It's My Birthday, and I'll Die if I Want To!

Today is my birthday. I am turning 27.

Looking back over all my previous birthdays and formative experiences, one that stands out is my 12th birthday party...

FLASHBACK!

We lived in a semi-detached house on Davisville Ave, sharing a load bearing wall with our neighbours, an old Estonian couple...The Vahers.

Mr. Vaher and I shared a birthday, 80 years apart, and every year we wished each other a happy birthday. They were nice people, although they would sit in their car in the backyard and look like zombies...which always made playing in the backyard a good training ground for social awkwardness...

So, where was I? Ah yes, my 12th birthday party. In keeping with the style of the times, we went to see a film at Canada Square. Unfortunately, the only film playing was Kull the Conqueror.

Kevin Sorbo and Tia Carrere, together at last...? Classy.


After being steeped in the cinematic juices of Kevin Sorbo, we returned home to find an ambulance parked near our house. My mother realized that something must have happened next door and tried to quickly shuffle 10 or so pre-teens full of soda and popcorn into the house...

But as I was walking up the porch steps the EMTs brought Mr. Vaher out on a stretcher. Obviously dead.

All I could think was: "...but...it's our birthday..."

"He's just sleeping!" My mother said, desperately trying to save my innocence.

"Please mum, I'm 12. I know he's not sleeping."

The other kids didn't seem to notice. We went inside and watched Tank Girl, which is to say I put on the movie and then hid behind the sofa feeling all sad n' stuff.

So every year on the 13th of September, I think back to that party. Over the years I've actually come to appreciate the cyclical nature of Mr. Veher's life and death. What a neat and tidy way to enter and exit the world...dying on the day of your birth.

As a child I became so obsessed with this idea that I planned to make sure that my last word was the same as my very first word: BYE!

Also it's kind of meta and would be hilarious...!

This morning, after a breakfast of tasty baked goods, I walked to work, mulling over Mr. Vaher's passing and the (hopefully) cyclical nature of my own demise. Then a car nearly hit me. Thanks Toronto drivers who try to drive the wrong way up one-way streets!

I continued on, now day dreaming about lying broken and bloody in the street at Queen and Markham (a fashionable place to expire, no doubt). The driver rushes out and runs to my side:

"I'm so sorry! I'm sorry!" he cries, cradling my head.

"This is so fucking cyclical." I mutter.

And with my last breath I manage: "...Bye."




...That's a pretty awesome death I think...and then the rest of my brain kicks in:




The driver is talking to an EMT... "I don't know, she just walked out in front of me. She looked like she was day dreaming about something stupid."

"That's how these hipsters are. See? You can tell from her skinny jeans."

A police officer approaches. "Did she say anything to you?"

My ghost hovers nearby, gleefully rubbing it's ghostly hands together in anticipation.

"Kind of..." says the driver. "Something about fucking popsicles I think."




Goddamn it.

Millions of Peaches. Peaches (might hate) Me.

I went to the "Women in Television & Film" party yesterday. Some of the highlights included:

• Maple doughnuts filled with chicken confit (omfg, amazing)
• Open Bar
• Cupcakes

It was also filled with moments that make you kind of pleased, somewhat inexplicably...like:

• "Oh, there's Luba Goy...she looks exactly the same as in 1991..."
• Hey, Strombo remembers me nearly hitting him with my bicycle!
• Being taught that tearing the bottom off a cupcake and placing it on top makes an amazing icing sandwich.

But then, out of the corner of my eye, I see Peaches...

NO.

YES.

In my super classy and subtle ways of networking I sidle up and point to her banana purse.

"I like your banana bag."

I'm in.

We discuss the upsides of banana shaped and coloured bags. Then in a moment of awkward silence I can't help but mention.

My parents are big fans...

She laughs. "Seriously?"

I nod solemnly. "Seriously."

There is an awkward silence. 

"I'm also a big fan of your music."

"Cool."

It's at this point, when I'm wondering if I should just throw up on myself to provide a more dignified exit... I'm pretty sure Peaches hates me.

Feels bad man.

But instead of vomiting, I ask:

"...So...how is everything going for you at TIFF? You have a movie playing soon, right?"

"Yea, it's playing on Thursday, you should come to the after party."

Winning?

Quite possibly.

Having your parents ask to join...?

The Ups and Downs of TIFF

It's September in Toronto. That means:

• Labour day weekend
• My birthday
• The return of sweaters and boots (yay)

and:

• The Toronto International Film Festival

Mostly, it means that for two weeks, I will sleep too little, drink too much, and see some neat films.

...but...

It also means that with those ups, there are corresponding downs. The film fest's atmosphere of glitz and glam (imagined or actual) elevates the egos of some to dangerous heights, putting all those around at risk of being crushed...

On Friday, I donned my red pants ('cause, awesome sauce), a neat embroidered top, and my badass leather boots and went to a party that I had SENT OUT A MASS INVITE. <---key point right here.

Awesome boots are punk-chic and awesome.

I am one of the first to arrive to the "style party" being held in a "glamorous" alley way. I walk in, get my name checked off the list, am handed a gift bag, and make my way into the alley for food and drinks...

Immediately a demon-woman in a red dress appears in front of me (there may have been a puff of smoke)...She looks me up and down, and out of her breathtaking, botox'd maw comes:

"Oh...are you here for the party?"

"Er...yes...?" I manage.

"Oh..." and she saunters off.

On three separate occasions, her elbow somehow has conjugal visits with my shoulder blades. I am too insulted and annoyed to be angry. Inwardly chanting the mantra of "everybody poops, everybody poops", I reflect on the fact that she'll probably die before me, and this brings me a small amount of inner peace (fig 1).

fig 1: small amount of inner peace.

The party continues, in its awful, pretentious way. People float past on hot wind, fellating each other's egos to a climax of douchbaggery not seen outside of The Jersey Shore. I eat my free sandwiches and drink my free champagne, and blog in my head.

WHO IS THE REAL WINNER HERE?!! (no, seriously.)

But beyond the overinflated egos, the frenemies, the subtle jabs, the not-so-subtle-jabs, and the condescending "oh hey kiddo!"'s of the film fest, there are some fantastic films, and some generally awesome people.

I got to see this fabulous film:

And I got to meet this fantastic chap. Who has every right to be full of himself and rude, but wasn't. He was simply fun and silly, and generally wonderful:

It helps to have a moment like this at every TIFF... A moment where you've just watched something new and interesting and different, you've shared the experience with the filmmakers, and then someone you've admired for ages turns out to be a fantastic person.

...and that makes up for all those done-up botox queens.

I am a Bear...rawr!

No. I have not suddenly become a large hairy man (get your mind out of Church & Wellesley!), nor have I become large and menacing...

But...as of Sunday afternoon...I have done this:

It all started with me deciding to go fly fishing, in the hopes of catching dinner. I didn't have much luck in the first river.

I am the very tiny speck in the distance!

So after drowning my sorrows in the finest greasy breakfast that small town Ontario can provide, we headed to a different river to try my luck anew.


The first good sign was around 12 hawks circling the river...the water level was way down, and there were tons of fish visible. Considering the time of year, I was expecting to maybe get a bass, or a small trout...but after 20min or so, a GIANT fish passed within eyesight.

A Steelhead!

Huge migratory trout, that are notoriously hard to catch...ah ha! A challenge!


I followed the fish through the river for over 2 hours, changed lures 3 times, all without luck. But in the back of my mind, were some tips on catching fish with your hands, all garnered through voracious watching of YouTube bushcraft videos.



Slowly, oh so slowly I crept up behind the fish... I crouched with my hands in the water until they had matched the water temp...slowly, oh so slowly moved my hands into position...


BAM!

Grabbed it around the base of the tail!


...and it wriggled loose.


Another 15min go by, I slip my hands into position...

BAM!

...it wriggles loose.


Another 15min go by... I slip my hands into position.


My cell phone begins ringing (yes, that is my ring tone)...


BAM!

I grab it around the tail, and scoop it out of the water...!



I WIN.

It appears my cat-like reflexes are unparalleled...or maybe my cat-like reflexes are due to the fact that I'd drunk 6 cups of coffee...

My reward for roughly 3 hours in knee deep in the river? A 20 inch trout, a sunburn, and raging guilt over killing a fish.

The fact that it was delicious mitigates things a little...and the fact that any one of those 12 hawks circling overhead would likely have snapped up the fish later that day...


Oh, and the insane rush of endorphins that your brain gives you when you fulfil your basic survival needs.


I am a bear...albeit a slightly guilt-stricken bear... but a bear nonetheless.


Rawr.

You're Doing It Wrong...

This weekend, I alternated between the mother of all hangovers, sweet potato fries with wasabi mayo, and the CNE.

So much carny goodness!

During this romp through the epitome of post-responsibility-gastronomy, I ate and saw a great many things. We began our journey at Bacon Nation, home of the "bacon-wrapped-deep-fried-sausage-on-a-stick"...it was...delicious.

This was coupled with a pulled pork grilled cheese (shit be off tha hook, yo).

Witness: the cause of my untimely death via blocked arteries.

It was at this point that several patrons of the CNE of *ahem* considerable girth *ahem* sat down at our table...

They brought with them a cornucopia of greasy fare...including the bacon/sausage/fried/stick monstrosity that Mitch and I shared between us, a krispy kreme doughnut burger with a fried egg, an 8" pie tin full of mac & cheese & pulled pork, and a multitude of chips, french fries, and interesting yet unplaceable odours...


Now, the krispy kreme doughnut burger should be explained...it is an abomination of sweet and salty goodness. Comprised of 2 doughnuts as the buns, a burger, cheese, bacon, and a fried egg...the shame is optional.

I have watched people eat these in the past. Usually laughing at the sickening absurdity, egged on (haw haw) by their friends...It wasn't until this weekend I saw someone eating one for their own satisfaction.

Ew.

This is 1500 calories without the egg and bacon...2000 calories as pictured...

It was at this point, as the table creaked in protest, that I couldn't help but overhear the robust gentleman with the krispy kreme doughnut burger berating his rotund companions...


Intrigued, I leaned a little closer...

He remarked around a mouthful of doughnut-burger-with-a-fried-egg:

"I never drink tap water. It's not healthy."

Now, I'm not one to judge someone entirely on their outward appearance...HOWEVER, I am unlikely to take health & diet tips from someone over 300lbs as they inhale a KRISPY KREME BURGER TOPPED WITH A FRIED EGG AND JUICY STRIPS OF BACON.


Ahem. The bacon is purely an extravagance.

I would also like to address the fact that tap water is perfectly fine to drink, and it's this kind of baseless pseudo-science-based-on-Fox-News-esque-impressions-and-perceptions that are destroying the world.

Obama is worse than Hitler! Also, frogs give you warts!

You, Sir, are doing it wrong.




What is "it" you may ask? Well, I'll just toss out some nouns and verbs and you can pick any of them:


Health!
Critical thought!
Life!


I was annoyed, to say the least, that as soon as he said this, his friends all jumped in with:


"Oh yea, I use a filter!" "I drink bottled water!" and "Gross!"


Good little consumers...keep on consuming. So meta.

In other news, the CNE was awesome, and included:

• The sand castle of my nightmares!

• Rides where you may-or-may-not die!

• Mitch's displeasure regarding rides of great height!

• Me squishing people in my mind!

• Spaghetti & spicy meatball sandwiches!

• Extremely questionable food choices (but no freely distributed & unfounded health claims!)

• SUPER DOMO!!!!!!!! (the physical embodiment of my skill at whack-a-mole)

...Sigh...


I could close with some pithy remark regarding rampant consumerism and the dumbing down of the population through truthiness...but did you hear? Snooky just had a baby!

Yee-Haw! Internetz Round Up!

Things that tickled my fancy this week:



1) Butter sculpture of Rob Ford reading a Margaret Atwood novel while leaning on a steering wheel. (you can see it at the CNE!)

2) Gangnam Style!!!!! (Korean pop music...and you love it)

3) Toronto's Batman goes abroad:

4) Do you like Game of Thrones? Do you like CATS?!!!

5) Do you like Batman, AND singing pets?!!!

6) First, CONTEXT

Spanish lady destroyed fresco with "restoration"

And now,

COMEDY: