Reader Meet Author

(Warning: this is a very long post.)

When I was fifteen, I went on a school trip to Ottawa. While wandering around the city, I picked up Douglas Coupland's "Life After God" at a used bookstore. I started reading it immediately. I loved it. I couldn't put it down. I got all paranoid about the Bomb. Every passing airplane was a potential threat to humanity.

(I was admiring tulips in our nation's capital when it happened.)

That very night, I got drunk for the first time in my adolescence* on citrus vodka that my friend Gloria had smuggled into the hotel.

This anecdote isn't particularly relevant, except to illustrate how long I've been a fan of Douglas Coupland's writing.

Last night (with many thanks to Danny), I shook hands with my long-time literary hero at his art opening at the Monte Clark Gallery. I probably said some very stupid and ordinary things.

...but to you I was faceless, I was fawning, I was boring.

I also took a couple of furtive photos. Sneaky!


Is the balding dude in the shorts one of the hipster's dads? No! That is The Dougler.


My photograph of this pretty floral spaceman didn't turn out, so I am borrowing one from PhotoJunkie.


Bird's-eye-view of ginormous melted-together plastic soldiers.


An extremely large and impressive wall installation that apparently features mashed-up lyrics to "The Queen Is Dead". (The one that Doug was standing in front of in the first photo is based on the words in "Fight Club".)

Lee bought one of his installations (a hornet's nest made up of mouth chewed pages from Generation X - in Doug's own words, "It's pretty fucked up, eh?"), so he and Coupland were fast friends and talked about stocks and investments and Most Extreme Elimination Challenge.

I am kicking myself for leaving Jean's birthday as soon as I did, because Danny called shortly thereafter to invite people out for drinks with the artist himself. A very drunk Lindsay chatted with Coupland about the way one of her teachers smelled. She also taught him how to turn his legs "inside out". At least, this is what I have gathered from the email she sent at 3AM this morning. (Oh, Lindsay Whit. I love you dearly.)

Douglas Coupland? Waaay cooler/nicer than Margaret Atwood!

On a related note, this is my best celebrity week to date! Check it:

• Shook hands/chatted with Douglas Coupland
• Tripped over someone's shoe and accidentally kneed Jeanne Beker
  
• Hayden sighting at Soundscapes
• Atom Egoyan sighting at same
• Shared a pitcher of beer and some laughs with Cuff The Duke
• Got hugs and a couple of pecks from a rather dashing Hollywood screenwriter, even though I interrupted a conversation he was having to say hello
  

Thankfully, Elan is very forgiving and wrote me the following email:

"Remember that time I was talking to one of my literary idols and was charming the pants off him and he and I were well on the way to being best friends forever when you came up and interrupted us? And he stood there awkwardly for a minute and then melted off into the crowd? And that was the end of our delightful chat and we did not, in fact, become best friends and go rollerblading around the seawall and tasting each other's ice cream cones and laughing and laughing and laughing and other stuff that sounds a bit gay but is really just good clean fun of an only vaguely homoerotic bent? Remember that?"

Oops.

(Now playing: "Girlfriend in a Coma", The Smiths)

*the very first time I got drunk was an unfortunate incident in my childhood

You Don't Come Over That Often, Baby Doll

After the Teenage Fanclub show last night (note to self: no more late concerts on school nights - getting old, can't handle it), we were listening to the radio. Notably, 104.5 CHUM FM. My mother's station. And whose song comes on but this guy's!

It may or may not have been written about someone I know. I'm not actually sure about songwriting timelines. But that lends a whole other level of enjoyment.

Has a sweeter song about booty calls ever been writ? I doubt it.

Anyway, a Beyonce song came on afterwards, which was pretty hilarious. If it was followed up by the hot summer single by Bedouin Soundclash, I would have lost my shit.

People I know have got to stop becoming borderline rock stars. It's making me feel rather inadequate.

(Now playing: "Soft One", Matthew Barber)

Chin (Dimple) Up!

This is a chin dimple:



Chin dimples are incredibly attractive.

I felt the need to clarify this because a ton of people are stumbling upon my blog after googling "Are chin dimples ugly?" and "How to get rid of chin dimples". I mean - what the HELL?

This is appalling! This is unacceptable!

If you are lucky enough to have a chin dimple (or any variation thereof), you need to share that chin dimple with the world! (Or even just with me). So, this post is the definitive answer to your googled concerns.

Here are some hot people with chin dimples:


Viggo's king for a reason. Check out that chin! Rowrrrrr.


Oh Syd. Oh. Oh. Oh Syd.


"I'm sexy!"
"No...I'm sexy!"
"Sit down, all of you! It is I who is sexy!"

There are many different kinds of chin dimples. They are all equally hot.

The Classic Chin Dimple



The Chin Bum



And My Personal Favourite, The Chin Cleft



In summation, chin dimples are just deadly. If you have one, I will probably date you. If you lack one, I will probably not date you (unless you have pretty eyes or a nice smile or a great record collection or something - in that case, we'll talk).

"But Sofi!" I hear you cry. "What about women with chin dimples? Are they equally as attractive?"

I'll let Mlle. Bardot field this one.



(Now playing: "Lazy Sunday", Small Faces)

All of My Friends Were There

I am extremely lucky to have many hardcore friends who didn't mind celebrating the anniversary of my birth on a schoolnight.

Cameras are great! They remember things when I don't!


Chocolate cake + Labatt fiddy = ideal start to 25.



Anji, Matt, Tracey and Christine.



This is what DJs look like when you pay them in Strongbow.



Joan, Hil, Castle and Brendan.



Lindsay and Tony are aglow.



Concordia Journalism Grads: Toronto Chapter (note errant bra strap marring otherwise adorable shot).



The ever-affable Salingers delight in signing my hilariously over-sized birthday card.



The Salingers kick ass, take names.



Me, Christine and Erin.



Magda Marmalade and Ryan Salinger.



Our slow descent into alcoholism.



Yes, folks - this is seriously the most action I've seen in months.

Thanks for coming, everybody. This should hold me over until I turn 30.

If you couldn't make it out, why not just tell me that you were there? I will probably believe you.

(Now playing: "Midnight to Six Man", The Pretty Things)

You've Come a Long Way, Baby

This photo was taken exactly 24 years ago today.



(Now playing: "25 All Right", Thrush Hermit)

C'est Bizarre

I feel like I've been living in an alternate universe for the past few days, for a couple of reasons. Some are funny. Some sad.

Every second the phone remains silent is a relief.

I want to share a funny story with you. I need a bit of levity.

The other night, I was taking the College streetcar westbound on my way to the Torontoist party that I partially DJed (it went really well, thank you. Easily the most fun I've had in a while. Torontoist and I have had our differences in the past, but now we're just so in love).

After I got on the car, the driver's voice came over the speaker:

"Now. I am only going to say this once, so listen closely," he instructed. "There is some construction up ahead, so this car will be re-routing. We are going to go SOUTH....on Bay. Then we are going to head WEST...on Dundas. And finally we will head NORTH...on Spadina. We will then continue west along College. Is that clear?"

There were some giggles and a resounding "YESSS!" from the passengers. A sweet female voice piped up, "But I don't underSTAND!" More giggles.

The driver continued along the path he had set out for us and was kind of a nutbar. He sang, he whistled, he chatted to himself and was generally just a bit of a weirdo. An entertaining weirdo, but a weirdo nonetheless.

We enter Chinatown and almost total gridlock. He tells us not to panic. It'll be okay. Just put your feet up and enjoy the ride.

A few minutes later, he starts honking madly.

"Hurry up! Hurry up Mr. Ho! Mr Ho! Hurry Mr. Ho!" he starts shouting. My fellow passengers and I exchange startled/horrified looks. Our genial weirdo driver has suddently turned into a crazy racist weirdo driver and we are not impressed.

As it turns out, weirdo driver was not yelling generic asian names at asian drivers in his way. A little man comes running out of a Chinese restaurant on Dundas, paper bag in tow. He approaches the streetcar.

"Hi, Mr. Ho!" shouts the driver.

They exchange a few words in Chinese. The driver pays Mr. Ho for his dinner. Grinning, Mr. Ho deposits the bag and runs off.

The streetcar explodes into laughter.

I start clapping.


THEY HAD TIMED IT SO PERFECTLY! And it was so obviously not the first time that the driver and Mr. Ho had done this.

It was just this sublimely bizarre Toronto moment.

I am probably never going to learn how to drive. The entertainment value of the TTC is just too high.

(Now playing: "Mal", Johnny Hallyday)

Attention, Stalkers!

I'm making my Toronto DJ debut this Friday night at the Embassy (223 Augusta Ave) as part of the Torontoist party.

My DJ chops are a mite rusty and Toronto is much less forgiving than Kingston, so I am a wee bit nervous. Thus, it would be nice to see some friendly faces in the crowd.



I'll be spinning as much indie/garage/psych/pop/yeye as I can squeeze in between the hours of 9:30PM and 11PM. Mr. Matthew Blair has got the late night shift, and Mr. Joshua Errett will be sandwiched in between. (I have it on good authority that he will not be playing The Killers.)

Say hi! Have a drink! Make a request! No, I won't play you some hip-hop!

Go! Team show tonight! I must Go! brush my teeth and then Go! pee before we Go!

(Now playing: "Everyone's a V.I.P. to Someone", The Go! Team)

I've Got Beach Tar on My Feet

"J'ai pas d'argent, j'ai pas de chance, j'ai pas d'amis!"*

That's not entirely true.

I may be totally broke ($10 in my pocket, $2.17 in my bank account, about $1400 owed to my parents, Bell Canada and VISA - please hurry up, Thursday!) but I still managed to have a good time this weekend.

That being said, I present:

The Bee's Knees Guide to Having Fun on a Tight Budget

• Spend Friday night watching a movie in bed with your one true love. In my case, my one true love is Zach Braff. The movie was "Garden State", which I'd never seen. I borrowed a screener copy from work for the low low price of free. Cost: $0

• Have a delicious three course dinner at your parents' house! (Happy anniversary, mom and dad! I hope you never find my blog!) Cost: $0

• Check out a fab lounge singer (who also happens to be your cousin) at a bar in the west end. There will be no cover. Your cousin's lovely fiance will pay for your soda. After last call (when you're starting to get a bit peckish), a weird and creepy stranger will come off of the street and offer your table free pizza. You will all eat a slice (it will be delicious). You will worry about poison after it's too late. But...hey hey! Free pizza! Cost: $0

• Spend a gorgeous Sunday afternoon playing (an abortion of) volleyball at the beaches. Get a tan. Get 3rd degree sand burns on the bottoms of your feet. Get soft vanilla ice cream which tastes better than anything in the world on a hot, sunny day. Cost: $2.50

Total cost of weekend: $2.50.

Moi, j'suis une fille responsable.

(Now playing: "Sunny", Dressy Bessy)

*with apologies to Jacques Dutronc

My Sweet Lord

Here's what I wanted to write:

Christian Contemporary/Christian Rock

(Band name)
(Album title)

•Christian rockers smell up the joint with derivative crap!
•Features the hits (Song) and (Other Song). But by "hits" we mean
"hits on Christian radio". Which really isn't the same thing at all!
•Not even Jesus would love them!

Here's what I actually wrote:

Christian Contemporary/Christian Rock

(Band name)
(Album title)

•Potentially the next big thing on the Christian rock scene, this
Texas-based band combine heartfelt lyrics and uplifting melodies with
straight-ahead rock.
•As seen on tour with (other awesome Christian band).
•Features the hits (Song) and (Other Song).

Work's funny that way. I'm still mentally making the adjustment from legit music critic to salesperson, essentially. I don't mind too much. I think of it as a fun challenge. In the wise words of Miss Lindsay Lynch, "Selling out is the new having integrity!"

Some fantastic news on the ego-boosting front: I just found out that I was selected as a model for the Parkdale Pin-Up photography project. I'd like to think they were drawn to me because of my flawless skin, killer smile and gorgeous eyes - but it was probably due to my huge rack and penchant for Labatt 50. Anyone who knows me well knows that I love pin-up girls and that whole aesthetic, so it blows my mind that I'll be able to dress up and pose similarly. The shoot isn't until the end of August, so I will hopefully be able to squeeze in a few sit-ups between then and now. But whatever. It's high time that I learn to be comfortable with my body. Acting all playful-sexy in front of a camera and seeing the finished product will do me a world of good.

I'll post the photos here eventually - if they aren't too saucy, I mean.



(Now playing: "Boum Bada Boum", Minouche Barelli)

It Was a Long Time Ago

I was cleaning my room a few weeks ago and unearthed a piece of paper with a list of songs on it, written in a clumsy hand. It must date back to around 1995 or so. I think I was jotting down my favourite songs at the time for posterity's sake.

I'd forgotten about a lot of them.

Here they are as they appear on the paper:

White Rabbit - Jefferson Airplane
Bright as Yellow - Innocence Mission
Misirlou - ?
Trigger Happy Jack - Poe
Canon - Self
Sober - Tool
Diamond Sea - Sonic Youth
Kool Thing - Sonic Youth
Awake - Letters to Cleo
Natural One - Folk Implosion
In September - Hayden
These Days are Old - Spooky Ruben (sic)
Pets - Porno for Pyros
Just - Radiohead
People of the Sky - Sloan
Underwhelmed - Sloan
I Hate My Generation - Sloan
Canonball - The Breeders
A Girl Like You - Edwyn Collins
Spin the Bottle - Julianna Hatfield
Low - Cracker
Bright Yellow Gun - Throwing Muses
Today - Smashing Pumpkins
Vow - Garbage
She Don't Use Jelly - Flaming Lips
One of Us - Joan Osbourne
Walk this World - Heather Nova
Common People - Pulp
Supersonic - Oasis
Sweater Song - Weezer

All in all, it's not totally embarrassing (except for Joan Osbourne, maybe). I'm pretty proud of 1995 me for digging Jefferson Airplane and The Breeders. (Does anyone remember the band Self? I've been trying to find that song for ages. The lyrics go something like: "Are you just unwanted noise?" They used to play it on the Edge a lot. Maybe it was a new music search band. Please help me out, if you can.).

Speaking of musical archaeology, I just re-discovered a song I was super obsessed with during late highschool. Years later, "Pineapple Head" by Crowded House still kills me. KILLS. ME. My God. Please download it now. (Lucid as hell? Not so much.)

(Now playing: "Pineapple Head", Crowded House)

Ticket to Ride

A couple of days ago, I spent my last $100 in the world on something resembling this:



A TTC metropass means unlimited - yes - unlimited mobility! No more paper transfers! No more fumbling for change! No more meticulous planning of my trips downtown in order to cut down on token usage!

Oh bliss! Oh joy unrivalled!

This is going to be the greatest month of my life.

(Now playing: "We Like Accidents!", The Guest Bedroom)