I am already 1/3rd of the way through my self-imposed 30 day yoga challenge. It has been phenomenal. I had my friend Claire coming with me this past week almost everyday, so it has been dead easy to get to classes. It was her first time at the studio, so she had a week unlimited pass - alas, now that it's up, she can't afford the, admittedly pricey, studio fee for an unlimited pass, so she will be coming only once a week or so.
I must say though, she has started a dangerous, yet charming and irresistibly bourgeois, habit in me. Because Claire, rather obnoxiously, decided to go out and get a real job after university, she found it easiest for her to go to the 7 am classes and then head to work afterwards. My flexible student's schedule couldn't deny her this.So I have been getting my butt out of bed at 6:00 am, grabbing a bit of breakfast (a careful balancing act, eating enough to keep from passing out, but not so much that you are even mildly aware of it while in Floor Bow Pose, lest I vomit on my mat). I find it really satisfying actually, to be up that early - it leaves me able to blog in the morning before I head to the library, almost entirely guilt free. Anyhow, after yoga, we adopted the habit of stopping in at an amazing little European food shop, with fabulous cheeses, deli meats, condiments aplenty, all varieties of chocolate, as well as an amazing food counter; it was at the last the we would grab small capuccinos and croissants. We would walk them over to my apartment, polish them off, and head towards campus together.
So, basically, every morning that I do yoga, I also drink a full fat cappuccino and have a fabulously buttery croissant. So much for fitness and will power.
On a healthier note, I plan on making Giada De Laurentiis' Pasta Ponza as part of Chopper and I's long delayed culinary throw down. WEll, we are both back at it, and as it gets nicer out and I begin craving more fruits and veggies to fuel my increasingly active body, I thought that this light and simple pasta dish would be a good try. I have only had it in cold leftover form before, but the flavours are so simple, I can't imagine how you could go wrong. I hope that Chopper enjoys it - he really needs some extra TLC these days; vicious haters are trying to get him down. I am sure he will persevere though - the man is of hearty, albeit vegetarian, stock.
Wish I was going to the King's Athletic Awards "Banquet" tomorrow night instead of McGill's Athletics Gala tonight...
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Monday, March 28, 2011
Too Big to Blog?
Today anyone plugged into the fashion blog scene (I utterly refute and refuse the term "blogosphere") has probably asked themselves this question, or some variant today: can someone be too big for a fashion blog?
So, we all instinctively want to say "No! Fashion should be for anyone who wants to adapt it creatively for whatever their body type," but Scott Schumann has left me in doubt.
On the fashion blog par excellence, the Sartorialist, Schumann featured Angelika, a blogger out of Milan, rocking some seriously bad ass shoes. Unfortunately, Schumann offered a brief write up about the young lady, something he does not always or often do, saying " I loved that she's a bigger, curvier girl than most of the other bloggers who you see in the the press and tend to represent the genre," and admiring "the sturdy but beautiful shape of her legs."
So, as you can imagine, the Sartorialist has been inundated with offended and outraged comments. I am very much in sympathy with them. This girl is certainly larger than the average waif featured on the website, and, let's be honest, body affirmation is not why anyone goes to the site, but she is not big and she is not curvy. I must admit, I am wholeheartedly tired of the wordy "curvy." It is a euphemism for fat - let's just put it out there. Unless you are Kim Kardashian or Christina Hendrix, by "curvy" you probably mean "plump." And I'm not hating on that either. I think most of us are a bit plump and that is fine. But stop throwing around "curvy." That said, I prefer "curvy" to "sturdy." As one comment reads, let's not use the word "sturdy" to define anything other than antique mahogany furniture, shall we?
But, as I spiral deeper and deeper into the world of blogs - friends', fashion and food are, no joke (but alliteration is always a joke), my favourites - I think that Schumann is making a point that is being missed amongst all the outrage. This girl is big for a fashion blogger (though there obviously has to be a distinction made between a fashion blogger who uses self-as-subject, which this girl does not appear to be doing). I am following four fashion blogs, Sartorialist aside, that feature teeny tiny girls. My friend Kathy told me recently that she wisely culled any of these sorts of blogs that have been functioning as thinspos (such a terribly depressing bit of eating disorder terminology for you - thin-inspirations). But, what can I say, I really do appreciate the fashion! And, alas, I am yet to encounter a fashion blog that features a girl who is more similar to my body shape (which, if you're curious, I would classify as athletically pear-shaped. Not. Curvy.).
I do follow one blog, Hey Good Lookin', which features the lovely Evey, who I know personally, and does not strike me as a size 2 (though I will admit I am completely ignorant to what her actual dress size is). Immediately upon writing this, however, I feel the need to apologize to Evey; "Evey, sorry man, I don't mean you're fat!" This is exactly the problem.
Sigh.
It is no secret, given my penchant for fitness and continually trying to drag my diet together that I have some body aims of my own, so I would never go on a truly hypocritical rant about loving your body the way it is (in fact, I will very likely in the future go on a rant against that particular breed of rant). But can we dress our bodies fashionably the way they are?
Yes please.
If anyone knows any fabulous fashion blogs that I must check out, particularly ones of the "body inclusive" or "body harmony" varieties, please share.
So, we all instinctively want to say "No! Fashion should be for anyone who wants to adapt it creatively for whatever their body type," but Scott Schumann has left me in doubt.
On the fashion blog par excellence, the Sartorialist, Schumann featured Angelika, a blogger out of Milan, rocking some seriously bad ass shoes. Unfortunately, Schumann offered a brief write up about the young lady, something he does not always or often do, saying " I loved that she's a bigger, curvier girl than most of the other bloggers who you see in the the press and tend to represent the genre," and admiring "the sturdy but beautiful shape of her legs."
So, as you can imagine, the Sartorialist has been inundated with offended and outraged comments. I am very much in sympathy with them. This girl is certainly larger than the average waif featured on the website, and, let's be honest, body affirmation is not why anyone goes to the site, but she is not big and she is not curvy. I must admit, I am wholeheartedly tired of the wordy "curvy." It is a euphemism for fat - let's just put it out there. Unless you are Kim Kardashian or Christina Hendrix, by "curvy" you probably mean "plump." And I'm not hating on that either. I think most of us are a bit plump and that is fine. But stop throwing around "curvy." That said, I prefer "curvy" to "sturdy." As one comment reads, let's not use the word "sturdy" to define anything other than antique mahogany furniture, shall we?
But, as I spiral deeper and deeper into the world of blogs - friends', fashion and food are, no joke (but alliteration is always a joke), my favourites - I think that Schumann is making a point that is being missed amongst all the outrage. This girl is big for a fashion blogger (though there obviously has to be a distinction made between a fashion blogger who uses self-as-subject, which this girl does not appear to be doing). I am following four fashion blogs, Sartorialist aside, that feature teeny tiny girls. My friend Kathy told me recently that she wisely culled any of these sorts of blogs that have been functioning as thinspos (such a terribly depressing bit of eating disorder terminology for you - thin-inspirations). But, what can I say, I really do appreciate the fashion! And, alas, I am yet to encounter a fashion blog that features a girl who is more similar to my body shape (which, if you're curious, I would classify as athletically pear-shaped. Not. Curvy.).
I do follow one blog, Hey Good Lookin', which features the lovely Evey, who I know personally, and does not strike me as a size 2 (though I will admit I am completely ignorant to what her actual dress size is). Immediately upon writing this, however, I feel the need to apologize to Evey; "Evey, sorry man, I don't mean you're fat!" This is exactly the problem.
Sigh.
It is no secret, given my penchant for fitness and continually trying to drag my diet together that I have some body aims of my own, so I would never go on a truly hypocritical rant about loving your body the way it is (in fact, I will very likely in the future go on a rant against that particular breed of rant). But can we dress our bodies fashionably the way they are?
Yes please.
If anyone knows any fabulous fashion blogs that I must check out, particularly ones of the "body inclusive" or "body harmony" varieties, please share.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Let's Get this Fitness Train a' Runnin'
Do trains run? No, they roll, but "rolling" and "fitness" just don't seem like complimentary images: I'm working out to avoid becoming a shape for which the easiest movement is rolling! [Read: sphere]
So I had my first spinning date with Yule. I have been very resistant to spinning ever since I saw an episode of Gilmore Girls where they find themselves appallingly the guests of a mother-daughter duo who insist on morning spin classes. Lorelai and Rory escape before they can be indoctrinated. Much hilarity and paranoia regarding the utter lameness of spinning ensue. This initial and, granted, irrational fear of spinning was soon overcome to the point that I sat on a spin bike. Then my reasons for not spinning became slightly better grounded. Spin bikes were designed by either a) individuals with a poor grasp of human anatomy or b) sexual sadists. Call Christopher Meloni and Mariska Hargitay!
But. But. I have heard they will make my legs sexy, and after my embarrassing appearance on the rugby pitch in Truro, I figured I could use a new challenge to keep me motivated at the gym.
So, Yule and I are now doing 3 gym dates a week! Spinning and weights included.
In addition to this, I have taken it upon myself to commit myself to a 30-day yoga challenge. I had been wanting to do a 30 day challenge all semester, and was just waiting for the studio to announce when it would be. Well they just announced: April 15-March14. I plan on being in California as of March 6th, and a yoga challenge isn't really a good enough reason to delay my departure. Rather than sacrifice the challenge, however, I am just going to go ahead and do it myself. Today is day 3/30. My goal is to make it consecutive this time around!
So, to recap, I am now doing a 30 Day Yoga Challenge, Gym date 3 days a week, and, with any luck, outdoor runs on the weekend with my baby bro.
Bring it on summer!
So I had my first spinning date with Yule. I have been very resistant to spinning ever since I saw an episode of Gilmore Girls where they find themselves appallingly the guests of a mother-daughter duo who insist on morning spin classes. Lorelai and Rory escape before they can be indoctrinated. Much hilarity and paranoia regarding the utter lameness of spinning ensue. This initial and, granted, irrational fear of spinning was soon overcome to the point that I sat on a spin bike. Then my reasons for not spinning became slightly better grounded. Spin bikes were designed by either a) individuals with a poor grasp of human anatomy or b) sexual sadists. Call Christopher Meloni and Mariska Hargitay!
But. But. I have heard they will make my legs sexy, and after my embarrassing appearance on the rugby pitch in Truro, I figured I could use a new challenge to keep me motivated at the gym.
So, Yule and I are now doing 3 gym dates a week! Spinning and weights included.
In addition to this, I have taken it upon myself to commit myself to a 30-day yoga challenge. I had been wanting to do a 30 day challenge all semester, and was just waiting for the studio to announce when it would be. Well they just announced: April 15-March14. I plan on being in California as of March 6th, and a yoga challenge isn't really a good enough reason to delay my departure. Rather than sacrifice the challenge, however, I am just going to go ahead and do it myself. Today is day 3/30. My goal is to make it consecutive this time around!
So, to recap, I am now doing a 30 Day Yoga Challenge, Gym date 3 days a week, and, with any luck, outdoor runs on the weekend with my baby bro.
Bring it on summer!
Monday, March 21, 2011
I jynxed it...
Good thing all I have to do today is curl up with Salk Viertel's amazing autobiography. I need to read 250 pages of it today, or else I'm utterly screwed, but it is still a pretty pleasant task.
I miss my cat, who is still in exile at my brother's apartment until my landlord fixes my bathroom ceiling, which collapsed, if I didn't mention it, while Kathy was visiting, courtesy of a leak. While I was in Halifax, She Ra at Cameron's, they came in and fixed the leak from my upstairs neighbour's bathroom, and had just been waiting for the plaster to dry before patching up my ceiling.
Water, of course, started coming through again today. At least 2 more weeks until I am reunited with my one true, albeit fickle, love.
Sigh. Come on, Spring.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
New Years Resolutions Realized by March...
I went for my first outdoor run of 2011 yesterday!
It lasted 10 minutes.
Should that not be shameful enough, I confess I wasn't even running the whole 10 minutes. Probably only 7, maybe 8. Oh dear...
Anyhow, I was thinking "gotta hop and the blog and brag about this feat!" when I remembered "oh yeah...that was a New Years resolution...I was going to track how I did with those...er..."
So, with comic "er..." in mind, let's revisit those resolutions of months past...
1. Make Yoga a Priority. I haven't been terrible on this front, but the last month of travel, and now some lingering rugby/bar injuries have kept me away. I still have been going through periodic bursts. Gotta work it reasonably into my schedule I guess...
2. You will be a Runner. I ran for an additional 2 minutes this morning from yesterday's run, and I think I can probably stick to this one. And, after being hit on "by the wrong roommate" my brother is also somewhat resolved to get back in shape. So hopefully I will have a running partner soon.
3. Exercise Some Will Power. Um. Well desert is still pretty constant in my life BUT desert has taken the form of Liberte Citron yogourt, individual size bags of Kettle Corn, and Light Hot Chocolate (brilliant suggestion from Yule).
Ok, so things aren't looking to dour. Added to these resolutions were: read more magazines; grow out your hair; no alcohol until you finish a draft of your thesis. All of those have gone marvelously.
Maybe, just maybe, I will be a grown up soon.
But as Tommy Whelan knows, I withhold that distinctions for individuals who can neatly and quickly chop vegetables and crack an egg with one hand.
It lasted 10 minutes.
Should that not be shameful enough, I confess I wasn't even running the whole 10 minutes. Probably only 7, maybe 8. Oh dear...
Anyhow, I was thinking "gotta hop and the blog and brag about this feat!" when I remembered "oh yeah...that was a New Years resolution...I was going to track how I did with those...er..."
So, with comic "er..." in mind, let's revisit those resolutions of months past...
1. Make Yoga a Priority. I haven't been terrible on this front, but the last month of travel, and now some lingering rugby/bar injuries have kept me away. I still have been going through periodic bursts. Gotta work it reasonably into my schedule I guess...
2. You will be a Runner. I ran for an additional 2 minutes this morning from yesterday's run, and I think I can probably stick to this one. And, after being hit on "by the wrong roommate" my brother is also somewhat resolved to get back in shape. So hopefully I will have a running partner soon.
3. Exercise Some Will Power. Um. Well desert is still pretty constant in my life BUT desert has taken the form of Liberte Citron yogourt, individual size bags of Kettle Corn, and Light Hot Chocolate (brilliant suggestion from Yule).
4. Love Thy Skin. Again, my vanity has kept this resolution in check. And with the sunshine out full force lately, it has been relatively easy to remember that crucial sunscreen. That said, I did visit a dreaded tanning salon to prep for Belize (whole lot of good that did me...).
5. Regimen, regimen, regimen. I may have gone overboard on this one actually. When I'm not vacationing or hosting my lovely friends, I have pretty much every hour of my day accounted for. Before bed each night I write out a to do list and schedule. That said, last night's list says I should be at the library right now, not updating my blog in my thai fisherman pants while doing laundry. So, again, 50/50 here
6. TLC for my BFFs. So, no, I have not spent an hour on Sundays catching up with people. That said, I have engaged in actual correspondances, as in, not virtual/digital. Impressive, right? My darling Melina and I have engaged a couple of letters, and I have been truly negligent in responding to the lovely Aly (because I cannot find post cards as adorable as hers!) but I think I have been pretty good on this front as of late.
7. Finish Your Thesis. yeah...6. TLC for my BFFs. So, no, I have not spent an hour on Sundays catching up with people. That said, I have engaged in actual correspondances, as in, not virtual/digital. Impressive, right? My darling Melina and I have engaged a couple of letters, and I have been truly negligent in responding to the lovely Aly (because I cannot find post cards as adorable as hers!) but I think I have been pretty good on this front as of late.
Ok, so things aren't looking to dour. Added to these resolutions were: read more magazines; grow out your hair; no alcohol until you finish a draft of your thesis. All of those have gone marvelously.
Maybe, just maybe, I will be a grown up soon.
But as Tommy Whelan knows, I withhold that distinctions for individuals who can neatly and quickly chop vegetables and crack an egg with one hand.
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Spring?
The upside of spend 6 days away from Montreal binge drinking and "playing rugby" is that I gave Montreal the chance to drag its shit together and get nice out. As I complained so much last month, the back and forth mood swings of above zero Saturdays followed by 5 cm of snowfall Sundays was really getting me down. But, since I've been back, we appear to be hovering nicely around zero, and the snow and ice has, at the very least, receded from the sidewalks, making my footwear options much more appealing.
Unfortunately, the downside of binge drinking for 6 days is that I am really behind in work. So, alas, while I would love to regal you with all my spring fashion must-haves - think Proenza-Schouler everything - I haven't the time to search the internet and cross-reference with my growing stack of Vogues and Nylons. So instead, I thought I would present, for your approval, how Sydney circa 1995 would spend her first days of Spring.
I would definitely be out on my street with my neighbours, playing Skip-it on the gravel-covered roads (as the city of Calgary is cautious to declare spring and clean the streets any time before July). I was not good a Skip-it, but I definitely owned a bubblegum pink one, for which I never figured out how to use the counter.
If I was lucky enough, I would also have a Ring-Pop, but those treats were usually reserved for when we went down to our cabin in Waterton and visited Welch's Chocolate Shoppe.
All I want to do is eat candy and go swimming in the lake. Go away thesis.
Unfortunately, the downside of binge drinking for 6 days is that I am really behind in work. So, alas, while I would love to regal you with all my spring fashion must-haves - think Proenza-Schouler everything - I haven't the time to search the internet and cross-reference with my growing stack of Vogues and Nylons. So instead, I thought I would present, for your approval, how Sydney circa 1995 would spend her first days of Spring.
 |
| this may be cheating, as Ring-pops most definitely do still exist. Will you marry me? |
If I was lucky enough, I would also have a Ring-Pop, but those treats were usually reserved for when we went down to our cabin in Waterton and visited Welch's Chocolate Shoppe.
All I want to do is eat candy and go swimming in the lake. Go away thesis.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
So.Boned
I am never flying again.
I should be getting into Montreal right now. I booked my flight so that I would get back in by 8:40 in the morning, leaving ample time between arriving and my conferences at 11:30. Even if I had my flight delayed by 2 whole hours, I would make it in time to teach.
Alas, a 3 hour delay - no chance.
So.Boned.
I should be getting into Montreal right now. I booked my flight so that I would get back in by 8:40 in the morning, leaving ample time between arriving and my conferences at 11:30. Even if I had my flight delayed by 2 whole hours, I would make it in time to teach.
Alas, a 3 hour delay - no chance.
So.Boned.
Way Back Play Back
Anyone who knows me personally knows that, particularly in recent years, am fascinated with the past. And no, I do not mean a sort of academic, historical curiosity. I mean that I like to dwell on my own childhood and burst out with exclamations of "Hey! You guys remember _____? MAN! That shit was AWESOME!"
Ever since my trip to Thailand in 2009, where a girl presented the drinking game category "things from your childhood that no longer exists" I have been obsessed.
Time to channel that obsession in what I hope will become a series of posts which will steal the title of retro radio playlists the world round, Way Back Play Back.
First entry:
Motherfucking Popples. I tried to remind my brother of this cartoon from our childhood recently, and he looked at me like I was a crazy person, but I knew - KNEW - that we had not only rented Blockbuster VHSs featuring these guys, but that I owned "some fluffy technicolour alien that folded up into a little ball." Nope, maintained Cam; I was crazy. I couldn't remember the name until my favourite investigative website referenced Popples briefly in this magnificent video segment.
Popples. Awesome.
Ever since my trip to Thailand in 2009, where a girl presented the drinking game category "things from your childhood that no longer exists" I have been obsessed.
Time to channel that obsession in what I hope will become a series of posts which will steal the title of retro radio playlists the world round, Way Back Play Back.
First entry:
Popples. Awesome.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Post-Truro Reality
Today is the last day of my 4 week vacation from working on my thesis. Time to start working like a God damn dog for the next 3 months.
This was a fairly epic Truro. No photos to come. No explanations pending. Truro is an experiences best limited to the bar(n).
That said, it has reminded me that I desperately need to get back in shape.
Resolution: no more booze until I finish my thesis + exercise of some variety every single day.
No lie.
This is what is so hard about post-Truro reality. You look forward to it ever since Christmas ends, then the weekend comes and then it is gone. It is as heartbreaking as that moment on Christmas day when you realize that it's time to start throwing out all the wrapping paper. But Truro seems especially hard, because every Christmas you know you will be seeing your family. Truro runs the gambit. And this year could be my last. Eventually I may be too old to binge drink and hit on 17 year-old boys while playing some truly gritty rugby. And Truro is, as my last comment indicates, a physically close experience. I want to be snuggling everyone I am mildly acquainted with right this instant. But alas, instead I have rug burn and work to do, not to mention a cold and alienating city to return home to.
fuck rug burn.
This was a fairly epic Truro. No photos to come. No explanations pending. Truro is an experiences best limited to the bar(n).
That said, it has reminded me that I desperately need to get back in shape.
Resolution: no more booze until I finish my thesis + exercise of some variety every single day.
No lie.
This is what is so hard about post-Truro reality. You look forward to it ever since Christmas ends, then the weekend comes and then it is gone. It is as heartbreaking as that moment on Christmas day when you realize that it's time to start throwing out all the wrapping paper. But Truro seems especially hard, because every Christmas you know you will be seeing your family. Truro runs the gambit. And this year could be my last. Eventually I may be too old to binge drink and hit on 17 year-old boys while playing some truly gritty rugby. And Truro is, as my last comment indicates, a physically close experience. I want to be snuggling everyone I am mildly acquainted with right this instant. But alas, instead I have rug burn and work to do, not to mention a cold and alienating city to return home to.
fuck rug burn.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Last Leg of Unsanctioned Four Week Vacation
So today Kathy departs for Fredericton while I prepare my giddy ass for a week-long visit to Halifax.
It was awesome having Kathy here. I miss the feeling of always having a close friend so close at hand. Not to hate on my Montreal friends, because they rock, but we all just always have so much of our own stuff going on. What can I say? I'm very co-dependent.
So, getting to have one of my absolute besties nesting with me in Montreal for five days, getting to meet her boyfriend, go shopping and become obsessed with Criminal Minds has been an absolute treat. Not to mention I have been missing her like fucking crazy.
Now I am in the airport, about to fly out to Halifax. And I am so freaking excited. Truro Sevens Rugby tournament is my rugby event of the year. I can't imagine my year without it; I seriously start looking forward to it once the fall season is over, and basically all of first semester for the past 5 years has been devoted to prepping for it. Less this year. Shamefully less. Not looking forward to that first godawful hit. But I am looking forward to seeing all my Halifax peeps who I love and miss. Chopper is picking me up at the airport (in exchange for me not mocking his PT Cruiser...this is a huge sacrifice on my part), I'm staying at Genny's and then...the BARN! Brace yourselves. Shit is about to get all kinds of real.
On a completely related note: I have done no work in 4 weeks.
Thesis, shmesis.
 |
| You, Kathy! I like you! |
So, getting to have one of my absolute besties nesting with me in Montreal for five days, getting to meet her boyfriend, go shopping and become obsessed with Criminal Minds has been an absolute treat. Not to mention I have been missing her like fucking crazy.
Now I am in the airport, about to fly out to Halifax. And I am so freaking excited. Truro Sevens Rugby tournament is my rugby event of the year. I can't imagine my year without it; I seriously start looking forward to it once the fall season is over, and basically all of first semester for the past 5 years has been devoted to prepping for it. Less this year. Shamefully less. Not looking forward to that first godawful hit. But I am looking forward to seeing all my Halifax peeps who I love and miss. Chopper is picking me up at the airport (in exchange for me not mocking his PT Cruiser...this is a huge sacrifice on my part), I'm staying at Genny's and then...the BARN! Brace yourselves. Shit is about to get all kinds of real.
On a completely related note: I have done no work in 4 weeks.
Thesis, shmesis.
Friday, March 4, 2011
My Guide to a Better Me (and You!)
I am on the path of self-actualizing my transcendental perfection. Making physical what is spiritually self evident.
Also known as, trying to reach peak physical hotness.
I'm tired of all this "perfection is relative" nonsense. Ok, yeah, maybe it is, but that doesn't mean we should just accept what we've been McHanded. Time to acknowledge that human flaws exist, and that it is ok to try to stamp them out.
I am full of bullshit right now. Basically I just have altered my daily regimen again, after my time in Cali, and am happy to share with you the depths of my vanity.
Step 1: Inside Out
Vitamins and such! Omega 3-6-9 to boost my immune system, Vitamin E to make my hair, skin and nails awesome (though originally started taking it because apparently it helps prevent lactic acid build up that will wake you up in the night with debilitating calf cramps - I know you know what I'm talking about), Glucosamine because I got it for free and it helps with joints, and Spirulina in case I don't get all my veggies. No one looks good sick and limping.
Step 2: Thick Shiny Hair!
Not the old fashioned way, the new, Finnish, Vogue-recommended way. Viviscal! A Hair thinning treatment that has been found to make those of us not balding grow thicker, stronger and longer locks. May contain shark. Whatever.
Step 3: Whitestrips.
Really white teeth are only occasionally frightening - yellow teeth always are.
Step 4: FaceFaceFace
Gotta insure the moneymaker. Viviscal apparently, alongside the sweet intended side affects, makes you break out. Fucking sharks and their black magic. So I balance that with Proactive Cleanser in the morning and at night. If I shower or wash my face during the day, I go for a gentler cleanser (I have both Keihl's Ultra Facial Cleanser and L'Occitane Amande Pomme Cleansing Oil - this one was a sweet stranded-at-the-Houston-airport based discovery). After washing, apply a gentle toner, Keihl's Ultra Toner. Follow promptly with a light facial moisturizer and, in the morning, SPF 45 sunscreen, or in the evening, Olay Regenerist Microsculpting Cream and Keihl's Avocado Eye Cream. Only perfection will do!
Step 5: Inner Zen - Outter Hotness
Hot Yoga. I try to go everyday - it keeps me sane on all sorts of levels. It gives me a break from work, it lets me focus entirely on myself for an hour and a half, and it means I can buy chocolate on my way home relatively guilt free.
Step 6: Green Tea
Abandon coffee, all ye who wish to enter the realm of hotness. It makes you prone to bloating, stains your teeth, and make thou a jittery, addicted mess.
Step 7: Early to Bed, Early to Rise
You gotta get shit done between aiming for physical perfection - like mark a million papers and write a god damn thesis. But you must avoid looking haggard while doing so. So, up no later than 9:00, even on weekends, to bed no later than 1:00. 8 hours of sleep minimum whenever humanly possible.
These are the tenants! May they lead me through the shadow of the Valley of the Unfortunate Looking.
Also known as, trying to reach peak physical hotness.
I'm tired of all this "perfection is relative" nonsense. Ok, yeah, maybe it is, but that doesn't mean we should just accept what we've been McHanded. Time to acknowledge that human flaws exist, and that it is ok to try to stamp them out.
I am full of bullshit right now. Basically I just have altered my daily regimen again, after my time in Cali, and am happy to share with you the depths of my vanity.
Step 1: Inside Out
Vitamins and such! Omega 3-6-9 to boost my immune system, Vitamin E to make my hair, skin and nails awesome (though originally started taking it because apparently it helps prevent lactic acid build up that will wake you up in the night with debilitating calf cramps - I know you know what I'm talking about), Glucosamine because I got it for free and it helps with joints, and Spirulina in case I don't get all my veggies. No one looks good sick and limping.
Step 2: Thick Shiny Hair!
Not the old fashioned way, the new, Finnish, Vogue-recommended way. Viviscal! A Hair thinning treatment that has been found to make those of us not balding grow thicker, stronger and longer locks. May contain shark. Whatever.
Step 3: Whitestrips.
Really white teeth are only occasionally frightening - yellow teeth always are.
Step 4: FaceFaceFace
Gotta insure the moneymaker. Viviscal apparently, alongside the sweet intended side affects, makes you break out. Fucking sharks and their black magic. So I balance that with Proactive Cleanser in the morning and at night. If I shower or wash my face during the day, I go for a gentler cleanser (I have both Keihl's Ultra Facial Cleanser and L'Occitane Amande Pomme Cleansing Oil - this one was a sweet stranded-at-the-Houston-airport based discovery). After washing, apply a gentle toner, Keihl's Ultra Toner. Follow promptly with a light facial moisturizer and, in the morning, SPF 45 sunscreen, or in the evening, Olay Regenerist Microsculpting Cream and Keihl's Avocado Eye Cream. Only perfection will do!
Step 5: Inner Zen - Outter Hotness
Hot Yoga. I try to go everyday - it keeps me sane on all sorts of levels. It gives me a break from work, it lets me focus entirely on myself for an hour and a half, and it means I can buy chocolate on my way home relatively guilt free.
Step 6: Green Tea
Abandon coffee, all ye who wish to enter the realm of hotness. It makes you prone to bloating, stains your teeth, and make thou a jittery, addicted mess.
Step 7: Early to Bed, Early to Rise
You gotta get shit done between aiming for physical perfection - like mark a million papers and write a god damn thesis. But you must avoid looking haggard while doing so. So, up no later than 9:00, even on weekends, to bed no later than 1:00. 8 hours of sleep minimum whenever humanly possible.
These are the tenants! May they lead me through the shadow of the Valley of the Unfortunate Looking.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Chocolate Enrobed Debacle
That’s what they call candy coating in the chocolate industry – enrobing. Delicious.
With my knowledge of chocolate vocabulary establishing my obvious credentials, I want to investigate, from a very biased but well informed position, the drama of Calgary-based chocolate company Bernard Callebaut.
If you aren’t familiar with Bernard Callebaut chocolates 1) that’s a shame and 2) you probably do not live in Western Canada. But they are top notch, with 30 stores across Canada and the US. Check it out. The company, whose namesake, along with his wife Francesca (originally named Wendy – there is speculation that she changed it to make herself sound more prestigious), are Calgary celebrity. Them, and that guy on Slice who is really good at training dogs. And Darrel Janz. But I digress.
This summer, the Callebaut company went into receivership. It appeared as though Bernard and Francesca made some very unwise business decisions, and ended up many millions of dollars in debt. Whoops.
The reaction throughout Calgary was one of sympathy. Most Calgarians have fond memories associated with these quality chocolates, and his growing renown as a chocolatier was a thing of pride for a city who is most famous for a Rodeo and Cowboys (the club, not the people). So the fact that he had been so hard hit by the recession that his company, a part of Calgary’s business community for over 25 years, was in danger of going out of business entirely was certainly sad.
But there were individuals with the know-how, means and opportunity to keep this company alive. Mike Freeland, the owner of many Callebaut stores in Edmonton, Brian Beck, former vice-president of operations, and a third unnamed investor, took the reins from Bernard in September. The reactions were vehement. Bernard, the man, rolled his eyes and confessed that he could no longer be sure of the quality since he was not going to be with the company anymore. Interesting, since the new owners offered him a position with the company; Freeland told the Calgary Herald “we’re not chocolate makers. We’re just competent business people that will make sure bills get paid and these are the kinds of things that weren’t happening that led to the receivership.” In response to the news that Bernard was planning on starting up a new chocolate operation, Freeland responded, “I must admit it puzzles me that he wants to set up this whole new venture rather than working with his previous company that he’s invested all this effort into. We’ve been completely open to that possibility.”
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| you know this guy doesn't wear a fucking suit. |
Yet. Calgarians, fuelled by the Herald, backed Bernard in what was made out to be a David and Goliath battle. Poor Bernard, the talent behind the company, victim of the recession, loses his life’s work, and has a bunch of businessmen in suits take over. Who wants to buy chocolates from a company that doesn’t have the smiling face of a chocolatier on its advertisements and in its kitchens. Which, by the way, Bernard wasn’t. The comments regarding quality are absurd, given that all the existing inventory, machinery and staff (yup – virtually all the staff stayed on with the new employers, which should really say something, given that Brian Beck had previously headed, or vice-headed, operations at Callebaut in the past) were still in place. Many vows were made, on the Herald’s website and in private conversation, to support Bernard’s new effort, a ludicrously named Papa Chocolat (which evokes some disturbing windowless van imagery for me, personally), and to abandon these suits peddling stolen (or paid-for at the price of over 6 million dollars…whatever…) chocolates.
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| this man... |
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| ...driving this van |
As I learned at boarding school, just because your name is on it, doesn’t mean it’s yours. Before the new owners came in, Bernard ferreted away chocolate, molds (which created the chocolates for Papa Chocolate – this is really the high of delusion to think that no one would notice identically shaped chocolates), laptops and sculptures that had been bought by the company, the latter two which had always taken up permanent residence in Bercesca’s private home[s].
Whoops.
I retell this story in the hopes that people will stop thinking of this man and his batshit crazy wife WHO HAS A BUTLER as the charming victims of fate, the orphans of ladyluck, Andrew Carnegieing their way through bad times to chocolate covered…I mean…enrobed success. They are a couple of crooks who spent money that should have been paid to the people they owed, taking cash out of the register for Louis Vuitton, and lying to the people who not only kept the company afloat, but offered to keep the man behind it all in the business which, they openly admit, is his means of making a living.
A little illustration of the merit of Francesca as a businesswoman and person: two lifer employees at Callebaut are a married couple, which seems to be the beginning of a fairytale I would like to have starred in. However, while Francesca was responsible for making the schedule, one worked the day shift, while the other was responsible for the night shift. If you haven’t got there yet, this means that this husband and wife only got to see eachother on days off or when they traded off chocolate covered uniforms (I imagine they share one…no way you can keep them clean anyways, right?). While Beck was responsible for operations, he realize, “well this is a cruel joke,” and put them on the same shift. They probably started getting sick of each other, but they had previously requested the change from Francesca to no avail. When Beck left, they were switched back to the good ol’ model of blatant capitalist exploitation that was Lenin’s wet dream (I bet…). They work together again now.
I ate my weight in Callebaut enrobed pretzels while authoring this god damn research paper, and will personally attest that the quality is there, and that we should all [over]indulge a little. Maybe, instead of rags to riches, Bernard’s story is actually just sweet, sweet, SWEET justice. Get the pun?
Chilly California Toes
This will not be a post full of beautiful, braggarty photos from Belize. I am waiting to compile a master compilation album, and am waiting on my mum's photos. It will come though. And you will feel jealous.
This trip was lovely, once I finally got there. I didn't get my bag until 3 days before I left, but the joy of travelling in a laid back town which only within the last 3 years paved it's 3 roads, is that you don't need much.
I am finding myself very reluctant to return to reality. I have grown very jealous of my parent's lifestyle of near-retirement, in my dad's case, and stay-at-home motherhood sans children, in my mum's. They have responsibilities, certainly, and they manage to keep themselves really busy. But they also spend months on end in California, broken up with jaunts to Belize and Peru. And the idea of returning to the cold of Montreal where I will be camping out in the library until I finish my thesis (I'm feeling so behind! I'm delaying the panic attack for the flight from Denver to Montreal...), where it is still frigidly cold, where I need to wear makeup and do my hair and exercise if I want to be seen in public, where I have to wake up and live as dictated to by multiple alarms in my cell phone, and where I don't have random strangers blessing me and telling me how good I look on the street. Ugh.
California is a good transition though. It is much colder than Belize - a cloudy 20 degrees - I need to mark all the papers that I swore I was going to do while in Belize (what was I thinking?), I am transitioning rather enthusiastically into boho-chic California beachwear, my phone, which the hotel I left it at kindly mailed here, woke me up this morning, and only women in their 50s have told me I'm pretty since I got here. So, I am being brought back down to reality. Kind of...
Today will be a mix of trying to catch some rays while also marking 19 papers. Yesterday was shopping. Details to come soon.
I missed you, internet friends.
This trip was lovely, once I finally got there. I didn't get my bag until 3 days before I left, but the joy of travelling in a laid back town which only within the last 3 years paved it's 3 roads, is that you don't need much.
I am finding myself very reluctant to return to reality. I have grown very jealous of my parent's lifestyle of near-retirement, in my dad's case, and stay-at-home motherhood sans children, in my mum's. They have responsibilities, certainly, and they manage to keep themselves really busy. But they also spend months on end in California, broken up with jaunts to Belize and Peru. And the idea of returning to the cold of Montreal where I will be camping out in the library until I finish my thesis (I'm feeling so behind! I'm delaying the panic attack for the flight from Denver to Montreal...), where it is still frigidly cold, where I need to wear makeup and do my hair and exercise if I want to be seen in public, where I have to wake up and live as dictated to by multiple alarms in my cell phone, and where I don't have random strangers blessing me and telling me how good I look on the street. Ugh.
California is a good transition though. It is much colder than Belize - a cloudy 20 degrees - I need to mark all the papers that I swore I was going to do while in Belize (what was I thinking?), I am transitioning rather enthusiastically into boho-chic California beachwear, my phone, which the hotel I left it at kindly mailed here, woke me up this morning, and only women in their 50s have told me I'm pretty since I got here. So, I am being brought back down to reality. Kind of...
Today will be a mix of trying to catch some rays while also marking 19 papers. Yesterday was shopping. Details to come soon.
I missed you, internet friends.
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