Monday, 18 February 2013

Just Saying Hi

I know I've been really (REALLY) light on the doodles lately, but I had to share this new word with y'all: Sluttoo.

I flippin' love VICE; their docs, their fun pictures (especially Do's and Dont's) and their lighthearted approach to informing readers on really strange and heavy issues gets me hot for global current events.

So, if you have ever considered getting a Hello Kitty tattoo on your elbow, bows on your pointer fingers, some Chinese characters you can't read, fairies, dolphins, or a hibiscus chest piece please reconsider.  The whole world will judge you.  By all means, get tattoos that mean something to you and don't look like a drunk 14 year old stabbed your weathered skin with a safety pin repeatedly.  Tattoos can be really neat if executed properly, but I have a hard time finding enthusiams for the onslaught of youth with music notes behind their ears or song lyrics or Marilyn Monroe quotes on their rib cages. 

Crone Life. (if it fit on my knuckles, I'd have it tattooed already)

Saturday, 16 February 2013


Alive, awake, alone outside...and sober?  Maybe I am older now, but walking home in the rain on this warmish night of almost Spring-time made me wonder about a snappy remark my mum made a few days ago.  She scoffed, "does anyone ever actually look back on their youth and think, hey, maybe the things people told me not to do were for a good reason and I'm glad I didn't do them.  But no, kids just do it anyway." (The context is irrelevant)
Perhaps it was because both of my male counter parts could not come out tonight, absolutely nothing about clubbing appealed to me.  My god, after watching Crazy Stupid Love, I should have very high expectations about meeting Ryan Gosling-esque males.  Alas, I have come to terms with the fact that a night in with my own man would beat a thousand awkward advances from cologne-drenched occidentals.

Oh well, the night only cost me $4.50 and confirmed my devotion to disdain for racks on racks on racks of bitches with long-ass hair touching my arms and back as they flail aimlessly to overly cranked music. 

Monday, 11 February 2013

Dat Bitch

I've noticed something in my time here on Earth, there are specific, innocuous, generic pretty girl names.  We all know Britney-s.

We all know Ashley-s.
We all are beginning to experience the wrath of Cadence-s. (It seems like pretentious waspy names are totally in vogue in the States.  Eden, Cadence and Kennedy are so the new Aubrey and Ava)  I have learned so much about child name trends from Toddlers and Tiaras and it's really creepy to see them permeating Canadian families.

But I am here to talk about Emily-s.  Generic nice girl name, what can I say.  I can list 7 off the top of my head just in my grad class and extended same age friend base.  They are all nice.  They are all pretty.

Let us consider the evidence from the media.
I give you Emily the Tugboat.  Check out her friendly smile, big eyes, nicely arched brows and playful bucket hat.

taken from:

Flippin Emily from Arthur.  If anyone can put up with D.W., they are a freaking saint, even if she can be a snob at times.
Taken from:

Hi, I'm Rachel Bilson and I somehow survive on the ABCDEdiet but must poop all the time and am a tiny woman child and all the boys wanna take a turn with this small town rural TV doctor.  That statement would be correct if she actually was Emily Owens M.D., but she isn't, she's Hart of Dixie, but I don't really care.  Her name isn't even Emily in her show, I got the two mixed up because they are both lady doctors on TV, oh well.  I just had a hankering to political cartoon detail her huge, beady head and tiny frame.

I wish I was classically beautiful, goddamn it.