#the lady's lounge

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How Not To Dress Like A Milk Man

How NOT to dress like a Milk Man?? You come to ME looking for the answer to this question?

The married men stalker thing I get, even the barnyard love thing, I mean, I do talk about Goats A LOT - But how not to dress like a milk man?

How did you even find me in the sea of other potential Google results to that query?

OH MY GOD!

I just googled "How Not To Dress Like a Milk Man" and, after the condescending "did you mean How not to dress like a milkman?" message, the FIRST result is ME!!!! What the hell??

What about all those poor people who actually need answers here?? Google please! For the love of God! Send them to a helpful sight, like DLMMA or something!

Okay, I just googled "dress like a milkman anonymous" and all I got was this weird play, Psychiatrist Milkman Complaints, which probably won't help you at all, but it's amusing and might take your mind off your dilemma for a few minutes.

Wait. Is it an actual dilemma? Maybe I just completely overreacted. I tend to do that.

So, just to clarify, is this like, a thing where you think you dress a little too much like a door-to-door dairy provider and are aiming for a new look, or are you plagued by the driving, wanting, desire to dress like a Milk Man, and it's all you can do to resist the temptation?

Because this might just be a matter of wearing more Jeans and T-Shirt ensembles and less White bed jackets with dairy logos on the pockets.

Unless you work for Pike Dairy, in which case...

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Relax <strike>Don't</strike> Do It

Although I was disappointed (read heartbroken) that thing 2 changed her mind, and decided, at the very last minute, that she didn't want to come to Boston with me this weekend...

Although I was sad to learn that my sister and her brood would be leaving my mom's place before I even arrived...

Although I was a little bummed out to find out that my baby brother, his wife and their new baby were all sick and feverish and unable to make the trip out from New Jersey...

Although I was not happy at all to hear that my Uncle's girlfriend was too ill to travel and they would both be staying at home in New York this weekend...

I was happy to have a comfy couple of days with my mom, her husband and my grandmother (who had flown all the way from France).

I was thrilled to get away from Montréal for a couple of days, to regroup, rejuvenate and also to do something that I realized I have actually long forgotten how to do.

Nothing.

It took me hours to settle in to the chaise lounge and stop squirming about, stressing about all the things that I need to get done this month, wondering how many of them I could get done from here, worrying about whether or not I had forgotten to do *anything before I left.

Empty your mind, I thought, release your worries and cares. Oh my GOD! I forgot my agenda at home! How will I know what I am supposed to do tomorrow???

You are on vacation (you idiot) you have nothing to do. Your agenda is empty for the next 3 days. Just breathe.... Oh phew! I have my iPhone iCal, let's see... do dee doo dee doo... here we go. Sunday, August 26th 2012: Boston

See? Now be quiet and breathe. Just take it allllll in and exhale.Good. Again,

Seriously? Didn't I bring any work with me at all? Isn't there a to do list or a post-it stuck to my wallet or something? Anything?

I wiggled and wormed and opened and closed my book 6 or 7 times, in protest. I took glasses off and put them back on a few times and changed sides. As if to prove to no one that it was clearly even physically impossible for me to do nothing but sit here and read.

But eventually, after glaring at my foot for some time, I was distracted by the beautiful butterflies and bumble bees, and the sound of the cicadas mingling with the neighbour's radio broadcast of a baseball game, and their American flag slapping against the side of their house.

Eventually I was lulled by the melodic swishing of tree branches and the warm sun softly snuggling against my face and neck

That and the glass of single malt my mother hand fed me with an olive spoon. Okay, she didn't feed it to me with an olive spoon, that would be weird. She just held the straw upright for me. Okay fine, there was no straw. It was in a glass, but my mom still brought it out to me and it was really tasty. And relaxing.

And I relaxed. Finally. And it felt reeeeeeeeeally good.

Last night we had supper at a lovely little restaurant called Vee Vee, in Jamaica Plain. If you haven't been there and have the chance to, do it. The mushroom stuffed veggies were delicious and so was the Pinot Noir.

This morning my mother's dog, Violet, came pouncing on the bed and told me to get my ass up out of bed, so I dragged myself out up and went for a 40 minute run. It was my first ever run in Boston - 45 minutes of winding roads, rivers and bridges. It was really beautiful (and even relaxing).

I followed that up with a gallant yet fruitless attempt at yoga, which isn't as easy as you might think with a full sized greyhound trying to climb you while you're doing it.

Then I had breakfast and watched last night's episode of Weeds with my Mama, and after lunch, I finished. My.Book. DUM DUM DUM!!!!

What?? Finished a book in under 6 months?? Shut the hell up? Is this the new you??

And then! I Relaxed AGAIN!!

I know right?

If I wasn't in- not one but- TWO awesome shows in Montréal in the next two weeks, I'd totally stay here forever. Or at least until I had finished one or two more books.

*I did forget to empty the maggots I found in the garbage can outside, on the back porch before leaving, but if it's been as hot back home this weekend as it has been here, they've surely dried up in the sun or inched their way to safety by now. Right?

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Ask And You Shall Receive... If You're Doing It Right

I don't think I've been doing this right.

Don't get me wrong, I am grateful for the serendipitous moments in my life and I LOVE my lumpy sofa, but in general, I don't think I'm getting my message to the universe/higher power that be/God efficiently.

I think there is a little broken telephone going on.

I'm just saying...

I have written lists of "Things to make room for"

I have chanted with my beautiful pink prayer beads,

"Grant me physical and mental health, wealth and abundance"

hundreds and hundreds of times a day for weeks and weeks and weeks on end.

I wrote myself a cheque for 2 million dollars and carried it around in my wallet for 5 years (it worked for Jim Carrey didn't it?)

I have meditated, prayed and visualized - Which, by the way, I am having a hard time differentiating from fantasizing.

I'm certain I'm doing it wrong, unless "visualizing" means spending 80% of my day daydreaming about the ever-changing to-do list I would set out to accomplish, had I any money, interrupted by hallucinated shorts about where the money came from.

Sometimes I imagine that the government reviews its files, realizes it (as a whole, the whole entire dickly government) is an dick for denying me my late husband's pension after 14 years of torturing each-other and raising a brood of his children and so-on, because we weren't legally married - Subsequently leading to six years of retroactive payments being deposited into my account. No need for an apology government, a cash settlement will call it even.

Some days I conjur up a secret special document with bank notes (whatever those are) or bonds or investments that one of my Grandfather's willed to me (and nobody realized it until now) and they have grown into hundreds of thousands of non-taxable dollars! Surprise!!

These sorts of fantasies usually lead me to feeling ashamed and guilty for thought-crime, in the form of exploiting the un-living and yearning for secret-surprise money that I didn't technically earn.

This naturally leads to me imagining up virtual literary agents, talent scouts, publishing houses etc... who have read my blog, seen me perform, basked in my presence and come to offer me millions of dollars in advance for writing my book, recording an album or just being me.

Which then makes me feel pressured to do those things, consequently blocking my terribly fragile, creative soul, subsequently leading me to fall deeply into a really shitty mood.

Which makes me crave Thai food and comfort...

Which makes me wish I wasn't poor...

Which makes me dream up all the things I would do if I had money...

So I write a mental to-do list...

Is that "visualizing"?

I walked by a neighbours house last week and saw this on the front lawn, right near the sidewalk: And I realized, I am DEFINITELY doing this wrong.

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Squirrels, Snails and Joggers

I promise and swear on the head of my mother's garden gnome's first born gnomette that The Lady's Lounge isn't turning into a running blog.

Not only because of my certainty that none of my 4 readers (my cat subscribed last week) are avid runners, but also because you, you, you and Phoebe all know that this running thing is probably just on my passing fixations.

Also, as well, as proud as I am to be moving my larger than life-size ass and publicly announcing it, every time it happens, I imagine the posts would get a little too redundant... if they haven't already. That is.

That having been said...

In addition to doing a minimum of 30 minutes of yoga each day, I ran 30 minutes on both Monday and Friday, and Wednesday I ran 40 minutes.

I know it's not tons, but for me it's huge and I'm super happy.

HAPPY!

In the mornings, between 6:30 and 7:00 am, there are very few cyclists on the bike path. It's predominantly frequented by squirrels, snails and joggers.

I smile at them all and I appreciate their presence.

I noticed I took very few walking breaks this week and I realized it's because I think of the other people on the path as motivation.

I don't want them to see me give up -

They are pretty much my own fleet of personal trainers, checking up on me at various points on my run.

They wave or smile knowingly... but I know this is just code for

"Don't phone it in Jen! Keep moving!"

Sometimes, I even pretend that the squirrels are in on it.

Yesterday, one of my coaches tried hiding in the lawn of a neighbouring apartment building.

I'll admit I stopped for this one though, but only long enough to get him on film.

Tomorrow morning I'm up at 5:00 am to jump on a bus to Boston, to visit my Mama.

I'm hoping I'll keep this workin' it up, even while I'm there.

Wonder what kind of cheering team awaits me there...

[photospace]

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Running Group And Other Crimes Against Humanity

So, a couple of weeks ago, I went to a running group.

There.

Because I am an idiot was so full of enthusiasm, and also, to psych myself up I went for a run the day before...

Needless to say, I approached the running group track with style. Hunch-back-of-Notre-dame style, dragging a leg behind me and wincing with every step.

At any rate. I ran (and by ran I mean jogged reeeeeally slowly) over 3k that day and, while many of you are scoffing at my pathetic amateur-ity, I was CRAZY proud of my damn-self.

I have been finding it hard to find time to run, and when I finally have time, I find it hard to find the energy, because it's usually after a long-ass day of work, or an accidental pint of wine.

Ooops! I was going to go running too... why did I drink that? Oh well...

Also, I hate running without music, but my headphones get super soggy and disgusting if I wear them while exercising.

Yesterday I did something brilliant.

I bought a tacky Velcro iPod band, AND sweat-proof ear-buds. I was hesitant because I have never found any that don't fall out of my ears.

I tested them out yesterday and the iPod pouch fits my iPhone OR my iPod and a house-key, with room for my bank card (in case of a wine emergency on the way home) and the ear-buds stay in my ears!

Wohoooooo!!

I hope I keep this up, it is hard to motivate myself to do but once I am doing it, and especially once it's over, I feel amazing.

Of course I decided that my goal is to run in the New York City Marathon, which is in exactly

(No big deal)

But I thought maybe, as well as this totally attainable, piece a cake fantasy mission, I could set some baby-step goals too.

No idea what they are yet mind you, but in the meantime, I'm having a great time limping hobbling jogging running around the neighbourhood and pissing people off on the bike path.

Oh shut up! I always jump out of the cyclists way, and into the bushes, when they come along. And also, there are no trees on the pedestrian side of the road and the sun makes me break out into hives. So does exercising mind you. I am the only person I know who is literally allergic to exercise.

Onward!! Jogging and skipping and chafing and scratching at the hives on my face and the stinging nettle on my ankles!

Is there such thing as a quarter marathon? Or maybe an eighth?

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This Fine Week End Wrap-Up

I had been planning to go to Boston this weekend, but my trip has been postponed until next week so I resigned myself to take advantage of having 2 whole days and 3 whole nights off with no obligations or responsibilities, and I decided to officially plan to do absolutely nothing but rest and rejuvenate until Monday.

But...

Friday night was the second annual NDG Food Depot BLOCK PARTY FUNDRAISER and official unveiling of their new Depot mural: [photospace] There was live music, Hot Dogs, Burgers, Veggie Burgers, Corn on the Cob and juicy delicious Barbecued Pineapple kabobs. I was really impressed by how many people showed up. There were neighbours, cats, dogs and children of all ages and I was/am proud to be part of such an awesome community.

Around 9 o'clock, Thing 2 and her boyfriend decided to leave us and go catch a movie. Franky volunteered us to walk them to the theatre and buy their tickets, despite his famed hate-on for Hollywood-Mainstream, and when we arrived, I just happened to notice that To Rome With Love was playing and next thing you know...

the clock strikes 1am and we're wandering home through Westmount with a sound track in our ears and visions of cobble-stone streets, beautifully crafted shoes and naked Italian criminals dancing through our heads...

Okay, probably not Franky's head so much. He was probably on about product placement and corporate brainwashing and honestly...

I know. I get it. But sometimes I just want eat popcorn and pretend the world doesn't completely suck. Just sometimes.

Saturday Night, Cherry Typhoon was making her Montreal writing/directing/producing debut, Bad Ladies And The Detective at Theatre St-Catherine, so naturally I had to go.

It was delightfully funny, sexy and entertaining and I am so so so so so so happy that I went.

Tonight is True Blood, which means that I have to celebrate (and impress my cat any guests who might show up) by making something red and full of sticky, sugary awesome.

And also to fill up that tiny extra bit of annoying breathing room along the waistband of my jeans.

At the beginning of the season, I would just buy strawberries, red candies and ketchup chips and what-have-you, but after a few episodes I got inspired to bake...

A few weeks ago I made True Blood Cupcakes:

And then, a week or two later, these ones:

Last Sunday I made Cherry Pie, which was tasty but the crust was somewhat dense. If anyone knows the magic trick for making vegan pie-crust flaky, please share. :

I haven't decided what to make for this episode yet though. It's so beautiful today, that all I feel motivated to do is lay outside in a field of dandelions but inspiration will come to me.... I know it will.

Strawberry Shortcake? Berry crumble? Bleeding truffles maybe? Any suggestions?

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Creativity falls from vagina!

Lady Gaga was recently quoted as saying

"I have this weird thing that if I sleep with someone they’re going to take my creativity from me through my vagina""

And also,

Larry King: You wanna have children?

Lady Gaga: Yes, someday. Oh [indecipherable] my womb is not yet beckoning for a child, but I'm very far away from that day. I'm also terrified it will ruin my creativity.

Oh Gaga... so young, so naive.

First of all, creativity doesn't free fall from your vagina. The cervix keeps it all snug as a bug up there.

Also, children don't ruin creativity, they breed it like maggots in a bag of decomposing juicing-carrots.

Children teach you how to do all sorts of things much more creatively than you have ever imagined, such as:

Creative ways to...

Turn $60 into a back to school wardrobe.

Create a gourmet meal out of chickpeas, apples, rice, peanut butter and lettuce.

Problem solve. IE turn your boyfriend's T-Shirt into a diaper in under a minute and build a playpen out of twigs, a dog leash and turtle pool etc...

Discipline your ovarian spawn while making them believe that it was their idea (also comes in handy for spouses).

Manage your time effectively. IE: Get everyone off to school, go to work, gym, grocery shop, make food, homework, bath, bed etc... and still have alone time to drink a bottle of wine, play with your new vibrator AND stalk your ex-boyfriend and his new girlfriend on facebook for a good hour or two before going to sleep.

Channel rage into singing, dancing and compulsive power cleaning.

Multi-Task. IE: Clean the house, make supper, exercise, talk on the phone, shave the dog and stalk your new boyfriend's ex-girlfriend on facebook all at the same time.

Maintain some semblance of a sex life (not that you'd need one Gags, what with your fear of lovers sucking your soul out through your birth canal).

Hide chocolate one-night-stands boyfriends porn cleaning agents and drugs grown-up fizzy drinks from minors.

Wrestle parental angst while simultaneously creating the facade that I am supermom.

And the list goes on really it does.

Readers, Parents, Grandparents, Aunties, Uncles, siblings and babysitters alike. Please. Feel free to add to the list so Lady G, who undoubtedly reads my blog religiously, can procreate without hesitation. I'd love for her to have babies because  if she thinks a stupid meat dress, is shocking, she ain't seen nuthin' yet.

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Octomama vs The three stooges a 12 year old republican and Barbara ( I used to have respect for you) Walters.

I never watch the view, but today I stopped pretending to work, to sit and have an early lunch in front of the television and was subject to the abuse of witnessing "The View". I think I used to like that show once...

Dear "The View", So today's victim on your show was Octomom, Nadya Suleman.

Let me say first that I really hate it when the entire hypocritical mass that is otherwise known as the society of North America, stages these ignorant judgmental hate campaigns against people in the public eye.

Let me say secondly that I find it grossly inappropriate, somewhat unprofessional and hugely juvenile when celebrities with your level of influence over mass audiences, feed this mob mentality.

Before I begin to dig in to your delicious interview, let me also say that I think it's probably a given that it's not a good idea to give birth to 8 babies when you already have 6 and don't have the means to support them. In fact, I'd say it's probably a given that having 14 kids is pretty stupid no matter who you are. HOWEVER, I also feel that somebody who does choose to do this does not deserve to be villainized and publicly humiliated for it.

Furthermore I think that anyone who stages an interview that they know will only prove to be hurtful and potentially devastating to the children of the subject is grossly irresponsible even when they do it under the guise of being concerned for those children, their health and well being.

You asked her if she realized that there are many people who think maybe she isn't "all there". She told you that she agreed that her ideals were at times indicative that she had phases of being somewhat in denial or delusional about how much should could take on.

You ladies jumped on that one like flies on shit didn't you?

And then she continued to say that if she were truly mentally unstable she would have drowned a long time ago. So, in case you missed it, her answer was a resounding NO but you had to go and say something really stupid like "delusional and in denial sounds mentally unstable to me." Really???? None of you have been delusional or in denial? EVER? Because I only have 3 kids and I'm there most of the time. It may be the only form of coping that I know.

And if in fact, if I had never in my life had moments of delusion or denial, I assure you, none of my children would have been born.

You clearly only invited her on the show to attack and ridicule her. WHY?

So she has a billion kids..and she is supporting them by enduring these monotonous yet grueling and abusive interviews with people like you, and writing a book about her experience. WHO THE HELL CARES?

So you're pissed that she doesn't have a plan for how to support her kids after the interviews and interest in her book dry up. I get that.

I know, the world of acting is such a stable employment pool but it's actually possible that you, with maybe the exception of Barbara, could all lose your jobs tomorrow and potentially never get another gig for as long as you live. Should we berate you for having children?

Oh no wait... you're not mad that she has children, you're mad that she has too many children. You're worried that she is stretching herself too thin to properly provide for them emotionally as a parent. Right...

I must have missed the episode where you all ganged up on Angelina Jolie.

Speaking of Nadya and thin, was I imagining things or did you even show some resentment for her getting back in shape after the pregnancy, by working out 3 hours a day? So if you're Madonna or Gwyneth Paltrow, it's dedicated, sexy and hot. If it's Nadya Suleman it's...what? Shallow, self serving and neglectful?

Or were you implying that she has an "unnatural" bikini body. You don't really want to go there do you Barbara?

The only fun in watching that interview was how Nadya nervously deflected most of your questions while babbling quite eloquently and bursting into "maniacal" cackling as Sherri called it. Speaking of which, it was a bit sad the way that Sherri, after asking a non-question, seemingly had nothing intelligent to say at all and reduced the interview to mocking Nadya for the way she laughs. Absolute brilliance.

Also, pretty pathetic that you stooped to picking at the single mother of a trillion kids who you yourselves, for all intents and purposes, have clearly deemed "mentally unstable". Classy.

If only she were on Jersey Shore, you showed the clearly "mentally unstable" cast of that train wreck about 100 times the respect and they have about a 100th of the intelligence put together as Nadya does alone.

Et tu PETA?

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