I have a friend visiting this week. We grew up together in Dubai. Now she's a doctor, and I'm a change management something.....its been a humbling weekend.....
She leaves tomorrow, and Ill be sad to see her go.
My new challenge is, I now have another friend, whose invited himself to crash on my couch for the next week. The mere thought of his visit is giving me cold sweats (and not a good way.) He's a nice person, its just an entire week of having to entertain someone else seems too much to bear. I need my space, my quietness, my life of boring routine back.
Sigh! On the bright side I won't have to visit Niagra Falls again.
Saturday, June 28, 2008
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Toronto is a beautiful city.
Yet too often we, its residents forget what a wonderful place we live in.
So the city puts on events such as these to remind us….
http://www.ydsquare.ca/index.php?option=com_events&task=view_cat&offset=1&catid=20&Itemid=48
Yet too often we, its residents forget what a wonderful place we live in.
So the city puts on events such as these to remind us….
http://www.ydsquare.ca/index.php?option=com_events&task=view_cat&offset=1&catid=20&Itemid=48
Monday, June 23, 2008
On becoming a pauper to sleep like a Queen
The highlight of my mix weather weekend (beautiful spurts of sunlight, intermingled with ridiculous thunderstorms) was the purchase of a beautiful chandelier for my ‘harem’ themed bedroom.
I spent all last night delighting in its majesty. Cranky Putz is well on her way to putting together her dream bed room. Only detail left is the over sized mirror, placed strategically in front of the bed, to do my make up ofcourse…..
The chandelier was installed courtesy of my dear fixer upper father. He arrived early to the chandelier’s first mangy cousin. It was an anorexic thing, who I thought would do the job saving me a cool $100. I got daddy dear to install it and we painstakingly hooked in each little crystal, only to find that we both didn’t love it.
Off we went to home depot, to get the real deal. The hot shottas of chandeliers; the queen bee. And we repeated the same process. It felt like putting together a snazzy Christmas tree, delicately hanging those intricate ornaments. Yet the end result was definitely worth the effort.
Later in the night, my dear family began to calculate how much I would owe them should they have been general contractors:
Cranky Pop: About $50 and hour, plus expenses
Cranky Brother: Plus delivery and gas
Cranky Mother: About $60 an hour for the dinner
A good thing that family debts can be re-paid in hugs and kisses.
I spent all last night delighting in its majesty. Cranky Putz is well on her way to putting together her dream bed room. Only detail left is the over sized mirror, placed strategically in front of the bed, to do my make up ofcourse…..
The chandelier was installed courtesy of my dear fixer upper father. He arrived early to the chandelier’s first mangy cousin. It was an anorexic thing, who I thought would do the job saving me a cool $100. I got daddy dear to install it and we painstakingly hooked in each little crystal, only to find that we both didn’t love it.
Off we went to home depot, to get the real deal. The hot shottas of chandeliers; the queen bee. And we repeated the same process. It felt like putting together a snazzy Christmas tree, delicately hanging those intricate ornaments. Yet the end result was definitely worth the effort.
Later in the night, my dear family began to calculate how much I would owe them should they have been general contractors:
Cranky Pop: About $50 and hour, plus expenses
Cranky Brother: Plus delivery and gas
Cranky Mother: About $60 an hour for the dinner
A good thing that family debts can be re-paid in hugs and kisses.
Friday, June 20, 2008
Things May be Looking up???
I was at Shoppers Drug Mart today, attempting the join the que, when an eight year old man, whose eighty year old wife was three steps ahead, turns around to me and says, “Well aren’t you a beauty.”
And his wife turns around and yells, “What?”
And he says, “Not you, you’re deaf for a reason.”
And his wife turns around and yells, “What?”
And he says, “Not you, you’re deaf for a reason.”
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Uncorporating Men
The trouble with finally being ready to move on are all the un-corporating men your surrounded with.
First there’s the obligatory ex, who casually calls every two weeks, as if trying to keep his foot in the door or at very least his pinky, mentioning a line in sex in the city, which he does not watch, presenting further evidence to an already cold case….that he has moved on and is dating someone else.
Next there is the long distance crush who you had hoped to have a five minute flirtatious conversation, courtesy of 10-10-220, which would give you the push to get back in the game. No such luck.
Or the reruns, the men who’ve stumbled on you thanks to facebook, and to their utter delight have found that you haven’t aged a day since your sixteenth birthday (their words.) Who are as sweet as you remember them and yet as forgettable.
And finally the possibilities: Toronto used to be the Baskin Robins city; one of the few cities in the world where hybrid, smart, charming men ran rampant. You could get any flavour you wanted. Chinese and black, sure, Indian and Korean, Yup, German and Puerto Rican, Fo Sho! And even the plain flavours were available in droves. Men were everywhere; on subway cars, elevators, out and about Saturday nights at the clubs, movies, bars, restaurants, you couldn’t walk two steps without someone giving you the eye, smiling you down, ‘come hithering’ you across the street.
Men were practically growing out of the cracks on the street, like persistent summer weeds.
Then today came along and they’ve all but disappeared. The city is going through a drought. It’s as if the unseasonably cold temperatures have all driven all the hot men south. Instead we woman of Toronto now have to deal with a whole breed of leftovers best described by their Saturday night wear:
Meet Bachelor #1, he wears fitted designer jeans, a fitted stripped shirt, a waist coat (vest for the rest of you) and to add a nonchalant touch, a skinny tie in colors such as pink, black, gold. This man reeks of ambition, good looks, confidence and charm, and is only too aware that he is, what most mothers would call ‘a catch.’ He even comes with his own personal set of groupies, tittering girls who follow him from event to event all weekend long, vying for his attention, dancing up on each other like BET taught them, giggling at his wunnnderful jokes.
Introducing Bachelor #2: B2 wears a shirt, sometimes fitted, sometimes loose. Sometimes he goes ultra casual with a graphic tee. B2 comes with his own brand of ‘devil may care’ attitude. B2 is guilty of phrases such as “Oh you too stuck up to talk to me?” Men be warned, that is never a good opening line. Infact all lines are never good. A mere hello suffices.
The Sport Coat: Bachelor #3 has revived the sport coat 80’s look, updated it with a pair of $300 jeans and a black bracelet that give his preppy look an edge. B3 is cocky, smooth and determined. Who else would wear a damned sport coat on the hottest nights, to the warmest events with a shirt and even an undershirt? B3’s layers are supposed to signify maturity and affluence. Instead they are tell tale signs that this is the classic ‘onion man.’ As you peel his layers, he begins to give off a little stink and eventually makes your eyes water.
Last but not least we have bachelor #4, sunglasses, Argyle sweater & bling man man. Admittedly there was a point where we all thought sunglasses and chains bigger than a person's torso were sorta, kinda cool. We were fourteen then and lots of other silly things were cool like slap on bracelets. We have evolved but B4 has remained in his niche. B4’s flirtatious lines begin and end with sucking teeth noises.
First there’s the obligatory ex, who casually calls every two weeks, as if trying to keep his foot in the door or at very least his pinky, mentioning a line in sex in the city, which he does not watch, presenting further evidence to an already cold case….that he has moved on and is dating someone else.
Next there is the long distance crush who you had hoped to have a five minute flirtatious conversation, courtesy of 10-10-220, which would give you the push to get back in the game. No such luck.
Or the reruns, the men who’ve stumbled on you thanks to facebook, and to their utter delight have found that you haven’t aged a day since your sixteenth birthday (their words.) Who are as sweet as you remember them and yet as forgettable.
And finally the possibilities: Toronto used to be the Baskin Robins city; one of the few cities in the world where hybrid, smart, charming men ran rampant. You could get any flavour you wanted. Chinese and black, sure, Indian and Korean, Yup, German and Puerto Rican, Fo Sho! And even the plain flavours were available in droves. Men were everywhere; on subway cars, elevators, out and about Saturday nights at the clubs, movies, bars, restaurants, you couldn’t walk two steps without someone giving you the eye, smiling you down, ‘come hithering’ you across the street.
Men were practically growing out of the cracks on the street, like persistent summer weeds.
Then today came along and they’ve all but disappeared. The city is going through a drought. It’s as if the unseasonably cold temperatures have all driven all the hot men south. Instead we woman of Toronto now have to deal with a whole breed of leftovers best described by their Saturday night wear:
Meet Bachelor #1, he wears fitted designer jeans, a fitted stripped shirt, a waist coat (vest for the rest of you) and to add a nonchalant touch, a skinny tie in colors such as pink, black, gold. This man reeks of ambition, good looks, confidence and charm, and is only too aware that he is, what most mothers would call ‘a catch.’ He even comes with his own personal set of groupies, tittering girls who follow him from event to event all weekend long, vying for his attention, dancing up on each other like BET taught them, giggling at his wunnnderful jokes.Introducing Bachelor #2: B2 wears a shirt, sometimes fitted, sometimes loose. Sometimes he goes ultra casual with a graphic tee. B2 comes with his own brand of ‘devil may care’ attitude. B2 is guilty of phrases such as “Oh you too stuck up to talk to me?” Men be warned, that is never a good opening line. Infact all lines are never good. A mere hello suffices.
The Sport Coat: Bachelor #3 has revived the sport coat 80’s look, updated it with a pair of $300 jeans and a black bracelet that give his preppy look an edge. B3 is cocky, smooth and determined. Who else would wear a damned sport coat on the hottest nights, to the warmest events with a shirt and even an undershirt? B3’s layers are supposed to signify maturity and affluence. Instead they are tell tale signs that this is the classic ‘onion man.’ As you peel his layers, he begins to give off a little stink and eventually makes your eyes water.
Last but not least we have bachelor #4, sunglasses, Argyle sweater & bling man man. Admittedly there was a point where we all thought sunglasses and chains bigger than a person's torso were sorta, kinda cool. We were fourteen then and lots of other silly things were cool like slap on bracelets. We have evolved but B4 has remained in his niche. B4’s flirtatious lines begin and end with sucking teeth noises.What’s a girl gotta do to get some individuality?
Monday, June 16, 2008
The Trouble with Strolling Down Memory Lane with a few glasses of Port courtesy of your ex boyfriend; is that it quickly leads into self pity lane. Where you tend to wallow for a few hours, troubling deaf heaven with your warm tears, singing along passionately to “Do Right woman” only to wake up in the morning with eyes like a raccoon and a headache of tsunami proportions, to then look out the window at the most beautiful sunshine, which makes all your gloomy self indulgence the night before seem even more silly.
Friday, June 13, 2008
CP’s Life updates:
I was lazy last night. I ended up skipping the gym and watching the second season of Sex in The City. I also hemmed seven recently purchased pants. I am a horrible seamstress. Mostly because I am lazy and eventually my stitch gets too long. I remember out-sourcing my art projects to an upstairs neighbor in Dubai, in exchange I would write her English essays.
Speaking of re-runs: I once dated a tall, gorgeous Indian man for a month. When you think of Indian men, the characteristics of hairy and stocky come to mind. This one is tall, has beautiful smoky eyes, and has just the right ammount of manly hair.... ummmm. We broke up after he got a little too Indian on me and subtly began to suggest that I go for Hindi classes and start dressing more appropriately. The catalyst was when he came over for my 17th birthday party and I was wearing a barley there mini skirt and halter and buddy had the nerve to say that I should be embarrassed dressing that way in front of my family. I believe my final words to him were; if my parents don’t tell me how to dress, neither do you! Fast forward to today and it turns out I work with his cousin. He messaged me of FB last night saying he would love to meet up. The cousin claims he has learned the error of his conservative ways…..The question now is to meet or not to meet?
The fire alarm in my building went off at 4.23 am last night. At first I thought it was my annoying alarm. Problem is that we have no PA system so I had no idea if I had to vacate? Thus I poked my head out the door, didn’t see any smoke, went unto the balcony and didn’t see a fire truck. I then proceeded back into my bed and covered my head with a pillow. Ofcourse I couldn't sleep.
Miami’s friend emailed me to say that they are going Barbados Crop over this year. I almost cried. All my secret prayers, day dreams and childish fantasies are never going to come true. How sad. I almost want to call him, just to say hi. Would that be an incentive for him to change his plans??
Our work is taking us to the Docks today. The Docks is an entertainment complex in Toronto, and hosts one of TO’s oldest clubs. They even have an old fashioned drive thru theathre. I am looking forward to a tan.
Tonight I am meeting up with twelve boys who I grew up with in Dubai, visiting from all over the world. It will be a reunion of sorts. Most of them are married with kids. Sadly all the women from Dubai are now married and occupied with babies. I fear that I may be the only girl around. A picture of a tanned snow white and the twelve brown dwarfs comes to mind.
What are you guys up to this weekend?
Speaking of re-runs: I once dated a tall, gorgeous Indian man for a month. When you think of Indian men, the characteristics of hairy and stocky come to mind. This one is tall, has beautiful smoky eyes, and has just the right ammount of manly hair.... ummmm. We broke up after he got a little too Indian on me and subtly began to suggest that I go for Hindi classes and start dressing more appropriately. The catalyst was when he came over for my 17th birthday party and I was wearing a barley there mini skirt and halter and buddy had the nerve to say that I should be embarrassed dressing that way in front of my family. I believe my final words to him were; if my parents don’t tell me how to dress, neither do you! Fast forward to today and it turns out I work with his cousin. He messaged me of FB last night saying he would love to meet up. The cousin claims he has learned the error of his conservative ways…..The question now is to meet or not to meet?
The fire alarm in my building went off at 4.23 am last night. At first I thought it was my annoying alarm. Problem is that we have no PA system so I had no idea if I had to vacate? Thus I poked my head out the door, didn’t see any smoke, went unto the balcony and didn’t see a fire truck. I then proceeded back into my bed and covered my head with a pillow. Ofcourse I couldn't sleep.
Miami’s friend emailed me to say that they are going Barbados Crop over this year. I almost cried. All my secret prayers, day dreams and childish fantasies are never going to come true. How sad. I almost want to call him, just to say hi. Would that be an incentive for him to change his plans??
Our work is taking us to the Docks today. The Docks is an entertainment complex in Toronto, and hosts one of TO’s oldest clubs. They even have an old fashioned drive thru theathre. I am looking forward to a tan.
Tonight I am meeting up with twelve boys who I grew up with in Dubai, visiting from all over the world. It will be a reunion of sorts. Most of them are married with kids. Sadly all the women from Dubai are now married and occupied with babies. I fear that I may be the only girl around. A picture of a tanned snow white and the twelve brown dwarfs comes to mind.
What are you guys up to this weekend?
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
A Summer Daze
Hello my lovelies it’s been such a long time.
You can’t blame a girl. It is finally a balmy 31 degrees in Toronto. It’s so hot and humid that little pools of sweat gather between your legs when you’re driving with your sunroof open.
Summer days go by quicker than wintry days. As you you fall asleep flashes of the day flicker in your head; your white tank top stuck with sweat to your now golden skin, the pretty smell of the flowers that you just planted, the earthy smell as a majestic thunderstorm rained on the earth cooling the preposterous heat, the lines of the book you just can’t get enough of…..
And then there are the men.
While things are quiet on the man front, one obvious trend is emerging. The many boys I grew up with in Dubai are now returning taller, hairier, successful and interested in me.
Sadly what I’ve realized that what I want right now is guy friend. Maybe one with a little potential. I want someone I can spend the entire summer with being kids again: swimming, going for ice cream, hanging out on the block, partying it up on weekends and so on. I’m tired of finding innovative ways of warning men that I am not going to sleep with them (FYI girls, a prominently placed box of kortex pads, works wonders!) I want to go back to the days when it was fun and games, a touch of innocence and carts of fun.
Is the summer heat getting to my head….can a girl and a guy spend the summer having a blast and use the winter to heat things up?
You can’t blame a girl. It is finally a balmy 31 degrees in Toronto. It’s so hot and humid that little pools of sweat gather between your legs when you’re driving with your sunroof open.
Summer days go by quicker than wintry days. As you you fall asleep flashes of the day flicker in your head; your white tank top stuck with sweat to your now golden skin, the pretty smell of the flowers that you just planted, the earthy smell as a majestic thunderstorm rained on the earth cooling the preposterous heat, the lines of the book you just can’t get enough of…..
And then there are the men.
While things are quiet on the man front, one obvious trend is emerging. The many boys I grew up with in Dubai are now returning taller, hairier, successful and interested in me.
Sadly what I’ve realized that what I want right now is guy friend. Maybe one with a little potential. I want someone I can spend the entire summer with being kids again: swimming, going for ice cream, hanging out on the block, partying it up on weekends and so on. I’m tired of finding innovative ways of warning men that I am not going to sleep with them (FYI girls, a prominently placed box of kortex pads, works wonders!) I want to go back to the days when it was fun and games, a touch of innocence and carts of fun.
Is the summer heat getting to my head….can a girl and a guy spend the summer having a blast and use the winter to heat things up?
And if so….are there any takers?
Wednesday, June 04, 2008
All Things Said & Done
Last night like millions of other crazed fans, the girls and I went to see Sex in the City.
The theatre was packed with all kinds of women, the brooding woman, the executive woman, the teenage becoming a woman, the twenty something ‘they wrote an entire episode about me’ woman, the fashionista ‘I spend all my hard earned cash on over priced labels’ kinda woman.
It was a woman fete.
The excitement in the theatre was palatable, a little buzz hummed through the entire movie, and as they played the traditional opening tune, the woman let a deep moan of anticipation.
Take note men, a mere tune made these ladies moan.
And as the movie went on, there was the clutching of the breast and wistful tongue hanging moments at the beautiful dresses, the heart wrenching that began, then fizzled out in a opium like lull.
And then there was my reaction.
I found the movie choppy at best. It was reminiscent of the last episode that was more fairy tale than true to the actual series. Watchers of the series know that it is at its best good satirical humorous writing punctuated by scenes of female fantasy like promiscuity. Heady topics of masturbation, oral sex, abortions, threesomes, infertility and the love of your life marrying a younger more gorgeous version of you are met head on. The movie however puts a little silver screen on it all. The truth is veiled in a pretty ending. The gut wrenching moments are brief and unattended to. The focus remains the perfect rescue.
Maybe I’m just cynical, but I couldn’t help but wonder, where was the rough stuff in all that fluff?
The theatre was packed with all kinds of women, the brooding woman, the executive woman, the teenage becoming a woman, the twenty something ‘they wrote an entire episode about me’ woman, the fashionista ‘I spend all my hard earned cash on over priced labels’ kinda woman.
It was a woman fete.
The excitement in the theatre was palatable, a little buzz hummed through the entire movie, and as they played the traditional opening tune, the woman let a deep moan of anticipation.
Take note men, a mere tune made these ladies moan.
And as the movie went on, there was the clutching of the breast and wistful tongue hanging moments at the beautiful dresses, the heart wrenching that began, then fizzled out in a opium like lull.
And then there was my reaction.
I found the movie choppy at best. It was reminiscent of the last episode that was more fairy tale than true to the actual series. Watchers of the series know that it is at its best good satirical humorous writing punctuated by scenes of female fantasy like promiscuity. Heady topics of masturbation, oral sex, abortions, threesomes, infertility and the love of your life marrying a younger more gorgeous version of you are met head on. The movie however puts a little silver screen on it all. The truth is veiled in a pretty ending. The gut wrenching moments are brief and unattended to. The focus remains the perfect rescue.
Maybe I’m just cynical, but I couldn’t help but wonder, where was the rough stuff in all that fluff?
Monday, June 02, 2008
Got some time off?
Got some money?
Wanna go on vacation?
I like being a single girl most of the times. I don’t chose to be single, but I don’t obsess about it either. I have nice things, I’m healthy, I meet interesting people all the time, so I’m content to await the future.
Sure there are times where my trunk is full of groceries, and I have to arduously carry 10 bags on each of my tiny little wrists, using my feet as door openers, banging my precious shins on doors, silently cursing my would be for apparently taking the longest route to me….
And then there are times like now, where I’ve got a bit of spare time, and a bit of spare cash, and would like to jet somewhere, and all my friends are otherwise occupied….and I have no one who is somewhat obligated to at least entertain the thought of going with me!
So I put it out to you, is it kosher to travel alone?
Not sightseeing in exotic places like Greece or Egypt, but to lie on a beach fancy free, all alone?
Or is that inviting trouble? Scenes of that girl who went missing in Aruba flash through my head.
Thoughts?
Pps. S is abandoning me for Dubai, so I am also recruiting for a fete partner.
Got some money?
Wanna go on vacation?
I like being a single girl most of the times. I don’t chose to be single, but I don’t obsess about it either. I have nice things, I’m healthy, I meet interesting people all the time, so I’m content to await the future.
Sure there are times where my trunk is full of groceries, and I have to arduously carry 10 bags on each of my tiny little wrists, using my feet as door openers, banging my precious shins on doors, silently cursing my would be for apparently taking the longest route to me….
And then there are times like now, where I’ve got a bit of spare time, and a bit of spare cash, and would like to jet somewhere, and all my friends are otherwise occupied….and I have no one who is somewhat obligated to at least entertain the thought of going with me!
So I put it out to you, is it kosher to travel alone?
Not sightseeing in exotic places like Greece or Egypt, but to lie on a beach fancy free, all alone?
Or is that inviting trouble? Scenes of that girl who went missing in Aruba flash through my head.
Thoughts?
Pps. S is abandoning me for Dubai, so I am also recruiting for a fete partner.
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