…to the fall 2006 in Toronto, and my first residence on Sherbourne & Wellesley.
If you live or are familiar with Toronto, then you know that that particular area is no good. But I got lucky with the landlord (he would fix the problems right away and gave us discounts on pizza since he owned the Domino’s below us) and a very quiet roommate (I would see her once every two weeks and I would always startle her; we never had any social functions). I found this place a week after I moved to Toronto, and considered it a pretty rad deal.
No matter what it was (and no matter that 9 months later I moved to Kensington), it was my landing point in Toronto, and the start of all my explorations. I used to spend a lot of time there in the early fall of 2006. My Russian folks from the University of Waterloo paid many a visit during their co-ops and party frenzies (have you noticed that I used the word “frenzy” in the last 3 posts?), my mom saw this place when she visited, we could do laundry at home, I hosted a couple of my first ever dinner parties, and even facilitated a number of peculiar memories.
I remember coming home late at night, looking like a tough m*&$@#!er so that nobody would talk to me, watching the trannies and cabbies hang out at the Beaver gas station. The writing material. I would even write, “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness…” and so long and so forth, if Charlie Dickens hadn’t thought of that one first.
I used to allocate a lot of my personal & precious time to things like being mad at my boyfriend for insignificant things. In reality, there were maybe about five things I should have really been mad about. I must’ve had too much time on my hands. I also loved to devote my time to getting angry at friends for silly things, although those frenzies didn’t last long.
Behold! I noticed that on Friday Darren kept apologizing and apologizing, and asking me if I was mad about x, y, z, and then not believing me. It was actually cute. But I wasn’t mad. I’ve spent so much time of my young life worrying about insignificant things and ruining mine and other people’s days that I simply don’t have the energy or desire for that anymore.
I’m proud of that development. I am quite easy-going, and don’t vigorously succumb to the drama. I don’t want to hurt anybody anymore (and, obviously, do not want to be hurt myself). There is no time to waste, no need to be angry with one’s close folks.
Here is how it is: I laugh at the audience of preadolescent gals – or adolescent? Heck, let’s just say, tweens, – frenzying it up for some teenage vampires. Oh, and I don’t even know what the movie is about, and what sort of hilarity we are destined to see. And hilarious it is. Except that on the 55th minute you rapidly start swaying towards the gentlemanly Edward Cullen. Later on, one clues in that no 17- or 25-year old would ever act so nobly; it takes approximately 100 years to figure out how to treat a woman (girl in this case) right.
And yes, I remember how I used to love, love, love Anne Rice’s novels (that, last time I checked, still held the top of mind place in consumers’ minds), and vampire Lestat, and vampire Armand. I gave up on all of that. Ad then True Blood sucked me back into it. And so did the Lancome Piha Black lipgloss over their red lipstick a la Louboutin sole of a shoe.
And then this Twilight thing came out. I don’t mind admitting that I appreciate Robert Pattinson’s exterior, thank God for our same-agedness. If he was a tad bit younger, I would have to reconsider. All right, Edward Cullen, take me away! I am, too, a fan of Debussy’s.
PS. This review made me laugh so hard, I nearly had to rush to the washroom. Bagels, doom, and proletarian demands. I say, get them while they’re young!
I love The Economist. I love their advertising. BBDO forever!
Look at this smart way of getting their message across:
I simply can’t get enough. These pizza boxes with world food distributions stats appeared in 20 Philadelphia-area pizza shops. They are strategically located around universities and colleges, showing how students’ food consumption affects the rest of the world, and how The Economist is relevant to their lifestyle.
If I wasn’t hooked already, I’d go out and buy an issue immediately.
My fellow pack member Bugs Tomato celebrated his third birthday on November 14, 2008. I always forget that he is a Scorpio, for he is really jealous, emotional and feisty. He loves me more than anybody else, which makes us the cutest pair at the airport (no other creature is as happy at the arrivals as he is when I come out!) This studmuffin of a chihuahua can’t stand any of my male friends/suitors – he is ready to pee on couches, to bark at any sudden movements, and to sit on my lap and lick my face, contemptuously staring down the male next to me.
He is also incredibly smart, knows about a dozen of commands, and knows the names of all the family members. He is a bilingual dog with a penchant for food-related words like kurochka (Russian for chicken).
Check out his flickr set. This is him at the tender age of 4 months, back in 2006:
As you may know, Yankelovich came up with a MindBase psychographic segmentation scheme.
I found the test online, and lo and behold, this time around I knew the answer before I finished the questionnaire. DUH.
But I wanted to say some other things in this post, besides the result (which I think is highly dependent on age, even though I don’t plan to shut down my power generating facilities for at least another 43 years)
I am Expressive
my motto is Carpe Diem
I live life to the fullest and I’m not afraid to express my personality. I’m active and engaged and I embody a true “live in the now” attitude with a firm belief that the future is limitless and that I can be or do anything I put my mind to.
“One hot spring, the devil arrives in Moscow, accompanied by a retinue that includes a beautiful naked witch and an immense talking black cat with a fondness for chess and vodka. The visitors quickly wreak havoc in a city that refuses to believe in either God or Satan. But they also bring peace to two unhappy Muscovites: one is the Master, a writer pilloried for daring to write a novel about Christ and Pontius Pilate; the other is Margarita, who loves the Master so deeply that she is willing literally to go to hell for him. What ensues is a novel of inexhaustible energy, humor, and philosophical depth.
The novel’’s vision of Soviet life in the 1930s is so ferociously accurate that it could not be published during its author’’s lifetime and appeared only in a censored edition in the 1960s. Its truths are so enduring that its language has become part of the common Russian speech.”
Oh Gosh, in episode 7 of the season 1 Roger pours vodka into a glass of white calcium-rich liquid as he tells his wife (via phone): “Mona, I am drinking my milk.”
My professor Marla Spergel suggested I watch to get a faint/not so faint idea of what the advertising world is about. The award-winning series Mad Men (from the producers of The Sopranos) certainly caught my eye. Besides the constant smoking, gorgeous costumes and notable script, the show’s wit and solid character development make it a worthwhile show to watch. I’ve been streaming episodes from the first season; have no idea what happens in the second yet.
I won’t write at length what my opinions are on the “original” idea of the advertising agency, but I certainly am glad that things have changed. Thank God for the advertising standards and self-regulation in the industry as a whole. I don’t know how I would feel joining the ad force in the 60s, but I am certainly optimistic about what I can bring into that world once I graduate (very soon). It ain’t as bad as you think it is. Just look back to compare.
Oh, the Halloween Simpsons episode featured a Mad Men parody. Homer killed off celebrities so ad men could features ze celebrities in their advertisements. Watch the parody opening credits here.
PS. And the original opening credits, which are quite attractive:
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