A few years back when Snakes on a Plane came out, I had purchased the title track by Cobra Starship specifically because it had the famous line from the flick delivered by Samuel L. Jackson opening the song. It’s one of the most hilarious lines I’ve ever heard in a movie.
It was on FX recently and the most hilarious line is now THE MOST HILARIOUS line. I love censorship.
My friend, J.Co, has been in Korea, teaching for the past year. Before she left, I had sent her a link to a blog post written by Boy’s friend, Joel. I wanted to warn her of children wanting to play shit needle with her.
What is shit needle? Shit needle is a game Korean children like to play, in which they attack unsuspecting victim’s dungholes with their 2 index fingers pointed together.
I’ve fallen victim to this game and it is not fun. I now walk with my hands covering my bum when I am with this person, specifically when I’m walking up a set of stairs.
J.Co attended the Korea Floritopia 2009 festival and posted the lovely photo below on her f-book. Shit needle really is popular, not a myth like I had thought. Ch-ch-check it out:
I love this so much. Also, to add a little fun and excitement to your otherwise blah Tuesday afternoon, play this shit needle-inspired game (which was linked from Joel’s blog post). Poopie!
Thanks for the pic, J.Co!
OMG! OMG! OMG! I’m trying to calm myself down but I’m too excited. I’ve always been a huge fan of east coast style (eeer… New York style to be exact) and finally it’s made easy!
Anna Sui is releasing a clothing line for Target inspired by my fav show, Gossip Girl. I can’t wait for this to debut! All it takes for me to be best dressed in the office is a day off, a few hours in a car to Buffalo, anxiety at the border and fighting crowds at Target. It will be well worth it, n’est pas?
Who will I dress like? Hmmmm… it’s a toss up between B and Vanessa. Who’s style do you like?
Check out the line here.
xoxo,
Gossip Girl
Since everyone else in Toronto is on strike, I’ve decided I will as well. I was an idiot this weekend. I had a girls’ night on Friday and it ended terribly. I won’t go into too many details but I’ll just say that my July TTC pass was revoked, it was only July 3rd. Argh!
So, in an attempt to punish the TTC, I refuse to use any of their services for the next 30 days. Or more! That’s right, I will walk or drive anywhere I need to be. I don’t care how environmentally unfriendly I’m being. I was treated poorly by a TTC employee and I know they are extremely unlikely to notice this loss, I don’t care. It makes me feel better.
I’m happy with this decision. After only 3 days back on the TTC (I was away for most of June so I didn’t get a pass), I’m already feeling some disease coming on. I’m happy to have the 4 walls of my car to myself, no unwanted germs or crazies disturbing my morning commute. Take that!
Tomorrow’s Canada Day, I’m not going to go into depth about how unhappy I am that it’s on a Wednesday and that I had to work Monday and Tuesday and have to go back to work Thursday and Friday. All the while, our American office will be enjoying Thursday and Friday off. End rant.
I’m sitting here, trying to figure out what I’ll be doing to celebrate the big day and am coming to countless hurdles. My first idea, ohhh, spend the day at the Island and watch fireworks (if you can spot them from the island, can you?). Sounds lovely, doesn’t it? Unfortunately, those plans won’t work out. The city of Toronto is currently a stinkfest. The city’s pesky union workers are on strike thus making things like garbage collection, ferries to and from the Island, many farmer’s markets on city property and many fireworks displays canceled, too. Very smart, union workers. Very. Smart. I don’t even think I’ll be able to enjoy some of the city’s parks as they’ve since become temporary garbage dumps. Disgusting.
So after some searching, I think I have a plan of action. BBQ at a friend’s house, then off to a free Constantine’s concert. That’ll do. Non?
So have a wonderful day off fellow Canadians. And to all of you lucky Americans who have the last 2 days of the week off, happy day to you as well.
We were discussing look-a-likes in the office today. A coworker thought I looked a little like Punky Brewster. You be the judge.
Had ice cream at Dutch Dreams with B last week and saw this on their shelf. Is it strange that I have a problem with this? It’s like Nutella, but gross.
In honour of MJ’s passing, I ask you: What’s your favourite Michael Jackson song?
Mine? Beat It. For dancing. Rock with You. For chilling out.
Thanks to scotteh on Flickr
Breaking news! I’m moving!
This decision wasn’t made because of my noisy neighbours. My lease is up in September, roomie is heading back home and Boy and I l-o-v-e each other enough to tolerate one another’s company in close quarters, as tested during our 8 day long trip out east, basically in isolation, and we didn’t beat each other up, threaten to break up or have superfights.
Searching for an apartment in Toronto is difficult, especially in September, when students are taking up all of the good places but not nearly as difficult as it is on Toronto Island. We started our search early and fortunately after only seeing 3 places we found the perfect place.
We had limited our search to just one Toronto neighbourhood: The Beach (or Beaches for those who don’t live there – superfight over which is the correct term), It’s Better in the Beach. The neighbourhood gives us the feeling of living in one of the cottages on the Island, far away from the downtown core, but in reality we’re so, so close to the hustle and bustle of the city… examine the photo above – CN Tower = hustle and bustle.
Our place is a cute 2 bedroom on the top floor of a triplex and totally 60s traditional. I’m in love with out adorable seafoam green tiled bathroom. The best thing about this place? Walk out the front door, look to the left, oh look at that a 2 minute walk to the beach. Look to the right, Queen St. is a 3 minute walk away – as is the cutest Startbucks in T.O. I’m also looking forward to hanging with my new neighbour and watching fabulous movies together at Fox Theatre.
So now that I’m a Beach resident, am I allowed to place a BEACH sticker on my car?
I’m up at 4am on a Saturday, writing this post. Why ever so, Ivana? Yoy may ask. Unfortunately, I’m not dealing with insomnia, a broken heart, nor am I too excited to get to sleep. The truth is, the neighbour above me is having a party tonight… again.
Since the weather got warmer, it seems that she’s been having guests over every weekend. Great! I’m glad she’s popular to demand this sort of dance card, much more popular than I. The problem is that week after week (after week) these parties run late into the night and not only wake me from my slumber, but keep me up and eff with my sleeping schedule!
I can’t believe I’ve become this person so young but I have and that’s just that, I can’t change it. So tonight, she had some friends out in the backyard. I had my window open on this lovely summer evening. But wait, what do I smell in my room now? Cigarettes! Argh! Fine, shut my window, no problem.
I knew that their talking was going to bother me, so I solved this by lulling myself to sleep with the lovely sounds of Arrested Development. This worked! I was out like a light. I was woken up around 2am to some super loud pop music. Grreeeaat. The minute I heard the pop music, I knew exactly where the night was heading.
Upstairs neighbour was in the first stage of drunk girl night. The stage where all is fun and dandy and top 40 music is where it’s at. It seemed that all of the songs she was playing were direct from my iPod. I managed to convince myself that she was stealing it from my iTunes. I had to ensure that the computer was no longer connected because I’d be damned if I was being kept up all night by my own music.
Soon after, she got into stage 2: ABBA. So much ABBA was playing only moments ago. To make matters worse, I could hear her singing. It’s terrible. It was at this point that I decided to pay her a visit and politely ask her to turn it down. I’m making out full words and can even hear her sing, it’s 3:30am, I don’t think I’m being crazy? Am I? Please confirm.
I finally get the courage to knock on her door. The talking stops momentarily, yet no one comes to answer. Strange. I wait a minute and knock a few times again. Louder. As I start knocking, I hear this terrible, nasal voice yell, but then yell louder as I continue to knock. Is she playing a game? Does she think this is funny? I wouldn’t put it past her, seeing as she barely has the tact to say, “hello” in the hallways… there’s 4 apartments in this house, come on now! Eventually I give up on the knocking, fearing I’ll try her doorknob next and that’ll be a whole other level of crazy.
Stage 3: the last dance. Or what usually is the last dance. But I feel like it’s just the beginning. She’s playing the Canadian bar, last call favourite, Home for a Rest. This is always the last song before heading out and it’s so painful to hear right now. Not only am I listening to this tune on high but I think they’re doing a jumping, skipping, folk dance jig. The floor is creaking, shaking and my nerves and patience are at their wits end.
It’s at this point where I decide that drastic times call for drastic measures. The Boy has told me that I’m famous for my passive aggressive notes and that I should post one of my notes to this site one day. I pull out my trusty passive aggressive notepad and start writing away. It wasn’t even mean, really. I explained that after 2 failed attempts to knock on her door, I’ve had to resort to this. Asked her to turn down her music and even signed my name, that’s not THAT passive aggressive, right? If you answered no, you may change your mind momentarily. I folded up the paper, wrote APT#2 in big, bold letters and taped it to the window by the front door. I then, rang her buzzer repeatedly and ran back to my apartment. In an effort to conceal my identity (although my name was on the letter), I turned my lights off and didn’t lock the door – she was right there, it would’ve been far too obvious. I wait a few minutes, as she retreats back to her apartment, expecting for the music to be lowered, or worse, put up even more. Nothing happens. WTF?!
BITCH DIDN’T TAKE THE NOTE!!!!
At this point, she’s entered stage 4: Classic rock. I don’t know if there’s a stage after this one, so I’m hoping her evening will come to a close shortly. I’m cutting this stage short, because in all honesty, I started writing this after I left her the note, it’s 4:42am. She turned off the music a few minutes ago and all is quiet up there now. She’s asleep and I’m sitting here, writing about how I’m waiting for the music to stop so I can get back to bed. I’m the only loser awake in this house now. Now, as I abruptly leave this post, I must retire. Peace out, homies.
 | Morgan on Censorship at it’s … |
 | Jen on Shit Needle |
| Morgan on Shit Needle |
 | uptownsmalltown on XOXO, Gossip Girl |
 | Hey on XOXO, Gossip Girl |
