Silver Knife Yellow Nails.jpg

Last winter, my better half Tyler followed me on a nail polish adventure.  I was trying to find a certain limited edition shade, and Tyler was so intrigued by the chase that she bought a bottle, herself.  What started out as a legitimate name for a color "Mrs.O'Leary's BBQ" (thanks OPI) turned into monthly email updates between Tyler and I that ranged from Tyler's "I'm wearing WTF BBQ" to my "Today I put on O'Leary's Pork Roast".  Tragically, Tyler still lives in Montreal so these updates are imperative.  Well, as it turns out, Tyler also bought the neon nail polish I was raving about earlier, but this time, instead of notifying each other when the color was on our nails, I asked her to send me a photo of her demonstrating her new purchase.  I'm not sure exactly what is happening (or about to happen) in this photo, but I can say this doesn't surprise me.  

Phantom Pain





If you call it an aubergine you'll sound classy

One little snag of living alone is that I don't often cook elaborate meals just for myself.  I don't eat very big portions so a lot of what I cook ends up being wasted.  I used to bring leftovers to work for other people to eat, but then I started to feel like a perv-y Mr.Rogers, so that stopped, and I was once again left with seventeen portions of paella, which isn't fun to eat.  Anyway, while I mostly stick to quick little dishes when dining solo, this past weekend I wanted to thug out on a recipe and this Gingery Eggplant in Coconut Sauce seemed promising as it was both vegan and exciting- two things that don't always co-exist.  I substituted a can of coconut milk for the 'coconut' because I wasn't sure of the form their coconut was in.  I also used Graffiti eggplant, because that was all I could find at my local grocery store (and because it sounds bad-ass).  It turned out really well, thanks to these ingredients:

Is there anything more photogenic than spices?

In all my experience with curries and generally creamy dishes,  it's very difficult to make them look good in photographs, so this is the best summation of the deliciousness that resulted:

Then I decided no meal was complete without a warm, chocolatey dessert, so I found Anais' trusty Blondies recipe, and spent the rest of the afternoon eating my emotions:

Black Black Heart

Though I've never been into Moist, my love affair with David Usher began when I was given his first solo album as a birthday gift in grade nine, and absolutely everyone who knows me knows about my painfully unrequited love and mocks me accordingly.  David Usher got me through broken teenage hearts, through hour-long bus rides to school every morning (CD player with single 12-song CD? check.), and well, frankly, when no one else got it, David did.  Add to that his sultry eyes, that wispy hair, the perfect disregard for mixing blue with black (his signature ensemble is composed of blue pants with a black shirt)...how could anyone not love that? Alas, no one I know shares my passion for this 45 year-old man.  And while I used to go to his shows by myself, thankfully it's getting easier and easier to evoke pity in my loved ones thus coercing them into being my concert companions.  The pity, of course, stems from the fact that I am tragically in love with an old married man.

Anyway, because David knew that my summer couldn't be complete without us seeing each other, he made an appearance at a local fair last night.  I was almost certain I'd be attending this event alone when my lovely friend Rowan offered to come along.  Like a true gentleman, Rowan did his best not to laugh, but couldn't hold back for long.  "On the big screen, you can make out his IVs", he said.  They just don't get it, David.

The two pictures of David were taken by Rowan who was able to get a much better shot, being much taller than me. The last photo, I think, is my favorite one of all in existence...

And if you aren't yet mesmerized by his perfection, here's a shot from a show he played in 2010, where he has slightly longer hair....ugh, swoon..

On The Fence

As much as I love September, sometimes it's good for a season to just make up it's damn mind and either be hot or cold.  I leave the house in a scarf and sweater, shivering, and by noon it's suddenly eighteen million degrees out, and the layers that accompanied me on my walk to work are left behind in piles around my office.  What up wit dat? Anyway one good thing about the indecisive nature of September - aside from the fact that in a soul-mate kind of way it matches my own indecisiveness - is that it lets you still wear some of your summer sandals when coupled with delicate hosiery.  I've been saving this safari dress for a walk in the woods (or a safari), but neither opportunity has been presented, so my living room (and nearby gelato shop) will do.  The last photo below clearly demonstrates the arduous task of thinking up gelato flavors.  (Although everyone knows it's Baci FTW.)