Meet my new best friends.
At least for the winter. And the box they came in. I work in an industrial area of the city, towards the north but not north north. After five years downtown, it came as a bit of a culture shock. For instance, no one walks or takes the bus. At least, it seems they didn’t when the area was built, because there are no sidewalks on the side of the major six-lane on which I work. There’s a half-block-long poorly landscaped stretch just before my building which has turned into a treacherous frozen tundra-like surface this week. Which is a good chunk of the reason why I had five plus near-wipeouts on the walk to and from the bus stop today alone, complete with windmilling arms and, I’m sure, bated breath on the part of spectators (if there were any).
In an effort to spare myself the pulled muscles and bruised body parts inherent in wiping out on ice and snow, I picked myself up a pair of Yak Trax. Out of the box, the best word to describe them is… industrial. Rubber with steel springs wrapped around them. But, hey, snow chains aren’t exactly sexy, either. Unless you swing that way. Which is a perfectly valid lifestyle choice. To each their own, I say. It takes all kinds and all that. Wait, I’m talking about YakTrax… Anyway, my mom had spied these in a Hedonics catalogue and suggested they might be a good idea for me.
Mom knows what she’s talking about.
To give them the worst test I could think of, I wore the Ultimate Bad Winter Shoes this morning, my Doc Martens. They may be able to trek through oil, fire, acid et al (at least according to the bottom of the soles), but they seize up in sub-zero temperatures and you’d be better off traction-wise walking in socks. My Docs have been the cause of more than one bruised tailbone since I bought them six years ago. But–they’re Docs, so I love them anyway.
But I digress. I trekked across two parking lots on my way to the bus stop this morning without a single moment of doubt and strode confidently across the aforementioned frozen wasteland. Granted, it’s not as secure footing as walking on bare pavement, but come on. It’s winter. It’s ice, it’s snow. Caveat: from reviews I’ve read, if you wear YakTrax on vinyl flooring and can’t do the splits, well, you’ll soon be able to. It’s kind of a pain to put them on and take them off and they get a bit messy, but they’re way less of a pain than changing shoes. (I’ll be carrying a plastic bag with me to stow these in for the rest of the winter.) One did get away from me as I was getting off the bus, but they go on easily and stayed on through the ice and snow. Oh, and you’ll never be able to sneak up on someone if you’re wearing these. Even on bare pavement, the scraping of the metal makes a distinct crunching sound. So don’t get these if you’re a ninja.
For $29.99 + GST, it’s worth the peace of mind.
November 1st, 2006
So… I’m a product junkie. I think I’ve established that. But in the past few months I’ve become, more specifically, a Lush junkie. www.ca.lush.com. I now have more soap than I could probably use in a year, but I’m going to dang well try.
I’m calling these reviews “haiku-esque” because, although I’m trying to stay to the haiku’s syllabic restrictions, a haiku should be composed of three separate but related thoughts, generally about nature, with the last line providing a twist or insight. In a nutshell. This is the heart of the haiku aesthetic that escapes most people. But hopefully a restriction to three lines and a 5-7-5 syllabic pattern will result in a taut, distilled-to-its-essence review–because I have a lot of product to mention. (And yes, I’m ripping the idea off of Maxim but Maxim’s gone so downhill of late it’s deserving of ripping off.)
Coalface Facial Soap
Smells kinda funky.
Ah, crud, a mess in the sink…
Hey, where’d my zits go?
Herbalism Facial Cleanser
Green, clean, scrubby bits–
It’s practic’ly edible.
Four stars out of five.
Sexy Peel Squishy Soap
Citrus wake-up call
Bright lemon yellow scrubbings
I think I’m in love.
Mud Flats Soap
Rhassoul mud, site says
“Detoxifying” claims made
Where are the bubbles?
Powdry Deodorant Powder
Armpits and feet
Lightly dusted, smell like pine
Hey! Dry! Dry! Dry! Wow!
Icy Blue Soap
Bought for the colour,
But it smells like old lady.
Hello? Where’s the mint?
Snowcake Soap
Quite moisturizing, but,
I’ve never seen snow this white
That smelled like coconut.
Whoosh Shower Jelly
Love the smell and colour.
Yet more lemony goodness
Like washing with Jell-o.
Karma Cologne
Orange creamsicles?
Guy at improv: “Who smells like incense?”
Note to self: Use less.
Cosmetic Lad Moisturizer
Same scent as Karma
A little on the heavy side…
Perfect for winter.
Seanick Shampoo Bar
Three swipes and BAM! suds!
Lightly scented, seaweed bits
Ahhh, squeaky cleanliness…
Jungle Conditioner Bar
Solid conditioner?
Awkward to use at first…
But this smell screams “LUSH!!!!”
October 27th, 2006
“I’m so metal, I punched a care bear.”
“a black care bear?”
“does an emo bear count?”
October 14th, 2006
Coke “Blak”
I paid: $6.99 + dep + GST for four 227mL bottles
Yes, “Coke Blak”, missing one ‘c’ and technically with a squiggle over the ‘a’, which would render the pronounciation as “blaaayeaahahahahaaaack” or something. But I nitpick. I didn’t know what this was when I picked it up. Nor did I know it would work out to over $1.50/bottle after taxes and deposit. So I took my first taste without any preconceptions or expectations for it. After finishing two bottles and reading some background, I now know it’s supposed to be two of my favorite things (Coke and coffee) together in the same bottle, with some sugar replaced with artificial sweetners and “coffee essence” in lieu of actual *coffee*.
Observation: this is less fizzy than regular Coke. Flavour: tastes suspiciously like “kuroame”, or Japanese “black candy”. For those to whom that frame of reference means nothing, let’s say you’re a little zoned one evening, you’ve got a hankerin’ for some regular Coke, and you happen to have a semi-full 2L bottle in your fridge. You grab the nearest cup-like-receptacle and start pouring in the Coke. At the first sip you realize that you grabbed a used coffee cup with a little “debris” now mixed in with your Coke. In fact, you can “preview” the taste for yourself by mixing some cold coffee with some fresh Coke C2. Go on, I’ll wait.
Okay, know what I’m talking about now? It’s kind of caramel-y, kind of coke-y, kind of coffee-y. Kinda like Kahlua, but not. If you happen to like that flavour, go get yourself some kuroame from T&T (or your local Asian/Japanese food retailer). All the flavour with none of the caffeine and less carbonation. Actually, that description leads me to my assessment. Less caffeine than coffee. Less sugar and fizz than coke. With a taste somewhere in between. More money than either. Whatever your craving, it’s likely you can find something more suitable than this offering from Coca-Cola, especially at this pricepoint.
They say the French version (the drink was originally introduced in France) is more coffee-y, less Coke-y. Based on my Euro-pop experiences, it’s probably about as carbonated–which might make for a tasty coffee-type drink, like a carbonated frappacino without the milk. That being said, this particular drink does go very well in a 50/50 mix with milk.
October 14th, 2006
I did a quick email poll of some friends a few days ago after receiving birthday greetings from Brendon Small and nearly losing my head and lunch with excitement.
“I’m 34 years old. does there ever come a day when the slightest attentions of a member of the opposite sex whom I find attractive don’t reduce me to a dorky buck-toothed drooling mass of incoherent and maybe more than slightly unnerving in their ardent adoration borderline distracted to the point of useless hormones???”
“no.”
“No.”
“No. You’re not dead.”
“No.”
“Maybe once you turn 65.”
You get the idea.
Kill me now.
September 15th, 2006
Her career advice: “You know, if you were an arms trader, you could have a private jet. But it’s not worth it to be a small-time arms trader. You have to be the big wheel. Then you could have lots of young lovers and a private jet.”
September 11th, 2006
I saw Pearl Jam live last summer. Two thoughts I had afterwards that I ran across in an old email:
1. I admire a band that’s not afraid of 6/8 time.
2. does eddie vedder ever wake up in the morning and think to himself “holy crap, I’m eddie vedder”? because he’s entitled if he doesn’t.
August 11th, 2006
Or something close to it.
I am not a morning person, and never will be. But I can fake it well enough to keep up the early start for the time being, Starting close to the summer solstice was probably the best situation I could hope for–starting an early gig in the dead of winter would have been a million times more painful. It doesn’t feel quite so early with the sun almost fully up when I get to the bus stop.
And, of course, getting paid a fair sight more than in my last gig gives some incentive. The decent free coffee helps, although I really miss not being able to duck out in the middle of the afternoon to go shopping. I also definitely miss having a near-infinite selection of lunch options in five food courts accessible via pedway. And I miss the incidentals–having my dentist, tailor, stylist, massage therapist et al so close I could drop in during my lunch hour. So I guess I’m still acclimating.
I’m in fear of getting fired for being found out for too much surfing, too much napping, not enough productivity or a combination of the above and becoming the cautionary tale whispered to the newbies–”Oh, we had a systems analyst who barely lasted a month before she got fired for not doing anything.”
But I think, unfortunately, I might be the nearest thing to a metalhead in the department.
July 23rd, 2006
First, a quote from Steve: “Ebay: The world’s largest and most expensive garage sale.”
Back in my second year of compsci, I developed a huge crush on my 201 TA. Or, as I referred to him, “Rob, the Tongue-Pierced Tattoo-Footed Guitar-Playin’ Codin’ God”. We became friends, drank some beer, roughhoused in the lab and had some mutual friends, but nothing ever came of it. Not least because, I’m sure, as one of my friends puts it, I “flirt like [I'm] in grade four”.
Flash-forward to the end of my third year. Rob is graduating and throwing a “disco party” at his house and extends an invite. Our social circles overlap by maybe two people at this point, so I asked a friend of mine, Susan, to go, promising her many gin and tonics and the prospect of young virile men. But Susan, being Susan, I suppose, flaked out on me an hour or two before we were supposed to meet.I debated for some time whether or not I was brave enough to go on my own. The first hour or two would be painfully awkward until everyone was sufficiently inebriated for me to talk to strangers. (Ah, alcohol, the K-Y of social intercourse.) But then I hit on a plan. Knowing Rob had adopted a dog not long before, I picked up some dog treats on my way to the party.
I arrived and, as expected, the two mutual friends Rob and I had weren’t there. I spent a lifetime–twenty or thirty minutes–trying to entertain myself as people hunkered down in their cliques among people they knew. I held out as long as I could, then called his dog into the empty backyard. For another half hour or so I played with her and fed her. Then I sent her back inside and followed a few minutes later. By this point I was feeling a little braver and people were a littler more drunk, so I was a little more comfortable imposing myself on people and spontaneously introducing myself.
Later that night I was talking to Rob when his dog came over and started nuzzling my hand and rubbing against my legs, looking at me expectantly. “Wow,” said Rob, “she really likes you…”
“Yeah,” I said, “I’m really good with dogs.”
Anyway, the party turned out fine and at some point I may or may not have fessed up to Rob.
We lost touch after he graduated–not like we had any reason to stay in touch. I ran into him now and again on Whyte and if I was bored at work, I’d google him (to no avail). The last time I ran into him was about a year and a half ago. I had just arrived back from a business trip to Switzerland at midnight the night before and was running on very little sleep. Not a time you want to be running into an old flame, especially when you’re so tired that after the “hey, how’s it going?”s the only thing you can think of to say is “I just got back from Switzerland 8 hours ago!”
Today I was running a Yamaha violin through some paces at work when I happened on the brilliant idea to play “Summer of ‘69″. Which, of course, I then had to share with other staff on the guitar side of the store. Playing violin and singing at the same time is HARD. REALLY HARD. So needless to say, I was butchering it badly, much to the amusement of other staff.
Then I realized Rob was poking through the picks on the counter and laughing at me.
We chatted for a few minutes before some stupid rugrat yard-ape kid on the drums literally drove his dog out of the store. Any maternal instincts I might have had were repeatedly stabbed in the heart as I watched Rob get dragged out of the store by his poor dog. He’s quit the industry and gone back to school for an Ed degree. I’m not sure I’m taking much away from that except that it’s gonna be when you least expect it that you’re going to run into those you least expect.
And that I still flirt like I’m in grade four.
July 8th, 2006
It occurred to me today that my brother put the “art” in “fart” when he farted on my head some years back.
Tomorrow marks the end of week two with Epcor. With my a/c and deregulationr kicking in, my electricity bill promises to amount to the proverbial pound of flesh.
This week’s soundtrack: the “Home Movies” season 4 bonus CD, Mediaeval Babes - “Mirabilis”, Chris Isaak - “Best of”, Queen - “Night at the Opera” and a mix CD the 5D CS team lead made for me as a parting gift packed with classic metal.
July 6th, 2006
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