Free Crap Cleaner Rave

Confession. I have pc problems. It's true. I have another confession. I have no patience when it gets slow. None. You'd think I would since I am a mom, but nope. I have none. zero, zilch, when it comes to the computer. So, a friend passed on this little link to me, and I am bowing in worship at her feet. This little tool cleans up my pc, dumps all the crap (i.e. poop, in honor of the blog) and makes it run like new again.

So, I have to share. Enjoy!

Crap cleaner

General Poop

It's storytime. Gather around, grab a pillow, make yourself comfortable.

Scooby Doo is fantastic eater. He really is. He absolutely loves veggies. Green, red, yellow, orange, he's not picky. He loves fruit. He loves almost any food.

Currently, his favorite food seems to be *drumroll* HOT DOGS. What is it with boys and weiners? (Of course, Jellybean likes tacos, but that's a different story). He has never specifically asked for any food by name before, even if he didn't say it quite right.

Tonight's menu: hot dogs, Kraft blue box, and peas n carrots.

Jellybean stuck her nose up at the veggies of course, declaring in her loud, preteenish whine "I'm NOT eating dinner!" to which I happily responded, "Good, more for me and Scooby then." Scooby must have heard this exchange because boy did he chow down.

He ate 2 hot dogs. The mac n cheese. Even cleaned his plate of peas n carrots. Then, he asked for "mo pease." I loaded up the peas n carrots for him. He stopped and looked at me, and said "hot dog!" quickly followed by "pease!" So, he is downing his 3rd hot dog, and devouring his peas n carrots.












Going, going, gone...












He wants dessert! 3 hot dogs, 2 helpings of peas n carrots, and mac n cheese, and he still has room for more? Ok, so orange jello it is. With a side of John Deere Tractor shaped fruit snacks. All at once of course.









Even after he finished off the last tractor, and pushed his jello to the side, he still wanted more, with cries of "piffies!" echoing through the kitchen. This is a job only Finding Nemo can handle.










He even let me feed him the last of his jello. Grab a mop. I am a puddle on the floor.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Peace and quiet. Someone's sleeping gooooooooooooooood tonight.

Pull Quotes

I felt a little kooky wearing this today. Kooky or perhaps "erotic grandma", as was described by a friend? I dunno, but it ended up being wholly inappropriate for the weather. I seriously had to go inside and put on my snow boots after taking this picture because I realized that Doc Marten mary janes were probably not the best footwear for trudging around snowbanks. Winter appropriate clothing is totally overrated, no? I'd much rather be a chilly rainbow snowman...

A Poop by Any Other Name

Scooby Doo talks in one word sentences that are often only understood by myself, his sister, or his dad. Once in a while his grandma can understand him too. The problem is, he really should be saying more then he does. It's hard for me to compare him because his sister was speaking fluent sentences at his age (28 months), so I called in the big dogs.

Today was his big evaluation. He passed his gross and fine motor, sensory, and receptive language skills with flying colors. He even charmed the girl who was playing with him. He had his pillow under his head, his favorite blanket tucked around him, snuggling his beloved Tigger, and sipping contendedly from his sippy cup while watching the weird creatures on Yo Gabba Gabba dance around, from the perfect contentment of her lap. Despite his obvious attempts to swoon her, it was decided that he did indeed need some expressive language help, and we signed on for 6 months of Occupational/Speech therapy.

And I thought women liked men who knew how to be quiet?

Mesmerizing to you.

As I embarked upon a long day of studying wearing nothing but layers of grey jersey, I thought "hey, how about NOT looking like shit today?" and quickly changed into this. I thought the Pucci print was relevant because Milan Fashion Week is starting soon!

The living room table in my apartment has been turned into a temporary study war zone. Paper everywhere, but the peppermint tea and computer make it all okay.


So this book company sent me a book called 'The Lumby Lines' about a town in the Pacific Northwest, which is cool because I plan to move to British Columbia when I graduate and then the OLYMPICS are happening there (GO TEAM CANADA!! Who watched the hockey game last night. We dominated Russia, it was awesome!) and then it is all close to Seattle and Olympia which is awesome because of grunge/riot grrrl etc. Anyways, no idea why this company keeps sending me books (I can barely keep up with the required readings for school!) but I guess its okay with me.

Pint sized poop

I've heard that being 2 is hard, but, I think it's a lot of fun. I mean when else can you get away with singing "la la LA" in ear drum bursting frequencies at the dinner table? or putting ice cream in your sister's hair just because you can? and how about putting ice cream in your own hair and rubbing it in really good and giggling about it?

Laughter. That's what I love about being 2. Life is full of laughter because everything is funny to a 2 yr old.

Idaho

For this super funky hippy art class I'm taking, I had to create something based on what animal I believe that I resemble the most. I chose to create an outfit based on a peacock, 'cause we're both vain/appearance oriented (hey, isn't admitting it the first step to recovery?). The plaid shirt and Navajo-print skirt fit in with the blue-green peacock-y colour scheme, and I added the sequins for a little extra flash. It's clearly the best class ever when I can take a creative outfit picture and I'll get marked on it.

Seriously, this class is insane. For part of the final project, I'm creating doll clothes that will belong to characters in a short story I have to write. One of the outfits I made is a dress covered entirely in fake flowers.

Education is the best.

Heavenly poop

Oh.my.God. My eyes are literally rolling back into my head. My mouth closes and freezes as my tastebuds savor the delicate flavors awakening them. It's like I am eating in slow motion because I don't ever want this taste sensation to end.

Tiramisu. I think I just had my first food orgasm. Need I say more?

It's not like I've never had it before. I have. I didn't really care for it then, though. Last night, for some reason, when we finished our meal at Olive Garden (my fave restaurant), I looked at my husband and asked him if I could take a piece of tiramisu home, you know, since it's my birthday and all.

Man, oh man.

I think I've died and gone to heaven.

What if I told you George Clooney was here, too, in tiramisu heaven, with me?

Have a hanky, you might want to catch that drool before it hits the floor.

From the Back of the Film

Every time I go home, I always make the effort to go thrifting. Usually I am greatly rewarded, but last week this vintage cardigan was my only good find. The sweater conjures up images of fishermen, Ireland, woolly sheep and musty books. So of course I wanted to amp up the sexy librarian vibe of it all with a pencil skirt, argyle tights and brogues. Please excuse me, I have books o file and people to shush.

Birthdays are the poop.

Everyone has to start somewhere, right? And not always at the beginning. Some stories start at the end. Some, like this one, start in the middle.

Ok. Technically, I'm off by one year, but who's keeping count? Certainly not myself. Anyway, happy birthday to me. Woohoo. 39.

Before you start blowing all those noisemakers and singing "For She's a Jolly Good Fellow", notice the face. Yeah. Not so jolly. (and what's with the fellow there anyway?). Far from excited.

I mean, let's face it. 39 isn't anything to write home to mom about. In fact, it is actually pretty scary when you think about it. It's one number less than 40.

Yeah. We are not going there.

So, I think I am just going to kick back, listen to the clock ticking those hours by, and smelling the goodness of those fat free blueberry muffins baking in my oven. I am going to dream of said fresh baked blueberry muffins, which, I can promise you, are NOT fat free in my dreams.

I'm going to dream of the spacious, never gets dirty historical pink and green Victorian with the Olympic sized heated pool in the backyard that my husband (who by the way looks like George Clooney's identical twin...MY DREAM PEOPLE!!) promises to buy me someday.

I'm dreaming that I have the world's most perfect children (literally I do. Except, most days I don't, but I'm working on that). Never a scratch, never a speck of dirt, perfectly polite and mannerly, never an angry outburst or toddler tantrum.

And I never, ever, ever raise my voice. (MY DREAM, PEOPLE!!)

Then... I wake up.

The 2 year old is crying under his door because he has a poopy diaper and his sippy cup is empty even though he's already pooped three times today (not to mention well past his bedtime) and had a refill on his cup, while the 9 year old ignores the "put the game away, lights out" requests, and George Clooney snores from the bedroom. (I can pretend can't I?)

C'est La Vie. Same poop, different day.

Sonata Arctica In The Dark Lyrics

 

Sonata Arctica - In The Dark ( Lyrics) 

I'm from where the magic is
I'll give you what I cannot take away with me
And my sunlit day and moon
I wanna have a silent kiss, I wanna make you mine,
I'm thinking how... can't leave me now
Stay with me somehow

You come from where the fire is, you give me what

you couldn't burn the last time
One sunless day and moon
I wanna be so close to you, see

6 feet 1

Hey all you crazy kids, I've kinda been taking a holiday this week. Mainly, my daily activities have consisted of; drinkin' tea, eatin' candy, watchin' the Olympics (but only the figure skating, and only for the sequin costumes), knittin' a sweater and doin' some homework.

So here is a story. When I was in high school, I would obsessively cut up magazines, take out my favourite pages and create these huge 'inspiration' books. I managed to fill up four of these composition books with amazing photographs, and they are so much fun to look back on. I can see just how much my tastes have changed and grown, as well as remember some of my favourite stories and editorials as a teenager. Sometimes reflecting on these things makes me feel old, but most of the time it just makes me nostalgic and happy. Here are some of my absolute favourite inspiration pages.

Sequins and Elizabethan ruffs in Teen Vogue

Meghan Collison for i-D magazine

My favourite editorial from i-D of all time.

Frances Bean Cobain in Teen Vogue

I had a brief yet strange obsession with jet packs in Grade 11.

Part of an ELLE Canada Valentine's spread and Iekeliene for Marc Jacobs.

Eisley, Kate Bush, Death from Above 1979

I was in looooove with this guy from the Marc Jacobs ads.

Hugh Jackman Height

Have you ever wondered how tall the studly "Wolverine" star is?

Well i did a little investigating and discovered his height is 6 foot 2 inches tall.

Find More Heights @ Celebrity Heights

You are shining some glory on me.

You know those disgusting t-shirts dudes wear with an arrow pointing up that says ‘The Man’ and then an arrow pointing in the opposite direction that says ‘The Legend’? Well, in my own mind I am ‘the man’ and my phoenix sweater is ‘the legend’. Seriously, I’ve worn it 38745 times on this blog and it never gets old (at least to me).

Further proof that the phoenix is a legend? I watched Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist (which tried to be a lot more clever than it actually was, in my opinion) and guess who else is wearing a phoenix? DEVENDRA BANHART. His cameo part featuring a phoenix sweater was actually the most memorable part of the movie. Seriously dude, I know you’re famous, but you’re stepping onto my territory! Not cool, Devendra.

Happy Valentine's Day!

In order to commemorate this fine day, I present to you a list of my favourite couples (past and present).

Kim and Thurston.

Bob Dylan and Suze Rotolo.

Kurt and Courtney.

Kate and Johnny.


Now go eat candy and be merry and try not to think about what Lindsay Lohan said before she turned into a crackmonster.

In Memoriam

Yesterday was a particularly miserable day, owing greatly in part to the passing of one of my personal favourite designers Lee Alexander McQueen. I tried to isolate myself by holing myself up reading magazines in Chapters and found myself particularly engrossed by the issue of RUSSH with Daul Kim on the cover - a simple yet sad reminder of how fleeting life can be. I really did cry yesterday, because I know what it feels like to want to die, and that some of the most fascinating people I've ever imagined have succumbed to that.

I'm wearing my Rodarte x Target dress today, because its reminiscent of the ribcage suitcase he designed for Samsonite - which is one of the most memorable things he has designed (at least for me).


Whenever I think of Alexander McQueen, the only world that really comes to mind is 'genius'. Every other adjective seems devoid of meaning. He created some of the most memorable moments that fashion has ever seen and was a true trailblazer. I will remember him as a master of leather, lace, schoolboy, royalty and everything that is quintessentially British. Please rest in peace, Lee Alexander McQueen.

Her Jazz

I would like to introduce you all to what is ostensibly my 'new favourite t-shirt'. Yes, it is based on the legendary Sassy magazine cover featuring Kurt and Courtney, and yes, it is the greatest thing ever. I think I'm going to start up my own girl gang and these shirts will be the uniform. Who's with me?

My official girl gang hand signs. Kurtney forever.

Since you're all probably wondering where I got this cotton piece of magic, you can get one at the Heartschallenger online store! It even came with free candy, just in time for Valentine's Day.


PS - As you all are probably aware, I am deeply saddened by the death of Mr. Lee Alexander McQueen. He was undoubtedly one of the most talented designers of my lifetime. I am devastated that he was no longer driven to create, but his body of work stands as a testament to his true creative genius. RIP McQueen.

Pink Panther

Its not Valentine's Day yet, but I felt like dressing up for it anyways. These knee socks are new and I just really wanted an excuse to wear them! For some reason, I've accumulated an obscene amount of buttons that I never wear. I just picked out all the pink ones (boots, vagina, tyrannicide! - what a weird combination) and stuck them on my dress to make the outfit appear more "quirky" and "interesting".


I really like my legs today.

Viva La 90s!

I don't really have time for pleasure reading, but I made an exception for "Girl Power: The Nineties Revolution in Music" by Maris Meltzer. Anyone who reads this blog will know that I love anything and everything from the 90s, so this book was really preaching to the choir! It's probably the most simple and comprehensive book you could ever read on the topic of riot grrrl and how it changed women's roles in music. Its only 145 pages, and I was so engrossed that I read it in one single sitting!

I have loved riot grrrl ever since I was 15. Its kinda cheesy but I'd say bands like Bikini Kill, Hole and Huggy Bear were formative and probably made me the person who I am today (all this was documented in a mega-post discussing "life-defining music"). Though I don't really listen to riot grrrl half as much as I used to, reading this book brought back so many memories of searching the internet and libraries for as much info on riot grrrl as I could possibly read. As a result, I had actually already read most of the articles that Meltzer references in the first chapter!

Growing up in the 90s, it was funny to think about how this music that got me through high school actually influenced the stuff I remember listening to when I was in Grade 1, like the Spice Girls! I always wanted to be Sporty Spice...

After reading it, I was inspired to channel my inner Kathleen Hanna!

In conclusion, Girl Power is an amazing read. Its the perfect primer if you aren't familiar with 90s music and want to know more.