Let me start off by saying I am not really "into" women's lib and all that left-wing B.S. That being said, I do think that women should be paid equal to men, that the males of the world should spend as much time cleaning our homes as we do, and that it's okay if a woman chooses to go back to work after a baby while her hubby stays home. I understand females want to be treated as equals - heck yes we do.
However, I do feel as though the saying "being treated as equals" has somehow cancelled out common courtesy where humanity is concerned.
This morning, while I work, I realized I had left a large game board out on the floor from a weekend promotion. No biggie - I'm strong and more than capable of moving it back in. However, having not been the one that moved it out in the first place, I didn't realize it was made of solid wood and wasn't exactly an "easy" piece to move. Alas, I do my best wearing 5 inch heels, a satin top and work shorts. Fine, I have no issue with this.
But this is what really got my goat.
One of our MALE security guards walks by. Walks back. Stands in front of me and watches. Doesn't even ASK if he can help. I am literally walking 2 inches at a time, shuffling along, trying to carry this huge wood board, and he watches. Stops dead in his tracks and watches.
And then, once I dragged this board the 50 feet by him (while he continued to watch) - I had to carry it down a flight of stairs. Of which he stood at the top of, and watched.
What on Earth is wrong with humanity? Female or male, high heels or flats, jogging pants or a suit - is it wrong of me to think you should always ask a fellow human if they need assistance? Particularly if it is obvious they are in dire need of an extra hand?
This isn't even me hate bashing on men - this is me hate bashing on civilization.
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Friday, June 17, 2011
What Did You Expect?
I have been formulating this blog post for weeks in my mind. Weeks. However, out of respect for my city I chose to hold off on posting it. Little did I know that the reality of the past 48 hours would only underscore the commentary I am about to have.
I hate hockey. I hate it. For a multitude of reasons.
I find it boring. Skate to one end of the ice. Skate to the other. Skate back. Stop. Skate to the other end. Zzzzzz...
I feel that the corporation of hockey is greedy - $250 for a ticket to a game? And then another $200 to buy a jersey with your favourite players name on the back? You're wearing a jersey with the logo for gawd's sake - that's free advertising - yet you're still gauging people right in the wallet to support you? Come on. This greediness has hurt my business immensely - on game nights our revenues are down significantly. I can market til the cows come home, but when there's no money in the marketplace for the public to spend, how will I ever succeed?
But the main reason I hate hockey is that it is unbearably violent. In my previous post I mentioned my heartache regarding violence used as entertainment - I do not think there is any place that the use of violence is more prevalent, than during a major league hockey game.
I will say, I generally do not watch hockey - ever. For the reasons stated above. But due to the playoffs and my home team being involved, I thought I'd try to sit through a game two weeks ago. It lasted 10 minutes. Within that timeframe, two players started beating the absolutely crap out of one another - it was truly disgusting. There's families at home, with young children, who are learning that violence is accepted? And what did he crowd inside the arena do? They cheered - people got up and started smiling and pounding on the glass like they had won the lotto. Since when is punching someone, biting them, kicking them a tolerated way to communicate?
Next time my assistant does something to bother me, maybe I'll smack her in the face and rip out a patch of hair. Yes, that's the way to communicate.
The images in the next day's newspaper were of fighting. Everyone thought that was excellent. I think everyone needs to give their heads a shake.
We were glorifying violence in the most obvious way possible.
As we all know, after Vancouver's loss the city was filled with rioters and looters. The majority of them young men in their late teens and early twenties. While I wonder where their parents are, I can't help but think, if they don't have a solid parent to have taught them from a young age that violence is not acceptable, how would they know any different? Don't get me wrong, I think those young men were vile, disgusting, heartless idiots who all deserve to be fined, thrown in jail, sentence to community service, etc. But I am making the point, that for months on end we glorified violence and the unimportance of life.
No one seems to be talking about the hockey game these days - they're talking about the violence. For weeks those around me condemned my thoughts on fighting during hockey games - guess I wasn't so far off in the end, was I?
I hate hockey. I hate it. For a multitude of reasons.
I find it boring. Skate to one end of the ice. Skate to the other. Skate back. Stop. Skate to the other end. Zzzzzz...
I feel that the corporation of hockey is greedy - $250 for a ticket to a game? And then another $200 to buy a jersey with your favourite players name on the back? You're wearing a jersey with the logo for gawd's sake - that's free advertising - yet you're still gauging people right in the wallet to support you? Come on. This greediness has hurt my business immensely - on game nights our revenues are down significantly. I can market til the cows come home, but when there's no money in the marketplace for the public to spend, how will I ever succeed?
But the main reason I hate hockey is that it is unbearably violent. In my previous post I mentioned my heartache regarding violence used as entertainment - I do not think there is any place that the use of violence is more prevalent, than during a major league hockey game.
I will say, I generally do not watch hockey - ever. For the reasons stated above. But due to the playoffs and my home team being involved, I thought I'd try to sit through a game two weeks ago. It lasted 10 minutes. Within that timeframe, two players started beating the absolutely crap out of one another - it was truly disgusting. There's families at home, with young children, who are learning that violence is accepted? And what did he crowd inside the arena do? They cheered - people got up and started smiling and pounding on the glass like they had won the lotto. Since when is punching someone, biting them, kicking them a tolerated way to communicate?
Next time my assistant does something to bother me, maybe I'll smack her in the face and rip out a patch of hair. Yes, that's the way to communicate.
The images in the next day's newspaper were of fighting. Everyone thought that was excellent. I think everyone needs to give their heads a shake.
We were glorifying violence in the most obvious way possible.
As we all know, after Vancouver's loss the city was filled with rioters and looters. The majority of them young men in their late teens and early twenties. While I wonder where their parents are, I can't help but think, if they don't have a solid parent to have taught them from a young age that violence is not acceptable, how would they know any different? Don't get me wrong, I think those young men were vile, disgusting, heartless idiots who all deserve to be fined, thrown in jail, sentence to community service, etc. But I am making the point, that for months on end we glorified violence and the unimportance of life.
No one seems to be talking about the hockey game these days - they're talking about the violence. For weeks those around me condemned my thoughts on fighting during hockey games - guess I wasn't so far off in the end, was I?
Monday, May 30, 2011
Isn't Reality Violent Enough?
BLOGGERS NOTE: I know, I know - I have not been writing at all lately. It's not because I'm not inspired, or because I have lost all of my opinion - it's because my laptop has died a horrific death. Well, not really - my monitor just stopped working. Completely and utterly gone black. So I've been sans computer for almost a month. This blogpost has been brought to you by Jared's laptop - which by the way is in almost as bad of a condition as mine - we better both get ready to purchase new computers...
Summer blockbuster season is here at the movie theatres - which is something I've never really understood. All winter the cinema's show snoozeworthy films (well maybe not snoozeworthy, but more intellectual films. IE - the Oscar-nominated movies), which is great...but I don't think I'm the only one who waits for these slower, more dramatic bad boys to come out on dvd or Video on Demand, right? Who wants to spend $20 to see a movie with no special effects, no crazy sound or soundtrack, on a giant screen; when you can get the same thing at home in comfort of your own living room?
Then the summer rolls around (and if you live in a city like Vancouver, we only really get 2-3 months of beautiful glorious weather, where we want to be outside and soak in the Vitamin D as much as humanly possible), and THEN the big films hit the theatre where it's dark, and sans-sun-exposure? I don't get it. Regardless, this is the way it goes...
Jared is most interested in going to see the new Pirates of the Carribean movie - okay, fair - I said I'd go with him (mostly because he came to see Bridesmaids with me a few weeks ago - HILARIOUS, I might add). Although for some reason, I remember I didn't like the last Pirates movie, but I could not remember exactly why.
I remember...
Last night we watched the last film on DVD. Within the first five minutes we saw multiple deaths - stabbing, shootings, poisonings,and of course there's the image of a female seductress getting shot between the eyes - blood and gore and all. Is this not a Disney film? I was truly disgusted and uncomfortable watching this film.
Open up a newspaper today. Read what's going on in the world.
Yes, we are extremely lucky to live in North America, which compared to the rest of the world is an extremely peaceful and safe place. But flip to the international pages of the Sun or Province and read what's happening - it's reality. Violence, shootings, bombings, suicide, inhumane treatment of life... this is the reality of what our brothers and sisters live in everyday just one continent away. Yet, our theatres glamorize this lifestyle and show it as a source of entertainment?
To me at least, Pirates of the Carribean is a family movie, I mean at Disneyland it is one of the most family friendly rides you can go on. I remember being a little girl and it was the only ride at Disney my Mom would actually go on. It was safe, it was fun - it was thrilling. There were no images of humans being hung to their deaths and being shot through the forehead?
I will say, I told Jared he will have to find someone else to go to see this movie with. While Bridesmaids was raunchy, there was no imagery of the glamourization of death. So to Kristen Wiig (writer of the girl flick, I say "kudos") and to Disney I must admit my shame on you.
Summer blockbuster season is here at the movie theatres - which is something I've never really understood. All winter the cinema's show snoozeworthy films (well maybe not snoozeworthy, but more intellectual films. IE - the Oscar-nominated movies), which is great...but I don't think I'm the only one who waits for these slower, more dramatic bad boys to come out on dvd or Video on Demand, right? Who wants to spend $20 to see a movie with no special effects, no crazy sound or soundtrack, on a giant screen; when you can get the same thing at home in comfort of your own living room?
Then the summer rolls around (and if you live in a city like Vancouver, we only really get 2-3 months of beautiful glorious weather, where we want to be outside and soak in the Vitamin D as much as humanly possible), and THEN the big films hit the theatre where it's dark, and sans-sun-exposure? I don't get it. Regardless, this is the way it goes...
Jared is most interested in going to see the new Pirates of the Carribean movie - okay, fair - I said I'd go with him (mostly because he came to see Bridesmaids with me a few weeks ago - HILARIOUS, I might add). Although for some reason, I remember I didn't like the last Pirates movie, but I could not remember exactly why.
I remember...
Last night we watched the last film on DVD. Within the first five minutes we saw multiple deaths - stabbing, shootings, poisonings,and of course there's the image of a female seductress getting shot between the eyes - blood and gore and all. Is this not a Disney film? I was truly disgusted and uncomfortable watching this film.
Open up a newspaper today. Read what's going on in the world.
Yes, we are extremely lucky to live in North America, which compared to the rest of the world is an extremely peaceful and safe place. But flip to the international pages of the Sun or Province and read what's happening - it's reality. Violence, shootings, bombings, suicide, inhumane treatment of life... this is the reality of what our brothers and sisters live in everyday just one continent away. Yet, our theatres glamorize this lifestyle and show it as a source of entertainment?
To me at least, Pirates of the Carribean is a family movie, I mean at Disneyland it is one of the most family friendly rides you can go on. I remember being a little girl and it was the only ride at Disney my Mom would actually go on. It was safe, it was fun - it was thrilling. There were no images of humans being hung to their deaths and being shot through the forehead?
I will say, I told Jared he will have to find someone else to go to see this movie with. While Bridesmaids was raunchy, there was no imagery of the glamourization of death. So to Kristen Wiig (writer of the girl flick, I say "kudos") and to Disney I must admit my shame on you.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Hey Government...screw you!
I haven't blogged for awhile - I haven't really felt that oomph of passion I need to write something that really means anything to me. I've got to have that gusto in my brain, to make something even remotely interesting pour through my fingertips.
Well I've got gusto now baby - I've also got passion... not that good, lively awesome passion, but an angry, fiery, irritated passion.
A passion I will be channeling in a little something called "Screw You Government".
I work two jobs - I'm not a lazy person. I've worked since I was 16 years old, always with a strategic plan to move my life forward in a positive way, that will allow me to afford the better things in life. As my blog has stated in the past, I've never had any misconceptions about wanting children - I don't want them. I also dont have much interest (right now at least) in playing big dollars on the stock market, or driving a fancy car around town. I do want to enjoy my life: invest wisely in Real Estate and my RSP's, while wearing clothes I adore, eating at fantastic restaurants and travelling the world.
So I work. Hard.
Last year I received some financial accolades for a job well done; very rewarding I might add. Although that reward was torn from me this week, when I received my completed taxes back from my accountant. I owe the govenment: not a little... but A LOT. A substantial amount of money. Money of which essentially needs to appear from thin air, as any extra money I have, I put against my Line of Credit, into Savings, or spend on fancy shoes (listen, life is better in good heels, okay???)
Now this is what pisses me off royal: I went back and looked at the tax that had already been taken off of my paycheques this year: I paid (before this most recent set of taxes) almost one quarter of my annual salary to the government. A QUARTER! How, on Earth, can I actually have to pay them MORE?
And I'm so sick of people saying "the more you make, the more you give to the government". You know, that's not really a sound explanation to me.
In January, my Grandmother passed away in the hospital. The Health System was an absolute disgrace to her in her final weeks. There were not enough nurses to assist her in her illness to help her to the washroom, so they just let her soil herself. It was awful and one of the most traumatic experiences of my life, listening to her talk in those weeks. And now, after going through that, and me giving them a quarter of a years salary, they can't do anything to repair the disarray with our healthcare? Trust me, a quarter of my salary for a year could afford a part-time caregiver in a hospital.
Yet instead of assisting other patients (and families) in need in our broken system, we are having another Federal Election? Are my tax dollars going into the funding that is supporting this waste-of-time election? Absolutely they are. If you look around the world right now, we are pretty lucky to live in Canada - while other countries are falling apart at the seams (Egypt, Libya, Iran, etc), we are looking pretty good here (at least on a political scale). So why not take the actual dollars, on top of the manpower, to actually contribute something needed to our society and country?
I truly would like to know where my hard earned money is going? It's certainly not going to Healthcare, or Education for that matter. And have you had an opportunity to pick up a newspaper and catch up on the scum our judicial system is letting roam free in our neighbourhoods? It's obviously not going to our court system either.
And I don't have a choice - I pay them the additional thousands of dollars they want, or I get the debt collectors after me. The way I look at it, the party that is in debt right now is our greedy government. In this case "debt" is not being defined in a financial matter, but as it is in the dictionary "something that is owed", and I think our government owes us an explanation as to the pathetic state of some of our most important issues.
Well I've got gusto now baby - I've also got passion... not that good, lively awesome passion, but an angry, fiery, irritated passion.
A passion I will be channeling in a little something called "Screw You Government".
I work two jobs - I'm not a lazy person. I've worked since I was 16 years old, always with a strategic plan to move my life forward in a positive way, that will allow me to afford the better things in life. As my blog has stated in the past, I've never had any misconceptions about wanting children - I don't want them. I also dont have much interest (right now at least) in playing big dollars on the stock market, or driving a fancy car around town. I do want to enjoy my life: invest wisely in Real Estate and my RSP's, while wearing clothes I adore, eating at fantastic restaurants and travelling the world.
So I work. Hard.
Last year I received some financial accolades for a job well done; very rewarding I might add. Although that reward was torn from me this week, when I received my completed taxes back from my accountant. I owe the govenment: not a little... but A LOT. A substantial amount of money. Money of which essentially needs to appear from thin air, as any extra money I have, I put against my Line of Credit, into Savings, or spend on fancy shoes (listen, life is better in good heels, okay???)
Now this is what pisses me off royal: I went back and looked at the tax that had already been taken off of my paycheques this year: I paid (before this most recent set of taxes) almost one quarter of my annual salary to the government. A QUARTER! How, on Earth, can I actually have to pay them MORE?
And I'm so sick of people saying "the more you make, the more you give to the government". You know, that's not really a sound explanation to me.
In January, my Grandmother passed away in the hospital. The Health System was an absolute disgrace to her in her final weeks. There were not enough nurses to assist her in her illness to help her to the washroom, so they just let her soil herself. It was awful and one of the most traumatic experiences of my life, listening to her talk in those weeks. And now, after going through that, and me giving them a quarter of a years salary, they can't do anything to repair the disarray with our healthcare? Trust me, a quarter of my salary for a year could afford a part-time caregiver in a hospital.
Yet instead of assisting other patients (and families) in need in our broken system, we are having another Federal Election? Are my tax dollars going into the funding that is supporting this waste-of-time election? Absolutely they are. If you look around the world right now, we are pretty lucky to live in Canada - while other countries are falling apart at the seams (Egypt, Libya, Iran, etc), we are looking pretty good here (at least on a political scale). So why not take the actual dollars, on top of the manpower, to actually contribute something needed to our society and country?
I truly would like to know where my hard earned money is going? It's certainly not going to Healthcare, or Education for that matter. And have you had an opportunity to pick up a newspaper and catch up on the scum our judicial system is letting roam free in our neighbourhoods? It's obviously not going to our court system either.
And I don't have a choice - I pay them the additional thousands of dollars they want, or I get the debt collectors after me. The way I look at it, the party that is in debt right now is our greedy government. In this case "debt" is not being defined in a financial matter, but as it is in the dictionary "something that is owed", and I think our government owes us an explanation as to the pathetic state of some of our most important issues.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
No Winning For Me.
As previously discussed on this blog, I love to shop.
Some people channel their creative energy through writing or poetry, dancing or drawing, Jared loves to channel his in the kitchen whipping all sorts of culinary treats. But for me, nothing gets my brain going and my energy flowing, like putting together textures and colours, fabrics and fittings, like fashion and shopping.
I even love going to the mall just to see how the visual departments put together the mannequins; I love it when I see a beautiful new touch to an outfit that I would never have thought of. And being that I love to shop so much, I generally have a way to make these things work, within my own closet.
But there is one thing, one place that is just against all my shopping practices: Winners. Even just writing the name makes my heart feel sad and my skin feel icky. Now, before I go into all the reasons I personally hate Winners - I will say most of the people in my life have some killer clothes from there. Jared gets some great belts and shirts from there; and my girlfriend Adrienne was rocking an adorable top from there on Friday night.
Last Monday, Jared wanted to stop into Winners to look around. A) I never stop at Winners. B) I never poke around at Winners. When I walk into that store it just makes me angry. Angry! It's a mess! And nothing ever seems to be "put away". There are no mannequins perfectly dressed to showcase their new stock; and there's no colour coordination as to where things are hung. Purses are in one portion of the store, shoes are in another - then there's the mishmash of perfumes and hats. Walking around that place is like a workout; no thanks - that's why I have a membership to She's Fit.
When I shop - I shop for the experience of it. I love going into a store and being helped. There is nothing like shopping at Betsey and coming out of the room - they do up your zippers, they bring you shoes in your size, they show you a minimum of two other ways you could wear the dress.
But I don't just shop at boutiques like Betsey (hello - I have a mortagage, car payment and bills, you know?). I also love to shop at Forever 21, H&M, hell, I even love to poke around at Suzy Shier - they've got some cute stuff, especially when they're displaying it on a mannequin. It's just fun.
Yes, I realize you can find some amazing name brand pieces at Winners. Which is what I REALLY don't understand... when we were there on Monday, I saw a beautiful white Versace dress. The fabric was satin, the stitching was impeccable... but it was hanging on a plastic hanger, in a big heap of $14 dresses. Seriously? If I'm buying Versace (which sadly I have not had the pleasure of doing at this point in my life), I'm buying it for the experience. I can only imagine trying it on in a beautiful change room, while Jared has a glass of bubbly, they'd bring me shoes and hold up my hair and when I went to buy it; they'd wrap it up in beautiful tissue paper, and ensure I've got a garment bag to store it properly.
If I bought it at Winners, I'd try it on in a messy change room, with no service, and carry it home in a white grocery bag. I even hear when you go to the changing room they give you a tag based on the number of clothing items you have so you don't steal anything. Wow. There's an experience I'm in no hurry to try: they're treating you like a criminal??
So while some of my friends rock they're cute jeans and adorable T's knowing they got a killer deal on them, I'll be rocking probably the same thing, but at least I know I had a killer experience.
Some people channel their creative energy through writing or poetry, dancing or drawing, Jared loves to channel his in the kitchen whipping all sorts of culinary treats. But for me, nothing gets my brain going and my energy flowing, like putting together textures and colours, fabrics and fittings, like fashion and shopping.
I even love going to the mall just to see how the visual departments put together the mannequins; I love it when I see a beautiful new touch to an outfit that I would never have thought of. And being that I love to shop so much, I generally have a way to make these things work, within my own closet.
But there is one thing, one place that is just against all my shopping practices: Winners. Even just writing the name makes my heart feel sad and my skin feel icky. Now, before I go into all the reasons I personally hate Winners - I will say most of the people in my life have some killer clothes from there. Jared gets some great belts and shirts from there; and my girlfriend Adrienne was rocking an adorable top from there on Friday night.
Last Monday, Jared wanted to stop into Winners to look around. A) I never stop at Winners. B) I never poke around at Winners. When I walk into that store it just makes me angry. Angry! It's a mess! And nothing ever seems to be "put away". There are no mannequins perfectly dressed to showcase their new stock; and there's no colour coordination as to where things are hung. Purses are in one portion of the store, shoes are in another - then there's the mishmash of perfumes and hats. Walking around that place is like a workout; no thanks - that's why I have a membership to She's Fit.
When I shop - I shop for the experience of it. I love going into a store and being helped. There is nothing like shopping at Betsey and coming out of the room - they do up your zippers, they bring you shoes in your size, they show you a minimum of two other ways you could wear the dress.
But I don't just shop at boutiques like Betsey (hello - I have a mortagage, car payment and bills, you know?). I also love to shop at Forever 21, H&M, hell, I even love to poke around at Suzy Shier - they've got some cute stuff, especially when they're displaying it on a mannequin. It's just fun.
Yes, I realize you can find some amazing name brand pieces at Winners. Which is what I REALLY don't understand... when we were there on Monday, I saw a beautiful white Versace dress. The fabric was satin, the stitching was impeccable... but it was hanging on a plastic hanger, in a big heap of $14 dresses. Seriously? If I'm buying Versace (which sadly I have not had the pleasure of doing at this point in my life), I'm buying it for the experience. I can only imagine trying it on in a beautiful change room, while Jared has a glass of bubbly, they'd bring me shoes and hold up my hair and when I went to buy it; they'd wrap it up in beautiful tissue paper, and ensure I've got a garment bag to store it properly.
If I bought it at Winners, I'd try it on in a messy change room, with no service, and carry it home in a white grocery bag. I even hear when you go to the changing room they give you a tag based on the number of clothing items you have so you don't steal anything. Wow. There's an experience I'm in no hurry to try: they're treating you like a criminal??
So while some of my friends rock they're cute jeans and adorable T's knowing they got a killer deal on them, I'll be rocking probably the same thing, but at least I know I had a killer experience.
Monday, March 21, 2011
“Disappointments are to the soul what the thunder-storm is to the air”
Having spent a good decade in the public eye (having been on the radio and now on horseracing television) I have been called plenty of things. A lot of which have not been good.
Funny enough, I can remember most of them... some all time favourites:
- babbyling barfbag
- stupid
- idiotic
- useless
Oh and then there's been so doozy comments as well, my all-time faves being that I slept my way to my job(s)... because clearly I didn't get to where I am on my own merits.
I generally take these comments as a compliment - anyone who's in media knows they haven't made it until they've been slammed on a public internet forum for the world to see. I think it's similar to a star being featured in Fashion Police - it's like a hazing, when you know you've finally made it!
Generally these comments bother me for an hour or two, I have a little piss-off and then get on with my life (because let's be honest, if these people were so awesome they'd be DOING what I'm doing, not WRITING about it, right?)
But yesterday something happened, that bothered me so deeply I was upset the entire day - close to tears even thinking about it. Something that bothered me on a level I am not used to feeling... my parents told me they were "disappointed" in me.
No words have ever hurt so deeply.
Anyone who knows me, or has read this blog, or my facebook page, know that they are the two most important people in life (along with Jared), and that I would do practically anything they asked of me.
I told my father last week, that I would do his Sunday morning run with him. He's training for his first ever Sun Run10km and I'm so proud of him. But I also told him, Sunday is my only day off, so I would not be setting my alarm and I'd call him when I woke up. Well, I slept in. Slept in-in. Like 1030am slept-in. I haven't slept until 1030am in years... I just don't. I love to be up early, go to the gym, have my coffee and feel like the whole city is mine... but I have been exhausted lately. I am practically working 3 full time jobs, and the amount of pressure that has been put on me (mostly by myself, but certainly a bit from the corporation) is like nothing I've ever felt before. So I guess the week just caught up with me and I slept.
The second I looked at my clock I lost it! And picked up the phone immediately... he was already gone and I was told they were disappointed in me and that I let them down. I hate letting people down - well, I hate letting people I love and respect down.
I apologized profusely and will most likely beat myself up over this for the next few days - and I'll also try to justify it to myself. Should I have set my alarm? Am I a total letdown? How could I have hurt my parents, who do nothing but support and love me?
There's one thing I know for sure - I'd rather be called a "babbyling barfbag" anyday.
Funny enough, I can remember most of them... some all time favourites:
- babbyling barfbag
- stupid
- idiotic
- useless
Oh and then there's been so doozy comments as well, my all-time faves being that I slept my way to my job(s)... because clearly I didn't get to where I am on my own merits.
I generally take these comments as a compliment - anyone who's in media knows they haven't made it until they've been slammed on a public internet forum for the world to see. I think it's similar to a star being featured in Fashion Police - it's like a hazing, when you know you've finally made it!
Generally these comments bother me for an hour or two, I have a little piss-off and then get on with my life (because let's be honest, if these people were so awesome they'd be DOING what I'm doing, not WRITING about it, right?)
But yesterday something happened, that bothered me so deeply I was upset the entire day - close to tears even thinking about it. Something that bothered me on a level I am not used to feeling... my parents told me they were "disappointed" in me.
No words have ever hurt so deeply.
Anyone who knows me, or has read this blog, or my facebook page, know that they are the two most important people in life (along with Jared), and that I would do practically anything they asked of me.
I told my father last week, that I would do his Sunday morning run with him. He's training for his first ever Sun Run10km and I'm so proud of him. But I also told him, Sunday is my only day off, so I would not be setting my alarm and I'd call him when I woke up. Well, I slept in. Slept in-in. Like 1030am slept-in. I haven't slept until 1030am in years... I just don't. I love to be up early, go to the gym, have my coffee and feel like the whole city is mine... but I have been exhausted lately. I am practically working 3 full time jobs, and the amount of pressure that has been put on me (mostly by myself, but certainly a bit from the corporation) is like nothing I've ever felt before. So I guess the week just caught up with me and I slept.
The second I looked at my clock I lost it! And picked up the phone immediately... he was already gone and I was told they were disappointed in me and that I let them down. I hate letting people down - well, I hate letting people I love and respect down.
I apologized profusely and will most likely beat myself up over this for the next few days - and I'll also try to justify it to myself. Should I have set my alarm? Am I a total letdown? How could I have hurt my parents, who do nothing but support and love me?
There's one thing I know for sure - I'd rather be called a "babbyling barfbag" anyday.
Monday, March 7, 2011
For the Love of Pants...
...I love clothes. No no, I LOVE clothes. They are just about my favourite thing in the world (well, material speaking).
I love blouses, I love pants, I love skirts, dresses, shoes, hats, rings... it's really a sickness. So this is what I don't understand, why are the celebrities of today not wearing any?
I'm also a fan of working out. I love the feeling of adrenaline running through my veins after a killer run or a kick ass weight lifting session. I also adore the way my body looks and feels after a series of great workouts (and healthy eating, of course).
However, no matter how "good" my body may look, I still like to wear clothes.
Now this is where I get lost - is there something in the water in Hollywood that has made some of our favourite ladies lose track of their desire for fashion, in their need to show off their taut bodies?
The other day I was running on the treadmill, grooving along to MuchMoreMusic (yes, I'm lucky enough to work out at one of those gyms with tv's on every machine - loves it), and I watched videos from Britney - wearing her bra and panties, Ke$ha wearing a T-Shirt and not much else, the Pussycat Dolls who are famous for their lingerie clad dancing, and Gaga wearing nothing but her brassiere and undies (and flats, which is wrong in itself - please find some stiletto's for this woman). Why can't these women afford any clothes?
I am not a prude - not even slightly. I can appreciate a sexy woman just as much as I can appreciate a sexy man. And I love looking at pretty people and showing off their amazing bodies - in my workout magazines. While I do occassionally go out with a peek of my midriff showing (a peek - not a display), or a backless top, I would never consider going out without my pants!!!
And why is it Hollywood women are considering being half (okay almost-completely) naked "sexy". I once went to work in a turtleneck and black bootleg pants, and a woman stopped me and said "wow, that's a very sexy outfit for work don't you think?" Sexy is how you feel in your clothes, and that feeling that emanates from that attitude - that is the accessory to your outfit - showing your skivvies underneath are not.
I have dresses upon dresses in my closet - probably more than some small boutiques in Downtown Vancouver; and while I'm hardly the size 0 of Lady Gaga, I'd be more than happy to introduce her to my seamstress for alterations. Perhaps these woman need to find out just how sexy you can be in a Betsey Johnson dress: frills, crinoline and a good attitude go a long way in being sexy - and a little treat of lace and satin can be your own little private sexy secret, underneath.
I love blouses, I love pants, I love skirts, dresses, shoes, hats, rings... it's really a sickness. So this is what I don't understand, why are the celebrities of today not wearing any?
I'm also a fan of working out. I love the feeling of adrenaline running through my veins after a killer run or a kick ass weight lifting session. I also adore the way my body looks and feels after a series of great workouts (and healthy eating, of course).
However, no matter how "good" my body may look, I still like to wear clothes.
Now this is where I get lost - is there something in the water in Hollywood that has made some of our favourite ladies lose track of their desire for fashion, in their need to show off their taut bodies?
The other day I was running on the treadmill, grooving along to MuchMoreMusic (yes, I'm lucky enough to work out at one of those gyms with tv's on every machine - loves it), and I watched videos from Britney - wearing her bra and panties, Ke$ha wearing a T-Shirt and not much else, the Pussycat Dolls who are famous for their lingerie clad dancing, and Gaga wearing nothing but her brassiere and undies (and flats, which is wrong in itself - please find some stiletto's for this woman). Why can't these women afford any clothes?
I am not a prude - not even slightly. I can appreciate a sexy woman just as much as I can appreciate a sexy man. And I love looking at pretty people and showing off their amazing bodies - in my workout magazines. While I do occassionally go out with a peek of my midriff showing (a peek - not a display), or a backless top, I would never consider going out without my pants!!!
And why is it Hollywood women are considering being half (okay almost-completely) naked "sexy". I once went to work in a turtleneck and black bootleg pants, and a woman stopped me and said "wow, that's a very sexy outfit for work don't you think?" Sexy is how you feel in your clothes, and that feeling that emanates from that attitude - that is the accessory to your outfit - showing your skivvies underneath are not.
I have dresses upon dresses in my closet - probably more than some small boutiques in Downtown Vancouver; and while I'm hardly the size 0 of Lady Gaga, I'd be more than happy to introduce her to my seamstress for alterations. Perhaps these woman need to find out just how sexy you can be in a Betsey Johnson dress: frills, crinoline and a good attitude go a long way in being sexy - and a little treat of lace and satin can be your own little private sexy secret, underneath.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
A Penny Spent
Ahhhh - it's that time of year...
RSP deadlines. Or RRSP. Isn't there also something called RPSP?
Oh who knows - all I know is that it's the time of year that ads pick up for the banks, radio dj's talk about it, it's all over the news hour with Tamara Taggart and that other dude - time to do some investments.
What I don't know is why people aren't taking a lead on their own money the other 364 days a year??? I read recently that we (as the general human race) spend more time watching monkeys smell their own farts on YouTube than we spend reading our own financial statements. I laughed. And then I actually truly thought about that comment. Sadly, I have watched a small cat wearing a top hat online this week (video was about 30 seconds, hilarious, might I add), but I have also spent much longer than that going over my financial statement through my online banking.
Am I the only one?
I have been very lucky with finances through my life. As far back as I can remember, I not only had funds in a bank account, but a bright and intelligent financial advisor helping me along the way. He's a special, funny man who's particularly good with his money - I like to call him "Dad".
Since I was a small little tot, running around in fancy dresses (not much changed), Dad has taught me the power of a dollar and the power of a small investment. I remember going to the bank with him and not being able to see over the counter, with $20, which would eventually turn into $30 and so on. He had me put my money away into bank accounts with high interest. Now, as a kid I didn't know what that meant, but I certainly did when I went back and that $20 had somehow multiplied!
When I bought my first car, he came with me to to the bank to show me how I could afford the car I wanted, but not give up on the life I dreamed for myself! One thing this crazy financial advisor always taught me, is that I "need to live the life I was accustomed to". I have never not gone for dinner or not purchased a pair of shoes I wanted, because all of my financial obligations. It's about finding that balance between being smart with our money, but having fun with our money.
It hasn't always been easy - when I lost my job in 2007 it was hard to not 'enjoy' life as I always had. While I had a good severance package, I knew that money WOULD end... I lived fnancially thin, but I still went out and occassionaly treated myself to new makeup, but I knew my obligations to myself through those investments I continued to make. Heck, just because I got canned from my gig didn't mean I was willing to forsake my fantastic closet!
Yes, it's been a huge point in the right direction from a very smart individual, but it's also been the smarts to take some of my money and put it in a place where I know I can enjoy it in the future. Do I spend all of my money wisely? Oh heck no, I have a wardrobe that is probably the financial equivalent to a year (or three) of shuffleboard and blue hair dye.
Sure, I could invest an additional few hundred a year away into my retirement, or I could be a 30-something with one of hell of a good life. After all, what's the point in all that money, if you're not having fun being fabulous while you earn it?
RSP deadlines. Or RRSP. Isn't there also something called RPSP?
Oh who knows - all I know is that it's the time of year that ads pick up for the banks, radio dj's talk about it, it's all over the news hour with Tamara Taggart and that other dude - time to do some investments.
What I don't know is why people aren't taking a lead on their own money the other 364 days a year??? I read recently that we (as the general human race) spend more time watching monkeys smell their own farts on YouTube than we spend reading our own financial statements. I laughed. And then I actually truly thought about that comment. Sadly, I have watched a small cat wearing a top hat online this week (video was about 30 seconds, hilarious, might I add), but I have also spent much longer than that going over my financial statement through my online banking.
Am I the only one?
I have been very lucky with finances through my life. As far back as I can remember, I not only had funds in a bank account, but a bright and intelligent financial advisor helping me along the way. He's a special, funny man who's particularly good with his money - I like to call him "Dad".
Since I was a small little tot, running around in fancy dresses (not much changed), Dad has taught me the power of a dollar and the power of a small investment. I remember going to the bank with him and not being able to see over the counter, with $20, which would eventually turn into $30 and so on. He had me put my money away into bank accounts with high interest. Now, as a kid I didn't know what that meant, but I certainly did when I went back and that $20 had somehow multiplied!
When I bought my first car, he came with me to to the bank to show me how I could afford the car I wanted, but not give up on the life I dreamed for myself! One thing this crazy financial advisor always taught me, is that I "need to live the life I was accustomed to". I have never not gone for dinner or not purchased a pair of shoes I wanted, because all of my financial obligations. It's about finding that balance between being smart with our money, but having fun with our money.
It hasn't always been easy - when I lost my job in 2007 it was hard to not 'enjoy' life as I always had. While I had a good severance package, I knew that money WOULD end... I lived fnancially thin, but I still went out and occassionaly treated myself to new makeup, but I knew my obligations to myself through those investments I continued to make. Heck, just because I got canned from my gig didn't mean I was willing to forsake my fantastic closet!
Yes, it's been a huge point in the right direction from a very smart individual, but it's also been the smarts to take some of my money and put it in a place where I know I can enjoy it in the future. Do I spend all of my money wisely? Oh heck no, I have a wardrobe that is probably the financial equivalent to a year (or three) of shuffleboard and blue hair dye.
Sure, I could invest an additional few hundred a year away into my retirement, or I could be a 30-something with one of hell of a good life. After all, what's the point in all that money, if you're not having fun being fabulous while you earn it?
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Should We Hold it Against Britney?
Oh, how I love Britney. yes, THE Britney. Regardless of how crazy she may have gone in the past few years, I do still think there's something endearing about her. Whether it's her look, her dancing, her stylists - who knows - but you gotta love her.
That being said, I just had the chance to check out her new video. The video is very slick and there is quite a bit of product placement - which I have no problem with. I hate it when people get up on their high-horses about too much product placement in the world. Well, I'm in marketing, and you better believe if Britney called to ask if she could use our logo and site for a video, I'd be rolling out the pink carpet for her. She's wearing all Make-Up Forever; you better believe I'm making a trip to my Beauty Boutique and playing with their colours the next chance I get - because Brit Brit looks hot-hot!
Anyway, I digress - while watching the video, I'm thinking "this is fun and all, but I really can't wait for the new Gaga video". That's the thing - Britney Spears, who WAS the Madonna of our era, has been ousted from that position as if she never even owned it - Lady Gaga is the new phenomenon; with possibly even more staying power. And Gaga can't go crazy like Britney did - because Gaga is already crazy, and she's embracing her strangeness and making it her best selling feature.
Yes, Britney's video was slick, but it wasn't anything 'new'. I'd put money on it right now that Gaga's video will be something we have never seen before. And while I'm interested to go and look at the MakeUp Forever Products that Britneys' flogging - over the weekend, without even trying it on - I bought the Gaga line at MAC. Why? Because if Gaga's designed it - I NEED it. (who says marketing doesn't work?)
Lady Gaga has become a style-icon for me, and a billion other people all over the world. Would I show up to an event in an egg? no. Would I wear a black mask during a tv interview? no. But will I take chances with hats and makeup? yes. Lady Gaga has shown us that beauty is NOT in the eye of the beholder - beauty is the confidence you find in yourself. She's not classically beautiful - let's be honest, Britney is stunning, but I really just want to look at Gaga.
She once said "I'd rather be interesting than beatiful". I love that. It's given young women who aren't traditionally 'gorgeous' a chance to embrace themselves and feel worthy and attractive - to find their own look in which they enjoy.
That being said, I just had the chance to check out her new video. The video is very slick and there is quite a bit of product placement - which I have no problem with. I hate it when people get up on their high-horses about too much product placement in the world. Well, I'm in marketing, and you better believe if Britney called to ask if she could use our logo and site for a video, I'd be rolling out the pink carpet for her. She's wearing all Make-Up Forever; you better believe I'm making a trip to my Beauty Boutique and playing with their colours the next chance I get - because Brit Brit looks hot-hot!
Anyway, I digress - while watching the video, I'm thinking "this is fun and all, but I really can't wait for the new Gaga video". That's the thing - Britney Spears, who WAS the Madonna of our era, has been ousted from that position as if she never even owned it - Lady Gaga is the new phenomenon; with possibly even more staying power. And Gaga can't go crazy like Britney did - because Gaga is already crazy, and she's embracing her strangeness and making it her best selling feature.
Yes, Britney's video was slick, but it wasn't anything 'new'. I'd put money on it right now that Gaga's video will be something we have never seen before. And while I'm interested to go and look at the MakeUp Forever Products that Britneys' flogging - over the weekend, without even trying it on - I bought the Gaga line at MAC. Why? Because if Gaga's designed it - I NEED it. (who says marketing doesn't work?)
Lady Gaga has become a style-icon for me, and a billion other people all over the world. Would I show up to an event in an egg? no. Would I wear a black mask during a tv interview? no. But will I take chances with hats and makeup? yes. Lady Gaga has shown us that beauty is NOT in the eye of the beholder - beauty is the confidence you find in yourself. She's not classically beautiful - let's be honest, Britney is stunning, but I really just want to look at Gaga.
She once said "I'd rather be interesting than beatiful". I love that. It's given young women who aren't traditionally 'gorgeous' a chance to embrace themselves and feel worthy and attractive - to find their own look in which they enjoy.
I also love that Gaga's sense of beauty actually causes you to think. I wrote a few weeks ago about why we have to chose between being attractive, and being smart. I think Gaga has made one impossible without the other in her look. She's a brilliant marketer, she's putting revenue back in the music industry and most importantly, she's making us think. So, I'm sorry Britney, but while you're video is great, the countdown for Gaga is on.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Battle of the Sexes
What a week this has been - I truly don't think I've ever been so busy in my entire life. Work could be a 24 hour job right now, however, as I grow up and start looking at the world through more mature eyes, I am starting to learn that my personal life should not be brushed aside for a professional one.
A happy balance between the two is what is necessary.
One of the major reasons I have started to grow and mature in the last year to six months, as been the love, friendship, and relationship of Jared. I will admit, the past 3 years I have been somewhat of a party girl. I loved it. I have no regrets at all for having plans practically every day of the week and for just having one hell of a good time. (no drugs or stupidity - just a lot of wine and a lot of flirting). But when Jared came into my life, I started to really see the value in having a solid homelife.
Don't get me wrong, Jared and I still go out and experience the world, but it's "different" now, and I like it. Staying home 3 nights a week, making dinner and watching Jeopardy has a whole new feeling when I'm curled up on the couch beside him. And the nights we do go out and hit the town, dayum I have the best looking date in the city!
Pre-Jared (now to be known as P.J.) I also found that I had a lot more male friends - A LOT more. Many of these guys are still friends, but it's funny how they rarely call, and now seem almost non-existent. As where over the past six months, my relationships with female friends have really blossomed. I've never had girlfriends like I have now.
This week alone I had two lunches, one workout and at least five phone conversations - all with females. This would never have happened P.J. And I really don't know why? And my relationship with these girls seems so much more "real" then any friendship I had with any boy. I am learning and caring about these women at a way deeper level - learning about their goals, what makes them happy, their children, boyfriends (or hubby's or fiance's), and of course, all the fun stuff too...
And I love it - because they ask about all those things from my perspective as well. No judging, no prejuidice, no preconceptions - just pure friendship. I never had that with a boy (okay, maybe a few gay boys), but never any of the males I hung out with P.J.
Which brings me back to the age-old question? Can men and women JUST be friends? From the market research I've recently conducted, the answer is a resounding "no". However, as we grow up our relationships with other females become a necessary, do they in fact offer a certain element into our lives that a man can not provide? Absolutely, and without a doubt.
A happy balance between the two is what is necessary.
One of the major reasons I have started to grow and mature in the last year to six months, as been the love, friendship, and relationship of Jared. I will admit, the past 3 years I have been somewhat of a party girl. I loved it. I have no regrets at all for having plans practically every day of the week and for just having one hell of a good time. (no drugs or stupidity - just a lot of wine and a lot of flirting). But when Jared came into my life, I started to really see the value in having a solid homelife.
Don't get me wrong, Jared and I still go out and experience the world, but it's "different" now, and I like it. Staying home 3 nights a week, making dinner and watching Jeopardy has a whole new feeling when I'm curled up on the couch beside him. And the nights we do go out and hit the town, dayum I have the best looking date in the city!
Pre-Jared (now to be known as P.J.) I also found that I had a lot more male friends - A LOT more. Many of these guys are still friends, but it's funny how they rarely call, and now seem almost non-existent. As where over the past six months, my relationships with female friends have really blossomed. I've never had girlfriends like I have now.
This week alone I had two lunches, one workout and at least five phone conversations - all with females. This would never have happened P.J. And I really don't know why? And my relationship with these girls seems so much more "real" then any friendship I had with any boy. I am learning and caring about these women at a way deeper level - learning about their goals, what makes them happy, their children, boyfriends (or hubby's or fiance's), and of course, all the fun stuff too...
And I love it - because they ask about all those things from my perspective as well. No judging, no prejuidice, no preconceptions - just pure friendship. I never had that with a boy (okay, maybe a few gay boys), but never any of the males I hung out with P.J.
Which brings me back to the age-old question? Can men and women JUST be friends? From the market research I've recently conducted, the answer is a resounding "no". However, as we grow up our relationships with other females become a necessary, do they in fact offer a certain element into our lives that a man can not provide? Absolutely, and without a doubt.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
A Matter of Appearances
I have been very lucky in my career as of late (...touch wood...) In the big picture of my life thus far, I have been very lucky in my career, period.
I was never a straight-A student through Elementary and Highschool, and I co-op'd out of my last year of college so I could work in the field. I am one of those people who can sit in a classroom for years upon years and learn nothing - but put me in the job and I absorb knowledge like it's going out of style.
Growing up I was never a great looking kid. I wasn't horrendous by any means, but I had acne, I was a little husky and I always wanted to be one of the "popular girls" and always envied them. So I was an average student and an average looking person. That was fine - I didn't really see any issue with either, as long as I applied myself where it mattered and succeeded.
Well fast forward 12 years - I've worked hard in my career: I was fazed out of my radio job and took that opportunity to find a new career. This was something most people told me was impossible to do, as I was a broadcaster with no formal business education. 4 months after I was let go I started my job in marketing. Over 3 years later I have evolved that role with help and assistance of a great mentor and a wonderful boss.
And over the last 12 years I have worked hard to take care of my physical self: I work out daily, watch what I eat, invest in hair and makeup and make the most of what was given to me. I think it's sort of ironic that Lady Gaga's new single is called "Born This Way" - because I was certainly not. Through the trials and turbulations of evolving my education, looks and career is where I believe my personality has developed. I haven't always been the way I am now: it's a sense (sometimes false sense) of confidence that has made me, me.
A few weeks ago I was asked to sit on a committee for a fairly important project with the company. This was such an honour - but there was certainly my own self-doubt coming into play. "Am I capable of this job?" "Will I look stupid in this position?" "Will people think I am sham?" It's a double edged sword of emotions - am I actually good at my job? Or have I been given a few lucky breaks?
My first session with the group I realized I was the only female in a group of nine older businessmen. Should I be intimidated? Should I be quiet or speak up? Do I have to come across as extra-smart to be taken seriously? Or was the face that I have some validity in the industry obvious? Or do these people think I've made it this far simply based on the way I look?
It was suggested to me, that when I sit on the committee to "play down my pretty". What a peculiar situation. Who am I? I am a business woman who has worked very hard to learn an industry and a topic that 3 years ago, I knew virtually nothing about. I've also learned all of this despite being a somewhat decent looking human being - but now, as a young professional woman who happens to wear high heels and mascara it could be held against me?
Where do I find the happy balance?
Yesterday I went in - hair pulled back and a more muted face of makeup. I made some valid points that I feel the group were receptive too. I worked as a part of a team of men - not as an outsider with a group of men. Black pants and a gray blazer, well-spoken (I hope) on a variety of issues and solutions for our industry. Why do I have to pick either pretty or smart? Why can't we be both?
I was never a straight-A student through Elementary and Highschool, and I co-op'd out of my last year of college so I could work in the field. I am one of those people who can sit in a classroom for years upon years and learn nothing - but put me in the job and I absorb knowledge like it's going out of style.
Growing up I was never a great looking kid. I wasn't horrendous by any means, but I had acne, I was a little husky and I always wanted to be one of the "popular girls" and always envied them. So I was an average student and an average looking person. That was fine - I didn't really see any issue with either, as long as I applied myself where it mattered and succeeded.
Well fast forward 12 years - I've worked hard in my career: I was fazed out of my radio job and took that opportunity to find a new career. This was something most people told me was impossible to do, as I was a broadcaster with no formal business education. 4 months after I was let go I started my job in marketing. Over 3 years later I have evolved that role with help and assistance of a great mentor and a wonderful boss.
And over the last 12 years I have worked hard to take care of my physical self: I work out daily, watch what I eat, invest in hair and makeup and make the most of what was given to me. I think it's sort of ironic that Lady Gaga's new single is called "Born This Way" - because I was certainly not. Through the trials and turbulations of evolving my education, looks and career is where I believe my personality has developed. I haven't always been the way I am now: it's a sense (sometimes false sense) of confidence that has made me, me.
A few weeks ago I was asked to sit on a committee for a fairly important project with the company. This was such an honour - but there was certainly my own self-doubt coming into play. "Am I capable of this job?" "Will I look stupid in this position?" "Will people think I am sham?" It's a double edged sword of emotions - am I actually good at my job? Or have I been given a few lucky breaks?
My first session with the group I realized I was the only female in a group of nine older businessmen. Should I be intimidated? Should I be quiet or speak up? Do I have to come across as extra-smart to be taken seriously? Or was the face that I have some validity in the industry obvious? Or do these people think I've made it this far simply based on the way I look?
It was suggested to me, that when I sit on the committee to "play down my pretty". What a peculiar situation. Who am I? I am a business woman who has worked very hard to learn an industry and a topic that 3 years ago, I knew virtually nothing about. I've also learned all of this despite being a somewhat decent looking human being - but now, as a young professional woman who happens to wear high heels and mascara it could be held against me?
Where do I find the happy balance?
Yesterday I went in - hair pulled back and a more muted face of makeup. I made some valid points that I feel the group were receptive too. I worked as a part of a team of men - not as an outsider with a group of men. Black pants and a gray blazer, well-spoken (I hope) on a variety of issues and solutions for our industry. Why do I have to pick either pretty or smart? Why can't we be both?
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Home is my (clean) Castle
I love clean. No I don't love tidy, or kind of clean, or it seems clean. I love clean.
If you walk into our home, and can't eat off the floors, then in my eyes it's filthy.
For many years I lived alone - and I cleaned pratically everyday. A bit over the top? Perhaps, but I loved walking into the house and everything shined. My glass top coffee tables were spotless, the mirrors in the bathroom would get a daily scrub down. And I loved it.
I knew that when Jared moved in, this would change and I would have to become slightly more leniant where cleanliness was involved. It's not that Jared is dirty, it's just that he doesn't seem to value the incessant need for "clean-perfection" as I do. And apparently not many people do.
My man loves to cook - I hate it. And it's not that I really hate cooking, it's that I hate the mess it leaves behind. I never cooked when I lived alone. Simply because a) I eat salad only (see statement below about weight perfection) and b) Cutting vegetables does not make a mess. Jared however, loves it. It's where he is creative and can be free. It's also where he makes his biggest messes: flour on the floor, fingerprints on the stainless steel appliances and oily feet marks on the dark hardwood floors.
For awhile I would clean behind him as he cooked. This did not go well - we'd just end up frustrated at one another. Then I tried "tidying up" after him; which was fine - but it never got that perfect-shine I was after.
I tried to live with it, and I was doing alright - until this weekend.
I could not handle it anymore.
I needed perfection again. I don't do things half assed. Ever. If I am going to commit to something, it's going to be 100% perfect (or at least as good as I can get it, with the tools I possess). My constant need for perfection comes up in many aspects of my life - it's been noted in my performance evaluations with my boss, and has also been noted by loved ones by my commitment to my physical health (particularly where my weight comes into play).
Well my weight is in check, I'm working hard at my career and being rewarded for it, and I have all-round fantastic life: except that the house wasn't clean enough.
I will admit, had anyone other than me walked into the house, they would probably not have known the difference. There was no bird seed on the floor, no finger prints on anything, but it needed some heart. Only I knew it - but I didn't care. So when Jared went to work on Sunday - I cleaned. I scrubbed. I got down on my hands and knees and q-tipped our floor boards to ensure there was no lurking dust. I went into our paint and fixed up a few tiny knicks on our walls. I vacuumed every corner - scrubbed every toilet. It shined.
And I enjoyed that cleanliness. I felt at peace and happy.
Once Jared got home from work, I knew I'd have to let go to that perfection. Of course he cooked dinner - and there were oily fingerprints on the stainless steel again and his foot marks were along the floor.
They said cleanliness is next to Godliness, but being loved from a guy who drops crumbs on your floor - is next to nothing at all - because that, my friend - is better than any clean home could ever be.
If you walk into our home, and can't eat off the floors, then in my eyes it's filthy.
For many years I lived alone - and I cleaned pratically everyday. A bit over the top? Perhaps, but I loved walking into the house and everything shined. My glass top coffee tables were spotless, the mirrors in the bathroom would get a daily scrub down. And I loved it.
I knew that when Jared moved in, this would change and I would have to become slightly more leniant where cleanliness was involved. It's not that Jared is dirty, it's just that he doesn't seem to value the incessant need for "clean-perfection" as I do. And apparently not many people do.
My man loves to cook - I hate it. And it's not that I really hate cooking, it's that I hate the mess it leaves behind. I never cooked when I lived alone. Simply because a) I eat salad only (see statement below about weight perfection) and b) Cutting vegetables does not make a mess. Jared however, loves it. It's where he is creative and can be free. It's also where he makes his biggest messes: flour on the floor, fingerprints on the stainless steel appliances and oily feet marks on the dark hardwood floors.
For awhile I would clean behind him as he cooked. This did not go well - we'd just end up frustrated at one another. Then I tried "tidying up" after him; which was fine - but it never got that perfect-shine I was after.
I tried to live with it, and I was doing alright - until this weekend.
I could not handle it anymore.
I needed perfection again. I don't do things half assed. Ever. If I am going to commit to something, it's going to be 100% perfect (or at least as good as I can get it, with the tools I possess). My constant need for perfection comes up in many aspects of my life - it's been noted in my performance evaluations with my boss, and has also been noted by loved ones by my commitment to my physical health (particularly where my weight comes into play).
Well my weight is in check, I'm working hard at my career and being rewarded for it, and I have all-round fantastic life: except that the house wasn't clean enough.
I will admit, had anyone other than me walked into the house, they would probably not have known the difference. There was no bird seed on the floor, no finger prints on anything, but it needed some heart. Only I knew it - but I didn't care. So when Jared went to work on Sunday - I cleaned. I scrubbed. I got down on my hands and knees and q-tipped our floor boards to ensure there was no lurking dust. I went into our paint and fixed up a few tiny knicks on our walls. I vacuumed every corner - scrubbed every toilet. It shined.
And I enjoyed that cleanliness. I felt at peace and happy.
Once Jared got home from work, I knew I'd have to let go to that perfection. Of course he cooked dinner - and there were oily fingerprints on the stainless steel again and his foot marks were along the floor.
They said cleanliness is next to Godliness, but being loved from a guy who drops crumbs on your floor - is next to nothing at all - because that, my friend - is better than any clean home could ever be.
Monday, February 7, 2011
Wise Words - February 7, 2011
"The difference between style and fashion is quality.
- Georgia Armani
- Georgia Armani
From Armani's Fall/Winter 2010/2011 show.
(LOVES)
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Fill 'er Up
Earlier this week both Jared and I were feeling "bleh". He, more than me. I knew what was at the route of mine (see previous posts)... but him, I wasn't quite sure.
Although I suspectected...
...I said "you need some Gord and Ellen". G and E are my Mom and Dad, and Jared's adopted Mom and Dad, as his parental units are in the Maritimes. And G and E had been in Vegas for the week.
For the majority of my adult life, my parents have travelled extensively, leaving for long periods of time to explore the world. And whenever they are aware for more than a few days I miss them incessantly. I notice it more and more as I get older, especially when they are gone for more than a week. By about day 8 of their trip I always feel like something is "off".
I didn't feel it on this short trip, but Jared certainly did.
With J's Mom and Dad being in the Maritimes', we talk to them almost daily, but there is something about that physical interaction that just puts your heart at peace. I always feel like when Gord and Ellen are away my heart "gas tank" runs a but under than empty.
This weekend Jared's heart was a bit under empty.
Gord and Ellen got home yesterday, and tonight we went to celebrate Gords Birthday. Drinks, dinner and many, many laughs. Nothing beyond that. Okay maybe some cake and presents, but it was more about the interaction of love than the physical items of the evening. And you know what? It was awesome.
We were on the way home in the cab and I looked at the three most important people in my life and they all looked genuinely happy. My Mom glowed, my Dad had his cutest little smile going, and my boyfriend had a look in his eye that only a piece of parental love could supply.
Our belly's are now full of wine and yummy food (thank you Saint Street Grill), but more obvious than anything else is that our hearts have been filled up with some much needed love.
And now the countdown is on the way, for some Maritime love, in a few weeks. How lucky we are to know our hearts can be filled up on both coasts of our country...
Although I suspectected...
...I said "you need some Gord and Ellen". G and E are my Mom and Dad, and Jared's adopted Mom and Dad, as his parental units are in the Maritimes. And G and E had been in Vegas for the week.
For the majority of my adult life, my parents have travelled extensively, leaving for long periods of time to explore the world. And whenever they are aware for more than a few days I miss them incessantly. I notice it more and more as I get older, especially when they are gone for more than a week. By about day 8 of their trip I always feel like something is "off".
I didn't feel it on this short trip, but Jared certainly did.
With J's Mom and Dad being in the Maritimes', we talk to them almost daily, but there is something about that physical interaction that just puts your heart at peace. I always feel like when Gord and Ellen are away my heart "gas tank" runs a but under than empty.
This weekend Jared's heart was a bit under empty.
Gord and Ellen got home yesterday, and tonight we went to celebrate Gords Birthday. Drinks, dinner and many, many laughs. Nothing beyond that. Okay maybe some cake and presents, but it was more about the interaction of love than the physical items of the evening. And you know what? It was awesome.
We were on the way home in the cab and I looked at the three most important people in my life and they all looked genuinely happy. My Mom glowed, my Dad had his cutest little smile going, and my boyfriend had a look in his eye that only a piece of parental love could supply.
Our belly's are now full of wine and yummy food (thank you Saint Street Grill), but more obvious than anything else is that our hearts have been filled up with some much needed love.
And now the countdown is on the way, for some Maritime love, in a few weeks. How lucky we are to know our hearts can be filled up on both coasts of our country...
Something in the Hair Tonight
One of my worst nightmares had been happening in my life - I had lost my swagger. There's something I have learned about myself in the past 2 or 3 years - it's not about what you wear or where you're from: it's about how you hold yourself up.
I've always been a generally happy person - I like to smile at people on the street and chat with folks while I'm standing in line at the grocery store. Even on a bad make-up day I would always hold myself up like I rocked it.
Earlier in the week I blogged about how I had been feeling like crap lately - just ugly and dowdy and how I thought it could be my hair that was holding me back. And how unbelievably ridiculous it was that I felt this way when there's real problems in the world.
Turns out, I was right. On Thursday night, my fabulous new stylist Ramesh gave me a fringe, and we added fun blonde extensions to the mop I had been growing. He took out the highlights and added a gorgeous solid blonde from roots to tips. Immediately, no seriously immediately, I felt different - like the old me again.
I left the salon, head held high, and my skin actually seemed to be glowing. People in stores said hello to me again, and I felt a new air of energy surrounding me. Ramesh told me that physcologists who open up offices next to hair studios don't do as well of a business. I absolutely can understand. Why would I pay $500 to lay on a couch and tell some stranger my problems, when I could pay $175, have an awesome few hours with a great stylish trendy hairstylist and leave looking (and therefore feeling) like a million bucks?
And you should see Jared's reaction. I haven't changed - my face is the same, my makeup is the same, my weight is the same: but Jared has been paying more attention to me than you'd even believe. He says I have my attitude back. Sad, but true.
I've always been a generally happy person - I like to smile at people on the street and chat with folks while I'm standing in line at the grocery store. Even on a bad make-up day I would always hold myself up like I rocked it.
Earlier in the week I blogged about how I had been feeling like crap lately - just ugly and dowdy and how I thought it could be my hair that was holding me back. And how unbelievably ridiculous it was that I felt this way when there's real problems in the world.
Turns out, I was right. On Thursday night, my fabulous new stylist Ramesh gave me a fringe, and we added fun blonde extensions to the mop I had been growing. He took out the highlights and added a gorgeous solid blonde from roots to tips. Immediately, no seriously immediately, I felt different - like the old me again.
I left the salon, head held high, and my skin actually seemed to be glowing. People in stores said hello to me again, and I felt a new air of energy surrounding me. Ramesh told me that physcologists who open up offices next to hair studios don't do as well of a business. I absolutely can understand. Why would I pay $500 to lay on a couch and tell some stranger my problems, when I could pay $175, have an awesome few hours with a great stylish trendy hairstylist and leave looking (and therefore feeling) like a million bucks?
And you should see Jared's reaction. I haven't changed - my face is the same, my makeup is the same, my weight is the same: but Jared has been paying more attention to me than you'd even believe. He says I have my attitude back. Sad, but true.
So with my bold new hair and my outlook on life back in check, I can focus on the issues of the world - take an interest in politics and current events, read and take interest - and you know, it will be all more valuable because kg got her swagger back.
Hear That Ticking? No, me neither...
My best friend Angie has the cutest baby alive. No, I'm serious. He is absolutely, without a doubt one of the cutest small specimens I have ever seen in my life.
And Angie, who I have been pretty much inseperable from for years now, seems so unbelievably happy. She honestly radiates an energy I have never seen from her before. Not to mention her skin is perfect, her hair is shiny and she's probably the thinnest she's been since the inception of our friendship.
Motherhood seems great - and her baby just makes me smile.
But it's become more apparent to me over the past 6 months of her son's life, I don't want children.
I've ALWAYS known that I have no interest in becoming a mother. I'm not maternal, I'm selfish and can be quite shallow, and I just really, really don't want any. And my entire life, practically everyone around me has said "oh you'll change your mind when you meet the right guy and your friends start having babies."
Hmmm - the right guy has come along (in fact, one of my first dates with Jared he told me he didn't want children. I knew then and there that this was the man for me), and I still don't want any. We have a lovely home, which has more than enough room for a nursery. No thank you. That's the room we watch tv in.
And while a lot of my friends are so happy and thrilled to be spending their evenings at home nursing their beautiful children, Jared and I are out trying new restaurants and having martini's at cute little lounges around Vancouver. I have no interest in giving that up.
For years I have battled a touch of guilt about not wanting any children. Isn't it my duty as a female to want to reproduce and grow a life? I once read an article about Kate Hudson who felt it was her only reason to be on Earth (to reproduce). Was there something wrong with me that I didn't want that? Was there physically something in my DNA that has made me this way?
As I've grown older, I realize "hey this is who I am". And while my friends post beautiful baby pictures of their children on facebook, I giggle at their wobbly heads and round tummies: oh I just want to squeeze Angie's baby and watch him grow up. But do I want one of my own? Still a resounding "no".
So, for now and most likely the rest of my life, I'll live motherhood through the stories of my friends. I'll buy new clothes for the little tot's in my life and be cool Auntie kg. And while they post photos of their sweet little bums on facebook in those outfits I bought, I'll post photos of my wardrobe, bird and adventures with Jared. And I'm perfectly okay with that.
And Angie, who I have been pretty much inseperable from for years now, seems so unbelievably happy. She honestly radiates an energy I have never seen from her before. Not to mention her skin is perfect, her hair is shiny and she's probably the thinnest she's been since the inception of our friendship.
Motherhood seems great - and her baby just makes me smile.
But it's become more apparent to me over the past 6 months of her son's life, I don't want children.
I've ALWAYS known that I have no interest in becoming a mother. I'm not maternal, I'm selfish and can be quite shallow, and I just really, really don't want any. And my entire life, practically everyone around me has said "oh you'll change your mind when you meet the right guy and your friends start having babies."
Hmmm - the right guy has come along (in fact, one of my first dates with Jared he told me he didn't want children. I knew then and there that this was the man for me), and I still don't want any. We have a lovely home, which has more than enough room for a nursery. No thank you. That's the room we watch tv in.
And while a lot of my friends are so happy and thrilled to be spending their evenings at home nursing their beautiful children, Jared and I are out trying new restaurants and having martini's at cute little lounges around Vancouver. I have no interest in giving that up.
For years I have battled a touch of guilt about not wanting any children. Isn't it my duty as a female to want to reproduce and grow a life? I once read an article about Kate Hudson who felt it was her only reason to be on Earth (to reproduce). Was there something wrong with me that I didn't want that? Was there physically something in my DNA that has made me this way?
As I've grown older, I realize "hey this is who I am". And while my friends post beautiful baby pictures of their children on facebook, I giggle at their wobbly heads and round tummies: oh I just want to squeeze Angie's baby and watch him grow up. But do I want one of my own? Still a resounding "no".
So, for now and most likely the rest of my life, I'll live motherhood through the stories of my friends. I'll buy new clothes for the little tot's in my life and be cool Auntie kg. And while they post photos of their sweet little bums on facebook in those outfits I bought, I'll post photos of my wardrobe, bird and adventures with Jared. And I'm perfectly okay with that.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Hair Today. Gone Tomorrow.
I actually feel quite ridiculous. I am in an awful, bitchy, miserable, mood. You'd think it's perhaps due to the sadness in the media right now - over the weekend I could barely pull myself away from CNN I was so intrigued and interested in Egypt. And Monday and Tuesday there were no words to express the disgust I felt with the massive dog slaughter in Whistler. But no, that is not why I am in such a disgusting mood... it's my hair.
I can't handle it any longer.
For years now, I have donned the short Victoria Beckham "Pob" and then last year I rocked out that sweet short cut that Rihanna did. When you have short hair you really start to admire "the updo". You watch your besties pull their hair back into cute little ponytails... and you just do the same thing everyday with a short do' (with the exception of a rockstar headband or barette, now and again). It was time to grow out my hair.
Anyone who has gone from short hair to the long stage, can agree, it's awful. Actually, I think it's embarassing. There are literally days that I try to think of excuses to not go to anywhere too cool or too trendy in Yaletown or elsewhere, simply because my hair is such a disgrace. And now, I'm rocking split ends, gross roots and just an all-round unsexy look.
So I have made a fairly significant investment in hair extensions and tomorrow I go to a new hairstylist. Which is just adding an additional layer of "ick" into my life. The hairstylist I've had for ten years is a serious star. She has given me so many great looks I could puke - but a stylist who I know through contacts, was looking for a blonde, so I volunteered myself. He has styled my hair before and I loved it - but this is the first time someone "new" is cutting and dyeing my hair for the first time in over a decade.
Yikes.
We had our consultation last week and I'm pretty stoked about it. He works in a super fun salon and he is absolutely "fabulous". When I told him I wanted bangs, he hit me in the head and said "that's a bang, you want a fringe". I think I was hooked on that one comment. Alas, tomorrow the extensions are put in, the roots disappear, and fringe is added. I think I'm so excited that I might not sleep tonight - like a 6 year old before Santa.
Except my version of Santa will make me feel sexy and pretty again - and once he's done with me, I can actually focus on the REAL problems of the world.
I can't handle it any longer.
For years now, I have donned the short Victoria Beckham "Pob" and then last year I rocked out that sweet short cut that Rihanna did. When you have short hair you really start to admire "the updo". You watch your besties pull their hair back into cute little ponytails... and you just do the same thing everyday with a short do' (with the exception of a rockstar headband or barette, now and again). It was time to grow out my hair.
Anyone who has gone from short hair to the long stage, can agree, it's awful. Actually, I think it's embarassing. There are literally days that I try to think of excuses to not go to anywhere too cool or too trendy in Yaletown or elsewhere, simply because my hair is such a disgrace. And now, I'm rocking split ends, gross roots and just an all-round unsexy look.
So I have made a fairly significant investment in hair extensions and tomorrow I go to a new hairstylist. Which is just adding an additional layer of "ick" into my life. The hairstylist I've had for ten years is a serious star. She has given me so many great looks I could puke - but a stylist who I know through contacts, was looking for a blonde, so I volunteered myself. He has styled my hair before and I loved it - but this is the first time someone "new" is cutting and dyeing my hair for the first time in over a decade.
Yikes.
We had our consultation last week and I'm pretty stoked about it. He works in a super fun salon and he is absolutely "fabulous". When I told him I wanted bangs, he hit me in the head and said "that's a bang, you want a fringe". I think I was hooked on that one comment. Alas, tomorrow the extensions are put in, the roots disappear, and fringe is added. I think I'm so excited that I might not sleep tonight - like a 6 year old before Santa.
Except my version of Santa will make me feel sexy and pretty again - and once he's done with me, I can actually focus on the REAL problems of the world.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Time Is Money?
Tonight the bf and I went to see No Strings Attached (well, actually we went this afternoon, I had the day off and he left work early... shhh...). SIDE NOTE...I was in my yoga pants and Reetones and he was in as suit - which made me think that people in the theatre must of thought I was his on-the-side honey. Which might I say, I enjoyed. But that's another story in itself.
Today, while I had my day off and playing housewife, I accidentally forgot to get eggs. So on the way home from the movie I ran into 7-11 to get eggs. 7-11 is ON THE WAY HOME, as where a grocery store would be out of the way, got to find parking, walk in, stand in line - blah blah blah. I grab the eggs and tell the BF that they were only $3.49. He was appalled. It's so bizarre - I would consider the $2 extra I paid absolutely worth it. Why on Earth would I waste 15 minutes from my evening to go to a grocery store to save such a small amount of money?
This is not the first time we have had this discussion either - a few weeks ago we were in Vancouver doing our grocery shopping - we got everything we needed, but he would NOT allow me to spend $4.50 on the bag of mixed peppers, as they are only $2 at the grocery store near our house. So we had to drive back to Coquitlam, unload the current bag of groceries and then drive back to a different store, to get them (that grocery store, ironically enough was sold out of the peppers, so we had to go and get them the following day).
So I beg the question? Is my time worth money? Or is my money worth the time?
Today, while I had my day off and playing housewife, I accidentally forgot to get eggs. So on the way home from the movie I ran into 7-11 to get eggs. 7-11 is ON THE WAY HOME, as where a grocery store would be out of the way, got to find parking, walk in, stand in line - blah blah blah. I grab the eggs and tell the BF that they were only $3.49. He was appalled. It's so bizarre - I would consider the $2 extra I paid absolutely worth it. Why on Earth would I waste 15 minutes from my evening to go to a grocery store to save such a small amount of money?
This is not the first time we have had this discussion either - a few weeks ago we were in Vancouver doing our grocery shopping - we got everything we needed, but he would NOT allow me to spend $4.50 on the bag of mixed peppers, as they are only $2 at the grocery store near our house. So we had to drive back to Coquitlam, unload the current bag of groceries and then drive back to a different store, to get them (that grocery store, ironically enough was sold out of the peppers, so we had to go and get them the following day).
So I beg the question? Is my time worth money? Or is my money worth the time?
If This Doesn't Make You Smile...
Really I just wanted to figure out how to upload a photo - so I figured I may upload a photo of the sweetest love of my life.
This is Frank. He is a lovebird. And he's also 12 years old (well almost...)
I've had him since he was only a few weeks old. I flipping love this little ball of feathers so much I could scream. People who have never met him must think I'm a nutcase when I speak of him; but ten minutes after their first encounter with him - they're hooked.
He's me. In bird form.
Loud. Wanting attention. Constant preening. And will stop everything for a little cuddle time. He loves everyone to bits, unless you cross him (or wake him up from a good slumber). And he just wants to be happy and love. Not so bad, eh?
Numero Uno
For awhile now, I've been thinking I need a place where I can go to be creative and write. Even if it's for my own self satisfaction. So, here goes - a blog. I figure why not? Seems like a logical thing to do - I have fingers to type, a brain to think (at least most of the time) and a computer to use. Granted, I'm not sure exactly what I'll blog ABOUT; however I'm sure it will all come to me at some point. I just need an outlet to have a conversation (whether it is to myself, or no one at all).
First of all - a title of a blog? How am I supposed to even create a title when I'm not sure exactly what I'll blog about? However, I'm very much into fashion - well, that's not really true - I'm into style. I think they are two very different things. I generally think of people who are into "fashion" as people with a lot of money, who have a lot of creative education behind them. I am not one of those people. I don't have A LOT of money, and my education is nothing creative. I studied broadcast journalism. Although if I could go back and do it all again, I would have gone into a fashion education. However, I digress.
I love style - I have more clothes than a small retail chain. Some of my clothes are extremely expensive - others are $5 finds from cheapy stores in the mall. And you know, I have a $10 pair of shoes from Forever 21 that I love equally as much as I love my Louboutins (okay, well I may love the CL's a little more - but still).
My profession is now in a field where I work with horses (well, not directly WITH the horses, but in the same facility as them). So I figured a cool name for a blog would be Hair Heels and Horses.
So, that's all for now. I think I'll go and scope other people's blogs to see what they're talking about... and how they're set up. I miss using my brain to learn lately - this is a good opportunity for me to use that mass behind my eyes.
First of all - a title of a blog? How am I supposed to even create a title when I'm not sure exactly what I'll blog about? However, I'm very much into fashion - well, that's not really true - I'm into style. I think they are two very different things. I generally think of people who are into "fashion" as people with a lot of money, who have a lot of creative education behind them. I am not one of those people. I don't have A LOT of money, and my education is nothing creative. I studied broadcast journalism. Although if I could go back and do it all again, I would have gone into a fashion education. However, I digress.
I love style - I have more clothes than a small retail chain. Some of my clothes are extremely expensive - others are $5 finds from cheapy stores in the mall. And you know, I have a $10 pair of shoes from Forever 21 that I love equally as much as I love my Louboutins (okay, well I may love the CL's a little more - but still).
My profession is now in a field where I work with horses (well, not directly WITH the horses, but in the same facility as them). So I figured a cool name for a blog would be Hair Heels and Horses.
So, that's all for now. I think I'll go and scope other people's blogs to see what they're talking about... and how they're set up. I miss using my brain to learn lately - this is a good opportunity for me to use that mass behind my eyes.
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