The Fast and the Fabulous

i can't believe there are two of us!

2007-03-21T21:23:00.000-05:00

After reading Shannons blog, I felt I had to check out my secret superhero status. I was surprised to find out that Shannon and I moonlight as the same superhero... However, I love that they figured out I was a fabulous princess with just 20 questions or so... Very perceptive.

Your results:
You are Wonder Woman

Wonder Woman		85%
Superman		75%
Supergirl		70%
The Flash		65%
Green Lantern		55%
Spider-Man		40%
Iron Man		35%
Hulk		35%
Robin		33%
Catwoman		30%
Batman		15%

You are a beautiful princess
with great strength of character.

Click here to take the Superhero Personality Quiz

Brrr, it's cold in here..

2007-03-19T22:29:00.000-05:00

It is cold in Toronto.

It feels especially cold after the delights of New Zealand. I'm not sure my body is made for such drastic temperature changes. It was quite a shock to the system!

My Big Fat Celebrity Sighting

2007-03-05T20:04:00.000-06:00

Finally! After years of hoping, waiting, yearning for my own celebrity sighting, listening to others' stories of seeing Prince (Adele), Victor Meldrew (Adele & Dave), Margaret Thatcher (my grandfather), Ronan Keating (my sister), I knew that my chance had come.

LAX airport on Oscar Sunday!

Surely there would be celebrities agogo, obligatory prada hand bag, skinny leg jeans, large sun glasses in tow. Here would be my chance to rub shoulders with the rich and famous.

Pah.

It was a celebrity desert.

I looked high, I looked low, I peered suspiciously at people in the security lines (Adele's trick) but no, there were no celebrity sightings in LAX for me.

However. All was not lost.

For 13 hours earlier, in Auckland airport, my celebrity train pulled into the station. (drumroll)

Brace yourselves.

I'm not sure you're ready for this.

Further bracing possibly needed.

Yes, I not only saw one celebrity but a brace of them! (Triumphant pause)

Or is it a pack of them? Or a gaggle? Or a herd?

Well, whatever.

Celebrities agogo were mine! Louis Vuitton bag clutching. Gucci boutique bags toting. Long hair waving. Large oiled muscles rippling. Black leather straining. Tattoos abounding....

Erm, yes. You see, I had bumped into the WWE Smackdown New Zealand Tour.

I think if I had any knowledge, any knowledge at all about wrestling, I might have been excited. However, I have none, so was therefore unable to be truly excited. But, these are famous people. Maybe not to me, but to the little boy in the store who took ten photos of Rob Van Dam, and who will discover when he develops them that I am in the background of every single one of them, clutching onto a scarf stand so that I was not knocked over, I think he thinks he's famous.

So, there it is. My celebrity sighting. I give you the WWE.

http://www.wwe.com/worldwide/newzealand/2007tour/

I saw these people. Really I did.

So tell me, who else is a celebrity spotter?

Oh yeah baby. Oh yeah!

2007-01-15T12:04:00.000-06:00

Your Driving Is is: 88% Male, 12% Female

According to studies, you drive like a typical male.
You're reckless, aggressive, and see driving as a game.
And while you like to live on the edge a little, you still know how to drive safely.

Do You Drive Like a Guy or a Girl?

Dromedaries have one hump, Bactrians have two

2006-12-15T22:14:00.000-06:00

The strangest thing happened the other night.
I was driving through downtown Toronto at night. It was cold, wet, windy and ugly. I was late and traffic was slow and determined to thwart me.

And then, from out of nowhere, they appeared.

The three wisemen and their camels.

No, seriously. I'm not kidding.

Walking down the street, (on the sidewalk incidentally), there were three men in purple and green silk robes, leading three big hairy camels. There were no vehicles in sight. No big vans with "Zoo" written upon them. No travelling circuses. Just three hairy camels in December in Toronto.

I love Toronto.

Party Season

2006-11-22T21:01:00.000-06:00

I know! I know!

Guilty as charged.

There has been a great lack of blogging in my life. I have not lost the will to blog, as Dave R suggested. Nor died as others might suppose. Just been a little bit preoccupied.

Party season is almost upon us. I like parties. A lot. I like party food. I like dressing up. I like party drinks. I like party people. I like Christmas parties. Afternoon parties. Dinner parties. Candlelit parties. Outdoor parties. Parties with friends.

Roll on party season.

Anyone else like parties out there?

Who do you recommend?

2006-10-17T20:50:00.000-05:00

There has been a distinct lack of blogworthy material in my life this week.

On the hair front, I have had 4 people ask me for my Hair stylists number since I last went to Ernesto's. Can I just say that this is a triumph! A TRIUMPH.

If Hair Stylists, Doctors, Dentists, Mechanics, Car Insurance brokers and my Parents gave commission for the number of clients/people that I sent on to them, they would be paying ME to visit them. I include my parents because they are fabulous and really, if you haven't met them, you need to.

They go to the furthest corners of the globe, further than Siberia, further than the jungles of the Phillipines. They trot all over the world Mothering and Fathering everyone they meet and having a lot of fun doing it. They stand on the far borders of Russia, looking longly over the river towards China and hope that they can travel there. They've slept on broken beds and in single beds, in little mud huts in Rwanda whilst large wild cats broke into their living area and ate the remains of dinner.

They have brought home the strangest collection of gifts that I have ever seen, faithfully packing each, usually heavy and awkward item into their suitcases and lugging them home. I was particularly delighted to see the arrival of the large ceramic Boar. It was about 2 and a half feet long, over a foot high and a delightful shade of mustard brown. It had some sort of teapot lid on the top of it, we never quite figured it out.

They are adventurous and feisty, generous and humble. And they cook fabulous, fabulous food. Roll on Christmas!

(If you could imagine a picture of them at this point that would be helpful. I would have included a picture of their fabulous selves but unfortunately I experienced some technical difficulties).

Although I like to share the things I love, I do not share my car. Or my macbaby.

However, I would like to point out that I have never recommended my Oral Surgeon to anyone. Nor to my waxing lady, who is my waxing lady no more for several reasons. One being due to a certain harshness of style and two, because a conversation on the differences between the traditional Roman Catholic church and TACF whilst having one's legs waxed, is not my idea of a relaxing time and three, I have discovered Veet. Which is extremely effective, easy to use, much cheaper and doesn't involve harsh ministrations by Polish ladies.

My oral surgeon is fodder for a whole other blog entry. Which if you are planning on having your wisdom teeth out in the next five years, I don't recommend that you read.

Attack of the 76 Birds

2006-10-09T21:40:00.000-05:00

What a wonderful day it was yesterday. The sun was shining.The sky was blue. The air was warm. It was a day that cried out for a car wash.

I heard that cry. I heard that cry, dear readers and I responded (Seeing as I actually CANNOT remember the last time I washed my car).

Filled with zeal, I changed out of my impractical high heels and drove to the coin operated car wash. This type of car wash involves you leaping out and running around in a frenzy whilst plying your vehicle with high pressure jets and foam emitting scrub brushes,

I always feel a little out of place at this car wash. Everyone else seems to be either a) male, b) driving an Acura, c) wearing a lot of jewellery or d) supporting the alloy rim and car bling business. I stick out a little.

Anyways, back to the story. After a tasty Thanksgiving dinner hosted by the Harrises, where we were able to skype with Adele and get a live glimpse of Honour. Tucked cosily up in a MOST fashionable sling, she managed a gracious wave (She may possibly have been scratching her nose in her sleep but I preferred to take it as a gracious acknowledgement). Ah yes, after the dinner I headed back out to my car. My freshly washed, pristine, gleaming car. My PREVIOUSLY freshly washed, pristine and gleaming car.

My first thought was that leaves had fallen on it. A lot of leaves. A lot of small leaves. But oh no, they were not leaves.

An ENTIRE flock of birds must have sat in that tree. A HERD. A huge frenzied fully fed flock of BIRDS. And they ALL pooped on my car. All of them. Every single feathery one of them. Now, in case you are wondering whether or not I am prone to exaggeration and maybe there were just 5 birds sitting in that tree, I counted them.

Yes, that's right, I counted them. This morning, prior to going to the car wash for the second time in two days, I counted the number of bird poops on my car. There were SEVENTY SIX! I kid you not! Seventy six.

Was there an Alfred Hitchcock movie going on that I didn't know about? Seventy six, people, seventy six. I didn't think the tree was big enough to hold seventy six birds. Maybe they came in relays? Ten birds an hour. Or maybe they were the same 10 birds who came back, time after time. What are the chances?

I should have taken a photo and sent it in to the Guinness Book of Records. 'Most number of Bird Poops recorded in a 2 meter squared area in 6 hours.'

My car is probably traumatized. It may well even now be cowering out there on the parking lot, twitching every time a bird flies over it, the poor thing. It may take weeks to recover. I may even need to pray for it. I would hate it to be scared of birds. However, perhaps it thinks it's worth it to get washed twice in a weekend.

It'd better be clean when I go out there in the morning...

Sheer Genius

2006-10-07T18:30:00.000-05:00

He is a genius.

He is fabulous. He is talented. He is funny. He flirts semioutrageously. He knows what's inside my head and makes it happen. He is talented. (Did I mention that?) He is genius. And he is MY hairstylist people.

Can I tell you how happy this makes me? Like, really, really happy!

I love every hair cut he gives me. EVERY SINGLE ONE. I tell you no lie.

Gone are the days of leaving the salon after reassuring the hairdresser that you do like it, whilst secretly being filled with angst that they cut it too short, that they styled it wrong, that you are now doomed to wear a hat for the next few weeks. Remember those times when you would carefully spell out to the stylist what you wanted, repeating important words such as "NO MORE THAN AN INCH OFF" or "NO LAYERS" whilst they smiled, nodded even and then blithely went on their merry way chopping and layering as though their life depended on it. Remember? Remember? Perhaps it is only me who has had such experiences?

Well people, those days are in the past. Barely a troubling memory.

Today was yet another happy, happy hairstyling event for me. The glistening early morning start. (OK, so it's worth it!) The fervid cheek kissing. The cappucinos. The sublime shampooing (By a Urugyuan man named Alfredo. Alfredo? I was going to say that he was saucy (heh heh). But not really. He was elated to find out that I was English and kept interjecting the head massage with "I love the Eenglesh" or "Eengland is wonderful" . Apparently we are relaxed, enjoy smoking and play alot of Electronic music. Most enlightening.) However back to the happy, happy hair styling experience. The highlighting. The cappucinos. The cutting. The pep talks.

According to Ernesto, I need a serious boyfriend. However he reassured me that I have a good few years yet (apparently to find one). This was very comforting.

Anyway, I love my hair.

Fast and Fabulous?

2006-09-30T15:25:00.000-05:00

There are some strange people out there, engaging in some strange activities.

I know this because I googled my blog name. It was an eye opening insight for me.

Firstly, there are the fast and fabulous poncho makers. I have personally searched for a fast and fabulous poncho pattern for many years without success. Who knew that this day would come?

Then there are the fast and fabulous "instantly gratifying" ornaments. I'm not sure what is instantly gratifying about these ornaments, never having really found ornaments to be either instantly gratifying or fast and fabulous but that is not important, there are people out there who do.

There are also the fast and fabulous weight watchers. Obviously hoping to become fabulous fast, I assume.
Not forgetting the fast and fabulous gay and lesbian cycling clubs. Obviously not a group for the slow pedalers, or those lacking in fabulousness. I wonder if they have an interview process or a speed test.
There seem to be a lot of fast and fabulous cooks, whose main recipes seem to be baked ham and pizza. A somewhat limited reportoire I feel.

There also seem to be many people out there, engaged in making fast and fabulous accessories. I truly had not realised the extent of it all. Bangles, beads, earrings, necklaces, things made with wire, things made with wool, things made with rafia, things made with common household items, things made with biodegradable, environmentally friendly ingredients, things made with silk, things made with polyester, all claiming to be both fast and fabulous. They are mostly made by women named Kate or Margaret it seems, who obviously hold the market on being fast and fabulous in the accessorizing area.

And I have neglected to mention the suprising number of websites who promise sewing patterns for fast and fabulous 'figure flattering' wardrobes. I have to say I have grave reservations about this claim. I fear that the fabulousness that they allege, and indeed the figure flattering quality of these clothes might be severely compromised by the fastness that one would need in order to create this wardrobe. By the time you'd sewn a whole wardrobe of these garments, they would probably be out of style, it would have taken so long. So one thing or the other would definitely have to be compromised. And I'm thinking it probably wasn't the fastness....

I would like to reassure my readers that though my blog name might belie it, I am not engaged in any of these activities and any fastness and fabulousness that I indulge in is of quite a different nature.

To Begin at the Beginning

2006-09-26T19:20:00.000-05:00

The most difficult thing about starting something, I find, is the starting. (You may want to crosscheck with Lynley's thesis on procrastination at this point for cold hard facts, but as a person just starting a blog, just take my word for it!)

This baby has been at least a year in the making. And the place at which I stuck was the name. Also the first post. And what to colour to make it. And where to write it. Also the thoughts of whether I actually can write any of the details of my life down without:

a) Any of the people I write about actually managing to happen upon this blog, and trust me, it's a small, small world.

b) Any of the people I write about, then coming up to accost me in Starbucks the next week in an angry manner.

c) And they would be even more angry the week after that, once the details of the angry accostment had made it onto this blog.

d) Sheer disbelief. "Yes, I take part in exorcism's on a regular basis."

Hmmm, so no promises as to what this blog might contain, except hopefully it will be fun and fabulous.