EVERYONELOVESMELISSA - it's funny in here!

TIFF 2009: Jennifer's Body Premiere

2009-09-12T16:24:00.006-04:00

Oh yes, my friends! It's that time of year again - the air is getting crisper, the nights come earlier, and My Boyfriend Michael Cera is in town for a film premiere... Suddenly, everything in the world seems right!

I had the pleasure of attending the world premiere of Jennifer's Body on Thursday night, kicking of the Toronto International Film Festival's series of Midnight Madness films. Whooo boy. It was a good time!

The movie itself was a pleasant surprise - I had my doubts because of early bad reviews and the seemingly sudden genre-change for Diablo Cody. All was quickly proved wrong by the excellent casting, the tongue-in-cheek sarcastic script, and excellent acting by Megan Fox, Amanda Seyfried, Adam Brody, and Johnny Simmons. Honestly? It was great and SUCH a good time. The audience totally got it, laughed a lot, and were genuinely scared at certain parts.

...And I haven't even mentioned how stunningly beautiful & fiercely talented Megan Fox is in this movie. I found myself anxious for her to come back on screen and wanting more. She was truly great (and ridiculously beautiful).

Aside from the movie, it was great to see such an ecclectic crowd out for a movies - from geeks to film buffs to industry insiders (my cousin and I were sitting beside the owner of one of the hottest hotels & clubs in Toronto - talk about a lucky coincidence!). The line up was long, the red carpet fans rabid, and the 2AM Q&A post-movie HILARIOUS.

Check out the snaps & DEFINITELY check out the YouTube video of the Q&A. Diablo Cody has officially become my fucking hero. I currently am obsessed with trying to find a way to use "anatomical reality" in a sentence... sheer brilliance.

The line-up stretched around the block

Waiting for the red carpet celebrity march to begin.

Red Carpet press.

An artsy shot of Adam Brody - he was so short in person!

And Adam from behind.

I have to give him props - he came around and signed autographs and took pictures with fans, which is a first in my red carpet experience (damn you Michael Cera! and there were half the fans at your premiere last year!).

Q&A

Q&A

Q&A

And the YouTube vid of the Q&A - totally worth the 9 minutes!!

Quickie

2009-09-01T22:41:00.003-04:00

What I have I been up to in this far-too-long-it's-uncomfortable hiatus?

Check it: www.melissajosephphotography.com.

I'm working on getting the new site up and back-posting some photos, as well as actually taking said photos, photoshopping said photos, saving up money for fancy photo equipment and, um, a big upcoming trip (miiiiight be going to LA in October. Damn you Jason Mraz and your incredibly generous offers of gratitude to SuperFans!!), and other life stuff. (I totally ordered business cards today. What has two thumbs and feels official? THIS GIRL.)

So, you know, sorta busy? Still, no excuse. And it's not for lack of funny things that have happened to me. INCLUDING adorable My Ex-Boyfriend Michael Cera updates!!

I'm feeling like things are getting sorted out nicely and that I'll have more time for posting both over there (www.melissajosephphotography.com, just in case you forgot the address... cough) and over here.

Good times, blog-friends. Good times.

Yours in Michael Cera,
Melissa

Dear Melissa: You Suck at Blogging. Love Always, Me

2009-04-28T19:13:00.002-04:00

Not posting a new blog in over two months makes me sad for many reasons:

1. The last post on here was of that dude that called me fat. Whoa negative vibes!

2. Because Rosie O'Donnell told me I'd be a comedy writer, dammit, so why the fuck am I not comedy writing??!

3. The very reasons I lost interest in both comedy and writing.

To expand on number 3, I should fill you in on my life since I got back from California: getting layed off, being depressed about getting layed off, not having a job, looking for a job, still looking for a job, trying not to die. Repeat for 4 months.

Frankly, I haven't felt funny in a long time. My focus completely shifted from "I have a lovely day job where I have the freedom (and recreational internet) to pursue my true goals and objectives" to "Find a job RIGHT NOW so that you don't die and have to give up your apartment, furniture, and life in Toronto to live on a day bed in your parent's RV".

Exactly. I don't think anyone could be funny with that kind of hurricane blowing through Lifeville.

Not that things are much better now, really. The only difference being I am starting to see a light at the end of the tunnel and I think I'm quite close to narrowing in on what I want to do for the foreseeable future and in so doing avoiding the day bed and the life-giving-upping.

Of course, moving to LA is not out of the picture; it's just delayed slightly. I'm pushing the move date back by a year so that I can get myself organized (read: debt payed down). To that end, I've placed an embargo on travelling this year, so you can expect my handy and oft-used "oh the places i go" label to be more or less retired for a while. Thankfully the embargo does not include roadtrips (I'm going, in fact, to Illinois this weekend!) so I'll trot it out for those special occasions.

Another reason I haven't been around as much is because something (or someone) else has monopolized my attention: I have a new/old boyfriend! He's been dying for me to mention him here (even though he no longer creeps my blog and probably won't realize I've said anything about him for weeks), so here goes: Nick Jones has stolen my heart and even though he was supposed to call me like 2 hours ago, I love him enough to mention him on my blog for all my readers (if I have any left...) to read about.

Coincidentally, my other Boyfriend has been in town filming his new movie. I may have run into the film set one or three times. Totally coincidentally.

Totally.

Anways, blog-friends. Hopefully this upswing means I'll be back to stay for a while. And hopefully it means you'll be back too.

Happy spring!

Love,
Melissa

PS If you see my boyfriend (either one) tell him to fucking call me already!!

March Malltercations

2009-03-08T11:08:00.003-04:00

There is an overwhelming abundance of assholes in this city right now. Is it the sudden change in temperature? The failing economy? The daylight savings adjustment? I don't know, but I am one unsettling incident away from standing on a street corner with one of those giant "FREE HUGS" signs to try to cheer Toronto up. Yeesh. See below for a recount of one of the meanest, more horrible things to happen to me at the hands of a stranger. Note to my readers: don't get in the way of some average middle-aged man at 7pm on a Saturday night because he's got places to go, dude. Places to go!

Read on......................................................

so. i went to see the watchmen tonight with a friend (mmmm billy crudup wang) at the busy theatre in the mall by my house. i enter the building and cut through the bookstore and go upstairs to get to the theatre entrance. as i reach the top of the stairs, i swung my arm back (as one naturally does when walking or climbing stairs) and gently knocked someone behind me that was clearly right on my tail. he said "excuse me", which i took to mean "sorry for being on your tail old chum", and we kept going.

i rounded the corner was just before the doorway into the mall when i feel hands grab my shoulders and push me out of the way - not so violently that i fell into anything or was knocked over, but forcefully enough that it was obvious that it was an angry shove. i look over and the dude from the stairway is blowing past me and shoots me a look of anger. "fuck him," thought i, cause who the fuck puts their hands on me and shoves me??! so i say to him "what the hell buddy??!" as he's walking away and he whips back around at me and i shit you not yells this in front of the HUGE crowd of people milling in front of the theatre:

"well get out of the way you fat ass! your ass is so fat no one can get around you! i said excuse me and you didn't move. you're so fat! fat ass!"

no. no. not joking. he actually said that.

he was so angry and yelling so loudly that i decided to pull out my "hey, look at you crazy!" line that throws people off guard - so as he was screaming at me and calling me fat ass all i said back to him super condescendingly was "you know what? have a fabulous day. no seriously, have a fabulous day. really. fabulous. have a fabulous day."

in melissa speak, it means "wow, you sure are bat shit crazy. do you see how crazy you are? you physically put your hands on me and are now calling me fat in front of hundreds of people so that you can get to where you are going 10 seconds faster. really, think about that - 10 motherfucking seconds. you are NUTS."

the first time i said it he just sort of looked at me, shocked at my reaction. i think it must have made him angrier because it was about that time that he starting going off on exactly how fat my ass is.

the things that bother me most about the story is as follows:

1. that there are people that angry that exist in the world

2. that a man physically put his hands on me, a stranger and a woman

3. that he resorted to calling me fat etc. first thing, instead of myriad other reactions he could have had... it's a true sign of a man's douch-y-ness and intelligence that he resorts to calling a woman fat straight out of the gate. it's a low blow (no woman ever wants to hear the dreaded "f" word) and an obvious sign of a bully losing control. ugh.

4. that it's a saturday night - where the fuck is he in such a rush to get to that he needs to touch me and then verbally berate me in front of a crowd? crazy busy rush hour on the subway? i mean, i could have at least understood a little - but it's the fucking weekend, dude!

it also bothered me that he said it in front of a huge crowd of people, so obviously i was embarassed. blergggg.

Whatever, though. To paraphrase from a Sex and the City: I don't really care that much because I get to go on being me ie awesome, and that dude is stuck being him ie abusive and angry. I definitely win in this situation, no?

In other news: the medium popcorn I subsequently enjoyed at the theatre tasted extra delicious, in case you're wondering.

:)

A Ball Joint, Two Tie Rods, and an Axel Shaft

2009-02-25T23:17:00.003-05:00

Question: Why does everything that is currently wrong with my car sound dirty?

Answer: Because life is mocking me.

So I was noticing over the past month or so that it was starting to get awful hard to turn corners in my car and that even when I was driving straight the car kept drifting to the left. Sensing an expensive alignment issue, I of course ignored the problem and kept on driving. And driving. And driving. To Sudbury and back one weekend. To Schenectady and back another. Up and down the city. Always in the car, always going.

Things came to a head on Monday when after beginning my journey home from a job interview I noticed that I could barely turn the wheel and it wasn't springing back afterwards like it normally would. Thinking that the expensive alignment issue had turned into an expensive power steering issue, I decided that the best thing to do was to get my car safely home and in my parking spot in the backyard and worry about the problem later. Naturally.

So of course I figured I was home-free as I pulled into my driveway and started to make the run up the hill leading between the houses and then into the backyard, but just as I pull of the street I hear a loud crash and my car can't move forward anymore. I stop, get out, inspect the car but don't see anything wrong - I haven't hit the curb, nothing looks off physically about the car - and so I re-enter and try to start up the driveway again. As soon as I hit the gas, I hear another loud bang and feel my car shift slightly to the left side. This time when I get out to inspect the situation, I see my car sitting on top of my front driver's side wheel.

On top. Of. The front driver's side. Wheel.

Je?Sus.

I also see metal, presumably the part that holds the wheel in place, lying on the ground underneath my car. I also see millions of tiny green dollar signs floating around my car as I silently take in the scene.

I immediately call CAA and set to waiting for four excruciating hours for them to send first a mechanic who doesn't even look at my car before proclaiming that I need a tow truck (I'm not sure what part of "my wheel feel off my car" didn't scream send a tow truck to the operator I spoke with first, because apparently she thought it was a mechanical thing?) and then eventually a tow truck to try to extract my tire-less car.

Two days and $800 later, my car is back home and wheel-ful. I'm pretty pissed that it happened at all (nothing like life giving you a swift kick to the groin when you're down, right?) but also super thankful where and when it did: if it had been either of the two weekends before it could have fallen off while I was driving on the highway or in the middle of nowhere and if it had happened 3 feet either to the back or the front of where it ultimately came off I could have either been in the middle of the busy street blocking rush hour traffic or in the middle of my driveway wedged between two houses with no way to get out of my car (and with no way to extracate it from between the houses, either!).

So let's just say that if my wheel had to fall off my car, I couldn't have picked a more perfect place for it to happen.

Plus, now I get to legitimately say that I am a ball breaker. No big deal. A BALL BREAKER.

(Thanks to Jay for pointing that out..... !!!!)

To Schenectady, With Love

2009-02-12T14:11:00.003-05:00

I don't know about you, but to me nothing says "romance" like Schenectady.

Just say it out loud: Schenectady. Schenectady. Schenectady!

Right??!

Well, befitting then that I'll be spending Valentine's in none other than the city amongst the pines! And even better is that I'm going to cap off the love with an intimate Jason Mraz concert in the chapel at Union College.

Right!

By the way, when you ask people where Schenectady is, the answer you'll most often get is "near Albany". Since I have no clue where Albany is either, this information was not very helpful. I've since learned, however, that Schenectady is in the Hudson River valley about 3 hours outside of New York City. All this means to me is that I'm bound to find at least one Target on my 6-hour drive south.

I'll keep you posted.

Happy Commercial Holiday Debasing Love, friends!

Breaking Up Is Hard To Do

2009-02-10T10:24:00.002-05:00

Dear My Ex-Boyfriend Michael Cera,

How am I supposed to get over our break up when you keep doing things like this?

Really? I mean, it's so topical, so adorable, so full of plaid housecoat-y goodness. You promised you would lay low! You promised you'd stay out of the gossip rags! For me, My Ex-Boyfriend Michael Cera. For me!

Fuck you. I want you back.
Melissa

Melissa's Fake Dialogues with Celebrities: Brad Pitt & Angelina Jolie

2009-01-30T11:00:00.000-05:00

Those of you who know me in real life know that I have a super creepy wealth of celebrity knowledge. The same mechanism in my brain that allows me to kick my Nan's ass at Jeopardy by remembering really random facts about really random things has also allowed me to retain a catalogue of the minutiae of celebrity gossip from the past 10 years or so.

Also, if you've seen the storage space under the stairs in my apartment you know it's filled with back issues of People Magazine and US Weekly dating back to 2003 that I re-read periodically for fun. So, there's also that. (I call it the National Geographic collection for stupid, vain people: just as many exposed boobs, -50% of the educational value!)

So in an effort to put all that knowledge and history to good use and also for a laugh, I've come up with a little weekly pop culture post I've so aptly titled "Melissa's Fake Dialogues with Celebrities" wherein I'll be imagining what a conversation between myself and a given celebrity would probably be like. Exciting, right?

Naturally, in my many years of gossip-following, I've read more about Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie than I have about any other celebrity couple. I get it - not only are they the world's most beautiful people, but they keep popping out the world's most beautiful babies in exotic locales around the world. They are also, like, super philanthropic and shit and in some pretty good movies too. Mostly, I think of them in my lowest moments and say "What the fuck, God?", cause you know some people just have all the luck and it's not fair.

Thusly, here's what I imagine a dialogue between Hollywood's hottest couple and yours truly would be like. Enjoy.

Melissa: Hello! Hello Brad, hello Angelina!
Angelina Jolie: Please, call me Angie.
M: (Dies.) Alright, Angie. So you both have had an incredible year what with your double Oscar nominations and double bundles of joy! Have you picked out your dress yet, Angie?
A: We've been so busy with Brad's promotion schedule and the kids that I really haven't had the chance to think that far ahead yet. I'm sure I'll have something picked out in the coming weeks, though.
Brad Pitt: What I love about Angie is that she has such an eye for the exact thing that looks good on her. She can look at a dozen dresses and within 5 minutes have something absolutely perfect selected.
M: I've noticed that you've been coordinating your outfits lately. Any plans to do that on Oscar night, as well?
B: It's funny, we were looking at pictures from the SAG awards the other day and realized that we unintentionally wore matching outfits. We don't plan it that way, we swear!
M: Do you guys even wear matching underwear? Cause I could totally picture you Brad in some, like, super tight bulge-hugging boxer briefs that...
B: (Interrupting.) Excuse me?
M: Sorry. Sorry! Um, moving on. Both of you have done a lot of philanthropic work around the world. Angie you even went to Iraq recently. What was that experience like?
A: Is your hand on Brad's knee?
M: (Pauses.) No? (Removes hand from Brad's knee.)
A: (Clears her throat.) Well. (Stern glare.) Iraq was a really eye-opening experience for me. The people there are so loving and joyful, despite these terribly destitute conditions that they are subject to. I only wish that - what are you doing?
B: (To Angie.) I think... I think she's doing lunges? (To Melissa.) Are you doing lunges?
M: (Lunging.) Yes?
A: (Confused.) What... what for?
M: (Lunging.) It... helps me loosen up? I'm... I'm just really nervous.
B: Well could you stop please, it's making me uncomfortable.
M: Oh. Well, sure. (Stops lunging.) Soooooooooooooooo. Did you guys know I was on a plane with Michael Cera from LA to Toronto once? I took his picture while he was filling out his customs forms and he was super pissed...
B: That's really intrusive, you know! I think we're just about done here.
M: Oh yeah, that's right! You once had a paparazzo take a shot of your wang while you were out naked on your deck or something, right? I saw those! I mean, all things told... not bad, my friend, not bad! (Nudges Angelina conspiratorially.) Right? Am I right?
A: (Getting up.) We're leaving. Brad?
B: You're a psycho. We're out. (They exit quickly.)
M: But wait! I didn't get to ask you if you guys will adopt me yet! Guys? Angie? Brad? ... Oh.

Something like that. I have a feeling it that most of the awkwardness that would be there in person doesn't really translate to the page, though.

Tune in next week when I fake sit down with another celebrity and have a fake dialogue with them about fake stuff.

Fake!

Improv, Scientology, And My New Favourite Celebrity

2009-01-24T19:02:00.010-05:00

Monday brings us to the final chapter of my adventure in California - it was goodbye to my friends and off to LA for a solo couple of days in the city that's stolen my heart.

After a delicious and nutricious (cough) lunch at In-N-Out, I was on the road. I got off to a later start so I didn't get into the city until nearly dinnertime, putting me majorly behind schedule. I had planned to visit the Hollywood sign and hit up Robertson Boulevard (ie the place where all the paparazzi live) this trip since I didn't see either the last time but by the time I got in and dropped my stuff off at my cousin's, it was nearly dark and time for dinner, so it was off to Pink Taco for the little piece of heaven called crispy mini beef tacos. (There are so many vagina jokes to be made in that sentence...)

After tacos, I headed east across Franklin Avenue to the Upright Citizens Brigade theatre. Some of you might remember me mentioning the UCB back in the halcyon Michael Cera days when he hosted a live theatre version of the show during the writer's strike at the UCB theatre in NYC. I've always been down with the UCB because my very favourite nerd used to improv there, and it lists Amy Poehler, David Cross, and Jack McBrayer as alumni (fun fact! Amy Poehler actually co-founded the UCB!). I had no clue they had a West Coast branch until the guy who runs my improv school (Impatient Theatre Company what?) told me to check it out. And boy, was that a good idea.

I rolled up to the theatre about 5 minutes before the 9pm show and there is a throng of people mulling about outside. I quickly ascertained that Monday is the busiest night at the UCB and if you don't have a reservation, you probably won't get in... which is exactly what happened to me. I was able to confirm a spot at the 11pm show though, jet lag be damned.

The area that the theatre is in is ecclectic - beautiful old apartment buildings built into the hills, trendy restaurants, and yet lots of sketchy people who skulk about. The biggest eye-catcher, though, was this:

It spans about half a city block and is by far the biggest, strangest building of its kind that I've ever seen. It was clear to me, as I stood watching it from across the street, that it was not a business, not a hotel, not a house: it was a weird blend between the three. Simply put, it stands out - and not just because of the giant sign affixed to the roof reading "Scientology Celebrity Centre".

Oh, yes. You read that right. It was the Scientology Celebrity Centre. As soon as I read that, it alllll made sense.

Apparently the building used to be called the Chateau Elysee and was a popular hotel/celebrity hang out back in the 20s and 30s. As for what they do there now? It sounds like they try to convert people and hold lavish parties where you may or may not see Travoltas or Cruises. Check out this interesting article by the New Yorker - it's fairly long, but it runs down all the basic stuff about Scientology, its presense in LA, and the history of the castle. A very interesting read.

Also interesting was that there was security up the wazoo patrolling it. I was a little afraid to take pictures but surprisingly I was given no trouble. Although, my name is probably on some super-secret list somewhere and my phone tapped... Maybe they'll start monitoring my blog and up my readership? 'Cause I would be down with that, just saying.

(Also interesting is that this same security force shot and killed a man last November outside of the the Chateau. At first, I was all, "WTF Scientology!", but then I found out that dude was weilding double machetes and was trying to kill them first. So, I mean, I get it.)

Moving on from my creepy Scientology discovery, the show at the UCB was great. I saw my first and only celebrity at the show. I mean, he's no James Van Der Beek, but I recognized him right away and got super excited: Paul Scheer!

(For those not as obsessed as me, he's the one on the right beside Jack McBrayer).

Paul Scheer played Donny Lawson opposite Jack McBrayer's Kenneth Parcell on 30 Rock. So technically I was, like, one degree away from Tina Fey!

But wait - there's more. I was also technically one degree away from My Ex-Boyfriend Michael Cera! Paul is starring alonside My Ex-Boyfriend Michael Cera in a movie called Year One that comes out in June. Dude, this is getting a little too coincidental, right?

Alsoooo... In perusing the performers section of the UCB-LA website, I see that My Ex-Boyfriend Michael Cera's current real-life (and, I assume, non-airplane stalker) girlfriend performs there. All I have to say is thank God she wasn't there that night because I'm pretty sure she'd recognize me as the creepy picture-taker that ruined Her Real-Life Boyfriend Michael Cera's trip home. Um? Phew.

So the show as great - it was more multi-media/stand-up than improv, but it was good to see nonetheless. Also, there were a lot of innapropriate dirty pictures, which always make me laugh (think old dude threeway. Not joking!).

I also learned something very important at this show - everyone in Hollywood is either famous or works for someone famous. As I was standing in line before the show, this group of people about my age were chatting about the improv classes they were taking at the UCB and apparently one girl was Adam McKay's (another UCB alum, heavy hitter in the comedy world, and married to Jeremy Piven's sister) yoga teacher (extra interesting because she mentioned she was Canadian and working there illegally!) and another guy worked for Steven Spielberg. For really! I intend to try and prove this theory as soon as possible and will, of course, keep you posted.

Now on to Tuesday! I spent the day in Culver City, trying desperately to get a bit of a tan outside the Bonnie Hunt Show studio while waiting for my taping to begin. This was my second (and third, since I went to two tapings in one day this time around) time seeing the show and I have to say, it cemented her as my new favourite celebrity. She is honestly one of the nicest and least affected people I've ever met - and to be able to say that about someone who has lived and worked in Hollywood is one of the most remarkable occurances in the world, I think. She was so genuinely interested in what people had to say and really very caring and outgoing. Not to mention that she's fucking hilarious - her off the cuff comments to guests (both on and off the air) had me in stitches the entire day.

Also interesting was that I got to chat with her briefly and mention the "no-end job" story to her: apparently one of her staff members also gets hilarious half-insulting messages from her mom (about her haircut and how it's not as cute as the haircuts the celebrity guests on the show have). I was super nervous (it's so weird - the first time I met her I was pretty chill, but this time I started shaking a little - not Michael Cera-level or anything - and got a little tongue tied. I guess I get randomly affected by certain celebrities in certain moments? Or perhaps my airport incident has taken the wind out of my sails a little?) so it didn't come out totally right, but she got the gist and laughed a little. More than that though, she just seems so genuinely interested in what everyone has to say. She chatted with this guy about doggy dandruff for like 10 minutes!

If you don't watch her show, you should. Trust me.

After my TV-filled afternoon, I decided to go to In-N-Out for my last California meal and then drive through the hills for the rest of the evening. Now, in theory I thought this was a great idea - drive around, relax, get a feel for the city, and take in the beautiful lights from up above. In practice? It was absolutely fucking terrifying. I was driving up hills that were so steep they were practically vertical. At night. By myself. Without a GPS or a map.

I'm not going to lie, there may have been a little poop dans le pants at certain points.

In the end though, it was pretty worth it. I took Laurel Canyon all the way across the mountains and into the Valley. I know a lot of people complain about the Valley, but I didn't think it was that bad. It felt like Burlington or Mississauga: not quite at the centre of things, but close enough and easy to get around in. I cut back the same way and then drove both East and West through Mulholland drive and caught some of the nicest views of the city and of the Hollywood sign. Unfortunately they don't light up the sign at night (why???) and they don't let you stop to take pictures (damn you park ranger and your stupid flashy flashlight!) so I don't have much to offer in the way of stunning photographic evidence, but here's an idea of what it looked like:

All in all, it was another lovely trip to a lovely city. I know most of the world hates LA, but if you loathe with your entire being the cold and snow like I do, you would understand why I love it. In fact, you could throw me in a ghetto in Calcutta and I would probably love it more than living in Toronto in the winter (minus the infectious diseases but plus all the naan I can eat!).

Which brings me to my big announcement: I am going to move to LA next January. That gives me a year to get my poop in a group (poup in a group? poop in a groop?), save up some cash, find a job (if possible) and a place to live and pack up the kitties and go. I figured January is a perfect time because I'll be here for Christmas and yet will miss most of the winter's worst. I keep saying things like "hopefully" and "probably" and "aiming for" but I keep correcting myself to refer to this in the definitive or else I think I'll chicken out and not go. It's actually a pretty scary move for me, even though I want it so badly. Damn Canada for not having some sort of better job-share arrangement with the US so I could just move there in a flash and not have to worry about being an illegal alien. But anyways, there it is. Out in the blogosphere for all the world to read and hold me to.

So please, hold me to it okay? Also, find me a way to work there legally while you're at it. Thanks.

It's Like Licking a King Kong Dong

2009-01-20T10:51:00.007-05:00

I was up at the asscrack of dawn on Sunday, still suffering badly from jetlag and lured outside by the call of the waves again. I took a morning stroll on the beach and got to see the sun rise from the other side.

Sunday is always when it hits me: this long weekend of fun is only a weekend and it's almost over. Thusly, I try to cram in as much beeetch and beach time as I can in a semi-successful attempt to slow down time.

The day started off with our post-LRC family breakfast. This year instead of cooking at home we went to the Hill Street Cafe. The word on the street was, and I quote, "The food is good, but the service horribly slow". When we got there and our laid-back California dude waiter had this conversation with Cat, I knew those assessments were startingly accurate:

Cat: We need a table for 12, please.
Dude: Sure thing! I'll go set one up!
He takes off upstairs and we chat amongst ourselves for 20 minutes.
Dude: (back) So I've got a table of 12 for you guys upstairs! But with 15 of you, it'll be tight...
Cat: (pauses) ...But we're 12.
Dude: (pauses) ... Oh yeah. Well come on up then!

It was an epic 2-hour meal, made worth it by my delicious garlic toast and Scott's creative sausage eating abilities. (I'm sensing a theme to this post?)

After Hill Street we hit the beach, hard. I soaked up some rays for an hour or so and then we got to work on burying Scott and Brian in the sand. We drew upon our personal experiences (??!) and crafted some creative anatomy for both. Nothing says "long weekend on the beach!" like big fake sand jugs and rotund coke can hogs, right?

A few of us even braved the water again this year. Don't get me wrong, it stings it's so cold at first - but your body has a weird way of getting used to it so eventually you just go comfortably numb. It's kinda nice. I boogied boarded (without as much success this year as last) and ate it in a couple of big waves (I think I'm still coughing up salt water?). Even though all the Californians on the beach thought we were nuts, it was totally worth it - after all, the water temperature is still warmer than the air outside back in Toronto.

After swimming and getting ready, we did a mad clean up of the house and got ready for family photos on the beach. The sunset on Sunday was the best of the weekend - the kind that is so red and pink and orange that you almost want to spread some sugar on it and save half of it for breakfast the next morning.

The photos turned out great - I'm glad I have a group of friends that likes to be photographed as much as I like to take photographs. Also, they are very open to me calling out orders at them, such as "Go TOWARDS the wave!" and "Okay, pretend you are in High School Musical!" All in all, it works.

Billy came over for some more family photos (and was very impressed at how different ie clean and orderly the house looked...) and then it was off to Mueller for his show. We all rocked the mats along the wall this year, which was kinda nice for a change. Mostly because we a. were all together and b. not sitting at the back because Johnny holds the first 179303 rows for his pals.

Billy was in fine form as usual, making us laugh with random jokes and his love for king kong dongs (you might as well not ask 'cause even if you did, I doubt you'd be able to get an answer...). We finally got to hear Dawn Mitschele live - it was a treat for all (but especially for Scott). I'm also loving Billy's new songs - particularly the one about William Blake. He says it's hard for him to sing because he has to be vulnerable, which is why I think I like it so much - 'cause it comes from the heart. It also references the shitty economy and any song that can do that and still make me smile is tops in my books.

a

After the show we hugged Billy and band goodbye (and word on the street is that Scott got a special hug from a special lady who, if she ever goes through Missoula, is to look him up post haste so he can hook her up with some peeps) and we were back to the beach. I wish I could tell you more about the post-show party, but I fell asleep like the grandma I am.

All in all, it was the loveliest of lovely Sundays. If only all my days were like that - sandy, sweet, and sleepful (still jet-lagged!).

I'm in LA now and will recap my day yesterday later this evening (hint: it involved In-N-Out and Scientology!). I also saw my first celebrity and have several more observations to make about LA.

Alright, I'm off to The Griddle and then a taping of the Bonnie Hunt show. Send me good "free audience gift" vibes!

Jet Lag, Sunsets, and Living Rooms

2009-01-18T13:07:00.009-05:00

I. Am. So. JETLAGGED. Yeesh. I am going to try to be as coherent as I can be, but I make no promises about grammar, spelling, or sensicality (or making up words).

I was up at 6am yesterday, my body working on East Coast time and my mind racing with all the possibilities that lay ahead. I tried to get back to sleep, but finally the call of the ocean got me out of bed and out enjoying a cup of jasmine tea on the patio. A shower and a car ride later and we're at a local coffee house enjoying their myriad herbal tea choices and mate lattes. It was a colourful place - very Californian: dude with dreads serving us our hot beverages, local art hanging on the walls, laid back folks chit chatting and enjoying the company, food, and music. The best part was the group of eccentric locals outside enjoying a hula hoop party. What a weird bunch.........

Back from brunch, it was off to get groceries for the night's festivities and then lay out on the beach. I tried to nap off my jet lag but the water sports and guitar playing and frisbee taking kept be awake. Actually, that's a lie. The constant calls for "Melissa! Get out your camera and take a picture of me doing this!" kept me awake. I'm lucky that I have such a good group of photogenic (and jumpy?) friends, huh?

That would be Scott taking not one but two major wipe outs while trying to boogie board

Improvised bongos

All in all, it was an afternoon well-spent. I tanned a little (sort of a miracle for this pasty Canadian) and got in some quality sing-a-long time with friends. There was also some sort of a pirate ship situation going on at sea? I don't really know what that was about but it was fun to be a part of nonetheless.

After tanning and pirate ship-ing, it was time to get ready for our Living Room Concert (LRC). For those who don't know, our group of friends gathers together yearly in San Diego for an in-home concert featuring local musican/accoustic rhymer/all around cool guy Billy "Bushwalla" Galewood. Basically, he comes over to our beach house with his band (ie group of his friends) and plays an intimate show for us in our living room.

Yeah, I know. Pretty awesome.

This year's show was definitely the quirkiest - a cover of the Big Bopper's Chantilly Lace, an impromptu Jackson 5 sing-a-long, and an angry giraffe all made appearances. There was also some web cam dancing, some Conor-take-your-shirt-off-ing, and some spaghetti (speghetti, if you spell like Kristie)-humping. We got to hear a few of Billy's new songs and J did a 4-song interlude, which left the group both thankful and a little teary. I think we all really appreciate the fact that he shows up at all, so when he is gracious enough to play for us as well I know it leaves us all a little overwhelmed.

I think the overall reaction to this year's show was a mix of relief (things got too big last year and sort of lost the intimate feel) and feel-goodiness (jet lag!). It was nice to take things back to the style of our first year's LRC, though I can definitely say that we can never re-capture the innocence and authenticity of that experience again. That was the first time I met many of the people I now consider to be my close friends, it was my first trip to California, and my first time seeing Billy live. We had no clue what to expect and we were blown away by the whole thing. Now that we're old hat at this, we settle into our routines and know where to look to make things happen. It's nice, just not as thrilling-at-every-turn like it was before.

The only bummer about the whole night (and weekend) is that a few of our group are missing. I was happy we could web cam them in last night (and frankly, they got a LOT more love that way!), but I know we all wish that they were here with us. I think next year we'll all be back together again.

So that's our Saturday in a nutshell. We've got the Mueller College show tonight and then we all go off our seperate ways tomorrow. I'm off to LA to spend a couple of days at Sunset and Fairfax eating giant pancakes and then it's back to reality (it's going to be oh so very, very real!) for me.

California Part 1: How to Pack for a 40 Degree Temperature Difference

2009-01-16T21:36:00.005-05:00

This morning, Toronto:
It was minus -30 with the windchill. I was up at 3.45am and at the airport by 5am - only to find that my flight to Chicago had been delayed and I would miss my connection to San Diego. Fuck.

This morning, Chicago:
It is still -30 with the windchill. But I got on the next flight to San Diego and even got upgraded to a seat with extra legroom and priority access boarding group. Also, I had bacon and corn bread muffins, so things are looking up.

This afternoon, San Diego:
Fuck, it's warm here!

So far, so good. We've hit Trader Joe's (my first visit! Verdit? I am in LOVE!), Jack in the Box (I must have my Oreo milkshake!), and the beach. Now we're relaxing inside our beach condo as the rest of our little family trickles in, enjoying some, um, herbal cigarettes and some cookies and some ocean sounds and some sneaking up on people while they are writing blogs and trying to scare them (not naming any names, Amy).

Not much more to report...... yet! Tomorrow is our infamous living room concert and we've got a day of beaching and laughing and keeping Melissa away from Target-ing.

I expect big things things. I expect big things!

A fun sign I spotted on the I-5 near our exit. Best euphamism ever?

Tabatha heading back in after a sunset swim

Barefeet! In January!

Amy, Kristie, and Sara in the first of many portraits that I am sure I'll take this weekend.

I call this one "Three Rocks On The Beach" because it's of three rocks on the beach.

Boogie Boarding! Will I be brave enough to go in tomorrow? Keep checking back to see!

Alright. Time to go stuff my face with cheese curds down by the ocean. Ahhh, I could get used to this!

The Mom Giveth

2009-01-11T23:10:00.003-05:00

Picture it: tonight, 10.45PM. I just return home from my improv show at the Savannah Room and see the message light on my phone blinking. "Fuck," I think to myself, "It's probably my mom. I told her 70 times that I had an improv show tonight, and yet she calls anyways!"

Annoyed, I check the message and, sure enough, it's her. Below is a transcript (verbatim) of what she said:

Hi, just me. Sitting here thinking about you as I'm watching Being Erica. She reminds me of you! She's got a Masters Degree and she's in a no-end job! What? What did you say Brian? Oh yeah, dead end job. Anyways. There are more similarities. Except that she's 32 and you're 27. Anyways. Hello Sofia! Hello Bella! [my cats] Love you! Byeeee!

I guess the old saying really is true: the mom giveth (she said I was young!), and the mom taketh away (you're doing nothing with your life!).

A Riddle

2009-01-08T20:24:00.004-05:00

What is:

-snow-free
-full of music
-jam-packed with friends from around the US
-ocean-y
-home to giant pancakes, random celebrity sightings, old men excersizing, Pink Taco, Britney's vadge
-one week away

If you guessed my brain, I give you half a point (because, unfortunately for all of us, my brain is always present. Always!).

If you guesse California, I give you a full point.

What do you get with your points, you ask? Nothing. Except, of course, the joy of being able to guess really obvious answers. You go, you!

So yes, I am going back to California next week, and I really can't wait (even though it feels like I was just there.. maybe it's 'cause I was?)! I head down to San Diego first for a weekend of music, friends, and beach (ie heaven). Me and my Jason Mraz friends all meet up every year on the Martin Luther King weekend (MLK) and throw a Bushwalla Living Room Concert (LRC) in our rented house on the beach (known as the MLK LRC... a creative bunch we are!). This will be the third anual trip and though we've switched up some of the details (I'd like to call it ironing out the kinks) and some of our friends can't make it, I think it'll be our best yet. Mooooostly because I'll have my camera and am going to take so many freaking pictures this year that I'm going to have a permanent camera-indent around my eye.

After San Diego, Rikki & I are going to head back to LA to hunker down in WeHo and visit some of our favourite haunts from last trip (The Griddle, Pink Taco) for a couple of days. Rikki is going to take me to The Hotel Cafe and I'm going to take her to the iOWest & The Bonnie Hunt Show. It's going to be like the last LA trip, but she won't leave mid-way through and it will be condensed into 2 fun-filled days. Oh, and hopefully Rikki will be my witness when I run into random famous folk on the street (I'm looking at you Mark Ruffalo!).

Anywaysssss. I just wanted to give you all advanced warning so you know to check the blog religiously next weekend/the following week. I promise I'll do a better job of updating daily instead of waiting 2 months to finally finish off describing my trip. This way you can be jealous AS IT HAPPENS. I know, I know. Amazing, right?

And as if that wasn't enough to look forward to, I've started crafting a post about the origin of the phrase "donkey kick". It's more excruciating than the Michael Cera post (though, sadly, 100% less adorable) and it's tried and tested funny so hopefully I'll have that finished and up soon enough.

So keep checking in, folks. There'll be lots going on!

xom.

Miracles & Coincidences, or How I Fell Out of Love with You, My Boyfriend Michael Cera

2009-01-05T13:03:00.002-05:00

Dear My Boyfriend Michael Cera,

Hey, how are you? I am fine.

So I figured it was about time to write to you and explain my version of events from that fateful day (November 8th, 2008. May We Remember Forever.) when we first and last met. It was a day of miracles, but also a day of confusion and heartache. It was a day of excitement, but also of standing awkwardly clutching your backpack straps while waiting to board the plane and having your picture taken against your will. Hopefully this note will clear the air and let us both move on to greener, more adorable pastures. I'm talking specifically about me here, because I don't know how you can find a fake girlfriend/superfan as adorable as I am. Just saying.

Anyways. So as I'm sure you know from reading my blog (I'm totally bookmarked on your MacBook, right?), I was out in LA for a week and a half, enjoying the sunshine, the random celebrity sightings, and the giant pancakes from The Griddle. It was a week straight out of my dreams and the entire time I kept thinking that the only thing that could have made it better was if I ran into you.

Well, my boyfriend Michael Cera, I guess the Big Guy in the sky must have heard my prayers and threw me a bone on my last day of vacation. I had checked in for my flight home and was relaxing at my gate pre-take off, trying to zen out and not let my anxiety overwhelm me before boarding (I'm a bad flyer - the type that thinks every normal sound is the plane losing an engine and every tilt is the plane doing a nose dive into the Andes, where my corpulence will surely mean that I'll be the first to go. Damn you paranoid personality and cheese!). I normally try to pop a couple of gravols so that I get sleepy and thus don't care so much about silly little things like dying in a horrible plane crash and getting devoured by a soccer team, but wouldn't you know that I had mistakenly packed my gravol in my checked luggage by accident? Of course.

As I was prepping myself to fly for the first time in a long time without my little orange-flavoured chewable friends, I was startled out of my cleansing breaths/calming thoughts routine by this teenage dude behind me asking his buddy, "Hey, isn't that the guy from that show that was on FOX? After The Simpsons?" At the mere mention of a potential celebrity in my midst, I instantly perked up and started eavesdropping hardcore. He carried on to say, "He was in that movie Superbad... you know?" Now, the cynic in me immediately thought, "There is absolutely no way that God would give me Michael Cera in an airport. This is just too big of a dream. It must be some tubby kid that he's mistaking for Jonah Hill." My inner cynic, however, was quickly quieted when his friend responded, "Yeah, the skinny one... What was that show called? Arrested... something. It's totally him right there!"

It was at this point that I completely gave up pretenting to sleep, yanked myself upright in my chair, and swivelled around to see if it could really be possible that my every dream in life was coming true... I spied the teenage dude behind me, looked beyond him to the left, to the right, straight in front and -

HOLY MOTHERFUCKING SHIT. It was you! My boyfriend Michael Cera!

I believe that this was the moment wherein I shit my pants. I mean, not literally, obviously, but like the figurative shit where for a second you think you actually might have lost control of your bowels but it turns out it was just your entire internal organ system jumping up and down and squealing like it was Britney's vagina finally realizing its long standing dream of being covered in underpants.

I mean, this was a thing of fantasy, a thing so incomprehensible that it can't actually happen in real life. (In fact, my boyfriend Michael Cera, I'm pretty sure I had actually daydreamed about this exact scenario before - we meet in an airport and kiss passionately at the gate before the plane takes off and we fly towards our destiny. ...Or did I just confuse that with the erotic novella I wrote a couple of years back called "Why Leonardo DiCaprio and I are Meant To Be"?) I mean, tell me, my boyfriend Michael Cera, what you would do if your every dream came true in one instantaneous insane twist of fate??!

(I'm going to guess: stand awkwardly and shift your gaze back and forth. Or shit your pants. Either one.)

Anyways. Even though I'm sorta ashamed to admit it, I started shaking a little in my excitement/nervousness/pure unbridled love for you. I sat awkwardly on the edge of my seat, unsure what to do next: scream? jump up and down? text someone? take out my camera and snap some pics? try to switch my seat to first class? puke? run to the bathroom to fix my awful mushroom cut into something adorable that will make you love me at first sight? run up to you and confess my love for you, my boyfriend Michael Cera? So many options, and so little coherent thought processes to guide them...

In the end, I went the texting and photographing route. I mean, either way I was going to go down in flames, so I figured I might as well do it with as many friends paying attention and with enough photographic evidence in tow to hopefully make it funny. Right? Am I right?

Here below is an example of some of the texts I sent that afternoon:

To: Rikki
OMG MICAEL CRA IN APRORT DYING DYING DYNG NOT LIE SROUS WHAT I DOOOO???!?!

To: Emmy
yes micahel cera si here siesouly... im dying my hand s shakng!! hes so cutttee.

To: Rikki
i cn't go up to him ill die. he looksso akwardd nd shy. i lov himmmm!!!

Here below is an example of some of the pictures I took of you sitting down, waiting to board:

Now, I promise you that I did my best to be stealth-like and snap away quietly. But tell me, with my shaking hands, my frantic texting, and the faint whimper of joy that was eminating straight from my heart, HOW IN HELL WAS I SUPPOSED TO BE NOT OBVIOUS??! So despite my best efforts, I think you were on to me:

Okay, I don't think. I know:

Dang, my boyfriend Michael Cera, you must have eyes in the back of your head or some sort of crazy-person-taking-pictures radar because you were clearly all over my shit.

In the moment, though, I have to say that I completely ignored all photographic evidence to the contrary and continued to snap and text away undeterred. And, I mean, all things considered I am sorta glad I did because check out these little gems:

Even you have to admit you look adorable in your t-shirt and jacket and backpack. It's very My Boyfriend Michael Cera: Airport Chic.

Since you were sitting in first class, you got to board first. And because my seat was towards the the front of the plane, I was the last to board and thus had to wait in the longgg line that snaked out of the plane into the on ramp. I hate waiting in lines, but was rewarded for my patience by the snail's pace at which it moved, giving me time enough to be stalled in front of your row and to have your seatmate (a stranger to us both), who was on the aisle, comment on how lovely she thought my purse was. No big deal. Did you hear that My Boyfriend Michael Cera? She liked my purse. No big deal.

And I'm not going to lie - it was thrilling to know that in that brief, two minute exchange about shopping in Toronto between she & I, you were definitely looking at me. It blew my airport-fantasy-addled stuck-in-adolescence mind. In the moment, I was thinking how fabulous I sounded and how interested you were in what I had to say about purses in the Yonge/Dundas area, and how smokin' my butt looked like in my new pants. In retrospect, however, I figure you were probably thinking something along the lines of, "Hmmm, not only is she crazy, but she likes talking about purses??! What an idiot! At least I know where she hangs out now and can avoid the Yonge/Dundas area like the plague. But at least her ass looks smokin' in those pants!" (Somethings are just always true, right?)

Fresh from the thrill of that little exchange, I settle into my seat to scope out my proximity to you, My Boyfriend Michael Cera. Happily (for me, probably not for you) I noted that I was only two rows behind you and that those flimsy first class curtains did not block my view! I also hatched a plan to use the first class bathroom before they velcroed the curtains together. (Note to Air Canada: you should really spring for better curtains. Just saying.)

Once we were at cruising altitude and the seatbelt light went off, I made my move: I checked up and down the aisle and as soon as the flight attendants looked busy I bolted from my seat and made a beeline for the first class bathroom, being sure to keep my pace brisk but also slow enough so you could really get a full picture of my new-panted caboose as I went by. I almost got caught by a flight attendant near the front who was busy reading her book (really? Jesus, I need a job where I can nosh on little packets of peanuts read my book in the downtime) but thankfully she was too into the new Dean Koontz to notice that I wasn't supposed to be there.

What happened inside the washroom can only be described as a frantic makeover/pep talk/ad hoc bath with the delicious smelling Fruits and Passions soaps that they have in first class. Ready to make my big debut, I exited only to find the following: you, My Boyfriend Michael Cera, fast asleep (verdict on you sleeping? All of the adorable, none of the rigid awkwardness!) and the curtains back to economy velcroed shut.

Shit. Making my stealthy escape was going to be harder than I thought...

So, I did what any self-respecting first class interloper would have done: bumrushed the aisle and bolted through the curtains before that flight attendant could put down her Dean Koontz and stop me. As I excited through with an accusative rip (velcro curtain pro: easy escape, velcro curtain con: loud escape), I heard a faint "tsk" coming from the jump seat up front, but the damage was done and there was Dean Koontz to be read so I was mercifully off the hook, though disappointed that for all my efforts you were fast (yet adorably) asleep and didn't even get a chance to smell my Pear & Linden aura.

The rest of the flight was passed in a dreamland that can only be described as "what new and novel ways can I contort my body so that I can see what you are watching on TV." (For those curious, it was Best in Show - it seems you, My Boyfriend Michael Cera, and I have a Christopher Guest appreciation in common - and the first 10 minutes of Hancock.) A dreamland, that is, until it was almost time to land and for you to fill out your customs forms. Then, things turned a little, um, awful.

You see, the five hour flight did nothing to calm my love for you, My Boyfriend Michael Cera. In fact, it only made me more excited and enthralled by the crazy twist of fate that brought us together on the same plane. So when you turned around and I was finally able to get a good shot of you, I went a little, um, crazy with the camera.

I don't think you liked it much that I was taking your picture in an intimate moment of form completion. I don't think you liked it much at all.

As evidenced in the above picture, you whipped your head around and caught me mid-photo. Um. Twice.

Fuuuuuuck.

Alright so fine. FINE! I admit it. I crossed the line. It was a hard pill to swallow, but one I knew I needed to, My Boyfriend Michael Cera. I get it now. Sometimes opportunities aren't meant to be photographed on a plane while filling out Canadian customs documents, sometimes they are just meant to be enjoyed for what they are, ie adorable.

After the walk of shame off the airplane, through the airport, in line at customs, and waiting for my bags at the baggage claim, one thing became clear to me: I had ruined my schoolgirl crush on you, My Boyfriend Michael Cera, by being overzealous. Now whenever I think of you, I think of your blurry face catching me taking your picture on the plane. Twice. It's forever tainted my appreciation of your parted hair and fine improvisation skills. Hell, it's forever tainted my appreciation of how good my butt looked in those pants. And let's be honest, that's the real tragedy in all of this, isn't it?

In the end, I can only blame one thing for all of this: my blog. (Duh.)

I mean, if I hadn't ever started the blog, I would never have had an outlet for all my love for you, My Boyfriend Michael Cera. I would have googled you and archived the results in my heart, if you will. But as it stood, I sorta felt like I need to record the whole thing for posterity and for the enjoyment of my loyal readers (Melissa's Note: you all are loyal, right? I'm the only blog you frequent, right? RIGHT??!). So if you want to blame anyone, you should totally blame my blog. And not me. Cause, I mean, it's not my fault, right? Exactly.

Anyways. Given all this, I think it's probably time for us to break up, My Boyfriend Michael Cera. I hope you don't take this too hard, because I've thought about it a lot and know it's for the best. It's time for me to move on and find someone who is less awkward and more of a famewhore (ie someone who is willing to be photographed whilst completing all manner of official government documents). If you know anyone who is up for the challenge, you know where to find me: The Griddle at the corner of Sunset and Fairfax, eating the peanut butter crunch pancakes and dreaming about steak cut fries.

I wish you all the best in the future, My Boyfriend Michael Cera. And in your loneliest moments, I hope you'll look back with fondness in all that we've shared. Remember, we'll always have Christopher Guest and no one can take that away from us.

Best,

Melissa

PS: You can keep my Blue Jays 1992 World Series Champions commemorative poster. You deserve it.

**Melissa's note: If Michael Cera ever should read this blog (hey, I think I'm living proof that anything can happen!), I would want him to know that I don't actually think he's my boyfriend. And that I really am very, very sorry for taking his picture on the plane when he was filling out his customs forms. It was a low, low moment and a difficult lesson to learn. But learned it has been and I promise never to do it again should he ever be unlucky enough to be caught on a plane with me in the future.

I will, however, probably still text all my friends excitedly. And be curious about his taste in movies......... And squeal a little. But now I know to keep my camera securely in the off position and my seat back upright.

Athankyou.

New Years' Revolutions '09

2009-01-01T22:03:00.001-05:00

Oh yes, my friends, you read that right: '09 is my year of revolutions, not resolutions. I don't want to try to do better, I want to make real changes.

'Cause I love lists, here's one about what I want to get done in 2009.

1. Be More Funnier
I'm going to finish up my improv classes at the Impatient Theatre Company. I'm about to start Level 3 (of 9 levels total at the school) and I feel like I'm learning a lot not just about performing but about writing and entertainment in general. Plus the school is conveniently located beside a McDonald's so, I mean, it's a no brainer.
I'm also going to keep blogging up a storm and hopefully find someone with a web design background who loves me and will work for homemade chicken noodle soup to design a pretty interface for the site. I know my awesome Photoshop skillz in designing the banner probably makes you think I could do it myself but alas I think that it might be beyond my mad abiliteez. Cough.
I'm also going to lose more shit in cemeteries so that I can keep finding a way to reference BritBrit's vazhoonskies.

2. Spend Less Money
Specifically, I'm going stop buying books. I have approximately 75 books just waiting for me to crack their spines and dig in. Yeesh. Which leads me to:

3. Read More
Truman Capote, Edith Wharton and the shooting script for When Harry Met Sally aren't going to read themselves. I am going to get through my whole pile by the end of 2009, even if it requires me to quit my job and move to LA and sit and read on the beach everyday. I won't love having to live in paradise and eat big pancakes every day, but it's a sacrifice I'm willing to make.

4. Beat my Little Cousin to the Splits
She thinks she's all that because she's most of the way there. Pssssh. I am going to teach her a lesson or two about flexibility in the elderly by beating her there. It was only 5 years ago that I could actually do the splits, so how hard could it be, right? Right?
Fuck. This one might actually be hard to accomplish.

5. Write a Script
Okay. This one scares me. I feel like I should take some sort of a class first since, you know, I have no clue how to actually write a script. Since I bought too many fucking books, though, I don't really have the money to do it. Regarless, I refuse to let 2009 slip by without even trying.
The first step, I think, is buying an antiquated cell phone. Thank you, Google!

6. Actually Go to my Ballet and Yoga Classes
I cannot let myself be deterred by the fact that I fell asleep and started snoring during the "meditation period" of my last yoga class (um, what the fuck do you think is going to happen when you turn out all the lights, light some candles and play soft music in a dark, hot room??! Namaste, my ass). I must go back and try to stay awake this time.
Also, if I am going to get serious about beating my little cousin to the splits, I better get back to ballet ASAP. Plus, my ballet school is located right next to a Jugo Juice, so....

7. Meet My Birth Mother
Oh, hey you didn't know? I'm totally one of those special kids that their parents got to pick out instead of just getting stuck with whatever the stork brought. Jealous? You should be!
Just to catch you up to speed: yes I was adopted at birth, no I've never met my birth family, yes I've always known, no it's never been an issue in my life (I actually think it's pretty cool), and yes I want to meet my BM (obviously). As of June 1st, 2009, all I have to do is contact the government and they'll give me her name and other identifying information, so long as she doesn't register on the "no contact list" beforehand. And voila!
And because I am an industrious little writer, I plan to start a sister blog (all the Melissa, but none of the stalking Michael Cera in the airport hilarity) about tracking her down. I'll link you up once I get that sorted out, hopefully sometime next week.

8. Make a Turkey Dinner
I feel like this is the biggest obstacle I have to overcome in my culinary life, and one I know that, should I accomplish successfully, will guarantee me lifelong bragging rights with my Nan and mom. Since I'm the daughter of the daughter of the family matriarch, a lot is riding on my cooking abilities - both sides of my family fully expect me to take up the reigns and cook the meals some day. And, I mean, I can't let them down, can I? Plus I really like gravy and mashed potatoes so it's really just a good excuse to load up on carbs. And wine. And pie.
(Don't fool yourself, this resolution might look like it's about family, but it's really about me and my corpulence. Suckers!)

9. Ask More Celebrities More Questions
Easy.

10. Go to Barcelona for my Jason Mraz Birthday Show
Oh, who am I kidding? Unless I win the lottery, this one is never going to happen.

Whew. 10 big things in 09! Leave your New Years' Revolutions in the comment section and my favourite one will win something awesome!*

*no you won't.

A quick recap before I head off into the night about what I ended up doing for NYE. As a life long Canadian and 5-year-long Torontonian, I proudly proclaimed to anyone who'd listen that I never deigned to visit Nathan Phillips Square for the CityTV NYE bash.

That is, until last night.

My thoughts? Well, I guess it was nice to experience once in a lifetime. I don't really do well in crowds (uh, can you tell?)

It was crowded. And people were rude. And it was cold. And all the musical acts were former Canadian Idols and thusly super, super lame.

But, whatever. Now I can say I did it. Plus, this picture more than makes up for all the bad stuff.

Adorable. I think if I had her vantage point (and also hat and fur-lined winter jacket), I probably would have had a blast too.

The upside to braving the crowds downtown was the picture taking possibilities. I got some cool ones of the skating rink and surrounding area.

So... there was that. Meh, I'm not the biggest NYE fan anyways (too my hype, not enough Melissa getting drunk and puking in her sink the next morning). Next year I vow to either find a party at which to get really, really wasted or to just stay home.

Regarless, it's a new year rife with new possibilities and new opportunities and new chances to mention Britney's vadge.

I sure am excited! Are you?

Best Last Day of 2008, Ever

2008-12-31T10:16:00.007-05:00

Ahhh. Here I sit at my desk at work, enjoying some classic rock jams with the 5 work colleagues that deigned to come in to work today. We just listened to Fire and Rain by James Taylor (I may or may not have been singing along at the top of my lungs...) and Candle in the Wind by Elton John is up next (apparently we're on the "songs about dead women" portion of the playlist?).

Not a bad December 31st, 2008 if I do say so myself.

So before I kick off my 2008 recap list, I want to recreate a little dialogue between my Nan and I on Christmas Eve that will be relevant to tomorrow's post (you may want to take notes, class).

Picture it: we're all sitting around the dinner table, my Nan, my mom and dad, my brother and his girlfriend and her two kids, and my uncle and aunt. We just finished a big meal and we're chatting about the plans for the next day.

Nan: Meliss, are you staying over tomorrow night?

Me: No, Nan, I'm leaving to go back to Toronto after Christmas dinner.

Nan: Oh. (Pauses.) So soon??! (Gives me the winky eye.)

Me: (Eyes her skeptically.) Yeah...

Nan: (The winky eye picks up speed.) Hmm. (Pauses. More winky eye.) You gotta a boyfriend to go home to, is that why you're rushing back??!

Entire family: (Leans in, hangs on every word.)

Me: (Racking brain to try to come up with an answer that doesn't hint at the truth of the matter - ie that I'm rushing back because I don't want to sleep on her uncomfortable goddamn pullout couch and because I hate leaving my cats alone on Christmas. In other words: I care too much about where I sleep and I'm too much of a cat lady to have a boyfriend, which they obviously do NOT need to know...) Uh, no. That's not why I'm "rushing" back, Nan.

Nan: (Folds her arms and pauses dramatically.) Well, why don't you have a boyfriend, then? (Winky eye goes into overdrive.)

Me: (Dies.) Uh. (Dies.) I. (Dies.) I? (In a flash of genius.) Because no one is good enough for me Nan!!

I flashed her a triumphant grin, but I don't think I fooled her. I don't think I fooled her at all. She's a good Nan though, so she steered the conversation over to why my brother doesn't have a job and with that I was off the hook. Phew.

So aside from that little moment of awkwardness, 2008 was a pretty good year. Yeah, there were the usual dramas (some bigger than others) but all in all everything worked out pretty good for me. In fact, I would probably say 2008 was my best adult year yet. Here's a recap of some of the monthly highlights for you.

JANUARY:

Cali-fucking-fornia! Every year on the Martin Luther King weekend I join my American friends in Oceanside for a long weekend of revelling, singing, dancing (stealing things-ing?), ocean-ing, laughing, eating, not sleeping. Add some acid washed skinny jeans and an adorable accoustic rhymer to the mix, and you've got a weekend dreams are made of. Firsts for me on this trip included going boogie boarding, eating In-N-Out, and seeing Leon's long ball. Needless to say, it was awesome.

FEBRUARY:

Was boring. Did nothing but work. I don't even remember what I did for Valentine's Day. Knowing me I probably hung out with my cats and talked about how much I love them.

MARCH:

Birthday month! This year my birthday feel right smack on Easter Sunday. This was both good and bad: bad because it meant that my normally lame and lonely birthday was even more so as everyone was out of town and not in the mood to get me wasted, but good because I could make a lot of jokes about Jesus and because I could finally drink Coke again as Lent was over. I'm not a crazy Catholic (despite the recent mentions of going to church) but I do enjoy giving something up for Lent and making jokes about giving stuff up for Lent (ex: "Oh, sorry! I can't work today because I'm giving up work for Lent." Or: "Can I have the elevator key, please? I gave up going up stairs for Lent." Etc. etc. etc.). So the timing was kind of perfect, all in all.

I also went to Florida right before my birthday and took advantage of the profitable exchange rate by buying my Canon XTi digital SLR. As you can tell even by a cursory glance at this blog, I take a lot of pictures so my "good" camera, as I call it, has come in mighty handy. I also stocked up on Vitamin Water, Yankee Candles, and adorable outfits from Target. The highlight, however, was the marathon 13 hour day at Magic Kingdom with my little cousins, which was capped off by 8 consecutive rides on Big Thunder Mountain Railroad, AKA my favourite roller coaster EVER. It's got just the right amount of scary-to-fun ratio.

Look how much fun those adorable FLDS members are having at the front of the train!

APRIL:

This month marked the beginning of my 2008 Mrazventures. I drove to Pennsylvania for a couple of shows and hit up a show in Montreal and Toronto. Despite being what others affectionately call "a superfan", I hadn't really seen Jason live since 2005, so I was due for a good run of shows. April also marks my first hardcore solo roadtrip experience. I drove by myself for 7 hours to get to the shows in Pennsylvania and then turned around and drove the 7 hours home overnight. I love to sleep and am a bad night driver so it was a mark of my new-found fortitude that I was actually able to complete this drive in one piece.

I was also at my first Mraz show with a girl-on-girl fist fight this month. Word to the wise: do not fuck with a drunk 18 year old at the University of Pittsburgh. She'll fuck you up.

MAY:

Not much notable aside from my roadtrip to Detroit for another Mraz show. I also met and saw Justin Nozuka and Matt Nathanson for the first time. Similar to the University of Pittsburgh show, don't fuck with a drunk 16 year old that wants to get a picture of Jason singing I'm Yours. She'll attempt to crawl between your legs, making it look like you're giving birth to a surly 16 year old. And then she'll fuck you up.

JUNE:

My best month of 2008, if only because on June 4th one of my biggest goals in life and something I never expected to ever to come true happened: I met my hero Rosie O'Donnell. I know, I know... Half you reading the blog might sorta get it, and the other half will probably be like "oh, I never knew Melissa was a lesbian!" Well, no, Nan, I am not a lesbian (ha!), I just happen to really really like Rosie. I was a big devotee of her talk show back in the day (even being lucky enough to get to see her live twice, once in NYC and the other in Florida when she did her yearly week-at-Disney treks) and really appreciated her sense of humour. More than that I feel like I just get her, like on some level I connect with who she is.

Anyways. The point is is that I finally fucking met her. And not just met her, but was blown away by meeting her. I was the most nervous I've ever been for anything in my life ever at any moment and was starting to obsessively go over the different things I would like to say to her when we met. I've met people that I've loved and respected a lot before and so I've learned by experience that you have to go in without any expectations or pre-conceived notions whatsoever or else you'll end up being disappointed everytime, so naturally my pre-meeting nerves were starting throwing off my good sense. Thus, I ended up scrapping all my scenarios and decided to go in with something funny and non-commital and came up with the best schtick I could considering my nerves: I was going to make a joke about drug addiction. It was risky, but it was all I had...

So it's finally my turn at the gate and manage to make it up the stairs (a minor miracle considering I couldn't feel my feet) and I head towards her and the fan that they had set up to cool off the stage area (there were a lot of bodies crowded in there and with the lights and everything it was very, very warm). I sort of pushed my face into the fan a little and let it blow through my hair and then I turned to her and said "Rosie, I am the world's most nervous girl right now!" and because she's nice she grabbed me and hugged me and then I said to her "I feel like Marilyn Monroe, except 50lbs heavier and not addicted to quaaludes!" She didn't laugh at all (boo! I bombed!), and we sort of carried the conversation on and chatted about me seeing her show in NYC (and how I didn't get picked to be the opening announcer even though I made an awesome sign that referenced Elaine motherfucking Stritch). After a small lull in the conversation and as I was about to thank her and turn and leave, she looked at me and said simply, "you should be a comedy writer."

I died. I mean, she didn't even laugh at my quaaludes joke or my Elaine Stritch story! I thought I bombed!

Not to mention that the first thing that popped into my mind in the moment was "Barbara Walters is right. Rosie O'Donnell is on fucking crack! I could never be a comedy writer" but what came out of my mouth was "Oh my God, Rosie! That is my biggest dream!" Um, really? I had no clue...

Our conversation continued for a few minutes, but that moment stayed with me. In fact, more than any other single moment in my life thus far, it spawned a movement within me to reach towards my goals and become the Melissa I Was Meant To Be. All very dramatic for a joke about quaaludes, right?

And if for a second you don't believe that any of this is true - look over at the side bar. Do you see when this blog really started taking off? That's right. JUNE. I rest my case.

JULY:

It was hot out.

AUGUST:

Uh, August was interesting. Mostly for the job drama I so bravely endured. But that's a story for another blog at another time when I can talk about such things freely (if you catch my drift). Suffice it to say I got to sleep in a lot and read the entire Twilight series in a week. And yes, the chaste vampire sex in book 4 was worth it.

SEPTEMBER:

See August, but add in a happy ending. Life works in mysterious ways, my friends.

This was also My Most Awesome Month of My Boyfriend Michael Cera: I got to go to the Nick and Norah premiere and ask him a question that made him really super awkward (kicking off the theme for all subsequent encounters I'd have with Michael Cera: me making him really super awkward), and found all those amazing videos of him online. Little did I know at that point that it was only a preview of things to come...

OCTOBER:

More Mraz, more Cali-fucking-fornia. I had originally planned this trip during the dark period of August and September, when I wanted to kick the writing thing into high gear and get my butt to LA to visit with my cousin (who is a very talent and successful screenwriter) and see if I liked the city enough to live there someday. See November for my verdict on whether or not I could ever live in LA.

NOVEMBER:

Verdict? Totally fucking liveable. Everyyyone complains about how awful LA is and how they hate living there. Maybe it's because I'm Canadian and thus tend to see the best in people, maybe it's because I hate the fucking snow so much that I would live anywhere warm, or maybe it's because I was spoiled by staying in West Hollywood the entire time and thus was not exposed to the grit and grime that is the rest of LA, but fuck I liked it there. They have Jamba Juice! And Pinkberry! And The Griddle! And James Vanderbeek in a comedy club! I mean, what's not to love??!

Now all I need to do is find a desperate American that is willing to trade my health care for their work permit and get hitched to me. I could make it worth their while in poutine........

And this brings us to.............. DECEMBER:

December was definitely a feel-good month for me, looking back on all I've accomplished and the major push my life has given me to move forward with my goals and dreams. I feel more content and at ease than I ever have before and so I am really looking forward to 2009 with this amazing forward momentum I've got going.

Plus, I mean, I fucking was on a plane with My Boyfriend Michael Cera. If that doesn't make 2008 the best year ever, then I don't know what the fuck would.

Happy New Year, friends! I hope 2009 brings you Your Boyfriend on a plane.

PS - Wipe the crusties from your eyes, down some water and aspirin, and check the blog tomorrow for my Official 2009 New Year's Resolution post. It's the perfect cure for every hangover!*

*No, it's not.

So That Was Christmas

2008-12-27T19:47:00.007-05:00

So I am finally able to waddle from my couch to my desk and sit down without significant breathing issues to type up this blog.

I ate.

A lot.

But who can blame me when there was bacon and roast beef and stuffing and potatoes and nacho dip and pie and buttertarts? And that was just one meal! (Ha!)

My holiday trip up north started, unfortunately, on a sour note. After a significant snowfall on the 23rd, my driveway was predictably a mess on the 24th. After spending the better part of an hour digging my car out, I triumphantly headed back towards the house to load up and hit the road. I was just about to step inside when I saw it out of the corner of my eye: the worst, heaviest, dirtiest, tallest snowbank piled into my driveway by the city snowplows, blocking my exit to the street and effectively killing any Christmas Spirit I had managed to amass in the preceding days.

Actually, that's not true. The thought of shovelling that giant pile of snow killed most of my Christmas Spirit: the rest was killed when none of my neighbours came out to help me and when a truck drove by me as I was shovelling and went through a huge puddle (it was more like a Great Lake, really...) and splashed me head to toe in freezing, dirty, Hepatitis C street water.

I believe the exact words that came out of my mouth were "JESUS HOLY MOTHERFUCKING CHRIST!" as I stood there in my soaking wet boots and started sobbing instantly.

Merry Christmas, right?

Anyways... My pants and my tears eventually dried and I hit the road. The first thing I noticed when I got out of the city? They have a LOT more snow up north than we do.

Suckers.

And keep in mind these pictures were taken after 2 days of mild weather that made a lot of the snow melt. Yeesh.

Anyways. Christmas Eve was lovely. We watched some second rate movie about a retarded reindeer that couldn't fly and got chased by angry gay German wolves (??!). I also kicked my Nan's ass at Jeopardy, which is a favourite hobby of mine. I even rocked the Final Jeopardy question when 2 of the other contestants (and my Nan!) couldn't get it right. What is A Christmas Carol, bitches!!

After my rousing tivia victory, a little snack, and some more Christmas TV fare, we hit the hay fairly early in anticipation of Santa's arrival. I actually even managed to sleep in until 8am, which was in itself a sort of Christmas miracle. I was totally the kid who was up every hour on the hour and then was out of bed by 6am, on pins and needles in front of the tree waiting for the rest of the house to get up. It truly is a testiment to my maturity and patience (right...) that I am now able to sleep in until 8am.

Actually, not only did I sleep in until 8am, but I also went to church Christmas morning with my pops, which I'd never done before. Sometimes we go to midnight mass on Christmas Eve but we've never actually gone Christmas morning, what with the present opening and bacon eating and fighting with my brother-ing. It actually felt kinda good, like maybe I really am getting more mature and patient after all. Plus I really, really like to sing all the carols. I'm just saying I know all the verses to "O Come All Ye Faithful" in Latin. No big deal. I'm a genius. No big deal.

In a Keown/Joseph family record, we didn't get to opening presents until nearly 11am. My bro slept in so we all had to wait around for him to get over to Nan's before we could tear into our parcels. Apparently it's uncouth to just get started without the whole family there? Sheesh. So many rules.

I was a very lucky girl this Christmas and walked away with many, many wonderful gifts including:

1. camera lens (more on that later)
2. Uggs (in the new, trendy grey! Adorable!)
3. digital photo frame to showcase all my fine, fine pictures (it'll probably just end up being filled with all my airport Michael Cera pictures though. Let's be honest.)
4. the best perfume ever - Warm Cotton by Fresh (mmm... Laundry!)
5. books (Edgar Sawtelle, which I started already and am loving, and Waiter Rant, which I know I'll love due to my 8 years of slavery as a waitress at East Side Mario's)

And a few other things that were equally as lovely but probably boring for you to read about.

So regarding my new camera lens... I really think I never truly knew what love was until I got this lens. Within the first 2 frames, I knew it was meant to be. It's sleek, it's fast, it makes the background super blurry: in other words, it is the perfect lens for me.

I mean, really? Who knew a picture of jam could be so lovely??! And yes, that is my Nan's blueberry pie. Swoooon.

So because we got a late start on presents, we got a late start on breakfast; before I knew it, it was time to load the car and head over for dinner at my Uncle Barrie & Auntie Anne's place. They live out near lake Rosseau in a beautiful house on the water. It has heated floors, which is exactly what my idea of heaven is: as long as my feet are pleasantly warm, I will be a happy girl.

Dinner was a typical family event: lots of food, lots of kids, and too many dishes that I got guilted into drying instead of playing with my little cousins downstairs. There was even a wii in house this year so it was extra hard to pull myself away. Actually, it was probably a blessing in disguise as I am fucking terrible at MarioKart. I played an entire round against my cousin looking at the wrong screen... Whoops?

My no-longer-so-little cousin Sydney, in the reindeer antlers I forced her to wear.

My neice Haley was happier about the headgear.

Syd and her new Canon - the brand that gets the Melissa seal o' approval (for whatever that is worth...). This was also my attempt to deflect her taking a picture of me. Sneaky!

The most adorable dog on the planet and stealer of my heart: Nash.

The Nanster and the Momster.

Despite all the glad tidings and season's greetings and camera lenses and Uggs, the best gift I could have ever asked for was actually given to me quite unexpectly on my drive home from Parry Sound after Christmas dinner. Did you know that there is a store on the 400 (link for the non-locals - it's a highway, FYI) called - wait for it - DOCK IN A BOX??! I shit you not... Dock? In a Box!

I obviously read it as Dick in a Box (aka my favourite holiday song) when I first spotted it: it appeared from out of the black night like a beautiful, hilarious mirage. I just about died - literally as I swerved out of my lane a little from laughing so hard and almost ran into an SUV (whatever, yuppie bastard, it was hilarious).

So if ever you are in the market for a dock anytime in the near future, please I beg of you, purchase one from this cheekily named store. Do it for me and for all people who took one look at the sign and thought immediately of Justin Timberlake sporting a fu manchu with a present affixed to his crotch.

Hope you all had as happy and as bacon-filled (seriously, I think I ate about 13 pieces of bacon... I would apologize for my gluttony but I'm not sorry. Not sorry at all!) a holiday as I did.

And as my Nan did. See below.

Cats Love Christmas!*

2008-12-22T11:39:00.009-05:00

*No, cats don't love Christmas. Especially whilst wearing reindeer hats and elf collars. And certainly not whilst being wrangled by their owners into posing for Christmas family portraits.

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button

2008-12-21T18:53:00.004-05:00

I think I've now allowed enough time to pass to recover from my 30 minute sob-fest at the end of this movie. I went in ready to be swept away and, oh but I was!

First, you should read this excellent review that variety posted. It gives you more background on the story, as I won't be going into specifics about plot details.

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button is based on a short story by F. Scott Fitzgerald, which immediately gives the film the kind of pedigree that makes people sit up and take notice. Throw in an Academy Award-winning writer (Eric Roth - Forrest Gump, Munich, The Good Shepherd, amongst others...), an acclaimed director (David Fincher - Zodiac - one of my favourite movies incidentally, Panic Room, and Video Hits: Paula Abdul. Wait. What?), and Brad Pitt and you've got yourself near-instant Oscar buzz.

Do I think that it'll win? My guess is that it has a fair shot at Best Picture. It's the kind of story that the Oscars love - unique yet universal, sad but not depressing, set in the English-speaking world and against the backdrop of a lovely love story. Going by the Golden Globe noms that have already been announced, I'm thinking that it will likely take the big prize - especially considering the other movies in the category seem too real (Frost/Nixon), too sad (Revolutionary Road), too foreign (Slumdog Millionaire & The Reader).

As far as Brad finally getting his elusive Oscar? I don't think it'll be his year. He's covered in make up for most of the movie and, even though he does a fantastic job, I feel like people think that the role sort of acts itself - it's easy to act old when you are covered in age spots with tufty grey hair poking out of your ears. Though, to his credit, I've never seen him this vulnerable in a role. It was the kind of performance that stays with you long after leaving the theatre.

It's a shame about Cate Blanchett (Daisy) not receiving a Globe nom - she was fantastic in this movie, as she is in everything she does. I guess folks just wanted to give the newcomers a shot? Meryl Streep, this might be your year! Regardless, she was flawless in this role and the movie would not have been what it was without her.

Set primarily in New Orleans, the movie's sweeping scope also take us through New York City, Paris, and Russia, giving the story a stunning visual backdrop and Brad Pitt a chance to look hot on a tugboat in the middle of frozen tundra (anything is possible, truly). It clocks in about 15 minutes shy of 3 hours, which I suppose accounts for the fair bit of globetrotting done by the characters. I started to feel shifty about 1/2 way through, but in retrospect I can't think of anything that they could cut to shorten the running time.

To address the biggest question I know you all have - yes, Brad Pitt was stunningly handsome. I'm talking take your breath away, want to emit a high pitch squeal kind of hot. You have to wait about an hour and change before you actually get to see him as his normal self, which creates this gigantic build up that finally gets released. And, let me tell you, a better scene could not have been picked to debut the make-up-less Brad than him on a motorcycle, steering casually with one hand, bespectacled and in leather. As my friend Stephanie so succinctly put it, "I've actually never wanted to applaud so loudly in a movie before!"

Cate Blanchett also looked absolutely ephemereally stunning. Whether she was the 23 year old Daisy or the 70-odd year old Daisy, she was a vision. And I have a feeling she also did most of her own dancing in the film, which leads me to ask the heavens above why one woman should be so blessed? And nakee scenes with Brad to boot??! Sheesh.

Both Brad and Cate had to age 60 years in the film, some of which looked like it was done with little to no assitance from a visual effects team. I'd say there was a good 20 year span where the both of them played Benjamin and Daisy respectively from their early 20s to mid-40s with little more than some eye make up and some scotch tape. Brad Pitt truly did look like he was 20 again... it was amazing - and also, frankly, a little disconcerting as it left me wondering if I can recreate that kind of magic with my scotch tape at home. I'm pretty sure this is how bad ideas are born...

What stays with you, though, isn't how long the movie is or where they go or how hunky Brad Pitt looks on a motorcycle - it's the universality of a story so unique that at first glance it seems impossible to find yourself anywhere in it. We know going in how different Benjamin is from the rest of us, but what we don't know is how alike we are to him.

Most interesting to me was the fact that his difference, though central to the story, was rarely touched upon with the kind of emotional gravity you'd expect: Benjamin ages backwards, it's a matter of fact and dealt with accordingly. Little time is spent in speculation about his condition or why he has it, rather the story focuses on how he reacts to the world around him reacting to him.

In fact, that's what makes Benjamin so endearing - he's not an active force in the movie, he passively accepts the world around him and deals with the cards dealt to him as they are dealt. Sure, the twists and turns of fate bring him to some terribly sad decisions, but they are acknowledged as a part of life: Benjamin accepts the bad with equally as much levity as he accepts the good. I suppose that's what comes from growing up the way he did in an old age home - life and death, good and bad, are eventualities and cannot be actively controlled. He is fully in the moment at all times, not worrying about what's to come or what's already passed.

So while his unique life challenges and his attitude towards them differentiates him from the audience, he still manages to reach out to us by connecting to the universal story: we are born, we love, we die (...in a nutshell, right?). This is as true for Benjamin as it is for the rest of us, though we take very different paths to get there. So when Benjamin falls in love with Daisy we understand the connection, even while he looks like an old man and she looks like a young woman. When Benjamin faces the reality of having to leave his child before he becomes too young (old?) to parent her we understand the loss, even if we age parallel to those we love.

It is perhaps in this way that we all have something to learn from Benjamin: "life, being what it is, a series of intersecting lives and incidents" should not be fought against or controlled but rather accepted moment to moment. Whether we are born old or born young, we will all end up in diapers, hopefully craddled by the one we love in our last moments. And in between, "we can make the best or the worst of [it]." As Benjamin so wisely advises, "I hope you make the best of it."

Go see this movie, friends. It opens Christmas Day.

It's a Snow Day. What's a Girl to Do?

2008-12-19T16:33:00.005-05:00

Step 1: Throw on some heavy-duty, yet adorable, snow boots.

Step 2: Grab your camera.

Step 3: Head outside with your coworker for a photoshoot.

Step 4: Forget your gloves inside.

Step 5: Come up with a variety of inventive snow poses with coworker. Realize that none translate well to film.

Step 6: Kick the snow in anger and disgust; discover that this looks cool on film.

Step 7: Take 30 pictures of coworker kicking snow.

Step 8: Gloveless hands too frozen to continue clicking the shutter; switch with coworker and become the model.

Step 9: Realize you are not a model and so twirl in the snow over and over until she gives up trying to take your picture.

Step 10: Review photos from photoshoot. Take in the pasty skin, and sallow eyes and realize "put on make up" should have been Step 1.

Step 11: Head to Sephora to see what kind of free make up can be scored for Photoshoot Part Deux.

Step 12: Spend 45 minutes putting on free make up and $25 on the Cherry Bomb lipgloss from Clinique that you really liked and now cannot live without. (Note to stores: free sampling works!)
Step 13: Head out into blizzard again for Photoshoot Part Deux. The wind has picked up, however, and you can no longer see 2 feet in front of you.

Step 14: Duck into an alley; realize that it not only provides shelter from raging wind, but also perfect backdrop for Photoshoot Part Deux.

Step 15: Take many adorable photos.

Step 16: Run back to office at a rate of -60km/h. Wind too strong to walk so you go backwards.

Step 17: Freeze to death on the mean streets of Toronto, but because of the free Sephora make up that you scored, you make a beautiful corpse. All is right again in the world.

"That's a lot of snow dude!"

The LadyBeckham?

"Maybe if I spin real fast she won't see my face?"

I'm smiling, but inside I'm saying, "Holy fuck it's cold! I shouldn't have forgotten my gloves!"

Thank you, Sephora, for the free foundation, concealer, blush, eye shadow, lip gloss, and mascara. Oh, and the 16 squirts of Warm Cotton.

ADORABLE!

It's the Clinique Cherry Bomb lipgloss, I swear!

Happy snow day, friends!

PS Benjamin Button review will be up this weekend... I'm still not over my 30 minute sobbing breakdown at the end of the movie and need time to process.

Lost & Found: The Christmas Spirit

2008-12-18T10:13:00.007-05:00

Although I don't look it and I certainly don't act it, I'm quickly approaching my 28th birthday (it's March 23rd, in case you want to start looking around for the perfect diamond or pony named Cupcake now...). This is depressing to me for many reasons (that's a whole other blog post right there), not the least of which is that there is so little whimsy left in my adult life.

So often my money woes, my life goal woes, my single-ladies-put-a-ring-on-it woes, and my I-still-live-in-a-basement-apartment-and-have-hand-me-down-furniture woes clutter my brain and don't leave much room for surprises. As an adult, I always seem to get caught up in realities; when you're a kid, you have the luxury of time to imagine and wonder and believe.

So it's probably no surprise that the hardest part of being an adult for me has been the slow erosion of my Christmas Spirit. When I was little, Christmas was all I lived and breathed from November 25th until Boxing Day. I carefully planned my wish list, meticulously hung every ornament, and basked in the glow of the twinkling lights nightly until the Big Day. There was always snow on the ground, cookies in my belly, presents under the tree, and joy in my heart.

It wasn't just about the gifts either. I loved the thought of seeing all of my extended family at once, eating dinner all together around a big table, and watching cheesy movies with my cousins. I never felt more at ease, more comfortable, more content then I did on Christmas surrounded by those that knew and loved me more than any other people in the world. And when they left at the end of it, they took part of my Christmas Spirit away with them, which even my presents couldn't replace.

I remember the first signs of the slow decline of my Christmas Spirit. I was fairly old, all things considered - probably about 23? My parents sold our house and moved us into an aparment off of Regent street in Sudbury. While it was a lovely place, we were quite cramped (fitting in a house full of furniture into an apartment half the size will do that...) and there wasn't even really room to put up a Christmas tree. Besides, we were spending Christmas at my grandparents' house in Parry Sound so we just felt like there was no point in decorating when we weren't even going to be home. It was the first time that we were well into December and yet I couldn't find even a trace of the joy of the season.

As the years went on, the changes kept coming and kept driving a wedge between me and the Spirit: we lost an uncle to cancer, a grandfather to old age, and a brother's ex-girlfriend to awkwardness (again, that's a whole other blog post...), I stopped getting a stocking (truly, if we're being honest, this was the present that broke Santa's back), moved out on my own, and started showing up Christmas Eve and leaving Christmas night.

In other words, I was becoming an adult and my family was getting older. Gone were the sleepovers and Nan and Pop's basement on Christmas Eve, waking up at 6am and tearing open my stocking with my cousins. Gone were the big presents from Santa that were put out in the middle of the night. Gone was my insomnia keeping me awake all night in fervent anticipation of the mornings' delights. Instead the day became pragmatic - drive, sleep, get up. Unwrap, pile up, put away. Eat, drive, sleep. Just another couple of days.

In some ways, the distance is comforting - with the joy of family also came the overwhelming family dynamics, with the eating also came the pants-not-fitting. Now I can get in and get out and don't have to be the last to leave the party. It's also nice to be an adult at Christmas because I can afford (or rather in theory can afford) to give better presents, which has become my favourite part of the day (after the Eating of the Bacon).

But like a drug addict chasing her first high, I've never stopped looking to find the Christmas Spirit again. To feel again that intense joy and internal satisfaction of the season, the sense that all is right and all is good with all I know. And last night, at the kids' Christmas party at work, I think I might have come as close as I ever have to finding it again.

There were 30 coworkers' kids running around the office (and violating my Hunk Tree, might I add. What's a Hunk Tree, you might ask? Well sit tight, because I have a blog post a-brewin' about it. You'll be impressed, trust me!), hopped up on sugar and pizza and anxiously awaiting Santa's (ie my other coworker Paolo dressed up in a red suit and fake beard) arrival. As one of Santa's elves, I was lucky enough to have a front row seat for one of the most touching exchanges between child and adult that I've seen in my life.

Santa: (packing up his stuff after distributing presents and getting ready to leave) Well kids, see you in a week! Ho! Ho! Ho! Be good little boys and girls!

Coworker's son: (runs up to santa with the MOST joyful smile on his face, tugs his sleeve and hands him a christmas card he just made) Here santa, this is for you! I made it!

Santa: Why thank you, son! It's lovely. I'll be sure to put an extra present under the tree for you!

Son: (flabbergasted by his good fortune, staring up at santa in awe, pauses dramatically before saying) MERRY CHRISTMAS SANTA!!!!!

He meant it with all of his heart and soul, and it was so sincere and innocent and sweet. And it wasn't even about the present, it was the fact that Santa - the coolest guy on earth to this kid - thought that something he did was cool, too.

In that moment, I was reminded what it was like to be a little kid at Christmas again. Even if it only lasted a minute before I had to start rushing around being an adult again, the pure connection and heartfelt sincerity that happened between that little boy and Santa will be enough to last me a few Christmases yet, I think.

And in the spirit of the season, dear blog-reading friends, I've got a few presents up my sleeves for you. Tonight I see an advanced screening of The Curious Case of Benjamin Button and will be happily bringing you my review tomorrow. I'm also about half way through my write up about my Michael Cera airport adventures, which is sure to be a crowd pleaser and excrutiatingly hilarious.

So carve out some time in your busy shopping-wrapping-drinking-merrying-caroling-eating schedules and stop by the blog between now and next week week to have a laugh.

xo
melissa

PS - for the only other "serious" blog post I've written in the year and a bit I've been at this thing, click here. It's about kissing, if that makes it any more enticing for you...

What My Mind Sounds Like at 7.41am

2008-12-15T14:16:00.003-05:00

Mmmmmmmm. Sleep. I like to sleeeeeeeeep. I just want to sleep foreveeeeer.

It feels later than 7.15, though. Maybe I should turn around and look at my clock?

No. Nooooo. No. I should just stay here and keep sleeeeeping. My alarm would have gone off, so it can't be past 7.15....

....But I can hear my neighbour in the shower. So it's gotta be past 7.15. I probably didn't set my alarm last night. I can't be late for work, I should really look at the clock and be sure.

Mmmmm... I'm so comfy, though. And warm. And it's dark. I mean, I'm pretty sure God wouldn't have made life so awesome right now if it was past 7.15 and I had to get up. Right?

No, seriously. Time to turn over and look at the clock. It's definitely past 7.15.

Fuck. It's 7.41.

...Is it too late to call in sick?

(For the record, I went in to work. And I'm going to triple check my alarm tonight so I don't start my mornings off with a debate followed by a let down anymore. It's bad enough waking up in the pitch black to the pouring rain and freezing cold. Right? Am I right?)

I'm an Ass, Or Why a Christmas Party on a Wednesday is a Baaaad Idea

2008-12-11T14:38:00.006-05:00

8: first drink of the night
8.30: it's my jam! britney plays for the first time
9: i find out the waiters' names and try to decide which one i'm going to make out with later
9.30: can no longer use brain for things like counting drinks. only works for putting drink to mouth and swallowing drink, and dancing
10: tell friends to get on the dance floor or they will be layed off
10.30: move on from mixed drinks to shots
11: don't remember
11.30: don't remember
12: don't remember
12.30: remember one of my friends grinding on me??! she will not look me in the eye today...
1: have decided to make out with the waiter with the parted hair, but now i'm thinking he might be gay?
1.30: dancing to britney again, another round of shots
2: i'm in a cab on the way to another bar?
2.30: my friend is pretending she's french and i go along with it. i tell the bartenders that she's from paris and that if they play their cards right that she'll give them a beej in the bathroom later. they seem intrigued
3: got in a fight with a cab driver regarding who should get dropped off first. i lose.
-----------------
7.20: oh fuck, i'm going to puke
7.25: am i still drunk?
7.30: please stop spinning, earth!
7.35: i'm going to puke!
7.40: mmmm. bananas make me not want to puke anymore.
8.05: fuck, i should get up for work now
8.10: hmm. i don't feel so good, despite banana
8.15: whyyyyyyyyyyyy god are you makinggg meeee puke in my sinnnnnnnk
8.20: i hate bananas
8.30: the subway is even worse when still drunk and sorta nauseated
9: i can't believe i made it into work on time!
9.30: everyone loves my stories about how i told the waiter he was cute and that he and i should make half waiter/half donkey babies together
10: everyone is so impressed that i'm still at work and yet i puked only 2 hours ago!
10.15: hell yes, work-sponsored mcdonalds is here! i take two hashbrowns and begin to love life again
10.30: oh, no wait. yep, want to die.
[repeat 10.30 until either dead or leave work early to go home and crash on the couch to episode 6 of True Blood.]

IMPORTANT NOTES:

-It was a theme Christmas Party - we had to come as "Winter Festive". I was a donkey, not a Christmas mouse, not a rabbit, and not Eeyore. A generic (albeit adorable) donkey, made famous by the fact that Mary rode me to the inn in Bethlehem where she popped out that kid. It would have made more sense had my Mary and Joseph not gotten the stomach flu and cancelled out on the party at the last minute.
-No waiters were actually made out with during the making of this blog
-I'm not naked in the second to last picture, I'm wearing a strapless dress. Just so you don't actually think I take this cougar thing for really reals serious.
-I'm never drinking again

California: The Rest of the Rest, Minus Michael Cera

2008-12-08T20:44:00.007-05:00

I think the timing is just about right to finish up my grand California vacation wrap up: it's cold, dreary, dark, snowy, and frozen here in Toronto and I think we all (mostly me, probably) could use a little written sunshine.

So, drop the parka, spit out your hot chocolate, close your eyes, and picture yourself in a studio on the Culver City lot, about to see a taping of The Bonnie Hunt Show. And wouldn't you know it, but I end up sitting beside another Canadian! And for those who have never travelled internationally with me, as soon as I leave the country I become obsessed with being Canadian and try to work my quirky foreigness into every conversation I have. Obviously this strategy was slightly thwarted with my new friend.... until I realized we could team up and be doubly-Canadian/interesting together. So when the warm up dude asked if anyone had travelled for the show I of course shot my hand up right away and proclaimed proudly that I was from Toronto, knowing full well that I probably was from the farthest away and thus 10 times more interesting than everyone else. Things were going great for a while, until I dared to mention gay marriage into the microphone (well, the warm up dude asked me what the differences were between Canada and the US and with it being the day after the election I couldn't help myself but to mention it... And don't worry, my other answer was poutine. I know my priorities!) and he quickly lost interest in me. I mean, we're so open with stuff like that here, I didn't realize it would be taboo... Though, I probably should have guessed given the overwhelming abundance of white hair in the audience.

Anyways... The show itself was funny and - dare I say it - way more interesting than Ellen! The best parts were when Bonnie interacted with the audience. She is a freaking riot and so witty. And watching her try to sing and keep screwing up a song for like 1/2 an hour was definitely the highlight of the whole experience (she does have a lovely singing voice, by the way... the band just kept throwing her off). And, unlike some other hosts coughEllencough, she came out to the audience and thanked us all and took pictures with us post-show.

Behold, continuing the tradition of awful faces I make in pictures with celebrities, my photo with Bonnie Hunt!

I feel slightly less bad because she also looks a little off.

Oh, also interesting was that after all the Canadian stuff, it turns out that my new friend Michelle was from, of all the places in the world, SUDBURY! How crazy is it that two former Sudburians ended up in the same audience at a Bonnie Hunt show in LA??! And yes, the first thing I asked her (after how she is able to legally live in LA, which is the same question I ask every Canadian living in the US. Yes, I am desperate for a work visa....) was which high school she went to. Answer, Lasalle. (We didn't speak much after I found this out. Cough.)

Continuing with the fabulous comedy-themed day, I hit up a show at the Laugh Factory, which lucky for me just happens to be down the road from my cousin's place. Jon Lovitz was headlining a show, and we all know I'm a sucker for the Jewish folk so I had to hit it up. The Laugh Factory is also home to the infamous Kramer racism rant, so I was eager to check a notorious piece of pop culture. Sure enough, Jon actualy referenced the incident in his bit, after he noticed that someone was videoing his set. Things got really awkward for me when they girl proudly told him in response to his asking her to turn the camera off "But I'm from Montreal, I came all the way here to see you!" This was one instance where I told no one I was Canadian and tried to look like I fit in by drinking my watered-down Bud and looking like I was loving it.

As a bonus to the legend that is Lovitz, I also got to see Ashley Hamilton bomb as the emcee (just FYI, jokes about your brain injury and how orange your dad is aren't funny, dude...) and - wait for it - James motherfucking Van Der Beek! I guess Dawson likes him some random Wednesday night comedy and he showed up with his really really exuberant wife for the set. She kept laughing EXTRA loud during the show and clapping really loudly, even when no claps were necessary. I have a feeling that she really really likes being Mrs. Dawson's Creek and likes everyone to notice her. I actually made eye contact with the 'Beek during the show and didn't recognize him at first. His creepy "I'm a celebrity, please recognize me" stare tipped me off though so by the time the show as done I had put two and two togeths. FYI - he has a lot of facial hair now (I assume this is a rebellion against playing a teenager for half of his 30s).

Okay so on to Thursday! I lazed around during the day (and by lazed around I mean went on a mini-shopping spree at Target!) and then headed back over to Hollywood Boulevard and hit up a couple of shows at the iOWest. I also got to try out valet parking for the first time in my life ever! So that combined with the Purple Haze beer I was talked into ordering combined with some of the most mind-blowingly amazing improv I've ever seen made for a pretty motherfucking monumental night, let me tell you. So the first set was a rep group, and they were pretty funny - they did this bit centered around a hobo and let me tell you, nothing much is funnier than a hobo who'll blow a dude for a can of beans teaching kids at a Catholic school about sex. If that doesn't say game of the scene, I don't know what does.

But the second show, oh the second show... it was a thing of beauty, quite unlike any other thing I've seen before in my life. Dasariski may be awkward to say, but trust me when I say it's funny as shit to watch! It was basically three dudes on stage for 45 minutes straight, riffing off of one suggestion and creating some of the most detailed, thoughtful, and fucking hilarious shit I have ever seen on stage. Gushing? Why yes, but most deservedly. I dare you to go up onstage and do what those dudes did with the suggestion "The Dance of the Midnight Swan". It totally made me want to step up my improv game (how making up scenes about my jugs was supposed to accomplish this, I know not... but that's a story for another blog). If you are ever in LA on a Thursday night, see this show. Trust me.

So after the crazy week I had, it was time for a little R&R, a little sand, a little sun, and a little try-out-my-new-bathing-suit-in-public so I headed over to Venice Beach. Actually, first I headed over to Samuel French to pick up some scripts (American Beauty? Yes please! Superbad? Duh.) and then I headed out. Of all the beaches in LA, be sure that it was no mistake I chose Venice Beach. How could I not visit a city that was designed after Venice, complete with canals? And I figured that this Venice would probably smell better and be less pigeon-poop-filled than the real thing, so it was a no-brainer, really. And, well, a single lady such as myself could not resist the allure of that mysterious creature that is Muscle Beach... so I decided to try my luck and hit the road.

The canals were lovely and, as I predicted, much less stanky than the ones in Venice.

The beach was, you know, not bad too......

Ah, who the fuck am I kidding. It was magical. God, I love the beach. I could seriously move my entire life and just live there every day, subsisting on the pity of strangers and any scraps they might leave behind... Uh, okay. Maybe not. But I'm about as close as I could ever be to that vision when thinking about the beach. So whatever.

So I basically just sat around baking in the sun for like 3 or 4 hours. My new bathing suit is decidedly more boob-y than I normally wear so I can safely say that some of my body was seeing sun for the first time since I used to swim naked in my parent's pool in Oakville when I was a babe. Sunscreen is a fair gal's friend though, as I didn't burn at all and even managed to tan a little (that truly is a victory all things considered).

I even went for a little dip by myself - I buried my bag in the sand and put my towel overtop (god, I'm crafty! Or, um, you know, crazy.) and then hit the waves. It was cold, but not January in San Diego sans wetsuit cold, and actually a little refreshing after sitting in the sun all afternoon. Mission: test new bathing suit in the ocean for top stay-up-ability completed!

After my swim (well, it was really more of a bob and jump) I walked around and enjoyed the sunset and pretty sunset lighting and snapped some photos of the beach, the people on the beach, the surfers on the beach, and the crackheads who make up Muscle Beach.

Yeah, can you say let down? I wanted hot, tanned bods pumping iron, sweating and grunting and being manly. Instead I got smelly, old, errant hair (no one should have a freaking mop of hair growing out of their ear... seriously), and addicted to many many kinds of dirty drugs. Damn you and your false advertising Muscle Beach! I haven't been this disappointed since finding out Lance Bass was not simply " super sensitive" but in fact " super gay".

I did, however, manage to find this and sneak attack a couple of good shots. I mean, they are kinda old, but when you're faced with them or Juan the 250lbs homeless dude pumping iron in a cut off tee with a picture of Winnie the Pooh on the front, it was an obvious decision.

Not surpringsly given the caliber of athletes that frequent Muscle Beach, the rings remained unused.

On an adorabler note, isn't this beach couple cute??!

I hope he doesn't give her VD and break her heart like all men tend to do. (Let's not talk about it.)

On a for-serious-now positive note, check out the pretty sunset!

And once the sun goes down, all the surfers come out to take advantage of the sweet swells (I guess surfing is sorta like photography that way - it's best at dawn or dusk, but not so good in between). Note the decided lack of crackheads surfing. Apparently they stick to their free weights and lunges?

So that pretty much wraps it up... I was off to the airport and back to the cold and reality (boo!! reality!! boo!!) the next day. Honestly, if it wasn't for the glorious vision of Michael Cera in that airport, I might have cried the entire ride home...

Next up, the retelling of the fateful Cera airplane ride (Ceranide?) and how sometimes opportunities aren't meant to be freaked out on a plane while filling out their customs forms, but rather just appreciated for what they are (ie adorable).

The Beginning of the Rest of California + An Apology

2008-12-07T22:21:00.009-05:00

Dear Blog,

I am sorry for being such a bad writer and not updating you, linking to pictures of vaginas, and posting pretty pictures all over you. Life has been crazy and I've let myself fall behind. I know that in I promised you late last summer that I would spend more time with you and that I wouldn't get sidetracked... but I got, well, sidetracked. I promise I won't abandon you again and - even better! - find even more dwarf porn for you to enjoy. I have a tonne of stuff to write about (two subway delays in a row! improv shows where I managed to do a whole set of scenes about my jugs! the Midwest!) so I promise I'll be around more. For you, and for the kids. And for the fame. And the money.... and the blog-f*ckers.*

*some or all of these things may not exist.

So, on to business. I'm sure you remember, fair Blog, that I was in California at the beginning of November. Last we left off, I was describing for you my VIP experience at the Ellen Degeneres show (meh, not VIP at all really), an awkward encounter with Kyle Riabko re: humping (yep, still embarassing 2 months later...), and Rikki's parking skillz (major improvements in the midwest, I have to say!). So now we cut to Tuesday at 4.45am where I'm driving back to my cousin's house from LAX, having just dropped Rikki off so she could go home and vote.

Frankly, I'm pretty bummed that I'm flying solo so the minute I get back home I crash so I don't have to think about how lonely it is. Except in my early-morning stupor I manage to finally figure out how to work the heat and in my zeal turned it up to approximately 100 degrees (F or C, it matters not... it was bloody hot!). So of course I woke up not only lonely, but sweaty and grumpy... There was nary a moment to waste, however, so I got up and headed over to the Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf at Sunset & Fairfax, enjoyed a pumpkin latte and wrote this blog. Then I hit up The Griddle again and enjoyed one of the best grilled cheeses avec a side of steak fries I've ever eaten. For a city that has so weight-obsessed, they sure do serve the best (read: fatteningly delicious... fattenlicious?) food. I assume that this is like the fact that I am not a lesbian, despite my haircut and fondness for sweater vests and Rosie O'Donnell - ie another of life's little ironies.

So apres eating, I hung out with my cousin and her super famous friend (not mentioning any names... God, I'm so LA...) and - in what is possibly the highlight of my entire trip after freaking Michael Cera out in the airport - got papparazzi'd. I mean, I doubt that they were there to film me, but you never know how many Los Angelenos read my blog (shout out to my WeHo peeps!) and might want to see the face behind the brilliant words. Cough.

So, on to the evening. Like any Canadian in America on the biggest election night in history, I decide to do something very patriotic and saw my 7th performance of Wicked. I am happy to report that there were no shoes lost or fellow musical theatre patrons harmed in this particular viewing of Wicked. Yes, it makes for a less interesting blog, but on the flip side it makes for a more wants-to-die-less Melissa. So it's sorta win-win.

The theatre Wicked is playing in just happens to be in the tourist epicentre (epicenter for my Yank friends) of the city so I was able to stroll (stroll = walk really really fast so I don't get mugged) along Hollywood from Vine to Highland and take in the sights.

Man, is that street a fucking trip. You've got everything from Beso (owned by Eva "I'm not pregnant, just fat. And by fat I mean 1/4 of Melissa's goal weight" Longoria-Parker) to boarded up store fronts with some of the bummiest bums I've ever seen in a city. In other words, it's very much a street of extremes.

(I'm loving the juxtaposition of the I LOVE AMERICA stickers beside the literal translation of the boot of Italy.)

So all along Hollywood (beginning at Vine, actually) is the walk of fame. Now, most people would assume that you're walking along and it's a fairly small stretch of street with the names of the most famous and notable people in Hollywood through the years.

In reality? The street goes on for blocks and blocks and you maybe reconize every 6th or 7th name (and that was me, and I care about things like Hollywood and movies and which celebrity couple has a transgendered son - I'll never tell! - and so would probably recognize more names than the average person). I'm sorry Joe Fitzstevens, but I don't know who you are and why you deserved this star in front of a store that sells crack pipes and bobblehead kitties. Again, another one of Hollywood's many extentricities.

Most notable on this swath of street, however, is the following:

1. the Scientology presence
2. the lights
3. the Kodak/Grauman's theatre/mega shopping complex at the corner of Hollywood and Highland

Did you know that there is such a thing as the L. Ron Hubbard Life Center? Oh yes there is! And it looks just as creepy as you'd expect it to look. There is at least 2 Scientology centres on Hollywood that I noticed and, as compared to the Scientology Centre in Toronto at Yonge & Bloor, those bitches are swaaaanky in LA. I'm talking chandeliers and ornate furnishings and pretty buildings (Toronto? Crappy building that's 50 years old and hasn't been kept up in the last, oh, 47). Dang, LA, you win this round, even if it's just for the creepy "religion" factor.

And, like the rest of the street, there are crazy giant lighted signs prominently announcing the Scientology presence. In fact, it felt like every single store/theatre/restaurant/souvenir shop/sex toy depot had a giant, lighted marquee. So in case anyone asks why California is having an energy crisis, you can confidently answer that "Ron's Dildo Emporium" is probably partially to blame. (Sorry, no pictures of Ron's. By this point I was practically sprinting down the street to avoid altercations with the many colourful locals.)

I am happy to report that I felt marginally safer at the corner of Hollywood and Highland. There was a GAP there, and I figure that muggings are statistically less likely to occur within eyesight of a GAP (mostly because who would want to take down a yuppie who has a penchant for khakis and overpriced sweaters??! Any mugger worth their corrugated cardboard knows that these things have no resale value on the streetz). Before arriving at this corner, I expected there to be a prominent Kodak theatre presence - like it would be obvious that I was staring at the place where the Oscars are held annually. But.... not so much. I think that without the 45 foot tall gold men & star-studded line up, it's less, um, clear.

I did hit up the Grauman's Footprint Yard (<-- best made up title ever?) and marvel at the teeny tiny starlet feet and the presence of Eddie Murphy's footprints (really??! Sorry, I just figured that they'd be a little more discriminating than to let legends like Judy motherfucking Garland hang out beside the dude who sang "Party all the Time"). Highlights were the aforementioned Judy Garland prints (I really should have been born a gay man), Meryl Streep's super skinny feet (or are my feet just really really fat?), and the Harry Potter kids' prints (oh, Daniel Radcliffe! They called me creepy when I said you were hot at 14, but look at you now!).

Gloria Swanson (ie the "old" Rose from Titanic) had the world's tiniest feet.

*insert joke about the size of Daniel Radcliffe's feet here - note that he was only a teenager at the time of these prints and thus still growing!*

(God, I am so creepy.)

My hero Meryl Streep and her skinny skinny feet. Note my adorable shoes, however.

RIP Paul Newman. I enjoy your salad dressing daily!

So that was my Tuesday, Blog. It was a pretty fun day all things considered (even though in addition to the loneliness I also lost my debit card by leaving it the ATM machine... eep!). I'm going to try my best to condense my Wednesday (highlight: running into James Van Der Beek at the Laugh Factory!), Thursday (improv at the iO West!) and Friday (Venice Beaaaaaaaach!) into one post. Mostly because I don't want to rub my awesome adventures in your face and also because I have Chicago to get to yet, plus all the other fun things that have been happening (think: Christmas family portraits with my cats!).

I hope this makes up a little for not posting in forever and also shutting you down for a couple of days. And if you'd like to get me a welcome back present, may I suggest diamonds or a crisp new $1000 bill.

Just saying.

All my love,
Melissa

PS I don't want to ruin the surprise, but I picked you up something from "Ron's Dildo Emporium" that I think you'll really enjoy.

Whoa, That Took A Left Turn....

2008-11-29T13:09:00.003-05:00

Below is an actual conversation, transcribed verbatim, between myself and the adorable dude at Global Pet Foods who sold me my kitty litter:

Me: Do you mind if I get a loonie (that's our dollar coin, for you yanks reading my blog) for these 4 quarters?

Him: (flirtatiously) Yeah, I do mind... But I'll do it for you this one time I guess.

Me: (flirtatiously back) Well, thank you. I know it's a huuuge inconvenience so I really do appreciate it...

Him: Yeah I mean, it's really putting me out. But I'll do it. I just won't, you know, like it.

(He flashes me a sly grin as he's dropping the quarters in his till, but mistakenly drops one on the floor as he's putting them away)

Me: Oops! Man, I'm making you bend over now even!!

Him: (without missing a beat) Oh, I always have to bend over!

(pause)

Me: Oh. (Awkward laugh.)

(And yes I do know I owe this blog a proper post, as well as a recap of the rest of my California vacation AND a recap of my most recent vacation to Chicago... But it will have to wait just a tick tock as my evenings and weekends are filling up fast and I intend to ride the wave of fun for as long as it lasts... You understand, don't you?)

Motherfucker.

2008-11-13T16:26:00.004-05:00

So I think most of my readers know that I always try to find the silver lining when bad things happen to me.

Losing my Ipod in a sewer? Hilariously random.

Losing my glasses in a cemetary? An excellent opportunity to talk about The Vaj and innapropriate porn.

Losing my adorable in a freak encounter with scissors? Compare to mushroom cut and let giggles ensue.

But today I've met my toughest match yet. Picture it:

At about 9.02am I get an email from a colleague about going to get gourmet poutine for lunch. Clearly, this set my day off to an awesome start (fries + poutine + gravy = Jesus' special gift to me) - I attack my to-do list with zeal, make some challenging phone calls I've been putting off until I was in a greatest-ever-nothing-can-get-me-down mood, and had a mini-heart-to-heart with a friend in need so I could pass on some of my poutine-inspired positivity.

So lunchtime rolls around and we set off with zeal for the Gilead Cafe, home of the city's trendiest and (apparently) most delicious poutine. We were discussing taking the streetcar over when my pal Erika realized she didn't have any change for the TTC. Because I was in such an amazingly good mood, I offered up a tradesies - her bills for my tokens. We did the exchange, I put her crisp fiver in my wallet, and put my wallet away in my bag. About 5 minutes down the road, just after we exited the sketchy stretch of street outside my office (I call it hobo-ville, and I actually think I'm describing it kindly) and entered the swanky Victoria & King swath of stores that sell expensive things I'll never need, I realized my purse was feeling really light. I scanned my brain thinking about what I might have forgotten at home this morning that normally would weigh my bag down (book? keys? vitamin water?)... and realized I had forgotten nothing.

And then a wave of panic hit me: where's my wallet? Do I have my wallet?

After a frantic search, examing every pocket, every nook, every cranny, even my friend's bag I realize it's gone.

Motherfucking GONE.

I deduce it must have fallen when I put it back in my bag. I was in such a poutine-induced trance that I wasn't paying much attention and might have done the old mistaking-where-the-actual-hole-is game (that'swhatshesaid) and missed the gaping mouth of my purse and it slid to the ground.

Or I got pick-pocketed.

In which case, have fun QuickFingers fucking MacGee because I had $5 in there and cancelled my cards within 5 minutes of realizing the wallet was missing. So, you know, enjoy my fucking pocket change. I hope it buys you your dreams. Or at least 1/2 a latte from Starbucks. Asshole.

I see no silver lining, just a lot of really fucking annoying bureaucratic red tape. And no ID for my trip to Chicago next weekend (aside from my passport, which is at home THANK GOD). And a new health card that expires every 5 years. And a lot of missing shit that I can't remember I had in there and probably won't remember until I get to Blockbuster to rent Superbad for the 50th time and realize I no longer have my Blockbuster card.

And honestly? Not helping that it's freezing and rainy and dark already and it's only fucking 4.53pm.

I want to be back in California, land of light and sand and beach and James Van Der Beek. Land of places my wallet was. Land of tan and giant pancakes.

Land of Britney's vagina.

(Hey, at least I tried.)

This Is How We Roll VIP Stylez

2008-11-10T19:11:00.006-05:00

Rikki & I were exhausted after a weekend full of friends, fun times, and a funny man named Mraz, yet we got up fairly early and hit a local WeHo (that'd be West Hollywood for you non-LA types) hot spot called The Griddle Cafe (you may remember I mentioned in an earlier post that I had recently been reading about it in Kevin Smith's diary "My Boring Ass Life" - not going to lie, I was hoping to run into him and tell him the segment from An Evening with Kevin Smith wherein he regales the audience with the story about his wife cut his peen open with her gyrating changed my life - in a bad way - forever).

I'm not exagerating when I say that the portions at The Griddle are ridiculously big. Like, I-can-only-eat-1/4-of-the-plate big.

My peanut butter crunch french toast........ swooon!

After we've eaten our body weight in batter and bread, we head off to the WB Studios on the other side of the hill just off Olive. It's here that we find out that VIP essentially doesn't mean anything except that you get sat directly behind the camera and never get seen on air (I blame my haircut).

The show itself was.......... interesting. Mostly because OF COURSE the day I go is the big Ellen Election Special where she chatted about issues that I have absolutely no say in. I gamely tried to look as American as possible (it involved not mentioning poutine and pronouning sorry "sawry") and be on my best behaviour (the audience was given a stern lecture that we were not to touch Ellen at any point when she danced around us).

The highlights of the show for me, in no particular order, were:

-Bill Maher calling Sarah Palin a bimbo. I'm not sure if that made it to air (doubtful), but it was hilarious and kinda true?
-Anderson Cooper & The Case of the Bad Satellite Link In: they had to film his section twice because the first time the audio kept cutting out and we couldn't understand him. It was the only time that Ellen was really "off book" and not going off a teleprompter for her jokes (I was surprised, actually, how scripted the show was) - and she was actually pretty funny with her ad libs.
-the apres-Halloween segment where she went through clips of her staff trying to scare her and her trying to scare unsuspecting audience members by waiting for them in a bathroom stall. Note to readers: if it involves anyone falling, anyone being scared, or cats doing anything cat-y, I will love it (I thusly assume Ellen must read my blog so she knew what to show to make me laugh. Obvi.).

All in all, it was a pretty cool taping to be a part of, but it felt kind of lifeless on the whole. It was like a little machine plugging away and it didn't seem spontaneous or fresh. I have a feeling it once was, but since she got insanely popular she's had to cater to the suits and "deliver a product" (that's LA speak for shut up and bring in the big bucks, biatch). I did appreciate that she came out after the show to thank the audience for coming in and for any travel anyone did (cough TORONTO cough).

Tired after dancing and staaarving despite the biggest breakfast known to man, Rikki and I decided to hit the town and look for some Mexican grub. After poo-pooing a place called Greg's Tacos (uh, no thanks, Greg...) we settled on Pink Taco, which we had passed the day earlier on the way to the beach in Santa Monica.

I'm not going to lie, I had serious doubts about the quality of the Mexican food at a place named after The Vaj (uh, sorry - named after an actual type of taco??! yeah....) at a restaurant that is owned by someone who has been all up in Lindsay Lohan.

But...

It was actually fucking delish. I have dreams about the carne asado mini taco I had, they were that good! And I tried Mexican coke for the first time and I have to say it's much MUCH more delicious than regular coke, and it is "healthier" for you, too (I use the term loosely, obvi). So if you are in Century City at all in the near future RUN don't walk to Pink Taco. Oh, and if you can buy me one of the Pink Taco hats while you're there too that'd be great..........

That night we headed out to catch Kyle Riabko's set at The Mint.

After hearing such good things about him from my music friends for so long, I was excited to check him out. I thought he sounded great in Spring Awakening so I knew regardless I was in for a treat. And even with these high expectations, I have to say that he blew me away! He plays guitar like a fucking champ! He is far and above one of the best guitar players I have ever seen play, and he can sing and act to boot (not to mention he's fucking adorable!).

After the show Rikki & I decided to grab a drink while Kyle was chatting with some fans who came out. Rikki challenged the bartender to surprise her with a bevarage and so, feeling adventerous, I jumped on that train as well.

... And then I got sorta drunk? Which made me just stupid enough to have the following conversation with Kyle when he finally came over to Rikki & I:

Kyle: Heyyyy, Rikki!
Rikki: Hey---
Me (interrupting): You're a very good humper! (Touches his arm casually.)
Kyle (awkward): Yeah.
Me (realizing I'm a total fucking idiot): I was, uh, just joking! (Touches his arm again, awkwardly)
Kyle (to Rikki): I thought you lived in Chicago?
Melissa (dies).

Ha. I really should get a shirt made that says "I say inappropriate things. Feel free to ignore me", just so people know what I'm all about before I can open my mouth.

I didn't feel too badly about myself afterwards, though, because I rememebered Rikki's "awesome" (I use that word loosely) parking job outside The Mint earlier:

There was literally less than an inch between my beloved rental car and the van we parked in front of. While Rikki congratulated herself on a parking job well done, I said a few Hail Marys and thanked my lucky stars that we didn't hit the car.

And with that, Rikki's portion of my Big California Adventure was just about over. We were up at the ungodly hour of 4am the next day to get Rikki to the airport in time for her to get home to Chicago and vote.

Up next? What does a lonely Canadian do when her friend leaves and she has to fend for herself in LA?

(Hint: it involves her 7th viewing of Wicked and trying not to get mugged at Hollywood and Highland.)

THE MOST IMPORTANT BLOG POST I'LL EVER WRITE

2008-11-09T02:44:00.003-05:00

Holy.

Motherfucking.

Shit.

The entire reason for this blogs existance - nay, for MY existance - was just validated today by one of the best and absolutely least expected things to ever happen to me.

You should probably take a minute now and sit down for this.

Are you sitting?

Good, cause I'm about to blow your motherfucking mind.

OF ALL THE PLANES IN ALL OF THE WORLD, MICHAEL "MY MOTHERFUCKING BOYFRIEND" CERA GOT ON TO MY PLANE FROM LA TO TORONTO TONIGHT.

Let's do that one more time, just to be sure we're all on the same page:

OF ALL THE PLANES IN ALL OF THE WORLD, MICHAEL "MY MOTHERFUCKING BOYFRIEND" CERA GOT ON TO MY PLANE FROM LA TO TORONTO TONIGHT.

I'm not joking, not even a little bit.

Michael Cera.

My boyfriend.

Was on a plane with me to Toronto tonight.

Seriously??! Seriously. What are the freaking odds??! It blew my mind.

Me and my boyfriend Michael Cera and our sweet 6 hour journey to heaven are proof that God exists and has heard my prayers (ie reads my blog!!!). Dreams do come true, people. Miracles happen.

I'll be back to fill in the details (do you want to know what colour socks he wears? what he watches on tv? I have all this and more to tell you!) once I get through the last week.

In the meantime, though, let's just all rest easy with the fact that this miraculous event happened at all. It's like the second coming, only more adorable.

Cougar? Swooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooon.

What Do Teenage Sex and Losing a Flip Flop Have in Common?

2008-11-08T00:07:00.006-05:00

No, not Britney Spears!

The right answer: Rikki & me!

Sunday and Monday were busy days. We checked out of the hotel (and Rikki scored us free parking, proving yet again that you don't mess with Chicago............ unless you want to pay to stow your car) and headed downtown to see the LA stop of the Spring Awakening tour.

I have been a little, um, obsessed with this musical since it was recommended to me. It combines everything you could want in a musical: good lyrics, good music, and lots of sex. More specifically, illicit teenage sex! It's like every cougar dream I've ever had come true in musical form and needless to say I've been looking forward to seeing it for quite some time.

I am happy to report that it didn't disappoint. The staging was really unique and the cast universally phenominal. The deal was even sweeter as Rikki knew the male lead, Kyle Riabko (confirming that Rikki is the most musically hooked up girl in Chicago). He's actually from Saskatoon, believe it or not - and I don't think I'm exagerating when I say that he's probably the best thing ever to come from that town. Not only is he adorable but he's got the voice of and angel and the acting chops to boot (and I haven't even told you about his incredible guitar skillz yet!!).

......... and we got to watch him hump his onstage love interest. Like, hump. No "creative" staging, no expressing sex through song, or lighting, or innuendo. I mean full on exposed breast, hiked up skirt, pants down, I see Kyle's butt kind of humping. Cougar? Swoon.

He's 21 in real life, so it's totally legal in case you're wondering. (Even cougars can't be too careful!)

So after what was clearly a great afternoon, we headed to Santa Monica beach for some quality be-one-with-the-water time. We missed the majority of the sunset but I broke out my tripod and did a mini-photoshoot with Rikki. She was thrilled:

Rikki: Are we going to have to do a photo-shoot?
Melissa: Yes.
Rikki: ... Really?
Melissa: Yes! Now go and walk over there.
Rikki (silently walks over there): Okay? Done?
Melissa: No.
Rikki: You're going to have an entire album on facebook about me, aren't you?
Melissa: Ha! ... No?

Rikki got her flip flop stuck in the sand and like a good friend I took pictures of the drama as it went down instead of helping.

I also got some group shots out of the shoot. It was a very intricate process whereby I framed the shot ever-so-carefully, set the timer, and then booked it over to Rikki (who was pretty far away since I was using a zoom lens) just in time to get my adorable face on before the camera clicked.

The results were, huh, varied.

I fared slightly better at capturing some of the details of the Santa Monica pier.

The last one is actually the reflection of the ferris wheel in the sand/wave. I know, I know: photographic genius. And I didn't even lose my glasses this time out!!!

So that was Sunday. Ells Degens is next up, along with a review of Pink Taco (the restaurant not, uh, the lady-thing).

Oh, and before I go, check out this interesting storefront on Fairfax, south of Santa Monica in Little Ethopia (yes, they have one of those here. Along with a little Armenia??! I thought that that existed only on 30 Rock, but apparently not?).

Firstly, and I'm just going on gut instinct here, The Magic Comb seems like the kind of reputable hair establishment that would not give a lady a mushroom cut when she asks for adorable. And if the worst did occur, the situation would quickly be remedied with some of that hair they have for sale or via magic (it says it right in the title!).

However, I have one lingering question: what and the sweet fuck is "Indian Hair" (quotations theirs, not mine!)??! I mean, I can guess what Indian hair might be, but "Indian Hair"? Is it not real indian? Not real hair? And why is it $400??!

If you have any ideas, pleeease enlighten me in the comments section of this post.

(And yes, this is just a shameful way of me asking you my lovely reader to post comments. They make me feel happy and you want me to feel happy, right? RIGHT??!)

You Like My Moves, David Archuletta?

2008-11-07T12:47:00.005-05:00

Today the road trip moves north from San Diego to LA. After de-glitterizing ourselves and peeling off the spandex, Cheryl, Rikki and I piled into the car for the 2 hour drive to Hollywoodland. It was a fun ride full of good tunes and good laughs. Did you know that Rikki can fly like the wind? 'Cause she can. And, for the record, it makes me laugh so hard I cry.

Did you know that the only thing as good as seeing Jason Mraz in San Diego on Halloween is seeing Jason Mraz in LA the day after Halloween? He played to a sold-out 5800 capacity Greek Theatre, and it was one of my absolutely favourite shows (he played Bella Luna and I STILL loved it, that's how much fun it was). We had pit tickets, so there were only about 100 of us crowding the area around the stage. It felt more intimate than any other concert J concert I've been to (well, except for our LRCs... you can't really get more intimate than our living room...), and yet it was the largest crowd.

If you've ever been to a J concert with our crew you know that we have a lot of coordinated dance moves. We do it because they are fun and because we like to piss off the aggressive teenagers behind us by blocking their camera shots. Unbeknownst to us at the time, however, a few celebrities were in attendence at the show (David Archuletta + family, for one) and were probably wondering what and the fuck we were doing. Or thought we were groupies (it's called SUPERFANS, people. Groupies sleep with the band and we just....... make up dance moves at the shows. Ha!). Whatever, David Archuletta, you're just jealous because your biggest superfan is your DAD.

Anyways, it was a great show, capping off a great run of shows, and I had a blasty with my girls. Cheryl was off to Berkeley the next morning, Cat was off to New York, and Rikki and I were off to see Kyle Riabko humping onstage.

More on that (and my embarassing Kyle Riabko humping story) later.

Today is my last full day in LA and my heart is a little sad about it. I'm going to go drown my sorrows buying screenplays at Samuel French and then reading them at the beach.

No big deal. Beeeeeeeeach.

Trick or Treat! Or, Halloween Is More Fun with Poofy Hair.

2008-11-05T22:28:00.009-05:00

I have some extra time tonight so I'm going to get started on the beginning of the trip....

After what seemed like 5 hours on the plane, I landed bright and early in sunny California, picked up my rental car, and headed south for San Diego. I was still pretty sick and sounded like a man but soon realized the curative powers of taquitos and started to feel better. My buddy Kat had a colour guard practice so I headed out for Jamba Juice, Target, and the Beach. In other words? The Holy Trinity of What California Means to Me.

I got to the beach a bit late so the sun was pretty much down by the time I arrived. It was also super cloudy so my shots are all a little... mysterious looking.

After some quality time communing with the water and the strange asian dude who skated by me with his leg up in the air whilst listening to techno beats, I headed over to Target......... and got totally lost on the way and ended up at Jamba Juice. Lemons? Lemonade (smoothie)! After some hardcore sipping and shopping, I headed back to the high school to pick up Kat.

FIRST MAJOR DIFFERENCE BETWEEN CANADA AND THE US: The football field was fucking triiiiiiiiiiiiicked out! Lights, bleachers, scoreboard, you name it, they had it. It looked like Raptor's Stadium, only outside and with less purple dinosaur. I can say with outmost confidence that we in Canada do not supe our fields up that much. I blame it on the snow and our and love for anything indoors covered in ice.

After practice Kat was nice enough to take me around for a mini-tour of downtown San Diego and can I just say? ADORABLE! I know I use that word a lot lately (I blame the recent, um, interest in Michael Cera for it), but I really mean it this time. And plus the downtown core was crawling with nasty girls not wearing pants for Halloween so you know that if I can overlook that little tidbit I truly think something is beautiful. I think what won me over was that they had actual gaslamps lighting some of the streets! I liked the vibe, very old-timey, very Interview-with-the-Vampire (have I mentioned that I am sorta obsessed with vampires? I blame Twilight and True Blood.... swooooon).

We finished up our tour just in time to pick up Cheryl & Rikki from the airport and then head over to In&Out for some burger animal style. (Didn't know that there was an animal style optsh? I guess you have to be in with the Cali crowd to know that. No big deal.). Deeeeelish. Then it was off to bed for me while the ladies chatting with our sexy friend Conor in Australia via Skype. Because they are true friends, they took pictures of me sleeping and sent them to Conor. (But don't worry, I am plotting my revenge.)

Now, Halloween! I haven't dressed up in YEARS so it was a nice change to get gussied up with the girls. Even better? We got to go to a Mraz concert afterwards and celebrate in style.

And without further adieu, I will reveal the much-anticipated Halloween costume idea:

I dressed up (if you can call it that, I call it simply being true to the voice in my heart) A COUGAR.

Ha! It was like my every dream come true, from the blue eyeshadow to the leopard headband, to the creepy homemade t-shirt. We went with a Mraz-theme so we ironed-on different saying to our shirts for the various band members/instruments. And, because we like to go whole hog, we even made up personas to go with our shirts (and by we, I mean me and I forced said personas on my ever-so-patient friends).

Rikki was Argentina, where the g(spot) is silent. She had "sTRUMPET" on her shirt.
Kat was Vienna, sausages (no big deal). She had "HIT THIS" on her ass.
Cheryl was Asia, where this is always a happy ending. She had "saXXXy" on her shirt.
I was Venice, take a ride down my canals. I had "Master my low end" on my shirt.

The show itself was lovely. I had never seen J outdoors so it was a real treat. We sang, we danced, we did not steal things because it's wrong. We also took some group pics but as I was weilding the camera I am not in any of them. A kind stranger offered to take a picture with me in it but, well, judge for yourself how it turned out.

Here's the one I took. Much better!

Post-show we all ran out to grab some Denny's and I discovered the most amazing thing: potachos. It combines my two very favourite things in the world into one exciting dish: pot and achos. It's also described as having "lots of cheese" so I was very down with it. I ended up doing a bacon-hashbrown combo though as I needed my protein/grease fix to better fight my cold. The potachos had to wait.

All in all, it was a great first 2 days to the trip. And lucky me I still had the LA show and 2 extra days with my girl Rikki to look forward to.

Big shout outs go to Philly & Jon Koch, the SoCal Mraz mainstays and all around cool folk. Both of them were kind enough to pose for pictures with us, despite the abundance of spandex and glitter.

Also mad propz go out to Tab & Kevin for being adorable and awesome and to Kevin espesh for looking most like the person he dressed up as for Halloween (next time I vote more underwear, though).

Alright the Laugh Factory and Jon Lovitz await! I'll be back with more later!

Dude, I'm JUST Like Perez Hilton!

2008-11-05T14:53:00.002-05:00

Whoa! EVERYONELOVESMELISSA coming at you live from the Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf at the corner of Sunset and Fairfax. AKA Perez Hilton's old "office". I never thought I'd be here, it's kind of blowing my mind.

Let me give you a visual. I'm outside on the patio in the shade sitting beside an adorable guy (probably gay, he's too well dressed to be a straightie) wearing jeans, a tight black shirt, and a cute fedora. He's on a Mac, and I'm jealous. I'm staring out across Sunset Blvd at the Director's Guild of America. If I see Steven Spielberg I'll shit. Seriously. I look slightly to the left across the street and I see the Griddle Cafe, which I recently read about in Kevin Smith's memoir My Boring Ass Life. I ate there the other day and saw the lead singer from Fall Out Boy (he's short and has weird hair) and ate the bigest portion of french toast I have ever seen or put in my mouth in my entire life. I'm going to head back over there after I finish my Pumpkin Iced Latte and this blog.

Down the street a ways is the famed Chateau Marmont. I say it the french way, but if you want to sound very LA you should say "Maaaarmooonte". I haven't seen Lindsay Lohan coming out of it yet, but I hold out hope. I'm thinking of planting a baggie full of white powder by the foot of the mountain to see if I can lure her out...

Past the Marmont is Avalon, Skybar, and a bunch of teensy taco places. And this resto/bar in the theme of the wild west... ??

Basically everything here is over the top. Nothing is quiet, or subtle, or normal for that matter. I think this city's motto is go big or go back to Canada.

I've been to the beach a couple of times (once in San Diego and once to Santa Monica). The beach in LA was.... different. It had all the beauty but about 100 times the strange. There was a dude on a bullhorn screaming about Jesus and how gay marriage was an abomination under God??! I wanted to shove a hot dog in his mouth to shut him up but he had these 2 tough guy thugs protecting him from the wrath of passerby. I was about to risk it but then I remembered that this country doesn't have universal health care (...... yet! GObama!!).

I've decided I'm going to start at the beginning of my trip and fill you in day by day. I've been ridiculously busy and expect to remain so until I leave Saturday afternoon.... So I'll try to post again ASAP but I make no promises....

Just to whet your appetite, though, here's what I have on tap for the rest of the week:

TODAY: a taping of the Bonnie Hunt show this afternoon followed by a show at the Laugh Factory (a 5 minute walk from my cousin's house!) starring Jon Lovitz.

THURSDAY: a taping of the Craig Ferguson show followed by a show at the iOWest (yay!!!).

FRIDAY: a taping of the Jimmy Kimmell show and a trip out to Venice Beach to take pictures of all the shiny muscles

SATURDAY: squeeze in one last breakfast at the Griddle Cafe and celebrity spot before I head back to reality.

Oh? And just in case you think that this is it for trips for me for the rest of the year....... I'm going to Milwaukee, Chicago, and St. Louis in 2 weeks.

Ha!

CALIFORNIA!

2008-10-29T21:14:00.003-04:00

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

I Asked for Adorable!!!

2008-10-28T19:48:00.004-04:00

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.

From Miserable to California in 3 Days

2008-10-27T19:36:00.004-04:00

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.

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

2008-10-13T21:49:00.010-04:00

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.

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

2008-10-11T22:39:00.007-04:00

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!!

Black Monday

2008-10-06T22:09:00.003-04:00

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?

Melissy Want A Cracker?

2008-09-30T22:51:00.006-04:00

I guess one of the joys of living in a big city is that you have the opportunity to see many, many weird and wonderful things everyday. Yesterday it was The Barefoot Contaminatessa (was that too much of a stretch??), today it was (drumroll) a pirate riding a bike. It was dark and I was driving by him in my car so the details are a little blurry, but it was definitely a pirate. Riding a bike.

Since I don't think it's fair to thrust this image upon you without any solid frame of reference, behold what google tells me a pirate riding a bike looks like:

He didn't actually have a giant machete (that I would have remembered!) and I'm pretty sure his kickstand was in the up position because he was moving, but the rest is pretty accurate.

So that's two weird things two days in a row. If the Universe is taking requests for tomorrow, I'd really like to see......................... two kumquats dueling behind a paper tree.

Let's see you come up with that one, Universe!

I Saw This With My Own Eyes

2008-09-29T23:06:00.004-04:00

A woman.

A woman walking down the street.

A woman walking down the street without shoes on.

A woman (who was not homeless) walking down the street without shoes on.

A woman (who was not homeless) walking down the street without shoes on. On Yonge Street!

A woman (who was not homeless) walking down the street without shoes on. On Yonge Street! In the pouring rain!

... I mean, seriously. Would you walk down the street, any street, in Toronto without shoes on??! Factor in that she was on one of the busiest and dirtiest streets in Toronto and that it had been raining (thus creating one giant, moist petri dish of bacteria, with a few cigarette butts and dead cockroaches thrown in for good measure).

Seriously. Factor that in.

Then think about it long and hard it for a minute.

And now answer me this:

How many different kinds of Hepetitis do you think she got from that walk?

My guess? Zero. Zero because if she is that stupid and yet still alive, she clearly has some sort of Jesus-approved luck/magic on her side and she, no matter how many dirty streets she walks barefooted down, will never ever be able to catch any sort of infectious disease.

And somewhere in Malibu, Pamela Anderson cries a single lonely tear.

(OMG. Did I just make a Pamela Anderson-Hepetitis joke? Am I an awful person??!)

(Wait.)

(Don't answer that.)

Cougar Shame

2008-09-27T18:39:00.010-04:00

Yes it's Saturday night and yes I've just spent the last hour and a half looking at Michael Cera-related things on the internet. To my credit, I'd like to point out that I was actually looking for one specific Michael Cera thing but then there were links to this and that and before I knew it I got swept up in the black hole of the interweb.

Whoops?

Anyways... What I originally wanted to show you was a post from my favourite internet website ever (after my own), the Best Week Ever blog. Well, it was my favourite website until they made me feel guilty for loving Mikey C.. Okay, so it's sorta true that he plays a lot of awkward, dorky characters. And it's really true that he has a lot of indie cred (I credit his amazing collection of viral videos skewering everything from American history to Lily Tomlin's I Heart Huckabees rant to Alexsey Vayner's video resume). And it's glaringly obvious that the ladies of all ages (ha) love him because of he is able to be self-conscious in an unassumingly confident way (oooh! a paradox!). But still. I think it is within my right to adore him as much as I do! And instead of totally tearing down my Cera-love foundations (cerandations?) it actually linked me to a couple of hilarious and as-yet-unseen-by-me videos and blogs, reaffirming Michael's #1 spot in my cougar swoon line up.

1. Michael Cera's Top 5 Favourite Albums

Okay, so I've heard of 2 of the albums and love only 1, and when I checked them all out on Itunes they all sorta sound the same - synth-y pop stuff - and were not totally my cup of tea. Regardless. 2 of the bands are from Montreal, which automatically makes him cool. Cougar swoon status? Retained.

2. The HuffPo write up about the SNL live episode during the writer's strike.

The story goes that Michael was supposed to host SNL but was unfortunately (on all accounts) cancelled off because of the Great Writer's Strike of '07. Unbeknownst to me (well, beknownst but only in passing and I forgot about it until tonight) the cast, with Michael hosting, put on a live version of the show featuring some all-time great sketches/impressions and some never-before-seen stuff that got cut from the live shows. Every single part of me is in love with this idea and is upset for not paying attention earlier and perhaps making the pilgrimage to NYC to even stand near the UCB theatre and bask in the glory of this Show of Epic Proportions. The write up made the pain slightly more bearable, however. It's very LOL-y - 'specially the part about Michael playing LeBron James. Ha!

Finally, and perhaps best of all:

3. Michael Doing Juan-the-Latin-Superstar Leg Kicks!

Oh lord.... You can tell you are truly a Michael Cera fan when you sit through 5 minutes of pointless dancing (and still come out the other side enjoying it). Fast forward to the 2 minute mark to see the leg kicks. Not to ruin it for you, but he doesn't fall like his predessor. I know, I know. I was disappointed too.

Well, there you have it. I probably could have summed up my last hour and a half with a simple sentence (something along the lines of "No one will ever convince me not to like Michael Cera, not anyone on the Internet, or Jesus, or Michael Cera himself."), but I think it was much funnier this way. I hope you enjoyed the ride as much as I did.

(And Michael Cera will, once he meets me and we fall in love!)

(Wait.)

(What?)

Melissa's Law

2008-09-25T19:12:00.004-04:00

It's 5.15pm and I've just purchased my much-longed for Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist CD and can't wait to tear the plastic wrap off of it and crack that bitch open so I can see pictures of Mikey C. and picture him without his shirt on (cougar swooon).

I walk with urgency to the subway station and get my token ready for the surly token taker when I see a group of people milling in front of a couple of subway cops. I look beyond them and see an unsually large crowd standing in front of a packed-to-the-brim train with its' doors open, going nowhere.

...Something is up, and I bet you it's not going be fun.

Turns out that there are "signal problems" at Eglinton Station - Eglinton Station also known as MY station. The Powers That Be have closed the Northbound Yonge subway from Bloor to Eglinton, leaving me stranded at Dundas unless I figure out another way to get me and Mikey home for some quality one-on-one time. Firstly, "signal problems" is just another word for "subway suicide jumper" (though why they have to close half of the fucking line for a jumper, I know not... so maybe they were actually telling the truth this time??) and secondly, this is really fucking inconvenient.

I end up having to take the subway southbound, go around the loop and get off at Eglinton West station. I then have to board a bus Eastbound through rush hour AND construction in order to get home nearly an hour later.

So I get it Subway Gods: you aren't pleased with anyone railing against your loyal masses. Message taken. But you've just taken 75% of my material away from me, making my blog basically about how much I love Michael Cera with the occasional video of a Latin superstar thrown in for good measure.

If your point was to make me look like a deranged woman obsessed with a 19 year old boy who takes an abnormal amount of pleasure out of portly people falling, then you've succeeded.

*cough*

Commuter Hell

2008-09-24T21:27:00.007-04:00

I'm pretty sure that the high gas prices have forced every asshole off the road and onto my subway train in the morning.

That douche that used to cut me off even though there was no one behind me and he turned left after 2 seconds anyways and had to slam on the brakes to make his turn and cause me to almost hit him? I'm pretty positive it was him who physically pushed me out of the way this morning to get onto the train before me. The asshole woman who rode my ass every morning from 8.37 to 8.52 even though it was bumper to bumper and there was no way for me to go more than 15km/h without ramming the car in front of me? It was almost definitely her who was all up in my grill as I entered the subway car and nearly pushed me over in her hurry to get in and go nowhere. The uppity bitch in her black Mercedes with tinted windows who won't let you over no matter how long your signal has been on or how close you inch towards her? She was definitely the one blocking my access to the pole I need to hang on to for dear life everytime the subway lurches forwards or hurtles to a stop. She was also the one who shot me the death stare when I fell into her after our train slammed on its brakes and I lost my balance due to not having anything to steady me, anything being maybe like you know a pole.

I can't speak for everyone (read: anyone?) but I personally try to make my morning and evening commutes as civilized and courteous as possible. I enter a subway car and I move in as far as possible, trying to maximize space so that everyone can get on and we can all get home as fast as possible and take off our pants and eat some cheese (okay so maybe I am just speaking for myself here). I look right & left, front & back to make sure that my elbow isn't sticking into someone's side, my hair isn't in someone's mouth, and my bootay all up in someone's nether-area. I place large objects like my backpack (or the shotgun I plan to bring with me very soon unless something changes or I go on valium so I no longer have to feel feelings) at my feet so it isn't obstructing other passengers. I exit the train to allow other people off. I give my seat to the elderly or the pregnant teenagers. I am a good freaking subway rider.

But, and I promise this before all of The Internet, if one more person pushes me onto the train, refuses to move in just a little more so I can press myself between the sea of bodies and the flimsy plastic doors that are the only things that seperate me from this pathetic commute and certain death, or forces me to cling to the 2 inch area of spare pole that exists only under their armpit because they are reading the paper and absolutely must have that 3 feet of personal space around them in order to do so, I am going to have to get drastic.

You hear that commuters in Toronto? You better start being nice to me or else I promise to do the following without fail every fucking morning and every fucking evening until you change your nasty ways:

1. What's that sound? Oh, it's just me blasting my 90s techno music from Dance Mixes 1991 through 1994 at top volume on my Ipod.

2. What's that violently thumping you in the back everytime the train moves the slightest bit? It's my backpack. My backpack full of bricks and assorted other pointy things.

3. What's that smell? Sorry but I absolutely had to bring along my fine homeless friend Petey here. It's almost Christmas after all and the guy just needed a comfy place to relax and set down his giant bags full of recyclables for a bit. Don't mind him, he'll just lie across these three seats during rush hour so the train is even more crammed. You can probably just ignore his rants about the Commies and tin foil, too.

4. What's that look for? Don't even try to touch any part of my body with any part of your body or I will give you a kind of stink eye that you only thought possible in your nightmares.

5. What's that taking up the extra seat? It's my purse. And no you can't move it grandpa so I guess you're just going to have to ajust your crutches so that you get more comfortable. It's only a broken hip and my purse is Louis fucking Vuitton after all.

6. What's that disease? I don't know, but you best believe that I'm going to cough right in your face and wipe my snotty nose with my hand and then place it squarely back on the pole aka bacteria breeding ground so that you get what I get next week, just in time for your big presentation and conference call that can't be rescheduled.

7. What's that wailing? Don't worry, it's just my (borrowed, thank god) set of quadruplets. Aren't they sweet? And thank you so much for squishing yourself into that corner over there so I can fit in my giant-sized Jeep stroller with the extra thick wheels and Hummer-grade shocks (did you know that if I really wanted to I could push this stroller through the frozen tundra? I mean, I'm not going to or anything, but it's nice to know that I have that option). Oh? They spilled their sippy cups full of grape juice all over your brand-new off-white Banana Republic cashmere sweater? I'd apologize and offer to pick up the dry cleaning bill but really? That sweater looked like shit on you anyways.

I have a few more sinister promises up my sleeve, but I think it's best to save some surprises for later (I don't want to ruin it, but let's just say that there may be monkeys and the ebola virus involved somehow! But try to contain yourselves until the big reveal, okay??!).

God, it's great to be back to work!

I Wanna Be A Housewife

2008-09-20T22:28:00.008-04:00

Last night a friend and I were lucky enough to catch Jay Brannan's solo accoustic show at the El Mocambo. He's out on his "Fat is a Feeling Not a Shape" tour, and with a catchy title like that you can your little bottom that I was there. I've been a Jay fan since seeing him have a three-way in Shortbus (amazing movie by the way... be warned, though, my Canadian friends - you'll have to rethink your entire childhood watching MuchMusic when you see the things that Sook Yin does with a huge black... well, I don't want to ruin it. But you've been warned!). He's got the voice of an angel and the looks of one to boot... and of course he's gay. Of course.

The concert was an interesting departure from my normal music scene, which I was rather grateful for. I think the last 5 or so concerts I've been to have all been Jason Mraz shows (hello, my name is Melissa and I'm a Jason Mraz fanatic) so it was nice for a change to be one of the few ladies in the audience and to not have anyone pull my hair or push me out of the way or call me a bitch for getting in the way of their picture. It was also nice to get there 15 minutes before the concert and to mill about without having to wait in line (the last show I went to I had friends in line as of midnight the night before. Like I said: fanatic). It reminded me how relaxed concert-going can be. It also reminded me how much I hate going to concerts with teenage girls - also at the aforementioned last concert my friend had a 16 year old dive between her legs so that she could get in front of us and take a better picture of Jason. It was awesome.

The show itself was lovely: Jay's music is earnest and vulnerable, emotional and sharp, and incredibly fun to sing along with. It was my first time seeing him in person and I was excited to see how his songs would translate live. I was not disappointed - he was witty and funny and just as gorgeous as I wanted him to be in the flesh. He also hit my song list trifecta by playing Soda Shop, Relax Your Neck, and Body's a Temple (my favourite Jay song). The crowd was loving him - quiet at the right moments (like when Jay teared up singing a song about an ex-boyfriend) yet vocal about having Jay take off his shirt... and pants (that may or may not have been me that screamed that out?). He was even generous enough to come out after the show and meet the crowd - he gets a little gold star in the "not a douchebag" box of my Singer-Songwriter Checklist for that one.

Aside from the concert itself, the other highlight of the night for me had to be the friends I met at the show- a big shout out to Jay & Steven (Stephen? We didn't get around to spelling. We were too busy finding out how much we had in common). They promised they'd come around and say hi and steal my pictures from the show.

Speaking of - linskies to my new flickr page and some shots of the concert. I used my old point-and-shoot camera so the quality is a little sad... I just couldn't risk bringing the big guns in and having to leave it in the car if it wasn't allowed in. I also have video of Soda Shop (plus the 10 minute diatribe about how Toronto/Baffin Island is hard to navigate) and Relax Your Neck. I'm only linking in Relax Your Neck until I can figure out how to use my video editing software to cut down the Soda Shop video. I'm pretty sure it's 15 minutes long. Whoops?

Next up on my concert list: Ray Lamontagne (I'm sending out good ticket vibes into the universe as this show is currently sold out and I will die if I can't see him) and 3 more Jason Mraz shows (1 in Toronto and 2 while I'm in Cali - you didn't think I'd go all the way to the West Coast and not see Jason, did you??). You can be sure I'll report back re: any friends giving birth to a surly 16 year old in the middle of any of these shows.

Apparently This Has Happened Before?

2008-09-18T11:35:00.010-04:00

More newscasters, more laughing at the misfortune of others. This one is slightly more palatable because gravity's victim is a model and - let's be honest - us laughing at them when they fall is the price they pay for getting to boink Leonardo DiCaprio.

Other video highlights:

1. The incessant wheezy laugh (and nothing say hilarious like "hey you're going to have lung cancer in 5 years!")
2. The frequent slo-mo replays of both falls, including zooming in on the wobbly ankles
3. The calling out of the angry letters from viewers and the deflecting of blame (hey, the nightly news is a dog-eat-dog world... it's every anchor for himself)

And since we're on the subject, here are some of my all-time fave falling videos.

1. The Grape Lady

I find the hilarity in this video does not come from the obvious apres-fall reaction (although I do enjoy a good "I caaaan't breaaaathe! oh! oh! oh!") but rather the the Grape Lady fell after she tried to CHEAT and throw in a few extra vigorous stomps once the time was up. She wanted the free hotel stay and all she got was some broken ribs and a shattered ego. That's what I call irony, bitches!

2. Celebrity Chain Reaction Fall

This video is a lot like the model video because we get two falls for the price of one (Carmen Electra of the striperobics and banging musicians fame and Alison Sweeney of the Days of our Lives and losing weight fame) - and the bonus second fall looks like it really freaking hurt! Yay! Again, this is the price celebs pay for getting paid thousands of dollars to sit around all day eating from the catering table and having to only utter 4 lines like they really mean it.

Okay. I have to take a break from falling videos for a while. I have really terrible karma with this stuff and I am one flight of stairs away from recreating all of the above videos... Only my fall will probably be worse because there won't be any nice gentlemen in suits to help me up and Leo won't be at home waiting for me with a sly grin and an ice pack.

I Lied When I Said the Little Person Humping the Air Was the Best Video on the Internet

2008-09-18T00:45:00.005-04:00

Um? Cause this video is totally the best video on the internet!

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaha. God, I don't know what's funnier - the random leg kicks being passed off as dance moves that incited the fall or the fall itself. Either way, I'm very, very pleased with the internet for providing me with such a great ab workout today.

And before anyone even thinks about calling me heartless as I laugh harder than I have ever laughed before at Juan falling off the stage (and PS - he broke his wrist too!!! ha!!), check out the following clip.

Those are two serious newswomen cracking the fuck up as they report on Juan's stellar musical career and battered body.

If they can laugh at it, so can I.

(And you should too.)

(Story courtesy of the Best Week Ever blog, the Best Blog Ever... to grace the internet!)

(After this one!)

Life Lesson #42: If You Say You Do Something, You Better Have Proof

2008-09-17T17:15:00.007-04:00

So I've started telling some people that my Big Life Dream is to be a writer and invariably they always pose a series of follow up questions about it. Though it's an obvious reaction, I guess I didn't bother to think too far ahead about it because everytime I'm put in the hot seat I always get stumped. It goes a little like this:

Me: I've been doing a lot of thinking about what I really want with my life and I've decided that I'm going to be a writer.

Them: A writer? Wow. Good for you! What do you write?

Me: (Shit.) Uh, well I am working on some things right now. (No I'm not.) And I'm going to LA in November. (At least that part is true.) And I have a blog... (That I don't tell anyone about and thusly no one reads.) So it's all coming together! (*crickets*)

If anyone asks for me, please tell them I am riding the subway all day looking for shit to write about.

Coming tomorrow: The Man Who Took Up Two Seats: An Obsese Man's Journey Underground To Get To Work.

Why Cats Are So Much Cooler Than You'll Ever Be

2008-09-15T12:39:00.003-04:00

Try to watch this video and not giggle a little towards the end. Just try.

PS I wish I had cool videos of my cats. The best I could do is show you how Sofia sleeps on my lap (it's a laugh a minute!) or Bella hides under my pillows (I'm thinking of developing a sitcom about this).

The New Old Post

2008-09-15T00:51:00.004-04:00

Oh lordy! So many new things. Because I am lazy, it's late, and because I can, here is a handy reference list for you:

1. New Old Blog: Look up. Look waaaaay up! See that fancy orange floaty thing with the blog title and little red hearts? Yeah, I totally taught myself how to do that in Photoshop tonight. In addition to the jazzy new banner, I've also streamlined the labels for my posts (also: made them funnier - or, in the case of the Michael Cera label, creepier), edited some shit out (ha), and did a little house cleaning with the pictures and general blog info. More to come - including a detailed post about what the "donkey kick" label is and some background info. Melissa: best blogger ever?

2. New Old Michael Cera: Still a cougar, still in cougar love with Mickey C., tried to photoshop the crowd out of my premiere pictures of him and failed miserably. Okay so this one is all 'old' and not 'new' at all. But I had to stay within the theme so suck it.

3. New Old California: OMG! OMG you guys! I booked my tickets to Cali for a over-a-week-long adventure in the sunshine state (wait - is the sunshine state Florida's nickname? Well, you know what I mean). I am SUPER excited, obv. I get 2 Jason Mraz shows, at least 6 good mraz-friends, hopefully plenty of celebrity sightings, Jamba Juice, In n' Out Burger, the ocean, and some quality time with some local family. I think it is actually unhealthy to be this excited about it, really.

I also have a video of my best-question-ever from the N&N premiere last Saturday (mad props to Jessica, my mraz-friend with amazing youtube skillz). Check it out in the N&N post below. It might be the best thing to ever grace the youtube archives, if I do say so myself!

Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist, Or, 50 Reasons Why Melissa Might be a Cougar

2008-09-12T17:10:00.013-04:00

Last Saturday I was lucky enough to attend the world premiere of Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist and I've decided to bring you all along for the wonderful and wacky ride it was.

Saturday, 1.34am: Oh shit. I'm fucking drunk. How did this happen? Where did all those Strawberry Buzz martinis come from and why is there a kid in a backpack giving me high fives right now? I have to be up at 6am tomorrow to make it downtown in time for the box office to open and get the extra tickets I need for my friends to Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist. I need to go home. Now.

6.00am: Fuck this. I'm going back to bed before I puke.

6.55am: Okay. Okay. I'm going to get up. I'll try the stupid internet site and phone and hope for the best.

7.10: I GOT FUCKING TICKETS! God, I am amazing. Now, back to bed before I puke.

11.30am: I can't feel my hands and I really need to pee. And why do I keep dreaming about backpacks?

1.00pm: Okay. I slept through the worst of it. Time to get up and get some shit done before my Date with Destiny. And by Destiny I mean Michael Cera.

5.00pm: Tickets? Check. Camera? Check. Friends holding spots in line? Check. Cute dress? Check. Autograph book with photoshopped collage of Michael & I on a series of imaginary dates? Check.

5.30pm: There are a lot of screaming girls here for Michael. I feel two things: 1. I am wayyyyyyy too old to be doing this and 2. EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! Is that Finch from American Pie????!!

5.35pm: It totally is Finch. FINCH! God, I've had a crush on him for longer than most of these girls have been alive. He was the first boy that made me realize I had a "type" (nerdy, strange, and goofy hair). I also dedicated a blog-before-there-were-such-things-as-blogs entry to him on my old website. This is, like, totally full circle. Totally.

5.45pm: Where the fuck is Michael??!

5.47pm: Jay! Jay Baruchel! He's been in movies! He looks like Elvis! Oh, he's coming over here... Gotta get my camera out and - oh shit, he didn't just turn to me to pose for my camera, did he? Oh god he totally did. I'm a fucking photographer now, bitches!

5.50pm: There he is. Don't scream like a little girl. Don't scream like a little girl. Remain composed and remember that there is no "omgmichaelcera" in dignity, girl. Oh, fuck it. MIIIIIIICHAEL!!!!!!

5.52pm: So many people in the way. And of course he's the only one not to sign autographs so my pictures are all far away and full of heads... Oh, he is absolutely adorable! Look at his curly hair! And his shoes are so white! I just want to ruffle his hair and pop the collar on his cute little navy blue jacket and - no. No. I am a one faded jacket bedazzled with the words "Rock On" on the back away from being a full-fledged cougar. Must stop now.

5.55pm: Okay. Time to head inside and scope out the seats... Oh shit. We're right beside Finch! FINCH! I've got to say something to him, right? I mean, to be this close and not tell him that he is single-handedly responsible for shaping my love of the geek would be wrong, wouldn't it? Okay... Go for it!

Me: Hey.... I'm a big fan!

Finch: Oh, hey. Thanks.

Me: I didn't realize you were in this movie...

Finch: Oh, well I'm not really. My girlfriend is.

Me: (shit. It was the chick with the sultry red dress and big jugs, wasn't it? Of course.) Well... I hope you enjoy your time in Toronto!

5.56pm: Dies.

6.00pm-7.30pm: MOVIE!

7.30pm: Shit, that was good! It was cute and funny and there were some genuinely touching moments. And Michael was hilarious. And Finch had a cameo as JESUS (see: nerdy, strange, and goofy hair)!

7.35pm: Here comes the cast out on the stage... It's question time. I really want to ask something but I'm shitting my pants right now. God, no one has their hands up. WTF? I figured there would be tonnes of questions and... shit. Alright. I'll ask one. Ahem. "Can the cast name one song that they would like to put on a mix CD?" God, I'm awesome. "No, not from the soundtrack. Any song. Let's open this thing up." Ha! Everyone in the theatre is laughing at me! Hear that Michael? That's what our life would be like: sorta awkward and full of laughs.

7.36pm: OMG, my question just made Michael Cera sooo awkward. I mean, I realize it's not hard to do but man, the dude is shy! He looks so cute when he blushes though, maybe I can ask a follow up question re: boxers or briefs and - oh. Wait. I get it. Cougar.

7.37pm: Who are all these hipster bastards and why are they all in one movie??! Most of them named these obscure bands that I've never even heard of. WTF?

7.50pm: I am not stalking Michael Cera. I'm simply outside checking out this pretty grey Escapade because I really like SUVs with tinted windows and - my, that shadow inside is shaped a lot like Michael Cera's face! Wait. It is? Oh. And he's just turned around and looked at me and I was staring into the window like an idiot and/or crazed vagrant cougar? Awesome.

So that was pretty much my night. The excitement of seeing Michael in the flesh totally outweighed my killer hangover and I genuinely liked the movie to boot. It was a little rough around the edges but it was shot beautifully (there were many a panoramic shot of NYC at night and I mean, really? How many teen movies do you know that have sweeping majestic shots of one of the greatest cities in the world? I know of one. It's called Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist. Have you heard of it?).

My movie highlights:

1. The cameos - Seth Meyers having sex in the back of Nick's Yugo; Andy Samberg as a vagrant (I assumed I looked almost as creepy as him while I was stalking Michael's SUV); Eddie Kaye Thomas (aka Finch) as Jesus; Michael Cera as my boyfriend (ohhhh shit. There I go again!).

2. Kat Dennings - I was not a big fan after The 40 Year Old Virgin so I was pleasantly surprised to find her not only enjoyable but really, really likeable in this movie. She had the right amount of edge, sass, and irony for the part and her chemistry with both Ari Graynor (Caroline) and Michael really brought the characters to life. She also killed as the tough-on-the-outside-but-vulnerable-on-the-inside leading lady.

3. Ari Graynor - Never heard of her before but have added her to my one-to-watch list (past honourees include before-they-were-famous Amy Adams and Rachel McAdams). She sparkled as Norah's high-maintenance friend Caroline and had some of the truly hilarious and memorable (not to mention cringe-inducing) scenes of the movie. Plus she's really freaking bangin' in person.

4. Michael Cera - I can never tell whether some of his one-liners actually scripted or if he's improv-ing them. Some of his lines are just so perfectly quirky/hilarious that I doubt that they would all be in the script like that. Example: "yeah... well. You are... two penises away from a Shania Twain reimagination video!" I mean, who the fuck could write that? It was so random (and thus, hilarious) that I want to believe it had to come out spontaneously during filming. I'd love to see Michael in something serious-but-quirky next - like Juno but with a more meaty role (a male pregnant teenager?). He is one of the lucky few who could bring the right kind of levity to a darker role and I'd love to see him take one some really serious acting. I think he's a far better actor than most people realize or appreciate.

5. The Soundtrack - I expected it to be punk-y and thusly not for me but it was actually smooth and soft and I can't wait until September 23rd for it to come out so I can listen to it non-stop and think about all the things Michael and I will do when we get married and. Fuck. I know, I know. I'll stop.

6. The ending when Nick and Norah finally connect and tune out the distractions of their respective lives and a secret concert by their favourite band in favour of each other. Call me a sentimental bastard, but the last line of the movie gets me everytime:

Norah: Are you upset you're missing it?

Nick: This is it.

Yes. I get it. It's cliched and trite. But by god if it isn't damn true..... It also ranks near the top of Melissa's All Time Favourite Lines from Movies that Make her Heart Sad along with this little gem from The Way We Were (speaking of sentimental...):

Hubbell: Katie, you expect too much from me.

Katie: Oh, but look what I've got.

(Cougar) Swoooooon.

Premiere papparazzi pics to come later!

things i am currently looking forward to:

2008-09-04T22:39:00.003-04:00

1. nick and norah's infinite playlist

i got THE LAST TICKET to the TIFF screening on saturday night (which is, as far as i can tell, the WORLD PREMIERE). let's ignore the fact that i actually needed 3 tickets and selfishly purchased the last remaining one for myself and will go alone and ditch my friends because that's how badly i want to see it. the point is i'm going and i can't. freaking. wait.

2. breathing the same air as my (he-only-needs-to-meet-me-to-know-i'm-the-one) boyfriend michael cera.

also on the list of things to ignore: the nearly 10 year age difference between myself and mikey c., my cougar-like stalking abilities (fitting because of the age gap and also because i'll be agile like a cat stalking it's prey and - no, wait. this is just getting creepier), and the fact that i'll have to get the guts to meet him solo.

3. my improv classes at the impatient theatre company, which start sunday. apparently i'm encouraged to blog about the experience, so expect more info (read: embarassing stories about how i stood up there crying uncontrollably in front of 14 strangers and my instructor for 15 minutes).

4. watching sophie's choice and silkwood. i've decided meryl streep is the best actress in the world. i'm very glad i am so ahead of the curve on this. cough.

5. cali, cali cali: planning a possible trip in october and another in january. god, i love that state. it has in & out burger and the ocean.

6. taking better photos: i just read scott kelby's amazing digital photography book and i'm really starting to get inspired to push myself to the next level. now i just need a spare $1000 to drop on a mid-range telephoto lens and lens accesories. no biggie.

7. have i mentioned michael cera and nick & norah? cause i'm so excited it deserves to be mentioned more than once. cougar swoooooooon.

omg it's my 1 year euroversary!!!!1!!!11!!!!!

2008-09-02T22:14:00.008-04:00

so, like, this time last year i was asleep in a bed off the office at the depot outside of arezzo. and i was probably getting bitten by mosquitos (like an idiot i left the window open and was therefore terrorized nightly by those little buggers) and dreaming about gnocchi al ragu (my meal of choice for the entire month i was away) right at this very moment.

this whole 1 year thang has gotten me thinking - a LOT has changed between then and now. let me share it with you in convenient list form so we can all enjoy it, shall i?

1. i'm no longer (as) scared of air travel. well, technically i'm just as scared as i ever was but now have a coping mechanism: a lot of gravel and my earphones discreetely hidden by the hood of my hoodie during take off and landing so that i distract myself from freaking the fuck out.

2. this blog is funnier now than when it was just about which stupid fucking hostel i didn't really want to stay in in rome.

3. i can outbike small child or one-legged zombies. i, however, still would not be able to make it up a hill in tuscany.

4. i have a lot more confidence in myself and my ability to handle myriad situations. meaning: i now wash my hair every second day and don't care.

5. i crave fresh mozzarella every hour of every day.

6. i know how to say watermelon in italian. anguria. ANGUUUUURIA. an? guria.

7. i now realize that you can fly halfway across the world and other than the better food, architecture, painting, and the centuries of history, everything is pretty much the same. oh, wait. except the guys in italy wear watermelon (anguria!) coloured pants and the guys in canada don't.

8. i want to travel more. lots more. to places like vietnam and india and switzerland.

and

9. i decided i'm going to be a comedy writer.

ta-daaaaaaaaa!

um?

2008-08-27T22:57:00.008-04:00

i have so many things to say about this:

1. at first i thought it was a regular guy wearing shoes on his knees (like that tim conway as dorf? no? no one knows who dorf is but me and my grandma? well get to googlin' people!) and then he sorta turned around during on of his more rigorous thrusts and i realized that i was very, very wrong.

2. what the hell is he singing for 3 and a half minutes because it sure isn't the words to the songs!

3. not that i'm surprised, but "CD's" should be spelled "CDs" and "prepared to be amazed" should have been "prepare to be amazed." maybe they preferred to let the dancing speak for itself?

4. the guy knows how to thrust with vigor but doesn't know the chicken dance??! was he the only little person available and willing to dance to a variety of awkward and awful song snippets? they couldn't find someone with more dance moves other than arms-out-wiggle and the uncomfortable-for-us-but-unfortunately-not-for-him pelvic pump?

5. really? the oompa loompa song? that's not just ironic, that's sorta cruel... well, in a horribly funny way.

is it going to far to say that this is singularly the best video ever made, ever? i don't think so.

i don't think so.

tenacious bee

2008-08-21T00:03:00.004-04:00

i met a friend today for lunch and we decided to grab some food and eat it at ryerson in this lovely little green space they have in the middle of campus. it was a good idea in theory. in practice? it turned out to bee (ha! pun!) one of the most terrifying experiences of my life.

things started out great - we picked a lovely bench in the back corner of the field under a leafy, shady, quiet tree and sat down to our chicken, rice, salad, and potatoes (all for under $6!). as we're outside, i'm not surprised when a bee or two frantically buzzes our way to check out our delicious (under $6!) lunch. i mean, it is pretty yummy so i don't blame them for being curious/jealous/hungry and so i let them dance their dizzying bee dance over and around my (under $6!) lunch.

before long, however, 6 or 7 of their bee friends come over and decide to join in on the party. i realize then that the seemingly random flying pattern of the first 2 bees wasn't actually random at all and that i was one of those crazy bee signal things that give the other bees directions to where the food is.

traitors! bastards!

and you know, it might have been fine even with all the extra company if it wasn't for the fact that a particularly courageous bee decided to land on my (under $6!) lunch and start snacking of his own accord. no one, i mean no one, just grabs my (under $6 or otherwise) lunch without asking me! so we decide to get up and move to a new location and give the bees the brush off.

... except that the bees have none of this and they follow us halfway across the field and begin the holding pattern above my rice again. again! and this time it's worse because they've recruited more hungry friends and now i have two particularly courageous bees in my (under $6!) lunch. they've also started to organize themselves so as i'm trying to shoo the bees eating my chicken away, i've now got 3-4 bees in and around my face trying to distract me and/or make me insane.

the worst part? it worked. i pride myself on not being girly-girl around insects of any sort and secretly (and sometimes not so secretly) judge other girls when they scream and run and cry when they see a spider or a wasp or a giant hissing moth that darts at their eyes with its pokey tentacles. but these bees got the best of me... i jumped up, started running frantically in circles trying to lose them, and - oh yes i did - started screaming. loudly.

okay. maybe that wasn't the worst part. the worst part was that after all of that, i still didn't lose the bees and they were still eating my (under $6!) lunch and still flying into my face to taunt me. one even got caught in my hand... twice!

i was so shaken up by the bee in hand thing that we had to get up again and move to a new location. but even though we were walking really, really fast, we still had - and i'm not joking, not even a little bit - 2 or 3 bees still following us the whole way! we finally lost them after we crossed through the underpass into the street, backtracked down an alley, waded through the river to douse our scent, used pine branches to cover our footsteps, and parked our hungry behinds on the rocks by the pigeon pool on the other side of campus.

the rest of our lunch was passed in quiet bee-free bliss.

...until the bees found us again and i tried to drown myself in the dirty pigeon pool.

moral of the story: my sanity is worth more than $6. also: bees are assholes.

the ups and downs of biking

2008-08-04T19:53:00.006-04:00

um? i had an interesting ride tonight...

i'll give you the good first: i am so fucking awesome at biking now!!

when i first started i was slow and sweaty and surly. now i'm fast and sweaty and (slighty less) surly! the hills are easier, i'm in higher gears, and my heart doesn't feel like it's going to explode from the exertion. i'm really really REALLY pleased with my progress. if i put this in zombie terms for you, i'm pretty sure i could go faster than an elderly zombie who had just eaten and maybe wasn't chasing me with the gusto of a hungry, younger, fitter zombie.

yay!

now for the bad: all my new biking skillz did not prevent me from almost crashing into TWO seperate bikers tonight, one of whom was a small child whose father freaked out on me.

being the emotional, sensitive girl i am i immediately felt awful and totally guilty. but then i realized that it totally wasn't my fault! it's not the kid's either, because he's just a kid and new to a bike. it was, however, completely his dad's fault since he let his novice child ride in a busy bike intersection without really watching him closely. i, thank goodness, was watching him so i was able to sorta predict his move and swerve out of the way in time to avoid hitting him dead on - but not before he panicked, braked hard, fell over, and set his dad off on me. eep.

having had two freak near-accidents this evening, i feel like there must be a lesson to be learned through it (naturally). in both cases i was paying so much attention to the other person's moves that i lost all confidence in my own. had i just gone straight ahead on the path i was intending to take with confidence, i would have avoided both bikers all together. they would have been able to predict my path easily and avoid me.

now, bear with me a minute... because isn't this exactly what i should do with my life, as well? i find that oftentimes i get lost in the worlds' and opinions' of others and allow myself to be diverted from my own path because of them. if i was just confident and true to my own path, my ride through life would be a lot smoother.

...what? they can't all be posts about oral sex!

you're either fat or you give good head

2008-07-26T12:28:00.002-04:00

omg. you HAVE to watch this.

the whole video is a thing of beauty, but the best best best part happens right at the end.

suck it, skinny girls!

(oh, wait. that's right. you can't.)

the best thing that ever happened to me??!

2008-07-20T09:56:00.003-04:00

I'm in my bed right now. Listening to music. Checked all my websites already this morning (nerd alert!!). In fact I've only gotten up to pee so far. So you know, whatever. Just posting this blog from my bed... No biggie.

I don't think I'm being dramatic when I say that the iPod touch has changed my life forever.

Okay. I'm going to go watch superbad now.

(cue the violins.)

(I bet the iPod touch can even do that too!!!!!!!!)

how was YOUR morning??!

2008-07-18T11:49:00.000-04:00

Picture it:

Me, standing at the corner of Avenue and Eglinton, waiting for the bus. I pull out and turn on my ipod and notice my headphone cord is all twisted so I begin to unravel it carefully. Not carefully enough, clearly, as my ipod becomes unattached from the headphones, bounces into the street and…

FALLS INTO THE SEWER.

THE SEWER FULL OF WATER.

And with a sickening and accusatory plomp my beloved ipod is lost forever, like that dude at the end of Titanic.

Beat that.

yeah, but can you outride the ZOMBIES?!

2008-07-14T20:35:00.006-04:00

so i decided my biking goal for the year (yes, year. i like to give myself a very achievable goal. it improves my self-esteem.) is to go fast enough to outride zombies, should the apocalypse happen and i need to get the hell out of dodge. so far, i figure i might be able to go faster than a one-legged zombie or small child zombie. that doesn't sound like much, but when i first started i probably couldn't go faster than ANY zombie so i consider this a great achievement.

so if you can't already tell i had a great ride tonight. i was able to make it up a few big climbs in a high gear and didn't feel like my heart was going to come hurtling out of my mouth and tell me to fuck off. i feel stronger and faster and less of an embarassment to my super-fit, love-to-bike-bike-bike company. one day i may start taking up the ride to work again or even join in on one of the after-work rides. (but i make no promises.)

it's funny - i actually was dreading going out tonight and trying to find excuses not to go. i'm just feeling a little blah today. it's actually a little disconcerting as i've felt so good lately (better than i ever have, actually). and i'm also at the point in my life where i'm ready for the yay!s and awww!s and ooooh!s so today was sorta starting to feel like a step back. (in other words, it was back to the wah-wah!s and boo-hoo!s.)

who knew that a little bike ride and 5 (yes, 5! i know, i'm awesome!) big hills would make me feel better??!

so bring it, one-legged and small child zombies. it's on!

things you should know about a games night at melissa's

2008-07-12T00:55:00.002-04:00

1. she will cook too much pasta

2. she will spill wine or be part of a wine spill at least twice in the evening

3. if there are cupcakes, she will eat them

4. she'll be the one making inappropriate jokes about her cats, but she'll make you think it wasn't her

5. she's a whizz with a wine stain on her pretty new dress and cardi (see #2)

6. she'll leave the dishes until the morning, just because she can!

sunday morning math

2008-07-06T11:40:00.003-04:00

annoying neighbour watching war movies on full blast at 12.30am
+
my burnt english muffin setting off the fire alarm at 9.30am the next morning
=
sweet, sweet revenge.

things in a box?

2008-07-05T23:55:00.003-04:00

things in a box is:

A. a song by justin timberlake about stuffing his junk into a christmas present?

B. a fun party game that mixes balderdash with too-much-information-about-the-way-your-coworkers-think?

C. what my apartment is going to look like with 9 people stuffed into it next friday?

D. B & C?

for the record, i'm giving answer A an honourary vote seeing as it's my favourite song. (seriously, how can you not love a song that combines dicks, boxes, creepy facial hair, and justin timberlake??)

even dogs can be douchebags

2008-07-03T22:14:00.006-04:00

so i was minding my business in the park this afternoon after work (ie trying to get a bit of a tan going on my pasty white face) when a dog came up to the tree i was leaning against and started peeing. being the animal-savvy lady i am, i saw him sniffing around before he actually aimed and lifted , so I was able to move out of the way in time.

what really grinds my gears, though, is that pre-pee i asked him politely, "please don't pee on my tree doggie!" and the stupid jerk clearly disregarded my friendly request. the nerve!

PS -- if i wasn't already 100% sure of the dog's douchebag-status, he promptly proved beyond a doubt what an asshole he was: after peeing on my tree he ran over back to his doggie friends and started trying to hump them. they were too quick for him though, so he just ended up humping the air.

like i said? douchebag.

smoochie smoochie

2008-06-28T22:16:00.004-04:00

ah, the first kiss... so innocent, so pure, so... sloppy.

i waited for what seemed like an eternity for my first kiss. somewhere along the line i guess i decided i was going to hold out for Something Perfect and so i waited. and waited. i was just about to get mee to a nunnery when fate stepped in and kicked my overly-analytical self in the ass.

i was out with a couple of girlfriends driving around sudbury (of course!) and we were actually about to call it a night when we ran into a couple of familiar faces (we recognized them from our high school - they were 3 years ahead of us) in the parking lot where i was dropping my friend back off at her car. i don't even know why we all started chatting or how we ended up making plans but next thing i know the 5 of us were in the valley (of course!) on a beach until nearly 5am.

nothing happened that night, nor the next when they showed up at our work's weekley kareoke lame-fest. but i was interested. very interested. so much so that (you might want to be sitting for this part) i showed up at his house unexpectedly one day to "catch up" (i still can't believe i did that). email addresses were exchanged and much online chatting ensued.

a couple of weeks of this holding pattern ensued and eventually movie plans were made and had. afterwards we opted for more driving around the city (of course!) and we ended up off long lake road high up on a hill with an amazing view of the lake (that was totally not my plan *cough*). i was too nervous to make the first move so i waited for something to happen for - wait for it - TWO HOURS.

finally, i gave up and suggested we drive back home, which must have clued him in. (i guess the dark, secluded area wasn't enough of a tip?) he couldn't believe that he hadn't realized sooner why i had brought him up there.

so there, in my pretty red jeep in the dark in the middle of nowhere and to the sound of the rain outside, i had my first kiss.

for the girl who waited all that time for Something Perfect, it sorta was.

EPILOGUE

before you get all "awww" on me, don't worry, it ended up going down in flames eventually. something about me catching him the back of a police car? or me telling him i "really, really liked him" in the middle of the dance floor at a club in guelph?

ah, but nevermind all that. let's just focus on the Something Perfect, shall we?

thunderstorm: a story in pictures

2008-06-16T21:40:00.003-04:00

can you guess which one shows the lighting? if you get it right you get a cookie!*

*no you don't.

and getting caught in the rain?

2008-06-15T20:14:00.003-04:00

dear jimmy buffett,

the answer to your question is no. no i do not like getting caught in the rain.

today marks the second day this weekend that i've been caught unawares in the middle of a crazy ass thunderstorm and i'm not happy about it. sure, today may have been partly my fault: the sky was sorta starting to darken when i took my bike out for a spin and we'd already had 2 thunderstorms already earlier in the day. regardless, how was i supposed to know i didn't have time enough to pedal my ass up the huge hill and back before i got caught in the middle of it? how?

no fair, jimmy buffett. no fair.

best,
melissa

PS you can shove your pina colada too, mister.

oi! let's go england!

2008-06-15T00:16:00.004-04:00

i don't know if it was all the finger crossing or what, but i am happy to report i am not drunk tonight! woo! i am, however, tired and sentimental. (a fate worse that drunk? let's see how this plays out.)

first, the non-weepy part of my day. (yay!) I SAW MY FIRST RUGBY MATCH! i am in love - it's the best damn game ever! it combines all my favourite parts of football with a no-holds-barred attitude towards tackling and it moves at a much more frantic (read: not boring) pace than the nfl. it doesn't hurt that all the men are buff, sweaty, and burly. it's like watching a male supermodel pageant but with more swears and shorter shorts. (okay, some of the guys seriously looked like they had been hit upside the head with a 2x4. but thankfully they weren't the ones doing all the running and touchdown-ing in my end of the field.)

in other words: mmmmmmmmm.

also exciting (yay!) was that i got to practice my standard driving! i've only been out once before and i wasn't very successful. i find it interesting that you can throw 5 gears into the mix and i'm completely lost, yet i'm otherwise an extremely confident and able driver. after many stalls and jerky starts i sorta have the hang of it. (next step: get super fit on a bike so that i can become a tour guide in italy. DREAM BIG!)

the mellow part of my night (golf claps!) may have been quiet but was equally lovely. i hung out with my buddy morgan and made a delicious pasta and then went for a walk and talked about life. i'm telling you, sometimes you find commonality with someone else in places you'd least expect it. if all walks were like the one we took tonight, i'd invest in better shoes.

i really wanted to post my pictures of the rugby game. hopefully once i've caught up on my chores tomorrow i can carve out some time for this. i've also deferred my saturday crossword ritual to tomorrow, so who knows what kind of time i'll have after that's done.

...hopefully most of the clues are easily google-able and it doesn't take me 4 hours to finish it this time.

wait. what?

not what i expected

2008-06-14T00:28:00.004-04:00

yeesh. tonight was crazy. since it's already after midnight and i should really be hittin the hay, i'm going to make a list instead of write in full sentences. (take that all of my elementary school teachers. i make the rules now!) here are all the crazy parts of my night.

1. drunk by 7pm. and not just any drunk, the kind of drunk where you have to concentrate on walking straight so you don't look like a jackass in front of coworkers. and then cut yourself off before you almost fall off your chair again.

2. saw 3 really hilarious plays, sobered up midway through the 1st one, thank god.

3. got caught in the wickedest thunder storm we had so far this year. i'm talking torrential downpour, crazy thunder, lightening so bright the skies lit up, and wind that makes the rain blow sideways. best part? i was walking in it. the restaurants in the distillery district were "full to capacity" and wouldn't let us wait inside so we took refuge in a crazy art gallery/store. it was actually my first time in the distillery district and i have to say that i'm not impressed. not because it wasn't lovely (because i'm sure it is) but because it rained so hard. (i'm easy to sway.)

4. spent rest of night soaked to the bone and freezing.

now i'm home and i've got the post-drunk blues. tomorrow i vow to have a post that is neither trying too hard nor influenced by outside substances.

start crossing your fingers now, people.

the belt line

2008-06-12T21:58:00.004-04:00

went for another awesome ride tonight. i realized how slow i let myself go normally because i was biking with steph so i had to work extra hard to keep up. (not that she was trying to go fast, mind you. i'm just that out of shape after 2 years in my low rider office chair. complete with theme song!)

on the way back home after the ride (and after our park bench sesh wherein we made about 4 new friends in the matter of 1/2 an hour) i decided to yet again tackled the Dreaded Avenue Road Hill. (yes capitols. it's really freaking hard!) on my way up i realized that the way i bike up the hill is a lot like the way i work at the office. (humour me.)

1. i am an expert multitasker: whether it be balancing multiple projects or trying not to die while keeping my feet pedalling at a steady pace, i am a pro at juggling many things at once. (sometimes it feels like my heart is falling out of my body. awesome!)

2. i work hard where it counts: both at the office and on the bike, the game is mental and i am my best chearleader. (come on melissa! you're almost home! you can have nachos when you get in!)

3. i persevere: i never half finish a project at work, just like i never half finish a hill. (so what if i keep pedalling only because it's slightly faster than walking and i really, really had to pee.)

and finally

4. i am extremely motivated: you don't have to ask me twice to take on a project or pedal a little faster. (again. really, really had to pee.)

i'm totally adding these points to my resume.

oh, the things i saw!

2008-06-11T21:32:00.004-04:00

today was awesome! within the span of half an hour i saw the following:

1. a man with PAINTED ON eyebrows. and not just any sort of painted on eyebrows... painted on eyebrows that looked like milhouse's from the simpsons. (i'd post a picture to give you a visual but i'm scared of the simpson's lawyers.) they were painted-on black rectangles. rectangles!

2. an older-ish woman in a low cut black top. without a bra. on a bumpy bus. who subsequently made an old guy very happy by chatting him up about books for the entire time i was on the bus. i'm pretty sure she could have been talking about dryer lint and gramps would have still been as enraptured with the... conversation

and here's the sweet one:

3. a man who had obviously had a stroke walking slowly but surely down the bike/walk path by myself. even though he had trouble with his left foot (he sorta had to drag it a little) and his progress was slow, he was out and about in the fresh air and getting some exersize. inspirational.

as a result of #3, i vow never to complain about how much i hate to break a sweat anymore. (did i say never? how about for the next 2 days?)

when jokes go bad!

2008-06-10T23:14:00.002-04:00

alternate blog title: why you shouldn't confuse the poor foreign kids working at fast food restaurants.

the scene: mcdonald's at bay and dundas

the cast: me, the asshole who REFUSES to eat any condiment of any sort at any time, and the meek foreign cashier with limited english skills

essential information: there's a salmonella outbreak in the states so some restaurants in canada have temporarily removed tomatoes from their menus, mcdonald's being one of said restaurants.

me: hi. i'll have a regular burger with only lettuce, onions, and pickles. oh, and can you make sure to put on extra EXTRA tomatoes, please?

cashier, stone-faced and concentrating hard on punching in my special requests: only lettuce, onions, pickles --

me, interuppting because he clearly didn't get my hilarious joke about tomatoes: you know i was joking about the tomatoes, right?

cashier, more confused than ever: yes?

...

so my order comes up, i pop a squat to devour my burger and lo and behold i see that there is mayo on my burger. LOTS of mayo on my burger. i check out my order slip and this is what i see:

burger
ONLY onion, pickle, lettuce
EXTRA mayo $

so i put on my detective cap and realize that the cashier thought i said extra MAYO instead of tomato. and he charged me extra for said mayo. which is a condiment. which is something i hate more than outhouses and unibrows combined.

despite the offending white stuff, i was a bit relieved to be honest: at least i knew then why the cashier didn't laugh at my awesome joke.

cause i mean really? that was a-grade material.

back in the saddle

2008-06-09T21:08:00.004-04:00

i went for my first bike ride of the season tonight. yes, tonight... after the most humid day we've experienced thus far this summer. (i thought it was a good idea at the time?)

i knew i was in for it when i got to the air machine (is that even what it's called? it sounds like a really bad 80s hair band!) and instead of being free like it was a MONTH ago, it now costs $1 per fill up. wtf? $1 for air?! the thing i breathe every freaking day for free?! i shouldn't complain though... our gas stations obviously need the money more than i do, so in the end i was happy to give them my hard-earned loonie for air. they deserve it. (cough. cough.)

i guess the loss of change must have thrown off my balance though because as i stepped down off of the curb to fill my tires i twisted my ankle. (yes, again.) and since this happens so often i didn't even stop to assess, i just hopped on my bike and continued with my ride anyways. (don't they have a gold medal for being a trooper? no?)

1/2 an hour and 2 gallons of sweat later, i'm home. and in one piece. and with a swollen ankle. and a sore butt.

the upside? i'm pretty sure with just the sweat alone i lost 5 lbs! at this rate i'll be in a bikini by july!

...

wait, what?

what happens when your closet breaks?

2008-06-08T21:35:00.003-04:00

a story about my sunday, in pictures.

and yes, in case you're wondering, this all occured before 1pm.

so much for watching old episodes of the office and eating guacamole.

melissa, master of puzzles!

2008-06-07T17:40:00.003-04:00

so no funny grocery stories, sadly. i was in and out of there so quickly no one had the chance to let me catch them doing something dumb. i know, i know. i'm disappointed too.

i have, however, started a new saturday tradition that i'd like to share with you: the saturday star crosswords. i'm so excited about it you'd think that i am the first one ever to discover it. i keep running around the office and trying to share my joy but everyone always replies with some variation of "yeah, i do it every week. the saturday one is the most fun!" i start blocking most people out after they say this because invariably they go on to say how fast they can do it, how accurate they are etc. i am neither fast nor accurate, so their information bores me. (and by bore i mean makes me mad because i always have to be the best at stuff. obviously.)

anyways, so i set myself up this afternoon to begin my ritual (it's a ritual after 2 weekends straight, right?): pen, table tray, vitamin water, plus the crossword. (and the crossword solution! you know, just in case...) it takes me about 20 minutes to fill in all the blanks i know off the top of my head. then i go back and see if i can figure out any additional answers since more letters have been filled in.

then things get a little, um, creative. i pull up the following webpages (in no particular order): google, dictionary.com, thesaurus.com, and wikipedia. i then proceed to google all the cryptic clues about famous baseball players from the 70s and random geography for cleveland that i absolutely have no clue about. (and don't even pretend you do either, coworkers! NO ONE knows who bert lyleven is. i'm sure of it.) you'd think that things would speed up here, but at this point i'm really only half way through... by the end of it, my head is throbbing, my back hurts from all the thinking (also why i never did any homework i didn't HAVE to do?), and my hands are black as tar.

despite all these obvious crossword-related illnesses, i've decided to stick this ritual out, if only for the bragging rights come monday morning when i can happily report to my coworkers what i've accomplished.

(and perhaps i'll also add in that i had no additional help and that it took me 30 minutes total to do both puzzles and that this is why the pay me the big bucks and aren't a smart little employee and perhaps a promotion is in my future and sure i'd love an office so that i can be even MORE productive than i already am and thanks for noticing).

from zero to thirty

2008-06-06T19:29:00.005-04:00

yeesssh. it's hot out today and it's forecasted to be hot all weekend/next week. i'm a classic middle-of-the-road gal: i am happiest when it's not too hot/not too cold. at all other times i do what i do best... complain.

i think the hardest part about the heat is wardrobe selection. i basically have two choices: dress to sweat or dress to chafe. i usually opt for the to sweat fashion line because it hurts less. (what? it doesn't hurt when you sweat?) i always dress in layers anyways so if i'm too hot i take off the top layer and if i'm too cold i have a back up. this over-prepared mentality might be why my purse is so heavy and my desk drawers at work are full of soup, but that's a story for another day.

this is the perfect weekend for a bbq, and that's just what i'm planning on for sunday. my lovely friend cindy has invited me over for a southern style bbq. i don't really know what southern style actually means but i expect it to be spicy, full o' booze (or sweet tea!), and avocado-y. it sounds right up my alley.

i'm also hoping for a good grocery store story to blog about tomorrow. the grocery store is like the subway: full of idiots and sorta smelly. i have high hopes, people. high hopes!

bus watch: day 2

2008-06-05T20:19:00.006-04:00

still alive people! i must be doing something right!

so in my effort to follow my dreams (cue the violins) i've decided i should blog more. i am trepedacious for two (2) reasons:

1. because words on the internet are open to myriad interpretations

and

2. i'm scared of hate mail.

i think i'm okay though, since i am currently the only person reading my blog and i'm pretty sure i won't send myself hate mail (i'm not ruling this option out though... never say never!).

in any case, here i am. and i come bearing a story about taking public transit, which (as anyone in the know can vouch for) is a guaranteed good time.

scene: monday night, 5.35pm, waiting for the bus to take me up the big hill that i live on top of. i've secured a prime position at the edge of the sidewalk, right in front of where the front bus doors should open. i'm guaranteed a seat once the bus arrives, which is good because standing makes me sweat (it's a miracle my pants still fit really).

enter lady clad in long button down jean shirt with a bouncy tigger stiched on the front left hand side, leopard print leggings, and socks with faux crocs. she is also carrying a large package of value toilet paper. (awkward.) ms. thang squeezes herself in between myself and the elderly lady standing to my right. this is a well-known transit faux-pas but i let it slide. (mostly because at this point i'm still assessing her mental health and not getting stabbed on the bus platform is currently #3 on my to-do list.) for those not in the know re: transit etiquette, the #1 rule is "do not attempt to make conversation with your fellow transit riders." i live by this rule, not because i'm anti-social but because people are assholes and i make it a priority not to rile the beast with banal conversation (see also #3 on my to-do list).

so of course ms. thang starts chatting me up:

her: when's this bus going to come? have you been waiting long?

me: no, not really. i bet that there's traffic coming down the hill though and 2 or 3 buses will all show up at the same time. this always happens during rush hour.

(as i say this i assess her sketchy-factor and decide she's okay, just impatient like me... maybe we have more in common than i thought!)

her: well i hope it comes soon. i have foot problems.

(whoa. she has foot problems too? and likes to complain to strangers about them? dang, yo! she's just like me, except she loves value toilet paper and animal print!)

me: well i'm sure you'll get a seat. my feet are hurting too.

(i'll never miss an opportunity to complain about foot pain. never.)

her: i have to get home to do my typing test. i'm taking a course and i need to take a test about my typing.

(okaaay. now she's losing me. the only thing i can think of to to say at this point was that they taught us how to type in the 4th grade and now i'm like the world's fastest typer. but i don't want to show her up so i don't say anything.)

(pause.)

(pause.)

her: i am taking a course. and i need to practise my typing!

me, awkwardly: yeah. the bus will come soon.

(where is the fucking bus????)

her: it's going to take me forever to get home, i live all the way at the end of the loop.

(i have no clue where that is exactly, but i know it's far. and don't i feel like an asshole now for taking the bus up 3 fucking stops. and i don't even have a typing test to do later. i just want to get home fast so i can take off my pants and eat cheese.)

like god was listening to my thoughts about cheese, the bus appears. i would have felt worse about my conversation skills had i not heard my new BFF chatting with someone on the bus about how much she paid for her toilet paper. after i heard that, i was just thankful it wasn't me anymore.

anyways. some future possible story ideas include how i got kicked off my subway train today because it stopped working (TTC: the slowest way... to get to work possible) and that time i yelled at the lady in the fur coat (seriously, who fucking wears a fur coat when riding public transit??).

what happens when your dreams come true?

2008-06-04T23:11:00.004-04:00

wow, peeps. june 4th shall happily go down in the history books for me...

today i met my idol.

today i conquered my fear yet again.

today i was a little more ready.

today i said my piece.

today i shone.

today i knew what to expect.

today i did good.

today someone special to me heard what was in my heart.

needless to say, it meant a lot to me. i've been looking for some sort of sign about the direction my life needs to take, and today i was given a clear message.

i get it. and i'm going to waste no time trying to make reality the whispers that have been circling for some time.

i feel good, people. i feel really good.

all love,
me.

PS i always secretly wondered if when your dreams finally came true and when things were just as good as they possibly could be, it was a sure sign that you'd be hit by a speeding bus in one of life's little ironies. i'll keep you posted on this. (or not, depending on whether or not i'm dead.)

Things One Finds in the Park

2008-06-02T18:23:00.006-04:00

1. ladybugs having sex (yes, that's my own photographic artistry you're witnessing! i'm the richard avedon of ladybug boudoir photography.)

2. dogs playing fetch

3. people chatting

4. random homeless guy scratching his armpits (true story!)

5. old people going at it

i should probably expand on number 5, shouldn't i?

so today i wait for the bus for 10 minutes, take the bus exactly 3 stops (yes, it would have been faster to walk, but i like to get my $2.75 worth!) (okay, not really. i'm just that lazy.) and decide to get off at the park and check it out. this park has been exactly 3 minutes from my house for 3 years and yet i've never ever set foot in it. it always looked nice and i've thought about going in a lot, but it's right across from the burger shack so in the battle of park vs. fresh-never-frozen-tasty burgers it always loses. (um, obviously.)

anyways, so for whatever reason i decide today's the big day (somewhere, a lonely uncooked burger is crying out in shame) and walk in. first thing i see: homeless guy scratching his armpits. i quickly tuck away my ipod because the dude looks a little sketchy and frankly i don't want to be jumped behind the tree and lose all of my carefully cultivated jason mraz collection. the view of the park from the street makes it seem tiny; i discover that, in fact, it is not. beyond the homeless guy i see that the part of the park facing eglinton is actually a sort of plateau and that it rolls down down down to a valley below. a valley filled with dogs! and people! and parking! and a playground! and baseball diamond! in other words: it's fucking huge.

so i pick a good viewing spot atop the hill and settle in to ponder deep thoughts (tonight's dinner: frittata!), contemplate my life thus far (happily burger-filled), and speculate about the breed of dog i'll get when i'm thirty (answer: boston terrier). i'm thoroughly enjoying everything about my little jaunt and take it all in: in front of me two dogs are sniffing each others' butts (is there anything more beautiful?), to the right a lovely little grove of trees are in full bloom, and to the left is an old couple going at it under the cover of a canopy of trees.

wait. what?

i cannot stop staring. this is like full on porno make out. he's rubbing her butt and her hands are in his hair and there are tongues flying around at ungodly angles. i watch for a minute expecting it to end any second (don't you have teenagers to feed? an aging golden retriever to walk?) but it just. keeps. GOING!

oh, wait. finally. they've stopped. they are chatting with someone and there's the aging golden retriever. so they were here walking the dog after all!

oh. no. wait. that was not their dog! and now they are groping each other again. this is just like tv, except older!

all in all i watched them for about 10 minutes. 10 minutes of full-on, clothes-on foreplay. they got interrupted again and decided to take things home, i guess.

seriously, though? it. was. inspirational. (unless, of course, this was their 2nd -- 3rd? 4th? -- marriage and they are still in the honeymoon phase... old people can have honeymoon phases, right?) i mean, if 65 year olds are still that much in love after all those years together that they have to absolutely have a hardcore makeout sesh in the park in front of god, the homeless guy, and all those dogs then what the fuck is my problem? (yes, if you're wondering, it all does come back to down to me.)

note to melissa: must get eglinton park make out partner STAT. preferably someone adorable, hilarious, and smarter than me. (i know, i know... aim high, right?)

the white shit

2008-03-09T22:44:00.003-04:00

peeps. it's been too long. i'm going to call it hibernation, even though it's more like laziness. given the amount of snow, my burly just-woke-up-and-don't-want-to-be-nice attitude, hairy-ness (okay, this is a stretch. i actually just shaved my legs for the first time since january. whoops), and unflattering weight gain (i did it for the extra warmth!) it wouldn't be that hard to believe though.

this winter has been what i like to affectionately call "the worst winter ever in life without tops for the rest of human civilization. ever." it's fucking sucked. and of course i pick the basement apartment with the smallest driveway and backyard ever. there's no place left to put the snow out there and getting in and out has become sort of a bumper car extravaganza. ugh. i'm not one to complain (ha) but seriously, this is enough.

which brings me to the best part of this post: in 36 hours mama is dragging her ass to florida for a week. thank you sweet jesus. i'll gladly put up with the screaming, over-excited, over-sugared, over-stimulated march break kids because it's WARM and there's no SNOW and i can buy a new piglet pin for my lanyard.

yes, i just said lanyard.

actually, if we're going to be honest with each other here, i should tell you that i can't find my fucking lanyard (google is your friend). i searched high and low yesterday for it and it's nowhere to be found. of course. the snow probably ate it. fucking snow.

however, i did find my disneyworld pass that has 1 day left on it. i just saved myself $50! that's a lot of piglet pins people.

anyways. my point is is that i'm going on vacation. and what's this blog supposed to be about? you guessed it! vacation! let's ignore the fact that i haven't properly discussed my last vacation and just focus on the postive here for a bit:

1. i've updated the blog finally
2. i put a lovely picture of the flower up
3. I'M GOING TO FUCKING FLORIDA.

there. don't we all feel better now?

now THIS is what i was most looking forward to...

2007-10-19T22:26:00.000-04:00

i know i owe this blog 23942734092387 more posts about the trip, but i'm so excited that i can't bear to get into the details now! i was so looking forward to getting back and photoshopping and printing out some of my shots, and above are the first 2 examples. i didn't do any extensive fiddling (mostly because my photoshop skillz are seriously sad), just black-and-whited the shots and voila! ready, set, look-at-me-i'm-artsy!

the first shot was taken in venice (obviously) and the second is from a rainy night in paris. so happy with the way they turned out.

enjoy!

i need a vacation

2007-09-18T14:40:00.000-04:00

isn't that lovely? i can't wait to see the sistine chapel! i'm going to try to sneak in a few pics. i really hope our guide lets us linger in there... or there's a way for me to get back in afterwards. it was the first thing that i thought of when i found out i was coming here. not to be outdone, though, is the gorgeous fresco on the ceiling of the duomo in florence (left). i can't even imagine the work, the inspiration, the sweat and blood and tears that went into it... breathtaking.

so i've had a stressful day. things back home are hitting the proverbial fan and i have a lot of questions that won't have answers until i get back. you try to enjoy your longest chunck of consecutive time off since you started your job with the weight of the world (melodramatic, yes... but that's sorta how i feel tonight) that that hanging over you. oh well, i'm repeating the time-tested mantra "do not stress out until you have to" until it actually sinks in. i give it, oh, about 10 days to take effect.

otherwise, my new hotel line-up is now confirmed for my shortened stay in rome. the hotel panda will be home for 1 night and then off to the sister hotel the okapi for 2. it's a bitch to find anything reasonably priced, well located, and not a dive in a short amount of time and running over a weekend. but, i did it. i just will be carting my shit around more than i'd like to. at least the hotels are close together! i'm really looking forward to some r&r and time alone in rome. it'll be nice not to have to share a bathroom and a life with people for 3 days. i've enjoyed the company, but i don't enjoy their dirt (thus, the hostel was OUT for rome! i cancelled the allesandro today). i want to sleep in until 9am, take a shower when i feel like it and use as much hot water as i want to, not wear pants and read my book for an hour before bed. luxuries i have sadly done without for the past 2 weeks.

afterwards, i'm off to meet lindsay for 5 days in paris. i'm really excited to spend the time with her in the city. now i won't have to take my own picture at all the sites! i'm also excited to see how well my french will hold up. i've been rockin' the italian here when i have to... but i don't know how well i'll do under pressure in france. the italians are always very helpful - i can't wait to see what the parisians will be like when i fumble for a word. snobby jerks!

in any case, i'm off to read some of my book and relax a little. i'm going to attempt to get to bed before midnight tonight. tomorrow is my last day of work after all so it'd be nice to wake up refreshed and ready to go. plus i wanted to get the shower first tomorrow.