Back attack

Ok, so it has been the nagging bane of my whole existence that I seem to have accumulated many if not all of my mother's maladies. Early onset osteoporosis- check, hip displacement- check, cellulite-check and back pain- check. I am well on my way to becoming a 70 year old 30 year old. A-maz-ing. Not really.

Right now I am dealing with the last of my list, back pain.

Now, 3 weekends ago I went to yoga with my sister in law to be and forgot that she is about 4000 times more athletic than me (as most of the world is). I obviously tried to keep up with her so she would not think I was such a hack and never take me back to her class and in the middle of some twist/bend/lotus/zen combo (that combo does not actually exist), it happened.

I made up my mind to ignore the gnawing pain and spent the day wandering downtown and sitting on the beach.

Mis-take.

Since, I have suffered the consequences.

The following morning I could not rise- literally, I could not stand erect (hahaha, I said erect- ug, I am 5 years old). By mid-day I was hobbling down Yonge Street on the idea that walking might loosen up whatever was going on. It was that really hot Sunday. That one where the air was just too thick to breath and no one had any business marching themselves around town. I sweat my way to more pain and by dinner time I was crying to my parents to come and pick me up and take care of me while I lay on their cold wood floors and tried to OD on Robaxecet

The following day was much of the same peppered with T3s but by Tuesday I was beginning to feel a bit more ok and decided that, instead of listening to my mom's physio advice, that I would do heavy workouts instead and just "work through the pain".

Mis-take.

Working through the pain has caused me to have an awful dull pain to this very moment- in fact I hurt so much today that I was initially writing a whole other blog but couldn't concentrate on it because of the ache- it was clear that I was on the wrong topic.

I finally bit the bullet 2 days ago and made a physio appointment for next week but in the meantime look like a total asshole everywhere I go.

Imagine me in my stupid work outfits bent over like a creepy old lady clutching my lower back/ass for dear life as I moan my ways back and forth from the subway. I feel like that weird little girl- the one who does correspondence for Fashion Television, what's her name? Tavi ( I just googled that), Tavi- who is like 13 but dyes her hair grey and wears wooly sweaters with knee high stockings. That is what I look like right now.

Ed. Note- I just spent the pat 25 minutes on her blog, she is cute- not as weird as I pegged her as. Style Rookie- so cute.

Anyways, if you see me skulking by in agony- pass me some painkillers or get the fuck out of my way- hey hey

Happy hump day.

http://janeplantaineats.tumblr.com/

Want to see the fresh homemade ravioli I made Saturday night as seen through lens of a totally incapable photographer on an iphone?
http://janeplantaineats.tumblr.com/

Please.Love.Food.

Clap. Bark.

This morning at 5am I was startled out of my sleep with possibly the loudest clap of thunder I have ever heard in my life. 

I hate thunder, and lightening for that matter too. Safe to say in fact, that I hate storms of any kind and specifically when I am trying to sleep, specifically when I have to be up in an hour and I am clinging to the remnants of a good dream, and specifically when it is Monday morning.

Now, fortunately, the thunder was loud, fierce and over. 1 clap was the only one of its volume and the after thunders were but small rumbles in the distance.

Fortunately, while I hate thunder and storms, I sleep VERY well in the rain so I was thrilled to hear it pitter patter against my window.

Fortunately, it has been 4000 degrees every day so the rain immediately began to cool the outside providing a lovely cool breeze through my window making it possible to finally pull on some covers and get cozy.

UNFORTUNATELY,  my upstairs neighbours have dogs.

UNFORTUNATELY, these dogs are like miniature Satans and are possibly the most poorly trained animals on the planet.

These fucking dogs bark all the fucking time. 

When I come home from work, they sometimes bark until I go to bed- that is a solid 6 hours of straight nonstop barking,

I have no idea how their owners live with them and have an ounce of sanity as I am slowly losing it.

So of course, when that loud thunder roled in, those dogs began. 

How do you just let your dogs bark at any time, let alone before 6am?

Goodbye to my notoions of sleep- hello to plotting against these creatures.

I love animals. I really do. I am the mother fucking snow white of the  pet world- that’s how much I love them- but I cannot say that in my most aggravated times, I wouldn’t consider murdering these dogs.

Ok, ok, I wouldn’t murder them- but I would happily drive them out of town and leave them somewhere. I really would do that.

I also wouldn’t cry if their owners got rid of them- that would be ok by me too.

I cant even say that I didn’t crack a smile when I heard, from upstairs, what sounded like a chainsaw being revved up- I thought “finally” and awaited the silence to follow.

Obviously, whatever sounded like the chainsaw that would murder the dogs, was not a chainsaw at all, or maybe it was a chiansaw but they didn’t kill the dogs- they just accompanied the barking with repetitive motor noises. Guess they fgured since everyone would be woken up by their stupid animals, they may as well do whatever they were doing with that loud machine at 5am.

I plan to sit on their front porch tomorrow morning at 4am and just scream. A funny experiement to see how they like being harassed by noise all morning.

Dear Pet Owners, all of you,

I know you think your pet is endearing. It barks all day and you think, how cute!

NO. nonononononono. That is NOT cute. If you expect people to train their children not to pee in public, not to scream and cry all the time, and moreover, and related to your issue, not to sit on, grab at or otherwise harass your pets- you had better fucking train them. If your dogs are running around at 5am barking and causing a muck- you are a shitty dog owener and I reserve the right to think bad thought about you.

The End

Its getting hot in here- so fill your cup with Fro...I am getting so hot, I'm gonna fill my cup up....

So, the other night (not the night I spent puking my brains out with mild food poisoning), much to everyone I was with's surprise I confessed that I had never tried Yogurties- or Menchies for that matter.
It was a mere 10 minutes later that I was at the door of the new Yogurties on Avenue road.

I must first say that this was not the cause of my horrendous violently sick night- this was a different night altogether thankfully- I realize that talking about vomit does it make it appealing to foray into a rant about food but that's just how I roll.

Plus, in line with this extra hot weather, I thought it might be fun to think cool so, onto Yogurties...

So, in case, like me, you have been living under a rock, here is the lowdown on these FroYo places popping up all over the city. Soft serve froyo (frozen yogurt- obvi) a la TCBY is served at these joints. Along the wall stretches several batches of flavors paired in couples with the option of each flavor or a swirl of the 2 combined. You can pump as many flavors and as much as you can into fairly large cups.

How might one choose a flavor you may think?

Well it is as overwhelming as one might suppose but the good people at Yogurties make it easier on you by offering small cups for samples. Of course, the cheap-o in me immediately thought "I can just eat a million samples and not pay anything"- Truth be told, I am a sample abuser. Take me anywhere with freebies and I will skip a meal and fill myself with anything they offer. I am a pure embarrassment at Costco and when my mom and I attend the One of a Kind show and reach the food aisles (which are amazing and not to be missed) I usually do about 3 laps trying to hide my face for fear and shame that they will have recognized me from moments before.

But I digress.....again.
Here were the flavors available on that wall that night:
Lime and Kiwi
Vanilla and Peanut Butter
Pomegranate and Tart (yogurt flavor- my abso fave)
Cookies and Cream and Red Velvet.

Didn't bother with the Lime/Kiwi as I am allergic to Kiwi (do I not hate saying that? Being allergic to shit sucks. I fucking hate being like, oh, I'm allergic. I feel like I may as well have a retainer and pocket protecter or whatever. Just a weird thing of mine, fucking allergies).

I tried the Vanilla which was great- skipped the PB because the thought of it grossed me out- although it was the flavor of choice among my friends.
Got heaps of the Pom/Tart in a combi swirl- tried the Cookies and Cream which I thought was pretty lackluster and finally the Red Velvet which, although it was the color of purpley brown barf (sorry for bringing up barf again) was divine- i put some of it on the side of my Tart/Pom swirl and headed to the next station. Toppings.

Because, as if it is not enough to have a plethora of froyo flavors, you also have a bevy of toppings to add to your concoction.
Highlights include mini Entemans chocolate chip cookies, Cinnamon Toast Crunch cereal, every gummy and chocolate imaginable and sauces galore.
I of course tried the most raunch thing available- these balls called baby popping balls- the name alone should have been fair warning- that are essentially like roe, but instead of popping into salty fishy goodness, pop into fruit flavors. And not like tapioca- this was like flavored water in bubbles. Oh. Please. so. gross.

Best part is that like gelato, this stuff is low/no fat. Of course that makes it seemingly guilt free, mind you, the toppings help compensate for the calories- but also makes it a great treat. SO satisfying and especially if you go for the more indulgent flavors, like Red Velvet (which is also low fat)- great to satiate your sweet tooth.

The place is mental, full of people, we went at 10:30 and it was still fully packed with patrons. We saw at least 4 people we knew in different parties so it was great that I was in my most grubby sweats and had hair so dirty that some of it was building dreadlocks.... next time I will know better.

Go here. GOOOOOOOOO.
By the end of summer, these people will know me just as well as my gelato friends.

And speaking of which, as a side, on FabFind Toronto today- there is a coupon for free gelato at Simply Italian Gelato- this place is bomb! Check out my new food blog, in its infancy, to see some pics of the most amazing gelato to date from them- Lime Cilantro. janeplantaineats.tumbler.com This place is so fucking good (and follow my new blog too while you are at it!)

Keep cool today everyone!

Slave to the man

My coworker and I just walked over to the Starbucks on the corner for a mid afternoon coffee break- a much needed one given my ridonculous morning which has only been followed by an equally annoying afternoon.

It has been months since I had a mid-day coffee so I expect to be quite jittery in a few short minutes but in the meantime, I bring you a quick ode to Starbucks.

Sure, the inner-hippy in me wants to reject the carefully crafted packaging, the conforming ordering process, the ridiculously overpriced beverages and food, the whole notion that Starbucks evokes of the ultimate corporation- but I just can't help myself from wanting to dive into a pool of Grande Nonfat, Lactose Free, Extra Hot, No Whip, No Syrup, Sugar Free Caramel Machiato, or today's choice drink- Half Caf, Iced Americano with Nonfat Milk, Half Sweet. And don't even get me started on Chai Soy Lattes with 2 Pumps and extra Cinnamon.

And the food, the alway as fresh seeming pastries that call out to my cellulite, the unique combinations of meats and cheeses in their paninis, the fruit and egg plate, the salami plate, the yogurts, and more recently the most treacherous of all- the birthday cake pops.
What is a girl to do with all these treats and only a mere glass wall separating me from them? Maybe gain 400 pounds?

So anywho- of course, my coworker has a simple order- Coconut Frappacino- no big deal. Of course he is a guy too because no man I know orders a Skinny No Sugar blah blah blah- their orders always make ordering a Starbucks seem easy. It is only my lady friends who indulge in the rare treat of getting exactly what you want- so of course, anytime I go with a male companion to Starbucks, I am ridiculed.
Both my fiance and dad will not order for me unless I get something with absolutely no modifications. My fiancé shudders at the "Extra Hot" part even when I am the one ordering it- he doesn't think that they actually can make hot hotter- I beg to differ. If I want to scald myself while drinking coffee, i think I reserve that right.

My coworker joked that it took the barista as long to say the name of my drink as it took to make it.
But who is laughing at the end (Starbucks, for making us slaves to their amazing coffee) and me, sometimes- maybe with a burnt tongue, maybe not.

It's not like I relish in my pseudo addiction- don't I wish that I loved Tim Hortons or Country Style. But I don't. Country Styles just plain freak me out as establishments and Tim Hortons always reminds me of drinking crack- not that I have a wealth of experience in crack drinking but there is something unnatural about their coffee- I'm telling you (ed. note. you don't have to believe me- I also would tell you that drinking coffee with a straw is normal).

So they charge you up the wazoo for these custom coffees-almost double what a Timmys would be AND they make you speak to them in this ridiculous language that has become second nature to me in so much that I will order a grande anywhere- who else even carries a stupid grande?
I buy their books, download their music, own the mugs, and look to them for Holiday gifts- and if only they were not so good, I would be able to despise them as I should. (I'm a poet and I didn't even know it)

A pox on you, left side.

You know it is going to be a bad morning when your alarm doesn’t go off. 

I think that is a universal cue to the inevitable crap that will follow you around all day. I had to switch up my plugs last night to accommodate another fan in my room since the night before I was reduced to sleeping with ice packs that subsequently melted once I fell asleep and made my bed into a water bed- and a hot one at that. So in my plug rearrangement, my phone was moved onto the other side of the bed where I don’t have a bedside table. Now, despite being a total Tasmanian devil and a true spaz when it comes to most things, I do have my own mad methods of organization- I once heard this quote that said, “I’m not messy, I’m creative”- I like to think of my life in that way. But fuck my shit up and I am a mess- move around where I plug in my phone at night and I will, no doubt, forget to set my alarm on it and sleep in dangerously close to ‘leave the house’ time.

Without my usual 4-5 snoozes I had to actually wake up and get out of bed at the same time. I hate that. It is a little luxury I have in the morning to be able to wake up in 4-5 steps- you have to enjoy those little things when you run on an otherwise fairly boring and repetitive schedule.

I believe in morning breakfast too so the snoozing gives me time to warm up to the idea of putting food in my body- they say you should eat within 30 minutes of getting up- I am hungry all the time and I cant imagine waiting any longer- but still, first thing in the morning eating is a bit nauseating- it was done this morning begrudgingly.

I like to eat something cold when its hot, and hot when it’s cold so my summer breakfast of choice is Kefir, tons of blueberries, a sprinkle of organic flax seed and a hint of maple syrup. Seriously, nothing grosser than eating fermented dairy product 5 minutes after opening your eyes.

I had to rush and get lunch together and was SO thankful that I had bought this bag of organic Chipotle Corn soup. No fuss, no mess, no hassle- no chance.

I succeeded in pouring majority of the bag on the floor, half of that onto my new shoes and feet and a small amount found its way into the crevices between the drawers and shelves. So that was good. Note to self; don’t assume that ziplock bags are actually locked when you cut open the safety flap.

Now, I was already pushing my timing of course, and though i darted out the door on time I still managed to successfully leave my office pass and wallet at home, realizing this only as I was halfway to the subway- now I don’t live far, but when I am rushing and having a totally shit morning- that matters.

Got to the subway, got on the subway, plugged into my podcast only to be totally overwhelmed by the texture of polyester as the woman in front of me just nuzzled herself into me wearing a hideous floral top in a very very icky fabric. I didn’t move- I was worried that the next person I would stand beside would be wearing spikes all over their body- such would be my luck.

Got to work, tripped up the stairs, have 40000 emails to get to and it is only noon. Yi-pee.

Editors note- it is now 2pm and I JUST ate lunch- the corn soup was totally gross- of course.

Note to self- don’t knowingly go to sleep (or plug shit in) on the wrong side of the bed. Capeish?

The Looniest Crazies

I sleep with the TV on, a super annoying habit that causes my fiance to perpetually stay up after me to make sure it turns off. I can sleep through anything and like the glow and hum of whatever is on that night.

Do I often have TV related dreams? Yes, and I am sure they do something to my sleep patterns but without fail, if I am last asleep, TV stays on.

What I always find funny is what I will wake up to for it can be a plethora of programming. Sometimes I stay on the Shopping Channel and wake up to a machine that slices, dices and makes french fries all while buffing your car, sometimes I wake up to unattractive rich women bitch fighting on Slice, and sometimes I wake up to TLC- by far the most entertaining channel to watch, sleep and wake up to.

My Strange Obsession. Have you heard people talking about this show around you? If you have heard musing about a woman who eats toilet paper or a guy who believes that a blow up doll is his wife- that is it. This show is out of control. For 30 minutes 2 people are profiled as they explain their super weird obsessive compulsive habits to you.

This is what I woke up to.

Best part is that TLC knows their audience. They no longer even bother with documenting the treatment- they just give you what you want- the voyeur experience into the life of someone with unusual or disturbed thoughts.

Some of the addictions I understand. I watched one about a woman who was attached to her shoe collection and had a shopping addiction. Totally get that. I saw one where the girl picks her scabs and although it was gross- I got that too. But others just blow me away. The girl who ate couch cushions was pretty amazing as was the one who ate detergent but what I woke up to took the cake.

Profile Josh, a pimply punk looking dude with pube-like sideburns and a pretty cute girlfriend despite the fact that she could obviously do better looks wise. Josh eats glass. Like drinks his wine, and then eats the stemware. And he does it so nonchalantly, like it is not totally fucked for him to be biting off a piece of his cup and chewing it. The dude also eats bullets- just for fun and to shake things up a little bit.
Seriously. What the fuck is wrong with people? How on earth does one become so mentally unwell that they decide to eat glass. Eat it.

And just when we thought it couldn't get crazier, enter the girl who eats ashtrays. The ash in them doesn't seem to bother her nor does the fact that she is chewing on pottery. In fact, this girl brings a doggy bag of pottery wherever she goes, just in case the mood strikes her to just mow down on some clay.

Again, almost hard to believe that these people exist. And the weird commonality between them is that they both don't seem to think that what they do is weird at all. They always do a couple minutes where the subject is with their friends or family talking about the obsession and both were just like, "I don't see what the big deal is"- NO??? No guesses??? Do you think it is your new hair cut maybe??? Is that it you crazy pottery/glass eating person?? That must be it. Your hair.

AND, they list off all the health issues- so they are obviously aware that they will likely kill themselves with what they ingest- but that just doesn't seem to be enough to make them stop. The glass guy admits that he has probably sliced open his insides- ya, probably maybe. Not like, ABSOLUTELY FOR SURE.

Although it made me cringe and filled my day with small flashbacks of the sound of glass being chewed- which, in case you haven't evoked your own image of it, is just disgusting- like nails on a chalkboard- so although it did this, it also helped me feel exponentially less crazy. Anytime you feel like your sanity is slipping you must watch this. Guarantee you will never be as crazy as that- and don't we all need a little pick me up and TLC now and then?

The weekend the boys went.

This weekend past was quite a treat for my friends and I. There were 6 of us whose significant others were not here this weekend so we took the opportunity to have the ultimate girls weekend. beginning Friday at 2pm I was surrounded by some of my favorite ladies and we didn't leave each other's sides until Sunday morning.

It began with Potter. Harry Potter.
This was my first experience with Varsity VIP cinema. This theatre is so pimp although I fail to see the added value in having people bring shit to your seat. Like, how lazy are you that you can't step out the whole 8 footsteps over and buy your own popcorn. And the people ordering had such strict popcorn requests at that. The man in front of me made sure the waitress?knew to layer his popcorn with butter in small layers.
Oh really sir?


Perhaps the booze makes it worthwhile but to me, a glass of wine in a comfy chair in the dark = snoozefest. Don't care how great a movie I am seeing. the seats of course were plush and fantastic and the side table attached to each of them was wondrous. It also totally helped that we sat behind maybe the cutest couple of life. 2 older men (one of whom was layered popcorn) who were so excited by the movie and clapped every time a bad guy died or good guy prevailed. Adorbs.

I obviously cried throughout parts of the ending- no surprise there. And now I am through. Much like a first kiss, I will never experience my first HP again.

Anyways, movie turned into sushi dinner, diner turned into too much wine and silly conversation, silly conversation turned into the potential of a choreographed dance at my wedding (this will happen, it is my dream to do the footloose dance) and dancing turned into gelato- and that cycle continued all night long.
Saturday, which was- not to go to the weather, don't worry, I am not bored with your yet- a STUNNING day began with a personal training session. Am I just the weakest person on earth? I sometimes wonder this after the gym. I work out at least 5 times a week, as I have mentioned before and yet today- 2 days later- I am walking a bit funny and certainly feeling that dull familiar pain in my legs. I guess when you are trying to build muscle from nothing you have a long ways to go. After all Rome wasn't built in a day. Not that I am Rome, but I do love Italian food, so I am not entirely unlike Rome. Nonsensical rant? Check!

After training we all piled into cars and caravanned down to Cherry Beach.
How I wish I could take full credit for this beach but alas a friend had suggested it last weekend- which is when I first went- so my suggesting it this weekend was a used idea- but a good one.
Cherry beach is not unlike Jersey Shore. While it is beautiful to be on a beach and not see any city, it would be nicer even if it was not littered with speedo clad men and overweight women in thongs. Freedom of speech and a topless is ok policy in our great city make it legal for people to wear anything at the beach. They take advantage. The sun rays were not the only thing blinding me that day- let's just say that.

Saturday evening our master grill chef made us a feast of meat and seafood (and gelato- we are all sick in the head) and we drank sweet sangria under a starlit cabana.

I never usually write nicer things- and trust I have plenty to say in the following posts about other things from the weekend past, but I am so unbelievably lucky to be surrounded by some of the most beautiful and amazing ladies out there. Thank you girls for a seriously fantastic weekend FULL of laughs.
xo

Fuck this, I am moving to Hogwarts

I just bought tickets to the final Harry Potter movie for tomorrow afternoon, opening day! I am literally shitting myself right now in excitement. Yes readers, it is true. I am a huge nerd. I get super attached to geared-to-teenager fantasy-esque films and no matter that I am almost 30,  I just cant help myself.

So you are thinking “Harry Potter isn’t just for kids” ok. It may be true that many adults like me love HP- it just means we are all in the same nerd boat- not that HP was actually intended for us.

Now of course, the best part about seeing a pseudo kid movie is going to a theatre where you must be 19+ to get in. That’s right folks, VIP cinema means that I get to watch my favorite wizard tackle the difficulties of teen-hood and Lord Voldemort without snotty ass kids kicking the back of my chair. Hurray!

So while I bite my glittery nails in anticipation of tomorrow, I do so knowing that it will be a stress free viewing- fuck, they even bring you booze to your seat if you should so desire.

Most people I know hate opening day for movies. When I insisted on going to the opening night of the last Twilight installment (and wearing my “Edward shirt”- go ahead, judge me, so? he is a 19 year old actor only PLAYING a vampire- does that mean that I have no chance of ever meeting and procreating with Edward Cullen- maybe. but the will is a powerful things friends. Remember that) my friend who came almost had a nervous breakdown amid the tween and twi-hards (twi- hard-ok, I just barfed too at that one) who piled on top of one another to get into the theatre for the perfect seat in which to watch the glory that is Robert/Edward. I thought it was an amazing time. Perspective is a funny thing.

And on the topic of Twilight, looks like Bella and Edward and I all share a wedding date- they will tie the knot just 1 day before I do. Do you think getting married in the morning will stop me from being there for opening night of that movie? WRONG.

I guess the funny thing is that on any other given day I detest movie theatres. There is so few films out there that warrant me going to them. They always remind me of hallucinogenic drugs (the theatres themselves) and I always leave feeling fat and totally over stimulated- ironic that the few times I do go per year I choose days that will undoubtedly be that way.

So stay tuned for the debrief on how tomorrow goes. Will I be elbowing otter fans to get a seat? Will I cry at the finale (yes)?

SO SO SO EXCITED!!

Happy Thursday!

Down there, by that square

The Fringe Festival is one of our many amazing festivals in Toronto. Fringe is dedicated to theatre and the most interesting thing about it is that anyone can be a part of Fringe. That’s right folks, you too can put on a play without any experience or know-how just by entering. 

How it works is that anyone can submit their bid to perform a play and there is a lottery to choose who will have the opportunity. It means that some amazing people who would have never otherwise had the chance to produce a play or perform in a play get their moment in the spotlight and we as lucky Torontonians get the luxury of seeing them perform some really stunning works.

On the flipside however, because there are no guidelines or quality control you also get total, utter crap. And with that in mind, allow me to share with you my experience last Thursday night at the Bathurst Street Theatre.

I was feeling quite excited about the play. An impromptu outing guided by the desire to see a musical about God and Satan- something that would usually be right up my alley. It took about 2.5 seconds for me to regret my decision to come and to begin counting down the precious minutes until the horror show ended. 

You may think I am saying horror show because of the Satanic aspect of the play. 

No. 

I mean that it was horrifically bad. Maybe painfully bad. And certainly bad enough that I shrunk in my seat and prayed for a fire alarm.

The premise of the play was this: what if you came to a hotel for a doctor conference with your assistant who is in love with you and you had a big life question of “why” on your mind. What if, at the same hotel a multi millionaire brother with his assistant and sister came to make a business deal and confront a torrid past where their father died after a horrible fight with the sister- are you now confused by this motley crew of characters? Me too.

Now- and you may want to sit down for this one, what if the hotel was run by a hotel manager who was really God and 7 arc angels? AND Satan and the 7 deadly sins ran the hotel lounge? Is your mind blown or what?

Blown- right?

I know.

Now, before I continue I will note that it took a tremendous amount of effort I am sure to put together this performance. There were at least 10 musical numbers that had full out dance choreography for the entire big cast- so that deserves a mini applause and an A for effort.

Unfortunately, the songs were just as bad as the plot and the dancing at times was uncomfortable to watch. In one scene, while the devil is tempting the doctor’s soul (and just, don’t ask, because it was such a shit plot that to really expand on it is just like beating a dead horse) he sends in one of the sins- all of whom looked like hookers-to dance for the doctor.

Most.uncomfortable.2.minutes.ever.

Her writhing was as cringe worthy as Curb Your Enthusiasm- cant watch but cant turn away.

Now, my friend and I differ about who our favorite cast member was but mine was most definitely the super lanky guy in the blue silk shirt who played some sin and whose only function in the whole performance was to kind of hump that writhing girl in her dance. That is a well-developed character if I ever saw one.

By the time the play ended- and hour and a half later I was ready to do just about anything to leave that room. I had no clue what was going on by that point and had long forgotten who was who and what everyone’s purpose in the piece was.

I think I tuned out at the moment when they brought out Gluttony from the lounge kitchen and Gluttony turned out to be a 50 year old fat man in drag who was acting alongside his teenage costars. It was, as many things were in the play, uncomfortable to watch such an older man play along with these kids- I wont say pedophilic but…

The absolute highlight, to me, was watching Satan as he growled his way through the 90 minutes with a flap of toilet paper attached to his ass. NOTHING is scarier than when you get a tiny wad of TP on your clothing and it waves in the wind created by your movements. I seriously thought I was going to pee myself when the flap of paper finally fell off. This moment was well worth the 10 dollar admission fee.

There are just no more words for this.

As my friend put it- the best thing about Fringe is that you get to see truly horrible plays- and it is true. When else do you voluntarily go out to see crap? So to him I say thank you and to the members of the cast- don’t quit your day jobs. 

The Man With No Soul

Dear piece of shit store manager at Sears-Eaton Center.

I wish I had asked you for your name because I would have LOVED to have been able to post it for the world to see. 

You are a bad man.

On Friday I met my mom at the Toronto Outdoor Art Festival. Now a quick side note/ pitch for this exhibition- it is wonderful. Being cheaper than the One of a Kind show, this exhibition boasts similar Canadian crafts but is more accessible for newer and student artists. It is really quite amazing how much talent we have in our city. If you missed it this year, go next year. You will not regret it.

Anyways, went to the art show and since it was such a nice day we decided to stay downtown after we were done and just wander around the stores. As we were heading out of the Eaton Center towards Urban Outfitters on Yonge, we saw an old woman looking terribly beaten and battered lying on the ground outside the doors where Roots and Sears are. She was so abused looking that I had to stop and assess the situation. 

It seemed to me that she was desperate for help as she was moaning on the ground, and that most people were literally stepping over her and walking away. It is this kind of shit that makes me just hate people.

Sure, she was visibly weird- she had on old clothes and had no bottom teeth. It isn’t like she was looking to crawl into bed with you though and I was shocked that no one bothered to stop and look at her and notice that this person needed help. Because, after all, that is what she is- a person?

Anyways, what really caught me was how badly beaten her face was-  I dialed 911. I have never had to call 911 before. While I stayed on the phone describing the woman, her wounds and our location, my mom went in to look for some kind of mall security. What she found was the manager at Sears.

Fuck you, manager at Sears. You are a true piece of shit. 

He came out of the store, barely looked at this woman lying on the pavement and said, and I quote “oh her? She has shoplifted before so she is banned from our store- just leave her on the street and ignore her.”

Now, like I said, I know that this woman was homeless, or on drugs, or mentally unwell or all of the above. SO? Does that mean we are excused from providing basic human care and empathy when we find her lying on the ground with a mangled face in a dirty pink cardigan? Are we meant to, as this awful man suggested, ignore her? Pretend that she is not calling for help? Is she not owed basic dignity? 

Ok- she shoplifted and is banned from your store- totally reasonable except when you find her visibly absued and incapable of standing up in the doors of your store- at what point do you say that you will help? At one point does your conscious kick in?

How does this poor excuse of a man go home and look at his wife, mother, daughters and feel good about his decision to ignore a battered woman at his feet?

The ambulance came and took her away- she will likely return to whatever street or shelter she came from in the end and proceed to lurk around Eaton Center or wherever she belongs- but that is another story.

In the meantime, to this disgusting man in particular and to everyone else who just stepped right over over her or pointed from a distance less 2 or 3 good people who bothered to stop and see if she needed help- you should all be ashamed of yourselves and pray that one day if such an awful thing happens to you or someone you know, that the people around will pay more kindnesss than you did on Friday.

I think about food all day and all night

Do you?


Please check out- http://janeplantaineats.tumblr.com/
Not as wordy as this blog- just pictures and taglines for the food I eat and love 

Life in a Sweat Box

I would murder someone for a decent air conditioner in my house.

I aptly named this post, life in a sweat box because I am missing said AC unit and wanted to vent (ha! vent. Like where the AC would come from if I had it) about life in the hot lane.

When we first moved into our humble abode and found out that AC was not in the cards, it was ok. It was March. We were given a clunky and dated unit to stick in our window that was meant to provide us with hours of cooling power. Now, maybe it was the ducktape and saran wrap that we used to install it, or that this machine was made before I was born, or that our place is quite large and one window unit just would never suffice- but either way, this machine never worked. Sure it cooled the air immediately surrounding it in my closet room, but that was all. So while my perfectly folded GAP T shirts remained frigid, I roasted.

Finally, after I spent more than half of the summer bitching about the neverending sweat on my face, my landlords agreed to buy us a new unit. Enter Robot AC 2.0. 

Now, where I once had free space not occupied by a unit the size of a small fat child, I have a new AC unit. This thing is the most obtrusive device I can imagine in the world. How is it that my phone can basically tuck me into bed and wipe my ass in the bathroom and is the size of a business card- but they cannot manage to make a micro unit? And dude wasn’t cheap either- this thing was about 500 bucks. That is just batshit craziness.

The other thing about new unit is that although it is "free standing" and does not need to be installed into a window, it’s parts must run through a window thus really, defeating the whole “stand alone” feature that it boasts.

True to my own skills, I ducktaped this baby into the window. It is such a weird device. It has two enormous tubes that compact and extend and must go through the window and then attach to the body of the unit- taking up more space than it already did. Amazing.

This new unit trumps the old one-but what exactly does that say? Not a whole lot. The old unit sucked, this one, slightly less so. First of all it is mega loud and second it too only seems to cool off the immediate area it is in- not the best for a 1000 + square foot place with different rooms. So now I have a cool den followed by a semi cool dining room, a hot kitchen, hotter closet room, hotter bathroom and brutal bedroom. FAN-fucking tastic.

It is impossible for me, as a result, to ever look good in the summer as I perpetually sweat. The past few weeks of “summer” have been a dream come true to me, with the windy days and cool nights I have been sleeping with the window open and loving the natural breezy airy nature of my place. The day it got hot was the day I remembered how gross last summer was.

So to all of you out there who have renting/buying a new place on the horizon- I encourage you to consider your face and the amount of breakouts you get when it is always hot and flushed before you poo poo AC. In theory and in cool temperatures, life is great but like a big box of chocolates, you never know what you will get in the summers here in the city. Buyer beware.

Nautical Distaster

Canada Day long weekend. So good. So long. Never long enough.

Because this concert never happened when it should of, 10 years ago, someone decided to round up some oldies/goodies for the Canada Day Concert.

Downsview park, an otherwise pretty huge eyesore was transformed into an even bigger eyesore as white trash adorned in rub on and real tattoos and one-too-many Canada flag capes filled the entire park with their Players cigarettes and overabundance of litter.

Where to begin on this one? I have so many “dear you”s to address- ok, here goes…

Dear the organizers of the Canada Day Concert.

What were you thinking?

A chimpanzee could have put together a better-run event- or wait… DID a chimpanzee organize the show? Is that what happened?

Either way, having 3 separate and yet equally long/obnoxious line-ups for beer= a bad idea. Why do you want to turn otherwise friendly Canadians into beer-starved animals? WHY????

Thankfully you could only get a whopping 2 beers per visit to the beer tent (the one preceded by the ID wristband line and the beer tickets line) so, unless you wanted a non existent to mild buzz- you were at that tent at least 3 times (mind you, having spent the entire day outside in a friends backyard drinking 2 was about all I was managing).

Plus, and this was the real hilarity to the whole thing- the beer was Bud so UGGGGGGG for taste and UGGGGGG for having American beer as the one and only featured beer of the Canada Day Concert. Molson? Molson? Buller?

Right, so what am I harping on? A long beer line at a concert? You are thinking “hasn’t this girl been out to a concert before?”

You are correct, I have and they are almost always as poorly organized and line up-y as this one was but truly, this takes the cake. The Molson Amphitheatre seems like Germans run it in comparison.

Dear concert fans,

Yes, Friday was indeed a hot day temperature wise. I was happy with my decision to wear shorts and a loose T. I am not a super freak of nature who remains ever-cool when the sun is blearing down on me but I didn’t feel the need to go topless and you shouldn’t have either. The amount of backny I saw on Friday was enough for me to never want to see a bare back again.

Hey- love your overdone and completely irrelevant tattoos- put your shirt back on

Love your steroid induced bulging muscles accompanied with your small dick- put your shirt back on

Love you extra lanky body with undeveloped chest hair- put your shirt back on

LOVE your hairy man breasts- put your shirt back on

Everyone- put your shirt back on.

Unless you are David Beckham, you can keep your shirt on while outside the trailer park please and thank you.

Dear fat- ass white trash bitch and your equally heavy and unattractive friend + her skinny ass topless (OBVIOUSLY) boyfriend,

A big fuck you to all of you.

When you go to a concert on the lawn, most people are really courteous about space, fine and fair that you want to move around, dance, walk- whatever- but as long as you are respectful of personal space, don’t care. So as the sun set and the Tragically Hip were rocking out as only Gordie can do this fat chick came, from out of nowhere and plunked herself and her friends right beside me. Ok, no problem fat bitch- I don’t begrudge you for being very unattractive and 600 pounds overweight. What I do begrudge you for is beginning to fling your body (because, did you think that was dancing? That was certainly not dancing- oh you thought so? WRONG) into mine and totally take over the tiny space I was occupying while you hoot and holler in a mans voice.

You suck and you are lucky that my fiancé knows me well enough to have grabbed me and moved me out of the way before I began to throw elbows into your side-lard. Yes, you would have won the fight but I would have won the settlement for when you broke my legs by putting 1/3 of your body weight on them.

Dear everyone who stayed until the end of the show (except the above mentioned fat girl- but this includes all topless people),

You ruled for about 5 seconds and then sucked bigger than ever

Here is why. 20 minutes of amazing fireworks are set off immediately after the encore songs and the crowd goes mental. Like, no matter what age you are and where you come from, fireworks can always delight you. So all of us, all 20,000 or so of us have this momentary connection as we oooh and aaahh at the sky.

The fireworks finished and the crowd burst into applause and a totally impromptu Oh Canada. It was cute, you know what wasn't? The abundance of garbage that you all left on the ground. anything you can imagine was just strewn about- like this park is your living room. your moms would be ashamed.

My solution is that they restrict ticket sales and no longer make them available to pigs so that the rest of us can enjoy what was actually a REALLY fun show.

Happy Monday

Xo

Jane