So Much For My Plans For A Light Lunch

A.

Suddenly I See

I have so many unanswered questions that constantly are bothering me. But one in particular just doesn't make any sense to me whatsoever. I am a perfectly aquatically compatible person. I have completed all my swimming levels, taken life-guarding lessons, I live on a river AND I have a pool. Not to mention that I enjoy hygiene and bathing.

I can swim. Quite well in fact. I'm sure that everyone remembers the first swimming lessons you took in the grimy, over-chlorinated public pool, you and your parent putting your faces under water and blowing bubbles (if you were deprived of this fundamental life experience, now you know). So my point is, for those who can swim, and hopefully for those who can't, most people can go underwater and hold their breath and be perfectly fine.

So then WHY in all logic can you not go underwater in a bathtub? Every single time I make the leap of faith to try again I get water up my nose! I can swim all day long, dive, jump, flip and practically live underwater all summer long in a river, and yet a simple bath manages to confound and render useless all my hard earned skills!

Is it the horizontal position? The temperature of the water? The alluring white porcelain? The bright lights? The lack of swimming articles? This is truly a perplexing element of my life. The only way I can go under the bath water is by blowing out at my nose.

So is there a cure to this bewildering occurrence? Is there a solution out there? If so, I hope I may be still bathing when it comes to be.

Alli.

Good Evening Bobby. Your Worst Nightmare Is On Vacation, So I'll Be Filling In For Him. I'm Mr. Wilkings. I Teach Eighth-Grade Algebra.

So, I am reading the most fantastic book. You may have heard of it, it has somewhat of a reputation. It is, We the living by Ayn Rand. Exquisite! It is about Soviet Russia, and the story revolves around Kira, a young woman living through it.
When I received it, I way not particularly inclined to start it, I thought that it was going to be one of those books that are so eye-opening and educating about the sins of our world ancestors that you just want to curl up and die for being a human. Those books are always lovely of course... but I just am not necessarily in the mood for manic depression and absolute hate of humanity at the moment.
But in fact, it is nothing of the sort! It has a wonderful cynical humor attached to the story and the characters are hard not to fall in love with. And it just provides such an insight into that period in time. I had absolutely no conception of how Communism treated the places it touched. All in all, it is a simply amazing book, and I am encouraging you to read it. If you don't read, get an audio tape or something. It's worth it.

Goodbye dearies,
Your literary critic
Alli

Marriage Is Telling Your Wife She's Pretty Even When She Looks Like A Truck

Sunday is the day of the dawn. I am cooking a informal luncheon for my wonderful friend's birthday. But, technically his birthday was last Monday, so this "informal" luncheon is actually more of a pull-out-all-the-secret-whisks-and-cook-a-damn-spectacular luncheon. Catch my drift? It's not actually that big of a deal, I could probably cook some hot dogs in orange juice and he'd be impressed, but that's not my style. I like to cook with ffflair (note the triple f). So I am now hopscotching between a few menus. Being an extremely ambitious and extremely good looking young woman, I immediately pulled the most extravagant and difficult (very nice pictures though) cook book of the shelf first. Here's what I came up with:

Cep pizza with basil - until I realised that Cep is a mushroom, and I cannot stand mushrooms...

Cockle risotto with flat parsley - looks pretty simple, as I'm almost sure a cockle is just a small clam. But since when is parsley not flat?

Braised leg of rabbit with olives - sounds scrumptious, and (unfortunately) I know someone who raises rabbits and sells them to eat (he names them first though, so when dinners served you can say to your guests "and this here is Romeo, who has generously donated his hide to serve our gluttonous and selfish stomachs.")

Sausage in brioche, with hot potato salad - This is actually looking very promising, my friend is a bit of a carnivorous dinosaur, and the potato salad looks delectable.

Annnnndddd, for the grand finale, a.k.a dessert, I am whipping up a quick Chocolate Soufflé. I did a test run last night, and not to toot my own horn or anything but they were practically perfect! I am so proud. It's like having a child, except much, much better. It was puffy and set and really light and fluffy and tasted like brown heaven. YUMMY. Now lets just hope that tomorrow it'll go just as well. Yikes.

So friends, give me your thoughts on the dishes, also i'm still debating the idea of an appetizer/inbetween dish so feel free to make suggestions.

Alli

I've Been Meaning To Call You

You know when you feel like a sick, slightly bloated whale, and the whole day just seems like a waste of life, and when you get up to call your shoulder to cry on, you remember that you two are fighting, which incidentally, happens to be a large part of why you feel like shit?
That is what outside is like. Wet, humid. Cold. Shit. Creeps through your coat, slithers down into your boots, wiggles through your hair to make you feel as if you had very old, cold, brittle bones. And like you have a fever. Which you don't, but life just needs to give you a friendly kick in the ribs every once and a while.
What I need is a nice long coma. Just get me through all this horrible thinking spring is here, only to have another 10 cm of snow on Friday so the whole goddamn weekend is ruined. Enough with the leaving the outfit-ruining sweater at home only to seriously regret it in a shivering state of hypothermia. Enough with the sickness and the germs and the ugly furry coats. Enough with the cropped uggs and the slush and the shit and the horrible lack of physical exercise.

Enough already.

Please. Let there be actual spring.

A.

FASHION:THEORY•LUDSTRUMPRESS

Shrimpton with hands and hair

Jean with the wild hair

Catherine Deneuve

Shoes and legs

Chelsea Cobbler

Beautiful sculptured braid

Unintitled

Photographs of photographs taken from a magnificent

fashion photography book which was a gift from my mother.

None do their originals justice. I apologize for the flash.

A.

You're A Shining Star, No Matter Who You Are

Okay. First of all, winter is officially the season of depression. Aspect number 1: boots. Smelly, thick, and then they get all brown and compacted on the inside and wet and salty on the outside. And taking off boots just about impossible to make sexy. The whole awkward smile with a side of uncomfortable giggles, while hopping on one foot and tugging with both freezing hands. And with a purse on the arm? FORGET ABOUT IT.
But that's for another rant, today I am here to discuss the problem of the nasty little germs who are just tickled pink by fermenting everything and spreading their disease and awfulness. Sick is gross. And the worst part, dry noses. I can't stand it. It costs you a fortune in little cardboard Kleenex(facial tissue) boxes and then your nose is peeling, rash-like, and feels as is someone was pleasantly rubbing a hot iron against it. I hate it! Humans should be more like dogs, just constantly having nice moist noses. And they would never drip, dogs noses never drip, the amount of wetness is just right. Enough to keep you refreshed while looking healthy and hydrated.
Sick is awful.

A.

Liberate Me

It's a conspiracy. I don't understand how there are always crumbs in my god damn bed. I just washed and ridded them last freaking night. I wake up this morning and there are CRUMBS. I am going insane. There must be some alternate universe where all the socks go and the crumbs come from.

I am drowning in crumbs.
crumbs crumbs crumbs
crumbs crumbs crumbs
crumbs crumbs crumbs
crumbs crumbs crumbs
crumbs crumbs crumbs
crumbs crumbs crumbs

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaalli.

When You Walk, You Walk Like Moses

So we've been tagged! Unfortunately I have no idea to what that incurs exactly. So I'll just be unoriginal and do the same thing as my friend Sarah.
Here's 7 things about me that you don't know about me. (Not that you know a lot about me anyways.)

123. My left pinky is half an inch shorter than my right.

124. I'm extremely claustrophobic. I'm not just trying to be unique by having a phobia, I really can't deal with small spaces. Or people touching me.

125. I change my hair colour at least every two months.

126. Cause of a scar, I have a hole in my right eyebrow.

127. I can't stand it when people speak with incorrect grammar.

128. I believe that if the tree falls in the forest and no one is there to hear it, it still does make a sound.

129. I have an intense dislike for the province of Québec, and its linguistic confrontations.

Love, A.
I'll get my partner in crime to write her did you know soon.

With His Deadline Fast Approaching, Harvey Resorts To The Unconventional

I understand that a truly unacceptable amount of the north-American population is grossly overweight. I also understand the principals of advertising and the massive amounts of money that can be made out of diet and diet-related products. Many are quite alluring and it's easy to be fooled by them. But now I would like to draw attention to the "new" generation of chocolate bars.



Cadbury new Thins. It's their new chocolate creation with only 100 calories! The slogan is: "Some things you regret. Some you don't." You know what I regret? Spending hard earned treat money on this advertising gimmick. Sure it's only a hundred calories, but it's also half the chocolate(18 grams to be exact). But the price didn't change! If you're so intent on getting thin, either eat half the normal chocolate bar or just don't eat any at all!

KitKat also just came out with KitKat Singles. Ooh la la, this one's only got 80 calories. Now come on! This is LESS than 18 grams of food. How exactly is that satisfying?

A.

The Dawn of Pest Control

The ritual bus journey home. To the back seating you can find Egghead, a man of few but wise words. To his left, Mikeala, tomato-red hair, bohemian in her own little way. She's in the circle, but chooses to observe us from the sidelines.

To compare, it's a bit like Washington D.C. The inner circle who disregards the rest. After the last 4 seats you hit the crime ridden, dangerous suburbs. Watch your pockets.

But today, we are not here to entertain you with stories of yellow transport adventures incorporated. But rather, of a few observations. Questionable hair coloring.

As you may observe, subject no.1 has gone for a lovely hue of light brown with added highlights. But wait, before nodding in appreciation, note the fact that her new hair growth is another colour. Blonde. She used a root coloring kit to give the illusion that her "natural" blonde hair was growing in. But, now her actual hair is growing in, giving a lovely triple striped hair effect. Dark Brown, Blonde, Light Brown. Bravo.

Subject no.2 has too many colours to even have to worry about her roots. We counted. Make that eight different shades. Black, Platinum Blonde, Orange, Red, Light Brown, Medium Brown, Dark Brown, Fushia. Eye candy or eye sore? Certainly unconventional.

Aloe.

Marry Me?

Just a thank you note for all the birthday wishes and compliments on the blog.
love is all around us

A.

It's Difficult Being A Dispassionate Observer, But We Must Let Nature Take It's Course

It's Me Birthday. I'll accept cash and personal checks.

A.

You Know You're In French School When -Part 1

Pierre-Luc rests his (ugly, english hating) head on Jean-François' shoulder.

Stéphanie: AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW! C'est tellement cute!
Maya: Awwwwww, j'ai le goût de pleurer!
Stéphanie: AAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWWWW!

Ew.

Aloe.

That'll be 52 cents please

You are so beautiful. I want to make a child. Make a daughter? Make a daughter?


So much for the idea he'll be buying food with that money.

A.