fuck christmas, celebrate my birth.

this year i have baked, boiled, beaten, braised, brunched and barbecued more food than i previously knew existed. i've gone from blurry breakfast cell phone pics to post processed pig part pictures from a digital slr. alliteration almost aside, this has been a fucking fantastic year for food.

i'm going to be twenty seven in an hour and a half and, well, i'm stoked. getting older is getting better and i finally feel like i'm headed in a direction. i can't see which direction right now but i feel like i'm doing something right.

here's a link to the food i ate this year, people i got drunk with and stuff i rode past on my bicycle(s). thanks to the fellow gluttons, drunkards and well-wishers i've had over a hundred blog posts, a thousand photos on flickr and hazy memories of all of it. see ya next year, assholes!

goodbye, old friend.

you carried me home on drunken summer nights. you flew through ice and sleet like a fucking atv. your brakes barely worked and your chain fell off if i changed gears but, i loved you. thanks for the rides, the bails and all the ripped pantyhose. you will be missed, blue bike.

ah yes, another bike stolen at christmas. god rest ye merry thieves. i hope you pawned my only mode of transportation for cash... your crack babies and fat wife need presents!

gotta double bag those girls from oshawa

i have been eagerly awaiting the re-opening of stem restaurant on queen st. for almost a year. when they closed "for filming" and never reopened we were all worried the fucking croc store would expand or some other bullshit would move in but, last week a sign finally went up. when i saw the bqm logo i was a little disheartened. i mean, there's already two bqm's in toronto and neither is exceptional.

i ate at this location for the first time about an hour ago and it was alright. they aren't rocking the full menu yet but promise to have daily rotating blue plate specials (read: roast beef, meatloaf, pulled pork sandwiches, etc.) and all day breakfast seven days a week. i got the cheeseburger. it was bloody, tasted like meat and, in my carnivorous opinion, pretty perfect. the fries were thick but crispy and the staff was overly attentive (i was the only customer). if only those tattooed line cooks hadn't been making fun of "dirty" oshawa girls the whole time. i mean, i can say it because i lived there for twenty plus years and i have the right. you, sirs, do not... regardless of how many of us you've tried to fuck.

beet arthur

i'm often thankful for the neighbourhood i live in. i'm wedged between chinatown and kensington market so i've always got fresh goodies near by and the late fall/early winter is quickly becoming my favourite produce season! i bought three kinds of beets this week (who knew, right?). i roasted them all for awhile, ate a few burning hot chunks and threw the rest in with my brine mixture (getting better by the pickle, thanks for asking). the candy cane beet has weird colours like, uh, a candy cane and the golden one is a completely different taste than the classic purple guy. next up: local squash and apple soup. boom.

it's supposed to snow tonight, my phone told me so.

i bought a new phone yesterday. it's an htc magic. i'd been eyeing it for months and, honestly, couldn't be happier with it. i never thought i would have one of these cool, touch screen, smart phone, gps enabled, app downloading monsters but, hey, it's sleek and allows me to remotely download torrents, check the blogs i follow, learn about constellations, ensure shelves are level and make hilarious fart noises. who could ask for more? (actually, for reasons unknown the magic is incapable of caller display outside of my contact list. it's the one infuriating thing in an otherwise glorious device. hopefully a firmware update is in the midst.)

also this week, phil and i went out for ramen. i know what you're thinking (mr. noodles?) and you're half right. we were debating which ramen hut to visit and after an email from our mutual crushes, the food jammers, we stopped by their endorsed place, kenzo on dundas. the meal was simple but delicious. i would recommend it to anyone in the area with six bucks and twenty minutes to slurp, slop and savour the winter blahs away.

pho-pho-photura photos.

so, that camera i got for twenty bucks? it's pretty much the best! it really feels great to shoot film again.

a hundred posts later.

i rolled alone today because phil went to his parents' for american thanksgiving. i took the opportunity to buy him some christmas presents, take some pictures and visit the one of a kind show. shopping for others has become my favourite part of this quickly approaching/highly aggravating holiday season. i love the feeling of finding the perfect gift. i almost cried at the show because i was so excited. oh man, some of the shit there is extraordinary, over-priced in places, but really exceptional.

i was surprised at the amount of food vendors. i got to sample candied atlantic salmon, chocolate covered everything, coconut cashews, lobster mousse, country peach vinegar (wow), tons of smoked fish, locally grown herbal teas and endless bins of flavoured soybeans, nuts and dipping sauces.

i'm trying to think of a better way to spend a day but how can you beat wake and bake, groceries in kensington, breakfast with the paper at tequila bookworm, quick stop at the camera store, bike ride along the lake, one of a kind shopping followed by beers, food and photo editing? YOU CAN'T... but you should feel inspired to try.

oh, granny... you're so stylish.

i finally got my boots in the mail! i am so fucking pumped. go, online vintage shopping! best 29 bucks i've spent in a long time.

how can i help you today, dickface?

you know that feeling when you've helped someone? i mean, really informed them and provided excellent service and got them the product they didn't know they wanted but now cannot live without? it's like a first kiss or a great meal or a satisfying shit... it disappears as soon as some retard comes along and stares at your tits for twenty minutes while asking pointless questions in an attempt to start a conversation with a hottie they wouldn't have a fucking chance with in real life.

this is the bain of customer service. the idiots out number the friendlies. the perverts, assholes and sexists will continually ruin my (and maybe your) days at work but thank christ for the simpletons: the polite and eager-to-learn custies hold a place in my heart.

i would like to thank you, mr/s. considerate and smiling, for making an otherwise shit job a little more tolerable. if i could high five your parents, i would.

i'll be broke in a month.

i saw a mouse launch out of my cat's mouth last night. kim and i were screaming in our rubber boots and frantically chasing a tiny rodent around the living room until we lost it somewhere in behind our 500 vhs movies. i hope it doesn't chew through the kevin smith collection.

in other news, i found some fantastic gifts (for myself and others) online in the last week. i can't wait to start receiving packages in the mail. i know i'm a little late to the whole online shopping world but, fuck, i am having an outstanding time perusing vintage stores while at work. it really helps to pass the day.

i met up with a dude yesterday to buy a canon photura (20 bucks!) from craigslist. i'm pretty stoked to have an old 35mm camera that actually works and damn does it look cool. it's all pop can shaped and glorious. i'll keep everyone abreast of my delicious finds as they arrive at my door. damn that's convenient: this paypal business could be trouble.

the taste of blood, the taste of wine.

i went to active surplus yesterday and bought a glue gun that i'm pretty stoked about. we put it to good use last night when assembling our ornaments for the buffyfest holiday swap! how fucking nerdy is that, huh? i'm STOKED.

on the food front, i'm the best. i made some goat cheese and chocolate truffles one night (holyshitholyshitholyshit) and added some fresh beets and more eggs to my jar of brine the next. everything is purple and pickled and i couldn't be happier about it.

i'm in this weird part of my life where i'm working less but making more money than i ever have. i keep buying stuff online (read: vintage jars and granny boots) and worrying i'll run out of cash but it just doesn't happen. perhaps all the little transitions from party girl to dinner party lady have eased the money tensions. for me it literally pays to be responsible. weird.

hey chuck, feminism isn't the right word.

during our weekly friday-night-spitfist-jam-session-booze-fest some guys from work showed up at the space. we were a couple songs and a couple more tall cans in when they shyly shuffled through the door. the room was smaller than they had imagined so five of them were wedged up between amps and unused floor toms. i watched their expressions as they watched our sludgy, fart-filled set. this group of men "raised by women" gulped warm beer as we plowed through songs about terry fox being lazy, our vaginas being stretched by massive dicks and mouths being sliced apart by cpt. crunch (another dick).

stunned isn't the right word, but it's the only one that fits. it might have been my imagination. it could be that most girls make goat cheese & chocolate truffles and giggle over bacon before chanting "my dick is a clit" at 140 bpm... i wouldn't know.

i think the work-bros had a good time. i'm pretty sure it was a little more raucous than expected. i'm totally positive having hidden hard-ons in the room got our creative juices flowing (see what i did there?) and i'm alright with that. i mean, back in the days of playing live that was always my goal: to make people want to fuck me... and hey, if a bunch of babes hoarking, belching, screaming, gyrating and making fun of cripples is what does it for you: you're fucked. just like us. hello to you.

what the fuck is a tumblr?

it's pretty rare that i will link to anything i didn't personally create (actually, i can't really see the point of having a blog when it only consists of cross posted links and embedded videos the 'writer' had nothing to with) but i couldn't resist opening your eyes to this video. it is such a relief to find a current band that still writes songs! with structure! natural voices! skilled musicianship! artistry! this album is great and reminiscent of all my favourite late eighties euro dream pop. go fuzzy feelings and imperfect recordings!

i just found a blog called "food in jars" and well, it's self explanatory but AWESOME. i wanna make my own butter and preserve pickled carrots and banana ketchup and oh my god i'm so excited.

it's the same old song and bad dancing.

once a week, while on route to collect a cover charge at a local dance party, i pass by a group of thirty something women in a knitting collective. they're always drinking tea and gossiping and building elaborate scarves for their friends or etsy pages and i can't help but wonder if i belong there instead. i mean, why surround myself with children who, in the 90s, were learning their abc's while i was learning the fine art of fingerbanging in basements? for one day a week i sit, alone, in a room full of pretty young boys who struggle with the concept of a line and overtly sexual young girls who struggle with ill-fitting clothes inappropriate for their body type.

i think this foray into mainstream youth culture forces me to "act my age" the other six days of the week. i've found myself perusing diy renovation blogs at work in place of punknews sites. i've begun to slowly build up a life collection: an assembly of items i'll never have to buy again. (oh, how proud ed-norton-pre-tyler-durden would be.) i am constantly looking ahead to the day phil and i have our own apartment and i can build shelves, bake cookies and have (hopefully) amassed an analog graveyard/vintage closet so impressive and over-taking that i will be forced to open my own little shop.

in the interim (five more months!) i will endure the shiny clothing, the black outs and the dance floor handjobs because, well, adult life doesn't come cheap and this pseudo-babysitting gig has got me makin' it rain... on these stores.

the dead shall walk the earth... and eat pastries.

i fuckin love halloween. while this year was a slight disappointment on the raging front (read: waaaay over capacity party full of non-costumes) we ended up at a friend's house that was completely chill and she had made motherfucking dirt and worms! so, well, i was stoked.

earlier this week, kim and i painted up some mini pumpkins. you probably won't understand the images unless you're a buffy fanatic... but they're below... and cute!

on sunday (after washing my hair for the first time in years in an attempt to undo the rat's nest i teased up for my lydia deetz costume) phil and i went to honest ed's. i love junk and weirdos so i was pretty much in heaven. when i got home i cut open our painted pumpkins to make mini pies! after boiling them to remove the skins i was a little short for the recipe so i topped up the pureed pumpkin with fresh sweet potato. tons of sugar and some baking later... delicious yam & pumpkin tarts! i tried to whip some cream by hand but gave up after ten minutes and used the magic bullet. three seconds to vanilla infused whipped cream, buddy. i honestly ate six of them.

after all the sweetness last night, i felt i needed a big, greasy burger today. i stopped by avenue open kitchen and ordered a banquet burger with fries and gravy. it was life changing, artery clogging and goddamn perfect. i mean, hey, you don't go to a greasy spoon and get a fucking salad, right?

pickled egg recipe.

a bunch of people have been asking for my pickled egg recipe from a couple posts ago. here it is, you maniacs.

"beet root pickled eggs"

you can used canned beets - i juiced one. it's up to you. also, i couldn't find one big mason jar so i bought two little ones. they held three eggs each but use whatever size you have. these measurements worked for a half dozen eggs. adjust accordingly.

1/2 cup beet juice
3/4 cup cider vinegar (or any other flavour you like. 5% acidity minimum.)
1/4 cup white vinegar
clove of garlic (chopped in big pieces)
1 tbsp brown sugar (or any sugar other than white)

boil eggs for about 6-7 minutes. they shouldn't be wobbly or runny. let them cool completely. like, totally cold. carefully peel, put in jar(s). mix vinegars, beet juice, garlic and sugars until dissolved. remove the garlic (eggs will be deadly otherwise), pour liquid over eggs, seal the mason jar, pop it in the fridge and wait. i dug in after four days and they were fine but feel free to wait a week or longer!

mmm, bright red brine.

brine, sugar and lydia deetz.

the pickled eggs were, as doctor nick would say, a complete success! they've inspired me to try other food related experiments. i bought some little pumpkins in kensington this weekend that i plan to draw faces on (read: spike's rendering of angel on the punching bag) and later make mini pies with!

this weekend was a real blast. good friends, food and blacked out band practice. i took a ton of pictures of stuff i ate and ventured into the world of continuous shooting/gif animations with my new slr. the vice party was a joke, le petit dejeuner is my new favourite brunch spot and i teared up when michael j. serenaded us (with vocals and trumpet) at the communist's daughter when the jukebox shut off. on sunday, during groceries, phil and i slipped in a bunch of clothes shopping (again). i got a great slutty skirt, new gloves and the perfect dress for my halloween costume. pumped!

last night we started first season x-files on dvd and made some peanut butter cookies. i read a recipe online that suggested mixing the egg with the sugar first to make the cookies fluffy. good goddamn, it made all the difference in the world. i'm not quite a happy homemaker but i am on my way to being the queen of stoner couch eats. go, go ganja goodies!

inspired by the commie.

i decided today that in order to skip the gym i must do something creative or active. so today (in lieu of kundalini chanting) i ventured deep into the kitchen supply stores of chinatown and bought mason jars to make pickled eggs in. i saw a recipe last week that involved beet root juice and couldn't stop thinking about it. i had never used the juicer attachment on the magic bullet and beets are totally in season right now so i was stoked for the experiment.

while i was waiting for the eggs to cook i started the crossword from the newspaper the jars came wrapped in. it was too hard so i flipped the page over and found a word search. i totally finished it before the eggs were done. no big deal.

after cleaning and cutting the beet into manageable pieces i revved up the bullet and started shoving the chunks in. that didn't work (an infomercial lied to me!) so i eventually pureed them as mushy as i could and then juiced the pulp. it worked alright. i yielded 1/2 cup of juice from an eight ball sized beet... i added two parts cider and one part distilled vinegar, some brown sugar and smashed up garlic cloves. after mixing well, i poured the liquid over peeled hard-boiled eggs and screwed the lids on tight.

it's been three hours and all i can think about is eating a briny, red egg. i must wait, though. pickling takes time and i will respect the laws of nature. for now, kiiiiiiim! gimme a mini butterfinger!

i'll eat your glands with polenta and pine nuts.

saturday afternoon phil and i went to dufferin mall. i bought new tights (eight bucks!) with the intention of making them last. we got home, got dressed and went out to dinner. they caught on a snag the moment i sat down at the restaurant and exploded from ankle to crotch. FUCK.

i can't manage to keep pantyhose intact for longer than a night. i remember my mom washing hers and hanging them to dry over the shower curtain rod. i always assumed that was normal but, now, it seems completely fucking impossible. i've bought cheap, expensive, thick, thin, patterned, flat... i even bought thigh high socks in an effort to not shred them apart. no luck. within an hour of wriggling into them i'm either reaching for the clear nail polish or leaving my tights in shambles, crumpled in the washroom garbage at the bar.

are you a train wreck too? is it just my lifestyle? either way, don't wear expensive hose to the black hoof. the food is mind altering (read: fatty, smoky, creamy, decadent) but the booths are unfinished. you've been warned.

break downs and break beats are no longer mutually exclusive.

time passes and society evolves morphs. i get this. but, within change should come improvement, no? when one thing dissolves into another it becomes something else entirely and should therefore be titled as such. for instance, when a solid becomes a gas we don't still call it a solid. it's not a gasolid or a solidous mass or some other stupid term: it's a fucking gas. so, why, when "punk rock" dissolved into half-grown men gyrating in their underwear pseudo rapping about ho's or diamonds or "talking with your hips" did the labels not change?

a co-worker just forced me to watch a live performance by her favourite "band" because "dude totally can't sing live". what? is there some new wave of idiocy that humans over 25 are immune to and can't convey to their younger counterparts in monosyllabic enough sentences for them to realize that what is happening in today's "music" industry DOESN'T MAKE ANY GODDAMN SENSE?

i'm going to listen to analog recordings of poets whispering in forests in sweden because that's the closest antithesis to the trite i just subjected my eyes, ears and mindgrapes to. thank you youtube, you've confirmed my belief that the generation below, beneath and after mine is completely fucking doomed.

+ a friend (ally in the fight) just said it so poignantly, "bring it back to ugly people playing beautiful music."

i'm in love with martin picard.

feeling much better today. fresh snip, favourite shirt, fairly sunny.

maybe it was gluttony withdrawal. i ate my weight in foie gras this weekend and most of it was coated in gravy or maple syrup. my opinion of montreal has changed. quebecers are still pretty rude but the architecture more than made up for it. why does toronto tear down historic buildings with character to erect condos for yuppies? it's embarrassing, no? i live in a city with a rich history that is constantly erased and rebuilt. even in the (just shy of) ten years i've been here so many (personal) landmarks have shifted, disappeared or been completely destroyed by gentrification.

i would love to see myself living in a flat in a bike friendly city with a fire escape that faced into a secret garden with wafts of duck fat and smoked meat slipping heftily through the air. if only it weren't so goddamn cold dans la belle province.

humph.

i feel bad today. i don't feel sick or unhappy or mad. i don't want to cry and i don't want to scream. i tried to buy things. i wanted to change my mood with clothes or books or make-up. i spent the weekend in montreal and came back to the exact same situation i left. same job, same apartment, same bike, same city, some life. i'll probably feel fine tomorrow. i'll cut my hair and shave my legs and find some shirt i forgot i had and eat this chocolate and drink this wine and take this painkiller and capture it all in neat little sentences for strangers to read while i watch the same tv shows over and over and wish it was fucking spring already.