When Harry Met Sally and When Natalia Met The Light

I now have the pleasure of interning at the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation in the factual entertinament department where I share an office with great women who are married and in long, committed relationships. And here I am, going home to my stuffed panda animals. I told my colleague if I learned anything in 2010 it’s that I’m undatable. I’ve reflected on this past year with deep heartache. I’ve wasted too much time begging for attention from members of the opposite sex and not enough time with the ones that love me the most – my girlfriends. I will salvage my membership to the Best Friends Forever Club by spending my new year's eve with these aforementioned girlfriends the same way I spend last new year's eve but in a different location this time – and a different dress.

Of all the things I’ve done wrong these past treacherous years, the one thing I’ve gotten right is transitioning into the new year with those that truly take care of me when I’m sad and support my dreams when I’m apprehensive.

So, it goes without saying, that I’ve never had a New Years Eve kiss. Not that I fantasize about it anyways. Okay, fine. I plead guilty to watching the ending scene of When Harry Met Sally in excessive amounts around this time of year because I’m an emotional cutter. 116,365 views and 80% are from me.



To hell with it! I do think it would be nice to have some gorgeous man run and find you at some loft party while everyone’s counting down “10, 9, 8…” and he’ll tell you “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and the thing is, I love you” and then list all the finds he loves about you that you hate. But my life is not directed by Rob Reiner and I’m not Meg Ryan. I’m merely a woman chasing after things that don’t chase her back. I don’t get my Billy-Crystal-running-to-kiss-me-before-the-ball-drops-because-he-finally-realizes-I'm-the-one moment and I’m okay with that. I’ve got my friends and whatever’s left of my dignity.

Perhaps, if 2010 was the year of not getting, maybe 2011 will be the year of finally being given.

Ginger

Things I will miss:

- the way you look at me
- our first date
- the first time I kissed you at Crooked Star when “Big Mouth Strikes Again” was playing in the background
- breakfast at Cora’s
- holding your hand
- how you’d twirl me around as we walk down empty city streets
- our inside jokes ie: pancakes are bullshit, butterscotch dumplings, 37 and “I’m a treat!”
- the way I light up when you introduce me to your peers as “my girlfriend”
- falling asleep to The National
- slow dancing to “Harvest Moon”
- laughing in grocery stores
- kissing on the cab rides home
- rye & gingers
- scrabble games
- late night drunken trips to McDonald's for my secret treat
- greasy Chinese at 4 a.m. trying to watch movies but never sitting through the entire thing
- your eyes; the most unbelievable blue eyes I’ve ever seen
- how my head fits perfectly on your chest when we sleep
- kissing the curve of your clavicle
- helping you pick out dining tables
- telling you secrets I know you will keep
- agreeing on “Elliott”
- waking up at 5 a.m. to get ready for broadcast and watching you watching me get ready
- supporting your dreams and aspirations
- planning trips and writing dates
- your genuine feedback on my articles/awards
- reading books on your couch as you create music
- running my fingers up and down your spine
- drinking with your friends
- teaching you inappropriate words in Romanian and laughing at your horrible pronounciation
- every inch of you.


Things I will not miss:

- the fact that you’ve suddenly vanished and left me in places of despair

Life's a Buffet, I'm Just the Table

Good day, fellow followers.

I’m not sure whether this is good news or bad news. It appears that after months of chasing after emotionally unavailable cowards, I have found my silver lining in the form of a tall, gorgeous and gifted ginger.

That’s the good news. The bad news is now that I’m happy and monogamous, I have nothing to freakin’ blog about. No complaints. I’m damn reluctant to make this a “Table For Two” where I annoyingly list everything that makes my day while overusing the exclamation mark (I’m looking at you, Gretchen Rubin).

Although my life is hectic in the most fun way possible (reporting the weather, attending shows, conversing on patios with friends, planning a trip to New York), I feel uninspired to write in the style of Julie Klausner, for example, on this teeny tiny blogspot. This feeling is most likely temporary. Just sayin’.

This whole thing reminds me of a quote I heard once. I think it was from Bob Dylan? Either way, some moody, old man with a hoarse voice once said he’s more inspired when depressed. I’m the complete opposite of that right now. And that’s without meds (go me!).

In the meantime, I’ll be writing really dry news reports for The Daily Planet (not to be confused with the Discovery Channel show) and, on the flip side, really fun reviews and interviews for Sticky Magazine – click the link, we’re giving away Dr. Dog tickets for next weekend. Dig it like some dino bones!

Speaking of shows, this Tuesday, Neon Indian is playing at Lee's and I can hardly wait. I hope someone at the show rollerblades upside down like in this video.



Reporting live as a correspondent from Happy Town, I’m Natalia. Back to you.

They Don't Award Losers, Do They?

After several moodswings and angry walks home, countless cigarettes and cheap bottles of white wine, I just scuff at how I try so hard to prove myself to others. Specifically, proving I'm a good catch to members of the opposite sex. I go above and beyond only to end up at square one after every failed attempt. I can pay for all the dinner and movies in the world, I can buy endless amounts of gifts, share all my Marlboro Lights and walk a triumphant amount of kilometres to be with someone only to get nothing in return.

So, now I impatiently ask, when is it time to just give up? When can one accept that it's game over?

The Susan Lucci of Dating

A new girl friend of mine made a comment the other week that really made me think. Obviously, when girls get together we mostly dish about dates and dudes and the hardships that come with finding a decent one that doesn’t keep you a dirty secret (I know, how Sex and the City of us!). Her comment, come to think of it, parallels with something a male friend of mine made when I told him my last boyfriend pulled a Jesse James on me.

She: “It’s hard to get into a serious relationship in the city”

He: “The city is full of sluts”

I have no idea where to go from here. Do I defend the city? Do I defend myself? I’m pretty sure this girl has never been to Brampton or Georgetown or Orangeville. It’s much harder dating in the suburbs, unless your definition of a good time is overeating at East Side Mario’s, walking around the mall and seeing D list movies.

Since living in the downtown core of Toronto, I’ve had the pleasure of meeting some interesting folks. You know, aside from those that ask me for change, start drunken fights or defecate in the park in broad daylight. I’m talking about real interesting folks. Those with bewildering point of views, a sense of adventure and bold ambitions. Those who actually give a detailed response to “What’s going on?” Major deal breaker: saying “not much” every time. Yawn.

When it comes to dating downtown, I’m a fan. Subcription, please? There are a million places to go, a million things to do in comparison to the bleak ‘burbs. On the downside, there’s a bevy of pretentious, snobby people who only want to talk about art and eat vegan cheese. Maybe my friend is right, you can have all the fun you want in the city but can you really settle down here? Since I don’t want to settle down just yet (or ever?), I’ve spoken to friends that do and the consensus is to nab a sweetheart and start families in the small towns they come from.

Now, just because I’m not ready to share an apartment with a paramour and purchase the latest Honda minivan, doesn’t mean I’ll sleep with half the male population in the city just for kicks. Well, that could have been me a couple years ago but with the dawn of a new decade comes the dawn of a new Natalia; my heart has somehow fallen on my sleeve and I can’t get it off. Like I do with everything that comes my way, I roll with it. Sometimes you get an itch inside of you (not the one that requires Vagisil, gross!) to seek out someone actually decent and worthy of your time. Unfortunately, I never read the manual on this kind of thing, so I keep forgetting about this weird thing called “feelings”. This may come on the first date or on the fourteenth date. It’s annoying but you can’t deny it or else it will keep you up all night – like the unfortunate [looking] babies on Teen Mom.



I can't say why dear friends come to me for dating advice since I have the worst track record of all time. I’m the Susan Lucci of dating. None the less, I notice I keep repeating myself to all my girl friends who find themselves in tricky situations with boys who clearly can’t grow into men. Perhaps these friends dig my brutal honesty and the “don’t stand for that, take him out with the trash” attitude I seem to have. Too bad they don’t dig the idea to walk away when things get sketchy and find someone better. Unlike these friends, I have the ability to walk the other way when said things get sketchy and hit the fan. I thank all those Bikini Kill albums I used to worship in my teen years. I love being there for my friends but sometimes I’m sick of consoling those who run into the same problem over and over again. Instead of repeating myself any further, because I can name people at the moment who should know a thing or too, I’ll share my take right here and now. Capiche?

- If he constantly texts instead of calling, he’s basically telling you he doesn’t have balls. A real man calls and speaks to you voice-to-voice, if not in person, if he truly cares to know how your day went.

- If you’ve been seeing a guy for a while and he still hasn’t introduced you to his friends, chances are he’s sleeping with someone else his friends know about.

- If a dude is too scared to hold your hand or kiss in public even after the fact that you’ve declared yourselves exclusive, he’s a sad wimp. No one should date a sad wimp.

- If the only time he wants to hang out is at 3 a.m., you obviously know why. No one ever really becomes girlfriend material after 3 a.m. Vice versa for the guys. Watch out for us man eaters.

- Finding your soul mate at the grocery store is a crock of shit. Chances are, it’ll happen while dancing at a club to Lil Wayne. And by soul mate I mean big mistake. Don’t stress over rushing into a monogamous relationship. I can’t stress how annoying it is to see so many girls whining on their Facebook status about a lack of a boyfriend and posting pictures of couples kissing on Tumblr. I want to just to punch something in the throat every time I see that nonsense.

Alas, I will end with saying that sure, sometimes at the end of the day I think we all want someone to play Scrabble with. Until then, make like yours truly and downloaded the PC version you can play all on your own.

We Got an Amplifier

I remember the first time I heard of The Constantines. Slightly sleazy, but it was in the back of a van in the middle of the night with this dude whose affection I’ve spontaneously stolen (God knows how). Let's be honest, back then, making a good mixtape was a sure way to get laid. I still have the one he made me to this day. Track 4 included You Are a Conductor by the great Cons. I made him rewind so we can listen to it again. He told me the meaning of the song and the background of the band he claimed his favourite. Soon it would be mine. There’s such a thrill when listening to an amazing new song in the company of someone who’s just as new and amazing. The soundtrack to falling in lust is an important one. I’m glad a couple more tracks were of The Cons (Love in Fear, On to You, Shine a Light). Although my feelings towards aforementioned dude never lasted long, my feelings for such a pivotal band in Canadian music grew more and more by the album.

There are many incredible moments in my life where The Constantines’ albums were played fittingly in the background: a romantic drive to a Niagara motel, a mad 2 mile hike home in the winter, missing the train and getting lost on a rainy day in Paris and playing road hockey with the boys just to name a few. There’s no other band I want to hear more than the Constantines to cheer me up. There’s no other band I want to talk about on a first date to break the ice. There’s no other band I want to see live a dozen times.

Speaking of, I am glad I was there to see them (sans keyboardist/guitarist Will Kidman) play their 10th anniversary show at Lee’s Palace back in December. The Constantines never put on a bad show and I like them for that. I remember at this particular show, for the encore, Feist joined Webb and co. on stage to sing Islands in the Stream. Perfect. I get so high off the band and the riffs and the sing-alongs.

The news that the band is now on an indefinite hiatus actually breaks what’s left of my heart. All I’ve got are the great memories of their shows and the feelings I had when listening to their albums for the first time. Hopefully great things are lined up for each band member post-Constantines.

So, like the song I’d constantly listen to on my headphones, to the Cons I say goodnight baby, and Amen!

And to cap things off, just to channel John Cusack in High Fildelity, here are my top 5 favourite Constantines songs. Dig it. It was damn hard picking 5. They’re all great. But, these 5 have more personal meaning to me (And, I’m being grumpy. No MP3s. Go out and get the damn albums).

5. Hotline Operator, off of Tournament of Hearts. The guitar makes this song.

4. Love in Fear, also off of Tournament of Hearts. This song brings back so many memories driving in cars in the middle of the night.

3. Hard Feelings off their last record, Kensington Heights. Another song that sounds just as good, if not better, live.

2. Little Instruments, off of their debut, Constantines. “Went out chasing landmarks, fell asleep at the bar”. Webb just wrote my bio right there. Song’s amazing live, everyone gets real into it.

1. Soon Enough off of Tournament of Hearts. God, the build-up and the lyrics! Webb’s voice is stunning here.

The Perks of Staying, The Perils of Running

Why is it that people have to go the distance to find themselves?

The book-turned-movie, Eat Pray Love, coming out this weekend is the real life story of Elizabeth Gilbert’s round-the-world journey as she struggles to overcome a painful divorce. She thinks she can find emotional refuge in foreign countries. There’s also a growing number of friends I know who claim they’re leaving the country and everything else behind to “search their soul” – cue the Ally McBeal theme song. I also interviewed a favourite local musician of mine, Peter Katz, who was telling me he finds Zen in touring; just driving his car across the country in silence.

I don’t want to find the notion of running away appealing anymore. The reason being, I’m tired. For 22 years, I’ve been doing nothing but running. I’m sick of running. I smoke way too much and I don’t even have on the appropriate shoes. My feet hurt. I’ve now promised myself to find my Zen within the four walls of my home. Within my downtown community, at the very least. I’ve done the whole “run-away-to-Europe-to-get-away-from-it-all”, which was fun and amazing and beautiful but it’s getting old. My passport’s expired. I can’t carry around heavy luggage anymore. I have to stay put. I need to stop running every time I get too scared to feel anything. What will it be like when my feet are planted on the root of my problems and not on the escape route?

Standing still is the hardest thing a spasmodic person such as myself can do. When you’re used to seeing everything blurred, it’s difficult at first to accept the still images of all the things you care about.

A great line from one of my favourite movies, Up in the Air, is “Make no mistake, moving is living.” Well, consider me comatose for the time being. Alas, I want my life engulfed with the still images of the things I chose not to let go of. Not that I take movies too much to heart or anything, but I’m hoping I don’t end up like Ryan Bingham in Up in the Air, as much my conscience tells me otherwise. Yes, maybe staying can be living, too.

Toronto's Resident Redhead Wont Shut Up

Lately, I've been in what I like to call an auburn lull. I have triumphed against the case of homelessness and laid eggs in my own nest now. Picture this: a lovely home across a quiet park and public pool. Good for the summer, pointless in the winter - as is the case with many sweet things in my life.

I’m actually writing not because I feel obliged to update, but rather to prove to myself that I still enjoy doing it, even though I feel like a failure at times.
Upon moving into my new saucy dwelling, I thought a new location meant a new perspective on the trials of everyday life. Unfortunately, the city just kicks my ass sometimes. This was not written in the brochure. Thus far, these past two months I’ve been bullied by a comedian on stage, gotten purse stolen while trying to dance to Daft Punk, rethought all friendships and relationships (for better or for worse) and exchanged one crummy job for one with more merit. All that stuff didn’t come easy. It felt like a freight train. It hurt. What eases my troubled is knowing I have the ability to choose what makes me happy.

Sappy as it sounds, I’ve forced myself to read The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin (BMV is champ when it comes to selling cheap books).



As much as the book sounds like something Oprah would devote an hour of her segment towards, it was a personal profit. But I must say, I read a ton of gorey zombie comics so I'm allowed one sappy chick lit book per year! In all honesty, reading Rubin’s s self journey towards internal happiness was a reminder that frankly, I need to stop being such an uptight bitch. It’s the kind of slap in the face you’re just happy to get.

So, without sounding too Kumbaya, I’m continuing to live in the best city ever (sorry, Prague, Toronto gets dibs on my heart), continuing to be happy about the little things (even though it’s easier to be sad), and continuing to fight off bad comedians, purse thiefs and flakey friends. If New York is the city that never sleeps, Toronto is the city that never shuts ups. And why would it? It’s got some a new chatty, happy-go-lucky resident now.

One Size Does Not Fit All

I’m not the kind of girl to collect fashion magazines religiously. I’m not the kind of girl that really follows trends (mostly because my bank account wont let me). Hell, just last week I bought a romper in Kensington Market that makes me look like an amish polygamist of some sort. Point is, I don’t take fashion and fashion magazines all that seriously but one issue I take seriously is the representation of women in said magazines.

It seems a model's body mass index drops lower and lower each year. For a long time now, people have promised to hire models that are “healthy with the proper BMI”. I even remember Milan flirting with the idea to ban too skinny models from runways. Hah, like that actually happened! It seems no one can keep their word when it comes to promoting healthy body image in this kind of industry.

It turns out there is a microscopically small portion of designers out there that do give a damn about body image. But we’re far from celebrating with chocolates and champagne just yet.

One designer I've come to respect is Mark Fast. Flipping through a copy of Flare – the one fashion magazine I respect - I repeatedly noticed shout outs and photos of his runway shows that (gasp!) feature some “plus size models”.



I use silly quotations around this term because really, these women don’t really look plus size per se. They just look like the average woman. Stunning. Refreshing.

Then, recently during a segment on Fashion Television, I saw that the Prada Fall 2010 runway show also featured more bum and bosom than Karl Lagerfeld could ever handle!



I will be upfront and say yes Lagerfeld is an “artiste” and all that, but as a decent, compassionate human being I think he sucks. I’ve read quotes from him saying things like “no one wants to see a curvy woman”. No one? I am some one and let me tell you, when I look at runway shows or fashion spreads like every average woman, what sells the garment for me is knowing that it fits beautifully on a natural, curvy body and not a bag of bones. When I see things like this:



I just want to upchuck. I’m sure there’s other women out there that feel the same way as much as I'm sure there are naturally thin women out there that just can't help being that way. Damn it. I know designers use ultra thin models because they claim they don’t want the body to detract from the garment. The clothes have to stand out, not the tits or the ass. But I think they’ve got it all wrong. When I see some alien/pogo stick hydrid walking down the runway, I lose interest in the clothing. It automatically doesn't sell it for me. Such a shame.

I just hope that designers like Mark Fast and fashion labels like Joe Fresh (they opened the latest runway show with the stunning, notable plus size model Crystal Renn) continue to step out the norm and showcase a variety of different body types on the runway. It'll be really refreshing.

To restrain myself from neverending whining, I’ll just quickly add that Crystal Renn shares 1/3 the cover of Glamour’s June issue.



Again, I’m not one for fluffy fashion magazines but this copy is definitely worth buying. I’d like to think that if this cover sells the most copies, Renn and other women like her can be cover girls more often.

Veg and the City

Sample writing time! A.K.A. Too busy to write something fresh and exciting.


(coutesy Jen Neabel)

The guy at the next table orders four pieces of bacon, two slices of processed cheese wrapped between two battered, deep fried chicken breasts. It’s a heart attack in a mouthful. As the grease spreads through napkins and the ketchup stains his shirt, all the herbivores in the room wonder if the meal is as good going in as it is coming out.

Everyone’s always talking about where to go to eat the best burger, the spiciest wings or the thickest steak, but what about us herbivores who come in peace, looking to paint the town green? Toronto is a great city in which to be a vegetarian.

With the help of the Toronto Vegetarian Association, aiming to help people live a healthier lifestyle, there are now more animal-friendly restaurants than ever before. Associate Director of the Toronto Vegetarian Association, David Alexander, says a vegan or vegetarian diet prevents chronic diseases such as diabetes, heart disease and lowers both blood cholesterol and pressure.

For both vegetarians and hardcore vegans, Toronto offers a wide variety of servings for breakfast, lunch and dinner. To quench your thirst, Pulp Kitchen, located at 1129 Queen Street East, has a bevy of smoothies among other things. This juice bar’s philosophy is “to nourish the body and eat pure food.” Owner Marie Crawford says the Red Blazer is a favourite among customers because of its fulfilling, creamy texture. It’s made with raspberries, orange juice and banana and costs $4.

“There are higher nutrients in the vegetable juices,” says Crawford. “The Rejuvenator is very energizing.” The drink consists of carrots, ginger, apple and parsley. Unlike other juice bars that use additives and other hidden ingredients, Pulp Kitchen’s drinks are made with nothing but fresh fruit and vegetables. Alexander says cutting down on animal products can reduce our carbon footprint and help with climate change.

“It takes seven times more land to feed a meat eater than a vegetarian,” says Alexander.

Due to late morning meetings, traffic on the highway or overall hectic work schedules, skipping out on a traditional breakfast is not unusual. That’s why Pulp Kitchen also includes a healthy lunch menu for those who want to stop by later in the day.

The French toast is worthy of a gold star. Not only is it whole wheat, and 100% vegan, but it’s also uniquely served with almond topping and fresh fruit. Alexander recommends whole wheat bread rather than white bread which is high in sugar and takes longer for the body to process.

“I recommend the mushroom burger. It’s soy based. We take a whole Portobello mushroom, marinate it and add organic baby spinach,” says Crawford.

If ethnic food is more up your alley, there are two underrated restaurants to visit without having to take out your passport. The first is Annapurna which specializes in South Indian cuisine. It’s the city’s oldest vegetarian restaurant. Located in the Annex at 1085 Bathurst St., it was open to the public in 1974. The restaurant was operated by students of a meditation teacher, Sri Chimnoy, who imgrated from India.


(Annapurna restaurant)

“It was probably the first non-smoking restaurant in Toronto and the first to serve Chai,” says current manager Deva Vira.

For the first time customer, Vira recommends the masala dosai – a rice and lentil crepe filled with potato curry and served with coconut chutney, for $6.95.

All dishes at Annapurna are dairy free. Alexander says a popular mistake new vegetarians make is replacing meat with eggs and dairy. It’s good to show resistance towards processed foods.

“Tofu isn’t processed so much,” says Alexander.

A popular dessert at Annapurna is the chocolate tofu pie for $3.95. It may have been around for decades but, currently, the restaurant is quite surprisingly slow.

Annapurna is a restaurant worth the time to check out, not only for the food but the bright and clean decor as well. Sitting at any of the white tables surrounded by a botanical haven will make any customer feel tranquil and refreshed. An hour’s walk from Annapurna is White Lotus, a Vietnaese restaurant located at 303 Lansdowne Avenue.

A new vegetarian once recommended the fake shrimp; a deep fried and battered appetizer for around $6. White Lotus offers fake meat with almost every main dish. The alternative beef, pork and chicken can make a stomach curl, but the vegetarian shrimp was rich in flavour.

Another item that pleases taste buds is the spicy “hue” soup for around $8. It’s a large portion, so be prepared to take the rest to go.

When eating at White Lotus, stick with appetizers. The portions are as large as the main dishes, for a few dollars less. Eating appetizers like the wontons or shrimp, will fill you up. Commiting to a healthier, green lifestyle shouldn’t be intimidating. It’s as easy as tofu pie.

Herbivores can easily find a tastey cure for hunger in Toronto, a city full of vegetarian restaurants. The same guy with the lust for deep fried chicken and bacon appears the next day to order food again. He seems to have washed the ketchup stains from his shirt. This time, he has traded his greasy fork for chopsticks; he ordered a vegetarian stirfry.

Cheater, Cheater, Pumpkin Eater

What do Elin Woods, Sandra Bullock and I have in common?

We’ve all undergone extremely unnecessary heartbreak brought on by the worst type of person: a cheater.

Some of us may not be highly profiled celebrities or married women with children but any way you slice it, cheating still cuts like a knife. For weeks now, I’ve been trying to uncover the biggest mystery of all time. Why do men cheat? It’s been boggling my mind for the longest time and personally, I’ve accepted the fact that it happens for multiple reasons. It’s boredom, it’s insecurity, it’s extreme, uncontrolled horniness.

Trying to deal with this recent gut wrenching situation, I spoke to a male friend for his perspective. I took his opinion with a grain of salt, because ultimately, I try to make decisions on my own, but one statement of his really stuck in my head. “Why would he go back and get some old McDonald’s when he has a steak dinner waiting for him, you know? You are the steak.” As silly this analogy sounds, it makes a lot of sense to me (excluding the fact that I’m actually more like tofu than streak). It’s quite similar to Sandra Bullock’s case where the supposed love of the beautiful award-winning actress’s life cheated on her with a trashy, white supremacist with tattoos on her forehead. If society ever taught me anything, it’s to never trust anyone with a tattoo on their forehead!

It’s a great blow to the ego to discover not only have you been cheated on, but you’ve been cheated on with a trashy, unintelligent person on bottom of life’s totem pole. I hate to sound bitterly shallow, but really now, you fly Cheaters Airlines and you don’t even upgrade to first class?! They can cry all they want and plead to you to take them back. Maybe some people are worthy of a second chance, but how can you be completely sure that it won’t happen again? Rather than become paranoid and ruin any other relationship the future may hold, I’ve tried my best to overcome the situation. Well, I’ve found out it takes 7 easy steps.


7. You’re going to need a lot of this. Chug.


6. . Once you’re finally numb from all the heartbreak and drunk for the vodka, you’re most likely going to be found at the nearest karaoke bar screaming out lyrics from Alanis Morrissette’s “You Oughta Know”. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NPcyTyilmYY


5. When the anger subsides, the sadness enters. This is a great movie to watch when you find yourself in times of cheatin’ troubles.


4. If you’re a woman like me, you know the mall can lift your spirits with every swipe of the card. Take out as many cards as you have and hopefully a new pair of shoes or a sale at French Connection gives you the tools you need to continue looking fine as hell and making the scum cry in his sleep for ever losing out on a beautiful person such as yourself.


3. Sometimes all we need is a good escape. Personally, I like to distress at terminals. I don’t even need to be travelling anywhere necessarily; I just take pleasure in sitting at the airport watching everyone go by. Call me weird, I just really enjoy randomly sitting in terminals....Okay, so maybe this is why I fail at relationships.


2. Frank Sinatra once said “The best revenge is massive success”. With this in mind, don’t continue to stay in bed crying in a tub of ice cream in your fleece onesie. Continue accomplishing great things with your life while he rots working minimum wage. I take pride in my school and work life. It’s the best kind of mattress to fall back on in a time like this.


1. And finally, when someone you trusted breaks you into a million little pieces, you’re going to have those few friends who’ll pick up those million little pieces and try to put you back together again.

Cheers to those good friends right now!

Paws With Cause

Some say a dog is a man’s best friend. To others, a dog is family. Families go through all kinds of trials and tribulations individually and collectively. Some families have ditched the expensive therapy sessions and opted for a more furry approach to dealing with inner troubles.

Psychologists agree that dogs – or any other domestic pet – can be very therapeutic. There are also many groups in the city of Toronto that use dogs during human therapy.

St. John Ambulance uses therapy dogs to help psychically and mentally challenged kids through tough battles. The non-profit organization Paws with Love to Share does something very similar. Volunteers travel with animals to hospitals, nursing homes and schools to socialize, motivate and educate struggling people. Caring Canine is another non-profit organization that has a similar mandate.

Research has shown that owning a pet reduces blood pressure and stress levels. Owning a pet also allows one to be more emotionally connected and social with others.

Alana West can attest to that. The adoption of Maltese and Bijon mixed Leo (pictured below) got her father, Dave through his worst days. He was adopted from the human society in Alabama two years ago, before the nomadic family moved yet again to Fort Meyer, Florida.



“He had been one of a group of dogs that were confiscated from a mentally ill woman that had been hoarding them in an un-airconditioned garage with various other types of animals,” West says. “The woman wanted to start a pet store, but because of her mental illness she was unable to care for the animals and they were rescued from the terrible conditions.”

As West recalls, when they took Leo home, he was heavily covered in mange and feces. She says they had no idea how old he was because he was so sick looking. He had a viral infection that had been spreading around, killing animals at the Lee County Humane Society. Shortly after he was adopted, Alana’s father lost his job and sank into a severe depression.

“He is not an emotionally open man and so despite any efforts from our family, he refused to open up to any of us. He did, however, bond to Leo. It was a mutual love.”

It appears Leo gave her father a reason to leave the house and socialize when going to the dog parks. People were in awe of the dog and it finally gave her doubting father a sense of value.

“When he had a heart attack and needed triple bypass. Leo was his security blanket. He was so antsy to get out of the hospital and home to Leo,” says West, adding that Leo also helped him in his recovery and again with his depression, which is a common side effect of the procedure.

She adds that her father openly credits Leo with helping him through some of his hardest emotional lulls. Her father was never much of an animal person until Leo came in his life. Now he is actively involved in charities and rescue programs for shelter animals and rescues.

“My parents have rescued and fostered animals that would have been euthanized had they not come into my parents’ life. It is because of Leo my father has become this way,” says West.

Sally Hosein is not only a mother to two children, she’s also a mother to all the animals she cares for when volunteering at several organizations.

Due to a car accident in 2006, Hosein still experiences neck and back pain and had to resign from work. Hosein credits pet adoption commercials for motivating her to be more involved with local animal shelters. A few months after the accident, after not working or leaving the house, Hosein began volunteering as a dog walker at a Mississauga animal shelter. She regularly visits Pawsway, a pet discovery centre located at the Harbourfront Centre in the heart of downtown Toronto.

When asked why she loves animals so much, Hosein says it’s because they are not judgmental; they are able to love anyone no matter what race or gender.

One thing Hosein loves seeing when stopping by PawsWay is the Purina Animal Hall of Fame. Over the past 41 years, 142 heroic Canadian dogs, cats and even horses have been inducted.

Anyone can agree it’s great to see all the people in this big, bright city taking the time to honour their four legged friends.

“I’ve seen so many sad dogs and cats sitting in their cages at shelters. They’re just waiting for a chance to make an impact on someone’s life,” says Hosein. “I truly believe they all deserve a chance at a better life and a chance to make someone’s life better, too.”

A Hate Letter To The Worst Magazine

Dear Cosmopolitan Magazine,

It’s really no surprise that I despise your soft magazine. With all the pink fonts, cheesy photo shoots and the recycled articles on how to climax while on top, as if you just discovered the secret yesterday. It’s beneath me to ever pick up such a thing ever again.

Sure, I may have been a fan once when I was 15 and curious to know what fellatio was all about. But, as I have matured and grown into a sexually liberated woman, you have not.

I will give you kudos though, for successfully brainwashing young women into spending $5 a month for your magazine when really, how many cover stories on shower sex can you write? How many boring stories about how to flirt can we read? Again, it’s all recycled fluff. You’re nothing but a cute bunny trapped in a ferocious lion’s den. You won`t win the fight.

I am a woman and I love sex. I love sex more than I love love. In life, it’s way up there next to breathing and Nintendo. I know it and everyone knows it – except you, Cosmo. That’s why in order to ever obtain my respect, it’s important to get up to the level that a sex & relationships magazine should be. Why not investigate and write about bondage, swinger’s parties or DP if you’re ballsy enough? At times, Cosmo, you write like a 50 year old Conservative woman who uses the term “make love” instead of “fuck”.

Also, your erotic fiction excerpts have the same appeal as a lukewarm bath. I think a 12-year-old has the ability to write something a bit saucier. What is also laughable is your Bedside Astrology. Really? You actually believe that because I’m a Taurus, the moon thinks I’m going to have a wild time with a co-worker on January 30th? Really? Who’d you hire to come up with this stuff, Charlie Sheen with a mild case of ESP?

Cosmo, there’s no time for me to read poorly written articles on how to please my man. I already know how to do that; otherwise I wouldn’t have a man around to please. I’d suggest turning tables and finally writing articles on how men can please us but this is what a smart person does: talks to their partner about it! Hopefully your readership gains back enough brain cells to realize this and that will be the end of your crummy project.

Enough with the fluff, get to the good stuff!

I might be waiting,

Natalia.

Music To Smile About At The Smiling Buddha Bar

I remember there once was a time when I wanted nothing more than to spend all my days at home, cuddling with my dog, watching The Mary Tyler Moore Show, dressed in comfy hermit attire. I’d blame this on the winter blahs but I’ve been hibernating in my red messy bedroom since last summer. Luckily, just in time, I’ve snapped out of this funky coma. I think I happened to wake up in Narnia, though, because of all this mystical music I’ve been discovering lately. This Friday, I’m in for quite the fantasy ride.

The Smiling Buddha Bar presents: Cloud Nothings, Free Kisses and Mathemagic at 9:30 p.m. Friday, March 5th.



A friend recommended Cloud Nothings and I’ve been frequenting their Myspace page listening to tracks ever since. Started by the very young (19 years old to be exact) Dylan Baldi in Ohio, Cloud Nothings is planning on sharing their stellar, lo-fi music magic with the rest of the continent – for now. What makes this band’s album Turning On worth the listen is the hyperactive guitar riffs and pulsing drums just slightly overlapping on top of Baldi’s at times forgettable voice. With this band, you can’t stop singing along but you don’t know what you’re singing along to; however, it doesn’t make the band any less fun.

Cloud Nothings - Little Ray Gun mp3



By going on tour with Cloud Nothings, Free Kisses is sure to make her voice heard to those listeners that crave fresh yet delicate and airy sound. Those few, short songs uploaded on her Myspace don’t do her justice. Hopefully, it’s during her live performances when she truly shines and makes a name for herself.



After a long, hard week you just want to unwind in the sun, maybe smoke something that’s not exactly a cigarette....Mathemagic is the perfect soundtrack! Hailing from Guelph and Toronto, the unsigned brothers that are Evan and Dylan Euteneier are sure to be more recognized this year. Hopefully, they can exceed everyone’s expectations that they’re just another wannabe version of MGMT. I can’t wait for their album to come out.

Mathemagic - Breaststroke mp3

A Love Letter To Christina Hendricks

Dear Christina Hendricks,

It may be too late for a Valentine’s Day letter, but it’s never too late to tip your hat off to an exceptional woman in the industry. From your small screen appearance in Firefly as Saffron, to your current role as the feisty Joan Holloway in Mad Men, I can finally look at an actress in complete awe.

Having grown up looking like a hot mess (big forehead, small eyes, boobs larger than life and hips that don’t lie), it was hard to relate to anyone in the media. They were all prim, proper, skinny, sometimes plastic, and able to fit in a Diane von Furstenberg sample size. No one looked like me! Except for Velma from Scooby Doo but does a cartoon character even count? When you’re a couch potato going through puberty and you discover that everyone on television doesn’t look anything like you, you begin to build repulsion for your own alien appearance.

Then came you: fiery red hair, ample bosom, a grand derriere and even a cute "butt chin" to boot! All the attributes I’ve been taught by society to hate. It's rather refreshing to see such a divine resemblance on the television screen because it gave me hope that finally, perhaps Hollywood fell off the “Size Zero is the Hero” bandwagon.

But then came what none of us fans expected: heavy backlash. All last year and even this year the media has been criticising your size and shape. One writer for the New York Times looked at photos of your appearance at this year’s Golden Globes and said “you don’t put a big girl in a big dress”. The writer even dared to Photoshop a photo of you looking bigger. Throughout the country, women everywhere gasped in horror, dropping their tubs of Ben&Jerry ice creams. The unconstructive criticism on your body is an insult to all of us women who are trying to make best of what we were born with. It’s appalling that who I consider to be the epitome of the perfect woman is more known for her body than her acting chops.

I commend you for having the guts to speak out about the negative hysteria geared towards your natural figure. In the February 22nd issue of New York Magazine you expressed “It kind of hurt my feelings at first. Anytime someone talks about your figure constantly, you get nervous, you get really self-conscious.” You just said what millions of women around the world wish to say to their fellow bullies. Some of us haven't had to courage or the confidence to show that beauty doesn't come in one package. In a society that claims models Gemma Ward and Coco Rocha too fat to model, it’s hard for us normal girls to feel empowered and beautiful with our own bodies. I understand there are women who are born naturally waif thin, and no one has an issue with that. But for those women born naturally fuller, apparently that's a problem.

Kudos to you, though, for speaking up and getting people to finally back off and focus more on your talent. Hopefully this continues when other female artists grab the spotlight. We need more people like you, Christina. We need more women to fight against society’s standards of beauty. Beauty comes in all sizes and I thank you for being the one to bring curves back.

Love, Natalia.

Hearts Grow Back Like Hair, Right?

Relationships are a lot like haircuts. You spend a long time contemplating it, you invest a lot of trust in someone who seems right for the cut, and then suddenly, things get ugly and there’s not much you can do to fix it. Relationships and haircuts are the two biggest fears in my life. Study has shown neither has done me any good, which explains why I’ve been single with split ends for more than a year. There are a million other things I’d rather be doing than getting a cut or a commitment, i.e.: running with the bulls, living in an igloo in Antarctica, listening to Nickelback on repeat everyday or repairing the city’s sewage system.

But hair and hearts mature and we soon find ourselves wanting to step outside of our comfort zone, roll the dice and hope for a yahtzee. I think our primal instinct as humans is to say “yes” to whatever’s handed to us. Unfortunately, I fall into the pile of malfunctioning humans who nod while saying “no”. As the saying goes, every human has to evolve in order to survive. Therefore, I will eventually cut my hair and be exclusive, which I am currently trying to achieve but in mere baby steps. When your fear of failing weighs you down like a ton of bricks it’s hard to move any faster towards your goal.

For some reason though, I guess on a whim, I decided to take a risk and change things up a bit for once (it seems to be the theme of this new year so far). Perhaps I’ll say goodbye to my amber waves and embrace my inner Elvira through a mullet, or get an Anna Wintour bob or even rock the Conan O’Brien pompadour, as I mourn his late night television demise. Possibilities can be real exciting.

I called my stylist and made an appointment. I thought long and hard about this pursuit, like I did with my present courtship. I have this perfect idea of what it could be like and how I’d benefit from it but I also couldn’t let go of the awful idea of being vulnerable and dubitable.

At one point I was so excited and open to change, but as I sat in the stylist's chair, any strands of hope that were left just fell from my head. I looked at the women around me who were enjoying their interesting haircuts. Why are they so easy to embrace change? Are they just as easy to accept new relationships or are they truly bitter and lonely, therefore dismissing my aforementioned theory?

After washing my hair, my stylists asked me the burning question. Being the most fickle woman on the planet, I gave up the inner battle and blurted “no, just a trim”. As soon as the words came out of my mouth I felt small pricks of disappointment. Goodbye leap of faith, hello life less ordinary.

Walking home from the salon, I kept asking myself if I would give the same fluctuant answer when asked to confront the future of my relationship status. I’m still on a seesaw about it, but it doesn’t mean the ride won’t be any less fun. Although not as adventurous as getting a completely different 'do, a trim is essential for growing healthier, stronger hair. I guess the phrase “less is more” can be applied here both ways. The less we try to label relations, the more room we have to grow and enjoy life whether it’s in limbo or not [note: I’m very happy in limbo right now, thanks for asking].

The scary thing is much like relationships, haircuts can have an unavoidably ugly outcome. Patience may not be a virtue as you wait for it to grow back. When worse comes to worst, those with damaged hair can always wear a wig. Now, do drugs stores sell anything like that for damaged hearts?