Why you shouldn’t apply wallpaper with your sig-oth


When it comes to the wallpaper adage, it’s totally true. Clearly my boyfriend has no idea what “straight” means and this was a problem.

This week’s InfoNews column is up and it’s about committing relationship suicide — or, why you shouldn’t hang wallpaper with your sig-oth. You can read it HERE.



Why you might not be ready to let go

cotton candy ice cream

The last time I ate cotton candy ice cream I was 18 and crying over it.

Actually, I was crying over my boyfriend breaking up with me, which he just so happened to do over a bowl of cotton candy ice cream, but I just naturally associate the two.

Thing is, before he broke up with me, cotton candy ice cream was my favorite thing in the world. The way it makes your poop blue for two days because of all the food coloring.

Just kidding, I liked it for the taste.

Anyway, after that whole debacle I kind of swore it off. The break up debacle, not the blue poop. Gross you guys.

I’ve been craving cotton candy ice cream since January, though, and as the most beautiful Indian summer  (thanks global warming!) comes to an end, I thought I better woman up and shove my face full of it before the October rain makes me want cotton candy tea instead. Which I’m not sure is a thing, but it probably is.

As always, I made it a big deal. And by big deal I mean I made sure it was real ice cream and not gelato and that my boyfriend Steve would eat it with me so that I could consider it some kind of grand non-break-up feat and not like a re-enactment of the opening scene of Bridget Jones’ Diary.

“So, are we breaking up?” he asked me on the park bench over my cone of artificially colored and flavored frozen milk. He knew the story.

It was a good question. That would be smart. Complete the circle. Welcome cotton candy ice cream back into my life with a fresh new purpose. I could be in control of the dairy product’s fate once again.

The ice cream started to melt down my hand as I sat there contemplating half-heartedly his suggestion. I licked it up. It melted more. And before I could do anything besides Instagram it, the entire child-sized ice cream cone left my hands and landed face down on the pavement.

Now was my chance.

“No,” I said as I reached for the bowl he had in his hands, “nope, we’re not breaking up.”

As I spooned the ice cream into my mouth in a much less fashionable manner than I had been moments before I realized that sometimes we hold on to things longer than we need to, simply because we’re waiting until we’ll be able to appreciate the fact we have let them go.

I don’t know if cotton candy ice cream will ever be my absolute favorite again — I’m pretty partial to Ben & Jerry’s Half Baked — but I could certainly have a cone-full every now and then and bask in the glory of knowing I’ve let one more thing go.

Because let’s face it, if we’re going to make room to hold any grudges at all in our lives, it certainly shouldn’t be over something that makes your poop multi-coloured.

P.S. I want you to know I asked Steve if he minded being introduced to you all in a post where I talked about poop. He told me he trusted my creative judgement. So, a break up may still be pending.



The Full Ninety — it’s the new full monty


This weeks InfoNews column is up and it’s all about why you should be celibate for a bit. HAHA! Kidding. It’s about why some people should be celibate for a bit. Not you, you stud. You can read it HERE.


Why You Need To Do Something Stupid, Immediately

This past weekend I left my Grandmother and Aunt in the London suburbs as I flew to the Channel Islands to visit my Disney sister, Tori. The last time I saw her I was riding Peter Pan drunk and throwing my cell phone into the air as opposed to my Mickey Mouse ears. It’s hard to think it has been 8 months since I left the tropical storms of Florida behind and moved back to Canada (brr.)

Seeing as I’m always in the throes of some sort of identity crisis and right now is no exception, I figured nothing would centre me more than showing up on her doorstep and reliving what was – I maintain – the simplest four months of my entire life.

Anyway, I couldn’t come all the way over here and not see her. What’s the point of taking shitty foreign jobs if you can’t make friends that last a lifetime, amiright?

Maintaining friendships when you don’t like staying in one place is tough. First of all, there’s the whole international-texting-cost-a-million-dollars-thanks-Rogers-communications thing, but secondly, it’s difficult to remain close to someone if you’re not actually close to them.

I mean we’ve all dabbled with long-distance relationships, but that’s what PornHub and FaceTime are for.

Unfortunately, while I love my girlfriends and frequently send them sexts to edit before I use them IRL, the situation doesn’t have a temporary quick fix. You kind of just have to make the most of it when you are together.

I’ve learned that the best way to bond with someone is to do something stupid together. Get accosted by the police in a church parking lot, take a spontaneous trip across the border, go skinny dipping at midnight, purposefully let the car run out of gas in the middle of the desert, drunk dial your boss when you’re at a Metallica concert and tell him you’re both going to be sick tomorrow . . . you know the drill.

You remember stupid things. You remember things that make good stories. You remember things that put you out of your comfort zone and most importantly, you remember the person you experienced them with.

So while I’m not telling you to go off and drink a 40 of Jim Beam and see where the night takes you, I’m going to gently suggest that the next time you only have a moment to spend with someone important to you, you do something stupid.

Jump out of a plane, go sing hip hop karaoke, crash a wedding with an open bar, break into your parents house and make bacon at 3am even though you don’t live there anymore . . .

And I promise that the next time you see them – even if it’s 8 months from now – it will be like no time has passed at all.

xo & yw