Monday, December 05, 2005

Calgary air sucks (and I'm lazy)

Okay, so I suck and I'm irresponsible. I've been kind of busy with work lately, the government fell and there will be an election in January (and I'm not even sure if I'm registered to vote in my constituency and the government isn't being very helpful at telling me), and, well, I'm lazy. So very, very lazy.

But it's December, and Calgary has kicked out from a mild, crisp, beautiful fall into a hellish, driving snow, wasteland of cold. I went out this morning and the snow felt like I was being bombarded by thumbtacks. Dry snow hurts like a bitch.

But I had to go out, because now that I'm experiencing my first real prairie winter, I needed some George's Cream. It's this really heavy cream developed for people with problem skin who live in Calgary, and while I just started using it this morning (with gloves overtop because this stuff is the greasiest product I have ever put on my hands- and I've used Aquaphor) it's already made my hands look much better, especially the spaces between my fingers where my rings rub against the skin.

I used to use Aroma Crystal Therapy Gardener's Dream Cream but the scent was overwhelming, and it honestly isn't as good as this new stuff. But I suppose it would work if you don't live in a semi-desert.

However, it's still not as cold as Toronto because there is no great lake to get a breeze off of, so Calgary wins there.

In other moisterizing news, I am enamoured with Vaseline Renew and Protect lotion. It's like a less harsh AHA lotion and it even has a mild sunscreen in it (it's SPF 6 or something ridiculous like that, but it's better than nothing). I'm pretty religious about moisterizing, but my skin has never really felt this soft. After about five days, I could really tell it was working, and I'm really pleased with it. I don't mind splurging on face products, but I can't justify spending upwards of $60 on half a litre of body lotion, especially not the way I go through it.

As for the hair, I bought two of those huge bottles of Thermasilk at Costco the other day. I like the way it makes my hair feel as I blowdry, but am I the only person who gets a distinctive whiff of marijuana from the shampoo? The first time I used it, I thought it was just because I had been at a concert before using it, but I smell it every time now. It's not the strongest scent in the shampoo, and assuming that no one can smell it on my hair afterwards, I'm not going to complain, but it's still off-putting. The conditioner doesn't seem to have the same problem.

At least through this shampoo, I've discovered that my boyfriend really likes women who wear perfume in their hair rather than on their body. Who knew?

Friday, November 11, 2005

Lest we forget

Wednesday, November 09, 2005

Laura Bush is scary

I spent the evening watching an utterly bizarre dinner party on CPAC. I am the only woman in the world cursed with a man who would rather watch politicians purposely make asses of themselves rather than watch the hockey game. But... it was worth it, I guess. Who knew Stephen Harper could do such great impressions? I guess his complete lack of personality makes it easy for him to absorbs others' life forces.

The Press Gallery Dinner did, however, remind me about something I've been meaning to post about for the last few days. Laura Bush's crazy face. Seriously. When Prince Charles is the better looking one in the photo, it's a bad, bad thing. Camilla must feel like Catherine Zeta-Jones right now (as a side note: I think there's nothing wrong with Camilla. She's simply one of those people like Meryl Streep who looks better as she ages). I don't know what it is, and I don't want to cry face lift, but, seriously. She looks like she's going to crawl through my television screen and... do whatever it is that kid in The Ring did because I never saw that movie.

I want my mommy.

Sunday, October 30, 2005

Stella McCartney

So does anyone else hate H&M right now? This is the most infuriating and awful flash site I've come across in awhile. It's irritating me.

I'm not very taken by the collection either. It's very eighties, and reminds me of the pain and suffering that was elementary school. The skinny jeans would never be a friend of mine, and the zippered hems remind me of when my older brother got his first after school job selling crappy jeans at Thrifties. I have seen a terrifying satin onesie (also: no. Thre are two articles of clothing that are allowed to be one piece: dresses and swimsuits. Nothing else.), and an embroidered sweater that I'm pretty sure my great aunt Josie gave me when I was seven. Some of the coats and sweaters for this collection are kind of cute, but their cuteness is in the fact that they epitomize generica.

I've never been much of a Stella McCartney fan, and considering that I could get nicer clothes for a comparable price at Tristan I don't see the bother.

Also, there is one H&M in Canada. It's in Toronto. So, you know, effort and all.

Wednesday, October 19, 2005

Baby did a bad bad thing

I, uh, I did some bad, bad things today. Or at least bad bad things when you consider that I am in no way the primary breadwinner of this household.

I guess it's a good thing I don't live alone. Because if given the choice between groceries and shoes and/or books, I would cheerfully subsist on ramen while admiring my feet/prose. It's just a tic.

Anyway. Today I took a trip to the utterly sublime Gravity Pope. I try not to go to Gravity Pope too often, because it is the siren song of shoe shops. Full of fun, funky, hard to find (in Canada, at least) shoes that are all exorbitantly priced for someone who still has student loan debts.

But I went. And I commited credit card sin. But, like most sin, it was so damn good.

Kowalski boots ($355 CND). They are... they are sublime. I have several skirts that will showcase them to their finest. I'm a little nervous about wearing them on ice, but I don't care too much. These are date boots, I will always have an arm to cling to.

Mosquito boots in lime ($355 CND). They are green! And they make me think of the Beatles! And they!!! Uh... I can't justify this. In any way at all. But I have at least two weeks until the credit card bill arrives. Then I will have to explain.

Camper "twin" ($167.99 sale price CND). They were on sale. And I've been eyeing them for quite awhile. They were actually the reason I ventured it. And escaped almost a month's worth of mortgage poorer.

But it's not like I spent both mortgage and condo fees. Right?

Thursday, October 06, 2005

The problem with working from home, living in a new city, and being too lazy to join any social groups (I think they need Brownies for adults. I never had problems making friends when I was a kid, but now the only time I ever come in contact with another adult female human being, we're usually both naked in the locker room of the YMCA. Awkward.) is that I have to rely on my boyfriend to make friends, and then introduce me to their mates. Most of the people I've met in the past few months have been perfectly nice, mostly engineers who just smile in a dazed sort of way when I explain my line of work, but they're nice.

Yesterday, my boyfriend brought home Thai food, one of the management people, and his girlfriend. The woman was probably my age (24) or a little younger, and we were standing in the kitchen trying to think of things we had in common (Canadian Idol and The O.C. Mock me if you must.). I was standing there with an aluminum carton of pad thai in my hand when she suddenly says "feel my breast."

"Pardon?"

"Feel my breast. It's not weird."

It was, but for some reason I still reached out and poked her rock hard breast.

"----- paid for it," she informed me. We stood there staring at each other for a few seconds, having lived in a somewhat crappy part of Toronto for so many years, I don't think I've even seen a breast implant in person before. "I'm also getting botox," she added manner-of-factly. "It's a preventative measure."

And then she went back to unpacking the food like nothing had happened.

I can't quite figure out what the point of that exchange was. Was she implying that my B-cups and moving face were somehow an atrocity? Or is it like when you spend far too much money on a handbag or pair of shoes that are so understated no one appreciates how expensive and understated they really are, and it starts to irritate you that no one gets how awe-inspiring your taste is.

It was weird.

Saturday, October 01, 2005

Still here but living in the past

So I'm not dead. Six (seven?) months after the move, I've finally finished the unpacking. It wasn't anything too major we had left, but we have a little storage cubicle in the basement, and we just shoved our boxes in there and forgot about them. Work has been a little slow lately, so I've been downstairs digging through the boxes and figuring out what to toss and to keep (I also found a box completely filled with booze, and both my boyfriend and I are kind of amazed at what lushes we must have looked like to the moving company). Midway through the clean up, I came across a few boxes of my old college possessions, which I hadn't unpacked from when I graduated from university and moved into my apartment in Toronto. So I've spent the last few weeks shifting through old clothes (mostly zip up cable knit cardigans and jeans, but I've found some old home made message T-shirts that I accused my mother of throwing out my senior spring break. Colour me embarrassed) posters from my dorm room (later crappy off-campus apartment with silverfish in the bathtub), thrift store/relative gifted cooking utensils, and- be still my heart- books. I've been reading books that I didn't even bother to read when, you know, my midterm grade rested solely on them. I never sold my books back because they paid a pittance for them, so even if I hated the class, I kept them out of spite.

This entry has nothing to do with fashion. So here's a link to Frilly Lizard. It's not nearly as exciting as the store is, but it'll do. And if you're ever in the Golden Horseshoe area, it's worth the drive.

I'm going to go read 'Oedipus Rex' now. For the first time.