Some of the things that make me happiest in this world are products of the universe; the force of Mother Nature. I was just outside, walking down King Street. A break in the clouds; the sun came out to play. And a sudden burst of rain came down, all while the sun was still shining away. A lonesome raincloud, precipating down upon us, in the spotlight of the sun, raindrops glistening in the light. Beautiful day. Yay :)
I feel good. Time for some Beres Hammond to set the mood. Nothing like a sweet reggae jam to take happy up a notch.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HDan4GiflkA
xo,
Irie
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
The Boss Of Halloween
I love clothes. Especially of the costume nature. Halloween is my specialty. Was torn between a few ideas this year. My sweetheart suggested the infamous Ike and Tina duo (since I was rather attament about putting together a 'team' costume). His turned out amazing (as if I had any doubt). But he prefers to remain anonymous. So unless you saw us out and about, you'll never get to see the magnitude of my success in throwing together his outfit. But here's mine, black eye courtesy of Ike. Hope you like. :)
Friday, October 30, 2009
Different Shades of Irie
Sunglasses. My favourite accessory. Especially of the vintage variety. I could spend the rest of my life naked as long as I had a different pair of shades for everyday of the [year]/week... and shoes...but that's a whole other ball game. I love color, I love shape, I love size. The more ridiculous the better. The thing I love most about them it that you can express yourself however you choose, and still maintain some level of anonymity. Sometimes they make you feel invisible - altho keep in mind - style of ridiculously and invisibility have are inversely related. I dont mind it that people stop and stare. Flatter me some more. I dare you. Whether or not they approve of my style, jealousy still resides in the fact they wish they could pull it off. Pics to come.
Friday, October 23, 2009
Paranormal Activity: scared shnitzless.
Paranormal activity just killed my life. I am so scared right now. I can't even describe how I feel. Every muscle in my body is tensed. My heart is about to explode. And I can't get this movie out of my head! I keep picturing that bedroom scene. Night after night. I'm so terrified I don't think I can sleep. I'm keeping a demonologist on speed dial. Just in case. If you want to get scared shnitzless, this movie guarantees a paranormal experience. Im so rattled. Maybe what adds to it all, is that I've had the odd luck experiencing such paranormal experiences in my past. So has my mother. I pray its not following me. Makes my skin crawl everytime I think about it. Parallel universes unfolding.
I used to live in a sorority house. It was reported to be haunted. And although I'm not ultimately convinced the spirit was a demon, it was surely intent on voicing itself. Late at night, while all the girls were asleep, you could hear the sound of a woman, humming. This chilling tune was heardwould later be traced back to the dining room. Empty. No one is ever in the dining room. The walls plastered with old composite photos dating back to the early 1900's. One portrait in particular, would leave my spine chilling to this day. I can still picture her face, the sinister look in her eyes; unlike anything I've ever seen. There was something about it that seemed alive. It was more than a photograph. It didnt look like the others. Almost as if it had a 3rd dimension that exceeded that the 2-dimensional plane upon which it resided. Everytime we stepped into that room, you got the feeling she was watching you. I can no longer remember her name. Maybe its for the best. She need not be summoned.
Strange sounds had also reportedly been heard coming from the closet of a bedroom located in the attic. The attic was commonly referred to as the 'Pledge Dorm', starting point of many sorority initiation rituals. I lived there with 2 other girls. During the day it, was the perfect sancutary for playing old school nintendo, beer drinking, chain smoking, and nintendo. Lots of nintendo. Many nights the pledge dorm fell privy to a host after-parties, drugs, random hookups and gossip sessions. The quiets nights, which were rare, were always the most interesting. Handles would turn, doors would slam shut, sounds were heard. There were of course raccoons and squirrels, rats and mice that lived in the house, in the walls, and the ceiling. But often there were familiar sounds. Eerie sounds and shadows that would wake you in the middle of the night and keep you hiding under covers. Accompanied by the shadows and sounds was a feeling. That same feeling you got when entering the dining room. Like someone was there...watching.
It was one day nearing the end of intercession during my 3rd year in university. I was in the house alone. All the girls had gone home for the summer. I had been studying in the attic all afternoon and got up to get myself a snack. I passed into the living room and saw the dreaded composite, staring at me. I got spooked, so I took it off the wall, and placed it on the table, face down. Headed back up to the attic, stopped to use the bathroom on the way. The bathroom was at the top of the stairs, the same stairs that pointed towards the allegedly haunted closet. It always freaks me out to walk up those stairs and look towards the closet. Sometimes it was open, sometimes it was closed. All the while it had been a month since anyone had resided in that room.
Seeing as no one was in the house, I didnt bother to close the bathroom door. I took a seat on the toilet. The door immediately slams shut in front of me. There were no windows open. Not a single one. I got up to open the door. The handle was jammed. I keep trying. The handle started to rotate counter clockwise. The door wouldnt open. Claustrophobic on the verge on a panic attack, I had to get out. I opened the tiny window, punched out the screen and tried to slip out onto the roof. The house was old, the roof- rotting; it wasn't sturdy enough to support my weight. I started screaming. The lights began to flicker. No one was around. My cellphone was in the other room. I was trapped in a nightmare.
About an hour later, I heard a truck pull up the the back of the house. One of my gf's had driven up with her father for the afternoon to move out some remaining furniture. Screaming SOS, they ran up to the attic in attempts to open the door from the outside. No such luck. JAMMED SHUT. Thank god for handy dad's with screw drivers. They had to unhinge and take down the entire door to get me out.
I refrained from sleeping in the house for the remainder of that week. And then I moved out.
I wondered whether the woman from the composite was the same spirit living in the closet, and whether she wandered the house at night. Was it the same spirit heard singing sweet lullabies from the dining room, locking girls in bathrooms who dared to remove her photo from the wall. Maybe she wasn't evil. Maybe she was there to watch over the house. I wonder what her story was, and what she may have been trying to tell me. And then I remind myself that I'd probably rather not know. Sometimes its better not to pry, to instigate or to irritate. Paranormal Activity is a perfect example.
I used to live in a sorority house. It was reported to be haunted. And although I'm not ultimately convinced the spirit was a demon, it was surely intent on voicing itself. Late at night, while all the girls were asleep, you could hear the sound of a woman, humming. This chilling tune was heardwould later be traced back to the dining room. Empty. No one is ever in the dining room. The walls plastered with old composite photos dating back to the early 1900's. One portrait in particular, would leave my spine chilling to this day. I can still picture her face, the sinister look in her eyes; unlike anything I've ever seen. There was something about it that seemed alive. It was more than a photograph. It didnt look like the others. Almost as if it had a 3rd dimension that exceeded that the 2-dimensional plane upon which it resided. Everytime we stepped into that room, you got the feeling she was watching you. I can no longer remember her name. Maybe its for the best. She need not be summoned.
Strange sounds had also reportedly been heard coming from the closet of a bedroom located in the attic. The attic was commonly referred to as the 'Pledge Dorm', starting point of many sorority initiation rituals. I lived there with 2 other girls. During the day it, was the perfect sancutary for playing old school nintendo, beer drinking, chain smoking, and nintendo. Lots of nintendo. Many nights the pledge dorm fell privy to a host after-parties, drugs, random hookups and gossip sessions. The quiets nights, which were rare, were always the most interesting. Handles would turn, doors would slam shut, sounds were heard. There were of course raccoons and squirrels, rats and mice that lived in the house, in the walls, and the ceiling. But often there were familiar sounds. Eerie sounds and shadows that would wake you in the middle of the night and keep you hiding under covers. Accompanied by the shadows and sounds was a feeling. That same feeling you got when entering the dining room. Like someone was there...watching.
It was one day nearing the end of intercession during my 3rd year in university. I was in the house alone. All the girls had gone home for the summer. I had been studying in the attic all afternoon and got up to get myself a snack. I passed into the living room and saw the dreaded composite, staring at me. I got spooked, so I took it off the wall, and placed it on the table, face down. Headed back up to the attic, stopped to use the bathroom on the way. The bathroom was at the top of the stairs, the same stairs that pointed towards the allegedly haunted closet. It always freaks me out to walk up those stairs and look towards the closet. Sometimes it was open, sometimes it was closed. All the while it had been a month since anyone had resided in that room.
Seeing as no one was in the house, I didnt bother to close the bathroom door. I took a seat on the toilet. The door immediately slams shut in front of me. There were no windows open. Not a single one. I got up to open the door. The handle was jammed. I keep trying. The handle started to rotate counter clockwise. The door wouldnt open. Claustrophobic on the verge on a panic attack, I had to get out. I opened the tiny window, punched out the screen and tried to slip out onto the roof. The house was old, the roof- rotting; it wasn't sturdy enough to support my weight. I started screaming. The lights began to flicker. No one was around. My cellphone was in the other room. I was trapped in a nightmare.
About an hour later, I heard a truck pull up the the back of the house. One of my gf's had driven up with her father for the afternoon to move out some remaining furniture. Screaming SOS, they ran up to the attic in attempts to open the door from the outside. No such luck. JAMMED SHUT. Thank god for handy dad's with screw drivers. They had to unhinge and take down the entire door to get me out.
I refrained from sleeping in the house for the remainder of that week. And then I moved out.
I wondered whether the woman from the composite was the same spirit living in the closet, and whether she wandered the house at night. Was it the same spirit heard singing sweet lullabies from the dining room, locking girls in bathrooms who dared to remove her photo from the wall. Maybe she wasn't evil. Maybe she was there to watch over the house. I wonder what her story was, and what she may have been trying to tell me. And then I remind myself that I'd probably rather not know. Sometimes its better not to pry, to instigate or to irritate. Paranormal Activity is a perfect example.
Slaughtered Like Bacon
I love bacon. I've also got some beef with the folks over at www.bacontoday.com . Lying son of a swine... I've got some serious pork to pull.
Back in June 2009, I had contacted Bacon Today with the hopes of becoming their next month's bacon babe. If anyone deserves to wear that crown its me. Not many people can eat as much pig as I do and still look this svelt. SO anyways, I hear back from the guy, Corey, about a month later. Sends me an email saying:
"We'd love to have you as the Bacon Babe of the Month for August. All we need is your ladies t-shirt size and your address and we'll send you a couple shirts from our partner Bacn.com. Then we just ask that you take 20 or so photos in a couple locations so we can pick a few for the site."
Ok. So I send the guy my address. Sounds kind of sketch. But at this point I'm doing cartwheels around the office. My heart is racing. Eat your heart out boys, there's a new bacon babe in town.
Except. Nothing ever transpired. I never heard back from the guy. WTF?!
As if that wasn't disappointing enough. I logged onto the website the other day. And sure enough...they had in fact chosen someone to be the bacon babe for August. A group of 'babes' if you will. The Kansas City Roller Warriors to be more precise. Nothing Bacon Babe'ish about them. More like Bacon Butch. Barf in my Royal Bacon mouth.
Back in June 2009, I had contacted Bacon Today with the hopes of becoming their next month's bacon babe. If anyone deserves to wear that crown its me. Not many people can eat as much pig as I do and still look this svelt. SO anyways, I hear back from the guy, Corey, about a month later. Sends me an email saying:
"We'd love to have you as the Bacon Babe of the Month for August. All we need is your ladies t-shirt size and your address and we'll send you a couple shirts from our partner Bacn.com. Then we just ask that you take 20 or so photos in a couple locations so we can pick a few for the site."
Ok. So I send the guy my address. Sounds kind of sketch. But at this point I'm doing cartwheels around the office. My heart is racing. Eat your heart out boys, there's a new bacon babe in town.
Except. Nothing ever transpired. I never heard back from the guy. WTF?!
As if that wasn't disappointing enough. I logged onto the website the other day. And sure enough...they had in fact chosen someone to be the bacon babe for August. A group of 'babes' if you will. The Kansas City Roller Warriors to be more precise. Nothing Bacon Babe'ish about them. More like Bacon Butch. Barf in my Royal Bacon mouth.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Le Stache
I'm know I'm not alone when I say this: The moustache is goddamn sexy. Facial hair on a man takes me where the wild things are.
I'm interested in knowing the SECRET to growing a perfect stache. It's got to be done right, some guys just can't pull it off. And if you should so find yourself in that category, time to face the music, but you'll never be the man for me.
How do you pick your stache style? So many choices. Only one upper lip. Suppose a good place to start is in assessing your facial bone structure. Some staches have a blunting affect against sharp facial features, while others serve as decorum on an otherwise bland, boring face.
It is meant to be inviting? Or intimidating? Maybe a bit of both. It takes a strong woman to hangle a man with a stache. Not for the sensitive kind. So rugged. Yet so refined. And dirty. Staches are soo dirty. Think about all the things that get lost in there: crumbs, crabs, drugs, boogers, beer... the possibilities are endless, really. You can comb them, trim them, dye them, ride them.
Notorious staches include: Jesus, Josh Chamberlain, Charles Manson, Rollie Fingers, Errol Flynn, Adolf Hitler, Snoop Dog, Ron Burgendy, Steve Prefontaine.
Related links worth checking out:
'Mustache rides: After 30 Years, Still 5 Cents'
For History, Interviews and help selecting your style, visit the American Mustache Institute:
So Green It Hurts
"Seed your city to feed your city". Brilliant. Brilliant. Brilliant.
Last night I had the privilege of attending the "Seed Your City Charity Fundraiser". I randomly bumped into an old friend in Yorkville. Let's call him Ginger. He was lost (as per usual), en route to "some venue for some event" and asked if I would accompany him to the party. Alright. I'm rarely known to turn down a party. It always gets interesting when Ginger's involved. We end up at Spice Room. Haven't been by in ages. Last I ventured into Hazelton I was passing through for a drink with another degenerate friend of mine, let's call him Thai. Thai had been wearing the same pair of snowpants for about a week at this point. Snowpants and white cowboy boots. It hadn't snowed in about a week. He's generally too fucked up to notice these things. Anyways, this Spice Room affair was entirely different, but equally as interesting. Interesting and INSPIRATIONAL. Let me break it down.
SEED YOUR CITY:
"is a nation wide initiative, which promotes the development of horticultural growing systems on school parks, building rooftops and city green spaces"...
“By using the world’s most advanced and [absorbent green rooftop technologies]...we have the key to making our building roofs into productive food sources, clean air filters and edible landscapes.”
- Zell Artan & Matthew Krist, co-founders.
The event brought together corporation heads, government officials, and members of the community in support of this green initiative; and featured delicious vegetarian dishes prepared with organic heirloom vegetables harvested from Artan Gardens.
Members of 'The Spa Suite' were also on-site, demonstrating home-made beauty recipes in-line with maintaining an eco-conscious lifestyle. You can visit them online at www.thespasuite.ca for recipe updates and further eco-inspiration.
For more information on the 'Seed You City' urban agriculture program, visit www.seedyourcity.org
You can also follow them on twitter @seedyourcity for tips on how to plant your own rooftop garden!
Side note: Although I have only had the pleasure of [briefly] meeting Zell on one occasion prior to last night's event, it goes without saying that I am honoured to have made her acquaintance. I'm sure anyone who knows her would agree. Her positive energy and benevolent disposition are truly admirable. I wish her her partner- and anyone pursuing anykind of green effort for that matter- all the best in their future endeavours.
Going green is the secret to keepin' it real.
Last night I had the privilege of attending the "Seed Your City Charity Fundraiser". I randomly bumped into an old friend in Yorkville. Let's call him Ginger. He was lost (as per usual), en route to "some venue for some event" and asked if I would accompany him to the party. Alright. I'm rarely known to turn down a party. It always gets interesting when Ginger's involved. We end up at Spice Room. Haven't been by in ages. Last I ventured into Hazelton I was passing through for a drink with another degenerate friend of mine, let's call him Thai. Thai had been wearing the same pair of snowpants for about a week at this point. Snowpants and white cowboy boots. It hadn't snowed in about a week. He's generally too fucked up to notice these things. Anyways, this Spice Room affair was entirely different, but equally as interesting. Interesting and INSPIRATIONAL. Let me break it down.
SEED YOUR CITY:
"is a nation wide initiative, which promotes the development of horticultural growing systems on school parks, building rooftops and city green spaces"...
“By using the world’s most advanced and [absorbent green rooftop technologies]...we have the key to making our building roofs into productive food sources, clean air filters and edible landscapes.”
- Zell Artan & Matthew Krist, co-founders.
The event brought together corporation heads, government officials, and members of the community in support of this green initiative; and featured delicious vegetarian dishes prepared with organic heirloom vegetables harvested from Artan Gardens.
Members of 'The Spa Suite' were also on-site, demonstrating home-made beauty recipes in-line with maintaining an eco-conscious lifestyle. You can visit them online at www.thespasuite.ca for recipe updates and further eco-inspiration.
For more information on the 'Seed You City' urban agriculture program, visit www.seedyourcity.org
You can also follow them on twitter @seedyourcity for tips on how to plant your own rooftop garden!
Side note: Although I have only had the pleasure of [briefly] meeting Zell on one occasion prior to last night's event, it goes without saying that I am honoured to have made her acquaintance. I'm sure anyone who knows her would agree. Her positive energy and benevolent disposition are truly admirable. I wish her her partner- and anyone pursuing anykind of green effort for that matter- all the best in their future endeavours.
Going green is the secret to keepin' it real.
My obsession with leather...
I've been looking for a pair of chaps. Not just any chaps, the perfect pair. I'm OCD when it comes to my tastes, and unwilling to compromise even the smallest detail of my ideals. Black. Leather. Fringe. Is that too much to ask? And why is it that my size is so hard to come by. Mini's ride motorcycles (and horses) too!Children's chaps are fairly easy to come by. How does that make any sense? You'd rather throw a child on the back of a bike that a hot little babe? pfftt. what the shnitz. May have look into getting a custom pair. And so the search continues... I'm restless without them. Hot, sexy, stick-to-my-skin-the-in-the-blistering-heat-need-someone-to-peel-them-off-me- leather chaps.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
That's my shnitz
On occasion, I see girls pass me in the street, strutting their shnitz, half ass nonna buns high atop their heads. And these girls have the audacity to give ME grilling looks, as if I'm the one biting their style. Puh-lease. You saw it on America's next top model, and now you're trying to be cool. Or trying to be me. I'm flattered. Really.
Why is it that I so often find myself in battle with the 'be-cool's' of society.
Dont think I didnt notice you checking my nonna bun out. Trying to see how I get it so high, sleek and perfectly coiled... Sans hair product might I add. Dont think that as the weeks progress, I haven't noticed your low, loose, mess of a bun gradually becoming tighter, rising to the top. You're not at the top, you're at the bottom... of the nonna pole. I think your bun might be too tight, loosing circulation to the brain. Quit while you're ahead. Go buy yourself a Bump'It. Oh ya, I said it. Bump this.
Its as much a part of me as Uncle Jesse's mullet, the parachute pants
branded by Hammer and the DD's (EE's? FF's??) on Dolly.
Ladies. Lets get one thing straight: I OWN that look. Tinkerbell sold it to me in the 80's.
If you have a problem with it. Take it up with Peter Pan, cause I'm not interested.
Time to Remember
There's purpose behind everything. Or at least there should be. Otherwise what's the point.
The purpose of this blog is mainly to remember.
My memory is not a kind servant. But many times I am not a kind master.
Time to step it up. Time to start blogging. Time to remember.
I'd like to thank my dear friend Miss Casie Stewart for encouraging me to abandon my disdain for social media and start writing a blog. She's amazing. Her blog is amazing. www.casiestewart.com
I'm taking a page out of her book, so to speak... a post from her page. I'd also like to take a moment to congratulate Casie on her new social media job with MTV & MuchMusic. She's a Taurus. So am I. Love that. :)
The purpose of this blog is mainly to remember.
My memory is not a kind servant. But many times I am not a kind master.
Time to step it up. Time to start blogging. Time to remember.
I'd like to thank my dear friend Miss Casie Stewart for encouraging me to abandon my disdain for social media and start writing a blog. She's amazing. Her blog is amazing. www.casiestewart.com
I'm taking a page out of her book, so to speak... a post from her page. I'd also like to take a moment to congratulate Casie on her new social media job with MTV & MuchMusic. She's a Taurus. So am I. Love that. :)
THIS IS IT
and no. i don't mean michael jackson.
get ready world.
its time for 'the shnitz show' to begin.....
get ready world.
its time for 'the shnitz show' to begin.....
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