My inbox held the magical invitation to the Fashion Television Host Hunt Afterparty at Rockwood this Thursday. Click in if you want to go. (Who says KC doesn't take care of her peeps?)
Anyhooo...
The FT host hunt leads into Canada's Next Top Model and of course that had me wonder where miss last year's winner is (aka - Andrea). Of course I caught Sisi strutting her fabulous self down the runway at Toronto Fashion Week looking like she owned it. However, like all the top models, invisibility seems to ensue.
So I, of course, wondered why this could be and with a little research I realized a few key points:
1. In 1991 the average size of a model was a size 6. During that time we were at the height of the Supermodel Era.
2. In the 1970's the average size of a model was a size 7/8 or about 135lbs (8% less than the average woman). This was the beginning of the Supermodel.
3. In 2007, the average size of a model is a size 0 or about 110lbs which translates to 23%
less than the average woman.
Ask yourself... Where is the Supermodel?
I don't think that has anything to do with coincidence. I think it's a simple fact: Women are drawn to shapes they can relate to. When the average size of a model equates to the average size of an 11 year old girl, then what do we have to relate to?
On average, I would say... nothing. Trust me, my cutie lil' booty will barely fit into the most generous of sizes at La Senza girl. The whole scene looks like an over stuffed sausage casing OR Mariah Carey on a fat day.
Yes.
I did go there.
So how did we lose the Supermodel?
Well here's my theory:
Make no mistake, the industry of fashion is one of marketing. Models are as disposable as the images they wear, because once you're yesterday's news, you need to step aside. The public gets bored fast, for example, who else is so over the UGGS trend or the Skinny Pant in Boot look?
Yep... me too.
So when your market's tastes get bored, you have to jazz it up with something new. And, when you're moving so fast, no wonder cocaine is the drug of choice... coincidentally that too keeps you thin.
So let me drive this puppy on home... Women have a group of overworked and coked out designers stressing on designing a line of clothing that will sell sell sell. This all needs to happen all in less than a 6 month window, twice a year. So do you think they have very many reflective surfaces?
No.
They have their circle of coked out designers and model friends stressing about their own issues. So they design clothes with that in mind.
Enter the fashion show, the emaciated models, manifestations of a cocaine dreams and martini chasers, take the catwalk. Everyone recoils in horror, at least most people did at Fashion week here. The shock really did resonate in an audible gasp, which by the lackadaisical designs confirmed that it had nothing to do with the fashion.
Then after a while, the audience relaxes, grooves to the music and when it's all done, we all feel guilty for wanting to eat. Brainwashing successful.
So the moment that happens- the moment you stop feeling beautiful in your skin and feel miles away from the contrived ideal from fashion shut ins, you just bought into the image they were selling.
Success! You just sold out!
Stay fierce, stay true and stop buying into an unrealistic ideal because the only way we will ever bring back the Supermodel will be the day when you are ready to look like her.
Get it?
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
I got tagged by a fellow blogger with the daunting task to outline the top five qualities of the archetypal Canadian male.
Let's rephrase that:
It's really important that I'm honest with the world at this moment. Can we share an intimate moment; writer to reader?
The man has got to be hot.
I want the quintessential Canadian male to be a dirty stinkin' hottie without shame or remorse.
In my head, he looks like this ---------------------------------->
Yeah, Freddie Ljungberg may be a Swedish footballer, but I am CONFIDENT there is at least one 6'+ Canadian that looks like this ---------------------------------------------------------------->
Again.
There MUST be a CANADIAN MAN who looks like ------------>
---------------------------------------------------------------->
Canadian men. This is your chance to step up to the plate and to show the world that you are.
----------------------------------------------------------> HOT!
In addition, you also possess the following qualities to round it off:
You are a renagade hottie with George Stroumboulopoulos' charisma, Trudeau's passion, Peter Gzowski's probing intellect and finally with a sense of culture that expands beyond the world of brand loyalty (Tim Horton's, I AM CANADIAN, St. Hubert's) and emcompasses all parts of Canadiana, including sports, arts, and comedy.
The sixth quality I'm happy to offer unsolicited. It is my pleasure, because that's what I do: I give.
Mr. Canadian Man will also have my name on a diamond solitaire with which he will use to propose to me on the Island of his Canadiana Cottage.
Where are my bitches with the blogs!? I tag:
Jax
Marty
I would tag more but I don't know that many people with blogs.
PS - You're all invited to the wedding, and no you cannot kiss the groom.
Promise.
DISCLAIMER: AIDAN PASCOE, THIS IS NOT YOU.
Last night rehearsal went until 10:30 so I was in bed at 11:30pm.
I got up early to do work and now I'm procrastinating for another 5 minutes before I truly have to move, get dressed, eat, do my make up and head to work.
However, before I do that I want to share with you my artistic depiction of me as a South Park Character.
Black Hoodie - check
Tongue Sticking Out - Check
Jeans - Check
My new little mp3 player camera phone because I'm too cheap to ever buy an Ipod - Check
Assymetrical hair cut - kind of check
Mascara - check
Will I make it to Rockwood tonight for the Naked News party?
I might have to try if only for 10 minutes so I can snap photos or something.
Anyone down to come with?
Monday, January 22, 2007
Do you love my wig? It's for Faust, it'll be covered by a hat, but, before that happens it's the perfect Chantootsie hair.
"Cigars? Cigarettes?"
So adorable.
Sunday, January 21, 2007
Oh, Robbie Williams, why do you display talent in such an unreasonably handsome exterior?
Ladies and Gentleman, Robbie's heard Madonna calling and he's answered in the form of a great synth pop ballad courtesy of The Pet Shop Boys.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, the video is great for "She's Madonna", Patricia Arquette, Robbie in drag, subtle references to Madge, heck it is a song about Madonna...
A SONG ABOUT MADONNA BASED UPON A BREAK UP CONVERSATION GUY RITCHIE GAVE TO THEN GIRLFRIEND TANIA STRECKER!
OOOH No he didn't!
OOOH yes he did! Imagine being dumped with the words "Look, you know I really love you, but she's Madonna!"
Carrie thought she had it bad with the Post-it note! I thought I had it bad with the email! But, no, the 6ft tall leggy supermodel of a tv presenter got it the worst. She got dumped by a guy who couldn't say "It's me it's you", but he could say "You're not Madonna. Sorry"
Apparently, love conquers all except for Madonna, who rules the world. And, since she does rule the world, don't fret, she gave Robbie the go ahead to release the track long ago. No word yet on what Ritchie said, but, it's probably safe to say that his opinion doesn't matter.
Or does it? Madonna, can you answer that one for him, please?
Saturday, January 20, 2007
I was going to wait for Stewart/Colbert to announce their bid for the 2008 presidential race before I blogged about any of it. Although, I had to post the latest announcement:
It's on her website, so it's gotta be true.
I want it to be true. If only based upon the fact that this is a woman who can be referred to, simply as "Hillary" and the world automatically know's who you're talking about. Well, those over the age of 16, anyone younger will automatically think "Duff"
"OMG, Hillary Duff is taking her stuff to the White House? Totally isn't surprising, I mean, she has like a clothing line, perfume, acting career and an amazing singing career. And, she's like so pretty! I mean, she totally can win!"
Yes, Hillary Duff as president would be a futile excercise in pink on white. Honestly, she's NO Elle Woods!
Okay, let's back to the real Hilster's
FACTS:
love her or hate her, polls suggest 1 in 3 would not vote for the former First Lady and sassy female senator for 6 years! However, she's in the front running to lead the Democrats in the election race. However, in it all, there isn't an American who doesn't know who she is and hasn't an opinion on her.
PURE AWESOMENESS:
Hillary is hitting an online chat to ask Americans how they would suggest putting America back on track. Starting on the 22nd and 7pm EST Hillary is having a national discussion and if you want in, you need to register
WRAP UP:
Yeah, Hillary is a woman, and if anyone is familiar with the political climate of the United States, you know, it's a real possibility she will not get elected if only based upon her gender. But, we can't be so quick to discredit her. We are talking about Hillary Clinton, though she's best known as Bill Clinton's wife, and her failed attempt at reforming the health care system, she also is the woman that won over New York. A state she wasn't even from. She even convinced uber conservative populations in upstate NY that she was a fabulous candidate.
Let's forget about her support of military action in Iraq and remember she's a hard line opposition to Gee Double-ya's idiocracy... Democrazy...
Hillary Clinton, first female President of the United States.
Savior of all.
Americans you better vote good this time. Last time you f*ck'd us all up.
Friday, January 19, 2007
I remembered when I was younger and I had ideas that I would be the most fab VJ on Much Music (oh and how I would have been. But, they've changed.)
So I committed to memory the correct spelling of George Stroumboulopoulos' last name in case that would've been a question they would've asked.
Well, they didn't ask me that.
They asked me what would I ask Paris Hilton. I and while I contemplated asking Paris to spell George's last name, I went with "Have you ever stayed in a hotel that wasn't a Hilton?"
Watching her spell is probably akin to watching a Parrot contemplate Chaucer.
Thursday, January 18, 2007
I think there are a lot of fab things that have come my way in my life and only now do I realize they came my way through hard work and persaverance.
The first day I realized this was back in grade 2. The science fair was coming up and I worked with my sister to put together the best project on the solar system that ever existed. Complete with styrophoam planets.
Make no mistake, my pony tails, toothy grin and pinfore dress might have made me look sweeter than a muffin, but I would've cut them if I didn't get some Sci Fi lovin'.
Not only did I rule that fair, I owned it! First place!
I should've seen how that was the perfect example of my life. I would never just fall into opportunity, I had to work for it. Because, after the Science Fair, was the music. Every ribbon I won, every audition I earned and even my B.Mus I got after 4 years of intense study. Can you believe, I never fit in with the other conservatory students. I wore the black hoodies, I was tall, I listened to rock music and I would lock myself in a practice room and sing whole operas just for myself.
I loved my music, not that it was because it was the only thing I could do. I did it because I love it. Maybe that's why I didn't fit in, the other students saw my interests and talents could reach further than the conservatory. But, I had to work hard to graduate, again, nothing came to me easily. I took summer courses and overloads in the winter so I could graduate on time.
Then I moved to Toronto. I came here to be the new fresh face of opera. I was going to be the rock and roll opera diva, and then pageants happened. If you've read my previous posts you understand how I willingly sold my soul to be the chaste and virginal goddesses of beauty and poise.
Now my days as Miss Toronto are well in the past, and I see my future ahead of me. I'm a committee member at the Canadian Opera Company, I'm reworking an aria with beats to sing at a Versace fashion show, I finished filming a music show, a film, a netradio segment, I'm constantly doing photo shoots and the writing is going well. So although I have yet to finish my template, people still come to read my blog.
Things are moving for me, and I hope it's because I'm working hard for them. I'm planning to go back to school and take journalism so I can sharpen my skills, and I would do that even if I did get my big break.
I might not be the rock and roll opera diva, but, I think it's entirely possible that I'll be the rock and roll A&E diva.
Art inspires, I just want to take it to a leval that would inspire a community, a province and a nation.
I can sleep later, right now I have to get back to working hard.
Boys?
ahahahahaha
yeah.
likely.
no guy I met understands the passion I have for music, art, my world and myself.
She was once an 8 year old tending to Buffalo, then she went missing. 19 years later she's caught after stealing food. She's now walking like a monkey, speaking no intelligent language and carrying on like a child of the jungle.
The only one that recognized her was her father.
And, now that the touching reunion is pretty much over, what's going to happen to her next? Her father is going to let her go and return her to the wild.
Of course he is.
"Go! Get on! No one wants you anymore!!," choking back tears, "I hate you! You're the worst daughter ever!", picks up a rock and throws it at her,"Stop looking at me like that, just get!"
19 years seperated and I guess the novelty has warn off.
Thank you BBC!
Kids, you want a rant? I'll give you a rant. I'm going to tell you about the most frustra
Enter Beck Taxi.
Landmark because of their colour. Landmark because of their inability to arrive on time.
Oh, but, KC isn't done yet my muffin butts. After waiting close to 60 minutes for a taxi cab to arrive I am at my wits end.
I mean, I have learned a lot, I learned that crack IS wack after waiting 45 minutes on the corner of Shuter and Sherbourne for a Beck Taxi to show. Obviously, mistaken for Sistren, a crack whore engaged me in conversation about her cat, Twinkle, that was dead for a few days before she realized it.
Thanks Beck.
I called the owner, and I got no reply.
This morning, I learned that if a cab doesn't show, dispatchers can only say "It'll be there any second" and will continue to do so up to 60 minutes.
60 Minutes! I could've walked to my destination faster, AND, saved the $8 fare.
Now, I'm pissed and I'm on a mission to find out why consumers are constantly at the receiving end of a corporate spanking from Beck. Gail Beck-Souter the cab company's owner has an inability to reply to calls. She also has cleverly removed empowerment from the hands of her dispatchers who are most likely to field calls from disgruntled consumers.
Therefore, when your cab doesn't show (Which considering my recent track record with Beck is a 80% chance), you can call dispatch, however, you will get no answers, you will get no compensation, you will get nothing. If the cab arrives, you will be expected to pay, there is no renumeration for the inconvenience that Beck provides.
So where is the accountability to the consumer and the incentive to have the best service possible? It does not exist! Failing to show Taxis are not allowed to field calls for up to 1 hour, but, that is no apology to the inconvenienced consumer.
No, my friends, just bend over and accept the fact that Gail Beck-Souter and her league of Taxi Minions will be pleased to sodomize you for a fee.
I'm going to find Gail. I'm going to talk to Gail. I'm going to sort this out.
KC is on a mission.
In the meantime, Royal Taxi is a reliable service to use instead of Beck.
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
Make it mandatory.
Think you can get away with dictating how people should live?
Well, suck it!
I'm turning the tables and I'm telling you how to live your life, and I want you to commit to a same sex marriage.
Don't like it? Doesn't feel right? Maybe you feel like you're betraying yourself?
Now you know what it's like to live a lie.
Are you ready to legalize same sex marriages now?
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
Yeah, sure, when you hear about 9/11 you're always asked "Where were you?" well, I was in Paris. But, really does my geographic location on the date of the the most traumatizing event of the 21st century provide the world with a reason for the crime?
Ummmmm... no...
In fact, if you research the date, you find a lot information, except the all important: Why?
Don't try and tell me to look a the The 9/11 Commission Report or to philosophize that the event was preventable. Besides the fact that neither really provide any true answers. The report describes in great detail the how the event happened and to sit back in philosophize is not only gory, but, it's not very productive is it.
Oh you want some philosophy now?
Fine.
The popular believe for why the events happened revolve around the idea that the terrorists are "Crazy" that they are "Insane" and they want to destroy the American way of life because they hold it in such contempt. So while, it might feel great to dismiss the terrorists as being nutso and to demonize them through a perceived mental inbalance one has to realize that it still doesn't provide the catalyst.
Well, how about best selling author Dinesh D'Souza and his controversial book The Enemy at Home. In this book, D'Souza refuses to believe the popular claim that the terrorists are just simply insane and blames the events of 9/11 on the "Cultural Left"
Democrats and Liberals, I can hear you having kittens.
Just chill.
D'Souza believes that it is the secular progressive left, the movies, the media, the allies in Congress, the Universities and the non profit sector *gasp* *sigh* that are dedicated to promoting the ideals of Western secular culture as the framework of a utopian existance. And, this, my friends is what's starting to piss people off.
American foreign policy, not really pissing people off as much.
American's destructing Iraq, eh, that's annoying, but, we know you're doing it for the oil.
American's forcing their leftist values of democracy, gay marriage, pornography, abortions, etc on the world like it's a fetish to a dying man.
Woah... THAT'S IT!
Did someone say pornography?
We can tolerate your bombs, your guns, your support for regimes that ruin the lives of many, heck with love your McDonald's and Coca Cola, but, we don't like your porn.
It's the blond hair and fake titties isn't it?
Okay, here's KC's deconstruction... Although, D'Souza's book makes some interesting arguments, take what you will from it. I think to believe that the 9/11 attacks arose out of internationally promoting American values and shoving them down the world's throat, is a little extreme.
However, what I do like is D'Souza taking the time to try and understand the Muslim point of view and to truly take the time to see what it is that they don't like about American culture: American Imperialism.
D'Souza's book is not only refreshingly appauling, it is a book that I feel should be mandatory reading, if only for the book's power to provoke.
You can check out an exerpt here
I came across this blog and that's when I realize I really have no sense of humour
K-Dough's Canada
There's brilliance there.
I'm stealing his skeez.
suck it.
I just thought it was pretty.
The sky was dark blue, orange and white. The buildings are silhouettes with lit windows.
It made me smile, because when I started to think about it, what appears to be the white light of daylight is shining out of Mississauga... or maybe it is Brampton.
Because, if you're an observant traveller, you do realize that:
"All Roads Lead to Brampton"
Oh Perry, we wanted to know what happened to you after you were pushed out of Jane's Addiction.
That was so unfair.
You're a smart guy, what with Lollapalooza under your belt. You're creativity has long been under acknowledged, and now, you have Satellite Party.
Which isn't a band at all.
Perry described to MTV that it's actually a musical. Go figure, occasionally musicians like to create immense musical bodies of work that illustrate a story line. See The Who's Tommy, see Pink Floyd's The Wall, David Bowie's Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust, hell, even Green Day's American Idiot was a concept album that followed the story of "Jesus of Suburbia".
No, concept albums are not new, however, Farrell's concept is still different. Besides the album was originally going to be released back in the end of 2006, it's only now a project that's getting a marginal iota of additional press.
The Black Eyed Peas' Fergie will appear on three of the self-titled disc's 13 tracks, Porno for Pyros guitarist Peter DiStefano, Joy Division/ New Order bassist Peter Hook and Red Hot Chili Peppers John Frusciante and Flea. Jack Irons, the Peppers' original drummer (and Pearl Jam's subsequent one) is also on the scene.
Yep it's a star studded hootenany. Farrell is bringing it all together. Performance will debut at the upcoming 2 day Lollapalooza event in Chicago this summer.
My favorite thing is that Farrell acts as if his concept is so ground breaking since he will incorporate sets and make it purely theatrical.
Music nerds like myself are intrigued, but, realise, it's far from innovative.
Keeping Fergie from wetting herself on stage, no THAT's innovative.
Monday, January 15, 2007
It's no secret that many moons ago I competed in pageants. It was a bittersweet experience to try and live up to the rigid rules yet still maintain a sense of self. Needless to say, parts of my personality had to be supressed in order to successfully complete the 7-10 day ordeals.
Do you know what it's like to wake up at 5am in the morning just so you can put on false eyelashes for a trip to the ROM? Neither did I until I competed in Miss Universe Canada.
In fact, prior to the 5am calls and fake smiles, I had to meet with pageant organizer Denis Davila to discuss my potential to compete in what would have been my first pageant.
He was quick to assess me, from the weight I had to lose on my hips, to the bleaching my teeth would require. However, what was most confusing would have been when Denis asked me if I had any nude photos or anything that would ever compramise the reputation of the organization should I be crowned Miss Universe Canada.
That's when I began to think, "What narrow opinion of empowerment do pageants try to promote?" The chaste and virginal ingenue is the stuff of conformist myths that 1950's upheld and have most definitly lost integrity, especially after women's liberation.
Guidelines to compete in many pageants include rules that restrict behaviour that is deemed acceptable in Western culture. Being married, having a marriage annulled, living with a partner, pregnancy, even termination of a previous pregnancy, and history of working in the sex trade, or posing for nude images/videos are all frowned upon.
Yep, no powerful tales of overcoming the odds for these kids.
Squeaky clean.
Chaste.
Virginal.
Perfect specimins who relinquish their right to act independantly to the pageant director.
This is modern day pageants! No wonder they are huge in 3rd world countries where women's lib is but a twinkle in an oppressed woman's eye! There is an activity that brings forward demure and easily molded women who signed legally binding contracts that attests their chaste status.
So what happens when Miss New Jersey gets pregnant, she has to hand over her crown.
Miss Nevada was stripped of her crown when nudie shots of her appeared on the internet. Yes, the pun was intended. And, of course Miss Nevada would have a sexy past, she's MISS NEVADA! Hello, home of the most lax sex trade laws in the United States! If she didn't have some nudiness then she probably wouldn't be a very good representative, would she?
Miss USA nearly was busted for underaged drinking, but, she saved her crown with the promise of going to rehab.
Listen up, I think pageants are ridiculous for their inability to evolve with the times. Simply giving the girls a voice to travel around the world and talk about AIDS isn't empowering enough. To punish women for engaging in the act women are designed to do is truly insulting. To punish women for any of the actions of their youth, is appauling.
To act as though single women without children, without a colourful past and without youthful passion, are the perfect young ladies. I beg to differ.
They are chaste.
They are naive.
But, they are not empowered.
They are tools of a patriarch, and his name is Trump.
He owns the corporation and the women.
Bitches, you ain't no man's slave. Go forth, live with your boyfriends, eat, smoke pot and take photos while you f*ck. You are human. Act like it!
Oh lord allmighty, deciding to create your own template is much tougher then you would ever think.
As you can see, there is still so much to be done!! This was the days work but I had to finish come 10ish.
There needs to be space for podcasts, fabulous links and more wonderful things.
No, the images are not staying.
I don't want hate mail because my template is half up.
Oh man, I had to post this. I love it when my web travels direct me to a gem of a website. I'm a little bit in love with vintage pop culture, so did I nearly die and go to heaven when I came across the following videos on You Tube.
God, I love YouTube!
Back in the day, kids called STD's VD and malinformed advertisers were eager to create PSAs with confused messages in order to educate the public.
I'm glad the advertisers were stopped before "Kissing Makes Teens Pregnant" was released.
On a side note, I felt bad for not having VD as well.
Squeezing Charming was all the rage, and Mr. Whipple liked it too.
No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop the women from congregating in his shop just to squeeze Charmin and to sniff the intoxicating odour.
Obviously bleach and chemically treated paper products was a heady scent ready to turn house wives into nymphocidal fetishists.
And, since you're all hot and bothered from the VD and the TP, let's bring it on home with an Striptease.
Really, is there anything more that I can say?
For more vintage tv ads, click on over to TV Party!
Have you ever had the pleasure of a Donair?
The sweet white sauce pooling in the crevaces of spit roasted meat wrapped in pita.
If you think you know what a donair is then ask yourself, "Do I live in Grecoville?" if you cannot answer yes, then you don't know what a Donair is.
Kids, in an effort to help coolify the streets of Toronto, I want you to gather around, get cozy, and kick back on a journey that will change your life. You are about to embark on an epic journey into Donair Deliciousness.
From here on in, there is no looking back. For this is truly the food of the Gods! Well, Karmacake, which is pretty darned close.
What is it?
Once upon a time in a land of Nova Scotia in the Kingdom of Halifax was a small eatery located on Quinpool Road known only as "The King of Donair". The King was a monarch who worked tirelessly to feed his subjects, especially those who arose only in the wee hours of the dimly lit morn to feed upon morsols of dough, cheese and tomato sauce.
One day the king had an epiphany, "I will create a sandwich, nay, a pita wrap based upon ancestral victuals. It will be sweet AND savoury. It will be mostly meat to sustain the ravenous bellies of the sketchy post club drunkards. It will ease the hunger of those hung over. It will satiate the busy, the poor, the studious. It will be delicious, debatably nutricious and it will be called: Donair"
So set forth The King to create a secret sauce, some rumour the original recipe was created from evaporated milk, some stand by sweetened condensed milk, garlic powder and vinegar. We may never know the contents of the original sauce, and truthfully, we don't want to, for The King is great and his sauce greater.
From then on, Donair stands popped up. The sauce was no longer limited to the pita wrap but was to be used as a dipping sauce for garlic fingers and pizza crusts. Some used it on hamburgers, others slathered it on pizza dough instead of tomato sauce. It spread quickly to the far reaches of the Atlantic provinces and for the first time in decades, Donair replaced fish as a staple in Maritimer's diets.
It is yet unknown whether Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II has yet to sample Donair.
You Want to Try it?
And, as you should!
Click here for an older post that explains how to make donair sauce at home.
Garlic Fingers are pretty no brainers to make. McCain makes frozen Garlic Fingers you can buy in the grocery. You can make them the same way you would to start a pizza but spread garlic butter on the dough and top with cheese. When cooked slice into fingers and dip that shit into yo' sauce.
Donairs... now that's special. There are a few Greco locations in Ontario, I prefer their donair to Pizza Delight which makes a screwed up bastardization of the original treat.
Brampton, Ontario, Hunny's, Hunny's, Queen Street East
Toronto, Ontario, Daily News & Coffee, Keele Street
You want more Click Here
More Donair Links:
The Greatness
My Favorite Donair Page... Through Harvard Uni... I know, Donair transcends borders
Sunday, January 14, 2007
Justin Timberlake and Cameron Diaz are through.
George stroumboulopoulos is charged with resurrecting the CBC.
Justin Trudeau might run for leadership.
Karmacake just writes another blog.
Journalistic integrity to return later this evening, promise.
Thanks for reading. KC is getting the most hits ever with the highest percentage of returning visitors ever.
Love you all.
Especially when you leave more comments!
Saturday, January 13, 2007
I was called in for a 10am rehearsal. Apparently, I'm not the courtesan anymore. Oh well, I'll be the best damn volunteer understudy ever.
Yeah, I really am an understudy for the part.
After my whole 5 minutes on stage were over with, I decided to walk home. Feeling a little down over the loss of a role I guess I never had in the first place, I felt that a peameal sandwich was the pick me up that I needed.
It is Saturday, which is the day to go to St. Lawrence Market and of course the one thing you have to do at SLM is get peameal on a bun.
Too much with the italics, wasn't it?
As I walked through the market doors I immediately felt recharged. I forgot all about the silly opera and a rare sense of community that bustled infront of me, coaxed my soul a little further out of its funk.
Families, couples, students, artists and elderly on their weekly ritual of indulging in the market's bounty were puposefully filling their carts with some of the best that the local food producers could offer.
And, then there was I.
Ye ol' Karma to the Cake, feelings the pangs of hunger rock my body (punishment for skipping breakfast) moved in a hurried beeline towards the stand. No one will stand between myself and sugar cured ham rolled in cornmeal and served on a soft yeast scented bun. Perhaps I took victims on my mission, that period from the front door to the first bite were a blur. Except for what seemed like the sea of people parted infront of the peameal stand and a woman with a big smile was ready to exchange peameal for my cash.
Piety children.
Piety.
I gots m'peameal, so let's blow this joint and head home!
I walked down stairs, past the veal parmesan stand, and in a moment I came face to face with a ghost of my ex. I had to get out, my newly levened soul was feeling pressed.
I took a bite, of my sandwich, I needed it's salvation now. Alas, it was missing something, I looked up and my eyes caught the aviator sunglasses covered glance of a handsome guy. We exchanged smiles and in a second my soul was freed along with the ghosts.
Destination: Home!
From St. Lawrence Market to Yonge Dundas Square was little more than eating peameal and enjoying the Madonna as the soundtrack to my walk home. Come Yonge Dundas was my favorite street artist chalking up another work of art on the sidewalk and these lovely girls offering free hugs.
Inspired by Juan Mann (pseudonym), the creator of the Free Hugs Campaign, these two ladies were on a mission to brighten everyone's day with some random acts of kindness. I refrained from hugging them in an effort not to infect them with a cold. Random acts of kindness do not include efficient spread of disease.
I've included the video of Juan Mann for all to view. To date, Free Hugs Campaign on YouTube have gotten over 8 million hits since September 2006. Which begs me to wonder how Lonelygirl15 got to the VH1 Big in '06 over this. This video is lovelier and has a much more profound impact on its viewers then Jessica Rose's interpretation of a 15 year old coming of age.
Hugs break down barriers.
We all need a little love.
And, these two ladies, were the charming cherry on what turned out to be one sweet sunny sundae of a saturday day!
If you want to go and get some hugs, run on down to Y&D they are probably still there!
Hate to inform you good kind folks out there, this is a blog. And, by virtue of that honour, I get to blog about me sometimes.
Which is after all, my favorite topic.
So I'm a Supernumerary in an upcoming opera with the Canadian Opera Company. Faust, to be exact. The tale of the great thinker that dedicated his life to thinking, so he commits his soul to the devil only to live his life again, but this timw with passion.
Of course, insane amounts of hilarity ensues. Usually that's what happens in these little operas, an irreversable decision is made, a clown is killed with a crucifix, and after the giant orgiastic puppet couples folks off, a teenage girl gets pregnant, and although, the her
o manages to get away from a sea of horny courtesans, he still is dragged back to hell and subsequently is dead.
You know, light subject matter. Good for the kids, really.
I play a Commedia Dell'Arte clown that looks like a milkmaid. I also might play the role of the skantily clad courtesan, but, I think another girl is doing that one now.
It's always fun to see an Opera come together from the other point of view. The perso
nalities of the principals versus the chorus, the stage management staff and the props dudes, the dancers and the supers. At the same time, everyone feels a different level of ownership over the show.
And, although, I'm singing at a Fashion Show Fundraiser and not on stage with the COC, I just feel happy that someone recognizes my talent.
Sing for the soul and not for my supper.
Friday, January 12, 2007
"Ass Down, Pillow Up
This is how we F*ck You Up!"
Just overlook the fact that I rhymed "Up" with the same word in the next line.
I'm ready and I'm pumped! It's here, it's huge, and it's all the rage! The most iconic of all chick fights, the grandmama of them all has gotten a sassy new make over and it's hitting a ring near you! Can you handle the brutal wrath of THE PILLOW FIGHT!?
The Pillow Fight League (PFL) is quickly becoming one of the hottest events to take over the metropolis of Toronto. Why? It's pure entertainment! Men come and indulge in the live manefestation of your pubescent fantasies. Women revell in one of the only entertainment sports where men aren't allowed in the ring.
They all might be featherweights but that doesn't mean they can't bring in the heavy.
Face it, boys play fight in the school yard, they punch, they kick, they draw a crowd and get into trouble. What if I told you that girls fight too! I don't want to brag, but, I think we're much more strategic in our frays. We choose to arm ourselves with pillows so that hits are muffled, as are the cries of our victims from the ears of our guardful parents or guardians. As long as people think pillow fights are sweet, then we can continue our uniquely sadistic form of fem-battle.
We've honed our skills over years of girl's nights and slumber parties only to set them aside once we became adults. Thankfully, Stacey P. Case, PFL's saucy Commish has resurrected the passtime as a vixenish martial art only to be duked out in the ring.
I would love to be apart of it except I don't think I could handle one small detail: I don't like to get hit.
So I might never make it into the league, but that's okay! Since the leagues conception in 2004, it has grown to include an impressive roster of 14 PFL fighters, all of whome are prepared to take a punch. PFL is also releasing a DVD, they boast sold out fights, tons of press and they even were invited to take their unique brand of pillow fighting roller-derby to last year's Power Ball.
But, from what I've read and from what I've seen, it is defintly far from a pubescent boy's wet dream. There's nothing overtly sexual about the fights, the girls get in the ring to win. And, to win, they mean by any means necessary... with the exception of eye-gouging, biting, scratching, hair pulling, or low blows. Oh! And, most definitly no loading your case with foreign objects like bricks.
... it doesn't say anything about lacing the pillows with ether though... hmmm, I might be the next pillow fight queen.
Check out this video of Champain VS Boozy Suzy, yeah, the fighters all adopt clever nicknames and alter egos.
I've got my name! Frow SpinStar. German name is cold, the Frau embellishes the OW, and the play on Spinster shows that I have nothing to lose and that I am a star regardless!
If I avoid the blows then I won't get hit. It's brilliant!
Thursday, January 11, 2007
I first saw "Dick in a Box" and it was kind of funny/entertaining.
Now, the girls bite back with our own kinder gentler prettier version.
Behold: My Box in a Box
Yet again, Simon Cowell feels empowered to offer his opinion on why non-manufactured pop sensations are not entertaining and this time he uses Bob Dylan as an example.
According to Cowell, Dylan "Bores him to tears" and that he doesn't think Dylan type performers "...would make American Idol a better show." And, of course, Cowell prefers Kelly Clarkson to Bob Dylan.
Of course.
People are entitled to their own opinions, but, I'm surprised that Cowell cannot even bring himself to recognize the appeal of Bob Dylan's music. I suppose I shouldn't be shocked, Cowell isn't exactly known for his diverse musical tastes and perpetually thrives on the success of his multiple reality tv ventures, the latest being "America's Top Inventor", the subject matter of which is obviously self explanatory.
He may hide behind brill cream slicked hair of middle european crooners of Popera group "Il Divo", and the unabashed yodelling of Kelly Clarkson's squeaky clean interpretation of Christina's Dirrrty personae.
But, musical connesseur he is not.
In a unsurprisingly British move, Cowell stereotypes his American audience to prefer a show of Clarkson's over Dylans. However, at age 65 Dylan's album Modern Times entered the charts at #1 making Dylan the oldest living person to top the charts. Obviously, more Americans dig the poetic socially charged themes of Dylan's music then Cowell is prepared to accept.
We're all entitled to our opinions, however, to compare Dylan and Clarkson is just a tragedy in itself. Dylan shares more qualities that can be compared more to Cowell himself. With opinions and a voice that cannot be silenced, Dylan questioned the role US National Civil Liberties Committee and even claimed that we all could see ourselves in the assasin Lee Harvey Oswald - MOMENTS after accepting an award from them.
Cowell accused his mother of looking like a poodle when he was a child.
Simon has so much to say but little is actually said.
Jax is off job hunting, and I declined because I need to do some tidying up. Namely in my bedroom.
I would rather be outside, it looks gorgeous.
*sigh*
Before I go and clean, read this and then read the blog that spawned this response:
Your path of thought is honourable albeit flawed in its brash allegations.
To find Toronto publications accountable for supporting the sex trade of runaways and broken women is quite the accusation.
Publications sell advertising.
Advertising supports the paper.
It is an unreasonable expectation to place upon the publications to ask them to research and to try to identify the missing children apparently lured into the sextrade.
That is not their mandate, their mandate is to exist, to report and to survive. For the publications to research their advertisers to find unwilling sextrade workers would be to admit that they are advertising prostitutes.
Which sir is illegal.
Hands are tied from the need for revenue, and the necessity to look the other way.
I am indifferent to the advertising of sextrade workers. They have existed since the dawn of time. But, obviously you are not. No doubt, right now you are engaged in an passionate search to reunite mother’s with their wayward daughters.
If you are not, then I count you as a hypocrite and will disregard your meandering blog as nothing more than righteous spewings from an armchair activist.
Comment by karmacake — January 11, 2007
Karmacake is back, and she's taking no prisoners!
Drama Drama everywhere!
In the Bathroom and under stairs
I stuffed my face because I am poor
I love this Castle & Trafalgar 24.
Have you ever dreamed about being locked in a 19th century castle with only 12 hours to write a play? What if the castle is potentially haunted and the play will be performed 24 hours after pen first hits paper?
WELL NOW IS YOUR CHANCE!
Driftwood Theatre Group is now aiding and abetting theatre professionals down for this challenge at their annual fundraiser and theatre creation event, Trafalgar 24. If you are a writer, actor, director, stage manager, technical support or administrative junky, they want to hear from you.
This is probably one of the most unique events I have ever seen and worked on. For artists, it is a marathon challenge. For theatre goers the night is an adventure that lies in their own hands. Armed with little more than a map, they set out to experience the theatre taking place all around them.
Then mingle with the artists lubricated with wine, sated by dessert, enriched by art and gratified by supporting Canadian theatre.
If you want to participate or buy tickets Phone: 416-466-3843 or email: mail@driftwoodtheatre.com
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
I had a group of friends over the other day and we had a delicious dinner.
Some couldn't make it, obviously thinking that they were going to miss out on a generic holiday meal.
Oh no.
no. no.
As the ethnic women before me, I posses omnipotent culinary prowess undoubtedly gifted upon me by The Gods.
Just goes to show the world, I am awesome.
Now, I just need to work on the tv career.
2007 and it's about time that Karmacake got a little spunk.
After I surfed other folk's blogs (I mean, the popular ones, and the ones that George Strombo seems to dig) I came to the conclusion that Karmacake is just as good and lacked punch.
I'm ready to tackle pop culture with irreverent wit and heartless acerbism.
My arms are open, Love Me!
