It's happened. November downer times have smashed my face in like Mac truck full of turds. I know it happens every year, but woah man. Dire. Extra weird because the snow hasn't even hit yet. There is only one thing to do, and that's to listen to the most fretful music there is, max your credit card buying swarovski crystals and furs and ostrich feathers on ebay so you can drape yourself in something more melodramatic than your wintertime feelings, and swirl around until spring hits. Take breaks for whiskey and intercourse.
Here, I'll get you started:
Why not wear a beautiful hat while you are crying about it, you melancholy hookerpirate?
Ahoy. (via topsyturvydesign.com) These are seriously the kinds of things that I am making in my costume room right now. I don't even care, I am just going to start wearing giant fucking satin hats and capes and carrying canes.
Anyway at least winter party season is starting soon.
Let's just all stay at least a tiny bit drunk until May. Ok?
Smash!
Recipe: eat kettle chips out of a dirty saucepan because who even cares about ANYTHING?
The Edmonton weather can't decide what it is today, and it is kind of sunny with crunchy fall air, but the clouds are low and the air pressure is wrong, making it feel like a fat guy is sitting on my head. Or maybe it is just that I listened to this first thing when I got to work:
I like this record's bleakness, not the oppressive downer type, but rather like the whistful ghost that you KNOW haunts your creaky old workplace (I mean it, the Armoury is fucking spooktown) is singing her brittle feelings too close to your ear.
Classy move: their record is available for pay-what-you-want download here.
Speaking of brittle music, Doug thought it would be really funny to bash out a super quick and dirty song in his studio last night. No vocals yet, we're working up to it, in fact not really even verse/chorus structure in there yet, but I played drums, which was totally difficult for two main reasons:
1) I don't know how to play drums.
2) From what I can tell, playing drums is really hard.
We did it anyway, and the resulting song ("Fish Griwkowsky Panty Raid") is here if you care to listen to it. I still like you if you don't care to listen to it. We are just dicking around.
So there is this fashion blog called Oracle Fox that I was introduced to by Miss Genevieve Savard. Some of the narrative voices in it are a little pointy (I can't actually tell if it is a she or a they), but looking at fashion makes me want to make art for whatever reason (probably because I am too chubby and Edmontonian to actually be invested in fashion in any way other than aesthetic appreciation) and the fashion featured here is almost always my favorite. Anyway, they posted photos from the White Fairytale Ball and the decor is so DREAMY. It makes me want to throw a fabulous winter party for grown-ups where we all look nice and the food is just right and the music is nice and there are thoughtfully designed cocktails. Cufflinks. I want to see my friends wearing cufflinks. Anyway, here are the photos. If you feel equally inspired and want to co-pilot a winter ball please let me know asap.
(Sorry about the photos not fitting in the little middle colour bar. If I make them smaller you can't see the details)
Sigh.
Anyway, back to dirt-crusted real life.
Remember how I said that I was doing that hand-drawn animation and it was taking forfuckingever? Look at this one, done totally with markers on paper. Holy shit, animating the movement of water!?! Talentboner. I wish there was more colour, but still, talentboner. ***MAJOR WARNING BEFORE YOU WATCH THIS: The song that goes with it was so irritating that I was very tempted to stab through my eardrums with scissors. I very very strongly suggest you watch this with the sound off. If you ignore this warning, don't come crying to me when you have gagged to death from a twee overdose and have ended up trapped for eternity in a prison made of crystallized sugarfeelings.
Ok, here it is: Kijek/Adamski Pirate's Life - via BOOOOOOOM!
Ok. This has to be a short one, I guess. Time to do some real grown up job work. Here, why don't you call up a friend and dance all dirty:
As for today's recipe, I am kind of tired of eating after Thanksgiving. I don't know about you. Instead let me give you a secret eye make-up remover tip. Look in the pharmacy section of your drugstore or grocery store for rosewater and glycerine. It comes already blended: handy! It is usually in the section where they have Calamine lotion, mineral oil and other old-timey multi-purpose remedies. Save-On usually prices it at about 4 dollars for the generic brand. It works like a dream and isn't full of poisonous crap that you probably shouldn't be soaking your eyeballs in (seriously, when I read the ingredients labels in some of the stuff I put on my face I can feel myself getting wrinkly cancer). (Don't put it all over your face though, glycerine is pretty serious business in terms of moisturizing and might end up giving you zits if you're prone. Eye zone only!)
Absentee! Sorry. Everything got sort of stressful for a little bit there. It has all worked out though because...
Big news!! I got a job. Not a temp job and not a mostly volunteer job and not a soul-suckingly shitty job. A real nice permanent normal person job, related to my college degree. Not embarrassing to disclose, I don't have to say "but I am also a (whatever) on the side". Great, right? I can go to the dentist without having to take out a bank loan. I get paid holidays. It's not expensive to catch a cold. All those shitty temp jobs finally paid off. I have a cubicle of my very own to decorate now.
I gotta watch it though, this job is making me fat already and I only just got here. There are a lot of delicious snacks floating around this office, no Sunterra salad bar, and the gym is far away now, as opposed to being right downstairs like at my last gig... I have already started to notice the flabalanche threatening to cascade over the edge of my waistband and I have only been here for 6 weeks. I am going to have to ask some of the other office ladies if they are up for lunchtime workout club.
I have also quit smoking since I last posted, which made me every single different kind of crazy (see bitchy last post, it only got worse from there. My sincere apologies to everyone I have spoken to in the last month.) That is also contributing to my new flab. I am not very good at being fat, despite the fact that every couple of years I have a bizarro weight fluctuation and have therefore had PLENTY of practice. Some people find their sass and seem better for it, but not me. It makes me antisocial and meaner than usual. So I haven't been doing anything much lately except for starting a bunch of projects that will hopefully keep me occupied until at least the middle of winter so there is not a repeat of last year's frozen despair. (It wasn't really that bad. I just got crabby and lazy and bored, along with everyone else.)
We'll make it through this one. I am determined.
Check out these ladies. It took a couple of listens before I was sure, but now I really like them. I have to admit, the fact that they play shows with John Maus (swoon) helped make up my mind. The fact that they are babes and sisters didn't hurt either. Fun fact #1 - They are singing in a made-up language! What a couple of nuts! Fun fact #2 - These sisterbabes were raised Hare Krishna, which explains a thing or two about their music.:
One of my fall/winter survival projects: I was commissioned to make a kimono-style dressing gown for a friend, which has been fun. I made a pattern from a kimono that I own (I am using the work kimono loosely, it is TOTALLY not traditional at all, made out of obnoxious red satin covered with palm trees) and donated my first attempt to the silent-auction fundraiser for The High Level Bridge's jaunt to the Sundance Festival. I kind of thought it would go for like, you know, twenty bucks or something, but someone actually forked out a nice chunk for it.
In true Amelia fashion, the fabric sat on my sewing table untouched for a week while I procrastinated:
I don't know if you can tell, but she picked out this beautiful dark green fabric. She's got dark hair and eyes and this is going to look beautiful on her.
I got this hot tip about cutting delicate fabric. If you trap it between layers of paper, it doesn't slide around and you don't end up with gnarly edges. It's true! It works!
I will post photos of the finished product once I have put all the trim and everything on it. So far so good though!
I am also working on a stop animation project. I am pretty excited about it. Despite the best of intentions, I haven't done any animation since the Rice Rocket video that Doug and I made in like, 2008 or something, so a follow up is well overdue. (Here's Rice Rocket, in case you didn't see it when I bragged all over Facebook about it back then:)
This one is going to be on paper, which, based on how it is going I think will take approximately 200 years to complete, but I am scoping out some technology to hopefully make the process a little quicker. It is going to be very cute, featuring hobos and bunnies, with soundtrack by The Elf.
Hey, check out how awesome this is. This person bought a vintage camera online and it came with undeveloped film in it from the 1940s:
http://riowang.blogspot.com/2011/09/hiroshima-souvenir.html
What an amazing find. I have score envy. Those photos are so beautiful, even that camera on its own is a great score. Those photos make me want to visit both Hiroshima and the 1940s.
So I went to Mr.'s parents' place for Thanksgiving and when I asked what I could bring, his dad had the most bizarrely specific request: Orange peel biscotti... Weird, right? Is that even a thing? Is that something that people crave?
Anyway, I was not about to disappoint my prospective pops-in-law so I did a little research and apparently it actually IS a thing, and even weirder, there are people out there who actually do things like candy orange peel themselves. And now I am one of those people. New job, new life. New cooking skills that will probably be used a total of once in my entire life.
Anyway, the recipe isn't terribly difficult and even though orange peel biscotti is not something that I would ever think of making on my own, they were actually pretty delicious. The orange peel/syrup in the batter gave them kind of a floral flavour in addition to the obvious citrus. Here is the recipe in case you want to play along (I lifted this from a blog called Brownie Points. I get slightly weird about anyone who identifies as a capital G Good Girl right off the hop, but I can't argue with those recipes.):
*Put on a frilly vintage apron for this, and some nice red lipstick. If we are doing this Betty Crocker shit, we'd better look the part.
Candied Orange Peel Biscotti
In a saucepan combine:
1/2 cup sugar
1/4 cup water
julienned orange peel from two oranges- no white stuff attached
It is also important to pour yourself a wine spritzer at this point. This recipe is a bit of a time commitment (at least compared to most things that I make, being a lazy and hurried cook), important to stay hydrated.
Also, maybe not a terrible idea to put on some goggles (extra points if they match your apron), as I discovered that removing the outer peel from an orange involves squirting a bunch of orange oil in your eyes, which is pretty uncomfortable. The upside is that your eyes will smell delightfully citrus zesty.
Please use the leftover HUMILIATED oranges for something nice. They look so sad. Sorry, guys.
One hundred years of chopping.
Stir to help begin dissolving the sugar, then cover with a lid and let the heat do the rest of the work.
Bring the mixture to a boil and gently simmer for 20 minutes.
Let cool 10 minutes in the pan and spoon the orange zest into a strainer (chopsticks work very well too). Let the orange flavored sugar syrup drip back into the pan (save this for the biscotti batter), and move the strainer of zest to hover over a piece of wax paper. Spoon granulated sugar over the syrupy zest while fluffing the zest with chopsticks. Continue to sugar and fluff till the zest bits are adequately coated and not too clumped up. Spread out on a cutting board and chop into small pieces.
Preheat oven to 350F.
In a large bowl mix together the dry ingredients:
1 1/2 cup of flour
1/4 tsp baking soda
1/4 tsp salt
Set this aside and combine:
1/2 cup of brown sugar
2 Tbs of softened butter
the syrup from candying the orange peel
Mix till the butter sugar combination is well incorporated. Then add while mixing:
one whole egg
one egg white
1 Tbs vanilla
the chopped candied orange peel
Scoop in the dry ingredients a bit at a time, stopping the mixer to scrape down the sides and bottom once.
Using a spatula, scoop the batter out onto a cookie sheet that is either covered with parchment or lightly sprayed with non-stick cooking spray. Form the dough into a log using a spatula and lightly flour dusted fingers, and squish down to about 3/4 inch tall..
Bake at 350 for 25 minutes, rotating the cookie sheet half way through.
While you are waiting, why not snuggle a puggle?
I had no photos of the last part of the recipe. I got really stressed out about the consistency of the batter (which turned out to be correct, so don't freak out) and forgot to record the process.
While the biscotti is cooking, twirl around the kitchen, make your man a dry martini, smoke a Lucky Strike and give yourself a Lysol douche. Justkiddingjustkiddingjustkidding! Don't do that last thing.
Remove and let cool. Using a serrated knife, slice 1/2 inch slices from the loaf, on a diagonal to ensure nice long slices. Lay the sliced cookies out on the cookie sheet and bake again at 200F for 30 minutes total (flip cookies over after 15 minutes) if hard cookies suitable for coffee dunking are desired.
Also, for extra cuteness, I drizzled some dark chocolate on them. They were yummy!
Mister and I do this weird thing in the morning, where we both pick up our phones and before we really say good morning or acknowledge to each other that we are awake, we check Twitter, Instagram and in my case but not his, Facebook. I know that it is probably kind of gross that we do that, but it is what it is. Anyway, I was peering at Twitter through one sleepy red eye and thought I must be dreaming;
That is seriously harder for me to get my head around than the Lou Reed and Metallica thing was. (Probably partially because, I am sorry to say this because I know it is frowned upon, I don't really like Guided By Voices that much. Commence with the death threats, indie rock spazzers.) The thing that is the best about this super weird cover is that it is GOOD. Like SO GOOD.
Sigh. Torche is my boyfriend.
You know what is not good? The rash of really embarrassing public displays of deep douchiness by various institutions in Edmonton. I try to avoid internet fighting (my own and others'), because I get too riled and stop sleeping and start being grumpy to baristas and boyfriends, but frankly I am fucking tired of reading Jezebel articles about how shitty Edmonton is, especially when radio contests, fake tits billboards, lipstick-mouth shaped urinals and so on make it really REALLY hard to argue that this city that I love is not a backwater cesspool.
Who knows? Maybe it is. Maybe Edmonton is that shitty ex-boyfriend that you didn't realize TOTALLY sucked until a year after you left him and then you're mad that you wasted your hot years defending him to your friends.
Anyway, I signed a petition to stop The Bear's 'Win A Russian Bride' contest and received this absolutely amazing letter in response, stating that I must not understand the contest and that it had a different name now, so I shouldn't be mad:
"From: "Vavrek, Rob" <rvavrek@astral.com> To: Amelia Shultz-McPherson <> Sent: Wednesday, September 21, 2011 11:16:21 AM Subject: RE: Close the WIN A WIFE contest and publicly acknowledge its inappropriateness
Dear Amelia, we apologize that you have taken offense with our current contest as that was certainly not our intention and no disrespect was meant through this contest. Unfortunately, there seems to have been some misunderstanding around the actual contest and what it entails.
The contest is being held in association with A Volga Girl, a serious and renowned company with offices in Canada. The company provides single and consenting adults, who have been screened and selected, the opportunity to contact and meet each other in the hopes of developing a serious relationship—a concept very similar to many other such contests held on reality-TV shows over the past few years around the world (i.e. - the Bachelor/Bachelorette). Rigorous selection criteria and principles of mutual consent, respect, and freedom of choice for each participant are at the very heart of this contest and all contests run by The Bear for its listeners and web users.
I also encourage you to refer to the contest rules by clicking here.
Also, to avoid any further confusion or misunderstanding regarding the contest, we have changed the name to Win a Russian Romance, as romance suggests an experience in which one has a chance to meet somebody in romantic circumstances, maybe even a soul mate. The contest consists of a trip to Russia and an introduction package with fully consenting adults. Nothing more is involved unless the willing and consenting parties agree to continue on and have a relationship on their own accord, a service that many online dating services provide such as Plenty o Fish, eHarmony, and Lavalife.
Once again we appreciate your comments and I can assure you all feedback from our listeners/web viewers is appreciated and held in the highest respect.
Warm Regards, Rob"
ARE YOU KIDDING ME??? GAAAAHHH!!!
So here is what I said to Rob. I was trying to make words through sputtering rage, so it is not as articulate as I wish it had been, but:
"Wow, thanks for the incredibly condescending form email. Believe it or not, I do, in fact, understand the aim of your radio contest and renaming it after the fact not make it any less gross. This response makes it even more so. I suspect that YOU don't understand. Edmonton is all over the international press these days because of things like this, and we are a laughing stock. I hope you are proud.
Citing shows like the Bachelor/Bachelorette, (which are both also classless sexist trash) doesn't do much to help your cause. I hardly think that the standards of the worst of reality television should be the standards you hold yourself to.
I am tired of trying to defend Edmonton against outside criticism when things like this undermine anything I could possibly say trying to lead people to the conclusion that Edmonton is not a backwater hillbilly outpost. Catering to the lowest common denominator hurts us all. You are so embarrassing.
Regards,
Amelia"
Help me, Edmonton. Help me love you.
One thing that IS totally great is that Dara Humniski, talent monster, got commissioned to to an installation in the Art Gallery of Alberta. Read about it here. Dara has been recognized internationally for her work with Loyal Loot, she makes the most Want-List worthy jewellery in the city, and it is really really awesome to see someone so gifted and hard working get such a sweet gig.
I guess all we can do is try to do as many awesome things as possible and hopefully the howling goons won't drown us out entirely or depress us out of town.
I know that this is the season that everyone freaks out and gets super active about making stuff, so it will all be okay. It just gets scary when it feels like the fuckheads are winning.
Also, if I don't stop being so pissed off all the time, I may have to start wearing head to toe glitter every day, just to be able to have nice feelings again. Sequin Queen! I need you!
Well. Yesterday was kind of the shits. Not in any clanging disaster sort of way, just sort of quietly not my fucking day, you know? I tried to work it out with a little retail therapy (didn't buy the faux leather party dress, but I DID pick up a rather scandalous skirt from the same line that is pretty cute) but for the most part things were not going as planned, and that stuck in my craw. I arrived back at the snuggle shack and checked the mailbox and SHAZAM! Day saved by the world's cutest mail presents from sweet miss Harriett, referred to hereafter as the cutest lady in all the land.
(I don't know if you can tell, but Royal Mail has shiny gold stamps and I am SO JEALOUS.)
If you have ever followed the million links I have posted to her blog, Bright Young Twins, you will know that she lives in a beautiful time warp and dresses in head-to-toe perfect vintage every day, and so of course she sent me perfect presents from the past.
So cute! Are you kidding me?!
Everything was wrapped in such precious little parcels that I barely wanted to open them up:
But then I got over it:
Pow! A tiny cute mirror, perfect because I have been fixing my lipstick in the cruddy smashed mirror in my old wallet and thinking about BAD LUCK every time. Pearl necklace in my favorite colour ever with a matching beautiful enamel and rhinestone thistle brooch and coolest of all, a collection of 1950s pinup temporary tattoos! So sweet! I had no idea that temporary tattoo technology went that far back. Now we know.
So. Thanks and a million hugs and kisses to Harriett for saving the day with her kindness and impeccable taste.
It always becomes obvious when I have started to absorb the fact that cold times are coming, because I hole up and get crafty. Usually that involves taking on large projects for which I have absolutely none of the required skills at all (remember when I was going to design a full line of lingerie? WHAT?) The Mister's sister is having a little she-baby in December and I decided to get granny about it and make a baby quilt.
I have no idea how to make a baby quilt.
But I'm trying. I picked fabric, which was harder than I actually thought it would be, as fabric stores are overwhelming, especially to impulse shoppers like me... There is a lot of pink, which I was a little conflicted about, but the mom-to-be is into girly things, so I thought I would save my nudging of gender stereotypes for when I buy the chick a drum kit for her 3rd birthday.
So, pretty pink it is:
I quickly realized that making a quilt requires quite a bit of precision. I am not very good at precision.
So far it seems to be working.
So far, no major disasters. I am hoping the slight crookedness comes off as charming, rather than pathetic. I think I am going to make some cute hearts or stars or something and attach them on top of the patchwork background to break it up a little, surround the whole thing in a seafoam green border and I think that will be it.
(Sorry about the fuzzy photo, that thing was hanging off my ironing board and it was hard to get a reasonable shot). Anyway, so there's that.
This weekend is going to be so good. So busy, but so good. I am really looking forward to Bob Log III at New City. He hasn't brought his cocaine stomp to dirt town for so long, and although I seem to recall getting into a bitchy fight with an ex about whether or not I was allowed to comply with Bob's request to have the audience ladies flash their racks, I think that this time around will be better, now that there is no one contesting ownership of my boobs. Also, I wish I could sit down and have a chat with 2003 Amelia. I could have saved that chick an ocean of trouble.
On Saturday I'm starting out at the final Wet Secrets show before lovely miss Donna Ball leaves us for true love, which is patiently waiting for her in Glasgow. I selfishy wish she'd stay forever, but moving across the world for love is wicked romantic and really we are all so happy for her.
After that I am going to see Black Thunder with the Get Down at New City. When Brontoscorpio played that Beatroute thing in May, Black Thunder played the afterparty and I almost lost my mind when I heard them. They look like IT nerds and sound like total shredding rock and roll destruction. Seriously, their drummer may be my new favorite and that is saying something. I highly recommend that if you are around you should check it out. The only video I can find of Black Thunder does them no justice whatsoever, so you're gonna have to take my word for it. Also, the Get Down is awesome every time, as we know.
Perhaps a hot rock infusion will cure me of my need to make fluffy pink quilts, at least for a little while. Sometimes it's like I don't even know myself anymore.
Recipe for specialty drinks for Friday and Saturday:
26 oz whiskey
Serve in 1 oz glasses at regular intervals throughout the evening.
Montreal ladies have been getting busy... Myrtle and Pearls (superfox Genevieve Savard) just released her look book for next season: http://myrtleandpearls.blogspot.com/2011/09/catalogue-look-book.html
I also hear that Ursa Minor Studio (Elizabeth Hudson, who I miss like crazy ALL THE TIME) is launching some new pieces to make me die from all the wanting (handcut leather skirt, once my Europe debt is less life threatening, you will be MINE. We were made for each other... don't fight it.)
These are not Ursa Minor, they are Miu Miu, but look at how much I should have these for fall times:
And I also just want you to look at my favorite line ever; Boudoir Queen:
If I could pull off this aesthetic, I would buy out this whole collection and dress like this every day: http://www.theboudoirqueen.com/
Speaking of talented babes, still haven't totally recovered from the screening of The Passion of Joan of Arc at the new Metro theatre (formerly the Garneau). The film itself was beautiful. Filmed in 1928 by director Carl Theodor Dreyer, featuring an unknown street performer as the lead (who apparently had an emotional breakdown afterward and never appeared in another film ever again... ROMANTIC!), it is all oppressive camera angles, expressive faces.
The soundtrack, played live by Smokey and crew, was the part that was really a gutpunch though. God, they did it just right. I am so fucking haunted. I actually almost had to leave at one point. The film was so weighted with heavy anxiety and the musicians were not going to make it any easier on us and it got hard to breathe. I hope that they are freaking out about how talented they are right now. They held everyone in that theatre captive for an hour and a half, and then turned everyone into the street with their heavy feelings. We all had to have a howling smash dance party afterward, to recover.
Remember these awesome guys? This band was my favorite circa 2001:
On Friday I did my girlfriendly duty and worked the merch table for Christian Hansen and the Autistics at the Dinwoodie. The most hilarious part of the night was that there was this guy there who kept telling me over and over that he was on The Bachelorette, and then telling me that he wanted to beat up all of the nerdy university kids there (he called them something else that I shall not repeat). He gave me a beer after that, which was confusing, because I was fairly openly hostile, but he's one of those dudes that mistakes a lady stuck behind a merch table for a lady who's hanging out nearby because she is SUPER INTERESTED in hearing about your reality TV career.
He got kicked off part way through the first episode.
Anyway, at the end of the night he decided he was going to teach me how to hustle tshirts, because I was apparently not trying hard enough to scam school kids out of their money and I had to get pretty clear about what I thought about that and he oozed off into the night.
Kind of depressing though, it seems like reality TV contestants are the new child stars. Like, really? Being on a spin-off show (that I think no one watches? Does anyone watch that show?) for 20 minutes defines your whole life now? Even though that guy was saying awful things and being really irritating, that is still really sad.
Ok. Here we are. The end.
It is beautiful autumn out now, and you know what that means? It means pass me the carbs, it's almost hibernating time. Sweet potato season is upon us and I, for one, am going to take advantage. Sorry vegans, this one's not for you, unless you want to sub the sour cream.
Sweet Potato Wedges with Ginger Dipping Sauce
· 2 lbs sweet potatoes, scrubbed and unpeeled · 3 tbsp olive oil · 1 tsp each Chinese five-spice, ground cumin, and ground coriander · 1 1/2 tsp salt · Pinch cayenne pepper · 2/3 cup sour cream · 1 tsp ground ginger · 1 tsp smoked paprika · 1 tbsp honey · 1 tbsp fresh lime juice
· Preheat oven to 425 deg. F. · Cut potatoes into equal-size wedges. Toss wedges with oil and spices and season with salt. Spread on a baking sheet. · Bake in the middle of the oven for 25 to 30 minutes or until tender and golden-coloured. Turn wedges over after 15 minutes. · For dipping sauce, stir together sour cream, ginger, paprika, honey and lime juice in a small bowl. Refrigerate until ready to serve with wedges.
Yum! Let's get so chubby together, bundle up in blankets and snuggle!
Any time a music website declares that they are excited about whatever Feist is up to, they immediately lose all credibility and I am prone to hate every other musician they feature.
I hate female singer-songwriters in general. I think this stems back to watching Alannis try to reinvent herself as a palsied malcontent who tells-it-like-it-is (a term for people who don't actually know what it is, let alone what it is like). Thankfully she namasted back out of the public eye, but god... she sucked for so many years! It seems like there is a resurgence, sort of, and it has made me fill up my iPod with metal, stocking up just in case like everything else about the 90s, the Imbruglia Kreviasuk vomitron wave comes rolling back to drown us in saccarine vagina ballads. I know I am not supposed to think these things, that I am supposed to, as a girl who plays music, raise a fist for other girls who play music, but I can't. I don't want to hear your sticky songs about your boring relationships.
I know there are a whole host of male singer songwriters that bring the heavy schmaltz, who are the new rom-com soundtrack staples, who make my butt clench with embarrassment any time I accidentally catch the lyrics they are singing. I know that. All I am saying is that I see a trend, and that trend is GROSS.
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Anyway, speaking of music, last night the mister and I dropped in at The Audio Department's grand opening party to check out Nik Kozub and Terry Tran's new space. It RULES SO HARD! It is so gigantic, and really really nice. They have loads of gear and it is really well set up. They must be so happy. The party was really cute. A little sausage-y, but I think that's how it goes. Many many cute pals. It was nice to be out in public with my man. That barely happens. As a non-drinker, he is rarely interested in doing the same things I am, as what I am often interested in doing is getting slurry and acting like a dick, but it was really cute to go out in public and hold hands. Anyway, The Audio Department site is here: http://theaudiodepartment.ca/site/
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Short one today! No recipe! I have to go and be the merch muffin at a show at Dinwoodie tonight. Time to transform from office schlub to glamourrrrrrr!!
Oh yeah, speaking of which, I found this super cute faux black leather party dress and I contemplated it for a really long time and ended up leaving it. Please answer me this: Am I too old to wear a faux leather party dress? I honestly can't decide.
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Ok, that's all. I will leave you with this classic gem:
