Really? Really. This is probably the best way that you can show your hometown, whether it's NYC or No-where Minnesota, that you're proud of where you're from. And also it allows for some great ways to see how creative you can get with your free styling. Free styling isn't free. It's hard.
So if you want to do something creative this weekend, a good idea would be to write a song.
Friday, January 21, 2011
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Cat Lovers can finally get Meow-ried!
I love weddings. The dresses, the cake, the misty eyes of the groom as he watches his bride walking down the aisle towards him, the weeks and weeks of planning that lead up to that moment.... It is all so good.
People have so many good ideas, too, when it comes to planning an executing a wedding, but that's also the moment when good people who have good ideas get brain freezes. I like to think of it as a sparkle/butter cream overload, and hence the reason why smart brides are surrounding themselves with a harem of smart women: if the bride gets bridal brain freeze, and if the maid of honor gets overwhelmed looking at rouge, you can always pull a third or fourth bridesmaid off the bench.
And though you would think I would advocate a good idea at this moment, I get sucker punched each time a wedding rolls around and I love all things that have to do with weddings. For the past three years, whenever a friend would tell me that they were getting married (heck, when the neighbor told me that her niece was getting married), I like to suggest going to Hawaii and getting "Maui'd".
Now I have something better for all my cat-loving friends out there. They can all get "Meow-ried".
I searched for this word on the web, and it does exist. I'm just going to bring it to the present of our marriage language.
Prrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.
People have so many good ideas, too, when it comes to planning an executing a wedding, but that's also the moment when good people who have good ideas get brain freezes. I like to think of it as a sparkle/butter cream overload, and hence the reason why smart brides are surrounding themselves with a harem of smart women: if the bride gets bridal brain freeze, and if the maid of honor gets overwhelmed looking at rouge, you can always pull a third or fourth bridesmaid off the bench.
And though you would think I would advocate a good idea at this moment, I get sucker punched each time a wedding rolls around and I love all things that have to do with weddings. For the past three years, whenever a friend would tell me that they were getting married (heck, when the neighbor told me that her niece was getting married), I like to suggest going to Hawaii and getting "Maui'd".
Now I have something better for all my cat-loving friends out there. They can all get "Meow-ried".
I searched for this word on the web, and it does exist. I'm just going to bring it to the present of our marriage language.
Prrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Bird Feeders for your Bike
Montreal in the summer, especially around the plateau area. Not where the students live, not the McGill Ghetto, but the dirty and artsy and creative vivacious part of the city where the tourist will walk around and think, "Yes, this is a city."
In the summer, when it gets hot, too hot to even ride your bike anywhere, you just want to lay down on the concrete floor of your friend's apartment, sipping water because even beer can't get cool enough, wouldn't it be nice if we did something for the birds?
In the summer, when it gets hot, too hot to even ride your bike anywhere, you just want to lay down on the concrete floor of your friend's apartment, sipping water because even beer can't get cool enough, wouldn't it be nice if we did something for the birds?
Chicken T-Shirts, Least We Forget
This past weekend, while the boyfriends and husbands and the men of Montreal took to the ponds and outdoor ice rinks with memories of glory and hockey sticks, I thought, "Why not me too?"
Actually, it was my best friend of 12 years who prodded me to get on the ice. With a wrench and a promise of a hot chocolate, she told me to lace up my skates and show those boys a lesson or two.
As Bruce Springsting likes to say, I had my glory days, and with each year that goes by, I looked better and better as an 18-year old girl on the boy's junior Varsity team. Sure, I was smaller and I got the heck beaten out of me. The best part was that I was arrogant. I thought I was good, neigh, I thought I was great. I thought my skating skills would keep me from getting killed (they didn't), and that I would be smooth enough to get a few past the goalies. Turns out you need brute force to keep you on your feet, something that I forget about when I watch NHL games. Those guys out there are strong.
But I laced up. Actually, before I laced up I had to find my skates, which hadn't been used in over 12 years. They were tucked away behind some extra dry wall in the garage, and with my eyes closed I reached into each foot to make sure some mouse or spider didn't make a nest. They didn't. Phew.
Without going into too many details, I am still awesome. For someone who hates to be outside, and who isn't a fan of watching hockey, I love to play the game. I love it when my lungs burn from the cold air, and how well my body+brain know the game. Playing against teenagers and old men, well, it's not rocket science, but at least I got the nod.
Which brings us to the idea of the day. While my skates were cool back in the day, and cost a very cool $120 dollars, they look really lame and not that good today. Today a good pair of skates start at around $200-400, and people will pay, even if they'll only play pond hockey. While I bought the best in my day, the average of today wasn't available.
So let's make a t-shirt that says, "Even the smartest chicken in the world can't read this shirt", with a picture of a rooster or chicken on it. Why? Because times may change, and what will once be good will become average, but that doesn't affect the point that chickens today can't read.
But maybe someday they will.
Actually, it was my best friend of 12 years who prodded me to get on the ice. With a wrench and a promise of a hot chocolate, she told me to lace up my skates and show those boys a lesson or two.
As Bruce Springsting likes to say, I had my glory days, and with each year that goes by, I looked better and better as an 18-year old girl on the boy's junior Varsity team. Sure, I was smaller and I got the heck beaten out of me. The best part was that I was arrogant. I thought I was good, neigh, I thought I was great. I thought my skating skills would keep me from getting killed (they didn't), and that I would be smooth enough to get a few past the goalies. Turns out you need brute force to keep you on your feet, something that I forget about when I watch NHL games. Those guys out there are strong.
But I laced up. Actually, before I laced up I had to find my skates, which hadn't been used in over 12 years. They were tucked away behind some extra dry wall in the garage, and with my eyes closed I reached into each foot to make sure some mouse or spider didn't make a nest. They didn't. Phew.
Without going into too many details, I am still awesome. For someone who hates to be outside, and who isn't a fan of watching hockey, I love to play the game. I love it when my lungs burn from the cold air, and how well my body+brain know the game. Playing against teenagers and old men, well, it's not rocket science, but at least I got the nod.
Which brings us to the idea of the day. While my skates were cool back in the day, and cost a very cool $120 dollars, they look really lame and not that good today. Today a good pair of skates start at around $200-400, and people will pay, even if they'll only play pond hockey. While I bought the best in my day, the average of today wasn't available.
So let's make a t-shirt that says, "Even the smartest chicken in the world can't read this shirt", with a picture of a rooster or chicken on it. Why? Because times may change, and what will once be good will become average, but that doesn't affect the point that chickens today can't read.
But maybe someday they will.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Harry Potter Bolloywood Style
Two great ideas: wizards and a cast of over a hundred dancing and singing the storyline.
The Harry Potter movies have gotten a little depressing, dark and emotionally turbulent. It would be nice to add in some bright colors, a few solos, and yes, the dancing.
The Harry Potter movies have gotten a little depressing, dark and emotionally turbulent. It would be nice to add in some bright colors, a few solos, and yes, the dancing.
Gorillas in the Mist-The Musical
Gorillas in the Mist-The Musical. The words sound magical together, glittery and sparkly, as if they're already lite up on a sign in front of a theater on Broadway. The moving story of a young woman in her quest to understand the gentle yet murderous Gorillas. Jane Goodall herself is a herself an iconic figure of our history: a woman, a person learning, the concept of field work, the idea of being along in all this, yet the world was able to watch through the pictures in the National Geographic.
And Kayne West should write the music.
And Kayne West should write the music.
Monday, January 10, 2011
The Cheese Egg
There are a few words I have spoken in my youth that I have come back to eat in my old (30 years old) age.
1. Running is dumb, Age 22. At age 25 I completed a marathon.
2. Buying a home is for people who give up on traveling, Age 23. At 29 I started house hunting because paying rent, especially exorberant (SP) amounts in order to live in a 'nice' place, is cutting into my travel funds.
3. Foodies are just old, fat people who are too lazy to leave their home, age 19. At age 26, I realized that no only am I a better cook than most chefs that hack away at a tomato (and call it salsa), but I have ideas on how food should look, too.
Plating is fun, whether it's adding a sprig of fresh basil on the side of the plate or buying a funky bowl to serve soup in. But can't we take it farther?
At a Serbian Christmas party that I recently attended, I was blown away by the amount of food they put out on the tables. There were trays and trays of hard boiled eggs, sliced in quarters, and slices of cheese. Cheese and hard boiled eggs.
"It's a shame that you couldn't combine the two...."
At first I thought of getting a huge block of cheese, and then carving a hole in the middle in order to insert the egg. "And then you cover the egg in some melted cheese, let it harden, and then you can slice it and have hard boiled egg wrapped in cheese."
I wasn't focusing on taste (do hard boiled eggs taste good with cheese? Or is it a hat attack waiting to happen?), but I was focusing on vision. I was seeing the cheese-egg combination on a plate, and then thinking, "if you take white mozza cheese as the egg white, and then sharp orange cheddar to be the yolk, you could make cheese look like a fried egg, sunny side up.
Or you can make a combination of mozza and cheddar cheese look like a hard-boiled egg. Wouldn't that be fun to slice up for your friends?
Now all I need to do is create a prototype of a cheese mold that will make my cheese look like eggs, and a market for cheese that looks like eggs, and I'll be rich...
1. Running is dumb, Age 22. At age 25 I completed a marathon.
2. Buying a home is for people who give up on traveling, Age 23. At 29 I started house hunting because paying rent, especially exorberant (SP) amounts in order to live in a 'nice' place, is cutting into my travel funds.
3. Foodies are just old, fat people who are too lazy to leave their home, age 19. At age 26, I realized that no only am I a better cook than most chefs that hack away at a tomato (and call it salsa), but I have ideas on how food should look, too.
Plating is fun, whether it's adding a sprig of fresh basil on the side of the plate or buying a funky bowl to serve soup in. But can't we take it farther?
At a Serbian Christmas party that I recently attended, I was blown away by the amount of food they put out on the tables. There were trays and trays of hard boiled eggs, sliced in quarters, and slices of cheese. Cheese and hard boiled eggs.
"It's a shame that you couldn't combine the two...."
At first I thought of getting a huge block of cheese, and then carving a hole in the middle in order to insert the egg. "And then you cover the egg in some melted cheese, let it harden, and then you can slice it and have hard boiled egg wrapped in cheese."
I wasn't focusing on taste (do hard boiled eggs taste good with cheese? Or is it a hat attack waiting to happen?), but I was focusing on vision. I was seeing the cheese-egg combination on a plate, and then thinking, "if you take white mozza cheese as the egg white, and then sharp orange cheddar to be the yolk, you could make cheese look like a fried egg, sunny side up.
Or you can make a combination of mozza and cheddar cheese look like a hard-boiled egg. Wouldn't that be fun to slice up for your friends?
Now all I need to do is create a prototype of a cheese mold that will make my cheese look like eggs, and a market for cheese that looks like eggs, and I'll be rich...
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Empty Box Trumps All Other Gifts
The thing about buying gifts for kids these days, or adults, or your pets, is the reality that there will always be something cooler, trendier, or with aps that you're not buying. You decided that the perfect gift for your grandmother is an electronic reader, because she loves to read so much. You buy the latest kindle online, a pretty smart move because kindles are sold out in stores all across the state of Wisconsin and Minnesota. You're feeling pretty good about yourself and your purchase, but oh, wait, what's that? Your co-worker tells you that he tried both the Ipad and the Kindle, and the Ipad is far superior. You read an article that says Google is coming out with something in February that will make the Kindle look archaic. Suddenly you're wondering if you're grandmother didn't prefer going to the library for the social aspect of the checking out book process.
Now replace the word "grandmother" in that last paragraph with "sister", "niece", "estranged bff", or "scary co-worker who expects a gift", and replace "Kindle" with "hat", "earrings", "car starter", or "box of organic, fair traded and locally made chocolates". While Google may not be entering in the confectionery business any time soon, gift giving is really a leap of faith because what you will buy will never be the best.
Unless...you let the person decide for themselves what the best would be.
This year for Christmas, after much hemming and hawing over what would be a good gift for a six-year-old, we decided to go with...an empty box. It was three feet high by two feet wide and two feet long. For whimsical sake, we did throw in a couple of helium balloons, so that when she opened the box she would be surprised by something jumping out at her (note: we did toy with the idea that grumpy Uncle Mike would jump out of the box, but that would mean making breathing holes, etc, so we left it at helium balloons).
"What is it?" cried out the six-year old after she opened the now-empty box.
"A space ship?" I suggested.
"It looks like a secret fairy house." Her mother loved the idea.
"I think it's a toy box." The father called out.
Pretty soon the six-year old was deciding what the box could be, creative ideas ranging from a a spy box from Russia (no idea where that came from), underwater house for bathtime Barbie, Cave Land, and storage space for all the house pillows.
Empty boxes are pretty entertaining gifts for six-year olds, but would 80 year old grandmothers feel the same way. I handed my grandmother a pretty box. She opened it and saw that it was empty, and then looked at the lid.
"It's peace." I said, pointing to the label at the bottom. She looked at the box again, smiled, and laughed.
"The women at the bridge club will love this! Can I give it away?"
"Of course!" I responded. In my bag of presents I also had an empty box of Harry Potter's used magical spells for my sister, an invisible hug from a unicorn for my estranged bff, and a box with the promise of a better year for the co-worker.
Now replace the word "grandmother" in that last paragraph with "sister", "niece", "estranged bff", or "scary co-worker who expects a gift", and replace "Kindle" with "hat", "earrings", "car starter", or "box of organic, fair traded and locally made chocolates". While Google may not be entering in the confectionery business any time soon, gift giving is really a leap of faith because what you will buy will never be the best.
Unless...you let the person decide for themselves what the best would be.
This year for Christmas, after much hemming and hawing over what would be a good gift for a six-year-old, we decided to go with...an empty box. It was three feet high by two feet wide and two feet long. For whimsical sake, we did throw in a couple of helium balloons, so that when she opened the box she would be surprised by something jumping out at her (note: we did toy with the idea that grumpy Uncle Mike would jump out of the box, but that would mean making breathing holes, etc, so we left it at helium balloons).
"What is it?" cried out the six-year old after she opened the now-empty box.
"A space ship?" I suggested.
"It looks like a secret fairy house." Her mother loved the idea.
"I think it's a toy box." The father called out.
Pretty soon the six-year old was deciding what the box could be, creative ideas ranging from a a spy box from Russia (no idea where that came from), underwater house for bathtime Barbie, Cave Land, and storage space for all the house pillows.
Empty boxes are pretty entertaining gifts for six-year olds, but would 80 year old grandmothers feel the same way. I handed my grandmother a pretty box. She opened it and saw that it was empty, and then looked at the lid.
"It's peace." I said, pointing to the label at the bottom. She looked at the box again, smiled, and laughed.
"The women at the bridge club will love this! Can I give it away?"
"Of course!" I responded. In my bag of presents I also had an empty box of Harry Potter's used magical spells for my sister, an invisible hug from a unicorn for my estranged bff, and a box with the promise of a better year for the co-worker.
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