Tales from Toronto (Part 3)

Yes, yes, I know I left Toronto two weeks ago, but I was sifting through my photos and they were making me laugh, so I just had to do one more post about my wonderfully weird hometown before getting fully back to the goings-on in Paris. Yes, I'm going to be one of those annoying people who make you look at their holiday photos - sorry!

This is a little family Xmas tradition - the building of the gingerbread houses.  There were five of them this year (so it's a bit more like building a whole gingerbread suburb, actually) but this was my favourite house - please note the giant plume of icing "smoke" coming from the chimney, and the chocolate-button bosoms on the gingerbread lady.  Hee!  Outstanding...

A lovely friend, whom I have known since I was eight years old, took me out for a very boozy lunch one day (ahh, she knows me so well) and this little piece of weirdness was on the wall of the restaurant bathroom.  And I think I speak for us all with a resounding "Huh?  Why?  What the -?  Why would you -? Huh??"  See, I told you before that Canadians are slightly strange  - in the nicest possible way, of course.

On another day, I was out for a very boozy dinner (yes, apparently there was a theme to my Toronto visit) with some other friends, and we went to this lovely restaurant.  Isn't it nice?  Doesn't it look like a reasonably sophisticated dining establishment?  Well, scroll on down to the next photo...

...because this is the outdoor seating area for the above restaurant.  Yes, those are hay bales.  Hee!  So. Freakin'. Awesome. 

For those of you who don't personally know Miss K, here's a bit of info about me: I hate dry food - things like toast are my idea of hell.  Ugh.  But I love sauce, gravy, everything like that (at family holiday dinners, I'm actually not allowed to have the gravy boat until everyone else has their turn, because I would cheerfully just take it all),  so when dining out, I always ask for extra sauce - and in Toronto, when you ask for extra, they give you extra.  Heaven...

In case you're wondering what the hell this is, let me enlighten you.  It's a Christmas tree made entirely of snowshoes, it's in the poshest department store in Toronto, and it's awesome.

All right, technically I should have used this photo for a Totally Crap Outfit of the Week post, but it makes me laugh so much -  I just had to keep it with the rest of the Toronto photos.  Look at him - he's all: "Ooooh yeah, fedora, big scarf, fur coat,  I am one pimptastic bad-ass mofo, that's right.  I'm so bad."  And then he goes and slings a Jamaica backpack on top of it all like a total doofus.  Heeheeheeheehee! 

All right, so that's the end of the Tales from Toronto for another year, I hope you liked them (although I am still totally kicking myself for not getting a photo of the chandelier made entirely of hockey sticks - if any of you TO readers know the restaurant it's in and you send me a photo, I'll publish on here and give you full credit!).  We now return you to your regular Paris programming...

Totally crap outfits of 2010 (previously unseen)

Okay, I am little behind with this due to my recent zombiefication (see previous post for details), but I did promise you the totally crap outfits that didn't make it into the blog last year, so here you are, with love from Miss K.  In no particular order:

You know, I admire the commitment to the crazy, I really do.  Especially the parasol, that's a nice touch.  But a) would it have been too much effort to run a brush through your hair? and b) did I mention the craaaayyyyyyzeeeeee???

Okay, as you all know, I myself am genuine low-class swamp trash, but I promise you that even in the depths of poverty, when I was wearing hand-me-downs that had probably gone through about eighteen owners before they finally ended up with me, I still never wore anything this bad.   Really, you're going to come to Paris and stand in front of the Louvre wearing this?  You're giving trash a bad name, honey...

Okay, let me explain something to you, dearie.  When you went into the tourist shop and bought that tea towel with the Eiffel Tower on it?  Yeah, it's not actually meant to be worn as a dress.  Just a little tip from me to you. 

Somewhere in Bhutan, there must be a naked and very pissed-off monk wondering why someone stole his robes, and why this woman is wearing them through the streets of Paris.  Dude, we're all wondering that...

Quick note to my family:

Hi guys,

Could you do me a great big favour?  When I get to be over 70 (like this lady), if I attempt to leave the house dressed like this, could you please have me committed immediately?  Thanks!

Much love,

Miss K

I took this on the Metro, and this is all I could get into the shot because she was right beside me, but really: leopard print shoes, swirly fuschia tights with a butterfly pattern, and an embroidered neon floral coat?  Just thank me for not photographing the top half of the outfit.  Really.  Just thank me.

 I know - you're looking at this, thinking you should maybe call the nice men with the butterfly nets to come and collect this lady?  Look a little more closely, because it appears she's already wearing a butterfly net.  Over a top that has a butterfly on it.  A butterfly with...roots?  Oooookay.   Moving right along. And  don't get me started on the hair, because if I look at this photo much longer, you might need to call the nice men with the butterfly nets to come and collect me.

You know, Miss K is half Scottish, and I like a bit of tartan from time to time.  This?  Is a lot of tartan.  And generally speaking, if it looks like you needed a crowbar to wedge you into your outfit?  Then maybe, just maybe, you should wear something else - something a little looser that doesn't involve any tartan.  I would thank you, and I'm pretty sure the good people of Scotland would thank you as well...

Sometimes I do this crazy thing.  Sometimes, before I leave the house, I look in a mirror to see whether what I'm wearing is the most unflattering outfit ever seen by the eyes of humankind.  And if it is?  Then I don't wear it.  Gah!  It's not rocket science, people...

Could I just.....oh, I don't know....make a teeny tiny suggestion here, sweetie?  I mean, it's only a thought, no need for you to decide about it right away or anything, no pressure.  But here's my idea (and again, just a crazy notion that came to me): that the next time you decide to cover yourself in glue and roll around on the floor of a thrift shop (which is clearly the thrift shop in Hell) and then go out in public wearing whatever rags stuck to you, I'm thinking you should just.... Not. Ever. Do. That. Again.

Zzzzzzzzombie...

Let me tell you a little story about the zombiefication (it's my blog, I get to make up whatever words I want, so there) of Miss K.  It all started on the 29th of December when I caught my red-eye flight from Toronto to Paris.  Here's the thing: I can't sleep on planes.  Ever.  I am so wretchedly uncomfortable that it's impossible, no matter how tired I am - somehow it seems that my already-long legs grow an extra three inches, my already-bony knees expand to the size of watermelons, my already-broad shoulders increase to linebacker size, my already-long neck elongates so far that my skull dangles right off the back of the headrest, and I'm pretty sure I grow an extra arm from somewhere around my left shoulderblade.  But one day, a friend of mine introduced me to sleeping pills and ahhhhh, sleep on a plane became possible (the first time it happened I was freaked: took off in Toronto, swallowed a pill and, like, five minutes later we were landing at Heathrow, it was like traveling through time!)

Anyway, all was going according to plan - got on the plane, ate my meal, washed my sleeping pill down with some red wine (yeah, I'm so rock'n'roll), put in my industrial-strength earplugs, put on my eye-mask and blanket, pretzeled all my extra limbs into the most comfortable position possible...and then the toddler in the row in front of me started to scream.  And I mean the most bloodcurdling, earshattering scream ever in the history of the universe - my industrial-strength earplugs were no match for ol' Lungs McDecibelthroat.  And he screamed all the way to Paris, I kid you not.  And the reason I know this?  Is because I was f*cking awake for the whole flight.  Grrrrr doesn't even begin to cover it.  But remember that sleeping pill I took?  Well, the good people who invented Zopiclone were not messing around - the stuff works, especially when you combine it with fatigue and jetlag.  So as soon as I got on the bus from the airport?  Asleep.  As soon as I walked from my stop to my apartment and got into my room?  Asleep.  Asleep for 14 hours, people!

But that worked well because it was New Year's Eve and I had a party to go to (which was fabulous and I had a great time and it totally took the bad mojo off the holiday for me, in case you were wondering), so I was absolutely fine to be awake until 6am and then to sleep off my monster hangover all day.  But by this point, my poor body clock had no idea what timezone it was in, who the hell I am, or why it should cooperate with me in any way whatsoever.  So I spent the last few nights tossing and turning (and cursing that toddler - if that's wrong and bad and mean, I'll just go ahead and add it to the very long list of things I'm already going to hell for) and not falling asleep until about 7am, which did not lead to productive days, I assure you.  So last night I had to turn to those nice Zopiclone people again to force my body clock to get into the right timezone, and I finally got a decent night's sleep. 

That's why you haven't heard from me for the past few days.  I mean, I could have posted, but Zombie Miss K would have only written something like: oihgeo ihah daegfnq oen igei hfqek fnkavn dtler joarhe.  So you really didn't miss much...

Happy NYE!

Well, gentle readers, I'm back.  Back in Paris, back to blogging, back in black - you name it, I'm back to it.  And in honour of New Year's Eve, I was going to wrap up 2010 with the Totally Crap Outfits of the Year, because there are quite a few totally crap outfits which I have photographed this year, but for one reason or another, never got around to writing about.  However, I am leaving shortly for a dinner followed by a masquerade party and I don't have time to truly do these outfits justice in such a short time; trust me, they deserve my proper care and attention - I was actually laughing out loud just looking back at the photos.  So look for that tomorrow - or possibly the next day, depending on how outrageous my hangover is tomorrow...

And hopefully it will be outrageous and I will have a wonderful time tonight - last year's NYE was the worst one of my entire life (and that's including the year I had a spinal tap because doctors thought I had meningitis - which is a long story for another time, but you get the idea, yes?) so I need to take the bad mojo off it by having extra fun tonight.  And of course I wish all of you extra fun in return - Happy New Year's, everyone!

Merry Xmas, y'all

Well, gentle readers, Christmas is upon us and I am going to go radio silent for a couple of days (okay, fine - more so than usual.  Yeesh - you guys are a tough crowd...) to enjoy the festivities of the season.   But before I do, I just wanted to say thanks for tuning in to my little blog this year, I really appreciate it.  So, whoever you are, wherever you are in the world, and however you celebrate whatever the festive season  means to you:  best wishes from Miss K -  I hope you are with family and/or friends, that there is food (and booze, if your taste runs that way), and that you have a very happy and safe holiday season.   (Yes, even Miss K's frozen, black, Scrooge-y, Grinchy heart thaws a little at this time of year, just deal with it!)

Reims with the Rednecks

A couple of weeks ago, I went to Reims with Mr and Mrs Redneck.  We didn't know much about champagne (other than how to drink it, which we are all very, very good at), so where better to find out about it than in Reims, the champagne capital of France, and therefore the world?  So we set off for a day of sightseeing (Reims cathedral and the Basilica St-Remi), education (touring a champagne house), and general merriment (the drinking of many samples of champagne).  In fact, our merriment factor was cranked up so far by the end of the day that we just had to keep it up on our train journey back to Paris.  We had planned to visit the bar car, but it was closed - and there we were, with a bottle of champagne that the Rednecks had purchased.  So, since it was an emergency, naturally we popped the cork and drank the champagne straight from the bottle (much to the disgust of the French people around us on the train).  Oh yeah, you just don't get much classier than that...  Anyway, some photos from the day.  Enjoy!

Snowy fields shot from the train window

Reims - home of champagne and pink buses

Reims - looking mighty picturesque

Reims cathedral exterior detail - souls being dragged off to hell

Reims cathedral exterior detail - seriously freaky bizarro gargoyle

Reims cathedral exterior detail - is this the patron saint of beer?

Reims cathedral exterior

Reims cathedral exterior

Reims cathedral exterior detail - close up of the highest point of the previous photo

Reims cathedral exterior

Reims cathedral exterior - more of the freaky bizarro gargoyles

Reims cathedral interior

Reims cathedral interior - stained glass designed by Marc Chagall

Reims cathedral - it's ridiculously tall

Champagne tour - learning the different sizes of bottles.  I like the one on the left...

Champagne tour - GH Mumm

Champagne tour - GH Mumm vintage vault

Champagne tour - GH Mumm's vast underground tunnels

GH Mumm - first tasting of the day

Basilica St Remi

Basilica St Remi - interior detail

Basilica St Remi

More tastings at GH Martel

And at Pommery

The beautiful buildings at Pommery

The beautiful tasting at Cazenove - last stop of the day

Tales from Toronto (Part 2)

Toronto is an awesome place to live.   The weather is great in the spring, summer and autumn (okay - admittedly, winter can be a little rough), we have a lake so big you could fit a hefty chunk of Europe into it, and we have world-class theatre, opera, ballet, restaurants, bars, music, wine, sports teams (okay - admittedly that one is stretching it a bit) and so forth.  But no matter how sophisticated and cosmopolitan Toronto can be, it's still a place where someone can get on the subway with a circular saw tied to his belt and no one will give him a second look.  You don't get that on the Paris Metro...