It’s February now so let’s everybody get out of this frozen funk, shall we?

That Polar Vortex was crazy town. I have completely forgotten how to wardrobe. I am no longer wearing grey sweatpants, they are too formal…I am wearing stained (!) pyjama bottoms and an Old Navy tshirt. I may or may not be wearing a bra, I can’t tell, I am numb from a layer of warming blubber. That’s the beauty of Nature, it’s so intuitive, it bestows you with your own flesh version of a bulky Canada Goose jacket. I have fattened up quite a bit during that cold snap but I am grateful for the extra layer because I am a survivor, bitches. The lady at the gym who is proudly maintaining her thigh gap but wearing a Snuggli in spin class might die from hypothermia in the parking lot but I will reign as Queen of the Polar Vortex, so what if my bra broke and just flew across the room? Roar.

Highlights of January included: My annual physical concluded that that blobby thing in my belly button is not an alien fetus but a petite hernia, not to worry, it’s gross but harmless. But a real baby was born IN MY DOWNSTAIRS APARTMENT. Polar baby was two weeks overdue because warm womb is like Turks and Caicos and why would you want to come out? Interesting though, is a home birth. What goes in the green bin? I am afraid to know but happy to report that the baby is healthy and very, very cute.

That deep freeze was pretty crippling but now that it’s warmed up to icy slush outside, it’s time to shake things up. I’ve got some ideas I will share with you. Of course carry on with your usual winter activities like power-watching tv with back-to-back-to-back-to-back-to-back-to-infinity episodes of your favourite shows even if it does have a deleterious affect on your life. I’m going to be watching “American Horror Story Coven” in one sitting and I’m scared already. I actually think I am witch, my super power is manthrax. Lock up your chickens, I might be getting some ideas. Here are some activities I am also going to partake in this month and maybe you will join me, gather round, kittens:

1. Did you know, according to Jezebel, that it is The Year of the Clean Person? For many years, my friends and I would make a theme for the year that would be our guide, like “The Year of the Smart Cocktail” where we would go out of our way to add extra ingredients to regular booze. A smart cocktail has to have three ingredients or more which is what Cointreau and Triple Sec are for in case you were wondering. You know how always at some point you end up with an empty bottle of vodka or bourbon, and have a few slugs left in a supplementary liqueur stash? Well fuck that. For me a third ingredient in a rum and Coke is my own backwash, it’s too much for me to deal with a third of a rogue bottle of Blue Curaçao hanging around past Labour Day. Another year was “The Year of Deception” where we lied all the time and played deleterious pranks on each other, one involving a hefty fine for “improper leaf disposal” typed on City of Toronto stationary stolen from the rec centre and my ex-husband putting on a thick Romanian accent pretending he was a city worker. Oh how we laughed. Then there was “The Year of I’ve Got Nothin’ To Prove,” that pretty much ended all the years and became my life long mantra, it’s so Buddhist, pretty much nothing can top that.

But Jezebel, and yes I read that AND Gawker, AND xojane (It Happened to Me! is my porn) which all good, harmless toilet reading…it is pouring over the comment sections of these on-line rags that has a deleterious affect on my life, oftentimes sending me into a venomous rage. Why do people hate Lena Dunham so much? I just love her so much that it hurts my soul when she gets trashed. Back to the topic though, Jezebel had a post about cleaning your bookshelves by Jolie Kerr who wrote My Boyfriend Barfed in My Handbag…and Other Things You Can’t Ask Martha which I am definitely going to order. I would love to be a clean freak, but I am not which is why I can’t have nice things. I am thinking that maybe if I start cleaning, even just a bookshelf, some karmic energy will flow. Maybe I’m being blocked by an army of dust bunnies? We shall find out. I am going to start with my fridge which needs more room in it for vodka.

2. Pistol squat progressions. What?

Why? Because this:

Jen Selter, that’s why.

I know you’re probably thinking “give up already” but I will not. If Helen Mirren can twerk, there is hope for me yet.

3. Henna you hair! I did this yesterday, it’s so boring I almost died though. I know it’s such a seventies thing and hairdressers will hate you for it: “You completely coated your hair with orange shit and now we can process our chemical fuckery over top of it!” They will for sure yell at you but trust, they are wrong. First of all, henna is not just orangey red, it comes in all colours of the fecal rainbow, including black (get that checked). And it doesn’t “coat’ your your per se, but it is a permanent die. It smells weirdly funky at first but I’ve gotten used to it, I feel very earthy-like, like a white witch should. It is also really shiny and feels thicker and the silver chards at the temples are sparkly red, phew, because I was worried they would go green. The boring part was that you have to glop it on your head for about four hours and you are stuck at home texting your friends who are out brunching and won’t come over to hang with you. And you wouldn’t really want them to see you wearing just a towel  with green diarrhea dropping on your back from on top of your head unless they really loved you for who you are, which they probably don’t.

4. Speaking of love it’s Valentine’s Day month. I know some of you hate this “Hallmark holiday” but I assure you, it is not. It originated 1500 years ago as a day to honour Christian martyrs, dudes who were tortured to death with fire. That makes it much more meaningful. I say don’t worry about your shitty love life which is either non-exisitent or stuck in a one-way train ride to Delusionville, I say go out and buy yourself something and be happy, all martyrs unite! I’m going to get a pedicure and maybe a manicure if I can sit still long enough. And perhaps a little Botox, dem elevens are starting to deepen. Martyrs gotta look calm and cool, no furrowed brows on the burning stake.

5. The Winter Olympics! I know, it’s a potential hot mess, politically stupid, and scary but! the athletes can’t help that and the Winter Olympics is always the most fun to watch, so hopefully it goes smoothly. I saw these CANADA Olympic hats at Roots over Christmas:

And yes, I laughed and took a picture and Facebooked and Instagrammed it because I am twelve. The other day I saw a man in a parking lot wearing one and I smiled at him and he smiled back. I really need to get one, how else am I going to get a date?