exclamation points in titles!

Bought this today so that my luggage will certainly be heavy weight. Or maybe that's just my brain, ZING!


Just me, Rudolph, and a polar bear.

No big deal, just hanging with my Christmas posse while my sister creeps personal on Craigslist. I decided to give you two gifts this Jesus day:

1) Christmas posse gangsta face

and, 2) Christmas posse straight up

Yer welcome. Peace and love.


merry flunkin' christmas

My parents have reindeer headbands and juiceboxes on hand at all times. Also, cheese and crackers that I top with sundried tomato pesto. I told them they're living like kings.

Peace out for now, some minute maid in the cutest box form is calling my name.


Plumbing Issues

We've had some people replacing the tiles in our bathroom because of some mold/sealing issues. I know, I know, riveting stuff, please Carmen, go on about bathroom renovations!

Shut up.

Anyway, what was supposed to take three days has been stretched to two weeks and counting. Not having use of your washroom is annoying for obvious reasons but the one positive is that they're knocking off some rent. Suddenly, not using my washroom is bearable with the understanding that I'm saving rather than spending money. This also happens to be a timely arrival for rent deductions because Christmas is around the corner and the past few years I've given only smiles, hugs, and the grace of my presence.

Right now two workers are singing "Killed By Death" and recounting scenes from the music video.

PS -- the above pic was my halloween costume. I went for gangsta but sort of came off looking 90's. Oh well.


90's Love

These photos were taken in the summer with an old digital SLR that, unfortunately, has a light leak. I think it's a Yashica? I can't remember, sorry.

At first I was going to photoshop them, but then I decided against it. They have this funny quality to them --sort of faded or washed out-- that reminds me of pics from my elementary days. Do you know the ones? You and your brother are standing in front of a forest, him in a No Fear t-shirt, and you sticking out your tongue like a loser.



love is for assholes

I've finally managed to arrange my three separate work schedules into one, barely feasible, work week. I don't remember the exact moment I cracked, but after too many doubles in a row I just said no. No more doubles.

I think, that in most other areas of life, doubles are generally considered a good thing. For example, a double shot of espresso is far more effective at fighting off exhaustion than one. A gin and tonic, times two, is a better investment in your future. A toonie, versus a loonie is simply no contest. And twins, I would imagine, are double the fun.

Anyway, just because I haven't talked about work enough, here's a gem. I was working on coat check, frustrated out of my mind with the general congestion of the bar, with people who wanted to check their coats in and out with every smoke outside, and with the drunken bros who want to spill life stories to me. The Beatles were playing overhead, and everyone was singing along (remember folks, simply being drunk doesn't make every song kareoke) "All you need is love." Suddenly my coworker pops his head around the corner, looks at me and says: THIS SONG IS FOR ASSHOLES!


so fresh

When my boyfriend says I'm dressed weird I just want to show him a picture of this chick and be like, WHAT-EVER!


They're Calling Us a Hero

I'm the one in the middle, sitting down, staring in the direction of nothing, and laughing. Glad they captured my good side.

Here's the link to the briefity brief article: http://www.nowtoronto.com/lifestyle/story.cfm?content=171729



In shift number 1 of the day (yes, there was more than one) I managed to cut my hand. No big deal really, except for the fact that I cut it on a FUCKING BAGUETTE.

Okay, gotta go back to wondering why in the world I don't have a real job.

It's 6:32 am. I am going to leave for work soon. I sat down to drink my coffee -- a small but effective bribe I use to convince myself that the feeling I have when I wake up at this hour is not physical pain, but exhaustion.

I see the wine glass left over from last night and think, hey, I could totally understand how drinking (steadily) before work comes about.

Just sayin'.


You Know Your Mother Is An Internet Scam Artist When...

An email I received from my mother this morning:

Sent by: (mom)

Subject header: Do you want to spend Christmas in the Carribean?

Content of email: (as copy and pasted) http://vancouver.en.craigslist.ca/van/edu/1397999317.html


Now I'll just go click on that link and before you know it some lovely stranger will have stolen my credit card info and bought nine orders of 7-11 nachos, 13 packs of rollies, and a ferrari.



Sippin' on Gin and Juice

Yesterday on the phone my mother informed me I wasn't blogging enough. She laughed out loud (lol'd if you will) about my Twitter page. "For Pete's sake Carmen, everyone still thinks you fell off your bike!"

First things first mom. I did fall off my bike, it sucked, and now the moment is immortalized on Twitter. Second, I think your "everyone" comment is cute, duly noted, but you are the only person who reads that page.

Okay though, yes, I do need to update. We live in different time zones (yes, I'm just addressing my mom directly now. Dad, you're welcome to read along too) and catching each other on the ol' telayphono can be difficult.

The problem folks, is that I'm not sure my snooze-fest of an update is worth your time. Currently I'm pretty hung over, reading lying down because I can't manage to perform any task while vertical, and mentally preparing myself to go to work. I don't know if the rest of the world does that pre-shift mental prep? The pep-talk that involves a few "I'll quit if they talk to me like that one more time!" and at least one emphatic "I can do this!"

All I can think about is that the distance between myself and a real job looks like the Grand Canyons right now, and what I have to work with are these two bony legs. Please give me a call when you acquire an atv and the penchant for random acts of human kindness.

Until then, follow my lead and keep it real homies.


i'm like sunshine on a rainy day

Working seven days a week has been so fun. Fun like getting a blood test. I'm noticing that I say things that make me (sound) very old. Have I had a conversation with you yet about how my feet always hurt? Last night as I was falling asleep I thought of the old lunch lady at my elementary school, of the taupe coloured orthotics she used to don. Now, I sort of envy those cushy, faintly medical looking things.

My grey hair count is at 2, which is about an orange on the pandemic scale. One was excusable, but two? When I found the second it wasn't one of those sad but hilarious moments that I then go and tell my coworkers about, I literally stood in my bathroom while my youth flashed before my eyes.

No one will love you, Carmen. No one.

Though, I must say, there is light amongst the darkness. The other night at work, (WHY DO I WORK NIGHTS AGAIN?!) we were swamped, everyone was running around frantically trying to do nine things at once, my angelic coworker turned to me and said, "Hey, you want a break? I've got a burger in the back, it's all yours."

I just sort of looked at her, dumbfounded. She could have said she had some spare dry almonds, or maybe one of those shitty granola bars that's not even covered in chocolate, but a burger?! I sat in a storage closet atop a spare folded area carpet, a coat rack dangling above my head. With weight off my feet and something greasy in my belly I had never been happier.



The music is blasting, Noah is wearing a football jersey, and I'm trying to down as much coffee as possible before leaving for one of my three jobs. It's morning, yes, morning I think.

I can't remember (anything) whether or not I've talked about the roster of homeless men who set up shop outside my building/in my yard. I know that I've brought it up at staff meetings, but internet, I may have thought at one time or another that it was inappropriate to share. Anyway, there's the young gang who scowls at me and then talks on their cell phones. There's the crack conniseur who can smoke rock 18 times between calling the cops and having the cops arrive. There's also the rather harmless man who likes to sleep naked, his filthy sleeping bag barely covering his junk.

Okay, so when I started this post there was going to be a reason for talking about the homeless clan...and I can't really remember what that reason was. I have an inkling that I was going to attempt some sort of parallel --that my coffee consumption is just no longer doing the trick, much like their crack use.

But who knows, my memory has taken a trip to Exhaustion-ville, which is really not much of a ville but more like an impound lot. You show up, and you're like hey, can I just get my memory back? And that dude behind the little glass box is like, well, what's the serial code? And you're all, what? Serial code? Wtf? I don't remember.

And then that little man just laughs, a hearty laugh that shakes his whole body, and he looks at you. Get some rest kid, then you'll remember.

Oh, thanks, philosopher! I couldn't figure that one out. Rest? I DON'T HAVE MONEY FOR REST SO I'LL JUST WORK THREE JOBS AND SAVE UP!

I think I'm going in circles.



Guyz, I work too much, like all the live long day, and you know what, that means I just don't have time to use proper punctuation like periods, and probably if the copyeditor at my work looks at this she'll cry (Hi Kate!). Okay look, a period, there it is again.

My hope is that one day all this work will pay off, and I won't have to wear short skirts to one job, and wake up inanely early for the other, and well, I really like the third one but anyways, yes, that's number three. THREE.

At least I don't have to walk to work. Uphill. In the snow.



I don't know what to say folks. I go to work, I sleep, I go to my other work, I eat chocolate bars and wonder if I'm gaining weight. Then I go to work and eat croissants while I wonder about the fat thing.

I repeat this quite a bit without much variation --oh wait, I lied. Sometimes the croissants are chocolate, sometimes they're almond, and every once in a while they surprise me with chocolate almond bad boys. On those days I think I'm lucky and wonder what good fortune will come my way.


The Little Things

Stuff I've been thinking about:

-I need to do laundry

-I wish the crazy lady outside would stop screaming

-I like my new nail polish colour

-I don't know what I'm doing with my life

-I wish we had more chocolate in the apartment


Letter to No Ma'am Club

What up spicy gals,

Hey losers who didn't get the memo, emails and fb messages are the way of the dusty past. Blog-to-blog messaging is the new way to get in touch. See a tumbleweed just bumbling around in your inbox? Oh right, I told you so.

Anyways, Amy, Bilyana, I just watched your sweet vid. Reminiscing about pics is my favourite hobby. Watched any Jon and Kate Plus 8 recently? Let's have a conference call to discuss.

Toronno's okay but can you guys move here already? I'll make you Hello Kitty waffles and when I get home from work and Noah's playing squash we can hang and say stuff like, men! pfft. (love you Noah!)

Bilyana, I want to go to a gala with you. Amy, I want to be your cam ham.

I had a cinnamon bun for breakfast and i don't know how to end this new genre of communication.

Peace ladies, write me back,

Charmin' Carmen



I think that I still look exactly like I did in this picture. The bangs at least are spot on.


Work It

Have you guys checked out the other blog I work on yet? Cause you should.


Not Well-Endowed.

It's so hot in my parent's house I could just melt. My dad told me to suck it up about the whole AC issue, and my mom told him to be quiet because he doesn't have to wear a bra in this heat.

It's true, who knew boobs could sweat so much. Suddenly I don't mind being on the smaller side.


I am back in Vancouver at the parental unit's home right now. Late last night I biked around my old neighbourhood and felt all nostalgiac for a time that I didn't necessarily love. It's not that I didn't love my childhood --because I really did --but I would gladly forget those awkward junior high years. Bushy eyebrows and a penchant for good grades never helped the pursuit of popularity.

I've been looking through old pictures for a project at work, and though I've seen these same photographs more times than I can count, I feel like I'm noticing new things today. For one, I look a lot like my mother. Also, my brother, sister, and I wore stripes way too often.

I can already see that I won't be able to sum up the kinds of things I'm feeling right now without sounding painfully sentimental. Suffice to say it's nice to be home, hard to see things that have changed, and comforting to return to people with a shared history.


I know y'all are real worried about me and my FAILED hardrive, but hang in there, I will survive. Sure, my depression is like a heavy fog, but that's normal right? I will have to update with a hilarious explanation of what went down at the mac store because the analogies alone were real knee-slappers. For now, it's just...too soon. Too soon.

In other news, I recently started working for Worn fashion journal, and I urge you all to go read the website where I done gone does my workz and biznezz. I have a few articles up on the site and will be posting regularly there, but here is my riveting introduction for your enjoyment:


Who knew mad blogging skillz could come in handy? All those hours of reading and blogging these past years have merely been preparation.

I was practicing yo, and I didn't even know it.


oh lordy

(This is normally where a vain picture would go. Please, just imagine it).

Things got a little tip-turned upside down the other night. I was all set to watch the Canada's Next Top Model finale and then --WHAMMO! My computer is nothing but a flickering apple screen. Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh.

My hardrive failed. It's dunzo. Fried. Finito. Busted. Bye bye baby bye bye...

Currently, I feel like a hostage, writing this post from the children's public library near my apartment. I'm sure some little Sally or Ralph just wants to look up a Dora the Explorer video on Youtube and well, here I am being a bitch. Sorry kids, this is an adult EMERGENCY.

The very very very nice man (I refuse to say genius) at the Mac store did some Harry Potter shit on my failing computer, and managed to retrieve my precious documents folder. I carried home that burned disk in two hands, TWO HANDS I TELL YA!

I haven't cried yet, but honest to God, this sucks. Posting will be sporadic until I, oh I dunno, win the lottery (take out a loan) and buy a new one. Any sugar daddies (or mommies, I don't discriminate) that want to apply, just send me an email (that I will have to check on a kiddie computer) and I will judge you based strictly on Swiss bank account net sums.

First the bike wipe out and now this. Hey God, THANKS A LOT.


goo goo gaa gaa

(This one is my favourite bruise. The strange ladder-esque scab running up my leg is my favourite zipper imprint injury. The surprise underneath my shoulder bandaids is my favourite road rash scrape. Every time I get dressed I find new and disgusting cuts, bruises, and popped blood vessels.

Yesterday I got into a bike accident.
Today I worked a twelve hour shift.
Today I realized that my bike wheel is bent from yesterday!
Today a piece of dirt flew into my eye and I had to pull my bike over to the side of the road in blindness. I took into consideration the above and just about started crying. Once more, eye dirt almost induced tears.

My feet hurt so much by the time I got home and it made me feel old. I thought of the lunch lady who used to terrorize the primary students at my old elementary school, or more specifically, her ugly tan coloured orthotics. She wore violet tinted glasses, was completely malicious, and we all lived in constant fear of her wrath. One day at lunch hour there was a wind storm, and in a particularly strong gust of air, a large branch fell off a tree and struck this lunch lady. She managed to avoid any real injuries, and so, pretending to nod and mumble about how horrible the whole experience could have been, we collectively rejoiced in our luck. We assumed that someone had prayed because the branch fell down from above --and that could only mean one of two things:



tress distress

Looking at your archives from 2006 can be a dangerous thing. To snip or not to snip, that is the question billy shakes.


my application to the miniature mafia

Resting his hands for a moment between hammering, Hanz felt suddenly lonely.

It is only me in this dark box, this home of sorts. Surely there must be someone out there looking for a Hanz? Perhaps a Greta, or a Hilda?

If only someone would --Hanz put down the hammer and drummed on his workbench --hold me?

Outside Hanz's home, two rabbits chatted quietly. "I am more than a nose wiggler," said Roger (pronounced Rojare, not Rawjer) emphatically. Bettina nodded, "I am so tired of these carrot and lettuce stereotypes. I love yogurt as much as the next mammal!"

He could not be completely certain, but Hanz believed that he could hear the murmur of soft voices in the distance. Of conversations, connections. Picking up the hammer once again, Hanz had faith that he was not alone.

"Lonely, but not alone," he said to himself, "it will do for now."


stories in two parts

photos courtesy of my boyfriend



Dudes, I have no idea what I'm doing with my life. There are these kids who scream outside my apartment window incessantly, and I'm scared that one of these days I'm gonna go outside, grab one by the shoulders, and tell them to seize the day like never before.

Seize this time when you don't need to worry about getting fat. Eat that extra chocolate bar, guilt free. Play tag or cops and robbers with your buds and just include the annoying kid why don't ya. Enjoy your immaculate flaxen hair. Appreciate your lack of stress-induced acne breakouts. Ask someone for a hug without wondering if that means you have 'issues'. Have issues! Pee your pants, because, why not? There are simply no consequences. JUST RUN TO FEEL THE WIND THROUGH YOUR HAIR AND ONLY THINK ABOUT THAT, DON'T ASK YOURSELF PHILOSOPHICAL QUESTIONS YOU CAN'T EVEN BEGIN TO ANSWER BUT INSTEAD LEAD YOU TO THE KIND OF DISORIENTING EXPERIENCE WHERE YOU WAKE UP IN YOUR WALK IN CLOSET AND WONDER WHY YOU WORK SEVEN DAYS A WEEK!

But uh, yes, here's to hoping I don't actually do that. Heh...heh...uh...oh God.

In other news my lovely friend Ali, who actually reads my blog TEN POINTS GIRL!, sent me a lovely gift. Yes, I just used a comma after an exclamation point so go ahead and sue me. I can't see out of my left eye right now because, well I don't even know why but all sources point to exhaustion, so I'm gonna go ahead and be reckless with punctuation.

Okay, bye bye for now guys. I have to pee and I haven't had time all day. Thanks Ali, you're a doll and brightened my day.


a series of breakfasts

Fruit with yogurt, turkish delight all the way from...Turkey, and oat pancakes with blueberries and maple syrup. I never promised it was healthy all the time.