The Leather Pants - Date 6

One girl's misadventures in online dating: Date 6 - Tom (but a different one, hilariously named Tom 2 in my phone)

One day, during my daily matches, I was clearly in a very good mood or had my judgment impaired, because I had said I was interested in Tom 2 and then followed up with an email. No, this was not a rare occurrence, but when I went back to look at his profile before meeting him on Friday, I couldn't figure out why I would have given him a check mark or sent him a message. I found myself hoping that it was for his glowing personality because his looks weren't doing it for me. Sure, he had a friendly face and a nice set of teeth, but he was on the larger side of chubby, wore cowboy boots everywhere, and was in general not my type. Needless to say, my hopes were not high when I showed up on Friday and because of Thursday's date with Chas, I had almost cancelled. 

Tom 2 and I met at a coffee shop in a trendy part of town at 7 pm on Friday. Why these men want caffeine so late in the day is beyond me. We went in to order drinks and I had no clue what to get in this fancy coffee shop so I ordered a plain chai tea. What I received was some sort of milk concoction that was super sweet, it also cost $6! Which he paid, but it was the principle of ordering a $6 tea that had me outraged. We got our drinks to go and walked down by the river for a bit and chatted. Conversation didn't flow easily, again! He seemed nice enough, but we had nothing in common. He was into country music, I'm into hip hop and R&B. He liked to frequent the country bars in our town, I prefer house music and dancing. He was into fishing and hunting, I'm into live animals and almost cried last weekend when I thought I hit a squirrel in my car. 

Here's what happened with the squirrel: I was driving to meet my friends for a casual fall hike and I was on a street that had two lanes when a squirrel darted into my path! Usually I would slam on my brakes or swerve into the next lane, but there was someone following closely behind me and someone in the lane next to me. So I closed my eyes and kept driving. Poor squirrel, I'm so sorry. When I told my friends about the squirrel incident, they assured me that had I hit the squirrel, I would have felt a bump in the car, which I didn't. YAY! He lived! But, I digress ... 

We continued our walk along the river and he spat on the sidewalk. Twice. It was vile. This is a disgusting habit and is actually illegal in certain cities. It was also, despite his other shortcomings, his ultimate downfall. 

Luckily this crazy storm came out of nowhere, going inside meant no more spitting! He suggested we run to OJs for a drink instead of staying out in the storm. I was so excited for alcohol at this point, I quickly ordered liquor and he ordered NON-ALCOHOLIC BEER WITH ORANGE JUICE. Umm, what? 1. Who puts juice in their beer? Let alone orange juice? 2. Non-alcoholic beer. I have no words. He then talked about non-alcoholic beer for an extended period of time and told me about how he still has a great time while not drinking, and while I respect that as a lifestyle choice that one can make, it is not a choice that I have made for myself. Recovering alcoholic? Maybe, but don't invite someone for drinks if you don't intend to drink ...

Remember when I told you that I hate being lied to? This was another betrayal from the dating site, because one of the options a person can click is how much or how often they drink. I chose an option along the lines of "casual drinker" and "evening out with friends", meaning I enjoy a drink or two, but don't necessarily need to drink to excess.  Tom 2 could have easily chosen "I don't drink", which would have been a valuable heads-up before our date. 

I was very clearly done with this date, so I told him about all the work I had to do at home and how I couldn't do it over the weekend because of a volleyball tournament. He paid the bill and we left. Unfortunately he insisted on walking me to my car, which I had parked miles away. We walked and he suggested we meet up again before he leaves for work, I thought I did a good job saying no, but when I got home I had a text from him saying how much fun he had and that he hoped he could take me on a second date before leaving. I had to tell him that I didn't feel a connection, and I felt bad about it later. 

All in all, not my worst online date, but not my best either. I'm beginning to think that all of these "relationships" that sites brag have started online must be between two people who are more open-minded than I am. I will keep you updated on my progress in this regard.

Love Sack Murda

Christmas Is So Magical.

Guest Blogger: Tall Skinny Giraffe (because I'm the opposite right now haha)

My husband, bless him, loves Christmas. Like, absolutely loves Christmas and everything that comes with it. Freshly cut Christmas trees, decorations, scented candles, baby Jesus, outdoor pond hockey, Christmas movies, Christmas music, presents, family dinners with turkey...I could go on for a full page.

So for Christmas this year, he decided to get tickets to the local theatre's A Christmas Carol and give them to his whole family. It was supposed to be a magical outing, full of peace and joy. We were both looking forward to it. The one thing we didn't factor in is that his whole family all together is, well, um...less than magical.

First we went out for dinner. We took Grandpa M, Grandpa R and Grandma. They all cannot hear. Grandma's hearing aids were either broken or lost, we couldn't determine which. Grandpa M loves to make really lame jokes with waitresses, who in turn feel very awkward and aren't sure if he's being serious or joking, and if so, should they laugh? Smile? Take him seriously? And if they say anything in return, he can't hear it! So it becomes a vicious circle very quickly.

Grandpa M also hates pepper. He feels it is extremely offensive and rude of the chef to include pepper in the French onion soup, or the salmon main course, or the potato sides. HOW RUDE AND INCONSIDERATE CAN THEY BE?!

So by the end of the meal in a full house restaurant, our nerves were already on edge because we'd had to yell across the table to the three old folks sitting opposite, disturbing other guests in the process. We had to do damage control with the waitress, re-order pepper-less food for Grandpa M, make sure everyone got to and from the car without falling, ensure Grandma's oxygen tank was actually on so she wouldn't die, remind her to pace herself as she literally gulped her glass of house white, re-interpret for each of them so they would understand each other, and make sure that we finished in time to get to the play through snowy winter driving conditions.

Anyway, we packed everyone up and actually made it inside the theatre before they locked the doors! Phew! There was a row of young children in front of us. I thought, "Great, they will probably be loud and obnoxious and ruin the whole experience for us." You know what? Those kids were as good as gold. But the old person sitting next to me who couldn't figure out the assisted hearing device and then yelled-while the play was in full swing-"IT'S NOT WORKING!" or, "THAT'S BETTER!" when I fixed it for him (again). Oh my, that was loud and obnoxious.

My husband got stuck next to his sister, who is pregnant with the worst recorded pregnancy of all time and is sick with a life-threatening cold. Her constant groaning, shifting, muttering, coughing, sighing, sniffling and general misery did nothing to enhance the experience for my poor, Christmas-loving hubby, who by this point was regretting this magical evening altogether.

The two other grandparents, stationed in the handicap area, insisted on having periodic discussions (arguments?) with their assisted hearing devices in their ears, so they could not hear each other but everyone around them could hear every single word. The rest of our family were trapped in the middle section of the row so we could do nothing but slouch in our seats in embarrassment and mutter to the other guests around us, "Who are those people??"

Did I mention that I am eight months pregnant and cannot drink? Fun times. My mother-in-law and father-in-law, who deal with this on a daily basis and have no capacity for any further stress in their lives had given up on the old folks for the evening, and were calmly sipping their amazing-looking red wine next to me.

When the night was done, and everyone safely home, I reflected on what makes Christmas and family "magical". Well, let's be honest. Magical does not mean perfect. We all have a level of dysfunction and discord among us, and I'm not perfect either-although I'd like to think so. The capacity to love and forgive each other, despite our faults, is what makes Christmas magical and amazing. There is nowhere else we'd rather be on Christmas day than with our families, despite the fact that they can be difficult, neurotic, annoying and obnoxious. We love them all the same.

Merry Christmas!!

Em for Movies - Star Wars: The Force Awakens

I saw Star Wars: The Force Awakens on opening weekend, though I’m not sure how. I am not a proper Star Wars geek. I didn’t book tickets in advance, I didn’t show up particularly early, I didn’t dress up or spend an inordinate amount of money. In a bid to reach maximum audience and properly shatter every box office record, nearly every screen in the gigantic multiplex was showing the same movie, and even with its staggering popularity, Star Wars hadn’t sold out. At least not literally.

As part of a franchise and a Disney product, you can’t honestly expect an original film. I didn’t. But, wide-eyed optimist that I am, I hoped.

Scientists seem reasonably certain that there is a great deal of universe out there beyond our atmosphere. Thus, space is the setting for some truly amazing tales of imagination and wonder. A saga of epic proportions set in worlds light-years from our own has the potential to bring so many new vistas, creatures, characters and situations. The Force Awakens didn’t have any of these. In what amounted to nearly a scene-for-scene recreation of the original Star Wars (A New Hope), we were presented with practically nothing we haven’t seen before. As though each successful element of the previous six movies was printed on the side of a ping pong ball, pulled at random from a cage and the movie was judged complete when a die-hard Star Wars fanboy/screenwriter shouted “Bingo!” in a paroxysm of delight. Whether the filmmakers were feeling nostalgic, or simply risk-averse, it hardly matters. Copy. Paste. Success.

To be fair, some things were improved upon. The special effects were quite impressive. The audience laughed, cried, ooohed and aaahed right on cue. The recipe seemed to have worked. After all, practice makes perfect. So why do I feel so disappointed?

I think they played it safe, and it shows.

I give it a Coors. Good but not great, and somewhat lacking imagination.



Cheers,

Em

Head Over Flats - Andrew

I fell in love with Andrew on a Sunday afternoon. A small group of resident students were in an atrium on campus at the University. I was perched on the edge of a sofa, quietly reading and half-listening to the people around me. As an exercise, I was applying the Bakhtinian theory that I was reading to the conversation of my peers around me.

Andrew was nearby, pontificating to an eager young pup on some obscure variant of Jewish asceticism as a precursor of the Christian monastic tradition. Or something like that. I was only half-listening, after all. I made a note in the margin of my book: “…suspect that authoritative discourse is inevitably present in any dialogue regarding religion, despite the fact that it has been proven to be less effective than internally persuasive discourse.” It made sense to me at the time. I was smarter back then. Or at least, I thought I was.

My friend Emily caught my eye, and rolled hers before returning to her book–a novel. The girl hardly ever cracked a textbook.

Outside, a bright wintery double-reflection of sun and snow made the window a painful white square against the institutional grey around us. I was in a safe, dark corner with an excellent vantage of the scene, and a necessary view of the door.

By midway through the semester, our small group had commandeered the fourth floor atrium through the simple expedient of being friendly, and slightly noisier than the library. The new girl had followed Andrew into our cloister after class, where I assume they’d struck up a conversation, which transitioned seamlessly into a monologue once Andrew got going.

I looked at the door, anticipating the entrance of my boyfriend, Trent. He was late, as usual. I heard the name “Trent,” like someone reading my mind across the room. It was Andrew. He was explaining to the new girl who we all were in concise, authoritative statements.

“Trent is an engineer, but he’ll probably drop out this semester if he doesn’t get his shit together.” I couldn’t disagree. “He rigged those speakers up.” Andrew gestured to the shelf of stereo equipment above my head. We were listening to the soundtrack from the movie Gladiator. I feel like we always listened to either film scores, or Korn.

Andrew continued his observations, “His girlfriend doesn’t say much, but whenever she does, it’s brilliant.”

I looked at him. It was meant to be a glance. He was leaning against the wall on the far side of the room, his shoulders faced the girl but his eyes were fixed on mine. I’d never physically felt anyone looking at me before, it was tactile. Our eye contact lasted an unseemly long time and his conversation continued like he was on autopilot. I was taking notes, without thinking. Meeting his eyes was kinetic, unbalancing. I fell.

Trent walked in.

"Truth is not born nor is it to be found inside the head of an individual person, it is born between people collectively searching for truth, in the process of their dialogic interaction." (Mikhail Bakhtin)

 

Top 5s - Christmas Movies

Emily Statler

1.  A Christmas Story (1983)

Quintessential, hilarious, wonderful. Childhood magic, insightfully mature humour and some of the most iconic Christmas moments distilled into one movie.

2.  Kiss Kiss Bang Bang (2005)

What Christmas is complete without Robert Downey Jr offering rapid-fire acerbic humour in one of my favourite modern noir detective films? It’s how I always picture Christmas in LA-dead people, brilliant dialogue and truly twisted seasonal cheer.

3.  Gremlins (1984)

Every time Johnny Mathis’s “Do You Hear What I Hear?” plays I get chills and expect to be attacked by maniacal green monsters. Gremlins is a great holiday film that reinforces the lessons of responsible gift-giving and caring for your pets as instructed.

4.  The Ref (1994)

The splendid dysfunction and acid-sharp bitterness of The Ref gives me that warm Christmassy feeling that comparatively speaking, my family isn’t really so bad. Incredibly funny.

5.  It’s a Wonderful Life (1946)

This isn’t just on here to prove that I am not a soulless Grinch. While I mostly prefer off-beat dark satire in my Christmas movies, when it comes to my Top 5, it’s not complete without It’s a Wonderful Life. Funny, poignant and so beautiful it hurts, this is one of the best movies of its era, and a classic story of appreciating what you’ve got, because life is wonderful.

Houdani

1.  Miracle on 34^th Street (1947)

It's a classic. My family would curl up under blankets on the couch and eat popcorn and candy. I knew it was Christmas time when this movie came on! And I feel like I'm five again when I watch it now.

2.  Love Actually (2003)

Also a classic! It’s not a typical Christmas story, but I love it anyway. And obviously the music is fantastic (not that I can sing every word of it…)

3.  Dr. Seuss’ How the Grinch Stole Christmas (1966)

Another classic! Seems to be a theme. Not only do you have lessons about being a good person but there is great music (which will be stuck in your head for months) and cute little Whos!!!

4.  Elf (2003)

If I want a good laugh, this is the best one to watch. What would Christmas be without an oversized elf to mess everything up?

5.  Die Hard (1988)

I didn’t realize this was a Christmas movie at first…but it is! And I love the Die Hard movies. Bruce Willis? Action? Danger? Yes, Please!

Fairy Tales and Theory

1.  Dr. Seuss’ How the Grinch Stole Christmas (1966)

I love seeing his cold heart warm. It’s kind of a like a love story for himself.

2.  Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer (1964)

3.  Elf (2003)

4.  A Charlie Brown Christmas (1965)

5.  Home Alone (1990)

Sack Murda

1.  National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation (1989)

There are obvious reasons why I chose this movie: it’s hilarious, Clark Griswold is the original “Dad jokester”, and it’s just funny and heart-warming. On a more personal note, I love this movie because we always watched it as a family while I was growing up and have wonderful memories of it.

Best scene: Squirrel in the tree

2.  Elf (2003)

I feel that this is another obvious choice. I’ve seen this movie every year with my friends from high school. A heart-warming tale of Christmas spirit, made even better by the hilarity that is Will Ferrell. I. Just. Love. It.

Best lines: “Buddy the elf! What’s your favourite colour?”

“I just like to smile, smiling’s my favourite!”

“Good news! I saw a dog today!”

“Watch out, the yellow ones don’t stop!”

3.  Scrooged (1988)

More hilarity á la A Christmas Carol. Solid gold. Another family favourite.

4.  The Night Before (2015)

A new classic I think. I felt the story was heart-warming, I was cheering for the characters to get what they wanted, Joseph Gordon-Levitt was dreamy per usual, Seth Rogan was hilarious per usual, what more could you want?

Best part: Probably the Christmas sweaters and the rap scene.

5.  The Holiday (2006)

This movie is a dumb rom-com and I love it. The old man (Arthur Abbott played by Eli Wallach) is the cutest thing ever to grace the silver screen and makes me want to be a woman of Gumption. Gets me misty-eyed every time.

Best part: delicious 2006 Jude Law

Dee Waldorf

1.  The Ref (1994)

Because it’s frickin funny and my sister recommended it to me.

2.  Die Hard (1988) or Die Hard 2 (1990)

Because every Christmas needs some explosions and mega action star Bruce Willis.

3.  Elf (2003)

The one movie that made me start to like that curly-haired freak by the name of Will Ferrell. Thank you random guy in my anthropology class who told me that I had to watch it. I now own an Elf bobble head and two t-shirts. “Smiling’s my favourite!”

4.  Polar Express (2004)

Because it’s beautiful and it makes my kids happy and I want to ride a train someday.

5.  Harry Potter 1-8 (2001-2011)

Because Christmas is the only time of year I can watch them all nearly back to back to back, and who doesn’t love a spectacular movie marathon!?!

Lizzy Tonnell

1.  The Muppet Christmas Carol (1992)

2.  Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer (1964)

3.  Home Alone (1990)

4.  Elf (2003)

5.  Mole’s Christmas (1994)

Drew Sicola

1.  The Muppet Christmas Carol (1992)

There have been many versions of Dickens’s A Christmas Carol, but this one is my personal favourite. Michael Caine is fantastic as crotchety old miser Ebenezer Scrooge, and there are so many fabulous Muppet moments that make you laugh without losing the moralistic but poignant narrative.

2.  A Charlie Brown Christmas (1965)

The Peanuts gang does a great job of embodying all of the different feelings about Christmas. It comes across as very rich and real, even after 50 years. The “Charlie Brown” tree has become an archetype on its own, and Linus’s gently lisping recital of Luke Chapter 2:8-14 is simply beautiful.

3.  Love Actually (2003)

Laughs, tears and the conviction that love really is all around (kind of like Christmas)…what more do you need?

4.  Dr. Seuss’ How the Grinch Stole Christmas (1966)

Simply put: Boris Karloff’s narration is a delight. I often wonder if we, like the citizens of Whoville would still celebrate the true meaning of Christmas, even without all of the trappings. I have my doubts, until the Whos start singing.

5.  Home Alone (1990)

I enjoy how Home Alone balances a feel-good family message, absurdist comedy and a solid soundtrack with a quiet commentary on some of the absolute worst things about Christmas including travel insanity, horrible weather, crime, consumerism and cabin fever in a house overfilled with people, especially that one uncle that everyone loathes (No Frank, you’re the jerk!).

Head Over Flats - Alistair

I fell in love with Alistair on a Friday. I’d known him for years; there subsisted an easy affection between us, almost familial in its simplicity and comfort. When we first met, Alistair was an adorably feckless charmer with easy grace, a slight accent, and eyes the colour of a glacier-fed river. In the long, busy years of our friendship, he had developed a passion for his work, a strong and simple sense of self and an appreciation for me that I will never truly understand.

We were an odd pair. Alistair was deeply creative and philosophical, with an earthy sensibility and capable hands. I was practical and inhibited, with a nervous laugh and chipped nail polish. We had nicknames and inside jokes, I was on a first name basis with his mother and my (married) older sister always referred to him as "the Scottish dreamboat" to my continued bemusement.

That Friday we were talking and drinking on the patio. The last clear, slanted rays of autumn sunshine were dancing around us. He stood and adjusted the collar of his shirt. His eyes smiled at me first, lighting up with a witticism that followed in the smooth, deep susurrations of his speech. By the time the smile found its way to his lips, I was in love. He walked away to get us another round of whiskey and I tried to talk myself out of it. Too late.

"But look-he flicks his hand to the back of his neck. For such a gesture one falls hopelessly in love for a lifetime." (Virginia Woolf)

 

The Leather Pants - Date 5

One girl's misadventures in online dating - Date 5: Chas

Oh my goodness, you are in for a treat! Last night, I went on the worst of all the online dates that I've been on. In fact it only lasted 30 minutes, that's how bad it was.

Let me start with some reality. In reality, I am 5' 8 3/4''.  That is less than 5' 9'', which is how tall I tell people I am and which is what my online dating profile says. That is less than 5' 11" which is how tall I used to be convinced I was and how tall I used to tell people I was. There is actually a volleyball roster that was sent out when I was in grade 12 that said I was 6' 3", that was very clearly a lie. So, in reality, I'm not THAT tall, but I am kind of tall.

On the online dating site, you are supposed to write your hair colour, eye colour, height, "body type", race, etc. Chas's profile said he was 5' 9", which, as I have just established, should have been taller than me, if only by less than a centimeter.  False. Chas was possibly 5' 7", so right from the get-go I had been betrayed. You should know that I am also a full proponent of honesty. As mothers everywhere have always said, honesty is the best policy. I think that if you're up front about something with someone, then they have the chance to figure out if they are interested in the real you, instead of the online "better" version. As you can imagine from the initial betrayal, the rest of the date did not go well, not because he was short, but because he lied.

I'll now start from the beginning. Chas showed up in my matches one day and he seemed good looking, outdoorsy, and had a puppy, what more could I want? So I clicked the giant check mark and, eventually, he wrote me an email. The emails got super long because we had a lot in common: born and raised in the same city, similar tastes in music and activities, love dogs, etc. Eventually he said we should meet up so we exchanged phone numbers and made plans for last night. In his emails and texts he kept saying I was an "impressive lady" and sending me puppy pictures. I can't say that this upset me except that I'm not a "lady". Alas, how could he have known?

Yesterday he texted to confirm our date at my favorite ice cream shop at 7:30, I said yes, but also that I had a ton of work to get done (true) so it couldn't be too long. He offered a different time, but really I would have needed a break from working anyway. I wore my leather pants, drove to the ice cream joint, and waited on the benches outside. Chas walked up and it was obviously him from the pictures, except that he was way shorter than promised. This was highlighted by the fact that he was wearing sort of a wool trench coat that was pretty long (mid-thigh) and made him look even shorter. He continued to prove he had no style by wearing Vans and dress pants, eww. Anyway, we went inside, got ice cream (I had melted chocolate and it was so good), and he paid.

We walked to his car to get his puppy, Ashley, who was a four-month old labradoodle and became the highlight of the date. Whatever chemistry we initially had via email was definitely lacking in person. I'm not sure if it was nerves or the fact that neither of us could re-read what we wanted to say before sending it in order to sound cute and flirty. Whatever it was, the spark, was not there for me. We chatted about banal things like work, favorite colours, and other things of no import in real life. There was no laughter or flirtiness in person.

We walked around the block a few times, Ashley pooped and Chas didn't have a bag, so I had to give him my napkin and he carried it around forever. He even pointed this out to me: "Now I'm super attractive carrying around poop". No, Chas. You know what is sexy? Responsible pet ownership. I think it's sexy to be prepared, especially when it comes to taking care of your dependents. If you have a dog, please take care of it. This is like all the dogs that are left in boiling hot cars in the summer or are left alone all day and all night while you have your "life"; they can't take care of themselves or speak for themselves, so that's up to you. This may seem like a strange thing to be so passionate about, but it's the reason that I don't have a dog that I so desperately want, because I don't spend enough time at home to take care of one.

Once Chas had disposed of the poop (and not washed his hands, and then ate his ice cream using those hands) we continued our walk around the same block several more times. Conversation did not flow easily, we quickly ran out of those things in common that we had discussed in emails, and we walked in awkward silence for a while. After what felt like 2 hours, I looked at my watch and realized it had only been 30 minutes! OH MY GOD. So I said I was really sorry and had to get back to work and that it was all I could think about so I was being bad company. Then I hightailed it back to my car and didn't look back.

I'm so happy that I cancelled my membership and that I only have one more date set up. I hope you guys are enjoying this more than I am, but also I'm glad I can see the humor in it anyway :)

Love Sack Murda

Em for Movies - The Night Before



This elf looks like a total drunkard.

With less than one month until Christmas, I suppose it’s time to start getting into the spirit. That may involve upping your daily dosage of sappy, saccharine, sentimental hogwash or braving nightmarish department stores to buy useless crap that won’t last the winter or preparing your liver for the traditional holiday binge-drinking (maybe with a cleanse, I don’t know).

One way to kick-start the Christmas feeling is with a good, old-fashioned holiday movie. We all have our favourites. Even the grinchiest of us has a soft spot for at least one of the hundreds (seriously, hundreds) of movies that centre around the “most wonderful time of the year”.

The Night Before pays homage to the classic Christmas films of yesteryear while telling its own coming-of-middle-age story of friendship and poor life choices. Written by a team whose individual credits include This Is the End, The Interview, 50/50 and Superbad, you should know almost exactly what to expect. The Night Before had raucous fun with patented humour that pulls no childish punches, spares no drug reference and straight-up refuses to blush. I laughed, groaned, winced, cackled and even cried. (I’d say the seasonal sappiness is kicking in, but that’s a total cop-out.)

Not sure if the non-stop silliness of The Night Before has what it takes to become a classic Christmas tale that will stand the test of annual re-viewing. But for right now, as December looms and the days diminish, this heartfelt yet mindless romp was exactly what I needed. Also, as my friend noted at the end of the movie, “The world needs more Lizzy Caplan.” I agree.

Egg nog with plenty o rum. 

Cheers,

Em

Booze-Infused Beauties - Fireball

Fireball Ginger Crinkle Cookies

My Grandma taught my sisters and I how to bake. We would all stand together in the kitchen as she instructed us on the specifics. With a grin on her face, she would say, “Now girls, it is important to always measure verrrrrry carefully.” As she said this, she would pour flour straight from the bag into the bowl. We would watch as the flour shook out and landed atop a pile of cocoa and baking soda, confused as all get-out.

I think this knack for precise measurement runs in the family. My dad’s macaroni and cheese recipe uses phrases like “A gurble of Worcestershire sauce” and “a generous glob of butter” and “several shakes of mustard”.  The funny thing is, I know exactly what a gurble amounts to, though I haven’t mastered that recipe quite yet… Damn it! Maybe I don’t know what a gurble is!

Let’s just say cooking is not my forte.

After many years of wondering how the heck my Grandma’s baking always turned out, I have followed her lead and created my own style of baking too. Usually it involves substituting random stuff for ingredients that I am missing but almost always it’s throwing things together in a bowl with a smile on my face! I usually listen to oldies, singing loudly and horribly while creating art through the media of flour, butter and sugar. I think my grandma would be proud.

Today I want to share with you a recipe of my own creation: a small piece of art that uses all of the above ingredients, with the addition of Fireball! ←Yes, the alcohol. 

Warning: There may have been some “careful measuring” done throughout this recipe…particularly with the Fireball. (Note the quantity of fireball remaining in the photo above…heh heh…)

Ingredients

2 cups all-purpose flour

2 tsps baking soda

1 ½ tsps ground ginger

1 tsp cinnamon

½ tsp salt

¼ tsp nutmeg

½ cup shortening

¼ cup butter

½ cup brown sugar

½ cup granulated sugar

¼ cup molasses (Read below about this step)

1 egg

½ cup icing sugar

FIREBALL! Umm maybe ½ cup?

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.

So, most bakers say to mix all the dry ingredients in one bowl and all the wet ingredients in another bowl and then combine them (And you can totally do that!), but I am lazy and do not like dirtying more than one bowl.

So, I always start with the butter, which should be softened, and then the sugar and all the other wet stuff. For this recipe when I “measured” the molasses I poured the ¼  cup worth of it into a ¾ of a cup and then essentially topped it up with Fireball to what looked like part way. In other words, its ¼ cup molasses mixed with a ¼ cup fireball but I found that when you mix the two together it helps it come out of the measuring cup easier ☺. Then add all the dry stuff and spices, in any order you please.  The dough should be soft and smell (and taste, if you’re not sketched out by raw eggs-I haven’t died yet!) so yummy!!

Grab small handfuls of dough and roll into balls (about 1 inch diameter). Place on an ungreased cookie sheet and bake for 9 minutes or so.

When you pull them out they may seem really soft but the trick is to leave them on the pan for quite a while and they will be perfectly chewy on the inside and crunchy on the outside!

While you are waiting for the cookies to cool you can make the glaze. This I did not measure at all. Like, at all. Basically, I put icing sugar in a bowl and mixed fireball into it until it looked glaze-like (kind of like the consistency of syrup). Once the cookies are cool you can pour the glaze over them using a spoon. And Done! Feed them to your friends and family and watch as they attempt to guess the secret ingredient!

Enjoy, and stay tuned for 'Spiced Rum and Eggnog Cupcakes'

-Lizzy

Head Over Flats - Introduction

When Emily told me about Will Write for Booze, I wanted to be a part of it but I didn’t know what I wanted to write about. Most of my papers are dense, academic treatises on language that have soporific effects on par with 10 milligrams or so of diazepam. It’s been a while since I’ve written anything that anyone would ever really want to read.

I went through my correspondence to see what I write about on a daily basis. Aside from sending work emails, inspirational quotes, and theBERRY’s eye candy pics, I don't have a lot to share. I don’t seem to write about anything in particular. Unless I’ve fallen in love. Which, judging from my emails, seems to happen all the time.

Sometimes love is the culmination of a million tiny attractions, each like little snowflakes that together make up an avalanche. Other times it is the top stair that you think should be there when you take an extra step in the dark. Sometimes it’s just the nice glaze we put on lust, trying to make it prettier.

Embarrassingly enough, I fall in love a lot. Love slaps me in the face unexpectedly on sleepy afternoons, it hides like my car keys when I’m in a hurry. Love also fades and falls apart, it gets quashed, it can be unrequited or wholly unreasonable.

For me, the best part of love is that first moment: the spark, the revelation that love is there and I can feel it. Everything that comes after is just life, but that moment is something more. It is connection.

Head Over Flats is the story of that initial life-altering adrenaline rush of when I fall in love. Over and over.

With lovers past and present.

With friends.

With random men in line at the bank.

With that ludicrously sexy guy out walking his goldador retriever in the park.

With pretty much anyone.

I suppose that makes me a romantic. Or a nutjob. Feel free to help me decide which.

The Leather Pants - Date 4

One girl's misadventures in online dating - Date 4: Dan again

Saturday was my first online dating follow-up date. Success! In that it proved that not all men one meets online are mortifyingly boring in real life and that one out of three merits a second date. Fail! In that it went super poorly and I will not be seeing him again.

Tuesday I received a text from Dan in the morning asking if I would like to have lunch or dinner Saturday, I said yes to lunch because I had plans to eat cheesecake all night (please note that this is the day after our first date). He let me choose between two hip restaurants in town, I had been to one already so I chose the other. It was tough to find parking and the menu was lacking, in my opinion.

Because I couldn't find parking I showed up late, but I found myself already somewhat apathetic towards this date, so I didn't rush. In Dan's defense, I had stayed up late drinking the night before (and Thursday night, too), so I was tired and hungover. In my defense, I still washed my hair, put on my leather pants, and looked cute. Regardless, the restaurant is a small place and the door doesn't face the street, it faces into a park downtown, which is confusing and embarrassing as you walk around the entire restaurant trying to get in. 

Dan was sitting at a table waiting for me when I got there. He wanted to get appetizers and wanted tuna tartare, which I quickly talked him out of. Instead we got lentil hummus which had a weird flavor and texture. Then he got this beef sandwich and I got mac & cheese. This time the conversation continued to flow easily and was more about me, which I love. Our food came out and mine was ok, kind of lukewarm and not super cheesy. His appeared to be difficult to eat and all the meat was coming out of the sandwich because he couldn't bite through it. It was embarrassing. The waiter kept coming over to talk to us and really the thing that killed it for me was that Dan kept saying sentences and ending them with "my man", which is a weird mannerism and I don't like it. He'd say things like "Just the bill, my man," or "I'm not sure, man." Maybe it's not weird, but I don't like it, it's unnecessary words.

Finally, we got the bill and he paid. I made up some excuse for having to leave, which I had sort of been nursing all day so that I could bail, if necessary. We walked to his car together because it was closer and he hugged me goodbye. In my mind I thought, "Goodbye, forever!" and that was that. It was not a good date.

He texted me yesterday seeing how my weekend was. If he asks me out again I will say no. This is too much effort to continue.

Love Sack Murda

ps - Have another date Thursday, maybe it'll go better

The Leather Pants - Date 3

One girl's misadventures in online dating - Date 3: Dan

      Emily came over one day to set up her online dating and I'm pretty sure Dan was in my Daily Matches or we somehow stumbled upon his profile. He looked sort of different in each picture and we couldn't decide if he was cute enough to message. I guess eventually I must have messaged him and it must have gone well. We had messaged for longer than the other guys before mentioning we should meet up, then I was not that interested so I didn't make an effort, then I was too hungover the day we were supposed to meet up (after a camping trip I took with some girlfriends). So it took a while to meet up and at that point I was already bored and not wanting to. In the end, I'm glad I went out.

    On a Monday night I went to go meet Dan. I didn't wear the leather pants because I was tired and didn't feel like squeezing myself into them. I wasn't late, but he was 15 minutes early and texted when he arrived with a description of what he was wearing so that I could find him. It was really cute because when I arrived, there were literally 3 people in there and he was hard to miss. We were at a Starbucks over by the airport at 8:30 pm on a Monday. This is a bad idea because caffeine keeps me awake; I had hot chocolate instead, he had coffee and he paid :) love that. After getting our drinks I wasted no time asking questions because I could remember a few things we'd discussed in emails and one was that he could tell me how pressing vinyl works. He told me all about how they record the sound waves/vibrations, then a stylus etches the vibrations into a lacquer plate, then they electroplate it, then press it into a vinyl puck, and voilà! A record! Anyway, that's the Coles' Notes version, if you want more details you should check it out. It was super interesting and he was super passionate about it, turns out he worked for 9 years to save money to start his own business and now he has one of very few vinyl pressing places in the world, has his own recording studio, and aspirations of starting a record label. Sounds pretty awesome!

    So Starbucks closes at 9 pm on Mondays and we had only been there 30 minutes and I wasn't done finding things out yet, so I suggested we go next door for a drink, which was also closed.  He then said we could go drive somewhere for a drink or we could go see the studio (I know this was a bad idea and I could have gotten murdered, but how could I say no to a private studio tour and also seeing how the vinyl pressing worked?) clearly I said yes.

    The drive to the studio was sketchy and as I drove I convinced myself he would murder me there. It was in the industrial area near the airport and I was turned around and hopelessly lost. We parked and there was a sign on the door, so at least it seemed legit. I joked that this was definitely where he would murder me. This is a common theme of my dates, recall Anderson joking about murder. He laughed and we went inside and I was not murdered; there were other people around so it seemed less scary. He showed me the vinyl presses and the studio and then we listened to records and chatted a bit and then I went home. We did not hug goodbye. His record choices left something to be desired, he chose Arcade Fire, which is not my favorite, and then Michael Jackson. Considering I had looked at all the records sitting there, I felt a little disappointed.

    I am actually pretty stoked about this date. Maybe because my hopes had been so low to begin with, maybe because I learned so much and I love learning, maybe because he didn't bore me to death and actually asked questions, maybe all three of these things. Dan texted me the next day and asked me to lunch or dinner Saturday. We have another date Saturday for lunch and I'll let you know how it goes! My first follow-up date! This might necessitate the return of the leather pants ...

Love Sack Murda

Em for Movies - Spectre

I have mixed (shaken, not stirred) feelings about Spectre.

There are certain basic expectations for a Bond movie: exotic locations, crazy stunts, a bloated theme song, incredibly sexy cars, one-dimensional women, over-the-top villains, gadgetry, cheesy one-liners, a torture scene, and at least one massive explosion. The thing that separates some of the great Bond films (Goldfinger, The Spy Who Loved Me, From Russia With Love and Casino Royale) from the duds is how well the filmmakers make use of or subvert these classic elements.

The film’s opening is beautiful, layered, and very exciting. It immediately fills the quota for exotic location and crazy stunts with a quick, competent, suave sense of style.

Despite topping the UK music charts, Sam Smith’s theme song “Writing’s on the Wall” was patently boring. Smith’s high pitched vocals failed to create a sense of scale or menace, which following the fabulous Day of the Dead opening sequence left me with the dreadful premonition that the best part of the movie was over. After the intermission of bilious, self-important crooning the film continued, but seemed to have missed a step.

Credit where it's due, the Aston Martni DB10 was sex on wheels. Cameos of the classic Aston Martin DB5, a sleek prototype Jaguar C-X75, and the sophisticated vintage Rolls Royce Silver Wraith were marvellous. On a per car basis, Spectre exceeded my expectations.  

The women, in true Bond style, have barely more personality or purpose than the cars. Monica Bellucci is one of the most beautiful women in film. Ever. She speaks five languages (not including the Aramaic in The Passion of the Christ) and manages to convey grace and eloquence in all of them. As the oldest ever Bond girl at 50, I had foolishly expected her to be something more than a “you killed my husband, but I never liked him anyway” fuck. Le sigh. So I pinned my hopes on Léa Seydoux. Mr. White refers to her as bright, but she is laughably inept-at best someone to be continuously rescued, at worst a prize for good behaviour. Back in the day when Bond girls were given names like Honey Rider, or the unforgiveable Plenty O’Toole there was a sense of purposeful absurdity if not introspection to it. With characters like Lucia Sciarra and Madeleine Swann, you’d almost expect more. You’d be wrong.

The villain was not a world-class assassin, nor (as I had briefly hoped) that assassin’s vengeful widow. With a legacy in mind and Spectre’s inflated sense of everything, the familiarly ominous Mr. White of Quantum is no longer sufficient opposition. Instead we have SPECTRE, which has a seriously cool logo but not much flair for real villainy. The titular evil organization chose to meet in an atmospheric Roman venue (instead of a volcano lair) that by happenstance is easier to infiltrate than the majority of the city’s trashier nightclubs. They report on their nefarious plots like corporate pencil pushers, and cower in fear as their soft-spoken leader tries to seem ominous but is more like a petulant child.

Following the pared-down trend of gadgetry in the latest incarnation of Bond, Spectre runs fairly light on the spy toys. With Q’s workshop looking more like a dank storage locker than a government-funded tech department, we couldn’t really hope for much.

The most memorable one-liner in Spectre was delivered with aplomb by Ralph Fiennes’s M, to my utter delight. Though by the time it came around (more than 2 hours in) my sense of humour and interest in witty repartee was nearly numb.

The torture scene had neither visceral brutality of Casino Royal, nor the psychological and emotional resonance of Skyfall. It was over-elaborate, inexact and alarmingly ineffective.

And the massive explosion? Well, the Guinness Book of World Records confirmed that Spectre featured the largest on-screen explosion yet. Not just in a Bond film, in any film. Though I don’t recall thinking that it was anything special at the time, which speaks volumes.

When expectations are not exceeded, or treated with a self-aware sense of style, then all you have is a mediocre Bond movie that will fade into obscurity like Quantum of Solace, Diamonds are Forever or Tomorrow Never Dies.

If you were to ignore the fact that this is a James Bond film, and all of the wonderful associations that get tied into that, you have a frankly ridiculous movie that I would normally have lambasted. But it’s still Bond. It’s like watching a cherished nephew score a goal against his own net. You have to cheer, right? He scored. 

To change metaphors, I give this film a dirty martini: you’ll like it if you like martinis. If not, it is harsh, clichéd, expensive, time consuming, and tastes a little like feet.

 

Cheers,

Em