Wednesday, October 29, 2008

CALIFORNIA!

Ah, the time has finally come: come stuffy nose or mushroom cut, I am off for California bright and eaaaaaarly tomorrow morning!

I'm going to try to post as much as I can while I'm away, so there should be lots to look forward to for all of us. (But, I mean, mostly me. Because I'll have the beach and you guys will have pictures of the beach and me describing how awesome the beach is. Suckers!)

If you're new to the blog, leave comments! They make me happy. If you're old to the blog, leave comments! They make me happy.

See you in the sunshine, bitches!

xo

Tuesday, October 28, 2008

I Asked for Adorable!!!

I have... THE WORST HAIRCUT EVER.

Okay, it's not quite that bad. But I definitely look more like a little boy than I feel comfortable with.

I asked for a cut, sorta short but long enough so that I could tuck it behind my ear. I even brought in THREE pictures with me to show her exactly how I wanted it.

And now I am stuck with hair that's too short to be tucked behind my ears and that looks nothing like the pictures but everything like this kid:


Alright. So it's not shaved underneath. But slap me in a number 5 jersey, some b-ball shorts and a pair of high tops and I swear to God you'd have trouble telling us apart.

Also, just FYI, when you google image search the term "little boy mushroom cut" you get a lot of pictures of the atomic bomb. Who knew?? (Except the really nerdy. And they don't count.)

Apparently the new cut has done wonders for my trustworthy-factor because a very interesting incident happened to me in the ladies washroom at Chapter's today. (You can get your mind out of the gutter right now because it did not involve a glory hole, the safety word 'bananas', or panties. Dirty! DIRTY!)

I walked in to survey the damage (butchery? atrocity? hair genocide?) to my lovely locks and as I was taking stock of the situation an adorable little baby came in. She was kinda cute, with these really big blue eyes, so I gave her a little coo and she smiled at me (I liked this baby. She didn't recoil in fear at the sight of my hair). I smiled at the mom and gave her the ole "your kid is cute" grin. She smiled back (I liked this mom. She didn't ask out loud what a little boy like myself was doing in the women's washroom).

And then........ she asked me if I would hold her kid while she used the bathroom.

Uh. What??!

I mean, this is Toronto, and we were in one of the busiest malls in the country. If I had a kid, I would glue her to me so that she didn't get lost, abducted, or into the crack cocaine scene (if you can call it a "scene"... It's probably more like a "behind a dumpster in the alley, quick before the cops come"). I certainly would not let a stranger (with an odd haircut and a wheezy cough no less) watch my kid for me in a public bathroom.

But ask she did. And I couldn't say no.

If you know me, the fact that I was watching a kid in a bathroom for a stranger is pretty unbelievable for 1 major reason: I absolutely hate holding babies.

Sure, I like them from afar. Afar where they can't poo on me or spit up on me or look at me funny. Afar where they can't tug at my hair (if my hair is even long enough to tug. Hmpf), gurgle in my face, or start to cry. Holding babies makes me feel....... awkward. So, I avoid it at all costs - until a stranger. Asks me to hold one. In a public restroom.

Anyway. I got through it. It was an awkward 2 minutes though, let me tell you. Especially when after handing her to me the mom cheerily proclaimed "here's her spit up cloth! She's kinda pukey!"

She didn't puke though. And she didn't cry. And I still have my boy hair cut.

You've won this round, baby. You've won this round.

Monday, October 27, 2008

From Miserable to California in 3 Days


I.
Am.
Miserable.

I have a chest cold - AGAIN - and I can't stop complaining. I'm snotty, I'm whiny, I'm wheezy, and I'm crabby. I almost yelled at the couple in front of me at the bank because they didn't know what a PIN was; I just about pushed this dude out of my way at the drugstore because he was blocking the cough syrup I wanted; I am about to go apeshit on my neighbour because she's retarded and just started her laundry now - 7.45pm - and the machines are supposed to be off at 9pm.

I'm no fun, no fun at all.

I've tried everything to perk up my mood: I ordered Pizza Hut (mmmm... cheese!), I watched 30 Rock (mmmmm... Tina Fey!), I looked at my pictures from my last trip to Cali (mmmm... the beach!)... and no dice. I'm destined to be grumpy until I can breathe normally again and can bury my feet in warm sand.

But - I won't submit you to listening to me complain for a whole blog. I'm going to put on my big girl panties, forget about The Grumps, and make a little list of all the fun California things I'm planning so that you can get super jealous and I can get super excited. Hopefully we'll both come out the other side thinking how lucky I am to be embarking on The Best Vacation Ever.

1. The Beach. God, I love the beach. The whoosh of the waves, the crisp salty air, the dirty needles, the dead fish. It's like Eden, except without trees and Satan.

Seriously, though, how can you not be happy at the beach? It's so relaxing. The first thing I'm going to do after picking my pal Rikki up is hightail it to a beach, plop my tired ass down, and be quiet. I think I can convincingly argue that the last couple of months have been quite hectic for me, so I deserve a good solid afternoon of communing with the water and letting all my stresses go. Ahhhh. I'm starting to relax already.

2. The Concerts. I can think of nothing more exciting than a Jason Mraz concert in his adopted hometown on Halloween. And then I get to do it all again in LA the next night. It's basically going to be a double-dose of joy and hilarity, and I can't wait.

3. The Halloween Costume. I can't tell you what it is yet, but I can tell you it's going to be good. Very a pros pos, very riske, very... hilarious. It's like all of my dreams coming true in one outfit? Really. Expect pictures this weekend!

4. The Ellen Degeneres Show. I don't know what a VIP ticket means, but I have one and I'm thrilled! I'm hoping it means that we get massages, overflowing and extravagant gift bags, a fireplace heated only by burning $50 bills, and a pony. I'll be happy with good seats and a handshake from Ellen, though.

5. The iO West. I've been taking classes here in Toronto in the same style of improv as these folks preform and I'm excited to get a taste of what it's like LA-style. I imagine it'll be just the same, except warmer and with more sand in the underpants? Either way, it'll be interesting to check it out. Hopefully there will be friendly audience members that will want to take me under their wing and hang out with me (desperate = me). I'm flying solo for about 5 days and I'm hoping to make some friends. And by friends I mean rich men who will marry me so I can get US citizenship and leave behind the snow and cold and soul-crushing-ness of Canada.

6. The Spring Awakening & Wicked. I've been dying to see Spring Awakening since I bought the Original Cast Recording off of Itunes a couple of months ago. Lucky me, the tour just so happens to be stopping in LA while I'm there! Now I don't have to wait until May of next year to get my teenage sex on in Toronto (read the synopsis here so that the previous joke makes sense and is not just super creepy). And even though I've seen Wicked too many times to put on a blog so that everyone can make fun of me for being a loser, I'm going again while I'm out in LA. Megan Hilty is closing the LA run of the show and I thought it would be nice to see her again while I can. She's a really hilarious Glinda and I think it'll be really interesting to see how/if her performance has evolved.

Plus I am just a huge geek and will go see Wicked wherever/whenever I can. There. I said it. Shaaaaaaaaaaaame.

7. The Kyle Riabko. All my music friends seem to like him, so I'm excited to check him out and see what all the fuss is about. Plus, he's Canadian so we will probs bond over poutine and Stephen Harper and be bffs 4 lyfe.

8. The Seeing the Hills Being Filmed. I can't wait to blow the lid off of the biggest secret since Jesus being a father: the Hills is fake y'all, and I aim to prove it. I'll see you on the mean streets of Hollywood, LC. I'll be the one with my papparazzi camera following you wherever you go. No, not him. The chick. No, the one with the Tina Fey glasses. Nono, the one to her left. In the green. Yep. Yep! ME. Your worst nightmare!

I think that's it? I mean, I'm sure there's more. But my ass is starting to hurt and I'm so whoozy from The Sickness I can't really be bothered to keep typing. Plus, I have to yell at my retarded neighbour re: her retardness so it's best I stop here for now.

I'm planning on blogging my entire trip anyways so expect lots more starting this weekend.

Until then, friends...
m.

Monday, October 13, 2008

Britney's Vagina Or, Melissa Has Bad Ideas #47



It's been an absolutely beautiful weekend here in Toronto - sunny and warm and breezy. Add in the dazzling multi-coloured leaves and you've pretty much got the kind of October long weekend dreams are made of.

Naturally, as a budding photographer my first instinct is to grab my camera and capture the moment on film so I can brag to all my friends about how lovely it was and no big deal yeah I took that shot of the ladybugs having sex. So I set out for the Mount Pleasant Cemetery around sunset this evening to do some shooting in the favourable light.

I've actually spent a lot of time in the cemetery - it's a great place to bike or stroll around, particularly in the old part with its majestic trees and interesting tombstone variety - and since all the graves in there are super old so it feels more antique-y than super creepy. Plus all the hot joggers are in the old section, so I mean really? It's a no brainer.

Luckily for me tonight I was rewarded with more than buff, sweaty, super toned, barely clad (I could go on...) men - the trees were truly stunning and in the soft sunset light they appeared positively luminescent. I set about the picture taking with zeal, snapping off a round centered on the giant orange beast by the front gates. In my zeal, however, I managed to get my glasses totally covered in fingerprints, which is absolutely hands down the most irritating thing on the planet to me (somewhere in a posh New York brownstone Elisabeth Hasslebeck sleeps a little more soundly on her 500,000 thread count sheets made entirely of hair recovered from Dubya's shower drain). No matter where I am (super important work meeting? a nudist colony?) I absolutely have to clean my glasses at the slightest sign of a smudge.

After cleaning my lenses approximately 400 times I decided to take the damn glasses off already and hang them over one of the straps of my teeny tiny walking "purse" (it's the size of my cell phone and I can literally fit that and my house keys in there - perfect for a casual stroll around a cemetery or for Accessories That Are Impractically Small Day at the office). As you've probably already predicted, this was the worst idea that I've had since trying to untangle my Ipod headphones by a sewer grate - and yes, it just about ended up the same way.

After a particularly rigurous photo session in which I piled up a bunch of leaves and then kicked them around while taking pictures of it (it's called Artistic Vision and I'll thank you not to comment the methods I use to achieve photographic brilliance), I noticed that my glasses had somehow gone missing. At first I thought I was going a little crazy so I triple checked that they weren't actually still on my face or propped up on my hat. I think to an outsider I must have looked like Helen Keller trying to learn the word for face (what? too soon?)... either that or I just looked plain nuts, which is a very real possibility as only minutes before I had been chasing around a super cute squirrel who had a nut in its mouth and calling directions to him like he was the bitchy, hungry wannabe model on ANTM and I was a skinnier version of Tyra Banks (zzzzzzzzzing!).

After being absolutely sure that the glasses were indeed not on my head and must therefore be lost somewhere amongst the leaves I set about trying to find them. For convenience's sake, I'm going to make a brief list of all the reasons why this is possibly the most futile search and rescue mission since Britney Spears started looking for her dignity (some things we just can't unsee, Britney. NSFW.):

1. I lost the glasses underneath a 200 year old maple tree and if you've ever seen a 200 year old maple tree you know they have a LOT of leaves... 3/4 of which were now piled all over the ground, like a leaf version of the perfect storm.

2. As I was kicking up piles of leaves and basically making a mess of the area, the likelihood of the glasses being in the same position as when I lost them is very very slim. The likelihood of them being buried under a giant pile of leaves or kicked into a whole other location I'd never think to look in? Very high.

3. Looking for glasses without the aid of said glasses is a lot like watching the Mini Me sex tape : you aren't exactly sure what you're looking at, but you're pretty sure that it's going to end badly.

So I'm frantically kicking through the leaves, muttering to myself about glasses and squirrels and jagged pointy tongues coming at me, when the cemetery security patrol pulls up to inform me that the cemetery is now closed. Knowing that there's no way around avoiding looking like a total spazz, I tell the guard the truth. I think he must have felt badly for me (I would have read the expression on his face except that it just looked like a fuzzy blob) so he got out and helped me.

Together it took us nearly 15 minutes of kicking around leaves (and possibly a squirrel or two) to find my glasses. But the point is WE FOUND THEM! Unlike the Ipod situation there was no $400 rainbow at the end of this tunnel: there was a free rainbow, which is better than a $400 rainbow because it allows me to purchase something pretty for myself from LA.

Take a look at some of my pictures - let me know if you think the 15 minutes of misery and shame were worth it. I vote yes, but only because funny stories like these are why I started a blog in the first place. It's called Schadenfreude, and I will ride that horse until it dies from exhaustion.






Saturday, October 11, 2008

My Nan is a Baller & Other Things I Am Thankful For



Ahhh, Thanksgiving. A time for quiet reflection about all the things one has to be thankful for, like family, good heath, and the existance of cheese. It's also a time to eat so much turkey and pie that you think you'll explode. In other words, it's the best time ever.

This year was actually a quiet celebration in comparison to years past: my nan, my uncle Barrie and Auntie Ann, our good family friend Carol, and my parents and I celebrated today because my parents are pulling out for Florida tomorrow (it's okay to mutter "bastards" under your breath right now. I am.). As a result of the wonky day, half the family couldn't make it; which is fine because it meant more pie for me (List of Things Melissa is Thankful For #1: less family = more pie).

The day started off terribly (which in Melissa-speak means I got stuck in traffic). Actually, and I'm not even exagerating about this, it was some of the worst traffic I've had to sit in going North. It was bumper to bumper starting in Vaughn and going all the way through to the Georgian Campus college. Needless to say, I got grumpy. Fast. I also got bored so I took pictures, which by the way is suuuuuuper safe! (Um? I'm now convinced that this is how every traffic accident has ever happened.)

This is what I sat in for AN HOUR AND A HALF. (FYI - this drive normally takes 45 minutes. Feel my pain. FEEL IT!)


Actually that picture doesn't really do it justice. It looked more like this:



Awesome.

So after getting through the parking lot that was the 400 to Barrie, I sailed smoothly through to Parry Sound (<-- LoTMiTf #2: If I'd had to sit in traffic beyond Barrie I think my head might have exploded...). I've never seen the leaves turn this early in the year - I blame this on the Worst Winter Ever and the Why Is the Universe Making Us Suffer so Much in One Year Freezing Cold Summer - and the view was spectacular. So even though I was running almost an hour behind, I stopped at a park by nan's house to take some pictures.





They mostly turned out overexposed (cue Debbie Downer wah-wah horns) but I'm hoping a little photoshop magic will help me out of that quandry.

Aaaaanywang. Dinner was plentiful and, as always, delish.



I'm pretty sure no one can make stuffing as good as my nan (thus why 1/3 of the plate is made up of stuffing alone). The turkey was perfect and juicy, the green beans squeaky and fresh, the potatoes lumpy and soaked in gravy. I think I died and went to heaven!! (LoTMiTf #3: I did not actually die and go to heaven. It was a figurative death. Which is good because I'm not ready to go and who would take of my cats??!)

Alas, I don't have a picture of the best part: my nan's blueberry pie! When I was little this was the only thing I used to ask her for for Christmas. I put that in italics because that's how much my nan's blueberry pie meant/means to me. If paradise, love, Jesus, and every adorable and amazing thing in the world had a taste, it would taste like my nan's blueberry pie. I'm not even joking.

... and guess who was sent home WITH THE LAST SLICE OF BLUEBERRY PIE??! (LoTMiTf #4: Blueberry pie, the gift that keeps on giving.)

It was also great to spend some quality time with the family!*

*Quality time = a nap on the couch while my 85 year old grandmother cooked me dinner. Fuuuuuuck.
(LoTMiTf #5: My nan is the nicest nan in the world!!! ...And she has the comfiest couch!!!)

Actually, I noticed my nan had redecorated a little since I'd been over to her place last. She has a new TV hutch and a new TV (this is actually sorta monumental because she's had the same ancient TV set for the last, oh, 87 years? It was the one that is its own TV hutch - basically a giant, woodpanneled box o' entertainment. She also needed approximately 64 converters to use this particular TV, none of which ever fully worked so she ended up having to get up and down all evening to change channels, up the volume, and search for the next episode of Cold Case on the satellite). As I was commenting on the change to my dad, he gave me the "Not so loud! Your grandmother might hear you!" look and dragged me into the spare room. I was confused so I thought maybe she redecorated in there too and something had gone awry? Everything looked the same though....... except for another new TV set, a giant flat panel set up that took up half the room (!!). I was obviously confused, so my dad explained: apparently my nan went to her local Canadian Tire, bought the fancy flat panel TV, got it home, and realized that unlike her old set, this new one would require a TV stand (they just don't make things like they used to). She had to then go back to the Canadian Tire and pick out a pretty hutch to hold said TV. Once home, though, she realized that the TV she picked out was too giant for the pretty hutch so she had to go back to Canadian Tire again and pick out a smaller TV. Now she has a new hutch and 3 TVs and apparently everyone in the family is not to acknowledge this fact under any circumstances.

I, however, don't live by the rules so of course I ask my grandmother about the sudden TV influx.

Me: Nan, you sure do have a lot of TVs now! You're a baller!

Nan: ... What's a baller?

Me: It's like... a basketballer. Someone who plays basketball.

Nan: Oh?

Me: It means you're living large!!

Nan: Well, I guess so?

Me: ...So if you need to get rid of that big flat panel in the spare room let me know because I could definitely use a new TV.

Melissa: Best Grandkid Ever?



(LoTMiTf #6: Seriously, I really do have a great family, surplus TVs aside. I am thankful that they are in my life and that they let me call them ballers and just go with it instead of openly asking what the fuck I am talking about. I'm also thankful they let me nap after The Drive From Hell and that they feed me and teach me how to knit and love me for being me. I really am one lucky kid!)

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!!

Monday, October 06, 2008

Black Monday

Dear My Boyfriend Michael Cera,

I think we can both agree that we have had our fair share of ups and downs throughout our time together: the time I asked you that question about music that made you feel awkward, the time we made eye contact while you were in your SUV... so many precious memories, so many emotions. I thought we had seen it all and I was ready to look towards the future with you and plan our awesome life together in our palatial mansion in LA with our twins, Micaela and Melvin, our butler, Lloyd, and our limo driver, Pepe. We were going to listen to all of your indie bands from Montreal and talk about Canadian things like poutine and Nunavut and dance around the house in our socks to emotional songs you wrote with your buddies. I was going to buy you hoodies and you were going to buy me books. It was going to be just like heaven, with you as the really awkward sans facial hair Jesus and me as the chick who bangs the really awkward sans facial hair Jesus.

But then this weekend it all changed....

You let a movie about chihuahuas in Beverly Hills beat you at the box office??! A movie with the tagline "The Chihuahuas Will Rise"??!

Good God, My Boyfriend Michael Cera... I thought I knew you.

Crushed (literally, not in the figurative cougar-y way anymore),
Melissa

PS Is Jonah Hill single? Can you put in a good word?