“i’m the princess from the neverending story!”

Word for word that's what came out of his mouth as soon as he put this on. It’s my Tidus necklace from Final Fantasy X. I love it. So (apparently) does Jeremy. I was going to just put up one pic but the sweetie pie, zoolander, evil grin and coming to get you poses were too good to pick a favourite.





Now we all know how Clara likes to play dress-up and Jeremy has done this sort of thing before. I find that dress-up, however brief or elaborate, is an essential part of life. If you don’t dress-up, even in private, you’re missing out. Ladies (or gents) just put on some really red lipstick that you’d never wear in public but somehow have in your makeup bag and sit around watching TV. Have some ultra swank jewellery you never have occasion to wear? Slap it on before heading to the corner store. Put on a towel cape before taking out your garbage. It’s a wonderful sense of freedom and just plain fun!! I highly recommend it. And take pictures. Then email them to me. Really.

If any of you do take the plunge into silliness let me know. I would be thrilled! I’ll try to do something new and post it to nerve you people up. It shouldn’t be hard, something that you have to sit there and think about, that would take the joy out of it. Just let the next whim that takes you – take you. All the way baby.


Also here is Jeremy playing the didge (you’ve heard him but now you can see the miracle happen!) and these grouse claw pins I got for Denise at Christmas. They’re kilt pins and a perfect example of a quick and easy way to dress-up. And I don’t mean formal ‘dress-up’. I mean dressup!! As in tickle trunk.

pellow

When I did the johovoveeech post the other day I got some great feedback. Certain words sound American - that we can all agree on. There is an area of dissent ho. The American bloggers think that pronouncing pillow as ‘pellow’ is a Canadian thing, whereas the Canadians think it must be American.

I say ‘pellow’. That’s right I admit it. But now that my American friends have disabused me of the notion that it’s their influence I’m a little baffled. Where did I get this tendency? I’ll see if my family knows but if any of you know someone who says ‘pellow’ please let me know where they’re from. I’m quite curious. I’m inclined to believe that this is just something my odd little imagination came up with. Knowing me that’s a strong possibility.

Moving on, Tom (among others) where amused by my pronunciation of Mila Jovovich. He particularly requested that I say M. Night Shyamalan. I don’t necessarily do requests but M. Night happens to be one of the names I say oddly, right up there with Mila. I didn’t put it up here the first time because I don’t think it’s as Jovovich but since you asked – here’s me saying M. Night Shyamalan. Enjoy.

I hope you all realize that this isn’t me trying to be funny (well I always am a little) but it’s how I actually say these names. If you ever meet me try to steer the conversation to these names, you’ll see. If M. Night ever does a movie starring Mila you’ll be all set. I think Jeremy would expire from glee. Shrug.


p.s. Check out my Personal DNA Report (via Binsk). It’s pretty cool. We’re both addicted to internet quizzes, although I'm doing better these days. The results of my addiction can be found here. It’s awful when I think about how many hours I’ve spent on these things. It’s like figuring out how much money I spend on cigarettes. Shudder.

best google search ever to lead to this blog:

david hasselhoff flashing speedo animation


Whoever you are - thank you. Really, really.

Thanks.

johovoveeech

I’ve been told on more than one occasion that I have an American accent. Huh.

Now I’m born and bred Canadian. So how, you may ask, does such a thing happen? Well I’ll tell ya. I grew up very close to buffalo and hence all the TV and radio absorbed during my formative years was American, and we watched A LOT of TV. I’m something of a mimic too. When my sister came back from camp or some such thing she had a slight accent from her Australian roommate. Within a day I had it too. I didn’t mean too, I’m just very impressionable. Anyhoo this American thing doesn’t seem to be fading at all. Maybe my years with the Niagara Parks perked it up a bit; I dealt with a lot of tourists. I had a few of them ask which side of the border I was from. Jeremy loves it. Why? I have no clue, but it never fails to make him laugh. I think that’s another reason my so-called accent has stuck. Subconsciously I’m playing it up because it amuses him. He’s just so cute when he’s amused. It’s all goody and hands clapped together. Adorable.


You should see his face when I say Mila Jovovivh.

Hey that’s the best I can do!



Some people don’t hear an American accent so I’ll let you judge for yourselves. Here I am saying “Bagel, town, pants, milk, pillow”. I figure those were the choice words. I’d especially like to know what my American blogfriends think. This is, after all, your area.

room for one more

Milo will be re-prodded tomorrow so there will be no post my luvlies. Just a warning. I’ll be back Friday. If you miss me you can scroll down a post and listen to me and Jeremy playing the didgeridoo or trying to, respectively.

I found this link (via webjunkie). It’s a store that sells group clothing. I wasn’t sure exactly how to describe them so here are some examples. I don’t think I could get Jeremy to go for these; the man won’t even kiss me in public. I live near the village and he thinks it’s an insult to the gay community if breeders flaunt their heteroness. Yeah he’s so metro it hurts. Anyway the dancing shoes are probably a good idea. There’d be no escaping my awkward flailing bear movements then! Hahaha!



I’m particularly fond of the couch dress. No really. If this thing were cheaper I would totally buy one. I would always be comfy. So would anyone else who happened to be on the couch with me. I’d just have to remember to wear pants.

Well underwear at the very least.

the delightful droning of clara and company

I just can't say no to a fan. Or y'know, people in general.
Since you’ve all been very good here it is: Clara playing the didgeridoo, very masterfully I might add. I just need to learn circular breathing and I'll be able to do it indefinitely. Awesome. I’ll join a band.

Because I’m so proud of him for getting the knack of it, here’s Jeremy finally figuring out how to play the didgeHe’s decided he’s now a ‘Didgeridoo Master’. No really that’s exactly what he said.

I think whoever masters circular breathing first will earn that title.

The race is on.....

reunited and it feels so good

I have a didgeridoo. I got it in public school have haven’t been without it since. I would occasionally bring it to school. I brought it with me when I went to university and naturally it came with me to Toronto. Unfortunately when I moved downtown it somehow got lost. Maybe it went with my Ex’s things when we moved out, maybe it unknowingly was sent back with my parents and a few things I no longer wanted. It was a mystery. A mystery I contemplated endlessly in great sadness.

Until last night.

I was looking for Jeremy’s ipod in the clothes pile in my room. I went deeper than I had in months. I moved aside some empty cardboard boxes that have been sitting there since I unpacked and – gasp – I saw it. Nestled against the wall, lengthwise on the floor. My baby. My didgeridoo.

I was so excited. I shrieked with joy and pulled him out of the mire, knocking over a few things in the process. Jeremy thought I was having a seizure. It took me a few minutes to play it properly but I got that drone down. My lips must’ve tightened up without regular use. Of the didgeridoo, preverts. Jeremy still can’t do it but he’s not giving up. He ran out of the shower to try it, reasoning that the steam loosened his lips. We’ve decided the neighbours will all hate us but don’t care. They play jungle music at like 8am on Sundays.


Anyhoo some of you may have picked up on the fact that my didgeridoo was missing for nearly 2 years and it turns out it was on my floor. I looked for it on many an occasion but no luck. THAT is how messy my apartment is. When I first found it and showed it to Jeremy he said ‘it was on the floor this whole time?’ ‘Yep.' 'You know what this means.’ (Clara’s quizzical face) ‘It’s time to clean the apartment’.





I agree. Jeremy can get started and I’ll keep his spirits up with moving didge music. It’s really quite soulful.

Ah I missed you so.

Did you miss me?

I like to think so.

depilatory madness

Well I’ve really done it this time.

Over the years I’ve done a lot of stupid things in the name of beauty. Countless hair colourings, shaving the underside of my hair, toothpaste on zits, mud on my face, egg in my hair – you name it. Usually these things turn out okay; well at least they’re not disasters. My luck ran out last night.

I’m a blonde. Not terribly fair-haired but my body hair is white blonde. Arms, legs, peach fuzz whatever. Excluding certain areas (do I really have to say pubic hair? I hope not, this is a family blog. Oh and armpits. But we don’t have to dance around that), everything is fair. I’m lucky I don’t have to bleach a moustache get my eyebrows waxed. In fact I have to use powder to fill in my eyebrows or they just aren’t visible. Anyhoo last year I bought facial Nair for that annoying peach fuzz and between the brows messiness that frankly I can’t be bothered to pluck. I always get three hairs in and decide the pain and patience isn’t worth it. I always preferred more natural looking brows anyway. I probably used that tube of Nair way past it’s expiration because near the end I’d have to leave the goop on for 15 min and it’d still leave hairs behind. With this sort of mindset I cracked into a brand new tube. I slapped it on my face and around my brows to clean up stray hair overflow. I waited the designated time (well a little over) then excitedly washed it off and peered at my new smooth and silky visage.

Sigh.

I’m a somewhat careless person. I don’t colour in the lines, my clothes are always semi wrinkled and my hair is quite flyaway. So far it’s worked for me. Unfortunately when I looked in the mirror last night I was smooth in areas I really wanted to keep hairy. I didn’t quite safeguard my eyebrow the way I should have and now I’m missing a quarter of it. I really do miss it. With creative powder use and a reluctant but necessary eyebrow comb over I’m not a freak today. Pretty close tho. I didn’t cry when it happened. I nearly did. I wanted to. It was just so funny. So I laughed.

Now you can too. It’s okay, you know you want to.



This isn’t the first time I’ve been sans eyebrow. Once in public school I was playing blindman's bluff with my sisters and one of them (you know who you are) didn’t tell me that I was about to smack into a tetherball pole – so I did. My face bounced off that thing and I fell flat on my back. She maintains that I made an abrupt about face, thereby making a warning impossible. Either way, having a slightly Neanderthal brow, that was the first area to hit and my eyebrow area puffed up and the hair fell out. My eyebrows haven’t matched since; tho it’s usually better than they are right now.







Does this look like resignation? Wry, rueful self-deprecation?

Well it is.

Sigh.

well...

Huh. There’s an old woman sitting here using the phone. She has a hearing aid in and it is cranked. It’s making that high pitched whine that hearing aids make and it’s been doing it for the last 7 minutes. It’s warping my brain. I’m nearly at the point where I am going to rip out my own eardrums. Must…. maintain.

By the way I forgot to brush my teeth this morning. No one’s noticed. Well no ones said anything. Fingers crossed.

Pseudo celebrity jailbirds

For your enjoyment, here are the actual conversations that took place last night, regarding the news on Derrell & Terrell Brittenum from American Idol and the kilted Alexander Keith’s guy from the commercials.

Watching American Idol. The bit about the Brittenum twins arrest comes on.
Jer: “I knew it! They seemed like grifters’
Me: ‘ Yeah I can’t say I’m really that surprised. Not grifter-like tho. I think of John Cusack when I think of grifters.’
Jer: (questioning look)
Me: ‘From the movie Grifters with Jessica Lange and John Cusack.’
Jer: ‘Ah’
Me: ‘ I love John Cusack’



Me: ‘Hey you know that guy from the Keith’s commercials?’
Jer: “Dead?’ (Hopeful face)
Me: ‘No, arrested. Child porn.’
Laughter.

From the article I linked above - Regarding the arrest: "Asked what kind of beer Mr. Smith keeps in his home, the officer said: "Come to think of it, there was Keith's and Corona." I'm glad the reporters have thier priorities straight.

aching desires

I’m sure you know what I mean when I talk about things that you want to achieve in your life. There are different levels. Things I want to do this year, things I want to do in my lifetime, etc. Not things you need to do, but things that make your heart ache you want them so badly. I was thinking about this last night. I’ve come up with three desires in three different categories.

Ability to Dance
The sooner the better
Last weekend we had our annual formal work soiree and like all other events I’ve attended with Jeremy I feel guilty once the dancing starts. You just know he wants to get up there. He’s wriggling in his seat to the music and, bless him, he tries every single time to get me to dance by standing and extending an arm very gallantly. I just can’t make myself get up there. It’s been so long that I feel extremely awkward. I literally yearn to be up there, cutting loose. I remember university and how you couldn’t pull me off the dance floor. No I wasn’t any better then, just in practice and more confident. And drunker. But anyway I think dance lessons would help me out. It wouldn’t just be learning actual steps, but doing it on a regular basis that would boost my confidence and get me out of the floor. This I want to do by next year’s party. Jeremy has already agreed.

Having something I wrote published
Before death
Now we all know that I’ve called myself a writer since I was in grade 2. That was my first taste of creative writing and I’ve never loved anything like I love pen on paper. Typing is growing on me. A few years ago this goal would have been more specific – Have a novel published. But as I exercise my creative brain on a daily basis (sometimes with good results, sometimes not), I realize that I really just love writing shit down. I’m much more eloquent with the written word than I am verbally. Sometimes I hear the most awful English coming out of my mouth. Like boughten. True story. Anyway I’d just like some sort of proof that I’m good at it, and I’m right in feeling like it is an integral part of me. What better way than to get something published? Otherwise I fear I’ll be someone who ‘used to write poetry in high school’. No rush, hence the ‘before death’ category. I don’t need fame or fortune, just a copy of a published work that I can pull out at bus stops and parties to show strangers. That’s all.

Go into space/check out another planet
Probably never going to happen
For as long as I can remember I have spent several minutes of my day gazing at the stars and just wishing. Well not so much now as I can’t really see them here in the city but whenever I can, I gaze longingly. I can still see the moon and that totally works too. If you ever are drinking with me and we‘re outdoors with a good view of the sky, get ready for a moving 20-minute spiel on a poor girls thwarted love affair with space. Blame Arthur C. Clarke and Star Trek TNG I guess. Anyway I know that unless they really do start letting people buy their way into space, and I get a ker-chillion dollars, this ain’t happening. But it still makes me ache and a girl can dream can’t she?

Feel free to share your own aching desires; I do so love to hear about you people.


For no reason here is a pic of me all dolled up from the work party I mentioned, and the flowers that Jeremy sent me at work. I would like to thank all the people who work with him that told him he had to send flowers, especially after I mentioned that I would be accepting flowers for other people all day and they are never for me. I ended up getting the BIGGEST bouquet of the day. Thank you.

happy heart day!

Jeremy displayed his romantic capabilities this morning. I woke up and stumbled to the bathroom where I discovered the bathroom sink was overflowing onto my hair care products because SOMEONE left the faucet dripping when he left for work. There is no drainage right now. Anyway as I was cursing Jeremy and heading into the living room I saw it. A single rose in a vase. Upon closer inspection I saw it was a leather rose. Stunning. Awhile back we were walking by Northbound Leather and he pointed them out to me. I made a big fuss over them. Under the vase was a charming note written on the back of some Unreal Tournament cheats I had printed. It said ‘I choo-choo-choose you’. Adorable. I love you too Ralph.






Happy Valentine’s Day to everyone I know and I hope you celebrate love today, not just the humping kind.

Mwah.

o happy day

Mummy sent me a valentine’s package of chocolate from the family shop.

AND I got a card from my hitherto undiscovered grandfather.

AND I have din with the pseudo in-laws tonight.

I am so great. I must rock hardcore.

What a FABULOUS day.

I hope you all are enjoying it.

Pics via exploding dog.

If not, read this. You will larf out loud. It’s about one of those little lap dogs dressed in designer clothes and how much it hates it. Funny. That should boost ya right up. Here's a sample:

"Lady, just because your boyfriend doesn’t want to settle down, doesn’t mean you should pretend that I’m a real baby in hopes that he’ll play along in your twisted game of “house”. I promise you’re scaring him off, and it makes you look insane. Think about it, you dress me like a Gap employee and tote me around like a damned fashion accessory. It’s disgusting, and you need to get your shit straight. Meantime, you can stop force-feeding me Altoids, you bitch."

I nearly peed myself. Read it. And make sure you keep looking back at the dog every few sentences.

a request

A few days ago I posted a picture of Fonzie. Dirk Mirky Poop (who I can safely assume is my sister) thought that it was a picture of Jeremy and requested a mimic the shot with him. Well I had to go by memory so it’s a little off – but I think the resemblance is UNCANNY.

Don’t you?

i’m so happy

I have another reason to post this gif of David Hasselhoff emerging from his own speedo.
Today on Blogebrity, it’s all about the ‘Hoff. I can’t decide which is my favourite. It’s like some gruesome accident. Can’t……look……away……must……escape…..but……so…..Hasselhoff….

I almost, almost feel the same way about Kevin Sorbo. If he ever humps a big pop bottle he’ll be able to join David’s rank. But not before then.



Which one's your favourite?

finders-keepers

A girl at the office found a key chain. I don’t know where she found it, don’t wanna know. The important thing is that she gave it to ME! The cover had broken off, so we had no idea what it was. Through mind-boggling detective work I finally tracked it down on this site. It is a tamagotchi McDonalds Happy Meal toy – from 1998!!! My goodness!! The poor person who lost it must have been treasuring it for a long time. It’s a game where you wind up the duck and guess where his bill will end up. I’m already enamoured. It’s adorable.

There’s just something about finding goodies. Trash you say? Hey if it didn’t make it to the bin it’s fair game.

Why yes I DID love going to the dump when I was a child. My parents wouldn’t let me bring anything home tho.

Bastards.

Just kidding I love you! Even if you had some unreasonable issues about me playing with garbage.

the living room is not enough

I’m sure by know you’ve noticed the hateful glances the little girl in the background is shooting my way. That’s Kaity, my darling baby sister. I can’t help but wonder what I did to earn that scathing glare. I’ve no doubt I earned it; I was particularly annoying at that age. I laugh every time I look at this picture but then I feel guilty. I think of all sorts of horrible big sister things I could’ve done. Did I cut her bangs that way? No, wait. That was the eldest of us. I seem to recall having friends over and THAT would explain a lot. I had some mean ass friends in public school. Poor dear. She was so adorable, don't let the bangs and glowering countenance fool you.

Look at her, formulating evil plans and stroking a cat. She could've totally been the super villain in some sort of Young Bond movie.

taboo? i do!

For the second time in my life I came into contact with the game Taboo. I think I was in high school the first time I was forced to play. I hated it. I kept sidling to the back of the classroom so my turn would be skipped. Luckily there were enough people who wanted to play that I wasn’t noticed. Last night taboo again reared its ugly head. Fortunately for me (and everyone within pouting distance), I enjoyed myself. Immensely. I think nailing my first word in a really cool way boosted my confidence. The word was jukebox and my clue was ‘Fonzie hits this to make it work’. My team got it right away. Jeremy did pout a bit when Denise and I chattered away during one of his turns. Poor thing. To be fair that happened to each person at some point. Anyway my favourite clue of the evening (of mine, anyway), went like this:

Me: No longer married.
Jer & Denise: Divorced!
Me: No. Luckier!
Jer & Denise: Widow!
Me: Yes!

Much laughter ensued and I glowed prettily with pleasure. I have no problem being the centre of attention if I look pretty and I just said something witty. I think I looked pretty anyway; it could have been a wine flush.

canadiana

Maria had her Canadian citizenship party on Saturday. It was a blast! Everyone had Canadian themed clothing on (red and white for me and Jer). I finally met the ice queen (my liege!), and told Jamie that one of the atrocious old recipes he wrote about may actually get made. We’ll see. It was great and I’d like to write more but I feel like crap. So go check out these guys' party coverage. They even have pictures.

Uneek

Last night I received news that a family friend had passed away. I knew it was coming, but I feel shocked. Years and years ago they gave her 6 months to live (cancer). She just kept fighting the good fight.

Anyway that’s not how I wanted to write about Anne.

Growing up I lived in a house with two parts, my home and a chocolate store. These days it’s all chocolate store but that’s another story. Our neighbour was a shop as well. It was called Uneek Sales, owned and run by a woman named Anne. We never referred to it as Uneek tho; it was always Anne’s. Anne was unique. She smoked like a chimney and had a store full of wonderful treasures. At least to the eyes of a child. Merchandise was literally piled in the store and my sisters and I spent countless hours rummaging through mountains of goodies. There was jewellery, toys, knick-knacks and oddities galore. There was a pathway from our backyard to her shop so we could go over by ourselves. What glorious independence for a child! Christmases and birthdays were shopped for all by ourselves! For the majority of my childhood everything my sisters and I purchased for gifts came from Anne’s. And she loved having us over. She would get special toys in, and set them aside for us. She would always have a treat and a nice discount for us. Anne gave me my very first worry dolls. I remember my mother getting calls from Anne that Kaity (my youngest sister) had wandered over there. My mother would head over, or send one of us, and we’d find her playing with a new toy, happily munching cookies or candy. Some things were for dreaming of and saving up for. I remember gazing at a particular pair of cubic zirconia earring for hours, desperate to have them. And there were two china dolls I eventually purchased that were the most beautiful dolls I had ever seen. I gave them away many years ago and today keenly regret it.

It is not possible to impress upon you the nature of the store. It was fantastic. It was a cluttered jumble hiding priceless jewels.

When I was in University Anne discovered she was ill and made the difficult decision to close shop and move closer to her family, here in Toronto I think. She had a blowout sale and we felt compelled to support her and grab as many pieces of childhood memories as we could. It this point we hadn’t been over in years and when I stepped through that door I swear I went back in time. Nothing had changed, including Anne. I spent a LOT of money that day. I found a playboy mirror that has a bunny on it and says ‘best playmate of the year’. It’s hanging in my bedroom right now. I found strawberry shortcake stickers, my little pony colouring books, she-ra dolls and transformers, still in their packages, right from the 80’s. They had a heftier coating of dust but there were things there that had been there since I started going to Anne’s. I bought as much as I could carry. Every once and a while, perusing ebay, I’ll think of Anne and what a fortune she could have made selling her stuff there.

It was hard for me when she sold the place, and someone else moved in, harder still now that she’s gone, truly gone. I spoke to her just over a year ago, while living in Toronto.

“Hi Clara!”
“Oh my gosh! Hi!”
“Do you know who this is?”
“Anne I could never forget your voice in a million years!”

It was true. The smoking gave her a distinct voice of course, but it was the hours spent at her shop and what it meant as a kid, that made it so memorable. I will never ever forget it, or her laugh, for as long as I live. I swear.

Now on a lighter note (or is it?), you may wonder why I got rid of my china dolls all those years ago. It was not, as some may think, because I grew older and felt it was time to out away such girlish toys. No. I have a nice little toy collection in the works and still have many of my childhood stuffed animals. That will never be an issue with me. No it was fear. Blame it on Chucky, blame it on an overactive and slightly twisted imagination, but at some point my loving adoration of these pretty dolls turned to terror. They were on a shelf right by the door to my room and I remember lying in bed, wanting to go downstairs but afraid that the minute I went passed them they would come to life and jump on my back, biting my neck. I think one time, while I was looking at the dolls in Anne’s store, she said ‘ that one is so lifelike I just expect her to start talking sometimes”. Maybe that did it. Who knows. But they were beautiful. The first one I bought was a blonde, braided girl in red velvet with white fur trim. She had a muff, furry white hat and cape. I remember thinking of a winter wedding in a dress like that, being pulled by a horse drawn sleigh to a rink where all the guests would go skating afterwards. Yes I have thought about that stuff since I was a little girl. Anyway the second doll I bought became my favourite. She looked older, more woman than girl. She had riotous red curls and a green plaid dress and cap. They were both musical. I’d wind them up and they’d each play their own tune. Maybe that was what started freaking me out. Eventually they would start playing a few bars without any help from me. I ended up having my dad take them to goodwill. I wouldn’t do it myself; just in case they got pissed they’d been abandoned and came back for revenge. I guess they would have gone after my dad then. I wonder if I was subconsciously throwing my father to the wolves so to speak. I’m sure I figured he could defend himself better than I.

Still...what an awful daughter. Heh.

i kitty?

Well I’ve never had the fear that a robot could replace me. Until now. A new Hello Kitty Robot unveiled in Japan can act as a receptionist.

Yikes.

“When Hello Kitty Robots detect visitors with sensors, they say "Welcome!", capture the image/voice of the visitors using cameras/microphones, and send the data to a personal computer. They can work at offices, hospitals, and hotels (at night)” (via wemakemoneynotart).

Although I would like to be able to go pee without having to ask someone. And I could defer difficult people to the robot.

“I’m sorry you’ll have to speak to the kitty”.

Hah.

Now I just need a life size robo sapien. I can ride him home and pinch people that annoy me.

gifts of glimpses

I mentioned earlier that I would go into further details regarding my birthday presents. Well the time has come. I’ll just highlight a few that weren’t previously referred to. I think they provide an interesting insight into my personality, tho I’m sure this blog gives you a pretty good glimpse already.
Grimm’s Grimmest
A collection of tales from the Brothers Grimm that were hitherto untold or tamed down. I haven’t delved too deeply into it yet but one tale caught my eye. A queen locked her daughter in-law and her two children in the basement while her son was away. Then one day, for some reason, she decided she had a craving for human flesh and told her steward to fetch her one of her grandsons for dinner. To eat. I won’t tell you how it ends but you can get an idea of the tales contained in this book. I wonder about the thought processes the old queen went through before identifying her craving. We’ve all been there:
‘Hmmm, what do I feel like? Chicken?
No.
Something sweet?
Nah.
Hmmm...y’know what would just hit the spot?
People.’

Ahhhh. I’ll share any other good ones that I find.

Boris Vallejo & Julie Bell’s Fantasy Calendar
Now I’ve been after this thing since before Christmas so naturally I was delighted to unwrap it on Sunday. I’ve come to depend on having a calendar since I received one last year and I ADORE Boris’s artwork. Sexy people in fantasy landscapes. How perfect is THAT!?! The calendar also has a short story each month illustrated a picture. I know I won’t be able to resist reading the story ahead of time. It’s a lovers separated kind of story. Delish.




Care Bears Checkers
How adorable is this? The board is pink and white and there are little plastic crowns to king them with. I can’t wait to play. Y’know how some people will have a nice table with a fancy chess set in mid-game on it? Kind of for show and pleasure. Well I want to have this game set up on a table in my study or something, if I ever have a study. Or maybe a library. You get the picture.

I don’t know if these gifts seem at odds with each other, but they all fit perfectly together in my little head.

Okay big head. When I was in public school and we all got measured for bike helmets I had the biggest head. In my family. Sigh.