Insanity

Sound travels strangely in apartment buildings. I know this. I know that the hammering that feels like it is RIGHT behind my couch could be coming from anywhere in this building.

When I had full-time jobs that took me out of my apartment this wasn't a problem. There would be the odd tapping and banging, but nothing to get me irate. I invented a character to explain the various sounds away: the Carpenter Chihuahua.

Often, the tapping was light, and then there would ocassionally be the sound of a bell bouncing around on the floor - that is, my ceiling. For some reason, a chihuhua wielding a small hammer came to mind. Perhaps he built curio cabinets. Or mini race-tracks for his little cars. And obviously he had a collar that had a bell on it - which he did not wear, but rather, constantly pushed out of the way.

Now, however, I am home, and the incessant tapping, banging, hammering (not loud enough to really complain about, not long enough to tune out - just these short bursts) is making me CRAZY. It's beyond curio cabinets. He's obviously building wooden maquettes of the wonders of Europe. He probably on to Pisa now. Jerk.

And what do I do? Stalk each corridor till I locate the sound, then call security and say, "I know where the chihuahua is!"?

No, I'll just stay here, going crazier. Screw him. I'll teach my cat how to use a jig-saw and make metal sculptures so there will be grrrinding metal and screeeching metal all day long and then we'll see who's crazy.

Miracle Water

50 Cent share of Vitamin Water just went up.

When I saw everyone drinking those in L.A., I should've known, I should've known.

Oh well...

hat tip "haute gossip" via "hip candy"

Monday Morning

I usually keep this post apolitical, but there's nothing like silencing dissent old-school to leave a bad taste in your mouth after breakfast. (It wasn't just my attempt to add both strawberries and maple syrup to my oatmeal.) I'm not a fan of Chavez, in case you don't glean it from the link.

Belatedly, on a similar topic, blogger Sandmonkey has decided to shut down for his own safety while the State Security buzzards circle overhead. He added one more post after the one I link to wherein he describes his reasons in more detail.

Well, topics to research, articles to write, progress to make...

Procrastination

melodramatically swooning on chaise lounge, hand fluttering up to forehead

I haaaaate revising. I looooathe it.

I'm not really on a chaise. I'm at a cafe on Santa Monica called "Cafe Marco". Fun vibe, full of folks on laptops, free wi-fi. I've been sitting here revising for an hour.

I also eavesdropped on two men talking about parrots while waiting for my coffee.
I also ruined my iced coffee by putting Splenda in it. I keep trying to like Splenda, but it tastes dreadful.

I also found this article about opposums and their genetics at the Globe and Mail website.

Now I'm going back to revising. Really.
No, I'm lying. I'm going to add one more thing:
I also bought this skirt at Target the other day, and I'm wearing it now and I loooove it. I looove it as much as I haaaaate revising.

Ok, there. That's all. Poor pitiful woeful me will go back to her dreadful wretched revisions now. sniff

R.I.P. Isabella Blow

Sadly, the style-eccentric with the eye for impeccable talent, Isabella Blow died Monday May 7th. The Los Angeles Times obit is here and it seems to be (at a glance) less salacious than The Daily Mail from the U.K.

I was shocked to see Ms. Blow mentioned in the past tense - I'd only ever seen her in clips on fashion television shows, but she seemed like a force to be reckoned with. Apparently though, behind the panache she had suffered from ovarian cancer and depression.

I expect that Vogue, Tatler, and plenty of other fashion mags will write up tributes, and we might hear from Alexander McQueen and others whose careers she helped fledge.

I only knew of her through television, websites and magazines, but I'll miss her. Like Kevyn Aucoin, she made her mark in an industry that sometimes seems to favour gimmick over quality, by always honing in on quality. She was a muse, an icon, and a guard of high standards. I think I'll wear red lipstick tomorrow in her honour.

Slurpee Sadness

I went a-walkin' in Los Angeles today. I walked and walked to get my free comics at Meltdown the comic book store (not to be confused with Meltdown the grilled cheese emporium).

It was hot out and as I neared the 7-11, I thought, "I haven't had a Slurpee in years". So I went in. Imagine my horror when I discovered that
(a) the Coke flavour wasn't ready yet
(b) there was NO SPRITE flavour (?!), and
(c) all the other flavours were either revolting or trying to be healthy

Crystal Light Sugar-Free Raspberry Lemonade?
Tropical Orange Full Throttle Frozen Fury (with ginseng, taurine, caffeine, and guarana) - like a slushy Red Bull? What's a "tropical orange", anyway?

Anyhow, all the other flavours were unappealing, so I chose the raspberry lemonade, and it was vile. I threw it out at Wendy's, but kept the Spidey cup, and bought myself a Frosty instead.

The difference between American and Canadian slurpees are here: "...the Canadian product is heavier and wetter, the difference being that the American product is injected with air and is therefore drier. This is why you can feel that itch in the back of the throat when you drink it--that's the air bubbles. The American stores have been using Cornelius equipment where as in Canada we have been using Taylor for years . Although both machines perform for their specific markets, they do create different products".

That explains part of my revulsion. Remember when you could just mix Coke and Sprite and know exactly how it would taste?

Also, did you know that Winnipeg, Manitoba is the biggest consumer of Slurpees in North America? Someone's already making a documentary about it. I wouldn't have predicted Winnipeg. I guess Tim Horton's didn't open enough locations there or something.

Fly Sweater

Remember those Weight Watcher's Recipe Cards from Pound?

This is very similar, but in sweaters.
So painful, but so good - and it's spawned a 'send your own hideous sweater pic' site called The Sweater Guy.

Oh, I had some bad bad sweaters in previous decades... but luckily for you, I don't have photos of them. Synthetic yellow with silver threads, a fuzzy white one with a primary colours house scene (kindergarden teacher hott), and the "gee, I hope this makes me look feminine enough so that a boy looks twice at me" pink Cotton Ginny. I wore the pink Cotton Ginny monstrosity EVERY FRIDAY FOR A YEAR, so a certain boy in grade 8 in a particular class would notice me. It didn't work. Luckily.

Bloodletting

I'm sitting here, using ALL my ENERGY to write a new first chapter for the book. I've written 122 words and I hate each one.

I think, "Arrrgh, this is like bloodletting". Then it occurs to me that bloodletting is actually easier. In bloodletting, the leeches do all the work. In revisions you do all the work.

I say, bring on the leeches.

Too Much Information

If you know me at all, you probably know I'm a little bit obsessed with hair. Here are some places I've discovered on my travels that I thought I ought to share with the general public. Only read if you're as obsessed as I am.

HAIR or UN-HAIR

1) Gregory Parvatan cuts curly hair and knows what he's doing at Rapunzel in Toronto. I'm sure I've mentioned him before.

2) In Vancouver, Granville Street hosts clubs, bars, crepes, and Sugarbox. I didn't go there, but they seem to know what they're doing, and were very nice in returning my phone call.

3) WAX on Melrose in Los Angeles. Horrible horrible website, but beautiful salon (like stepping into a Wedgewood place setting), with extremely COMPETENT and well-mannered estheticians who do what they do VERY WELL. I HIGHLY recommend this place. They've been written up by Daily Candy and were featured in a funny article in L.A. Weekly.

One of my estheticians there said that she moved to L.A. from Oakland, where she worked at her parents' salon for ten years. She said, "When I moved to L.A., I worked at an eyebrow salon, where all I did was wax eyebrows. My mother couldn't believe I could make a living off of just eyebrows, but that's L.A.".

4) And speaking of specializing, there's also Queen Bee in L.A. They only do bikini and eyebrows. Again, I haven't been there, but they seem to talk about waxing like they take it seriously. And really, if you're going to pay someone to rip your hair out by the root, they better take it seriously!

There, that's my good deed for the day. You're welcome.