Monday, January 31, 2011
I need to meet this mad genius
(Mom, if you're reading this: calm down, I'm not getting a cat. The sea monkeys are all I need. I just think this video is freaking awesome.)
Sunday, January 30, 2011
What my phone sees
This is the worst cookie I've ever had. It tasted like earwax and dishonesty.
Beer-tasting tower. Conclusion: the Polish beer was not so good.
Debbie Travis' terrifying countenance will follow you all over Canadian Tire when you're just trying to buy a hammer.
My morning commute-corner. Morning. When is summer again?
Despite the whining above, I actually really enjoy my twilight bus gig. And sometimes I'm surprised by really beautiful scenery like this.
Hoar frost: scandalous name, otherworldly appearance.
Winnipeg has its own genus of harmoniums. They cluster on the walls of bus shelters and feed off the vibrations from strangers' conversations. When someone smokes a cigarette inside the shelter, they shrivel up and die.Of Muppets and Mortality
Eh, whatever, a picture a day didn't happen, at all. Haha... moving on...
I happened to see this book cover in a window display while walking through the mall today:
And my mind immediately went here:
..RIGHT?*
Anyway, upon reaching this, my train of thought's rather odd and unplanned destination, two things occurred to me.
1) I don't think aiming to very literally resemble Janice the muppet is the right strategy to being thought of as sexy. Although she would ostensibly be the "sexiest" of them (cool attitude, musically inclined, big pouty lips), I'm probably within the majority when I say that I've never found a muppet sexually appealing.
2) This could, on the other hand, be some bizarre subconscious effort on Ms. Somers' part to stave off the aging process by transforming into something that isn't actually alive. I guess a lot of today's well-known plastic surgery victims (Dolly, Mickey, Meg, Heidi, I could obviously go on and on...) could be said to be attempting the same thing. Like, in their twisted minds (and yes I do think there is something mentally wrong with these people), it's better to look like Barbie, or Janice, or a blow-up doll, or a cartoon, than to look *gasp* OLD. They would take rigid, plastic, cold, and lifeless over being even the slightest bit wrinkled, or gray.
To which I say... EW, gross. Aging is beautiful, and embracing your maturity and the years of life that have brought you to this moment is one of the classiest things anyone can do. This philosophy applies to both mental and physical aspects of one's being, as far as I'm concerned.
HOWEVER.
On the very very slight chance that Suzanne Somers is reading this blog right now, and this right here is my one and only shining chance to get my message across in a way that will make sense to a silicone-addled botox junkie, I present the following:
That's Hoggle, best (ok, only) known for his co-starring role alongside David Bowie and Jennifer Connelly in the classic 1986 film Labyrinth. Hoggle is a muppet. Granted, he was never really a looker, but he was a bonafide, dyed-in-the-wool, handcrafted by Henson himself, muppet. Made of foam and fibre, plastic and polyurethane, he never breathed, ate, ran or swam of his own volition. His rubbery skin was not designed to wrinkle (further). His tufty hair would never turn gray and fall out (any more than it already had).
But then someone left him in an unclaimed baggage storage locker for 30 years, and now he looks like this:
Suzanne: Did Death Becomes Her teach you NOTHING??????!?!?!!!!?
*(Sidenote, while googling a picture of Janice, I wasn't too shocked to see that I'm not the first person on the interweb to have made this comparison. Yikes.)
(Side-sidenote, who the hell photoshopped that book cover? It looks like her face is two-dimensional.)
I happened to see this book cover in a window display while walking through the mall today:
And my mind immediately went here:
..RIGHT?*
Anyway, upon reaching this, my train of thought's rather odd and unplanned destination, two things occurred to me.
1) I don't think aiming to very literally resemble Janice the muppet is the right strategy to being thought of as sexy. Although she would ostensibly be the "sexiest" of them (cool attitude, musically inclined, big pouty lips), I'm probably within the majority when I say that I've never found a muppet sexually appealing.
2) This could, on the other hand, be some bizarre subconscious effort on Ms. Somers' part to stave off the aging process by transforming into something that isn't actually alive. I guess a lot of today's well-known plastic surgery victims (Dolly, Mickey, Meg, Heidi, I could obviously go on and on...) could be said to be attempting the same thing. Like, in their twisted minds (and yes I do think there is something mentally wrong with these people), it's better to look like Barbie, or Janice, or a blow-up doll, or a cartoon, than to look *gasp* OLD. They would take rigid, plastic, cold, and lifeless over being even the slightest bit wrinkled, or gray.
To which I say... EW, gross. Aging is beautiful, and embracing your maturity and the years of life that have brought you to this moment is one of the classiest things anyone can do. This philosophy applies to both mental and physical aspects of one's being, as far as I'm concerned.
HOWEVER.
On the very very slight chance that Suzanne Somers is reading this blog right now, and this right here is my one and only shining chance to get my message across in a way that will make sense to a silicone-addled botox junkie, I present the following:
That's Hoggle, best (ok, only) known for his co-starring role alongside David Bowie and Jennifer Connelly in the classic 1986 film Labyrinth. Hoggle is a muppet. Granted, he was never really a looker, but he was a bonafide, dyed-in-the-wool, handcrafted by Henson himself, muppet. Made of foam and fibre, plastic and polyurethane, he never breathed, ate, ran or swam of his own volition. His rubbery skin was not designed to wrinkle (further). His tufty hair would never turn gray and fall out (any more than it already had).
But then someone left him in an unclaimed baggage storage locker for 30 years, and now he looks like this:
Suzanne: Did Death Becomes Her teach you NOTHING??????!?!?!!!!?
*(Sidenote, while googling a picture of Janice, I wasn't too shocked to see that I'm not the first person on the interweb to have made this comparison. Yikes.)
(Side-sidenote, who the hell photoshopped that book cover? It looks like her face is two-dimensional.)
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
I wish I wish I hadn't smashed that dish.
I can be uncoordinated and illogical at times, but normally I leave the spectacular displays of klutz-dom* to others. This, however, would be an exception to that rule.
I'm not pleased at all that I smashed this pot lid. It was one of the key players in the sophisticated, mostly improvisational semi-weekly performance I like to call "Makin' Curry". This lid was instrumental in the all-important simmering process, and would encourage my creations to bubble and thicken to a wonderfully delicious consistency, and all without losing any flavour. I can't believe it's gone. I've abstained from making any curries since I broke it... partly out of a weird form of self-punishment, and partly out of respect for the corresponding pot, who is probably only at the "bargaining" part of the five stages of grief right now.
Not to mention, the whole set was a wonderful gift from my wonderful mom, who is probably reading this and shaking her head with amused disapproval (I swear to god I was sober! It just slipped off the counter when I was washing up!).
Anyway - silver lining and all - I'll be damned if that pot didn't splinter into a pretty amazing looking disaster after coming to an abrupt meeting with my kitchen tile. So I took a picture of it.
Call me morbid if you will! I DID IT FOR ART!!!!!!!
*I totally can't stand the word "klutz". I guess it's apropos that the word itself is awkward, unflattering, and impossible to say without feeling like an idiot.
I'm not pleased at all that I smashed this pot lid. It was one of the key players in the sophisticated, mostly improvisational semi-weekly performance I like to call "Makin' Curry". This lid was instrumental in the all-important simmering process, and would encourage my creations to bubble and thicken to a wonderfully delicious consistency, and all without losing any flavour. I can't believe it's gone. I've abstained from making any curries since I broke it... partly out of a weird form of self-punishment, and partly out of respect for the corresponding pot, who is probably only at the "bargaining" part of the five stages of grief right now.
Not to mention, the whole set was a wonderful gift from my wonderful mom, who is probably reading this and shaking her head with amused disapproval (I swear to god I was sober! It just slipped off the counter when I was washing up!).
Anyway - silver lining and all - I'll be damned if that pot didn't splinter into a pretty amazing looking disaster after coming to an abrupt meeting with my kitchen tile. So I took a picture of it.
Call me morbid if you will! I DID IT FOR ART!!!!!!!
*I totally can't stand the word "klutz". I guess it's apropos that the word itself is awkward, unflattering, and impossible to say without feeling like an idiot.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Monday, January 3, 2011
Quickly, before it's too late.....
Tomorrow is the official end of any and all holiday-related breaks from work and the monotony of non-holiday life. BUT, in order to squeeze the last remaining droplets of festiveness out of the scant few hours I have left, today's photo will be a Christmas photo.
This is a photo of my very first Christmas fireplace in my very first own apartment, taken the night of the very first Christmas party I organized and hosted all by myself.
I still have a lot that I want to add to/change about this place... it's a work in progress. I'm very much in love with the idea of having my own space, and not having to compromise EVER on what I want to do with it.
I also really love that this photo, and in fact my entire existence in this town, wouldn't be possible without the contributions of people I love... namely, my mother and my aunt.
But above all... this photo is awesome because having a fireplace in the winter, especially in Winnipeg, is completely, utterly, cozily awesome.
I think I need to get a bearskin rug.
This is a photo of my very first Christmas fireplace in my very first own apartment, taken the night of the very first Christmas party I organized and hosted all by myself.
I still have a lot that I want to add to/change about this place... it's a work in progress. I'm very much in love with the idea of having my own space, and not having to compromise EVER on what I want to do with it.
I also really love that this photo, and in fact my entire existence in this town, wouldn't be possible without the contributions of people I love... namely, my mother and my aunt.
But above all... this photo is awesome because having a fireplace in the winter, especially in Winnipeg, is completely, utterly, cozily awesome.
I think I need to get a bearskin rug.
Sunday, January 2, 2011
The photo quotidian of 2011
Yes that's right; let's see how this little experiment goes.
A photo a day.
Sometimes with an explanation, sometimes presented without comment... because it's funner that way.
A photo a day. That's the only rule.
Oh, except for the only other rule, which is that January 1st doesn't count because I was mostly incapacitated by the siren call of couch, pizza, snoozing and Scott Pilgrim for the first 24 hours of the year. So, today only, I'll post two.
This was the photo I took to field-test my look for NYE 2011. And it's pretty much the only picture I have of the night, because immediately when I arrived at the party's location, I met a dude with an analog SLR and took every possible opportunity to use his camera when I thought a situation merited being captured. Maybe someday I'll get my hands on his photos from the night, scan one and put it up here! One can only dream.
I'm not going to explain this one, but if anyone were to put in even an iota of effort, you could probably figure it out.
Ok, day one (technically two, but who's counting. In fact I'm going to put a ban on counting of any kind, in any capacity, on this blog, and the rest of existence... starting now) done.
I'm looking forward to seeing what 2011 brings.
A photo a day.
Sometimes with an explanation, sometimes presented without comment... because it's funner that way.
A photo a day. That's the only rule.
Oh, except for the only other rule, which is that January 1st doesn't count because I was mostly incapacitated by the siren call of couch, pizza, snoozing and Scott Pilgrim for the first 24 hours of the year. So, today only, I'll post two.
This was the photo I took to field-test my look for NYE 2011. And it's pretty much the only picture I have of the night, because immediately when I arrived at the party's location, I met a dude with an analog SLR and took every possible opportunity to use his camera when I thought a situation merited being captured. Maybe someday I'll get my hands on his photos from the night, scan one and put it up here! One can only dream.
I'm not going to explain this one, but if anyone were to put in even an iota of effort, you could probably figure it out.
Ok, day one (technically two, but who's counting. In fact I'm going to put a ban on counting of any kind, in any capacity, on this blog, and the rest of existence... starting now) done.
I'm looking forward to seeing what 2011 brings.
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