Month: November 2007

The Skinny on Skinny Jeans

Posted by Caitlin Jane – 29/11/2007

I have to admit, when I heard that skinny jeans were in I laughed. Then I tried a pair on and I cried. This was 3 years ago when I was still living in Windsor and feeling terribly sorry for myself. And I was about 17 pounds heavier than I am now. Naturally, a couple months ago, I broke down and  bought myself a pair of kitson jeans (no, not the ones designed by Posh)  for $5 at Winner’s (size 10, 2 sizes smaller than I was a year ago). Yay me.

Here’s the problem I have with skinny jeans: they fit strangely. They are loose around the top part, I’d say waist band but it’s considerably lower than that, perhaps pube line? I can’t even put a belt on because then I get that adorable muffin top. And I happen to hang out with a 4 year old who thinks it’s hilarious to pull the back of my jeans down and tickle the top of my butt crack. While screaming with laughter. The bottom part of the jeans are incredibly tight, like, cutting off the circulation to my feet tight. I admit I have big calves from years of gymnastics and track team, but this is borderline ridiculous. I almost can’t even pull them up high enough to cover my Chuck Taylor’s.

Good think leg warmers are back in. Another thing I swore I would not buy, but did.

Oh, and fyi, I would love any shirt from this store. Or jewelry.  And could someone tell me why those motherfuckers Macy’s don’t ship to Canadia?

A Tale, in Three Parts*

Posted by Caitlin Jane – 07/11/2007

1. At school on Monday, one of the students showed me her new tattoo. It’s a skull with a mohawk on her forearm. At first I was doubtful, but I touched it and it’s real. Then she demonstrated how still she had to hold her arm, for, like, a half hour. Like this. The fella she was sitting beside had to try it out. Stretching out his arm, like this? Like this. Like this. And finally I started laughing and they stopped.

2. On the subway, on my way to work, I was reading a new book, The 100 Mile Diet, which I highly recommend, and was rudely interrupted by a man with a can of beer sneakily hidden in a black plastic beer store bag, who loudly asked “Excuse me, do you like your man to have a six pack?” to another woman on the train. She ignored him. Louder “HEY! Do you like your man to have a six pack??” directed at me. I stared, for a brief moment, then went back to my book. Shouted “All you ladies on the train, raise your hand if you like your man to have a six pack, ’cause I got one and I ain’t afraid to show you right now!” I eased my way further down the train, further away from him. Then, in a more normal volume, to a woman and her friend “Hey, how old are you? I don’t normally do older women, but you look fine. You like a six pack?”

3. A clue to show you don’t live with a room mate: all your cutlery and food storage containers are still in your house.

shannonshand.jpg

*none of these are related, I just needed to get them all down.

Some children do ‘ave ‘em

Posted by Caitlin Jane – 01/11/2007

My mom came to visit yesterday. We don’t get to see each other nearly enough, and when we do it always seems rushed.

To make a long story short, her car stinks. It was stinky on (Canadian) Thanksgiving, and we did a quick search for the source of the horrible smell and came up empty handed. This time, however, she asked me to get the car’s manual out of the glovebox because a light was going on and she wasn’t sure what it was for. So, lucky me, I opened the box and this incredible stench came flowing out and I almost threw up. There was a clear plastic bag with…something wrapped in it and, my God, worst smell ever. We both started getting a little hysterical, but because we were in the midst of heavy traffic on College St, there was nothing to be immediately done. Lucky for us both, a red light at University Ave allowed me to leap out of the car, dash to the garbage bin and throw the offending bag out.

Didn’t make much difference. And she still wanted me to read that darn manual, which I refused, as it was completely tainted with the stink. And despite the cold day, we rode the rest of the way to Em’s with the windows down. She claims to have a poor sense of smell, but it was alarming how bad it was. Think of dead mice that someone shit on to keep the smell down. Then it all fell into a vat of rotten milk. Definitely in my top five worst things I have ever smelt ever list.