Bag Lady

I love handbags, who doesn’t? Sadly, they are often expensive purchases to make, so I end up having to save up for months in order to even dream of attaining a designer one (except when I score at the vintage shops!) But guess what I’ve figured out? You don’t have to have a big, fat, designer label stitched on the inside pocket to feel like you look good. Here are some really cute bags I found on Etsy.com (one of my most frequented online stores.) The great thing about Etsy is that all of the items are second-hand or handmade by the individual sellers so you are not only supporting independent designers, you are also contributing to the health of our environment by buying recycled products…You can’t go wrong there.

Talladega Nights.

The Real story of Ricky Bobby. This is real, this is NASCAR.

Tricky

See, I go and say nice things about someone, then I dig up someone who’s totally next level and remember what ‘good’ sounds like. Tricky is consistently amazing, his videos (all that I’ve seen, anyway) are visually stimulating and the sounds he creates are melodic and rich and intelligent. I Just got his new album, Mixed Race and I’m looking forward to it.

I’d Rather Get Some.

This mix is good. Pardon the subject matter.

I Love Having Sax (But I’d Rather Get Some) – I’d Rather x Mad Sax by Real Juicy

I Get Lonely Too.

Guess we all do now and then…

I don’t like to talk about this dude too often because everyone else does so much of it already, but when it’s good, it’s good. I have cautious, but optimistic hopes for his new R&B Mixtape It’s Never Enough.

Hold On.

Nuit Blanche 2010

I’m going to miss Mayor David Miller…Of the many great things he’s done for our city, Nuit Blanche has been one of the most innovative and successful undertakings of his tenure as the successor to Mel Lastman (although, relieving Mel was good enough for me!)

Once a year, our city and its’ scores of art galleries and museums, open their doors from sunset to sunrise, holding free art exhibits and installations for all to see. Friends come together in packs to troll the streets of downtown Toronto throughout the night. They come in droves seeking the thrill of the find or just the elusive, surprise party-cum-installations held in back alley garages, off the beaten path, and usually found only by word of mouth. Most of the time you end up happening upon abstract and obscure, arthouse ‘funk’, that perhaps may be a bit over even the finest OCAD student’s head.

Nevertheless, the fact that our city willingly provides this platform for the expression of art (in it’s MANY shapes and forms) and can trust it’s citizens enough to have some good, clean fun overnight in their precious tourist havens- is enough to applaud whomever it was that prepped counsel’s anus to let this event happen. It is a beautiful thing. So, thanks for the lube and your gentle touch Mr. Miller.

To plan your Nuit Blanche festivities you can find a map of exhibits here: Scotiabank Nuit Blanche or if you’re awesome and you have an iPhone, you can download the “Night Navigator” (fancy, huh?).

Waxings.

I will never be a bridesmaid. Random thought I know, but that’s what blogs are for aren’t they? reading random thoughts and opinions and emo-musings veiled in mediocre writing and tied to subversive art to try and get your attention?…well, here’s my “blog post” for the day then:

I never really had many friends growing up and I have never been sure what part of me is to blame. I know I can be painfully shy (which comes across as ‘disinterested bitch’), but I have been this way since I was a wee lass, hiding behind my mother’s legs at parties. I would hold on to her for dear life, peeking out every so often to see who the giant that smelled funny was, trying to ask me questions that my small voice could not answer.

In class at school, I would DREAD group work. It wasn’t until my classmates (mis)took me for a smartypants that they would ask to be my partner, and even then it was only so they wouldn’t have to work as hard. As for gym class?!….don’t even get me started…I was basically Skee-lo (which on second thought, is a pretty good nickname for me.)

In high school, when my only friend was away for the day, I would eat my lunch alone in a bathroom stall or walk around the neighbourhood for the entire lunch hour, having conversations with myself and killing time until classes resumed. Some days I would dread being alone so much that I wouldn’t even go at all.

Now, I am not in high school (thank god) but I am still faced with social situations that I can’t seem to crack the surface of. I have mastered the art of topical conversation and friendly greetings but, what comes after that? Sure, you could say that I know a lot of people in my city, probably as a result of trying to find friendship in extra-curricular activities or new schools altogether-(I went to 6 of them),
But do they know me? We can hug and show grand gestures in the first 3 minutes of conversation, but beyond the idle chatter, is there any substance? Most of the time I find that people don’t even remember my name…Just my face.

On the bright side, over the last couple of years, I have reconnected with a few friends that I had gained in truth, but lost in the pursuit of false. The ones that loved me whether I was a geek or a “scenester” and I hope to never lose them again. I have also made new friendships that I have yet to explore the depths of, but I can only hope that they will become better friends as the years pass. They see the real me and like it (FINALLY)…I know I’m the new girl, so I probably won’t be a bridesmaid, but at least I’ll be invited to the wedding.

Swedish

JAG VET EN DEJLIG ROSA
I KNOW OF A LOVELY ROSE

Jag vet en dejlig rosa, och vit som liljeblad.
I know of a lovely rose, she is white as the lily’s petal.

När jag på henne tänker, så görs mitt hjärta glad.
It gladdens my heart to think of her.

Dess stämma ger en hjärtans tröst, likt näktergalens blida röst,
Her voice gives great solace, like the gentle sound of the nightingale,

så hövisk och så ljuv.
so courteous and delightful.

Som solen fagert skiner, är hon som purpur klar.
Alike the fair sunshine, she is bright as purple.

Gud låt dig aldrig sörja, men alltid vara glad.
God let you never sorrow, but always be merry.

Må de få komma samman med hjärtans fröjd och gamman,
May they come together with joyful hearts,

som längta till varann.
who long for each other.

Var dag går solen neder och dagelig uppgår.
Each day the sun goes down, each day it rises.

När kommer dagen blider, att jag dig skåda får?
When will the clear day come again, that I can behold you?

I hågen är du städs mig när. Farväl, farväl, min hjärtlig kär.
You are always close to me in my mind. Farewell, farewell, my beloved.

Mångtusende godnatt!
Many thousands of goodnights!

Gypsy Woman

English law describes a gypsy as such: “persons of nomadic habit of life, whatever their race or origin, but does not include members of an organised group of traveling showmen, or persons engaged in traveling circuses, traveling together.”

Gypsies (also known as Romani people or “tinkers”) often live in squalour, begging and panhandling their way through towns and cities. Some perform songs and dances for money. They are known to be thieves and vagrants and on the lower rungs of society’s ladder. When traveling through Europe, our booking agents politely advise us to be weary of them.
Never trust a gypsy.