The Revolution Never Happened

Hello? Is this thing on?

2007-03-19T15:41:00.001-04:00

I took a nap today.

That is all.

Out of Office Reply

2006-12-27T02:07:00.000-05:00

Going on a little vacation and I won't be back until the new year. Going to tackle the wild wild west: Mountains, cowboys, cities where oil runs in the gutters.

Not gonna lie - I CANNOT WAIT for the comeback.

2006-10-31T00:56:00.000-05:00

Come on Brit! You've already shed 26 pounds so far (Source: US Weekly Oct. 23/06); Only about 35 more to go!!!

Oy vey

2006-10-26T18:55:00.000-04:00

1. Monday I am due to start flight attendant boot camp. Our first day consists of running an obstacle course in stilletos pushing a refreshment cart yelling "put your tray and seatback in the upright position". Points are taken off if your pillbox hat falls off. This is all well and good except that I have just been offered a very, very (underline the very) lucrative position at a financial institution that I was previously employed with about 4 years ago.

WHAT THE FUDGE!!!??? Where were all of these job offers 2 months ago when I was pan-handling on Yonge St. and eating donuts out of the dumpster behind the gas station Tim Hortons!!!???

In conclusion, I don't know what to do and the magic 8 ball keeps telling me that things are a little hazy right now and that I should ask again later.

2. I think I want to cut all of my hair off a la Posh Spice.

It's kind of like "Where's Waldo"

2006-10-18T14:29:00.000-04:00

More on Montreal Fashion week. This ditty was sent to me by fellow model Karen. See if you can spot my 0.7 seconds of fame.

eTalk

Add to My Profile | More Videos

My brain hurts.

2006-10-17T23:16:00.000-04:00

1. I am being forced into retirement from the fashion industry. I don't blame the powers that be as 25 is, for all intents and purposes, ancient. I am the J. Howard Marshall of the industry and nothing could have made me feel more so than the fact that I lost my place in the opening show of L'Oreal Fashion Week to none other than a girl who had to give her grade 8 teacher a note explaining her absence from school that day.

1.2 As a result, I have decided to make something of myself and am studying for the LSAT. My plan of attack consists of memorizing every strategy in the book and then writing sample test after sample test after sample test. Please note that interspersed between each sample test is a healthy dose of PerezHilton.com - just to keep me sane.

2. That is all.

Montreal gives me the heebee jeebees; a camera phone photo essay

2006-10-12T23:09:00.000-04:00

1. Back from Montreal. The show was phenomenal. All 11 minutes of it. I had 2 changes and saw a total of maybe 1 minute of actual time in front of the crowd. Now I loved every second of it, but just to give you some insight:

A 10 minute runway show is a function of: 6 hours driving to Montreal + 2 hours of hair and makeup + 2 hours of waiting backstage multiplied by the fact that call time in Toronto was 6 am. Throw in one stressed out designer and one bitchy publicist into the mix and you get 60 seconds of showtime.

2. This was my view from the makeup chair.

3. Every girls' dream.

4. Backstage.

The sweet part was the craft services table just off to the right of this photo. Since this was a world class fashion event NO ONE was touching it which meant more food for me.

5. Rehersal.

6. In conclusion, I am tired. Satisfied but tired. Montreal is a strange little place and I haven't decided if that is because it is lacking in character or if it exudes too much of it. I think there are photos floating around out there that were not taken with a dirty 1 megapixel phone camera. If I find them, I'll put them up.

7. Toronto Fashion Week starts Monday. Now THAT is fun.

On y go à Montréal

2006-10-10T13:25:00.000-04:00

1. T minus 12 hours until Fashion Week madness begins. I take off tomorrow morning for the collections in Montreal and let me tell you how excited I am to spend 5 hours in a van full of sixteen year olds who haven't eaten in weeks. If anyone is in the greater Montreal area and wants to either hang out (and spare me from the task of reassuring my roommates that their fake id's will fool the bouncers at Café Campus) or take in some of the shows, let me know.

2. I got yet another new job. I wasn't feeling the not-for-profit, primarily due to the lack in profits. This new one will see me traversing the skies catering to skeezy business men from NYC to Thunderbay. Can we take a moment though to talk about the Uniforms?

Designed by Pink Tartan. Kim Newport-Mimran is a god.

3. Makeover shows on TLC make me cry.

To the asshat that stole my wallet

2006-09-30T14:48:00.000-04:00

Dear Asshat.

I just want to say with as much sarcasm as possible that I really appreciate you stealing my wallet and ultimately the entire contents of my life. On the surface, I don’t really blame you. It’s my fault for going out to celebrate a friends’ success and for having a few drinks and dancing. The nerve of me to do so! Also, it’s a nice wallet, the perfect size – not too big not too small – and really good quality leather. Just to give you some info incase you were wanting to sell it; it’s from Europe and handmade and retails for around $400. I’ve kept it in good condition so you should be able to see some profit for it on ebay – hey you can use my credit card to set up a pay pal account! Also, I hope that $200 in cash that I had in there treated you well. I hope it covered the cost of your cab ride back to Oakville or Markham or wherever hail from as well as treated you and your asshat friends to some drinks and late night shwarma.

I hope you had fun with my credit card too. I just managed to pay it off and by the time I cancelled it the next day I see that you managed to rack up around $500 in charges. That’s awesome! Good for you! You seem like quite the cunning character so I bet you will have no problem figuring out my PIN for my bank account.

I also wanted to thank you for taking my health card, my citizenship card, and my student card. I don’t really plan on getting sick or getting hit by a car anytime soon so it’s really of no use to me right now. And my citizenship card, well I won’t be traveling anywhere now that I have no money so that’s no biggie either. Hey, it only takes about 12 – 15 months to replace that card and I wanted to thank you for forcing that on me. I’ll use this time to catch up with all of my friends and family within at 5 km radius of where I live since that’s as far as I can really walk. Also my student card is no big deal, The University of Toronto is known to be the easiest bureaucracy to navigate so I should have no problem at all replacing it with no other forms of identification on me.

Also, enjoy the Beirut concert at the Horseshoe next Wednesday. There are two tickets in the centre flap that I bought for myself and as a present for my boyfriend. I would be much obliged if you could send me a review of the show since I won't be attending seeing as the show is now sold out.

Oh and just to let you know, I’ve amassed almost 30,000 points on the Shoppers Optimum card that was in the second flap so please do go get yourself some Axe deodorant, on me.

Sincerely,

Olgs

Therapy

2006-09-26T19:30:00.000-04:00

To Whom This May Concern; (and it really only concerns one person that I must deal with on a professional basis);

I would be much obliged if you could please go fuck yourself. Thank you.

Sincerely,

Olgs

Expletive

2006-09-18T16:18:00.000-04:00

1. I kind of want to hide under a rock or disappear into a cave and fall asleep until May. I don't really get along with winter all too well and it's impending appearance is making me a little agitated.

2. The new job is a little hard on the psyche. How do you tell someone that they have to shell out over five grand to fix their face when they are living on less than $500 a month. "Sorry sir, do you have an inconsequential organ you can sell to repair the damage you sustained while incarcerated and tortured in a Middle Eastern prison?"

3. I am Debbie Downer today.

Deep Thoughts

2006-09-13T12:19:00.000-04:00

1. Last night I attended a little soiree in honour of the (potential) future Prime Minister of Canada; Michael Ignatieff. Before you judge, I was there to support some friends who have shed the shackles of academia and employment in pursuit of lofty political dreams and have found themselves a part of Ol’ Iggy’s entourage. The man of the hour presented his diaphanous diatribe with about as much charisma as a popsicle stick and raised some red flags – and I don’t mean of the Liberal kind.

With much conviction he declared that we “must recognize the nation of Quebec as such – as a nation; a distinct nation of people”. With national recognition being a fundamental part of the State building process (see Article 3 of the Montevideo Convention on the Rights and Duties of States), does this not then provide dangerous fuel for the engine of separatism?

2. Why in heck does Tim Hortons not take Interac?

Is it fashion week yet?

2006-09-09T18:08:00.000-04:00

The venue:

The models:

The madness:

And it's not even fashion week...
Confirmed: L'Oreal Fashion week x2; Montreal Fashion week x1. Hopefully more to follow!

4th of July

2006-09-06T19:41:00.000-04:00

1. I interviewed a man today who had been incarcerated at Iran’s notorious Evin prison. A year and a half of his life was spent there in solitary confinement on charges such as propaganda, propagating dissent, and espionage. He sat across from me sipping his tea while his wife joked through an interpreter about waiting for her husband to come home from work.

1.2 If I ever complain about anything ever again I give you all permission to smack me upside the head.

1.3 Yes, I got a new job.

2. Fashion week, smashion week; the castings have commenced. Anorexia or bust!

Mount Wroclai

2006-08-20T01:58:00.000-04:00

1. Not much to say other than I am perhaps the happiest person on the planet for no reason at all. Don't ask me to explain because I won't. "It's personal".

2. I am the new face of Mavi Jeans. Boo yah.

3. Did I mention that I'm happy?

Ceci N'est Pas du Disco

2006-08-05T12:30:00.000-04:00

1. I moved! I now reside in the heart of the "entertainment district". I do not find the surroundings very entertaining.

1.2 I do, however, have the best roomie and quite possibly the nicest apartment ever.

2. 36 more days until school starts - I need to get my back-to-school outfit and my 10 pack of gel pens right away lest Staples Business Depot sell out since they started running the back to school commercials in early June.

2.1 Oh yeah. I'm going back to school. Yay.

mmmmmbop

2006-07-26T22:46:00.000-04:00

1. I think I have a home. I find out tomorrow if I actually do or if I am indeed moving to an 8'x4' locker on Lakeshore. A housewarming party in an actual home is a lot more enticing than one in a large cage filled with disassembled furniture and boxes.

2. I am really busy: print campaigns, editorials, and all that wonderful stuff. I would like to take this moment to thank my agent for the kick arse job this past week.

3. Nancy Grace and her bleeding heart Republican rhetoric makes me throw up a little bit in my mouth.

A scenic world where the sunsets are all breathtaking

2006-07-20T15:39:00.000-04:00

1. I am moving. I don't know where yet. Most likely to a storage locker on Lakeshore.

2. Can we take a moment and talk about this guy for a second? I'm in love.

It's All Gonna Break

2006-06-26T18:13:00.000-04:00

1. Someone threatened to set me on fire last night and then waited until I got off work at 4:30 am to follow through with their threat. I am officially on stress leave.

2. I danced on the island on Saturday surrounded by 10,000 fellow revelers to the happiest music I have ever heard. This - followed by the most delicious burger I have ever eaten - made for a weekend of superlatives.

Saving Animals Through Fashion

2006-06-05T19:09:00.000-04:00

I have now personally prevented the extinction of all animals everywhere courtesy of this pose right here.

Caesers + Patios + Old Friends = Love

2006-05-24T17:56:00.000-04:00

Enough said.

Handbag Memoirs

2006-05-15T02:00:00.000-04:00

1.1 Please ignore the outburst below. I was less than sober at the time of writing but the rules of blogging stipulate that all posts remain unedited after publishing no matter what state one was in at the time of posting. I've been on this weird emotional rollercoaster for the last couple of weeks. It's been a positive ride though which makes me the opposite of emo.

1.2 I do however need to mention that I have some of the best friends one could ever ask for.

2. If I ever work 68 hours in one week again, please shoot me or hand me a blunt object to beat myself with.

3. I love it when clapping is used in songs.

4. It's new agent time. I'm excited.

5. I love my mom.

6.

I hear in my mind all of this music and it breaks my heart.

2006-05-13T04:04:00.000-04:00

I don’t know if it is possible to be any happier than I am right now.

Model Marathon

2006-05-06T18:34:00.000-04:00

36 hours
3 photographers
8 photoshoots
2 shows

Coming home to sleep on a yoga mat on a hardwood floor because you are STILL waiting for IKEA to deliver your furniture: Priceless.

A Social Experiment

2006-05-01T23:50:00.000-04:00

1. Is it bad when you black out at 6:30 pm on a Sunday and by 8 you are making your first drunk calls? I have officially rekindled my romance with tequila. Oh summer, you’re going to make this hard on me.

2. I am extremely productive for someone underemployed.

Why you gotta be so emo?

2006-04-21T01:37:00.000-04:00

I came home tonight to find that I had the HUGEST zit on my chin. Upon closer inspection, the huge zit turned out to be dried up crusty chicken wing sauce.
It had been there since 7 pm.
It is now 1:30 am.

One and two and three

2006-04-19T00:19:00.000-04:00

1. I went in to work tonight thinking that I was going to be there until the standard closing time of 4 am and proceeded to eat my weight in chocolate covered espresso beans to prepare for the long haul. At midnight I was informed that I could go home and now I am so incredibly wired that I don't know what to do with myself.

2. I had the most delicious waffles for lunch (brunch?) today with an old friend. What made the waffles even better was that we ate them outside in the sun.

3. Tomorrow I am saving baby seals through fashion.

Work In Progress

2006-04-11T20:16:00.001-04:00

When I was in LA I hated it. Now that I'm leaving in 4 hours I want to stay. I think I'm bipolar.

This trip was good but too long. I learned a lot about the industry that I wish I could have learned in other ways, but I guess "the hard way" is the way to make a lesson stick.

Pictures to follow for all 5 of you that read this.

Charlotte NC here I come. Then you Toronto, I can't wait to see you.

P.S. I love LA girls. They have "sass appeal". And tans. Oh and Target. It's like Zellers but way better.

Taco/Burrito

2006-04-04T14:55:00.000-04:00

In LA at the moment; am counting down the days until I go home. I have started etching a line a day into the sterile concrete wall of my “bedroom” of the agency apartment. This ain’t 8th and Ocean that’s for sure. Everyone here smells like patchouli and the only topic of sustainable conversation seems to be weightloss and “who is creepy/a loser/hot”. I feel like I’m at a bizarro anorexic highschool in Eastern Europe.

There was an earthquake this morning.

I am grumpy.

Sucking/Not Sucking

2006-03-21T15:38:00.000-05:00

Things that have sucked in the last 48 hours:
-Sweating non-stop
-A Spinal Tap

Things that have not sucked in the last 48 hours:
-Confirming that I will be going back to LA in April
-Being booked for a runway show hosted by the one and only Jeanne Beker

Warning: Do Not Feed The Models

2006-03-01T18:36:00.000-05:00

I feel like I need to recount my trip to LA in writing. Not the boring administrative businessy part of it, but the logistical details need to be put down on paper in order to forever document what was perhaps the most surreal 24 hours of my life.

Firstly, I must point out that I was booked on a flight to LA on El AL: Israeli Airlines. Now El Al unofficially checks their passengers based on their “risk level” which is assessed in a 10 minute interview with security prior to entering the check in area of the terminal. After much drilling by the head of security (red flag: my outbound and inbound tickets were only 23 hours apart and were booked for me by a third party), I guess I was deemed “low risk” as I was checked in and ushered on to the back of the plane with a group of rabbi’s.

Upon my arrival in LA, I made my way to the Budget car rental, as per the instructions sent to me by the agency office’s travel agent, where I was informed that no car had been held for me. Seeing as I had an hour to get to West Hollywood from LAX, this was very inconvenient news. What was adding to the inconvenience was the fact that my cell phone wasn’t feeling the roaming and Shanikwa at Budget wouldn’t let me use the phone to call the travel agent for help.

Luckily my hotel was within “walking distance” (read: I could see it’s neon beacon hovering above on the other side of airport) from the Budget office and I managed to check in uneventfully (despite the fact that the concierge kept calling me “John” and somehow managed to find, lose, and then find the per diem check that was couriered over the night before all in a span of 10 minutes). I called my contact at the travel agency and after much confusion, was told to call “Jorge” on “his cell phone” in 15 minutes.

Jorge, much to my non-surprise, was a very large Mexican man with the hugest Durango I had ever seen. After meeting Jorge in the lobby, I got into his huge Durango and drove to an impound lot off of the freeway where I was presented with a set of keys to a brand new silver Mercedes. “This is my brudders car,” Jorge beamed, “just fill it up and bring it back here tomorrow.”

Almost ready to brave the 405 into Hollywood, I had to make a quick stop at the bank designated by the agency to cash my per diem check. After waiting in line for 25 minutes, and after giving a 10 minute lesson on the various forms of identification we use in Canada, I was informed that the per diem check had a stop payment issued and that I would be cashless for the duration of my stay in LA. Back to the hotel and back on the phone with the travel agent. I was officially an hour late for my meeting and was approaching 8 hours of not seeing so much as a calorie.

At that point in time I had to cut my losses and hopped on the freeway to get to my meeting. The meeting was uneventful and long and my stomach was rumbling the whole time. Upon it’s conclusion, I stood up and shook hands with the agents there and walked out into the lobby where I fainted. Yes, I fainted in the lobby of a prominent model and talent agency in West Hollywood, California.

I awoke to someone yelling “get the model a sandwich, stat!” (ok, I’m embellishing that part, but that would have been awesome), and to a crowd of people hovering around me with looks of shock, horror, and a few laughs (come on, it’s always funny to see someone fall). Fortunately by then, the travel agent had couriered over some traveler’s checks and I got in Jorge’s “brudder’s” Mercedes and drove like a speed demon to the first Carl’s Jr. location the GPS thingy could find.

In conclusion, LA is warm.

Back from LA

2006-02-22T21:53:00.000-05:00

Highlight of the trip: Purchasing a box of duty free "Freedom Chocolates".

Macadamia and democracy clusters for all!

Wooooo it's the Future!

2006-02-14T04:41:00.000-05:00

There’s a guy at the restaurant that I work at that does Tarot card readings for patrons upon request. He’s a strange fella, really nice, but a little too “all knowing”. Since I started working there I have avoided his card reading ways partially because I am a skeptic, and partially because I am a believer and am of the mind that ignorance is bliss. However tonight I was unable to avoid his cards and let him do a reading for me. I will let you know in the coming weeks if what he said came true.

In other news, I am off to LA next week to meet with an agency there. Am looking forward to the much needed injection of Vitamin D that the California sunshine will provide, even if it is for only 8 hours.

Castings, Castings, and more Castings

2006-02-09T16:26:00.000-05:00

The cattle call for Toronto Fashion Week has begun.

Each day I wake up at 11 am (no one in fashion works before noon), to join the herd of 6 foot tall bone racks that is currently running around the city desperately vying for spots in any of the shows in March.

Castings are... interesting. There is really something to be said for all of the girls that put themselves through this season after season. For a bunch of illiterate teenaged anorexics, they really do have thick skins and a drive that I just cannot match. After being told over and over that we are too old, too short, too fat, too tall, too thin, too pale, too cross-eyed, these girls keep at it with a smile on their face and a strut in their step. Barring the fact that we are all pretty much in some stage of hypoglycemic shock, it's an experience that I am tackling one non-fat latte at a time.... and am managing to have at least a little bit of fun.

And finally, in keeping with the self-deprecating spirit of this blog: Self esteem crushing highlight of the week involves being told by a casting director with a disgusted sneer on his face that I am "much prettier in my pictures than in real life".

Guess Who's Coming Home!!!!

2006-02-01T04:30:00.000-05:00

5 more days until I am reunited with the love of my life.
(I love him more than Peter Gallagher).

I am sad. Buy me presents.

2006-01-26T15:37:00.000-05:00

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

2006-01-17T04:36:00.000-05:00

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...

2006-01-09T14:45:00.000-05:00

Upon further consideration,

I flippin' LOVE Kelly Clarkson.

Note To Self:

2006-01-09T14:25:00.000-05:00

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

New Years Resolutions

2006-01-05T11:42:00.000-05:00

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)

Sonia: The best Beagle in the world

2005-12-27T18:05:00.000-05:00

We have to put my dog down tomorrow.

Bye bye Sonia, you were the bestest doggie in the whole wide world.

Olgs’ Guide to surviving X-mas shopping

2005-12-22T13:45:00.000-05:00

1. Bring food and water and wear adult diapers. You will be burning off around 900 calories per hour running around the mall, dodging packs of adolescent Asians and geriatrics so you will be hungry and dehydrated. Also, the capacity of the mall increases by about 400% during this time a year, however the washrooms do not increase in availability. Do the math.

2. Don’t expect help from anyone. The staff hired to retail positions this time of year are seasonal, thus temporary. They are only there to collect their 8$/hour so that they can have enough come December 24th to buy that Xbox 360 or iPod Nano and don’t give two cares if you need help going through the pile of cashmere sweaters that has formed under the rack looking for a size.

3. Speaking of cashmere…. Abide by the “one present for you, one present for me” rule. This little dose of retail therapy interspersed in your day of hell at the mall helps make the whole experience a little more bearable. I abide by this rule religiously and thusly came home today with more cashmere than one girl really needs.

4. Don’t be afraid to throw fists. I lost out on a sweet deal today because I was run down by a middle aged woman in the men’s section of H&M. Here I was “respecting my elders” and all that crap and here she is throwing me down in a half nelson in order to grab the last large corduroy blazer in chocolate brown. I was left bruised and with the camel which is clearly an inferior colour.

Morocco

2005-12-19T01:10:00.000-05:00

Tonight we’ll dance like we’re in love

2005-12-18T18:38:00.000-05:00

A dear friend of mine is leaving in a few weeks for Europe for a long, long time. Off to pursue Hemingway-esque adventures complete with absinthe and whores, they are taking off into the unknown with a pocket full of cash and no agenda. To say that I am jealous is an understatement, however those that know me know that I too did my own Kerouac tour of Europe and North Africa back in 1999 – 2001.

I say this because the other night while said friend and I were sitting up way too late and with way too much wine in our belly’s, I was reminiscing about my trip and it got me thinking about the varying degrees of adventure one encounters while on the road. Surely there are the big moments, the first time you step off of the boat in Tangiers, realizing that you are in Africa, Arabic Africa at that, with no idea about the cultural nuances that await. But what I realize now, four years later, is that it is the insignificant instances that a) remain with me perhaps more so than the big “wow” moments, and b) have had conceivably the greatest influence on not only my geography, but on the personal path I have chosen.

Case in point was one night I spent in Seville, Spain. This is the story that I told my friend on the night above. A story that I had almost all but forgotten and had not recounted until then. I had just spent almost three weeks in Morocco, camping in the desert with a nomadic tribe of Berbers, watching sunrise and sunset over the dunes of the Sahara, not showering, or sleeping really. Enjoying day long camel caravans to the next dune valley camp, en route to salt-trading locales. Consuming a consistent diet of carrots, endives, camel meat and pigeon, my novice western stomach could not hold out and it wasn’t long before I contracted a mean case of dysentery about 40 km into Algeria. Running a fever of over 102 and with gastro-intestinal symptoms not suitable to be recounted in writing, I knew that I had to see a doctor. An actual doctor though and not an Algerian local named Ahmed who has a cousin in France who went to med school for a year so he, of course, practices medicine by proxy (an actual option presented to me). Having long suffered stomach ailments including the occasional ulcer, I knew that one diagnostic tool that would need to be employed would be a colonoscopy and I wasn’t about to see Ahmed about that. Long story short, I had to somehow get to Portugal and I needed to get there before my stomach ate it’s own lining.

The trek to Portugal took 76 hours overland and including the following: camel → bus → train → boat → bus → train → bus. Somewhere between the camel and the train was a stop in Seville. A Moorish Spanish city that I had spent several days in only a month before. I knew that if I got into Seville just before midnight I could catch the last bus to Faro, a bustling Portuguese city complete with doctors with actual degrees in medicine. But the Spanish are known for their fiestas and siestas and not for their clockwork train system. I missed the bus to Faro by 15 minutes.

It was just after midnight, in Seville, in August. With no room at the inn I decided to spend the night at the bus station ensuring a seat on the first bus to Faro at 6 am and a very inexpensive sleep. I had just settled in for the night (read propped myself up against my backpack in the corner of the main station building) when I saw a young man of about 16 being mugged at knife point not 20 feet away from me. Faced with three heavily set Spanish challengers, the young man presented his passport and wallet with little hesitance. I promptly got up and exited the station building not wanting to be the next friend the three Spaniards made.

Going on recent memory, I walked along the river to the gothic quarter knowing that the previous hostel I stayed at was pleasantly situated in a square, Placa Cruces, that harboured 3 crucifixes in the centre. I concocted a subconscious plan to camp out under the crosses; my Catholic school logic being that no one would want to harm a young girl sleeping under a crucifix. Still running a fever and feeling generally ill, I walked in the dead of night through Seville to my intuitive destination. It wasn’t long before I heard hurried footsteps behind me and braced myself to meet what I thought would be the three hooligans from the bus station. I began to conjure the best stories I could give them: “I was just mugged myself; I have no money; I’m homeless, really I am, despite my $400 backpack and my $200 trekking shoes”. Plan B was to turn quickly and to start throwing fists however I tossed that plan out the window quickly because I punch like a girl and weigh 115 lbs. I did turn around though and saw not three Spanish muggers but the young boy from the station running to catch up to me.

“Good thing you left when you did,” he said, “they mugged the old guy right after me”. A hint of a German accent permeated his words. We exchanged names (his was Konrad, which is also my brothers and fathers name) and stories and he decided to come with me to Placa Cruces.

He had nothing on him. He had handed over everything to the bus station bastards and was waiting for the German consulate to open so that he could file for new papers and contact his family to go home. I told him that I was sick and en route to a hospital and we decided to be friends for the night.

Konrad stayed with me that night in Seville. I unrolled my sleeping bag under the crucifix and attempted to sleep a partial sleep. Between fever dreams I would roll over and see Konrad sitting up, awake and alert. He would ask me if I was alright, smile, and continue to man the post under the crosses. At 5:30 am, he woke me up and told me that my bus was almost here. He helped me roll up my sleeping bag and I gave him all of the cash I had on me. We said our goodbyes. I made it to the hospital in Faro and within 6 hours my fever was down and I was eating solids.

Locked away in my subconscious vault for four years, I want to say thank you to young Konrad from Germany. For watching over me that night in Seville.

A brief message about the post below

2005-12-14T19:50:00.000-05:00

I am not usually that surly. One must note that it was 4 am and I had just finished an 11 hour shift catering to what were most likely underage students drinking for the first time. I do apologize if I came off a little harsh.

Dear Cheap York University Students

2005-12-14T04:18:00.000-05:00

Allow me to give you a bit of advice. When you come to a bar, my bar, any bar really, there is a custom in this country called “tipping”. It is an expression of gratitude for the service being rendered to you. See, when you bark orders across a bar and are met promptly with a beverage and a smile, it is customary to leave some kind of monetary reward behind for the server as a sign of your appreciation. Especially you, blonde girl with shirt that was much too small for you and with badly dyed blonde hair, when your drink comes to a total of $5.75, and you give me $6.00, I give you $0.25 as change. Now I do appreciate that you took that whole quarter and then rummaged around in your purse for 3 minutes taking up prime bar space looking for that dime you left me, it took a lot of effort. However, the amount of effort that it took me to make your customized vodka concoction is worth a little more than your flippin’ dime. Take that dime and shove it. Also buy some clothes that fit as your back rolls were turning off my regulars who actually tip.

Thank you,

Your friendly neighbourhood bartender

I still love Peter Gallagher

2005-12-06T15:18:00.000-05:00

ABC News announced today that they are replacing my late crush, Peter Jennings, with:

Bob Woodruff.

Now I’m a little skeptical of their choice, but one cannot help but notice Woodruff’s uncanny resemblance to:

Bob Woodruff, the new love of my life?

To be continued.

Monday Hangover

2005-12-05T20:45:00.000-05:00

1. An essential part of being a full time slashy is a job in the service industry. All models are actors who are bartenders. That’s a law. I learned this week that Sunday is slashy industry night. Industry night is when slashy’s go to drink and they do so on Sunday because that is the only night when they don’t have to work at their bars and restaurants. I took part in this ritual yesterday and proceeded to ingest my weight in tequila at a nondescript bar on Front Street.

2. I was cast in a beer commercial that would have been a very lucrative endeavour. I was however promptly fired once the casting director realized that I was underage.

3. I have officially crossed the threshold of number of listens necessary to like the new Broken Social Scene album.

4. Olivia Chow, wife of NDP leader Jack Layton, just came to my door campaigning for the seat representing my riding. Had she not interrupted me during the “Paige Michaelchuk is a lesbian” episode of Degrassi: The Next Generation, she would have had my vote.

I just got the best drunken phone call EVER

2005-12-04T03:26:00.000-05:00

I love Cat Lady and the girls of 560 Bathurst. They are my boyfriend.

Romeo D'Allaire is crying

2005-12-01T18:42:00.000-05:00

1. A friend and I were out for coffee the other day at an established Canadian coffee franchise. They offer the standards: Medium roast of the day, Irish Cream, and other flavoured selections. The feature that day, however, was “The Rwandan Cup of Hope”.

I have no words.

Except that I am excited for tomorrow’s featured roast: “The Sudanese Cup of Displacement”.

2. I had an audition for a Canadian television show. My agent hailed it as a “Canadian OC” however in talking to the casting director it reeked of Train 48 production values and wardrobe from Garage Clothing in the mall basement. The plot would probably consist of “hip” and “current” Canadian events such as the legalization of marijuana. I did not get a call back. I don’t know whether to be seriously relieved or if this is indication that I should give up.

Olgs does runway and is still sick

2005-11-29T14:14:00.000-05:00

I just about started writing this in third person but midway into the topic sentence I was already annoyed. I don’t know if writing in third person is more juvenile or pompous. I haven’t figured that out yet. And now for a brief update:

1. Had my first real runway show on the weekend. Doing runway is really quite entertaining. It involves sitting backstage for 4 hours with 24 emaciated 16 year olds waiting for the show to start. Needless to say the pubescent claws were out in full force.

2. The disease I contracted last week has now morphed into some strange condition in which I have a symbiotic relationship with some kind of slippery grey creature who resides in my lungs. Too much? Sorry.

3. A part of the deal made with my parents to allow me to live the frivolous lifestyle of a slashy this year was the promise that I would apply to and attend some kind of graduate school in September of 2006. Seeing as the deadlines for applications are approaching, I figure I have two weeks now to:

-write the GRE
-write a statement of intent
-find 3 profs who don’t think I’m a total retard
-write 2 essays on 2 different topics
-come up with a documentary proposal

It’s like a full course load and I’m not even in school. Leaving it to the last minute is just my way of keeping the experience authentic - I don’t think that I handed anything in on time during my 4 years at U of T.

I fell in love with a place in my mind

2005-11-21T16:39:00.000-05:00

Today is officially my first day as a full time slashy. I have shed the shackles of corporate Canada to live the unorthodox life of a model/actress/bartender (the last of the three components of slashy-ism serving as the only reliable source of income). I woke up this morning at 10 am (10 am! Post morning rush hour! No more subway commutes complete with weirdos and unidentified touching) hoping to do all of those things that only those without day jobs do: Watch daytime tv, run errands to government offices, workout at a nearly empty gym. However I opened my mouth to let out a small cry of glee only to have a bizarre silent squawk escape my lips. Of course. My first day of freedom has to see me sicker than I have been in a really long time.

I got out of bed and crawled to the bathroom where I proceeded to ingest any and all tablets and syrups my medicine cabinet had to offer. I then assumed the fetal position on the couch and have only moved slightly since. I have called everyone I know to come take care of me/keep me company, however I am beginning to realize that perhaps this change of career and pace is going to be a lonely one…. Everyone I know is a nine-to-fiver.

Happy Birthday to the bestest coolest Dad in the whole wide world

2005-11-12T14:18:00.000-05:00

Happy 50th Birthday Tatus!

I want to be like you when I grow up.

Fa la la la la la la la la la la

2005-11-01T14:01:00.000-05:00

Is there any place left on Earth that is immune to Christmas? If so, how do I get there?

Over and over and over and over

2005-10-22T23:27:00.000-04:00

*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

2005-10-18T01:18:00.000-04:00

Things I learned on my trip to California:

2005-10-13T17:24:00.000-04:00

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

2005-10-13T17:23:00.000-04:00

A Good Man is Hard to Find

2005-10-02T01:17:00.000-04:00

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.

BK Poutine

2005-09-27T21:32:00.000-04:00

I refuse to acknowledge this change in the weather as a change in the season. You guys can all shut the heck up, its summer and its going to be summer until I start wearing pants…which won’t be anytime soon as I seriously dislike pants. As long as the days are above 20 degrees Celsius (68 Fahrenheit for my star spangled readers) I will not be wearing pants. Don’t try to convince me otherwise, I will just get grumpy and passive aggressive and I guarantee it won’t be pleasant.

Meep

2005-09-23T18:34:00.000-04:00

Now that I have internet I don't feel like writing here anymore.

I am moving to California.

I wish....

But I am going back for a few days to visit this guy.

Confessions

2005-09-09T21:43:00.000-04:00

1. I love TV.
No, you have no idea. I flippin’ love TV. My work week nights are complete courtesy of the new fall line up and I have never been happier.

2. I like cheesy radio music.
Peruse my ipod and you would never think that I know all of the words to Kelly Clarkson’s Since You Been Gone; but I do. And I rock out to it every morning.

3. I’m a slob.
I always clean up the minute before someone comes over. But generally, I live amongst my own filth.

4. I don’t recycle or use the “green bin”.
I eat out 88% of the time and as such produce very little waste at home. But when I do, it all goes in the same bag. I’m responsible for the destruction of the environment and global warming. Me. It’s all me.

Countdown

2005-09-06T19:27:00.000-04:00

There are exactly 48.5 nail-biting hours remaining before the season premiere of The O.C.

I heard it from a friend, the revolution never happened.

2005-08-28T00:48:00.000-04:00

On the bus ride to Stratford this weekend I sat next to a staunch Conservative from Alberta. After an hour, I had him convinced that homosexuals had a right to be married and that women had a right to choose. I also had him doubting what he referred to as “the absolute truth”. It got kind of tense and he accused me of being a post-modernist. I made a joke about Ralph Klein and then we talked about the weather.

I've broken up with the internet.

2005-08-19T22:55:00.000-04:00

Blogshot!

Can't touch this do do do do do do do do

2005-08-07T18:25:00.000-04:00

I bought hair dye at a garage sale for 3$ on Saturday. It was slightly expired but after I got over the burning sensation on my scalp, the end result is not too bad. My hair is pitch black now and Lavi says I look like Ashlee Simpson. I think I look like the angry goth kids from my highschool (circa 1997).

We went to karaoke at the Gladstone last night and Fake Prom 2005 was carrying on in the room next to the bar. We snuck in and danced like sluts on the stage. At my real prom in 1998 I danced like a slut on the stage for real. This time I was being semi ironic. Highlights included clearing a circle in the crowd and running-man battling with a bunch of girls sporting Jessica McClintock creations. I totally kicked their asses and was given “mad props” by party goers all night.

I am way too hungover and tired to write more right now. Plus Rambo is on tv and he is about to go back to Pakistan.

I am the only one left on the face of the planet without a cell phone.

2005-08-03T22:41:00.000-04:00

I had one once, but then I realized that Rogers owned my soul and my credit record. It was a relationship that ended really badly, I’m still reeling from the effects.

Generally though, when it comes to communication I am a few years behind. Furthermore, with the recent departure of my upstairs neighbours to more affordable pastures, the gap between my personal communication outlets and that of the current trend has widened. For almost a year now, I have been mooching off of a wireless network that I believed to be emanating from the apartment above mine. “Jeff and Lisa” (as the network was called) had no idea that I was downloading gigabytes of music nightly while they footed the bill. However, this week, “Jeff and Lisa” moved to Parkdale and with them went my internet. Now the normal course of action would be to contact Bell or Rogers and suck it up and get a network of my own. However, I refuse to support the Bell barons, and well, given my “history” with Rogers, I now find myself feeling around in the dark, thrust back to 1994. Does anyone even remember what computers were like before internet? Glorified calculators really.

I’m trying to find the charm in my situation though. I write this from a trendy café on College Street. I admit, I got a little “gussied up” to come out here. Long gone are the comforts of surfing the net and blog stalking in my underwear. I realize that posting here now means that I will subject myself to the same ritual I subject myself on any given weekend. Makeup, hair, outfit carefully selected – I’m going out in public afterall. However, it’s hot out and this café is sweaty. My carefully applied makeup is streaming down my face and I’m starting to form pit stains on my American Apparel shirt.

I’m starting to feel less like the romantic lone writer enjoying a glass of Pinot by herself on a Wednesday night in Little Italy and more like the loner wannabe trendoid who’s friend’s are all out at art shows, free concerts, or cottages leading much more exciting lives. I think people are starting to either feel sorry for me or make fun of me.

Last weekend recap

2005-07-26T23:53:00.000-04:00

10: Number of Martinis made with stolen liquor
9: number of times I laughed at Joe Piscopo
8: number of studded belts at the party
7: Pairs of water wings
6: house number of the “new” Ross St. Party House
5: a house number that we will always hold dear in our hearts
4: times I threw up
3: times I almost passed out while blowing up inflatable palm tree
2: members of Sloan that kept us rocking to Foghat and Canned Heat until 3 am
1: Wizard of Rock

See Cat Lady Jess for further details.

Politics

2005-07-20T23:12:00.000-04:00

I’m really glad that they (“they” being the television gods – gods like Jerry Bruckheimer and Aaron Spelling in his glory days) came up with the idea for the show “Brat Camp”. For those not-in-the-know, Brat Camp is the latest show riding the reality TV wave. The show is obviously a spin-off of my second favourite Jenny Jones (circa 1999) segment: My teen is a hoochie/My 8 year old beats me up/Problem Kids/etc. (This segment is second only to the “From geek to chic” episodes where the hideously nerdy/ugly kids came back years later to confront bullies and old crushes). The problem teen episodes always ended up with the teens spending a whole 2 hours at “boot camp” and they would come back miraculously reformed. Often in the follow up episodes said teens would have found Jesus or be pregnant – apparently Jesus can be found at juvie. Anyways, I’m really glad Brat Camp is gracing the TV airwaves. It’s like a full hour of Jenny’s boot camp every week.

Completely off topic but I want to call it before anyone else does: Bob Geldof will be nominated, if not win, the Nobel Peace Prize.

I say this not because I think he deserves it, but just because he is annoying enough for everyone to notice and no one can tell me that he didn’t have that in the back of his mind when he was saving the world through rock and roll. I just want to be able to say “I told you so” when it happens.

Furthermore, I will give "mad props" to anyone who can name one song by the Boomtown Rats OTHER than I Don't Like Mondays.

Community Service

2005-07-19T18:30:00.000-04:00

My friends and I have started a charitable organization where we go around hugging retards. Today's lucky retard was Hunter.

EDIT: Is it still ok to say retard?

It Came From Beneath the Sea

2005-07-18T22:48:00.001-04:00

This one time, Cat Lady Jess and I were almost eaten by sea monsters.

The smell of urine and cigarettes reminds me of Paris.

2005-07-17T15:43:00.000-04:00

I’ve been home a week now and after dealing with jetlag and the residual gastro-intestinal effects of Scottish cooking, I am now back to what I consider normal.

Highlight of the week:
Seeing my best friends drunk

Lowlight of the week:
Getting in the way of their vomit

Back from Scotland and G8 Madness

2005-07-10T23:23:00.000-04:00

I am back from Scotland and from the G8 summit. Am much too tired to write indepth post about it as there is just way too much to say and I am way too jetlagged. Here is a photo to tie you over until then as I know you are all DYING to hear about it (damn you internet and your inability to convey sarcasm).

Anyways, here are a few members of the research group with Canadian Prime Minister Paul Martin and Deputy Minister of Foreign Affairs Peter Harder.

From left to right: Tony, Vanessa, Me, Jeremy, The Hon. Paul Martin, Peter Harder, Janel, Andrew, Chris and Phil.

Make Poverty History and Day One of the Summit

2005-07-05T20:24:00.000-04:00

The G8 summit is well underway despite the fact the the G8 leaders haven't even landed in Scotland yet. Blair and Chirac are in locked in a staring match in Singapore given tomorrow's Olypmic announcement and Martin is in Ireland being "briefed" (read touring the Guinnes factory). I got up bright and early this morning and boarded the "high security" shuttle to travel to Gleneagles to begin my four day fiesta of research and analysis. Two hours, four security checkpoints, and one "metal perimeter ring" later, I got off at the Gleneagles Equestrian Centre to begin the days work. I won't get into the work as it will put you to sleep but I will tell you about the free swag: Free wireless mouse, USB keys, boring stuff, boring stuff, BOTTLES OF SCOTCH. We're not talking samplers here but full bottles of Johnny Walker Green Label. I love capitalism.

The media centre closed at 6 pm today (It commences 24 hour ops tomorrow) so I'm at the "Alternative Media Centre" in Edinburgh at the moment working on reports and analysis. The AMC as it is called is also headquarters for civil society and anarchist organizations and is located at some hippie run cafe. I am much too hairless to be in here but its free wireless.

Some pics from Saturdays Make Poverty History March (OK, I may be a filthy capitalist and I may not necessarily ideologically affiliate myself with some of the causes represented but I must say the sight of it was rather moving).

Making Poverty History:

Bob Geldof made us do it:

Edinburgh Castle (I think):

The G8 is an evil monster:

Who will make this garbage history?

Greetings From Edinburgh

2005-07-04T12:46:00.000-04:00

On Friday I left this:

For this:

To see these guys:

I'm in Edinburgh at the moment on a research trip with the G8 Research Group at the University of Toronto, a group that I have been with for two years now. We are a group of about 20 students that get accredited to go to the G8 summit every year to write reports on issues that matter. It's all rather glamorous really, we are the youngest ones there and as such are not really taken seriously, but hey, it's the experience that counts.

I've been here since early (read ungodly hour of the morning early) Saturday morning and am taking in the civil society activities in the days leading up to the actual summit. I went on the Make Poverty History March on Saturday because Bob Geldof told me to, and just came from some anarchist carnival on the main drag where 150 protestors were stopped from smashing in The Gap and Starbucks by 300 riot cops on horses. I love democracy.

Updates and photos to follow.

The following is based on a true story.

2005-06-28T18:32:00.000-04:00

I hail from a small town, and as such, I am quite liberal in my social interactions. I am not adverse to smiling at people on the street or saying hi, provided they are good looking. However, there is one golden rule of big city livin’ that even I dare not break: The subway vow of silence.

Talking to people on the subway is just creepy. Everyone packed in like sardines during rush hour, your nose wedged in Johnny French Guy’s armpit, it’s just not a good scene. I am party to this twice daily, just before 9 am and shortly after 5 pm. My ride is a lengthy one, spanning a good ten stops and I have developed a series of coping mechanisms: The ipod and oversized sunglasses are a personal favourite. The pole sleeper is another, you know what I’m talking about, the guy standing at the pole with his head bobbing up and down with the rhythm of the train (he’s not seriously sleeping, no one actually sleeps on the subway). Thank god there’s always copies of the Metro lying around aswell. This daily indulgence of celebrity gossip and current affairs is always a good tactic for avoiding eye contact. All in all, the subway commute is a personal time of reflection whose sanctity should not be broken.

This brings me to today. While employing the ipod tactic (sunglasses were left behind at work), I noticed that a gentleman was staring at me with such intensity that it literally made my ears burn. Every once in while he would look down at his knees, and then back up. Since it was well after 5, the rat race home from the office was in full swing and as such my view of what was on his knees was obscured.

Runnymeade station – stare.
High Park station – stare.
Keele, Dundas West, Landsdowne, Dufferin – stare stare stare.

By now I was getting a little antsy. Was this guy an out of towner from Dildo Newfoundland? Did he just not understand subway etiquette?

It was only when the masses vacated the train at Ossington that I realized what he was doing.

Cue the Celine Dion Titanic medley….. The guy was drawing me!

A little taken aback, but slightly intrigued I got up and proceeded to move towards the door as if to prepare for an exit at the next station. I wanted to see this masterpiece, I was intrigued, a little excited. An impromptu portrait, how quaint, how Euro, I had to see it!

Nonchalantly I made my way over and as I passed him, I looked down at his sketch pad.

I can safely say I now know how Tricia felt when Napoleon delivered his work to her as incentive to attend the dance with him…. Maybe he just needs to spend another three hours on the shading on my upper lip.

Lessons learned this weekend:

2005-06-27T22:50:00.000-04:00

(1) There is no gay Santa Claus at the end of the parade.
(2) 1 litre of Rum + 1 digital camera = bye bye career in politics or reality tv.
(3) The batman song is applicable to everything in life.

Finally....

2005-06-21T16:11:00.000-04:00

After centuries of being Europe's bitch, Poland is finally getting an "image makeover".
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/europe/4115164.stm

Makin' mama proud.

2005-06-21T15:22:00.000-04:00

Latvia, myself, and Cat Lady Jess.

crackers with peanut butter and academic withdrawal

2005-06-14T23:12:00.000-04:00

Last Friday I became Olgs B.A.(Hon) and as such, a useful and contributing member to society. My new real life goes as follows:

I wake up at 6:30 am let the molester out for a pee. I then eat bran flakes while watching Breakfast Television before running out to catch the #94 Harbord bus to the subway and then to my respectable 9-5 job. At said job, I do what I am told and pretend to be important when the unwashed masses (read clients) call in asking about mortgages. At 4:58 pm I clean off my desk and join the zombie parade back downtown where I get home just in time to catch the tail end of Dr. Phil. I then heat up whatever frozen meal the President Chose for me, which I consume over Inside Edition or other insightful works of investigative tv journalism.

Wash, rinse, repeat.

I am starting to find Dr. Phil to be the answer to all of life's problems. Announcements on the news like "raging inferno" and "celebrity sex scandal" excite me. The "crazy antics" of the Breakfast TV crew are growing startlingly amusing. I am a 45 year old single mother of one (Chester).

This cannot be life post-academia. I am seriously considering a PhD.

When I start making him wear themed outfits, please get me some help

2005-06-04T17:39:00.000-04:00

In keeping with my crazy dog lady ways, here is your dose of Chester:

He is the new face of American Apparel and is looking forward to pride week.

Daft Punk is Playing At My House

2005-05-22T16:57:00.000-04:00

Cat Lady Jess and I went to see M.I.A. and LCD Soundsystem at the Opera House last night. As I was expecting the show to be hipster central, you can only imagine how shocked I was when the average age of the audience must have been in the late 20s early 30s range. Highlights included: 35 year old riverdancing couple, who felt the need to pay homage to Michael Flatly during LCD’s entire set, and the return of the undercut. I guess the undercut is a natural progression from the non-commital Euro mullet trend, but seriously, there is nothing flattering about it. The show was fun, the beers were cold, and the fashions were sweet (by sweet I mean questionable). My only gripe is that although LCD Soundsystem is, for all intents and purposes, awesome, it’s been done. – anyone remember The New Deal? Take James Murphy’s vocals away and you’ve got The New Deal circa 2001.

Les Photos:

M.I.A. (There is a reason I am not a photographer. The stunning quality of this photo is that reason.)

LCD Soundsystem (Not only do I suck at photography, so does my camera. Although I kind of like this one)

Embarassing Photo of the Cat Lady and Myself. It was so bloody hot in there, we look shiny.

I love Peter Gallagher

2005-05-19T15:35:00.001-04:00

If an election is called after today's budget vote, and should Harper win that election, then I will personally secede from Canada. My apartment at xxx Euclid Ave. Toronto, Ontario, will be an independent territory. Harper will never be my de facto prime minister.

In more important news, The OC season finale tonight means yet another fiesta at 5 Ross. We have created a drinking game to coincide with the drama as it unfolds.

Drink everytime:
Ryan throws a punch
Seth and Summer break up
Kirsten takes a drink
Everytime ANYONE takes a drink from a flask
Peter Gallagher looks hot

Californiaaaaaaaaaa here we come...

Summer in the City

2005-05-11T13:00:00.000-04:00

The week o’ debauchery is coming to an end. Highlights include a lot of sleep and beverages. Saturday night was spent at Luna’s art show where I was chided for being the only singleton left amongst my friends. This begs the question, what role shall I assume in the coming months? Shall I be the sad single one that everyone feels sorry for and tries to set up on horrible blind dates for their own amusement? Or shall I be the slutty friend, that brings a new fling around every few days (rotating apartment door and STD’s included in the slutty friend starter kit). The answer to this will be revealed in the coming days. The star of Luna’s art show, other than Luna herself, was our very own Lavi.

Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday were spent on various patios around the city with two of my favourite people, Cat Lady Jess, and my roommate Chester. Lot’s of sweet fashions were out and about (including leather vest/no shirt man, and the 65 year old man with the Goldfinger hoodie, baggy jeans and wallet chain, you know its time to let go of your youth when…).

The Cat Lady

Chester and Me

Also congrats to Natalia and Timmy on your engagement, although I still don’t believe you.

I love my mom

2005-05-08T13:59:00.000-04:00

But I don't love the gastro-intestinal repercussions of Lucky Dragon sweet and sour veggie chicken at 2 am.

All Done.

2005-05-05T15:42:00.000-04:00

That's it. I wrote my last exam at UofT EVER last night. Left off on human security and systemic stability.

And so begins "real life". Must get myself a job and start working for the man. Become a contributing member to society if you will, part of the establishment, etc. etc. etc.

I can say sh*t in six languages

2005-04-29T05:42:00.000-04:00

I am, as they say, "fucked". For my exams that is. Having handed in all of my papers, I prematurely began reeling from the elation of having that portion of my undergrad career complete. I did however forget to mention that I still have two exams to write.

Upon completion of these exams, I fully commit to one full week of drunken debauchery. I do not want to have any recollection of what took place during this time as it will serve as a spiritual/psychological purge from all things academic. I want to wake up 7 days later with random tattoos/piercings, bottles and cans strewn about my apartment, and with a camera full of photos that will mean nothing to me. Also, I really hope I make some friends of questionable values/hygiene during this time. Basically I want to live one week in the life of Anna Nicole Smith.

Suggestions for activities are welcome.

Hot Dog

2005-04-25T17:19:00.000-04:00

This is right before he peed on the floor.

What I learned at university

2005-04-22T21:44:00.000-04:00

In a few short weeks I will traverse the front campus of the university of toronto donned in academic robe to receive my degree from some old man that I have never met. 4 years and +$30,000 later, I take one thing away from this whole experience: the ability to scam the system.

The culmination of my academic training occured this year when myself and a colleague (who shall remain nameless for their own protection) pulled off the scam of all scams. The scheme of all schemes.

It all started in May of last year when for a book report I was subjected to a piece of historic fiction for a Middle Eastern history class. Seeing as there are over a million students at the UofT, books in the library for lecture classes are a hot commodity, and as such, are placed on "short term loan" in the library. The book for this report was of this category, and thus carried with it a hefty late fine. $0.50 cents per hour. Yes, per hour.

I borrowed the book, took it home, wrote the report, and then I think I saw something shiny and my attention was directed elsewhere. I kept the book for almost a year, at yes, a rate of $0.50 cents per hour. I won't leave you to do the math, but when I checked, my fine at Robarts Library was at $3859.00.

Now clearly I could not pay this fine and was thus left to plot and scheme a way to cheat the system. If you know anything about U of T, you will know that despite its "fine academic reputation", it harbors a reputation for being the pinnacle of bureaucracy. I was stuck with an enormous fine, unable to graduate, and forever indebted to the fortress of knowledge that is Robarts. I knew that paying the fine back was out of the question, I would have to sell an inconsequential organ, or perhaps join catlady in selling A LOT of 0.50 cent handjobs on Jarvis. Either way, if I paid back the fine, they would have to name a wing of the library after me. I had to come up with something, thus the scheme.

I knew that smuggling the book back on the shelf was out of the question. It would set off the alarms when I walked in, alerting the already suspicious librarians that there were doings a-transpiring. Luckily, UofT has a bajillion (yes, a bajillion) libraries that employ mostly foreign students. Thus my partner in crime and I took the book to a smaller unsuspecting library, set off the alarm there, and played dumb when the librarian/exchange student stopped us at the door. Since we set the alarm off going IN, it was clearly the fault of the bolsheviks at Robarts who forgot to demagnatize the work when I left, and the kind hearted helpers at the smaller library were just doing their job and demagnatized the book for me. Step one, success. We were clear for operation olgs' enduring (academic) freedom.

Step two consisted of my partner in crime taking the book and non-chalantly walking back into short term loan and placing the book meticulously back on the shelf. Luckily my partner has years of experience working at a public library (read: they are a nerd) and was familiar with the dewey decimal system. This ensured that any suspicion of the books return would not be raised, as its position on the shelf was clearly the work of someone skilled in library sciences.

Upon the books safe return to its resting place on the HF shelf, I walked in with the best "shocked/stunned" face I could muster. I watched a lot of Meryl Streep movies for inspiration leading up to the whole operation. But there I was, on the verge of tears at the injustice that had been placed on my record for the last year. After a brief "explanation" on my part about why I hadn't realized this error until now ("But I am a student of INTERNATIONAL RELATIONS damn it, I don't NEED these dated resources for my work, everything I need is at my fingertips on the UN website and in the pages of the Economist that arrive on my doorstep") the librarian did what she could only do, check the shelf to see if the book was in fact back in its home as I so vehemently claimed it had been for the last 10 months.

Huzzah! Mission accomplished and $3859 fine was taken off of my account.

In conclusion, I wouldn't be able to tell you the difference between foreign policies, or theories of hegemonic stability. But if you need a con artist, I'm your woman. Thank you U of T, I will now gladly accept my Honours B.S.

Disclaimer:
1. I have nothing against foreign students. Infact, I intend on being a foreign student one day. Not here in Toronto, then I wouldn't be a foreign student now would I, but elsewhere, like in another country. But the truth is, that all of the foreign students work at campus libraries. Call it what you want, but dont blame me. Blame the provincial liberals.

2. Yes my friend worked at a public library for years, but they are not really a nerd. Not any more than me anyways. Whether you think I am a nerd is up to you. Just keep your opinion to yourself. I am sensitive and cry easily

3. If you are reading this and you work for Robarts or the UofT library police then uh.....ha ha, just kidding?

I am in luff

2005-04-17T02:22:00.000-04:00

This is my new roommate Chester. He joins me from the town of Pottageville, Ontario. Despite this fact, he is not a hick. In fact, Chester is a bad ass. He roams the 'hood barking and biting at any animal larger than himself, or any child under the age of 12. He hates fat people. He really does. Especially fat women with pizza in their hands that bend down over him and say stuff like "Look at the poopy woopy shmoopy" in a really high pitched baby voice. He also refuses to walk on sewers or manhole covers. He's a bit of a party animal (as per his tshirt that says "hot dog" with flames on it), but him and I are getting along just great.

Consumer Alert

2005-04-13T01:58:00.000-04:00

The 5 piece Chicken Selects Strips Meal from McDonalds is not worth the extra 2$ over the 3 piece. Sure they give you 5 pieces, but they are smaller, thus the total meat volume of the 5 piece is the same as the 3 piece. I learned the hard way today.

Internet perverts take note

2005-04-12T03:33:00.000-04:00

I have currently taken up residence in the JX section on the second floor of the Munk Centre for International Studies. Any day now Janice Stein is going to start charging me rent. Its coming together, the behemoth of a paper I'm writing, and after much consultation with classmates, former TA's, and random people I stop on the street, my argument holds and my case studies are relevant, proving that I do not have an extra chromosome afterall.

I love movies that start out with "the following is based on a true story". You know its going to be good. Like this movie that just started (at 3:30 am) starring Brooke Shields. I think, and I am basing this on my knowledge of film making trends of the mid 80s to early 90s, that this one involves stalkers, restraining orders, and eventual murder. Cue the soft jazz and saxaphone medley.

Post #2

2005-04-11T01:42:00.000-04:00

I feel the need to post a second post almost immediately after my first post just so this blog doesn't look lame with only one post on it.

I am also posting this because I am procrastinating.

I should be working on my mammoth International Relations Theory paper that was due last week, but alas too much good tv (read: reruns of season 1 CSI and Elimidate). In all honesty, Im in over my head with this paper. It's for a joint 4th year/graduate seminar in IR theory and I took it thinking I was smart enough to do so (I often fall under the illusion of my supposed intelligence). However I spent most of the year with a glazed look in my eye while people debated the merits and applications of liberalism, neorealism, constructivism, and other isms that just all sounded the same to me. I did take one thing away from this class though, low self-esteem. I love putting up my hand to contribute what I think is well thought out point, only to have it received by blank stares and the chirping of crickets.

So yes, I should be writing on the responsibility to protect and its effect on the way we think about sovereignty but some girl just showed her tits out the window of a car and I think that just bought her immunity in the next round of elimidate eliminations.

Seacrest out.

Obligatory First Post

2005-04-11T00:57:00.000-04:00

This is my journal. It is boring. If you are reading this then you are wasting your time. I will tell you why:

#1. I am not interesting. I live in downtown Toronto by myself. I don't even have pets. I am wrapping up an undergraduate degree at the University of Toronto; only days to go and I can call myself a political scientist. I hope to one day get a job at the politics factory.
#2. I am not eloquent or smart. If you are looking for earth shattering literary revelations, you will not find them here. I am going to write here about mundane details of my life which will probably be mildly entertaining to myself and my few close friends, should they even find this blog, but overall, I'm not that bright and really have nothing to offer.
#3. I don't get out much. This is partially because of school, but seeing as that is winding down, this is subject to change. I am also extremely awkward in social situations. This can work in two ways: 1. it can sometimes be entertaining for those in my proximity, 2. it is why i spend most of my friday and saturday nights watching medical dramas and soft core porn on my 5 channel t.v.

So there you have it. A 3 point explanation of why you have just wasted 1.25 minutes of your life reading this.