toberone Bars they sell at Shopper's Drugmart around the holidays every year. I am still waiting for the knight in shining armour who will buy me that bar. I will marry that man.*

*Editor's Note: I will not marry that man, but I will take his chocolate

Finally got a chance to pick up some of the PC Black Label stuff: Taste #5 Umami Paste (which I plan to add to some turkey chili tonight), garlic aioli, and the rather infamous bacon marmalade. Links would probably be helpful I realise, but I'm updating this via BlackBerry, so stuff it.

As you can see, I also located a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup the size of a HOCKEY PUCK. It's ALMOST as good as a Snickers loaf.

A tub of PC Red Velvet Ice Cream was safely located and procured. I'm a little disappointed that they decided to market this under their Ice Cream Shop Flavours line, rather than, say, their Loads Of line. As the reviews on the product page generally agree, the subtle cream cheese flavouring is a nice touch, but it would have really benefited overall if there were waaay more chunks of actual cake.

Even aside from their Black Label line, Fortinos seems to have expanded the number of luxury products they carry overall. This square of Berger rose-champagne white chocolate was a cool $8.50. I stared longingly at it until someone bought it for me.

And in case you think I sit around eating junk all day (I do), I came up with a soup the other day while making large batches suitable for weekday dinners when I have no fucking time to cook.

I know that as a pseudo-food blogger, I'm supposed to be taking a beautiful photo of my majestic creation arranged in perfect vintage tableware on an exquisitely weathered piece of barn wood with a sullen hipster girl lurking somewhere in the background, but if I had time for that goddamn shit, I wouldn't be making Amish-sized portions of food intended to sustain me for the next two weeks. Enjoy the BlackBerry photo.

"I Want Italian Wedding Soup But I'm Too Lazy To Roll Meatballs And I Hate The Way The Ground Meat Always Gets Stuck Under Your Fingernails" Soup

4 Italian turkey sausages, cooked and sliced
10 cups chicken stock
3 cups ditali pasta
1 tin white kidney beans
1 bag spinach
1 Parmesan rind

Bring the stock to a boil and dump in everything else. Continue cooking on medium-high heat until the pasta is cooked. THE END.

Don't be a total cheapskate and leave the Parmesan rind out; it really makes a difference in that it imparts flavour and thickens the soup very slightly. By rind, I mean the part with the printing on it that would have faced the open air while the cheese was curing, and is usually discarded. Buy real Parmesan always - on the block, whenever possible - it's not cheap, so either check your deli often to see if they are selling smaller, more affordable pieces, or wait for it to go on sale. For the love of God, don't use that shit in the green plastic canister. For anything.

Confidential to Mr. "It's Too Soon": I can see BlackBerry hits, you know. Er, especially the extra frequent ones (busted!). I hope you don't do undercover work as I'm not sure I could get the time off for your funeral.

Weekend Road Trip

2011-11-22T18:28:00.005-05:00

Random cows; Ganaraska Forest

On the farm where we went ATVing, there were a lot of old log buildings. The use of the interlocking saddle notch corner method along with the use of chink and daub to fill the gaps between the logs indicate that the buildings were either hastily built, or built by someone with little construction knowledge. I don't know if claim shanties were common to the area, but that would answer some questions. The houses are fairly early, as indicated by the handmade nail in the last photo of the series.

Other random scenery on the farm:

And around the area...

Callaghan's Rapids Conservation Area (Click photo for big)

Sharbot Lake

Here's a video of me trying out the ATV. Warning: it's rather dull to watch overall and I'm wearing an unflattering hat. I'm also swearing and/or confused throughout most of the video, but that's really nothing unexpected.

Aw Yiss

2011-11-21T21:29:00.002-05:00

(Hark, A Vagrant)

It's taking so motherfucking long to edit all of the photos and video from this weekend. Here are some bread crumbs.

Road Trip Discovery #1

2011-11-19T12:15:00.003-05:00

That's Racist™

The Happy Pigeon

2011-11-16T21:04:00.007-05:00

What a week it's been so far. My BlackBerry is constantly vibrating, as if Michael J. Fox has died, come back as a ghost, and immediately seized the thing.

For every question, there is an answer. When the question is, When am I going to have some time to myself, and where is the nearest bottle of Vicodin?, the answer is:

As per usual, President's Choice has come out with a glut of products for the holidays. I've already mentioned their new red velvet cake mix; they've also debuted a pumpkin spice loaf mix, a whoopie pie mix, and the above peanut-butter filled pretzels, which come in three coatings: peanut butter, white frosting, and milk chocolate.

This is, of course, in addition to the recent launch of their Black Label Collection, which to be entirely frank doesn't impress me overmuch, with the exception of a morbid curiosity with regard to the bacon marmalade spread.

I find that when I'm stressed out, my brain tries to throw a wrench in the works by distracting itself with unwelcome thoughts, like, If I had a bakery, I'd call it The Happy Pigeon. Or, It would be really gross if spiders had bones, and left little skeletons lying around everywhere.

Sometimes I like to pass the time - when I have some - by looking up knitting patterns on Ravelry, despite the fact that I haven't really knitted anything since a sweater I was making for the Highlander that was in progress when we split (the Sweater Curse is real!!).

Since Ravelry is more or less an open forum for pattern sharing, there are some real gems:

A Glock christmas stocking. Merry Christmas!

This stocking has a dinosaur playing the guitar, which is pretty boss.

...and I want to make these bird socks for basically no good reason at all.

I'm about to read A History of Scotland, by my future husband, archaeologist Neil Oliver. I've been watching the garbage UK reality show The World's Strictest Parents, where British teens whinge about their lot in life from various locations throughout the world.

I'm counting down until I can crash some ATVs. I'm also debating signing up for some horseback riding lessons. It seems like a proper lady thing to do, yes?

EDITED TO ADD: No.

Bad Bukkake

2011-11-14T21:13:00.003-05:00

Tim Horton's latte - in select areas of Toronto, the inexplicable Canadian institution of coffee has started serving "premium" (their word, not mine) espresso-based drinks.

I don't know what the fuck that was, but it sure as hell wasn't a latte. It was so sweet, I felt like I'd blown the entire Lollipop Guild. And they aren't kidding about the smiley-face stencil, shown above (though mine looked as though it skipped a chromosome or two at the gamete stage). A smiley-face stencil? On my latte? Look - lattes should not have have designs stencilled on them, and if they do, it should be of a skull and crossbones, which reflects my approximate mood at the time of buying them, first thing in the morning. Or a stencil of a cunt. Is that too technically advanced for a milk-foam canvas?

By all indication, this weekend should be sick. Go Tempura on Friday, in the Hipster District of Hamilton, and then a mini-roadtrip up north which will culminate in my driving an ATV for the first time and likely crashing it into a tree. Whoops!

Festive Christmas Balls

2011-11-13T16:18:00.003-05:00

Neilsen-Massey Madagascar Bourbon vanilla, organic maple sugar, Callebaut white and milk chocolates, a big box, and the most annoying little styrofoam balls I could find for packaging purposes... it must be almost time for the annual Something Awful Goons With Spoons Secret Santa food exchange.

This year's lineup:

Scottish tablet
Fleur de sel salted caramel lollipops
Candied citrus peel
Mexican chocolate cookies
Meringue mushrooms
Peppermint bark
Maple shortbread

Bart should have the assignments out by December 1st... let the ingredient hoarding begin!

Fail o' the Day

2011-11-12T16:05:00.004-05:00

*facepalm*

3/3 Ain't Bad

2011-11-11T18:13:00.003-05:00

Quote of the Day:

"You need a man who adds you to Facebook and treats you amazing and celebrates holidays."
-Julia, who always gets to the heart of the matter

Sugar Daddy

2011-11-10T17:58:00.003-05:00

Working?

You need coffee.

One of the best things remaining about The Holidays™ since I more or less suspended celebration of them indefinitely are the so-called holiday beverages that the major coffee houses taunt us with as soon as Halloween is ushered out.

In Canada, you're looking at the Big Three: Starbucks, whose holiday menu is more or less infamous at this point; Second Cup, whose maple latte reigns supreme, but whom I generally eschew because they refuse to carry sugar-free syrups for some reason; and Timothy's World Coffee, which, in my past experience, has always been unanimously horrible. Strictly speaking, Tim Horton's is probably more popular in Canada than any of these three, but I'm not aware of them ever doing anything special in recognition of the holidays, apart from perhaps burning their coffee for a slightly shorter period of time to celebrate their holiday spirit.

Recently, I tried the Chocolate Pumpkin Spice LatteBene from Timothy's fall line. I regretted it almost immediately; it was somehow mind-bendingly sweet and watery at the same time, and probably the most awkward culinary combination I have come across since the time I got desperate and put Nutella on a Ryvita cracker.

That said, as part of their Holiday line of beverages, they've introduced a Red Velvet LatteBene:

More Red #5 than you can shake a stick at.

Red velvet, aside from the odd fleeting trend, is grossly under-represented as a flavour in Canada. It's mostly a Southern thing. And we can't just rock up to Topp's Friendly Wegmans or whatever the hell it is and grab a box of mix like you people can; we have to rely on either the questionable Duff Goldman mix, available at Michael's, or the vastly overpriced Sprinkles Cupcake Mix from Williams-Sonoma.

The Red Velvet Cake Bar from Dylan's Candy Bar is nothing short of life-altering, but I've yet to confirm if it's included in the limited Dylan's selection at Holt Renfrew, plus I swear to God that if I walk past the shoe section in there one more time a pair of Louboutins is coming home with me, and I don't care how much they cost.

In case you can't tell, I'm more or less every bit as rabid about red velvet as I am about pumpkin.

Surprisingly, the Red Velvet LatteBene was pretty all right. It's still a little on the watery side, and they don't seem to make nutrition information readily available for their products, so that more or less precludes Timothy's from ever being more than a very rare occurrence. But they came pretty close. Based on the colour displayed about I expect this will be pretty popular with those retards who like to run around pretending they're vampires.

[Edit: It looks like Presidents Choice has very recently debuted their own Red Velvet Cake Mix. Hooray!]

2011-11-10T09:33:00.002-05:00

Good deal for Canadians... Go and buy a tub of their nonpareil chocolates!

$10 for $20 at Whole Foods

Cousin Clint

2011-11-08T22:06:00.000-05:00

I cried like a bitch at the end. STUPID TRICK DOCUMENTARY.

HBO: The Memory Loss Tapes

Hamilton Marathon

2011-11-06T15:34:00.005-05:00

Every second is a lifetime
And every minute more brings you closer to God
And you see nothing but the red lights
You let your body burn like never before

And it feels better than love
Yeah it feels better than love

(I forgot to end the workout on my iPod right away - my actual time was 2:06.)
Playlist
1. Cinema - Skrillex
2. First of the Year (Equinox) - Skrillex
3. Scary Monsters and Nice Sprites - Skrillex
4. Bad Romance - Lady Gaga (Skrillex Remix)
5. Born This Way - Lady Gaga (Skrillex Remix)
6. Stay - Hurts
7. Better Than Love - Hurts
8. Sunday - Hurts
9. Come Undone - Duran Duran
10. Leave a Light On - Duran Duran
11. Want - The Cure
12. Moves Like Jagger - Maroon 5 Feat. Christina Aguilera
13. Pumped Up Kicks - Foster the People
14. Helena Beat - Foster the People
15. Color on the Walls (Don't Stop) - Foster the People
16. Miracle - Tori Amos
17. Bouncing Off Clouds - Tori Amos
18. Alejandro - Lady Gaga
19. Poker Face - Lady Gaga
20. Judas - Lady Gaga
21. Fashion of His Love - Lady Gaga
22. Fade Into Darkness - AVICII
23. Rakim - Dead Can Dance
24. Personal Jesus - Depeche Mode
25. No Love - Eminem
26. Faith - George Michael

Ughhhh it's early.

Take a photo of me stretching, so my personal trainer will stop bitching at me for never stretching.

WATER OR GTFO

Behold: My space cape

Finishing the race is funny; first, you're attacked with a water bottle (see dirty look for Water Man, above), then with a medal, then a space cape.

Thanks as always to the lovely Katie for documenting the occasion as well as ferrying my crusty ass there at 7 in the morning, and back through the ridiculous traffic and detours!

Next up: the Santa Clause 5k, Robbie Burns 8k (still have to register), and then Around the Bay in late March. Next November I'll do a full Boston qualifier, but I haven't decided if I'll do the Hamilton Marathon or New York Marathon. It is a mystery!

Effortpost #2

2011-11-04T18:48:00.003-04:00

I'm educating you! Yes, that's it.

"You can stare all day at the sky, but that won't bring her back
You say you're waiting on Fate, but I think Fate is now
Waiting on us"

I'm still trying to figure out why the Hamilton Marathon decided to put candy in their race kit. Whyyyy? You know I'm a fat kid in a swole body.

Effortpost

2011-11-03T20:49:00.003-04:00

"In your head, I am dead." This one's a blast from the past.

Better Than Love

2011-10-30T21:34:00.002-04:00

"Have you forgetten what she looks like
Or do you only see what you want to believe?
Does it feel better than love?"

Back to the Future

2011-10-30T12:18:00.000-04:00

I love this project by photographer Irina Werning, who uses childhood photos of her subjects and recreates them in painstaking detail, in the present, decades later:

[Editors note: Derp]

I think this would be a super project to try at home; unfortunately, my estranged mother has the majority of my childhood photos, so it's difficult to say what I looked like as a child, really, aside from the fact that I was constantly being mistaken for a body because she got tired of maintaining my hair at some point and cut it all off. [Cue Hair by Lady Gaga]

Gritchlew,

2011-10-29T14:29:00.002-04:00

Lyrics: Skrillex - First of the Year (Equinox)

La Bamboche Patisserie

2011-10-29T11:58:00.001-04:00

La Bamboche is generally considered to be one of the better places for macarons in Toronto, along with nearby Rahier.

Lavender, Mango-Matcha, Salted Caramel, Cassis, Chocolate, Mint Chocolate, Mystery (turned out to be some kind of vanilla shell with a berry filling).

They definitely did salted caramel better than Laduree in my opinion, and the mango-matcha green tea was outstanding; buttery and bright. I question their use of chocolate ganache fillings in the lavender and cassis, however; it's too strong and distinct a flavour, and completely overwhelmed the florals.

New York: Part III

2011-10-28T20:51:00.003-04:00

OK, I'd better finish this shit before I reach an advanced age and develop Alzheimer's and forget all about it. Therefore:

Part 1: Queens
Part 2: Manhattan
Part 3: Chelsea

The Upper East Side, in case you were wondering, is a complete and utter Coffee Desert, ostensibly so that the rich people who live there can savor the pleasure of knowing that their assistants must travel to the Lower East or even the West side to bring them their morning coffee. So I was very pleased when I emerged from the bowels of the Subway system to be immediately faced with a Starbuck's and a Dunkin' Donuts. Thank God for gentrification.

True fact: thigh-high pantyhose should be used for sex only and immediately burned afterward. The life goal of every pair of thigh-highs is to eventually become a pair of knee-highs. This goal becomes painstakingly clear as the thigh-highs busily work toward it as you walk down the streets of Chelsea. I ducked into a Duane Reade and bought a proper, non-idiotic pair, which I changed into while "trying on a sweater" at a nearby GAP.

As can probably be expected, Martha Stewart keeps a tidy line. The wait was probably about 45 minutes until you start to file in. They do tell you to show up early.

Click for enormous

Once inside, you sit inside a smart-looking room with the rest of the audience, sign your I Promise Never To Sue Martha forms, drink free water, and listen to comedian Joey Kola describe the various signals for audience reactions and generally get the crowd into a good mood.

Click for meatnormous

Shortly after, you're filed onto the set in groups. The set is really something; it's like someone's really nice house, split in half to reveal the inside, like a hinged dollhouse. Everywhere you looked there were tiny details:

The studio was overrun with personnel paying every bit as much attention to detail themselves: testing lighting and equipment, arranging props, touching up the set, and even the studio audience, where required. If a group of people happened to be sitting together that were wearing colours deemed too similar, a scarf of a contrasting colour was brought out for one of them to wear. There's some poor woman out there whom all of TV Land things willingly chose to wear an emerald green scarf with a magenta top.

Yonder is the Martha Stewart test kitchen.

These were my favourite parts of the set. Just beautiful.

There was, understandably, no photography during the show, and sadly, the taping ran behind, and Martha wasn't able to stick around to answer audience questions as she usually did.

Fun Martha Facts:

-That woman, at 70 years old, has the sexiest legs I've ever seen. So slim and toned.
-Martha hates the word "dump".

At one point, Martha stopped taping because of a scratching noise coming from one of the kitchen islands. "I think we have," she announced, in her usual grand way, "an animal." (It turned out to be a piece of tape that was crinkling as she was rolling out pastry).

I've read through some of the experiences of other bloggers who've seen Martha live, and a lot of them seemed to bitch about how 'cold' and 'stiff' Martha seemed. Um, have you heard of Martha Stewart, ever? That's how she is, get out of the studio. For some reason, or maybe because she's a woman, people seem to forget that this is the CEO of a multi-million dollar media empire, and one of the richest women in the world. You don't really get that to that place without being a bitch on wheels. I sometimes wonder if people would expect the same touchy-feely bullshit from, say, the CEO of Kleenex. Never change, Martha. Never change (like fuck she would).

There were giveaways. I wasn't really expecting it, and I sure as fuck wasn't expecting to bring home my nice new 5-quart Crock Pot on the N-train. Or through customs and security, for that matter, whom I expected to throw a fit, but didn't. I actually needed a big slow cooker, so I was bound and determined to get that thing home with me. I also genuinely needed a mandoline, which we received, and which Goons in the food threads assure me will offer me many happy hours of slicing myself up regardless of how dedicatedly I use the finger guard. We also received a t-shirt from Singer, who are celebrating their 160th anniversary, and finally, a copy of the Apple Lover's Cookbook by Amy Traverso. My only complaint about this book is that I didn't get a copy of it a little sooner after my yearly trip to the orchard. It is venerable indeed.

That was that! I left Chelsea after the show, picked up my luggage from the hotel, and it was off to La Guardia to glower stormily into space because the Five Guy's location inside the airport wasn't accessible from my terminal. Goddammit.

Bacon!

2011-10-25T18:34:00.002-04:00

The calipers have spoken tonight: 17% body fat. I win; hopefully a hamburger made out of ground bacon.

Beloved Grapple, Fortinos took you away from me. It was wrong. Now I have found you again.

These painted bikes are part of the Neon Bike Art Project and can be found in several places around Toronto. The artist encourages people to add their own touch; the bike above is just south of Yonge and Eglinton.

Nope.

2011-10-24T21:01:00.000-04:00

This might have been the best minute of my entire life.

Ways to Scar Your Children #938

2011-10-24T18:41:00.003-04:00

Someone in midtown took a lot of trouble with their Halloween decorations this year.

Sign reads: "Timmy's greatest fear was that at night his toys came alive and were evil!!!..... .....His mom said 'Oh Timmy honey, that's just nonsense"......Zzzzzzzzz"

More Butter Music

2011-10-23T21:15:00.003-04:00

I brought a copy of my beloved Don't Feed the Animals CD by DJ Girl Talk, and the trainers now play the shit out of it. They also play a lot of Skrillex as well, and now I'm hooked on it:

Initially it was a bit unsettling to have "SOMEBODY CALL 911 RIGHT NOW!!!11" yelled in your ear while you're doing pushups, but it grew on me eventually.

He also does a proper decent few Lady Gaga remixes:

I also discovered the English band Hurts recently while searching for another song, and I really dig their album Happiness:

The above song starts out a bit gay but I do like the chorus. It reminds me of the sort of song they would play during one of those lame movies where a guy friend creepily is in love with his best friend for eight hundred million years and then she suddenly "realises" how great he is and they hook up. God, I hate those movies.

I was just thinking tonight that I'm getting into a running rut and need to refresh my playlist... I love random music discovery nights.

New York: Part II

2011-10-22T10:28:00.006-04:00

Good news: I found some episodes of Ghost Adventures on YouTube last night, and fell asleep watching them in bed. It really gave that "fancy hotel room" experience.

Because you're all bitching for it, I bring you:

Part 1: Queens
Part 2: Manhattan
Part 3: Chelsea

From directly in front of the hotel, I caught the M60 to 126th St and 5th Avenue, in lower Harlem, just a few blocks above Central Park.

Some of the brownstones New York is famous for.

Central Park opened in 1857, and was designed by Frederick Law Olmsted and Calvert Vaux to mimic similar open spaces in Paris or London.

The Pond.

The park is huge - 2.5 miles long, and half a mile wide; it contains dozens of small gardens, fountains, and paths, baseball diamonds, a huge reservoir, a pond, and used to be home to the famous and exclusive Tavern on the Green until it closed in 2009.

Harlem Meer.

The Reservoir

Turtles sunning themselves on The Pond.

A horse wearing his (her?) lolhat; Cleopatra's Needle.

Directly to the right of Central Park run the famous 5th and Madison Avenues, which cut directly through the extremely affluent Upper East Side and are home to some of the best upscale shopping New York - and possibly the world - has to offer.

Louis Vuitton flagship store.

Tiffany & Co.

Next stop was Laduree:

Laduree is considered by most to be the last word in macarons. Based on an earlier Italian confection, the macaron as it's known now was invented by Laduree in the early 1800s.

Based in France, and with several other locations in other countries such as Dubai, Saudi Arabia, and Japan, Laduree recently opened a Manhattan location in August 2011.

I arrived about ten minutes prior to opening, and there was already a small lineup.

The place is also famous for its window displays.

Laduree has a wide range of flavours that cycle, I imagine, depending on the whim of the chef.

Their boxes, ornately decorated and tied with a signature ribbon, are also widely sought after.

The flavours I chose were violet, rose, citron, salted caramel, chocolate, and orange blossom. I'm a big fan of florals.

Next up in the neighborhood: Dylan's Candy Bar.

Dylan is the daughter of fashion designer Ralph Lauren. Despite being a waif, she apparently insisted on pretending that she really enjoys candy. The effect is believable. I almost had a panic attack when I walked through the door. The actual first though I had once inside was "Fuck my life".

The stairs were made out of candy embedded in resin.

Two floors of these shenanigans. It's almost too much for someone who works out 6-7 days a week to bear.

I managed. I chose three of Dylan's signature candy bars in Smores, Malted Milk, and Red Velvet. I really wish I'd bought more.

Momofuku Milk Bar is tiny. It's a nondescript little unit with absolutely no signage to identify one of New York's most famous restaurants whatsoever, aside from the below:

In spite of their diminutive size, the Milk Bar carried all of the expected goods, such as their famous cookies and pies, including the obnoxiously labour-intensive Crack Pie that people are always bugging me to make.

I bought some cookies and left. Despite what sounds like the most obese tour of New York ever, it was the first thing I'd eaten all day.

Bravo Pizza. I wasn't hungry, but I really regret not ramming some in regardless. We ate at Bravo last time I was in New York.

The New Balance store and factory, where all New Balance shoes are made.

The Empire State Building is perhaps not as impressive from directly below.

This church (the name escapes me) had beautiful strips of ribbon tied all along the fence around it. A key nearby identified the yellow ribbons as representing individual prayers for American soldiers, the blue as being for Iraqi innocents, and the green for peace in general. I'm thinking they need to step up the blue and green.

During the summer, Rockerfeller Center's famous skating rink is a simple fountain. As an aside, I was really underwhelmed by the MoMa Store located at Rockerfeller Center - especially given some of the amazing things in their online store.

I adore Marimekko. However, I also adore not spending like $50 on a tea towel, so I did not stop in.

The Flatiron Building is a queer little building. It was finished in 1902; locals, distrustful of its unusual shape, placed bets on how far debris would spread when it fell.

Toronto has its own flatiron-style building, the Gooderham Building, completed in 1892.

This is a peek inside Gramercy Park; I can't show you any photos of the inside of the park, as it's privately owned, and only those residing in the immediate, extremely affluent area may access the park, by way of a special key they are given. Let's hope they don't lose them - there's a $1,000 replacement fee, and the locks are changed annually.

St. Mark's Church.

This is, arguably, the most important tomb in all of New York. Peter (Petrus) Stuyvesant was the Director-General - similar to a Mayor - of New Amsterdam before it was ceded to the English and renamed New York in 1647. Fun facts: Stuyvesant had a wooden leg, and, unrelatedly, wasn't well liked by the citizens of New Amsterdam. He fully planned on resisting the English when they arrived to seize New Amsterdam, but the citizens let him know very clearly that they had no intentions of resisting the English, knowing the town would end up ruined in the process. With no one to back him, Stuyvesant ceded without a fight.

During his administration, Stuyvesant directed projects including building the fortified wall that later gave its name to Wall Street, and the establishment of Broadway.

I have no goddamn clue what these hipsters are doing.

St. Patrick's Cathedral.

A side street and McDonald's in Chinatown.

The entrace to Manhattan Bridge; and an ominous message.

I stumbled on Fishs Eddy completely by chance.

It is amazing. They had the most offbeat and affordable kitchenware imaginable. And they had Weck jars!

I don't care how strangely the security official at the airport looked at me. Weck! Jars!

The street names and scene above may not look familiar, but for those of you who've seen Gangs of New York, read the book it was based on, or know anything about the Five Points, well... this is what remains. A small patch of green called Columbus park where children busily swarmed, and the expected hustle and bustle of New York. How many of them stop to think, or are even aware, of the amazing places and characters that came out of this section of the city? Tammany Hall, William "Bill the Butcher" Poole (yes - he was real!), Boss Tweed, the Bowery Boys, the Dead Rabbits...

I forget if this was City Hall, or the Supreme Court building. It is a building of some importance!

Roughly five hours after starting out in lower Harlem, I reached the Brooklyn Bridge. The bridge has an elevated pedestrian surface, making it very popular for runners, tourists, or people looking for a view:

The Manhattan Bridge on one side...

...and Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty on the other.

Brooklyn is one of New York's most quickly up-and-coming boroughs, becoming gentrified as quickly as hipsters can snap up property. However, the sun was starting to set, and I'm not that knowledgeable about the "good" and "bad" areas (if any) of Brooklyn. As a result, I only had a chance to snap a few quick photos of Green-Wood Cemetery before heading back to the hotel.

Green-Wood has fascinated me since seeing the scene above in Gangs of New York. Some of New York's best, brightest, and most famous historical figures are laid to rest there, including Bill the Butcher, Boss Tweed, Currier and Ives, and several Roosevelts. It is said that "it is the ambition of the New Yorker to live upon the Fifth Avenue, to take his airings in the Park, and to sleep with his fathers in Green-Wood."

I, however, had no such lofty sleeping partners; just a couple of Bros looking for ghosts. In a few hours, it was off to see Chelsea and Martha Stewart herself.

New York: Part I

2011-10-22T10:00:00.002-04:00

It's been almost an entire week, I know, but between work, workouts, something vaguely resembling a social life, and processing over 300 photos, I've finally managed to scrape together the time to write an entry about my trip to New York.

I'm going to split this into three parts, for two main reasons: (1) It's really too much for a single entry; and (2) to be a bitch. So, without further ado:

My Trip to New York

Part 1: Queens
Part 2: Manhattan
Part 3: Chelsea

Of course, one doesn't just simply fucking wake up in Queens, and if they did, it would probably be the worst day of their life. As such, I departed Toronto's Pearson Airport mid-afternoon for arrival just around 5pm at LaGuardia Airport.

I look concerned here, because for all intents and purposes, I've never flown. I mean, I have flown, but I was too young to remember a fuck about it. Also, my leggings no longer seem to fit properly, which would cause any reasonable person concern.

Going through customs and security was a joke compared to the airline's recommended arrival of three hours in advance, so I spent some time taking photos that probably led airport security to believe I was Planning Something.

Really, I planned to have lunch at T.G.I. Friday's while I waited for my boarding call, and find myself at the bottom of a long island iced tea or two. A few drinks later, I was officially drunk enough to be able to hide it. Flying is fun!

All was cool. We got on our tiny plane; the Fasten Seatbelts light dinged incessantly. The flight attendants performed some sort of interpretive dance at the front of the cabin.

Finally, the plane started to taxi down the runway. "Oh, this is cute," I thought to myself. "It's just like being on a train. Soon, the plane will magically lift into the air, and--"

WARP SPEED, MR. SULU

Holy fucking fuck. The plane is not lifting gently into the air like a soft and gleaming bubble. It is not gliding, fancy-free, into a magical world of happy sunshine. It is rocketing at fifty-five hundred thousand kilometres per hour into the sky at what feels like a ninety degree angle. It is enveloped in a mist of pure white through which I (and, ostensibly, ThisIsYourCaptainSpeaking) cannot see a good goddamn through. The sound is deafening. I'm pressed into the seat; my nails are pressed into the armrests. I'm sure there's still a mark.

I shut the window shutter. I shut that bitch with a firm and decisive clap.

Two or three times, I did lift it to quickly take a photo. Oh how I suffer for my art.

As we drew closer to our destination, however, it grew too tempting not to at least see. Tentatively (and bored of the Sky Mall catalogue), I lifted the shutter. I left it open a little longer each time.

The scene above was too much to bear missing. As we flew over New Jersey and toward the island of Manhattan, once we were below cloud level, rays of sunshine filtered onto the world below.

Regardless, I got the fuck off the plane.

The hotel I was staying at was just outside of LaGuardia in what is technically East Elmhurst, New York, but for all intents and purposes, is Queens. It seemed like a decent enough area. My hotel room was very nice:

Once I got everything settled, I went out. Queen's has several huge malls, a Target, and lots of little food places.

I came away with a nice pair of Steve Madden boots and some bottles of Archer Farms Pumpkin Spice Latte from Target. There are so many more beverage choices in the US. It's bullshit. They still have Snapple Diet Peach Iced Tea, which they took away from us. They even have a light version of those Starbuck's bottled Frappucino things. What the fuck.

Better yet:

Fucking right, I'm finally able to try White Castle! I forgot that it's New York law that calories be displayed on all menu boards, so it was easy to see that the one little slider I ordered was 140 calories. I wasn't overly hungry.

That was Queen's. Given the short amount of time I had in New York as a whole, I wasn't really able to do as much exploring in Queen's as I might have liked. There's a large Mexican population, and as such, there was a huge section of shops that were purely Mexican. They probably would have been awesome to look around in, especially with Dia de Los Muertos so close.

I went back to the hotel room, went for a run in the exercise room, and watched late-night episodes of Ghost Adventures (watching bros hunt ghosts on hotel room television is kind of a tradition of mine). The next day, I was headed to Manhattan to hang out with some real bros.

To be continued...

New York: Part I

2011-10-21T18:02:00.000-04:00

New York: Part I

2011-10-21T18:01:00.001-04:00

New York: Part I

2011-10-21T18:00:00.000-04:00

Touchdown

2011-10-17T22:48:00.002-04:00

Touched down safely this evening and arrived home a little under an hour ago. Katie greeted me with a slice of home made chicken pot pie that she made herself - sorely tempting at this point, but I'm tired and it's another big day in another city tomorrow - back to work. It'll make a good dinner for tomorrow night.

Stay tuned to find out why flying is terrifying, and what it's like to take a crockpot on the N train.

This Blog Is Now Twitter

2011-10-15T13:02:00.001-04:00

Security was a snap. Now to get crunk at the airport bar.

Bartender: That one's gonna be a little strong, sorry.
Me: As long as I can still get on the plane.
Bartender: Well, there's a wheelchair around here somewhere.

Adventure!

2011-10-15T09:34:00.002-04:00

All ready to go. I'm not really excited about the prospect of flying, since the only thing I can remember about the last time I flew is.... nothing. But I kind of want to try it, you know?

I'll be reading The Working Poor: Invisible in America on the plane. Think that'll get me punched?

I also, without really thinking about it, chose my Roots sweatshirt to wear on the plane. So I suppose I'll look like a proper tourist.

Someone grab my boob... ADVENTURE!

My Packing Style

2011-10-14T21:34:00.002-04:00

...would horrify Katie. It probably is right now.

Up until right before I leave, my packing M.O. consists of what can only be known as The Pile. The Pile, as you can see, consists of the essentials: various bottles and tins of makeup, random pieces of clothing, and countless pieces of paper with hastily-scribbled shorthand messages like "m60 mrningside hrrrr" and "templ of zuul" scribbled on them.

A little mood music courtesy of New Order and Ana Matronic:

I leave tomorrow.

It's Fall

2011-10-13T18:28:00.001-04:00

Leisurely little 40k ride through the country north of Dundas Street this past long weekend.

It's been a fucked up week so far:

1. Got asked on a date by someone I used to date with.
2. Got asked to join a threesome with someone I used to work with, and his girlfriend. Not the same person as (1). Obviously.

All this, while trying to pull together a trip in four days, and coordinate a huge software update at work. I'm so tired. I'm going to end up falling asleep on the Metro and wake up somewhere in the Bronx or something.

And no, I didn't accept.

...And The City

2011-10-11T08:00:00.002-04:00

I have a hard time stepping out of the box sometimes. This typically includes large purchases, or doing things I normally wouldn't. Usually I have to be pressed into making the decision, as with a friend's forceful cry of "GET THE TITS!!" as I was debating my surgery back in March. I've never regretted following that advice.

I was recently invited to cover a taping of the Martha Stewart Show in New York City. On the tail-end of a bout of illness that cost me a few days of work, I was really debating taking another day off, and dropping the money for the trip. "Just do it," my podmate remarked drily. "What are you going to remember in ten years, sitting here at work?"

She's also the one who advised me to be "less picky" with my dating strategies, so I tend to take certain pieces of her advice with an enormous grain of salt,, but I think in this case, she could be right.

As a result, next weekend I'll be flying for the first time in over twenty years. I don't remember what flying is like, and I don't reckon I'll like it (I've already had my first plane-crash dream). But I suppose an hour-long flight is good practice if I expect to rock up to any 12-hour transatlantic flights to the UK in the next little while. It should at least give me a heads up as to whether I should be holding my doctor up for a prescription for Valium the next time around.

Regardless, I'm not really sure what to expect from flying. Expectedly, the airline carrier's website is pretty comprehensive, but it only deals with the practical stuff, like check-in and baggage size, instead of the real, nitty-gritty stuff you need to know, such as:

1. What if the plane crashes? Is choosing what you wear on your flight potentially the same thing as choosing what to wear when you're buried? I was thinking of wearing my mushroom shirt. Do I really want to die in a shirt with mushrooms on it?

2. How bad is turbulence, really? At what point should I start to worry? And at what point should I begin attacking my fellow passengers to ensure that I die in battle and be taken by Odin to the glorious halls of Valhalla after my death?

3. Will airport security have one of those weird blowy-machines?

4. Will the blowy-machine be able to tell my tits are fake?

5. Can I use my iPod or BlackBerry on the flight, or will it cause the airplane to drop out of the sky like a rock?

These are the things I'm going to be fussing about throughout the next week.

Vintage Tin Organizer

2011-10-10T00:14:00.000-04:00

I mentioned collecting vintage tins a while back for a project. I finally got around to it during a couple of sick days a few weeks ago, because nothing makes a more winning pair: a fever and a power drill.

This Vintage Tin Organizer was featured in Better Homes and Gardens a while ago. I don't know what the hell I was doing reading BH&G, since my home is already better than yours, and I don't have a garden. I was probably waiting for a prescription to be filled or something.

I found that I really didn't need half the materials called for in the original instructions. Let's do this shit.

1. Collect three tins, each smaller than the next. Check thrift stores, reuse centres, and flea markets. Stay away from bona-fide antique stores, unless you're already in the habit of drilling into things that cost you $20 (if you regularly visit prostitutes, this project might be for you).

2. Purchase a threaded rod; anywhere from 8" - 12" in length is ideal for this project. I found mine in the nuts and bolts aisle of Canadian Tire, already pre-cut to 8" in length. The width of the rod is irrelevant, as long as you've got a drill bit big enough to drill a hole to accommodate it, and can find nuts to fit it. Buy 6 nuts of this size.

This is where my method starts to differ from that of the instructions. The instructions suggest that you use one of the tin's lids as a base, and cut plywood to fit inside it as a base. That's cute, but I had to scrap my plans for an apartment woodshop since I decided to use that bedroom as a bedroom. Instead, I decided to use the largest tin as the base itself. Plus, you'll find that a lot of vintage tins being sold have lost their lids somewhere along the way. Your mileage may vary. If you want to chop up wood, go ahead.

3. Measure and mark the centre point on the bottom of each tin.

4. Drill a hole in each tin at the centre point. Use a drill bit that will fit the threaded rod as snugly as possible, while still allowing it to pass through. Mine was the perfect size to allow the tins to be "screwed" onto the rod.

5. Thread a nut onto the very end of the rod, as far down as it will go while still staying on the rod securely. Place the largest tin on the rod, with the nut underneath. Check to make sure your tin will sit flat without wobbling. It would probably be best to choose a base tin that has a slightly recessed bottom, so that there is room for the nut to sit on the underside.

Thread a second bolt onto the rod and secure it on the inside of the tin. It should look like this, where "O" is a nut, and "-" is the base of the tin:

O
-
O

6. Continue adding the next two tins in the same manner, adding a nut first, then the tin, then an additional nut to secure. You might have to screw around with the levels of the tins to keep things even.

7. Finis. The original instructions suggest, as a final touch, buying copper tubing and cutting it to fit over the threaded rod between the tins. I don't personally know any crackheads who hang out in abandoned houses, and I'm sure as hell not going to pay for copper tubing (or figure out how the hell to cut it), so I skipped this step.

Rockton World's Fair

2011-10-09T11:15:00.001-04:00

Warning: Chicken-heavy post ahead

The Rockton World's Fair, now in its 159th year, is a huge fair boasting agricultural exhibits in addition to the usual midway and food stands. One of my main reasons for wanting to go?

POULTRY, PIGEON AND RABBIT (meh) SHOW
My love for chickens is no secret. If I had a backyard, I'd keep pet hens that would eat harmful grubs and shit out eggs for me.

All of the chickens were labelled with breed and type; unfortunately, I can only really recall the ones I was already familiar with. Sadly, I didn't see my favourite type of chicken, a buff frizzle cochin (foreground). Also, the labels didn't have names on them. Why wouldn't you name your show chickens?? Chickens are open to all sorts of amusing possible names, such as Nugget, Megatron, or Gregory Peck.

This chicken was the smartest chicken. He stuck his skinny neck through the bars, and had the best view in the house.

There were small cups of seed you could use to feed the chickens. You were probably expected to just dump it through the bars or something, but I preferred a more hands-on approach:

The following chickens are all variants of the Polish variety. Fun (though maybe not so much for the chicken) fact: some varieties of Polish, due to overbreeding in order to breed a chicken with an optimal crest, actually have holes in the tops of their skulls beneath the feather crest.

Beautiful striped feathers on the fellow on the upper-right. I want to say he's an Americauna, but I'm not 100% sure.

Every girl's dream - servicing two cocks at once.

Fed this next big fucker. He was HUGE.

There were also a few dozen ducks. Storybook ducks with chubby cheeks:

Poufy ducks:

And disapproving ducks that see what you did there.

There were also show pigeons. Working in Toronto, I see pigeons every day of my life, and I like them. Cream pigeons, white pigeons, black speckled pigeons, brown pigeons, and the typical grey with the pearlescent green neck: I like pigeons. I don't know what the fuck people have against them. Just look at these pudgy little faces:

Pigeons want to be your friend. Don't shout at them on the street.

A sheep-shearing demonstration:

A horse with, quite literally, a fancy pony tail:

Curly cows, and rams.

There were exhibits where schoolchildren were judged on their produce:

Some of the exhibits didn't place with ribbons, but had little stickers on them that said "Thanks For Exhibiting!" Hahahaha. Agricultural ice burn. See if you can find a date for the barn dance now.

...and area farmers were invited to show off the kind of harvest Ontario can provide.

There were stands selling all sorts of squash and pumpkins for your autumn decorating needs.

Panzeroli for all of your lunchtime needs:

Trying to eat ice cream in the least blowjob-inspired manner possible (it's not working):

Rockton Fair was the best, even if I did almost get shanked by my friends for spending sixteen hours in the poultry exhibit.

I'm sure I'll be "back" (HURR) again next year.

Butter Music

2011-10-05T20:28:00.005-04:00

In the morning, I like to check the weather and see what kind of user photos people have uploaded, but this one made me sad. User "Ricky" is probably pretty happy with this very good shot... but this fellow is a zebra finch, and he is meant as a pet, not as a wild bird. He has clearly either escaped his fleshy captors, or some douchebag set him "free". We have several varieties of finch native to the area, so hopefully he'll make out all right...

The October issue of Martha Stewart Living has an awesome spot on the Mütter Museum, a collection of morbid antique medical oddities hosted by The College of Physicians of Philadelphia. I badly want to go; unfortunately it seems that there's really no other excuse to see Philadelphia aside from a broke-ass bell.

I'd offer you a link to the article, but it seems like they didn't reproduce it in the online version; the search term "mutter museum" instead elicited the question, "We're sorry, we did not find any search results for mutter museum. Did you mean butter music?" Yes.

True Love Waits

2011-10-02T22:21:00.002-04:00

No more camping again for almost a whole year... :(

I Think I'd Like Dentures

2011-09-29T13:04:00.004-04:00

This is a really great postcard Katie sent me from London. A reproduction from the war, obviously.

One of the questions that has always plagued me was, How do scientists know what kind of noises that dinosaurs made? There is no scientific record of sound; even modern-day lizards or birds, some of the closest related ancestors of the dinosaur, make no sound similar that what you hear in the dino-documentaries.

The answer: People with a toothache. The shrill cry of the pterodactyl, reproduced exactly into the bowels of my pillow. The enraged, screechy roar of the velociraptor, disturbing the peaceful slumber of my neighbors.

I Have Entered A World Of Pain. I pray for death. I contemplate the scene in Castaway where Tom Hanks places a screwdriver at the side of his face and gives it a good whack. I make dinosaur noises.

Better yet, exactly no one will offer you anything for the pain. Not the hospital; not your doctor. I suspect that narcotics addicts are the only ones actually getting narcotics nowadays, as they're the only ones cunning enough to get them.

I still have my wisdom teeth, which move from time to time, so initially, I gave the pain the benefit of the doubt.

I haven't slept in days.

I have an appointment with the dentist this afternoon. Thank God.

She's Got Moxie(cillin)

2011-09-28T19:05:00.001-04:00

Normally I'd be leaving for a run right now, but the doctor says that if I get any worse, I have to go to the hospital to get on an IV drip. Stupid antibiotics, work FASTER!

I'll Salt Whatever I Want

2011-09-26T20:28:00.000-04:00

Birthday cookies for a friend, using this recipe, the best one I've found yet (though I haven't tried the New York Times recipe yet, which is supposed to be the penultimate).

The Highlander once used the recipe posted to make, for Valentine's Day, a large, heart-shaped cookie, on which he had iced the words "FEELINGS AND THINGS". We had our own brand of romance.

Since it is such a good recipe, it was gone in about three days. I had my own brand of moderation.

These ones are for Greg, so they are safe.

Meantime, yeurgh, I am so ill. If not for an important meeting at work tomorrow that I need to make it in to, I'd probably opt to lapse into a coma and lay undiscovered for weeks. Instead, I'll probably do so on the train and miss my stop, ending up in Oshawa, which is much worse.

Ready For This Jelly

2011-09-24T15:58:00.002-04:00

I've made a number of things over the years with the apples I've picked: pies, sauce, apple butter... I wanted to do something different this time, so I decided to try David Lebovitz's recipe for apple jelly, below.

I halved the recipe, being that I don't live on some enormous commune with an insatiable need for preserves. I also didn't have any cognac on hand, and I sure as hell wasn't going to buy some for a couple of teaspoon's worth, so instead I added about a tablespoon of cinnamon at step 5. In all honesty, I think it gives a flavour that's probably closer to what people are expecting with an apple product.

David Lebovitz's Apple Jelly

8 pounds apples
10 cups water
6 cups sugar
1/4 cup fresh lemon juice
2 teaspoon Calvados, brandy, or Cognac

1. Rinse the apples and cut them coarsely into chunks, then put them and the cores and seeds, into a very large stockpot.

2. Add the water, cover, and bring to a boil. When bubbling, reduce the heat a bit, leave the lid askew, and cook for 20 to 30 minutes, until the apples are tender and cooked through.

3. Line a mesh colander with a piece of muslin cloth or a few folds of cheesecloth (or use a jelly bag and stand) and set it over a deep bowl, then ladle the apples and the liquid into the colanders. (I used two lined colanders since it was quite a bit of apples.)

4. Let stand overnight (or at least three hours), and no matter how tempting, do not press down at any time on the apples to extract more juice or the jelly will get cloudy.

5. The next day, measure out the juice. (See Note below about the apples.) You should have 8 cups (2l). Pour it into a stockpot fitted with a candy thermometer, add the sugar and lemon juice, and bring to a boil. During cooking, if any white scum rises to the surface, skim it off.

6. Cook until the temperature reaches 220ºF (104ºC). At that point, turn off the heat and begin testing the jelly on a chilled plate in the freezer, using the method mentioned in the headnote. When it wrinkles and holds its shape, it’s done. If not, continue to cook and re-test it at intervals. This batch set at 230ºF (110ºC).

7. Remove from heat, stir in the liquor, and ladle into clean jars, then cap tightly.

What I'm Reading Now

2011-09-22T18:25:00.012-04:00

New York: The Novel by Edward Rutherfurd

After six months of reading purely non-fiction on the train, I'm finding myself kind of exhausted from it. I saw this book while browsing the Indigo on my lunch hour and found it at the library. I'm so glad I did. Rutherfurd takes the history of New York - beginning with its start as a Dutch settlement in the 1600s - and weaves a rich tapestry to the present day as the characters, a mixture of real and fiction, navigate some of the most notable historical events in this city's lifetime. As far as fiction goes, I guess this might technically be cheating; however, Rutherfurd has about eight hundred books long similar lines, including ones that feature London, Russia, and Ireland, and I expect I'll read a bunch of them. Except the Russian one, because Russia is boring and God knows I got my fill of that during my Ayn Rand period.

In honor of the book, I have downloaded New York: A Documentary Film. This book is also the first fiction work I've come across that violates the Non-Fiction Book Title: Always Has a Colon rule.

The Year of the Flood by Margaret Atwood

I'm so glad Margaret Atwood - who is, curiously, an increasingly prominent activist figure in Toronto, where I work - is concentrating on dystopian storylines these days, as I feel that's what she does best. Between the Handmaid's Tale and Oryx and Crake, she's starting to build up an impressive canon of the stuff.

The Shack by William Paul Young

I'm reading this mainly because I've heard of it. I read Twilight for the same reasons and nothing bad seemed to happen, so I figured, what the hell. This novel was originally self-published, and it shows. Some parts of the storyline are indeed big enough to house an actual shack. As part of the premise, the main character's daughter is abducted and murdered by a serial child killer nicknamed, rather adorably, "The Little Ladykiller". How do they find this out? The killer leaves his signature ladybug lapel pin at the scene of the abduction. It gets better - the killer, who is apparently Martha Stewart, painstakingly paints an extra dot onto the pins he leaves at each crime, one dot to signify each victim. How do we know this? Because the attending police officer, within about an hour of responding, phones the FBI from the scene, who then diagnose the pin, sight unseen. The officer then immediately relays this information to the hysterical father.

However pat this set of circumstances, it sets the background for what is essentially an in-person meeting between the main character and God, who is represented in the book by a veritable racial rainbow of individuals: Jesus, a middle-eastern man (no surprises there); the Holy Spirit, a tiny Asian woman with a debilitating penchant for glitter; and God "itself", represented by, and I quote, "a large African-American woman", who at one point gamely prepares collard greens for everyone, warning them not too each too much lest they be stuck with "a case of the trots".

Now, I'm not really sure how I feel about God at this point in time, but I think I'd be pleased as fuck if one existed and was, in fact, a large African-American woman, racially-stereotyped food preparations notwithstanding. And I suppose that's what made this book compelling for so many people, launching it from a self-publish job to a New York Times bestseller. Should be interesting.

The Working Poor: Invisible in America by David K. Shipler

I've always found books about the poor and what to do with them, other than burning them for fuel, interesting (I'm only kidding; that would be dreadfully inefficient when we can simply throw them in the mines).

The Bruce Beckons by W. Sherwood Fox

I'm a little surprised that there are books about this area (though, one week tomorrow and I'll be back up there again!), although from what I understand, Whiskey Harbour is so named because it used to be a place for bootleggers to hide their stash. Of course, this might be a big fat made-up lie; I guess I'll find out.

And of course, I'm only kidding about low-income individuals; I wish everyone were as fortunate as I am. Only they're not allowed to get married first, it's my turn, goddammit.

Down On The Farm

2011-09-21T18:08:00.000-04:00

As usual, when Katie came back from Europe, she came with approximately six tonnes of stuff for everyone she knows. Katie is generous to a fault. And I really like things.

One of the most ridiculous things I asked for from London was Harrods Glitterati Rose Petal Luxury Jelly with Edible Glitter. Again: that's luxury jelly. With glitter in it. Because as far as rich people are concerned, if it isn't shiny, it can get fucked. I'm waiting for some gilded scones or something to put it on, although in all likelihood it will probably end up on either a rice cake or a graham cracker, like 95% of everything else I eat seems to.

Also pictured: replica cookery books and a ration booklet from the war, and a number of cock-related items from Portugal. They fucking love black cock in Portugal like you wouldn't believe. In fact, I'd say this is the most cock I've had in my house for almost a year.

I also have a small statuette of Minerva's owl, so I can absorb its powers.

There's a store called Antique Avenue that we are fond of which is comprised of a shocking number of items acquired, as we are told, entirely by way of the estate sale of someone who must have been a fantastic hoarder.

I'm not sure what kind of person exactly saves old tins and cans, but being that I'm apparently the kind of person who is willing to buy them, I probably shouldn't have much to say on the subject.

Anyway, the tomato can turned out to be a bit of local history, as it was canned at the Hyslop & Sons Cannery, in what was then the Freeman area of Burlington, and is now, basically, the plaza where Kingdom/NRG used to be.

But it wasn't all fun and games when she got back. It was time to do some heavy lifting:

For the last few years, the ex and I went apple picking, and I'm not damn well going to stop now.

Chudleigh's Apple Farm is really well known in the area, and it's a very pleasant half-hour drive through the country and the fall colours.

I go primarily for the Macs, I'm not going to lie. But Macs are best for eating out of hand, and there were several other varieties more suitable for baking available also, like Courtland and Royal Gala. There was even a new variety of tiny apple, called the Kerr:

Picture these as diminutive caramel apples, as Martha Stewart has done here, with Lady apples. These would be fantastic as favours for a fall-themed wedding, along with apple pie and home made cider. THANKS FOR RUINING ALL OF MY DREAMS.

A trip to Chudleigh's wouldn't be traditional without a visit to the petting zoo set disturbingly near the orchard:

That is not my hand halfway up the cow. Anyhow, I remain disappointed that you cannot pet any of the fowl, which is plainly false advertisement. I did, however, content myself with making loud rooster sounds for the remainder of the trip, which could somewhat explain the high turnover I experience with people who accompany me to the apple farm.

The apples are destined for pie, sauce, and if I can muster the enthusiasm, apple butter.

Drunk-Text Distraction Squares

2011-09-19T21:24:00.001-04:00

Katie and I are both dedicated fans of salted caramel. More specifically, I'm a fan of anything that's salted, in general. I abide by a theory that there are few things that can't be further improved with a little salt. Or a lot of salt. French fries should sparkle with the stuff. Soup should be vaguely grainy with it.

When I saw my doctor last, he took my blood pressure and declared, "Your blood pressure's a little low. You should eat more salt." Okay.

I stumbled onto this recipe using Foodgawker and was intrigued, but wanted to make a few changes. Coconut is great and all, but it seemed like an odd choice for the base. And I'm not sure how she managed to jam so much butter into the recipe without the final result ending up underwater. Therefore, I made some changes. Adventure!

After a few changes, the results were pleasing enough even to distract me from ill-advised drunk texting activities after a few too many whisky sours. The proof is in the pudding, people.

Drunk-Text Distraction Squares

For the base:
1/2 c butter, melted
1 c flour
1/2 c brown sugar
1/2 c shortbread cookies, processed into a fine crumb
Pinch salt

For the filling:
1 can sweetened condensed milk
1/3 c corn syrup
2 tbsp butter
Fleur de sel, to taste

Preheat the oven to 325F. Line the bottom of a 9" square baking pan with parchment paper, and grease bottom and sides lightly.

Blend the dry filling ingredients well and add melted butter; combine with a fork until mixture resembles coarse crumbs. Press firmly into the bottom of the pan and bake for 10 minutes.

While the base is baking, combine sweetened condensed milk, corn syrup, and butter in a saucepan. Stirring constantly, cook over medium-high heat without allowing the mixture to boil until the butter is melted and incorporated, and the mixture starts to take on a light amber colour, about ten minutes. Pour over baked base and return to the oven for 35 minutes. If the top of the bar starts to darken too much, loosely cover with aluminum foil.

As soon as it is removed from the oven, sprinkle fleur de sel over the top. Allow to cool, and then chill in the refrigerator, until it is chilled and things. Cut into squares, bars, hearts, moons, or swastikas, for all I care.

THEN EAT IT

I make no claims to responsibility for the state of your blood pressure after eating these things.

Change Your Links, Bitches

2011-09-18T16:41:00.003-04:00

As you can see, this den of inequity has undergone a complete overhaul, just for you. And after a solid week of coding, swearing, and 'Nam-like flashbacks to my days as a web developer, it's finally ready. What did you do on a hungover Sunday afternoon, hmm?

As you can see, some of my most (inexplicably) popular posts are easily referenced (so that the crowd coming from over at Craftgawker can find them without being scarred and alarmed), and you can look through past projects by browsing the pages set up in the navigation bar. My e-penis is huge right now.

As part of the change, I promise more projects, more photos, and even more whining and complaining. Because ain't that what it's all about?

Finally, over the next day or so, sheneedstherapy.blogspot.com will start redirecting to its new home at sheneedstherapy.com, so update your links! There may be a few hiccups as the transition happens. Google will continue to redirect from the old address for an unspecified period of time, likely until it gets distracted by something else.

Live the change! Or something.

2011-09-18T13:40:00.003-04:00

I would like to take this opportunity to thank the Lord for Whisky Sours, and the designers of BlackBerry for making it nigh impossible to drunk-text people who are not already in your BlackBerry contact list, to the point where you give up trying and instead eat a large caramel square. Amen.

2011-09-17T10:50:00.003-04:00

Correction for yesterday's post: being ranked #3 in Google search for "auto erotic fixation" is a series of unfortunate events. My vibrator dying? That is a punishment sent by God.

With Lasers And Everything

2011-09-16T20:04:00.003-04:00

So, why am I posting on a Friday night? Well, despite Rebecca Black's insistence that it's imperative I get down on a night such as tonight, it's about T-minus one hour until this week's long run. I even turned down a social engagement to accommodate it. Does that make me strange?

Last week I pulled roughly 18k, and I felt like shit. You feel all angles and edges coming over that finish line, and I was relatively certain blood was going to pour out of my shoes.

I've eaten my latest ritual power food - PC Moroccan-Spiced Couscous mixed with chick peas - and despite the greatest of reservations, I'm going to try out some Apple Cinnamon Carb BOOM! with every expectation that it will taste like it came from the bowels of Satan himself. Then I'll get out there and burn my 1,000 calories. I am sure whatever I eat tomorrow at Cafe Limoncello will make up for it.

With that said, it might be time for another...

It Came From StatCounter

That's right, folks. For as long as people keep flowing to my blog on completely unrelated Google tangents, you will continue to be subjected to such instant classics as...

10. old sneakers in garbage
Look. I do not want to be the poster girl for this. Someone sells you a mismatched pair of shoes, and suddenly dumpster-divers across the world are hanging your picture on the wall like a Western Kim Il-Sung. I CAN'T BE THAT PERSON FOR YOU.

9. goat with mermaid tail
Why? Did something else wash up on the beaches of New Jersey?

8. rare lemon jolly rancher
Ahh, yes, the rare lemon Jolly Rancher, sought after by collectors all over the world. I saw it once - briefly - back in 1956. We had a particularly hot spring that year, and I was sweating in a most unseemly manner underneath my new, wool felt fedora.

My work had taken me to some strange places, but that little town on the east coast was the strangest yet. Among the tiny population, Professor Babbage stuck out like a sore thumb, and I was able to spot him nearly right away, in the corner of the diner where we'd agreed to meet.

We hurried through the usual introductions and pleasantries. "I've got something to show you," he said excitedly. His voice was like the rasp of two tree trunks rubbing together in the wind, competing for space. Nevertheless, I leaned in intently. This was the reason they had sent me here. This was what I'd come for.

He reached into his dusty corduroy jacket and withdraw a small packet, encased in butcher's paper and wrapped with twine. With trembling hands, he carefully IT'S A GODDAMN JOLLY RANCHER WHO CARES.

7. dramatic hawk
Less popular search terms: "Casual Hawk." "Indifferent Hawk." Or the ever-unpopular "Hawk That Turns Around In A Leisurely Manner, Giving You No Heed Whatsoever."

6. cuckoo clock dear
You too, grandfather clock honey.

5. auto erotic fixation
I am the #3 ranked search result for this term. It is a punishment sent from God.

4. mushroom id looks like a boob
I'm sure this search brought results from mycology journals of only the highest professional regard. No scientific tome on fungi worth its salt would be complete without a chapter on mushrooms that "look like a boob", "look like a wang", or, for the finer publications, "gave me the running shits".

3. eat shit and die
I'm not sure how this would end someone up here, but I must say that I'm pleasantly surprised.

2. underwatered cactus
Is this a personal situation you're looking to remedy, or do you draw some sort of twisted satisfaction from photos of semi-turgid succulents? I do, but that's probably just because I haven't seen any action in a while.

1. ROOSTROYER

2011-09-12T18:05:00.001-04:00