I am sad. Buy me presents.

It’s getting to that point in the winter when I start to seriously feel the effects of S.A.D. or Seasonal Affective Disorder. After 4 months of sub zero temperatures and minimal sunlight the lack of Vitamin D is starting to get to my head.

Since no amount of self tanning lotion seems to be helping me (I am also turning a very unnatural shade of orange, not to mention that one spot on my back that remains pasty because I can’t seem to reach it), I have compiled a list of material and immaterial (but mostly material) objects that you can send me to help me get over my midwinter blues. They are are follows:

-A Vespa
-A trip to Paris
-A new ipod since crazy coworker from horrible previous corporate job broke mine 4 months ago and only returned it just now, 300 times more broken than before
-Spin shoes so that I can have “street cred” with the scary lesbians at the gym
-A full head of 20 inch hair extensions
-A 4 month supply of Nutella, to see me through until summer

Thank you in advance,

Olgs

Will Work For Pants

I have nothing to write and am generally incredibly boring. This blog has turned into an exercise in self-deprecation as my attempt at a career as a slashy is so far failing miserably. Recent additions to the resume include an ad for a somewhat known boutique here in the T dot where I was paid not monetarily, but in pants. How my agent is going to take 20% of my new pants, I don’t know. But I’m sure there’s some clause in my contract that stipulates how he gets his cut. Perhaps he is entitled to wear them 73 days of the year, and I am to wear them the rest (80%) of the time.

Also, in an attempt to appear slightly more legitimate in the industry, I have signed up for acting classes with a Canadian acting coach who has had some bit parts in a series of homoerotic Showcase and HBO productions. This will either be a very rewarding or a very futile endeavour as the last time I graced the stage was in a 1996 production of Anne of Green Gables in Stratford (I was Ruby Gillis and had one line), and the last time I was seen on TV was back in 1997 on Much Music. Bill Welychka was hosting RSVP (now called “Much on Demand”) and a girlfriend and I had skipped school to hit up the big city. We ended up on Queen Street standing in front of the Much building holding what we thought were hilarious, albeit quite derogatory, signs referring to Mr. Welychka’s manhood. Needless to say our request to hear the Backstreet Boys was ignored and we were promptly asked to leave the premises. I think we were on mushrooms at the time.

In conclusion, I have nice pants.

Ok...

Upon further consideration,

I flippin' LOVE Kelly Clarkson.

Note To Self:

Don't sing outloud to Kelly Clarkson when sitting at Starbucks with headphones on.

New Years Resolutions

1.1 Land a job. A real slashy job so that I can legitimately call myself a slashy. Aspiring slashy is not a very lucrative endeavour
1.2 Become filthy rich and famous
2.1 Move somewhere where it is socially acceptable to wear ridiculously large sunglasses at all times
2.2 Wear ridiculously large sunglasses at all times
3. Grow out bangs (Bangs are soooo 2005)