15

Dec. ’10

Shop Til You Have Carpal Tunnel Syndrome

Praying Angel Wall Art on Shuter, 2 blocks east of the Eaton Centre

Thankfully my son doesn`t read my blog so I can talk about him while he sits up in his room playing Pokemon Revenge for hours on end.  I know what you are thinking:  “Foolish woman, she thinks her teenage son is “playing Pokemon” alone in his room, yeah right!”  Believe me, I wish he were watching porn, then the odds would be better that he moves out the house before he is 30.  He also plays the ukulele.  And sings.  He is bilingual as well:  English and Caveman.  Caveman is pretty cryptic, but I can still understand it from my teenhood:  One grunt (Humh) means “yes” and two grunts (Humh mhum) means “I don’t know” which could mean yes or no.  Sometimes with teenagers “no” means “yes” because when you ask them if they want a grilled cheese sandwich, they might grunt out negatively but when they see you with yours, they say: “Where’s mine, Mother?” and then their diction is perfect.  To add even more confusion, I asked Freddy what he wanted for Christmas and he said:  “Ham and cheese.”  I know what you’re thinking:  “Foolish woman, he is probably smoking salvia up on his deck and he is so stoned that he wants food for Christmas.”  Believe me, I wish he was smoking salvia, then I could buy him a real fancy bong with a matching lighter in his stocking.  Like seriously, a 14 year old man-cub is probably the worst person to shop for so he is just getting more of what he already has: socks and underwear.  Let’s explore the world of flannel and fleece and expand his wardrobe a bit.

So on Monday morning I went to the Eaton Centre.  I consider myself to be a Ninja Shopper and I picked that time slot because I figured it would be the slowest and!  I was prepared from the Tena pad on out.  I wore light layers and running shoes (I only relectantly wear these to the gym), I dumped all extranious material out of my purse, including my camera and you know how I like to take escalator shots.  I ate beforehand so I wouldn’t be tempted at the food court.  I did everything right, or so I thought.  It only took an hour to reach my breaking point where fatigue and despair turn into self-loathing and I know myself: when the self-loathing steeps, it evolves into rage.  Just like a Pokemon, or a Pokemom in my case.  Fight or flight?  I fought a bit longer but went home with a better plan, thanks to the inspiring Swarovski Christmas Tree which is like a beacon of beauty and light amid a whole lot scaffolding because they are still renovating:

Swarovski tree in the middle of the Eaton Centre….umm, you’d think they’d have their renovations finished by now

Anyway Plan B:  I did some on-line shopping.  It’s actually fun because you can do it in your pyjamas.  And!  You can support your local businesses and get cool, unique things on-line.  Check out this one here, called nothin which is Toronto-based, they sell t-shirts but they also have a great website.  December is shopping month, send me your ideas and I can share them on my blog!

Posted by . Categories: Do This Not That, shop til you drop. Tags: , , , , . Leave a comment

11

Dec. ’10

Beaver Love

Lovely Liliana pours us some cocktails made from Gibson’s Finest Canadian Whisky at Roots on Bloor Street

I love to shop, I have the shopping gene:   Thanks, Mama.  It doesn’t matter where either, I can blithely wander the aisles of hardware stores, drug stores, grocery stores, dollar stores.  I am just as happy in Holt Renfrew as I am in Walmart.  I can justify almost any purchase, and by the way, this is why it’s good for you to hire me when you go shopping for a house.  I have all the patience in the world because it’s actually fun for me.  The only time I am disinterested in the retail wonderland is at Christmas.  I hate when it’s early December and someone randomly asks me:  ” Are you done yet?”   Done what?  Don’t make the fine art of shopping sound like a chore.  So in December, I don’t “shop” per se, I acquire crap and wrap it badly and throw it all under the tree that I still don’t have yet, by the way.  Sometimes I don’t even wrap, I just roll it in its own bag and tie it with the ends.  I am a brutal Santa SeeYouNextTuesday.

Last week, however, Roots on Bloor Street had a 25% off all purchases in their store.  Whoopee, is what you are thinking, you probably scratched and saved 30% somewhere and have it all wrapped in paper you bought last year 75% off on December 26.  But!  Upstairs in the General Store, they set up a bar sponsored by Gibsons Finest Canadian Whisky by our friends at the Martini Club, Michelle and Laura.  Now there is a brilliant idea all shops should implement.  I spent 90 minutes in that store going over the merchandise (and back to the bar).  There was lots going on at the General Store and no sticker shock.  Those American Jews know how to make Canada cute and Christmas not seem like a plastic landfill.  Here is what the store looks like, check it out and have fun shopping.  Meet for cocktails when you’re done:

Posted by . Categories: shop til you drop. Tags: , , , . Leave a comment

08

Dec. ’10

Merry Eggs-Mas

It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas, kind of

Is it just me or has Christmas lost its mojo?  It’s not the weather because it’s cold and snowy and no one more than me loves an excuse to stay at home on a Saturday night and wear fabric birth control (otherwise known as fleece) and watch Love, Actually for the billionth time on the W Network.  But it was on last weekend and I fell asleep before the climax where all the characters converge, collapse, and copulate.  And Mariah Carey sings on the soundtrack which would make watching this is a guilty pleasure except there is gratuitous frontal nudity and an orgy scene in it so it’s not a complete chick flick.  British people are good for that sort of thing.  But I fell asleep because Christmas is tired and I’m blaming LED Lights, the Economy, and the Internet.  LED lights:  People are forced to decorate with this barbaric technology these days and it makes everything look the basement toilet facilities at any given Legion Hall.  The Economy:  What’s the point of wanting gifts when you’ve bought everything all year round and are skint (British for broke) so you are forced to hibernate?   And the Internet because it is like the den that you hibernate in and as long as it is there, you don’t have to make an appearance at some lame LED lit party where your pupils dilate, craving actual natural light source, which make you eat more and therefore bloat and fill you with more self-loathing than you would have had if you spent the night in fleece watching Love Actually.

So this year I’m going to do like they did in the olden days.  Forget baking, why bother when the Hudson’s Bay Company has the best shortbread premium cookies in all their stores?  And I can use my Bay card to stimulate the economy and collect Reward Points!   Instead I’m going to light candles and make eggnog from scratch and you are all invited.  I’ve done it once before back in the day, and I’ll do it again.   Homemade eggnog is the bomb and stop with your raw egg salmonella fantasy, I’ve been slurping them down in milkshakes since I was a child playing with the mercury from the broken thermometer my mother put in my mouth when I only pretended to be sick.  There’s an eggnog website which you can click on here that will give you recipes, including the low-fat version.  I’m going to go full fat as that is what Jesus would do, and any excuse I have to visit Rowe Farms in Leslieville, the better.  They have the eggs from the joyous free range chickens and the butcher there is a hot ginger who could probably bring the X back in the Xmas if you know what I mean, which you probably do.  I bet your tree is up already.

Real Eggnog from cracking the eggs yourself

Posted by . Categories: Do This Not That, Eat & Drink. Tags: , , , , , , , . 3 Comments

02

Dec. ’10

My Organic Secret Meat Swanepoel

Spanx fishnets:  Victoria’s Cougar Mom’s Secret

I feel like I have a lot to say because I haven’t posted in a week but most of my adventures have been internal and not Toronto East Hood-specific.  Since last week, when the household was declared “organic meat only’ by Righteous Teenage Daughter, aka. Evangeline, I have been complying.  On Saturday, I found The Friendly Butcher on the Danforth to be easy and convenient, the butcher was pleasant enough but not so sure about what “friendly” means, I will definitely go back this week and check what’s up now that I have my mojo back.  Yes, last weekend I had a mojo upset…didn’t know who I was, I wore sweatpants with those grey socks, let my hair go all porcupiney, and I think I was speaking tongues.  And this is the week that filming for my realty show, The Agents, resumes.  On Monday I got my wardrobe instruction :  “It doesn’t matter what you wear on the bottom because we are only doing head shot.  And because you are shooting with a troll shorter agent, we need you to wear flats so you don’t tower over her.”  And there was more:  “Wear something neutral and not a sweater because the troll other agent is wearing one, wear a button down.”  Seriously, does Joan on Madmen wear a button down?  I have to wear flat shoes and a collared shirt?  Am I the dude in this bitch fight?  I got my balls back and channelled Joan Crawford and countered with “I DO NOT WEAR BUTTON DOWNS!”

So we are settling on a v-neck cardigan, the other whore agent is wearng a turtleneck so for sure I will fare better.  As for “it doesn’t matter what you wear on the bottom”…well, if I have learned one thing in my ladyhood, yes it does.  Apparently, foundation garments are the key to success.  Do you know that with the plethora of internet porn that is available today, the men are still using your Victoria Secret catologs to supplement it?  And there are no nipples in Victoriaville, so what up with the man you married 20 years ago who can’t remember your birthday but knows how to spell ” Candice Swanepoel?”  It is all about the power of imagination.  This is why I will be wearing fishnet Spanx on my shoot tomorrow.  Nobody will see it, but I will know and you will know because I just told you.

Posted by . Categories: go girl. Tags: , , , , . 1 Comment

25

Nov. ’10

Ezriders: Urban Transportation for Badasses

Last week someone scraped the side of my car in the parking lot of my gym.  He left a note on my windshield with a detailed explanation of the mishap, an apology, a (correct) phone number and an offer to use his BMW dealership to repair my utilitarian Japanese autobox.  At first I thought I was in love but the more I thought about it, the more I realized his benevolence wasn’t sincere, he was probably being watched and aware of the fact there are security cameras on the premises.  And he drives a BMW, stands for Bad Man Walking.  They are fussy German cars and the typical dude who drives one wears those contrived distressed jeans and doesn’t know how to fix things so when he has an emotional problem, his car will feel it and will manifest itself into electronic breakdown so he goes to the dealership, gives his keys to BMW bellhop and orders a cappuccino from receptionist who has big hooters.  And then he will pace in front of her, fiddling with his Blackberry, but never looking at her.  He thinks she thinks he has all the prowess in the world because he can sip foam and text at the same time.  He doesn’t have to acknowledge her, the whiskers in his jeans point the way.  Anyway I left my car at Douchebags R Us on Monday and declined a rental.  Just because I am nice.

So I have been walking everywhere, especially on Queen Street East from my new office at Core Realty.  There are a lot of new stores and restaurants that I haven’t noticed before which I will shop, eat, and tell you about in the future.  But a couple of interesting things I saw today, there’s a lot of mural art in the east end. some of it is the Ralph Thornton Mural Project:

But also some really cool small business have putting up their advertising up in graffiti art form.  This one is Pardon Le Dopeness.  They have a great website, click here to see it, and they sell very cool t shirts :

I love that kind of stuff.  It reminds me of my badass youth before I drove a car everywhere!!!  And the other interesting thing from my walk home today was checking out this store:

ezriders, e-bikes, e-scooters and accessories, 1296 Queen Street East

This place is the answer to urban transportation.  The beauty of these bikes is that you don’t need the insurance (badass) and you don’t need to get a special license, which if you buy a little (douchebaguette) Vespa, is mandatory.  And the prices are not shocking at all.   The one I have my eye on is under $700.  Check them out here, they are having a sale (kickass Christmas present) but you can also rent them by the hour which would make for a great first date for some of you weirdos who don’t have cars yet.  Here’s what they look like:

Take a load off, ezriders, me likey the middle one

Posted by . Categories: an inconvenient truth, Get out of your comfort zone, Neighbourhood Watch, This Charming Man. Tags: , , . 2 Comments

23

Nov. ’10

Righteous Teenage Daughter Rules

Nikki Fierce:  Left to Right:  Evangeline, Emily, and Claire

The other day, Righteous Teenage Daughter, aka. RTD, aka.Evangeline made the announcement that she is only eating “organic meat” and if Freddy and I were going to eat something else, not to worry, she will fend for herself.  Meaning she is not going to go out with a slingshot and hunt down a squirrel, she will open up a box of mac and cheese and dine el solo while we eat from the conveyor belt animals.  To prove her point, she made us watch an excerpt from the documentary film, Baraka, the chicken sequence which is not grotesque in gore but a little disturbing in concept, and I urge to click on the except and watch it.  It does inspire you to want to eat a happy farm chicken but it also makes you question conformity in general.  Which is what I think is so great about RTD (I know every parent says this about their child) but she doesn’t listen to Justin Bieber and she introduces me to really new cool bands so I don’t end up stuck listening to my old morose 80s British bands mixed with 90s Lollapalooza relics.  So RTD amd a couple of her like minded friends formed a band and called themselves Nikki Fierce and here is their first original song called “Muted.”  Very trippy sounding!

So anyway, I can’t let my future rockstar meal ticket eat boxed mac and cheese so I have earnestly joined her crusade for “organic” meat.  Which means happy meat.  How do you know they are happy?  Because they cost twice as much per kilo.  I trekked over to the west side and bought a chicken at The Healthy Butcher.  I have to say, I loved the place, and as much as I enjoy a shopping cart stroll through a Loblaws, I am probably more a small shop shopper.  I also have a bit of a butcher fetish, as a child I used to run over to the section of Dominion where they had what I considered to be an art installation of a cow and its sectioned off parts in different colours:

And the Dominion butcher wore a white apron and carried a big knife.  Even as a four-year old, I thought he was God, he knew what he was doing.  They still wear the same thing and carry the same tool and yet there are deluded urban men running around town in Prada zoot suits thinking they are the meat packers but you know they’ve got nothing on the Butcher Man.  Anyway, I ended up buying a $17 “organic” chicken.  And this chicken had a different look from the regular grocery store, air child bird.  He wasn’t tightly sealed in plastic on a styrofoam tray, he came all splayed out, as though he had just finished playing a game of soccer and was laying on the couch watching tv.  He was a muscular beast, with thighs like Ronaldo, he probably pranced in the meadow like some cocky show pony. Obviously he got all the chicks.  And he tasted happy, for sure.  Here is my recipe for Chicken Ronaldo:

Take the chicken:  Stick a pierced lemon in the cavity. cut 4 Yukon gold potatoes and place in Creuset style pan with drizzle of olive oil and place the bird on top (potatoes will go mushy and crispy on the edges), sprinkle up some kosher salt, pepper, and garlic slices, drizzle with more olive oil, BAKE at 350 in covered pan for 90 minutes, then take cover off for another 30 minutes so bird get golden, stir potatoes around so they get some action.  And when done, let chicken recuperate for  10 minutes or so on a separate plate and then stir potatoes around the roasting pan…they should be kind of mushy at this point, as Ronaldo has been crushing them and soaking them with his juices in the oven.  Then serve it up.  I’ve had guests eat his then actually want to help me to the dishes to they can feed off the pan remnants and pick the the bones.  Free range, that’s what I say.

Posted by . Categories: Do This Not That, Eat & Drink, go girl. Tags: , , , . 3 Comments

19

Nov. ’10

A Change Has Come

My new brokerage:  Core Realty at 747 Queen Street East

Don’t skip this post thinking that’s it’s going to be all about me and my new exciting brokerage that I just joined today.  I promise the next paragraph gets more juicy because it is sweeps month and I’m still trying to get my readership up.  But first this little news nugget:  for a few months, one of the brokers from the show, The Agents, has been trying to get me to give up that hideous ochre blazer with C21 logo on left pocket and join her hip, new boutique brokerage in the heart of Riverside or Leslieville or whatever you want to call it.  But I had just changed earlier that year to join a partnership which turned out to be a disaster and I was left standing alone under a yellow umbrella that matched the blazer.  And the office was in deep, dark, Scarborough, even farther than that area where they sell discount mattresses and electronics.  So finally on Monday afternoon, when I was I at such a dark, low point, I was craving a now extinct KFC Double Down but settling for a Wendy’s Bacon Mushroom Melt, I ran into the two Core Realty brokers in the parking lot.  “Come join us!”  they yelled for the last time.  I figured it was a sign for change, and it’s kind of nice to be wanted.  Anyway, I love everything about the Core Brokerage, it seems like all the best words start with “C”, don’t they?  The office is really styling, the people are so nice, the logo is cool and everyone has the same business cards, there are no embarrassing headshots.  The office participates in a lot of community events AND best of all:  they are going to have me write a blog for their website, which I will keep you updated on.  “Centered Around You” is their motto.

And speaking of centered, did you happen to see Dr. Oz last week?  You know how he loves to keep you hanging during commercial breaks by warning you what you see next will shock your mind and then it’s something lame like sneezing can lead to nosebleeds?  Well this episode was all about the G-spot which totally had my attention.  He showed this device called a We-Vibe, that looked like a rubber clamp and that claimed to stimulate the spot amongst other things.  You can buy these kinds of things on-line, but I like to look, touch, and smell which why I don’t go on dating websites, I have learned the hard way that an aura of crazy is something you can only detect in person.  So off I went on a field trip to Come As You Are:

Come As You Are, 701 Queen Street West

And I’m glad I did because as it turns out, the We-Vibe is a couples toy and I’m looking for solo action.  The sales girl was really helpful because there is a plethora of things that rattle and hum in that place.  I ended up getting a Rock-Chick, which is a thicker version of that We-Vibe.  Their website is under construction so I’m not really sure how to use it, the diagragm on the package makes me sick and I can’t tell what’s up or down.  It’s soft and flexible and kind of fun to play with so I’ll just have to poke and prod until I hit the G-note and my life changes.  But until then, I will embrace my new career change and centre around you!  P.S. I never actually wore a yellow blazer…please.

Posted by . Categories: go girl, LOCAs gone wild. Tags: , , , , . 1 Comment

18

Nov. ’10

Gibson’s Canadian Whisky: Only in Canada…Pity

Gibson’s Finest Whiskey: something old, something rare. something sterling, and something you might regret later:  pace yourself

I’m a little foggy today.  Last night the girls at the Martini Club in the Distillery District hosted a party featuring Gibson’s Finest Canadian Whisky.  There is nothing more fun than a Martini Club party, last one had me drinking Hendricks gin, and I hate gin, or I thought I hated gin.  What I really hated was the thought of gin, it turns out the actual drinking of the gin is a lot of fun.  And also because Laura and Michelle are incredibly innovative mixologists.  In fact they contribute recipes for the LCBO magazine.  Their current mission is to get women drinking whiskey.  Twist my rubber arm, ladies, I love a brown drink.  Bourbon is very cool and I have created a few interesting cocktails of my own featuring Wild Turkey:  try drinking it with chocolate soy milk, yum!  Last night’s drinks included the classic Manhattan along with some new ideas:  Mint Divine which was lemonade and mint, and True North,  which was a sour mix with blueberry juice and ginger beer.  They also served it with heated apple cider.  Most fun (and educational) was trying the whiskies straight up.  Gibson’s has a range:  Sterling which is great for mixed drinks, the 12-year-old which is barrel aged and ultra smooth, and Finest Rare which is the one you give to your favourite blogger for a Christmas present.  If tequila makes people crazy and vodka makes people promiscuous, then sipping whisky makes you smarter.  Did you know that “whisky” is Scottish English and “whiskey” is Irish English?  I have been spelling it both ways.  Anyway, thanks to Steve Wright, Gibson’s Finest Canadian Whisky Ambassador, and Michelle and Laura for a really fun party and a new appreciation for Canadian Whisky!

Dennis, serving us straight whisky.  Mixing in a bit of water is not considered wimpy, in fact it helps the taste buds by minimizing the burn.

Drinking the Mint Divine:  Gibson’s Finest Sterling shaken with fresh mint, lemonade, and wild cranberries

Posted by . Categories: Eat & Drink, Uncategorized. Tags: , . 2 Comments

13

Nov. ’10

The Good Fight

Age, it can happen to the best of us

Last winter, I was chosen to be on a reality show about real estate agents.  We did a lot of shooting from January until March and then I heard nothing.  It was a lot of fun and would have been good advertising for my real estate services, I need all the fame or infamy I can get in that area since the town is overrun by giant powerhouses on buses and billboards (and special message to a certain spray-tanned real estate agent with a snaggle tooth: use Photoshoppe, the sisters do it and so should you).  The other day, I got a call from the producer of The Agents and they have formatted all the footage into half hour show for the W Network.  She wanted me to come down and see the pilot and then for my particular segment, we will do some reshoots to fit the formula.  I have to say, it’s a pretty good show, it’s based on rivalry and catty behind the scenes comments.  I loved it.  But what I didn’t love was the footage of myself.  Never mind that it was shot two weeks after Christmas and the only thing I had to drink besides Champagne was melted Brie. I can take bloated, the ability to bloat is on my resume.  I looked really old!  You know how when you look in a mirror, you have your repetoire of poses that you take so you don’t have to see the stuff you hate?  Well you can’t do when you see yourself on tv.  It is what it is:  U*G*L*Y.  “I thought you looked cute,” the producer said.  Cute!  I’m in my cougar years, I want to look fierce.  I still have some mojo and I’m not trying to compete with twenty year olds.  I have learned for every flaw, big or small, that a woman might have, there is a freak with a fetish ready to worship her.  But the problem is that while he is admiring her exquisite beauty, he is creating a mountain Kleenex wads underneath his webcam somewhere in Germany.  So if you want to get a real life date with a North American male, LOCA’s, you better get with the program.  So here I go:

me with a rubber collagen mask on at Salon Spa College

My friend Connie is learning to be an esthetician at Salon Spa College, which is at Don Mills and York Mills.  She`s had me in for a couple of procedures, this one was the basic facial with galvanic energy.  She sealed in the serum with a wand full of positive current while I held another wand of negative current.  It must work because electricity is involved.  The pore holes shrink so skin looks firmer.  Sometimes my pores like to gape open too much, that`s probably when everything looks all saggy.  Must remember this for when they do reshoots in a couple of weeks.  Anyway, at the Salon Spa College, they do all kinds of treatments from laser hair removal, facials, manicures, pedicures and with state of the art equipment, and they take appointments for the public,  The prices are really good, check out their website here.  I`m excited for something that I saw on Dr. Oz the other day about a new treatment called Ultherapy, where they use ultrasound to repair the collagen deep in the skin so that the turkey waddle is diminished.  It`s probably something that a doctor operated which means more money but it will be worth it.  It might be a drag getting old, but you`ll never get bored fighting it.

Posted by . Categories: go girl, LOCAs gone wild. Tags: , , , . 1 Comment

11

Nov. ’10

Scion Comfort

My Scion XB, now coming to Canada but in a less boxy form

Yesterday I had a flat tire.   I live in constant fear of a vehicular mishap of any kind but this one was perfectly civilized.  I discovered the flat tire in the Loblaws parking which is right across the street from Mike’s Automotive, at 810 Eastern Avenue on the corner of Leslie.  I haven’t had a steady mechanic in years.  I find they are like men.   They come and they go, which makes sense because they are mostly men.  Pete the Greek at the old Sunoco on Kingston Road and Woodbine was my last one, which was when I drove the Mercury Villager, aka. The Great White Whale.  That was my mom-mobile when the kids were smaller.  That van took a lot of abuse.  It was kind of like the automotive version of Keith Richards.  It was scraped and mangled and in dire need of rehab.  I remember the last time I took it to Pete:

Me:  Something’s wrong with the van.  It keeps making funny sounds, like it has Tourette’s.

Pete:  Your shocks are completely shot, have you been off-roading?

Me:  No, just driving the kids to school.

It turns out you are supposed to sloooooow down when you are driving over speed bumps.  I had been speeding up and flying over them.  And any woman who’s ever practised her Kegel excerises while driving knows that:  A full bladder + a series of speed bumps driven over the speed limit = A Sure Thing.  That Great White Whale was one very expensive dildo.

I’m much better with my current car.  I treat her like a fine lady, take her to the car wash, park her strategically in parking lots so her rear can be seen.  That is because this blog is advertised on the back window.  She is a rare bird in these parts because up until now, Scions, which are made by Toyota,  were not sold in Canada but now Scion Nation has arrived and there will be more which is okay.  The new generation of XB’s are not as boxy, they are more gangster looking, and they come in very cool colours.  Anyway, lucky for me my flat tire happened when it did because I got to meet Mike the Mechanic.  He helped me right away, put my spare on.   First thing this morning, he put my winter tires on and didn’t gauge me or make me wait like they do Canadian Tire so I’m forced to shop in the store and buy T-Fal products that will clutter my kitchen.  It’s nice have a mechanic, one who cares.  I “heart” Mike and I’m seeing him again this week because my rear brakes need help.  Oh, and an oil change.  Sigh.

Posted by . Categories: This Charming Man. Tags: , , . 1 Comment