Over and over and over and over

*It's cold and rainy and gross outside and I can't stop feeling sorry for myself for living in a god forsaken country that is frozen over more often than not. This is what I do in the winter, complain a lot, so if you are regular reader brace yourself for 8 months of monotonous posts about how I'm cold and grumpy.

*I am a little hungover today after attending a shi shi fashion week party that I had no business attending.

*I leave you with more from my trip to California (where it is currently 20 C/68 F -- it is currently 3 C/37 F here in Siberia, I mean Toronto).

Beeeeeeach:


On the Pier in Newport Beach (I am having a Marissa Cooper moment):


I am the epitome of grace and flexibility:

I miss my weiner

Things I learned on my trip to California:

1. When you take the cheap flight to Vegas on a Friday night, you get a plane packed full of people who are taking the cheap flight to Vegas on a Friday night (read: sketchy drunken characters). Case in point was Mr. Mullet from Brantford, Ontario who was about three rows ahead of me and was escorted off of the plane upon landing in handcuffs by the air marshals for being a little too drunk and a little too angry. Unfortunately for him, no one answered his calls for help and to “call the FBI” while he squirmed (walking would have been too easy for the acting authorities and afterall, he wanted to “stick it to the man”) off of the plane while we sat on the tarmac for an hour while he was taken into custody.

2. The airport magazine of choice is “The Economist”. Anyone over the age of 21, if they are reading a magazine in an airplane or an airport, is reading this publication. It makes sense; globe trotting is the activity of the educated bourgeoisie and as such it is necessary to carry the relevant reading materials to show to the world that you are a part of the elite. I do admit, while waiting to board I was tempted to pick up a copy myself. But I looked around me and saw what was happening and in sheer defiance picked up a copy of Us Weekly and Star Magazine.

3. Newport Beach California is not the Newport Beach California depicted on the OC. Now loyal readers will know that I live, eat, and breathe teen dramas so this came as a huge shock. The pier that I walked on Monday is NOT the pier under which Jimmy Cooper got beat up. I am thoroughly disappointed.

4. I also learned that I, and my 30 million fellow Canadians are complete masochists. Why do we live in a country that freezes over for 8 months of the year by choice? Why?

Californiaaaaaaaa

A Good Man is Hard to Find

Someone tried to steal my identity. Social Insurance Number, Address, DOB and all that jazz and tried to open a checking account under my name. They also tried to apply for two credit cards. Whoever it was is obviously an amateur as a simple credit inquiry (obtainable with the above stolen information) would reveal that I can’t even get approved for a Blockbuster card.

I put on some pants today, thus signaling the official end of summer. I give up. Damn you Earth and your 23.5 degree tilted axis.