hurtin' song

this post in in no way a reflecion of my current state of mind. i'm feeling quite wonderfully peachy at the mo'. life in love is good. i'm just inspired by a recent Babble thread & determined to spread a little "Meat Purveyors" gospel. couldn't google the lyrics to my all time fave heartbreak song - so i figured i'd transcribe 'em myself and post them for all to see. yeah, all 2 of you.

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Circus Clown by The Meat Purveyors
from the album "All Relationships are Doomed to Fail"

I kept the plates spinning as long as i could
things just got worse and they never got good
as my whole world started to crack
i heard someone laughing behind my back

do i look like a circus clown to you?
does this look like a painted on frown to you?
yer so amused
i just feel misused
do i look like a clown to you?

take a tumble, take a fall take a kick in the pants
people shoot at my feet and tell me to dance
as i stand in the big ring disgraced
i see you in the crowd with a smile on your face

do i look like a circus clown to you?
does this look like a painted on frown to you?
yer so amused
i just feel misused
do i look like a clown to you?

step right up, come on in, get your money's worth
it's the greatest, oldest show on earth
sit up front for the very best view
as a man saws a woman's heart in two

do i look like a circus clown to you?
does this look like a painted on frown to you?
yer so amused
i just feel misused
do i look like a clown to you?

life's gotten in the way of bloggin'

so yeah....

i haven't posted in almost 2 months.
this is my feeble attempt at generating content:

i don't know about you, but i've got to work on my hallowe'en costume. it'll be hard to top last year's "virgin sacrifice" disguise.

childish things

being a kid came with it's own set of perks. the things i miss most about being a child are:

• my lunch box.

i had this stamped tin lunchbox from Disney World. precious lunch treats fit so neatly inside. i made my own sandwiches starting in Grade 5. stacked high like dagwoods with the tomato kept separate until noon to prevent soggy bread.


• summer camp.

being sent away for a week of frolicking is the kid equivalent of a cruise - the food just isn't as good. mandatory CPR training aside it was a blissful whirlwind of games, campfires, crafts, swimming and an intense day long capture the flag tournament. i even had spending money to could buy a Big Turk bar at the tuck shop every day!


• comfort food.

oblivious to trans fats, polyunsaturated oils or cholesterol i devoured the comfort foods of my childhood with gusto. macaroni & cheese with tomato, french onion soup, fried danish (i blame my dad), scalloped potatoes, grilled cheese.....



• flashlights.

my sister and I could get hours of entertainment out of a flashlight. we'd wave it back and forth really fast to produce a "strobe light" effect and each take turns dancing, jumping around and just making a spectacle of ourselves.


• the pink velour hoodie.

a daylong hug packaged in pink, white and burgundy stripes. so soft and comfortable was that shirt that we had to be forcibly separated.

crusty

I haven't been my usual "peppy self" in a while. I've no longer got a perma-grin glued on. People (apparently) are starting to talk. I think the old me was more Julie the cruise director meets Vegas showgirl meets Pollyannaish motivational speaker. Not pretty. Crusty, by comparison, is great.

Especially if it's the french bread kinda crusty.

quotesmosis

Conversation at a recent pool party potluck quickly degraded to pop-culture references and tv quotes. Folks who hadn't watched Napoleon Dynamite were able to pick up on vague references to llamas and one-sided ponytails while I was able to navigate the Simpsons lexicon without having seen a show in 7 years. In describing this phenomenon, and misunderstanding what Paul Gross was saying from across the coffee table we came up with a word for this phenomenon: Quotesmosis.

Firestation 13

at 2:15pm last Thursday i saw a firefighter sitting in front of the station at Laurier and King Edward. Strapped to an office chair with duct tape and smeared with whipped cream the guy appeared helpless but having a fairly good time. at his feet was a sign that said " this guy is getting married soon. save him". sure, maybe i'm supposed to chuckle at this pre-nuptial hazing but all i could do was scowl at the groom's buddies, sitting just inside the doors and laughing.

"save him from what? marriage"?

oh please.

vanilla ice cream

....or as we call it around our house "ass cream".

My fave flavour has always been vanilla. No bells and whistles to distract from the creamy mouth-feel of sweet lickery goodness. When ice cream is in question I am a purist - cream, milk, sugar, egg yolks & vanilla. That's all. Chunks of coagulated cookie dough, waxy chips of chocolate, ribbons of syrupy fudge or frozen nut hunks can easily cover up a sub-par product.

Lois & Frimas has a vanilla that deserves only to be languidly licked from a cone. No chintzy paper cup and plastic spoon. Order a waffle cone if you are a size queen like me. Stand or sit still, don't continue on to your next errand, read or distract yourself - that would be like answering a cell phone call on a first date. Start with the drippy parts first. Slowly draw your tongue across the almost-melted surface, lapping up sliding richness and cool tingles. Always lick spiralling upwards to draw the liquifying goodness away from the cone - you want it to remain firm and crispy until the end. Swirl, circle and slurp until the icy confection has been consumed. You could toss the edible container without much bad Karma, but I suggest you nibble the cone until your hand is free.

the power of one finger

i'm typing left-handed these days. i've developed a photoshopping injury that's rendered my right hand nearly useless for typing. my right shoulder is an inch lower than the left. my neck and shoulder seized up forcing me to turn my head like batman. all from one finger! just when i start to think that maybe my blog no longer exists solely for the purpose of my posting on other blogs i get carpal tunnel.

since when am i an activist?

i'm lots of things, social organizer, mom, party grrrrl, artist, wife, slut, glitter queen .... but who'd a thunk i'd become a cycling activist? this past weekend makes it official though. i'm a bike bug, a two-wheel instigator, a vehement velocipedist.

here i was - 8:45am on a Saturday - parking my bike in a metered spot in the busy Byward Market. within minutes my husband, daughter and I are confronted by two street embassadors, 3 angry drivers, a bylaw officer and a curious CBC radio reporter. we stood our ground. i did most of the talking and in the end we got a second bylaw parking cop acknowldging that the law was on our side and the protest could go on all day if we liked. yeee haw! the parking meter par-tay was a success. a total of 5 more cyclists showed up along with Radio Canada radio and TV interviewers. we stood in the York Street parking lot and planned our next cycling events: Car Free Day, the Beach Parade, Pride Parade and the next parking meter party. More info on that - and where to join all the fun is here.

i want to park my bicycle

July 16th - 9am to 1pmish

Parking Meter Party in the Byward Market!
York Street between Sussex and William St

all it takes is a fist full of quarters and a bicycle....

The plan:

Roll onto York Street in the morning when the parking spots aren't all
yet taken, and park. One vehicle per spot as per regulations.

Feed the meter then park yourself in a lawn chair with a cooler, music,
astroturf, carpet, whatever. Done "en-mass" we'll effectively (and very
legally) transform a "place for cars" into a "place for people". We'll
stick to posted time limits & rotate every two hours to a different spot!

We'll have lemonade, homemade treats and copies of the parking
regulations for anyone who happens by!

nice day for a bike wedding

my love and i got married.

not only do i feel all those things that friends told me i'd feel, "it just feels right", "you just know" and various vagaries meant to pinpoint your soulmate, it was also freaky good timing. June 10 - the 2nd anniversary of same-sex marriages becoming legal in Ontario - was the first available time for our kinda-last-minute civil ceremony.

the justifiably exalted stubbie bottle 

wherefore art thou stubbie

Last night my love restocked our fridge with our fave brewskie - Waterloo Dark. Something in Waterloo has gone distractingly askew. Our beloved beverage is now imprisoned in plain jane tall neck bottles! Tastes the same, sure - but the effect of drinking from an old school stubbie bottle is part of the mystique!

I'm seriously shopping around for a new brew. Suggestions?

hot pink fishnets

worn amidst full 80s regalia
and fuck-me boots
my big birthday
party
of several happy hours
favourite lychee martinis and succulent sushi

love spilling over table

(thanks to p kapoor)