Me Talk Pretty Stupid One Day

My first time interacting with a celebrity (if you don't count the time in London I asked Annie Lennox to please not breast feed while wearing the top she was trying on) was a colossal disaster.

It was a balmy spring night on the increasingly disgusting Granville Street and I had arrived at the Vogue Theatre with time to spare. En route to the ladies room I practically tripped over David Sedaris and his signing table. On my way back I realized the line for book signing was not unreasonable. I dragged myself up the stairs to the ends of the earth (line) and stood semi-patiently. I knew I was being set-up for failure when the producer of the show singled me out. (Thanks brand new luminescent velvet t-shirt.) He said that he was tasking me with telling people that tried to queue behind me to scram and that I was literally the "end of the line".  Not his words. He was much kinder. I told him he was making a big mistake and that I couldn't be trusted.

Long story short - I did a mediocre job and only pissed off one person in line. And that person was in front of me. From there it went from awkward to awkward as ass.

You know how you feel when you talk to a crush? The sweating, the garbled speech, the utter nonsense that vomits out of your face . . .  That was me when I finally got to the front of the line clutching my dog-eared copy of Me Talk Pretty One Day. 

I slapped down a piece of paper with my name written on it.

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"Hi, my name's a nightmare, here you go" (gracious opener right?)

He asked where the name originated (like everyone else on the GD planet). I replied Latvia and he said, "Oh I've been to one of it's neighbours."

"Lithuania? Estonia?"

"Estonia."

*useless agreeable nodding "I hear it's beautiful there. But Hitler did call Latvia's capital city Riga, "the Paris of the North . . . . . . . so . . . . " 

*tumbleweed

Mr Sedaris silently handed me my book.

I threw up on him and scurried away.

 

the end

 

Remember when . . .

I'm feeling nostalgic. So what else is new. Specifically I'm nostalgic for London. A city I clearly don't recall loathing on a daily basis. All I choose to remember is its charming quirkiness and the total gas I had living there. 

I've decided to revisit some of my writings of the time and I've decided to inflict this hilarity on you may faithful reader(s). Yes, all six of you.

Backstory: I lived in a terrific (and uncharacteristically humongous) flat in Southwark. Across the road was a dodgy-as-fuck half-way house. It provided hours of entertainment and a general sense of uneasiness.

Lets reminisce shall we?

I’ve mentioned the house for the derelict and permanently drunk that’s located across the street? Well, we can add insane to that list of credentials. As I was hanging out my window yesterday I spotted a shifty character come out of  the “shelter” across the way. So far nothing too out of the ordinary. Except upon close inspection I actually read what was on this fella’s t-shirt. Bearing in mind he was weaving all over the road. Difficult to focus. In scrawled, what looked to be printing done in liquid paper. In a very either avant garde or slightly more likely, hasty intoxicated fashion he had written on the front 100% MAD. Super. The really swell part was when I got a look at the back, and it read 200% CRAZY. Super-duper. I think that just about sums up the caliber of resident across the street. Send me your loving thoughts now, cause tomorrow it may be too late. This of course coming from the girl who dragged a door home from under the overpass down the road b/c she thought it looked pretty. Hey kettle, you’re black. 

The End.

For now at least - tune in again next time for more drivel.

Get Stuffed

is that a bat or a duck hanging from the ceiling - or is it some bizarre hybrid? Either way, fluorescent lights are doing wonders for this place. 

is that a bat or a duck hanging from the ceiling - or is it some bizarre hybrid? Either way, fluorescent lights are doing wonders for this place. 

Is taxidermy in - and by in I mean acceptable? Many of us grew up with it to a certain degree; From shellacked turtles to various hides nailed to grandma's wall - I know my childhood involved a healthy amount. To this day, many a rumpus room probably still has a selection of antlers dotting their wood-panelled walls. So, despite prevailing winds blowing in the direction of vegetarianism can people find a place in their psyche for stuffed game despite a literal distaste for animals?

I say yes. The resurgence of taxidermy and the like, probably has hipster-populated coffee shops that double as “general stores” to thank for its brewing popularity. Furnished with Edison-esque light bulbs and an array of bleached antlers these once novelty-type shops, are now taking the place of useful corner stores (You know - somewhere to buy milk, and I don't mean almond or soy). I suppose It was just a matter of time before we began thinking of bits of fauna skull as decorative again. Let's face it - it's only been 4 decades or so since rumpus rooms showcased deer heads on their wood panelled walls. 

We don't see it often in sustainably PC Vancouver, but there are actual shops devoted to the rare and unusual natural sciences. Save for museums and those strategic antlers or lacquered swordfish hovering over the latest trendy watering hole, we don't often see a concentration of biological odds and ends.  I was horrified and amused back in the early 2000's when I stumbled upon the legendary London establishment “Get Stuffed”. To this day i recall the exotic creatures that lay inside its caged doors. 

On my to-do list next time I hit PAris, is the marvellously disturbing Deyrolle. It has a close to 200 year history of not only taxidermy but geological specimens and “curiosities”. Many of Deyrolle's specimens are antique - others are thoughtfully acquired. Set up as essentially a life size textbook, the specimens were originally intended to be used for educational purposes. 

Thanks to Darwin and pith helmet clad hunters looking for the latest whiskered edition to their front hall, an interest in natural history took off in the late 1800's and Deyrolle was able to make a successful go at providing pedagogical specimens. And voila, there went the Dodo bird. There is a distinct difference between the cobbled together basements we are perhaps used to and a refined of a collection such as Deyrolle. Filmmakers Woody Allen and Wes Anderson have both used the establishment in and for their work. 

In the late 20th century taxidermy became less and less acceptable, save for those who actually ate what they shot. This ensures hunting is not so much a sport, as it is grocery shopping – or as culinary types refer to as: nose to tail eating. Just take a glance through every second issue of national geographic. The horrors are staggering. Hunting for kicks, with the sole purpose to have something to hang your hat on was and to this day is, more than frowned upon. What you want to do with your pet ferret after he passes on is your business – lets leave the elephants out of it. 

For the opposite end of the taxidermy spectrum (visit @craptaxidermy on twitter to see how the procedure can go hilariously wrong. This bizarre twitter feed reinforces the acceptability of taxidermy as a form of amusement and enjoyment) 

Valentines, sh-malentines con't

We want you're opinion. But only if its positive.

Not really - be honest, because lets face it, if people were all sweetness and light all the time it would be quite difficult to to take anyones opinion seriously. 

We've got fortune cookies with pick-up lines (bad ones obviously), lonely bubbles and a sappy scholastic heart. 

Like the classics? Shop them here: 

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South Granville Inhabiter

  • What you're going to get: 
    This and That (including but not limited to: opinions, observations, photographs, drawings, history, reviews, musings, sass and amusement)

  • What you're not going to get: 
    Hard hitting political commentary, sugar coating, pussyfooting. 

Because one website isn't enough - Introducing the South Granville Inhabiter.

My latest collaboration is with the talented Helena McMurdo and the quick witted Heather Phillips. Together we've banded together to produce what is sure to be the favorite and most informative neighborhood blog in Vancouver. We focus on our neighborhood of South Granville with posts spanning the pertinent and irreverent not to mention our personal views.

Want to meet that cute brunette, you've had your eye on? Meet him/her the old fashioned way - on the internet. We'll be profiling your fellow inhabitants so you can get to know your neighbors without actually getting to know your neighbors. Ever wondered about a particular building, restaurant or shop - there's an outside chance we'll be able to tell you all about it. Don't know where to find that certain something for that certain someone - we'll tell you were to go (ahem).

So take a look, tell your friends, tell your enemies - spread the word through our fair neighborhood and beyond!

Blobs vs. Heels

As with Crocs, (gagging*) Tevas and the like serve a purpose. That purpose is to be hidden in nature and used on slippery rocky terrain. I maintain that these visually loathsome footwear choices are unnecessary in urban settings. Case in point - last weekend: Walking uphill, I overtook two women (roughly my age) wearing generic rubbery tready blobby things on their feet while I was wearing heels and a pacemaker. And there you have it.

The Defence rests.

Not Tevas.

Not Tevas.

Vancouver Fashion Week gives it the ol' college try . . . Again.

I've only ever been on the back end of Vancouver Fashion Week. Long story, short. I came away from VFW 2008 vowing NEVER to contribute, attend or support it in any way. But as many people have said before me – “never say never”! Cut to: Thursday the 14th of March 2013. Continue reading at Hello Vancity . . . . . 

~ One of the best looking things at VFW: The Four Seasons lobby. ~

~ One of the best looking things at VFW: The Four Seasons lobby. ~