random email exchange with my sister

P: WOW! Would have guessed different! (discussing a friend's age) Guess we can't all have our perfect genes :) DO NOT tell her this !!!!

STill painting (she's renoing her new clinic) .... Feeling very guilty about leaving Melissa here over the weekend to finish up. Maybe we could all pitch in tomorrow or come back Saturday and paint... and decorate... sound like fun!!!!! Way better accomodations :) Feeling stressed as still so much to do!!!

What was the name of the place I met you at before the bar bands? I want to eat there tonight.

Paula
PS - not loving the colors - need to do something about it. Maybe big pieces of art?!?!?!


K: yeah, we should really thank mum more often for those genes .....

painting sounds fun, you know I love it (I should really seek therapy for this)

it was Subeez ---- that's a good idea. maybe I will ask Adam to take the mutts out so I don't have to rush home .....

big art, that's the idea ---- maybe someone could do a mural of a huge hand
.....


P: I am going to get some big canvasses and go nuts a la abstract!

Off to get my eyebrows done..... of the pains i go through to be so "naturally" beautiful!


K: i need my brows done, too

P: and I need new clothes....

K: we need to find a pot of gold

P: if you fake your own death how much do I get????? What about the good old insurance plan????? There must be some money for us...
Have you had cake yet????????


K: if I fake my death you get $136,800.00 --- not worth it =)
cake is not until 3:30
how do the brows look?????

P: brows are fabulous. Need new summer shoes.
End world hunger or new shoes??? Am i shallow????
Eat some cake for me. Why 3:30?????


K: one pair of shoes will not end world hunger, it's all relative
wearing new shoes will enable you to go out confidently and crusade for the end to world hunger wearing new shoes will make you stand out and then people will listen to you discuss the importance of ending world hunger
I will sacrifice myself and eat cake in your honour


P: you make a good point!
Housewarming gift for Marcus??? Any ideas????

K: can pretty much justify anything when it comes to shoes ....
housewarming gift -- let me ponder

Seen on Hornby Street

Just walking up the street on my way back to the office from lunch and this little man, okay maybe not technically "little", but significantly shorter than my 5'9, was walking down the street in a business suit with a brand new ice-pick-axe thing over his shoulder. I couldn't help myself, I tried, but I couldn't help it, I started singing:

"high ho, high ho, it's off to work we go ...."

He turned around.

I really have to learn to use that inside voice.

Mad Hot Ballroom

My new obsession with this really, really horrible "reality" television show prompted a friend to recommend Mad Hot Ballroom. This is a truly outstanding film. I smiled, grinned, laughed and cheered the whole way through. I am not a film reviewer, so won't even try. Just GO SEE THIS FILM. Trust me.

Best line:

During a discussion about whether they are "interested" in any of their partners in a boyfriend-girlfriend kind of way (keep in mind that these kids are in grade 5) :

"What do I look for in a boy? Well, he has to be really interested in school, and not deal drugs. yeah, he can't deal drugs, that's for sure. No dealing drugs."

I am paraphrasing, but you get the gist. This is their reality. Sad.

The other highlight for me was seeing the girls being so supportive of each other. They genuinely wanted each other to succeed. They cheered and clapped and encouraged ..... girls, especially of the adolescent variety, are generally catty and competitive and downright mean. These girls were there for each other in every sense. This gave me the warm fuzzies.

GO SEE THIS FILM

The dress almost won

I know I will regret posting the following, but I can always delete it later.

I went to a wedding last night. Or, rather, the wedding banquet as the actual wedding was a few weeks ago. This was the first of about 6 I have this summer. I bought a great dress last week that will do for all 6 (all different people, thankfully) as well as a few other summer events coming up. Simple yet elegant black strapless with white ivy-type stuff embroidered on it. I already had the perfect shoes (another 90% Cole Haan off bargain from last season --- black and white strappy sandals with a 3-inch wedge) and jewelry etc. so it was a no-brainer. The only problem is that with a strapless dress one has to be quite certain of the fit and it has to fit quite snugly so as to ensure that it actually stays where it is supposed to under many different circumstances (I have been a victim of the migrating dress at a very formal occasion and have no wish to repeat that, ever). That being said, this dress fit perfectly and I didn't give it another thought. Until last night when I was getting ready to go. Running late (as usual). With no one other than my trusty little guard dog to assist.

Apparently I am carrying about 6 extra pounds this week, all in front. This will not be the case next week. Get it? Consequently I could not get the rather awkwardly positioned side-zip all the way up, unassisted. Cute and talented though she may be, Maggie does not have opposable thumbs. I did not have a plan "B".

WhatthehellamIgoingtodonow????????

The only logical thing, obviously: zip up the dress and then maneuver it down over my head in a truly logic-defying, contortionist feat that I hope to never have to repeat. It worked. The dress went on and off I went.

The wedding was lovely ---- a traditional Chinese Banquet for about 150 people. It was also probably a very good thing that 14 of the 15 courses were seafood, so I couldn't actually eat anything, thus minimizing the risk of the dress exploding. I could, however, drink from my bottomless wine glass. Hence that rather foggy brain and voice today.

Tug-o-War

This is Maggie and her friend, Max, playing tug-o-war with Maggie's favourite toy in the world, her bear. Max's mum just sent me the photo.

I have tried to replace this bear (it's a little embarassing, to be honest) but she won't have any of it. Brat.

It can be done.

I know, because I have been doing it all day. Walking in flip-flops without making that annoying flip-flop sound.

(I am also aware that I am doing what I condemned others for doing a few short weeks ago --- my rules, I can break 'em)

I am also entirely aware that I made a poor shoe choice this morning but they were practically begging to be worn!! They match my top perfectly and are just about the cutest shoes ever and I haven't had the opportunity to wear them since I bought them at the end of last season --- $200.00 Cole Haan fuchsia and orange leather flip-flops (with a bow) that I got for 90% off (sometimes it really pays to have size 12 feet).

I actually didn't notice how annoying the sound was until I was half-way down the block this morning (running late) and didn't have time to go back and re-think the footwear situation. So I have been making a conscious effort to not make that sound when walking and it is surprisingly easy and why I am now calling BULLSHIT on all those who maintain that "it's not their fault" "all flip-flops make that sound" "it's not that annoying".

It is, they don't and it is, in that order.

Here she is --- the best damn guard dog in the world

Best damn guard dog in the world, originally uploaded by finn_644.

Finally, I have figured out how to post photos to this damn blog. This is Maggie, aka Princess Snoryface aka TBDGDITW.

Holy shit --- I think she really is a guard dog!!!!!

Maggie is not a barker in that she knows how to bark and does bark on occasion, like when she sits at the bottom of trees trying to convince the squirrels to come down and play (not an effective method, by the way), or when every other dog in the room is barking, but does not bark often. I love and nurture this particular quality.

I sleep like the dead. The running joke in our family is that a bloody marching band could parade through my room while I was sleeping and I wouldn't move.

The two of us together make an easy target for "prowlers". Except for last night. At 4:43 a.m. Maggie sounded the alarm with the most panic-stricken bark/howl/growl I have ever heard. I woke up with a start, heart pounding and in my throat --- WTF????? She was going MENTAL!!!

Last fall there was a black bear sitting right outside my bedroom window and Princess Snoryface didn't even bother to wake up, let alone sound the alarm. This morning, something was definitely going on. There was a "prowler" creeping around between the houses and Maggie apparently scared it away.

Good little watch dog.

For women only

Further to a discussion I had with three girlfriends this weekend as to why it sometimes pays to pay someone huge amounts of money for certain things.

WARNING: For women only. If you are a man and are reading this, stop. If you continue to read I take no responsibility and will not accept any flack for this post. You have been warned. For the women, you will all relate to some degree. I cannot take credit for writing it --- I am neither that brave nor that stupid. Here goes ....

One woman's story:

All methods have tricked me with their promises of easy, painless removal:
the Epilady, the standard razor, the scissors, the Nair, the EpilStop, and now The Wax.

My night began as any other normal weekday night. I came home, fixed dinner
for my family and got everyone settled for the night. I then had the thought that would ring painfully in my mind for the next couple hours: maybe I should use that wax in my medicine cabinet. I made sure no one would need me and I could head for the bathroom in peace.
It was one of those cold wax kits. No melting a clump of hot wax, you just rub the clear strips in your hand, peel them apart, press it on your leg (or wherever). No muss, no fuss. How hard can this be? I mean, I'm not the girliest of girls but I'm mechanically inclined so maybe I can figure out how this works.

You'd think.

So I pull one of the thin strips out. It's two strips facing each other, stuck together. I'm supposed to rub it in my hand to warm and soften the wax. I go one better. I pull out the hair dryer and heat the SOB to ten thousand degrees. Cold wax, my ass. (Oh, how that phrase will come back to haunt me.) I lay the strip across my thigh. I hold the skin around it and pull. OK, so it wasn't the best feeling in the world, but it wasn't bad. I can do this! So with my next wax strip, I'll move north. After checking on my beloved family again, I sneak into the bathroom for The Ultimate Hair Fighting Championship. I drop my panties and place one foot on the toilet. Using the same procedure, I then apply the wax strip across the right side on my bikini line, covering the right half of my vagina and stretching up into the inside of the right ass cheek. (Yeah, it was a long strip.)

I inhale deeply. I brace myself. RRRIIIIPPP!!!! I'm blind from the pain! Vision returning. Oh crap. I've managed to pull off half an inch of the strip. Another deep breath. And RIIIP!! Everything is swirly and tie-dyed. Do I hear crashing drums? OK, coming back to normal again. I want to see my trophy -- my wax covered pelt that caused me so much agony. I want to revel in the glory that is my triumph over body hair. I hold the wax strip like an Olympic gold medalist. But why is there no hair on it? Why is the wax mostly gone? Where could the wax go, if not on the strip?

Slowly, I eased my head down, my foot still perched on the toilet. I see hair -- the hair that should be on the strip. I touch. I feel. I am touching wax. I look to the ceiling and silently shout. Nooooooo!! I peel my fingers off the softest, most sensitive part of my body that is now covered in cold wax and matted hair, and make the next big mistake -- up until this point, you'll remember, I've had my foot on the toilet. I know I need to move, to do something. So I put my foot down on the floor. And then I hear the slamming of the cell door.

Vagina? Sealed shut.
Ass? Sealed shut.

A little voice in my head says, "I hope you don't have to shit anytime soon. Your head just might pop off." I penguin walk around the bathroom trying desperately to figure out what I should do next. Hot water! Hot water melts wax! I'll run the hottest water I can stand and get in. The wax should melt and I can gently wipe it away, right? Wrong. I get in the tub -- the water is slightly hotter than is used to torture prisoners of war or sterilize surgical equipment -- and I sit.
Now the only thing worse than having your goodies glued together is having them glued together and then glued to the bottom of a tub. In scalding hot water. Which, by the way, does not melt the cold wax. So now I'm stuck in the tub--literally!

I call my friend, Liz, because she once dropped out of beauty school so surely she has some secret knowledge or trick to get wax off skin. It's never good to start a conversation with "So my ass and vagina are stuck to the tub." She wants to know exactly where the wax is on the ass. "Are we talking cheek or hole, here?" she asks. She isn't even trying to hide the giggles now. I give her the run-down of the entire night. She tells me to call the number on the side of the box, but to have a good cover story for where the wax actually is.
"You know that if we were working the help line at XX Wax Co. and somebody called with their entire crack sealed shut we'd just put them on hold then record the conversation for everyone we know. You're going to end up on a radio show or the internet if you tell them the truth."

While we go through various solutions, I have resorted to scraping the wax off with a razor. Boy, nothing feels better to the girlie goodies than covering them in wax, sticking them to a tub in super hot water and THEN dry shaving the sticky wax off!

In the middle of the conversation (which has inexplicably turned to other subjects!) I find the lotion provided with the wax to remove the excess. I rub some in and start screaming "It's working! It's working!" I get hearty congratulations from Liz and we hang up. I successfully remove all the wax and notice, to my dismay, that the hair is still there. So I shaved the damned stuff off.

Hell, I was numb by that point anyway. I put the box of wax back in my medicine cabinet. Never know when a moustache might start to come in.

seen and heard on Robson Street

4 tuff guys driving this car, with Eminem's new ass and slinky song at full volume, hats to the side, gold around their necks, wife beaters in full view, checking out and making the "scene" when all of a sudden:

"Dude --- turn down the music! It's my mum on the phone!"

music is turned off

"Yes mum, I'm coming home now. No, I don't have any friends in the car. Love you"

music back full tilt and off they went

I love the tuff kids from West Van ....

It's all in the timing

Can someone please explain this to me:

Last year I was head over heels about someone. He was seemingly my perfect match, though he just didn't know it. We were/are friends so it could have been awkward, but nothing came of it other than some ferocious flirting on both sides and an interesting situation that came about when we were out one night with a bunch of people and I actually had the nerve to devote the majority of my attention to someone else. That did not sit well with him, but neither did he do anything about it other than pout and generally act like a spoiled child. Fish or cut bait, I say.I got over my "crush" let's call it, and we have continued being friends, no awkwardness, no weirdness.

Recently he has been doing the pouty, spoiled child bit again (not as unattractive as I am making it out to be, really, but I can't think of a better way to explain it) and I was talking to another friend of his today who let it slip that I might be a big part of the reason why his last two forays into the dating world were less than successful. Great, that's what I need, something else to feel guilty about.

I am so done with games and I don't want to play this one. Why couldn't he have been on the same page as me last year and not now?

CYA

When I make a mistake (which, albeit, is a rare occurrence) I am the first to cop to it. I respect those who do likewise and view those who pass the buck as one of the lowest forms of pond scum.

If you loose something or forget to do something or whatever, DO NOT blame it on me. I learned many, many years ago to paper my way through files --- CYA. Document everything so that 5 years down the line when something goes pear-shaped and memories are somewhat fuzzy as to the course of events, there is hard evidence. You have to do this or else some idiot out there will SUE YOUR ASS. So, that being said, don't blame your mistakes on me and make me look like an idiot. Just because you are young and cute and have a pretty face don't think you will get away with it. Remember these three things: I am older than you, smarter than you and know a hell of a lot more than you do.

Also, pissing me off and making me look bad are probably not the way to get me to help you along.

A musical weekend

Friday night I went to the annual Battle of the Bar Bands at the Commodore with a group of friends, most of whom had not attended in past years. When I issue the invitation to go and see a bunch of lawyers pretending to be rock stars the general reaction is: "Sure? it's for charity, right? Could be interesting ..." Well, the level of talent within our legal community is actually quite surprising and it seems I have recruited a few more groupies for our firm's band, The Retainers. The highlight for me had to be the Retainers' version of the BNL's Brian Wilson: you know that the guy signing has been an A-class geek since the day he entered kindergarten and there he was, in his Tommy jeans worn just a little too high, his slightly off haircut and nerdy glasses, fully rocking out and having the time of his life. For that instant he was a ROCKSTAR.

None of the bands disappointed and we danced our little hearts out to surprisingly good renditions of U2 (though I firmly believe that no one should try and pretend that they are Bono, it just doesn't work), the Killers and even Nancy Sinatra (I must find out where she got those amazing hot pink go-go boots). The lingering question in my mind, however, is why, why, why is it always the "married with kids" guys that hit on me and why do they think that telling me about their wives and children and how misunderstood they are will endear them to me? Do I have "Homewrecker" stamped on my forehead? Trust me, that is not something I am likely to add to my resume in the foreseeable future.

I took the mutt for an epic hike Sunday morning (to assuage my guilt for lack of activity Saturday) and returned home to see that "WORK" was on my call display. Nothing brings me down on a Sunday afternoon like seeing "WORK" on my call display. I contemplated pretending that I didn't see it, but my conscience kicked in and I checked the message. Thank God I did because it was one of the boys offering up 2 tickets for the Sarah McLachlan concert that night!! It was AWESOME!!!!! I have seen Sarah many, many times and she never disappoints; last night's show was truly beautiful and it was 2 hours of pure Sarah.

If I had to pick one artist that has been the soundtrack for my adult life it would be her --- I couldn't listen to Fumbling Towards Ecstasy or The Freedom Sessions for quite a few years without sobbing, but have come out of that and it was a pleasure to hear those songs performed beautifully last night. And as sappy a movie as that trainwreck starring Meg Ryan and Nicholas Cage was, experiencing "Angel" live, with just her vocals and her piano, was chilling. It was a magical evening.

Now I want to be a rockstar ......

$#@!&^% Generic Drug Labels

Ibuprofen or acetaminophen ---- which one is the anti-inflammatory? This is critical to me at the moment I am in pain and I forgot my super-strength painkillers at home so am left at the mercy of the office-supplied generic brands and can't remember which one to take. Name brands I know; generic medicinal terms? not so much. ARGH!!!!!!

How I came to be in this predicament:

Maggie and I have 3 basic routes we take: the regular, the long and the oh-my-god-I-slept-in-and-still-have-to run-the-mutt. The first two start out the same and where I turn right for the regular, which takes about 40 minutes in the morning, I turn left at night, turning it into an hour and a half for after work and weekend mornings. The third one is a total cop-out, but does the trick in 20 minutes.

Anyway, last night I got to the turn around point of the long route and decided what the hell, let's take this route all the way and head down to Ambleside. I started running again this week after a 3 month break and was feeling pretty good, so off we went. The mutt was thrilled and the trek down and back actually was not too painful; nice and cool out and I actually love running up hill. Maggie got lots of swims and chased a few bunnies and other fauna and the two of us arrived back at the manse slightly muddied and pooped, but feeling pretty good about life in general.

Then THE PAIN set in. At about 10 o'clock last night there were not enough drugs or ice on the planet to make me happy. The major flaw of the house I am living in right now is that it doesn't have a tub. I am not a huge bath taker (I actually have a hard time sitting still for that long) but at times like last night, all I wanted was a huge soaker tub with tons of hot, hot water and Epsom salts. Not happening. The washer/dryer, dishwasher, fireplace, 10 ft ceilings, etc do make up for the lack of tub. Most of the time. Not last night. I bound a gel-pack around my damn knee with a tensure, popped some pills and hoped for the best.

I managed to get some sleep (Princess Snoryface wasn't having any of these problems, snuggled as she was on the floor at the foot of my bed) and felt just a little stiff in the joints. Nothing too major and it worked itself out on the "regular" walk this a.m. Hence, I neglected to pack the pills in my purse when I came downtown. Which brings me to the dilemma at hand: which damn pills do I take???? I'm opting for the ibu and hoping for the best.

Getting old SUCKS!!!

I call bullshit

on all you men out there who insist that you buy and read Playboy Magazizne "for the articles". Granted, Playboy has had some pretty incredible writers submit articles ---John Steinbeck, PG Wodehouse and Somerset Maughan to name but a few, but really, can you not admit that first and foremost you buy it for the myriad of beautiful, naked and semi-naked women who adorn its pages? The interesting reading is really just a lucky by-product. (prompted by a conversation I had with a friend over the weekend when he for some reason felt the need to justify his magazine purchase to me)

That's kind of like me maintaining that I watch The Hour for its edgy news content. I might say that, and if you believe me, that's fine. But the real reason is the yummylicious host. Granted he is a good interviewer and there are a few good segments on the show. But if I'm being honest, if it weren't for the host I wouldn't be watching. Fact is I tape the thing thereby having the ability to fast-forward through all the ads, the boring stuff and the slightly annoying tricky camera work-driven "documentaries" which makes my version of the Hour more like 25 minutes. And if I learn something by watching? Again, a lucky by-product.

So I can also admit the reason I tuned in to the Diane Sawyer interview of Brad Pitt last night certainly wasn't to learn about his involvement in the ONE Campaign. As if. It was to watch Brad. That's the reason I will pay $11 to see Mr. & Mrs. Smith (which has the fortunate advantage of also starring Angelina Jolie who is what I would choose to look like if given the choice, sans tatties, Billy-Bob and blood vials, but I digress). And why I suffered through dogs like Meet Joe Black, 7 Years in Tibet, The Mexican, Troy and Legends of the Fall. He's gorgeous to look at, plain and simple, and man does he cry well. However, for all those dogs, and there are MANY, there is also Kalifornia, True Romance, 12 Monkeys, A River Runs Through It and yes, even Ocean's 11 (not 12).

That being said, I tuned in to Ms. Sawyer's interview last night fully expecting the usual "I am putting out a new movie, going through a very public divorce, I am not nor did I ever have an affair with Angelina Jolie" kind of thing. WRONG. Instead it was of the two of them strolling through villages in Africa, surrounded by children, advocating the importance of education as the root to the end of poverty in our lifetime. He came across as intelligent, caring, knowledgeable even. I know he is an actor and has the ability to play to the cameras and all that. But it seemed to me at least that he was actually trying to use his own "wanted by the press" status as an avenue to get the message out. He even alluded to the "bounty" put on his head by various publications for illicit photos of himself and Angelina, saying that he would have gladly given the photos to the press had the money been used instead to further the education of the children. This is not original, I know, but it got to me. Which is why I am glad that while I orginally sat down to simply watch Mr. Pitt and his pretty face in action, the lucky by-product of this interview was a critical message that I truly hopes gets driven home.

So this moring I went here and ordered 10. The yellow one on my wrist will be complimented well by the white.

Where were you when I was 7?

I was in an absolutely foul mood just before lunch today, so I went straight to my "happy place", Holt Renfrew (think Holly Golightly in Breakfast at Tiffany's). Trying on ridiculously expensive shoes and jewelry just makes me feel better and it's a hell of a lot cheaper than therapy.

Anyway, I gravitated over to Links of London where the bracelet that I have been coveting for a while now and might actually be able to buy courtesy of a very generous gift from someone who will remain nameless, resides.

While I was admiring the bracelet on my wrist a gentleman came in to the department looking for a birthday gift for a "young lady". Now "young lady" is a very vague term and he was of a very vague age so of course I listened in. He then turned to me and asked for my help choosing something. We looked at several different bracelets before deciding on a gorgeous gold (18k) charm bracelet with adorable gold and pink enamel charms: ballet shoe, Kelly bag, diamond ring, puppy, teddy bear. Cost: $3,500!!!!!!!!! He had the bracelet and each charm wrapped in a separate box "so that she would have more to open".

I asked what birthday the lucky young lady was celebrating.



The answer?






7

LilyKate

Last night my girlfriends took me to LilyKate for dinner. It's a relatively new restaurant in Yaletown and is my new favourite place. All pink and green but not too fussy. Great food and generous cocktails and a good yet reasonably priced wine list. (Not to mention a special coffee called "The Finnegan"; Cindy had one of those) In a word, YUMMY!!!!

Started with a "Ruby" --- champagne and Raspberry Champbord, a delicious variation on my traditional favourite Kir Royal. Pink and fizzy, what could be better, really?

We shared some sides: potato, tomato and fontina gratin and roasted vegetables. I had a spinach salad avec chevre, two others had the harvest salad and Nicola had wild mushroom and spinach risotto. All excellent.

I am not a huge fan of dessert, but the manager was buying so we got a piece of the house special: coconut layer cake. Heaven!!

It was a fabulous girly evening.

Just when you thought it was safe to turn on your television

The fine folks at ABC bring us this

Lord have mercy.