My Favorite Day of the Year...

Let's all get drunk tonight. (Hell yeah) I hope I don't fight with a punk tonight.

(C'mon) Let's all get high tonight...

~Afroman, Let's All Get Drunk

Apparently today is the most unproductive day of the year, according to scientists. I'm not sure how true this tidbit of information is, considering I read it on someone's facebook status, nevertheless, I proceeded to spread it around the office as fact.

The funny thing is that the second I let this wonderful news be known, the office seemed to slow down immensely. A true self-fulfilling prophecy in action, my friends. I'm proud to say I was the facilitator of this scientific experiment, and the results are astounding. Obviously, because I'm a biased variable in the experiment, I did everything in my power to ensure the results reflected my hypothesis and proceeded to watch all 88 minutes of The September Issue online. I won't go into a raging review of a film you probably don't care about so I'll just state my adoration for Grace Coddington and my unrelenting urge to set a team of hairstylists on her with a flat iron.

In other news, as my bestie Anna's maid of honor, I had the duty to throw her a kick ass bachelorette party this weekend. We did throw her a weekend getaway this past summer, but as the big day approaches, it was urgent that we get her to break her throw-up free streak. Without going into details, I am proud to say we succeeded by 12:30am. Kudos to the team, I couldn't have done it without you gals.

Nightmare on my street (undisclosed)

Wendy? Darling? Light, of my life. I'm not gonna hurt ya. You didn't let me finish my sentence. I said, I'm not gonna hurt ya. I'm just going to bash your brains in.

-Jack Torrance

I woke up this morning in tears after having a disturbing dream about something completely out of my control. Something that I've been struggling with since March. I know that this is something I need to get over. I know this is something I need to deal with. I know this is something that I need to plough through.

Now will someone please tell this to my subconscious? I'm tired of it. Don't f**k with my sleep now too.

How do you tell your mind to let something go when you have convinced yourself into believing you already have?

Uuugh. Hate.

Anywhoswho…this week should provide a much needed break from the routine as my office prepares for fashion week. I'm fully expecting a week filled with eccentrics, social butterflies, creatives and even those cringe-worthy poseurs. I'm looking forward to just stepping back and enjoying the show. It's hard not to get caught up in the ohmigod-it’s-the-end-of-the-world mentality, but I've come to terms with the fact that it is not and frankly, I don’t care! I'm sure neither do you, so I move on.

This weekend, Liv, Rosa and I were trying to figure out how to spend Saturday evening. We filled our travel mugs with booze and coffee and headed towards to local mental institution, otherwise known as one of the city's most haunted grounds. We plunked down $12 and entered the site filled with lunatics, children who were butchering the human anatomy and creepy silent girls in nightgowns. Our one rule (self-imposed) was that none of us was to ditch any of the others no matter how scared we got. That lasted about 12 seconds. As I was being chased by 6 guys with chainsaws and a ghostly young girl I trampled over Rosa, pushed Liv outta my way and sprinted back and forth through the labyrinth of horror. Why we thought this was a good plan escapes me, but why we thought we should get buzzed beforehand puzzles me even more.

Maybe this explains the nightmares. Dumbasses.

Click on this link to see why I make poor choices in life. And yes, my mother is proud.

I'm so lazy, I developed a lazy eye

Hang out with me, well watch the trees and yawn till dawn, and never sleep

Just hang out with me, enjoy the breeze, we'll make believe the whole world's lazy,

So lazy, so lazy, yeah!

-Kevin Johansen

Why do I experience mini anxiety attacks every time I think of updating my blog? I've become that unreliable blogger who is constantly making excuses and waiting till later to do anything. Actually, that's kinda how my whole life has become these days. Have to pee? I'll wait till later. Want a new job? I'll apply later. Tired of feeling like a fatty? I'll work out later.

My friends, I just realized how truly profound the title of this blog was when I randomly chose it back in the olden days (you know, when I drove a horse n' buggy). Such a lazy mo-fo, I am.
The other day, Chris and I were talking about how I have the most amazing resources to work with, an extensive list of contacts to choose from and how easy it would be for me to start a side project that would feed the hungry hungry hippo in my soul. As I slid off the couch pantless onto the carpet to roll around and stretch I thought, "yeah, you're right" followed by "I'll do it later…." and flipped the TV to Dr. Phil's abusive siblings episode. I'm gross guys. Seriously disturbingly gross! (and also, I think I may have been an abusive sibling back in the day…)

After a morning at work filled with youtube-ing and facebook-ing, I realized that I learned absolutely nothing new--other than the balloon boy's Poppa may be a lunatic--I found these videos made by a group of Toronto kids (adults with kid-like charm) exploring the art scene. Sounds B-O-R-I-N-G, yes? NO! they are shitpiles of hilarious and make me want to do something similar. Shitpiles? Whatevs, keeping it.

I want to be a jokester, a creator, an ambitious 23 year old again.

I'll figure out where to start later. Right now, I'm having too much fun watching Rusty, the narcoleptic dog and this crazy throwdown on public transit.

That is good shit.

Ridin the waves...

I Gotta Feelin' That Tonight's Gonna be a Good Night...

- Black Eyed Peas

n.b Before you read this entry I am fully aware of the lameness of a post kind of about Pearl Jam headed by a Black Eyed Peas song. Whatever, I like it and it makes me not throw up when I drink too much, so suck it....

It seems that every time this blog is revived (which has actually been an embarrassing amount of times) I am on my way to a Pearl Jam concert. Tonight, is just that night. Pearl Jam will be playing my favorite outdoor venue in the city and I'll be skipping off work early to enjoy the rest of the sunshine before heading over to the park to drink beer and enjoy the show. I always find myself feeling a bit nostalgic when watching PJ play…I don't know if it’s the grunge, the beer, the smoke(s) or the company, but it seems to bring out the frizzy-haired, angst-ridden teenager in me. Note to self: Do not start an "angsty" fight with a stranger tonight. Do not start an angsty fight with a stranger tonight…Anna would murder me if she has to break up another fight betweeen me and 3 latino men…let's leave it at that.

Tomorrow, I'll be hosting my first ever annual (does that even make sense?) Slip n' Slide party at my crib (and I say crib, because it is literally the size of a crib). When my friends asked me what I wanted for my birthday this year, the first thing that came to mind was a Slip n' Slide. I don't know why, it just did. These are things I can't explain, nor do I understand why they happen. They just do. Just like when I asked for a Spirograph set I didn't know even existed anymore and have never used since.

Anyhooswho…

When I unwrapped my gift, not only did I get a Slip n' Slide, but I got a Super Wave Rider Slip n' Slide!! This bad boy comes complete with 2 tracks that you can race your inebriated friends down to win the awesome game of "I bruised my ass and may have to call in sick tomorrow!" Let me tell you that what ensues can only be described as anarchy of biblical porportions. Hopefully it will stop fu**king raining for 3 minutes this summer so that my pasty white body can slide down the track and into my garden like it's meant to.

The guest list includes such rich old characters as Anna, Liv, Greg, Jessica, Chris (who I am now married to--I know, what the what!?!)…snoop through my archives if you need a refresher. Or don't. What do I care.

Here's the wave racer…It's pretty much the same, but minus the posessed kids and add me in a bathing suit pouring champagne on myself while tripping jessica.

Sometimes you just feel like it, ok?

Sometimes you just feel like writing. It's been a very long time for me. I feel the urge creeping up again. Now if only I can find the right way fuel that spark without feeeling bogged down by the whole idea. Way too much to look back on since the good old days, but maybe I can take this project forward, rather than back and begin from now. Here's to starting again. Missed you.

Brothers Jonas

Outside my office right now are thousands of screaming girls fanatically jumping around in anticipation for the brothers Jonas.

Exhibit a)

Apparently the Jonas brothers are the latest Disney (?) craze to hit the tween market and they, much like their predecessors have vowed to remain virgins until marriage. Kudos. Now will somebody please tell these boys that:

1) anal counts

2) they have more in common with Richard Simmons than a savvy sense of style

Seriously, the hair, the outfits, the baby smooth skin, the vow of celibacy. Draw your own conclusions.

Now on to other, more important matters. I am off to Miami next week on a work assignment (read: covering Swimwear/Bikini week). I am happy that 1) I will finally leave the city for the first time in what seems like forever and 2) I get to go with one of my fave work colleagues. Sweet. Let the good times roll. I am not happy that 1) I will be staring at 14 year old swimsuit models all week while my alcohol bloated gunt rubs against my jeans and gives me perma-rash.

Must not forget to bring baby powder to diffuse the friction.

Hope you all had a very happy Canada day and happy 4th of July for all my friends down south.

Peace out.

Neither "New" nor "Kids"

You're so gay and you don't even like boys. No you don't even like, No you don't even like, No you don't even like boys.

-Katy Perry

There are certain quirky things about me that I don't mind admitting, even though they may cause my cool factor to plummet to the depths of the earth. Things like my strange obsession with a really bad Canadian show from the eighties aimed at teenagers or my inability to do the double kiss on the cheek thing without creating an embarrassing situation (i.e. Going the wrong way and kissing the person on the mouth or bumping into the person's nose etc.-which actually happened today-ow, my nose still hurts-fuck I'm a moron), or even my compulsive urge to stay put on the public transit-even when I know someone just farted-simply out of sheer curiosity. Relax, Judge Judy, you know you do it too.

This weekend my workplace held a massive outdoor awards show and I found myself trying to talk myself out of getting out of my cheeto stained track pants and into a cute little party dress…that is until I found out that a certain pop group would be making a comeback on the very stage that I was avoiding going anywhere near. Being around 12 million screaming 13 year olds is not my idea of fun, I could already see myself storming through the crowd of screaming girls, losing it and performing an ultimate fighting move on a child…but back to the matter at hand. It was announced that the New "Kids" on the Block would be performing at the event and in an effort to satisfy the fat little eight year old in me, I made a deal with myself that I would skip the show, crash the party and get a photo with the guys to add to my collection. There, I said it. I was/am obsessed with the NKOTB and was always jealous of Jessica's bed sheets when we were kids. Relax, Judge Joe Brown, you know you love(d) them too.


Anyways, I picked up a dress off the floor of my room, smoothed down my hair and hopped on the subway down to work. I walked by the stage just in time to see this. I was speechless. My world came crumbling down. I immediately laughed at the 5 men dressed in white stomping around the stage singing about summer love. They were neither "new" nor "kids" in fact and I'm afraid, as Katy Perry would say, "they're so gay and they don't even like boys…." Nevertheless, they were totally nice and really quite funny-I think even completely aware of how ludicrous the concept of a NKOTB comeback is.

Long story short, I walked up to the lounge and snapped these pics. Don't hate, appreciate.