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Superlate Golden Globes Best Dressed

Liu, no contest. Adore this pattern, and adore the light blue (I am normally not at all a light blue fan, but in this instance it's perfect) against the bright, detailed red and cream roses. How fantastic of a pattern are roses? Roses, done right, are a forever-classic beaut. The dress cut (I know it has a name but I don't know what that name is as I am not that fashion knowledgeable. Dah well) goes perfectly with the pattern and her hair. Pocketing this whole look for if I ever get married or go to a legitimate Ball or something.

(source: Trend911.com)

This print really reminds me of Sally - why? Does Barnes Place have this in curtains or something? Can't pinpoint it, but I'm sure there's a reason why. 

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Blue ring

I cannot slash will not slash cannot purchase this ring, but boy would I be jazzed to own it. 

(Source: BELLAMARESEAGLASS Etsy store)

Cobalt is my most top shit colour. Although I love gold and blue together, I already have a few gold rings that I wear regularly, so I want silver with this. Buy this ring then hire me to tickle your back until you feel I've equalled the cost of the ring? Come on, don't be such a tightwad!

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Wig Wishes

People in Ontario don't know that 'wig' is slang for 'hair'. I say it, all the time. And always.. have to clarify. In Newfoundland - best island in the world, holler back ya skeets - wig just means your hair. I don't know, everyone I went to school with said it anyway. Yes, it's supposed to be funny. You wouldn't use it in a serious context, it is very much a joke term. But a term nonetheless.

I ADORE THIS HAIR! (wig)

(Source: Laineygossip.com)

Oh my god, this style, texture and color are like my DREAM. I could maybe actually do with a liiiiittle less of the whiter tone that big tendril has near the righthand-side bottom. But the left, and well, more or less 95% of it, is exactly what I want for me. Why not me?! Be on me! I'm printing this and taking it to my next hair appointment. For the colour. While the style is lovely, I think we both know I'll never be doing this maintenance-y hairdo on the daily. I'm lucky if I get mascara on in terms of weekday morning time-consuming-coiffing. 

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Superlate Golden Globes fashion commentary

Love this wine beauty on Naomi Watts. I am rarely an any shade of red person (it's supposed to be my "power colour" according to Astrology, go figure), but this is work-ing. 

(source: usmagazine.com)

(source: backseatstylers.com)

This may be the best wine dress I've ever seen. I am always partial to fitted long-sleeve dresses though.

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Auld Lang Syne, you always make me cry

We're going to Montreal for the 30th and 31st. We'll be seeing dudeski's favourite, Nofx, on the 31st. As I hate Montreal (maybe I don't, I don't know. I've just had terrible times there, the two only times I've been there. Mostly personal stuff, not so much the actual city's fault. Although to some degree, yes, some locals that I encountered's faults, yes. I don't like to blame EVERY occupant of a city for that though. Some were lovely. Some places were lovely. Others - eeeehhhh, you'd have to drag me scowling and fake-barfing near again. This is the vaguest description ever of anyone's crappy time to anywhere, but, you know, this is afterall a blogspot blog, who said it had to be anything?

And both in the dead of winter, which we'll be going in again - hey! Whaddaya know! This isn't really "the dead" of winter, but just let me say that for emphasis. I've only ever left Montreal crabby and swearing to never return), this should be a neat experiment. And risky, as it's going to cross us into 2013. Am I the only jankoff who holds a your-new-years-ever-dictates-the-tone-for-the-rest-of-your-year superstition? 

It should actually be okay. As we are going for the sole purpose of seeing Nofx (uuuuggggh, merciful), I insisted that I "get" everything else during the trip. See: nice hotel (Le Germain), restaurant of my choosing (Barroco or Garde Manger, or maybe both! Who's to say!), every other itinerary item outside of the actual concert hours, however brief or inane, mine, my clock. Oohh, we're getting a fancy spa package too. I actually don't remember which one we booked, we booked like a month ago, so that'll be a smart surprise. 

I imagine I will spend a lot of the concert's time near the bar, fiddling with my phone and trying to get one decent picture of myself. Don't feel bad for me, I actually don't find that that awful of a time. Like any seasoned iphone addict, I can keep myself unbored for ages. The venue - The Olympia - actually looks pretty nice inside if google images are telling me the truth. I wonder if there's a plush, gaudy lobby for me to loiter in on occasion. The ballroom (looks ballroomish? In Some pictures?) looks to have plush potential. 

My Christmas has been luxuriously lazy. My office is closed for the holiday week, which I am not at all ungrateful for for a second. I relish leisure. I would make a model lady of leisure. At my most base level, I'm like:

and this:

and this, but with less fur and rattier hair:

and this, but with less of whatever is actually going on here. What is going on here?

THIS!  

this, this, and this:

.. and ballerly unapologetic about it. 

I'm kidding. Kindof. How do people not always know what is and isn't hyperbole? I don't always know, so who am I to talk. I have to have joke tones clarified to me all the time. Still, I think the integrity of a joke you want told is more important than the risk of some not "getting it". Always risk it! Always tell, and whenever possible, do not explain! You will be a better joke person for it. Do explain when it's me asking though.

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Stumped on how to do a day?

Here's my suggestion on how to spend your Sunday: 

Knifey Tumblr post

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If I remember correctly, my last REALLY HAPPY! Christmas I was.. 11? I think that was a really good year. I got this awesome Karuba sweater and, I think, Lucy, one of our cats? Mayyybe my dollhouse, but no, that could have actually been there year before. So long ago. But I know I remember it being a happy one, without sads lurking in the shadows. A Karuba sweater and new pets, that's all you might need as a big kid to distract.

I am not ungrateful. I have a very decent set-up this Christmas with my kitties, and my boo, and our comfortable home, a week off work, internet shopping, hair I like this month, booze, quite a few books I'm excited to read. I should be so lucky! But still.. I don't know. This beloved holiday is not my beloved. I'm a big blue, cottoncloud soul. You might know me if you know. And if so, how do you put the real to the side and just squeal with the rest? It's so hard. I'm a terrible actor.

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Good thing, bad thing

Good thing: I got Media Profile's Spirit Award this year! It actually used to be the Spirit Award, but has since been renamed the Michael O'Connor Clarke award. Proper thing. It's amazing, I am rarely the one to win things. I'm so proud and flattered and got hammed accordingly afterwards.

The bell. The bottom plaque says 'The Michael O'Connor Clarke Award', and then my name and the year are engraved up top. Preeeeeeeetty, preeeeeeetty cool.

But now bad thing: my Debbie is missing :(

She got out at some point in the last 36-48 hours and has been gone since. We are worried sick, combing the neighbourhood shaking salmon treats, pointing the laser pointer that she loves everywhere in hopes of drawing her out of a hiding spot or something. Debbie is an indoor kitty, and a spoiled bitch of a one at that, she isn't made for the dark and risky outside world! Ohhhhhhh, Debbieeeeeeeee. Please be okay. It's supposed to get really cold this weekend, you need to be inside with your family baby.

UPDATE: DEBBIE CAME BACK, DEBBIE CAME BACK! Thank fucking christ. We went out every couple hours on Wednesday and Thursday, shaking treats, wagging an open can of wet food, zipping her red laser-pointer all over the places in hoping of grabbing her attention, posting LOST ads on Craigslist and Kijiji (some butthead even texted me pretending they'd found her, trying to mess with me. Lesson to me: don't post your phone number in online ads. Lesson to butthead: don't mess with my emotions or you will have evil wishes rained down upon you and yours for hours, even days, afterwards!) and nothing. We were so miserable. We were like, well we have to do something! Okay, tomorrow we'll print MISSING posters and put them up all over the area. We'll call the shelters. We'll go out with her food again. We'll, we'll, we'll. I was so nervous as I knew the weather was expected to be really cold this weekend. oh goodness, my little, small-framed-to-begin-with baby out in zero degrees - I'd have died!

What we finally came up with was this - I'll lock the cats in one of the spare rooms with food and litter. Andrew will sleep on the living room couch. We'll leave the front door open like 6 inches, just enough for her to fit through if she comes back in the middle of the night, which we just had a feeling she had probably been trying to do. And she freegeeng deed! What a relief. Andrew came into the bedroom with her at like 3 am going, "Annie. Debbie's home!" I mean I BOLTED upright in the bed before the words were even out of her mouth and hugged her smelly arse so real-ly. It was a thrilling moment. She did smell though; like super, super stale cheese and garbage. She was definitely digging in garbage. Gross.

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I adore this dress that Tyra Banks wore to her own Flawsome Ball. That's what it's called, I wasn't being cute there. I love the white stripes and flowy circley things - whatever you call those in fashion. 

Jackie, you've knocked it out of the park. Go on girl. 

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