burn after reading

Last Wednesday Jack and Will (neighbour's kids) were upstairs napping when I arrived to care for them for a few hours while their mother was out. I made myself comfortable on the olive green sofa for a few minutes and read a few pages of Catcher in the Rye before noticing I was feeling slightly frigid. I filled the electric kettle with water, picked out an herbal tea bag to plop into a mug and waited for it to boil. I heard the familiar 'click' sound that notifies me there's about 750ml of boiled water ready to meet the mug that would caress it. Seconds later my legs looked like this.



Initially I was planning on tending to this catastrophe myself but then the pain kicked in and it spread to my tummy and left thigh. I was screaming and crying and completely dumbfounded. I had no clue what to do. I called my step dad who said to call 9-1-1. I told him it seemed petty to call 9-1-1 over spilled water. I believe the screaming, crying, and barely distinguishable language coming out of my mouth were hints that yes, i really ought to call 9-1-1. I didn't want to though. I called Chris, the father of the kids sound asleep upstairs at 3:30 in the afternoon. He's a cop. He said, call 9-1-1. Okay, fine, I was convinced. I called 9-1-1. then I called the boyfriend while I waited for the paramedics to arrive because anytime I stopped talking the burning sensation got worse. I talked to him, if that's what you would call it. I cried and pleaded for my nerves to rot and die so I could breathe normally. Who knew freshly boiled water could cause such damage? Apparently a lot of people. Not me, though.

I was in a seated position when I poured the kettle of water into my lap instead of into the mug, my instinct was to stand up and strip. Leggings are tight. Panties are too but...not quite as much. So, my panties went with the leggings and when the paramedics showed up I was standing up in the kitchen crying a pantsless-pantyless cry. I looked like a total asshole. But I didn't care. I only cared about the fleshy gross body part that once looked like a leg and functioned like one too. It was throbbing. My tummy and left leg were mangled only half as badly, if that. The ride to the hospital felt like an eternity. The f word may have escaped my lips a few dozen times in the 20 minutes it took us to arrive.





That flannel covered man is the boyfriend, in case you were wondering why I had an audience.
He came to take care of me. met me at the hospital and stayed over a few days.

I have had three nurses over the last three days come in to change my bandages and now I've been trusted to do them myself, for myself.

here's what the leg looked like on day 3.



Taken with my iPhone so not as clear, but you get the idea. The point is I'm healing. Slowly, but healing nonetheless.

That's all for now.

Take a page from the good book of Steph: when pouring boiling water, make sure it reaches the dish.

miami heat

Nearing the closing days of December I dipped down to Miami for 8 days of vacation fun. I spent most of my time fiddling with my new Canon G12 (courtesy of ma and papa steve a la xmas gift) and walking around solo. But I also went to Ft.Lauderdale to party and act a fool. I visited the design district and a few galleries in Miami, just to keep myself from being lost in the jersey shore wannabe culture. Seriously, everyone down there dresses like a skank ball. Anyhoodle.

The photos almost all speak for themselves so I'll get on with it and add some captions here and there.

part 1 : boardwalk mission


This photo was taken during one of my creepier moments...sure...it's creepy to take photos of children you don't know...but I wanted to save what i thought to be a beautiful memory that a beautiful family had created right on front of me. So really, it's their fault i am so creepy.




that's a stray dog up there. click on the photo to enlarge. poor guy has a gimp leg.
I loved walking that boardwalk, especially when hobos like these were striding ahead of me. I love hobos god dammit.







"Knitta pleeeease"... Knit street art is a movement that was born out of Texas and continues to grow thanks to its founder Magda Sayeg. she has knitted sweaters for all sorts of urban architecture...she's even knitted a city bus! This bike, however, is not a Magda Sayeg original for two obvious reasons. the first being that she wouldn't knit the tires.Magda is a fair and responsible and considerate street artist and thus does not want to obstruct any object's functionality. Secondly, this sweater isn't as intricate as her work. but once I discovered knitta, the shit pops up everywhere. A tree outside of my boyfriend's place on York st in Ottawa is knitted, check ca, check check.



alright, back to the seriousness that was my trip.



Ocean Ave times two.



So I was staying chez Tony and Claire and below is the view from their balcony and as you can see they've got a sweet swimming pool. I didn't swim in it once....but it's a damn swell place to read next to.




money shot..cleavage and shit.



snails. pink snails. you haven't the faintest idea how badly i wanted to be stoned with these ladies. tabarnac.




part two: juvenile fun.

best party back yard, ever.








G and andre





So I promised a certain dude I wouldn't post the naked photos of him from this trip...but to paint a picture: we played a game in the car and he lost so he ended up naked on the side of the road in Ft.Lauderdale. it was awesome and his ass is white as snow.
the end.

Now for more photos.




nekked boys in cars. and such.



completely really ridiculously silly photos

style muse: krystal simpson

thanks to ash dawn, i fell onto her blog "What is reality anyway?" and now look to her for style inspiration.













All photos found at Krystal's blog!

the seat belt sign is on

My eyeballs are burning. They're burning right out of their sockets. Right out of the little cubbies they've called home for over 25 years. The nooks that caress their globe-esque figures. They're burning and this means that I won't sleep tonight. It's 3:30am. I may sleep yet. But with a head buzzing at a frequency too high to settle I will get no rest. And so, I write.

I've got nothing though. Nothing to share. For once I am out of opinions to project onto you and stories to disseminate. I'm basically useless...because let's face it...what am I without my opinions? I'm just a mediocre gal really. Small stature, small voice. So opinions are important to me. They feed my napoleon complex. Sure, I've got one. I'm 4 feet and eleven inches of chipped shoulder and snarly attitude and have something to say about everything. Except at this moment I don't have much to say. But I fear that if I don't write anything down I'll watch the clock turn an evil hour and curse the sleeplessness that has taken over my life.

Last week was an awful week for sleep. The week previous...just as severe.

One of the blogs I follow SemiCrazed focuses primarily on mental illness. I read her posts not because of the grandness of reading material or her regular disciplined writing habits, but because I connect with what she has to say. It matters to me. Recently she expressed on her blog that she'd steered too far from the theme and needed to get back on track. I have felt this way as well. That my blog has taken on a life, a calling, a meaning, of its own...and in a sense that may be a great thing...but if you've got this goal in mind...this goal to not only reach a certain audience but to KEEP that audience...if you've got that as a goal then...you need some focus. Some form. to your blog, book, nose picking rituals...ya know...if you like an audience when you gold dig.

So her recent post has inspired me to create an altogether new blog for fashion alone. Perhaps another blog for film. And another for poetry, prose, literary critique, etc. All linked, of course, to this blog.

I don't know. We'll see. I haven't too much time on my hands lately. And my computer is in the shitter. Not literally, though..would be a little odd if my computer sat on the can and took a shit..what a useless skill that would be.

Back to my point.

Which was...that I haven't any points to express tonight. I'm just being a baby, in bed, sleepless, mind running to and fro and skip skip skip to ma lou.. so on and so forth.

See how ridiculous things are when they make little sense at 3:40 in the EH EM? yeehaw.

I suppose it might be worth noting that...well that I haven't been on my meds since the summer. Winter has been causing a torturous amount of violence in my brain. I've seen dandier days. But I'm doing it all on my own. Using everything I learned from cognitive therapy to get me through the cloak of despair that covers my tiny self every day. and unlike this time last year, I actually see something on the other side... the light or whatever. at the end of the tube. tunnel. slide. clearing. cave. whatever analogy you wanna paint in your cervaux..think of that..and then picture something sweet at the end of it. that's what I see. I can feel that these days pass. They always make a come back...but they also fuck off for a while first. So you know. this is good. This is good, I say... and that's some great self talk right there.

six bows deep

I am steering clear of the emotional posts while I'm in Miami and focusing more on posting looks. I think I'll deal with the seriousness that is myself when I return...but for now I'm in denial.

so. here are a few photos!
I snagged this bow yesterday and I have already worn it two ways as you will see below.











large lace bow: claire's
denim shirt: thrifted
shoes: thrifted
polka dot dress: h&m
jewelry: xxii

wynwood bound

today's outfit is also on my chictopia blog and lookbook.nu

wishing everyone a happy tuesday from vacation spot miami fl!
xo




blouse: thrifted
high waisted jeans: bdg at urban outfitters
penny loafers: thrifted
purse: thrifed

reminds me of the ad

"have you any grey poupon?" or perhaps they say "do you have any grey poupon?" I ought to youtube the damned commercial but I'm feeling rather lethargic at the moment. I leave at 8am tomorrow morning for Miami...home of the Heat, Dexter, and Vice. But even more wonderful is the vintage shopping! Below is today's outfit. All of which is thrifted except for the knee high socks. those were a winners buy!







Sweater- thrifted - value village
Lace up boots - thrifted - value village
jeggings - thrifted - good will store

Hysterics "Mostly Untitled" Music Video

double-headed coin

When does diplomacy take the back seat to humanity? When does one's government stop acting as an international representative of its political position and start being a representative of its citizens and their rights. Seems an obvious answer: Always. But the reality remains a utilitarian ideal. What's best for most, is what's best...period. So when Canadians are stuck in foreign countries where our government assumes diplomatic loyalties our state upholds its vow and respects alien law, even at the expense of one of its own. And for what? Just to "keep the peace?" How juvenile is that?

We've witnessed this regressive and backward practice over and over and over and over and for the love of Allah, Jesus, Moses, and Tom Selleck's moustache, please make it stop. We've seen it with Omar Khadr, we've seen it with Nzzia Quazi...and we continue to see it with 26 year old Nathalie Morin. Ladies and gentlemen the Conservative government has responded in a most delightfully-rightfully-totally useless and inexplicably ignorant fashion, stating "When a Canadian is on foreign soil they must respect foreign law and policy." Whoa whoa whoa. Hey, Tories, mind if ya park the horse for a moment and answer me this: If one of your citizens is mistreated and this treatment is not only acceptable but legal in another country, why don't you get down from that saddle and head for the front lines of the moral battle? When the question of repatriation was raised with regards to Nathalie Morin, the Parliamentary Secretary to the Minister of Foreign Affairs and to the Minister of International Cooperation responded as such: "Mr. Speaker, this is a very complex family dispute with no easy solution."


Alright, ladies and gents, here is what Deepak Obhrai considered to be a "complicated family dispute."

the meat of it:

Nathalie, a Montreal born Canadian, married a man she understood to be a Canadian attending Concordia University, or at the very least an international student with a visa. They had a child together, also Montreal born. When it was discovered her husband was in Canada illegally and thus deported to Saudi Arabia, he insisted she visit him. She did so, twice, and returned safely, twice. After having been persuaded to keep the family together and move to Saudi to be with her husband, Nathalie gave birth to a second child. And it's around this time, folks, that things seem a little bit prickly. It became clear to Nathalie that something had changed inside of her husband. He began to abuse and rape her, and thus, forcing her to bare a third child. It has been five years that she's stuck in Saudi, facing abuse on a daily basis, on constant lock down, and unable to leave the country. Her husband has assumed a house arrest policy over his family, keeping them locked in an apartment 24hours a day, seven days a week, with no plumbing or telephone for the most part. Under Saudi law, wives and their children are not allowed to leave the country without permission from their spouse. Nathalie's husband has been oh so kind to allow her to leave Saudi without her children. Oh, thank you Saeed, how fucking humane of you....you jack ass. But Nathalie refuses to leave her three kids behind with their physically and psychologically abusive father.

I don't care what your colour or creed or political stance, this is NOT a "complicated family dispute." In fact, it's really quite simple. Spousal and child abuse is wrong, whatever country you're in or planet you're on. So tell me, Mr. Secretary of I-don't-give-a-shit-foreign affairs, what's so god damn complex about that? Sure, Saudi has their own idea of human rights. Sure, they're a sovereign nation and thus practice their own laws and policies and so on and so forth. Sure, they don't have to accept our concept of basic human rights. Sure, they're an absolute Monarchy and their constitution is the Q'ran, thus practicing no separation of divinity from state. But, as said over and over, a Canadian is a Canadian is a Canadian. And more so, a human is a human is a human.

But what can be done? And not just for Nathalie, but all people who are subject to unjust treatment and a lack of human rights? Whether in the middle east, Africa, Guantanamo, or right here in the Great White North, what can anyone do about it? The only solution practiced in the past has been war. Jump in and "fix" their government and turn them into a true "democratic" state where women are given the right to vote, travel, and abstain from sexual activity if they so choose. And thus, give children a safe place to call home, since it is not the children who decide where to live. Is there no better way to help Canadians, and all humans, abroad? Okay, Saudi, you may be the largest oil exporter in the world, but since when does that make you invincible? And as for you Stephen Harper, pull your balls out of your stomach because there are more important things in life than money. Aren't we all born from a mother? Aren't we all born somewhere without choice? Nathalie may have chosen to reunite with her husband five years ago, but her three kids didn't. If the only remedy is war, I don't blame the Canadian government for tip toeing around Nathalie's unfortunate circumstance. But I do blame them for not having adequate foreign affairs policies or consular services available to Canadians abroad. I blame them for being too polite.

Mr.Speaker, a human is a human is a human.

style muse: anna karina, head-dresser

anna karina, godard's most prized starlet of the french new wave era of cinema, is not only stunning but also very chic...in the timeless-yet-vintage kind of way.



Straw hats were huge this past summer season, but did they ever really take a spot on the back burner? not in my eyes! I wore my straw hat allllllll summer long.

Always a well dressed head, even sans hat.



Bows bows bows! They're everywhere. If one isn't so inclined to purchase head accessories at the marked-up prices that American Apparel sells them then check out thrift shops. I've had so much luck!Vintage shops also tend to carry them at reasonable prices. I found a navy blue clip-on bow for 6$ and it's made of lace. Sterilize them first though, you don't want soemone else's scalp cooties (ICK!).

And don't forget the chiffon floppy hat as a super chic accessory. These have been coming and going for decades but have made an aggressive come back the last few years.