Damn, Rachel

I would call this an announcement, but really, it’s just me affirming the obvious.

Let’s back track for a second here, deviants. What could I possibly be talking about? Rachel Maddow, of course! Everyone that knows me knows that I have a little thing for her – I have a thing for sexy brains, alright? And today while I was catching up on my Twitter feed, Dorothy Snarker alerted me (and by me I mean the entire Twitter-using population) to this photo of a young Rachel Maddow:

Rachel Maddow

Riddle me this, deviants; who is not hot for Rachel Maddow now? I mean, really. Now, I’m unsure of who leaked this photo, or if it was just some very crafty left-thinking Photoshop wizard set on distracting the entire lesbian community from something (oh, the mystery of it all!), but I would like to shake that person’s hand, if you know what I mean.

By that I meant shake their hand by the way, just because you have access to a class picture of Rachel Maddow doesn’t necessarily mean you’re cool – you’re only cool when you repost that picture on your blog, or something.

Love, Lauren

ps – while I was looking for things to link to, I came across this Rachel Maddow jack-o-lantern. FTW, deviants, FTW.


Stop the presses: Christine Sirois still alive!

The Infamous Christine Sirois
Yes, friends, as I was drawing up the mock obituary in lecture, it seems that Christine Sirois has resurfaced. After informing me that she is, in fact, in the Canadian equivalent of the Bermuda Triangle, Ottawa, it all made sense. I have lost many a good soldier to this Ottawa that I hear so much about, but they are all coming back to me, like lost sailors to the North Star, I am an integral part of everyday life. Actually, I am not that full of myself. And I am ecstatic that Sirois has emerged. I am even more ecstatic at the prospect of my reemergence. 

    The good news just keeps pouring in, I suppose. Well, by pouring I mean it comes in intervals, usually intercepted by 15 minutes on hold. After getting through to both Bell and Puralator today, I have found my Internet modem. It’s in Lachine, the Bermuda Triangle of Quebec. I have been to Lachine before, I was there for 15 minutes because my father, sister, and I got lost on our way to the Hotel St James. It is essentially a wasteland. If I stopped at stoplights, stop signs, yield signs, really if I stopped for anything, I’d be worried about stopping for longer than a second. For fear of someone much like Ben Derksen (I’m talking height and body type-wise, jeez) coming out from behind an abandoned gas station with a cleaver… I think it’s pretty clear that, for once, I am not excited for this bike ride.

    Since we want to keep on the warm and fuzzy train, guess what I’m getting next week? Other than the wheels for my fixie, that is. A press pass! Like, holy shit. I hope they don’t have to take my picture for this pass, because we all know how those turn out. Yikes. Anyways, this press pass is definitely exciting. I’m thinking about writing for The Link, and if I can do some sort of music feature, I hope to drunkenly interview everyone from every indie band who comes through Montreal. Which is every band worth mentioning. And this has just come to me, but with this press pass, I feel as if I could stalk Sara Quin. Only when I tell people about it, I would omit the word “stalk” with “track down for research purposes” in order to make people feel at ease. But really, it would be a feature on what Sara Quin is like in bed. Now that is what I call undercover journalism. I’m stopping with that terrible pun.

(First posted: 10/09/08)

It’s my first day, and I had to take the bus.


Usually that's how I call them all in... or I leave a trail of flannel.

Usually that's how I call them all in... or I leave a trail of flannel.

I’m sitting outside my classroom in the CJ building right now, and I arrived a half hour too early. If you’ve seen my most recent vlog, you know I’m intimidated by my prof already. So I guess coming early is better than coming late, because apparently they just lock you out? What the hell, that’s not how it happens on television!

    Anyways, I’m sitting here, I don’t know anyone, and I’ve seen less than a handful of properly dressed people. I thought that university + Montreal = fashion savvy, thrift store worshipping, hipsters. Apparently, I was wrong, and people are even less fashion forward than they were at Richview. And that, well, that’s just embarrassing. I don’t want poorly dressed friends, but I don’t want to be a loner. I have a feeling this is going to be some sort of an epic cool friend-finding uphill battle. I never thought I’d be using “uphill battle” and “epic” in explaining how I’ll find friends. This looks bad.

8 hours later…

    So I caught this girl checking me out in the “tell us who you are” segment of class. I can’t remember her name because I only started listening when the prof glared at me. But I digress, I turned my head to look at the girl who was telling us about why she chose journalism, and our eyes locked for a good five seconds. Then she turned away smiling, looked down at her desk, and brought her head back up, still smiling. It was definitely a moment. Almost enough of a moment for me to warrant putting it on Craigslist missed encounters (I’m not even going to put a link there, you know where the page is, don’t lie to me). However, I’ll see her next Monday, so there’s really no reason to do so.

    Now, back to this bus ride which I never addressed. It was horrendous. Free, but horrendous none the less. You see, as a cyclist I know nothing of streets. I care not about whether it’s a one way, whether there are bike lanes present, whether there are streetcar tracks, or anything of the matter. I know north, south, east, and west. I know major intersections, and really that’s all I feel I need to know. Well, I haven’t figured out north, south, east or west. Nor have I been to any major intersections. So when it came time for me to leave for class this morning, I had to choose between making it to class and riding my bike 7 km in each direction until I ran into the other campus. I chose the former, and a good thing too. The prof, bless her Naomi Klien-esque heart, was a stickler for time, but she knew all about Burma, and she’d spent months in conflict zones. And that is just hot. I’m not saying I like her, but I admire her. Plus I can’t be late now, there are hot women awaiting!

    I cleaned my whole apartment today, and I think I’ll have to clean it again tomorrow, because my feet are still turning black. Yesterday it was really really bad. Today, it’s better, but still, I don’t want these dirty floors. I really hate the guy who was so messy to leave literally layers of grime on the floor. My water/vinegar floor cleaning solution was opaque when I poured it out. And honestly, there is not a lot of floor here, so that blows my mind! I hate messes, seriously, I can deal for a little while, but I get fed up really quickly. especially with my new bed coming in Friday, I want my room to be pristine. My sheets are white, too, and I’m not washing them every 2 days because I have grimey floors. On the upside, I have no pets to clean up after, so once I get this place into working order, I have no one to blame but myself, and that’s the way I like things to be. 

(First posted: 02/09/08)

O, Karen O.

If you know me at all, you’ll know I’m borderline obsessed with the lovely and talented Karen O. Karen, bless her extremely attractive soul, is the lead singer of one of my favourite bands, Yeah Yeah Yeahs. She has done a couple things on the side which I’m ecstatic about as well (I’m Not There soundtrack, anyone?). And while I cannot find Fever to Tell on vinyl anywhere, I still consider myself a diehard. And if ever given the chance, groupie.

My friend Ben Derksen & I were at a Blue Jays game a month or so ago, and seeing as baseball can be (you know, at times…) unbearably boring, we played the “5 celebrities” game. I’m sure there’s actually a  real name for the game, but that’s what I’ll call it now because of it’s straight forward nature. Anyways, you pick 5 celebrities you’d hook up with, no questions asked. Needless to say, Karen O topped my list. And for a damn good reason, I mean, have you seen her in the Christian Joy catalogue? Hubba hubba.

(First written on 18/06/08)