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New favourite Tuesday night activity: solving Law & Order episodes within the first 23 minutes and then regaling Juelz with tales of my lawyerly prowess.

There has to be a way to make my mermaid-mane even bigger, and I won't rest until I've found it.

"at night, we're like a tiny circus...it's all laughter and pie and jokes." Casablanca Swar

Saturday night, inventing games again. Hardcore lyrics charades, sure-fire winner for our game empire. Continuing our massive relationship feud: Nickelback is Way Hard vs. Nickelback Sounds Like Mid-2000s Metallica At Best.

It seems only fitting that a list like this is what officially introduced us, and so is included several years later, tucked safely into a birthday card that I'm sure won't survive the night.

"Switch shirts with a stranger".

That specification is deliberate, old bud. Good luck, godspeed.

Friday afternoon, patio brunch double date, little laundry, batting practice and having a little catch. Now, apple cider and welcoming back my Californian hippie darling.

Recipes with Chelsea: The Laziest Recipes of Them All

I couldn't sleep last night (do you know how stressful it is to be able to do anything you want? I am losing my mind with all this freedom), so I made fruit tacos.

I GUESS technically they are turnovers, but doesn't fruit taco sound more enticing? I swear it made them taste better, too.

If you would like to make your own, here's what you do:

Make pie dough (vegan, but then cheat and add an egg yolk) from scratch. Use your grandma's recipe.

Take all of the berries, mash them together, dump in two baby handfuls (one regular person's handful) of flour and one of raw sugar. Mix.

Grab a wine bottle or the most evenly rounded pint glass you can find, and roll that pie dough out. Become aware that you do not have any cookie cutters because they're still packed up in god knows which box, use the lid from the coffee grounds container to cut the dough into circles.


Place the circles on a baking sheet, fill them with berry mixture, pinch them sides together like you're rolling a soft taco, and put in your 400 degree oven for about 20 minutes. Remember to check on them as soon as you think to yourself "holy mahn does my apartment smell like amazing berries right now".

Put some vanilla coconut milk ice cream on that bad boy and go to town.

A query

Why does packet ketchup taste so much better than regular ketchup? Deadly serious.

"I don't look at clocks anymore...it's very liberating."

I've been fumbling with your heart strings, and that's good enough for me

"party tip: we're never going to be as young as we are right now." Commence either panic or bathing suit-outfitted hilarity.

Re-reading Histoire d'O, appreciating its history more so than the story itself, some things never change.

every morning.

BADNOBAD

"when you tickle me, it's just like...emotions".

You can't crown yourself in thorns, heart forever broken by the tragic beauty of your intellect. Artistic and aloof, emotionally dire and out of control. Teacups to hold your change, a novel nod to former
civilization, to secrets and skeletons, tucked away. But there, there.
Like the bare bones of your fleeting and indefinite dreams. And how could they amount to anything when you've condemned them, an unliftable weight. Grind the bones to dust and use silk to spin them into the quilt of your past, only be careful the company you keep under it, in your no-mans-land bed with your wounded, tired heart. Be careful who you drape and warm in the mistakes you wear like badges and bangles. You'll leave them struggling to breathe as they outrun a past which isn't theirs, blindly stepping on twigs and moss hoping to put a foot right on the ground you've laid, not knowing which log to weather the storm in, not knowing which trap will leave them strung up and out, trapped by the selfishness of your ever-present memories.

Shaking the world with my voice and grinning.

If you wish -- I'll rage on raw meat like a vandal. 
Or change into hues that the sunrise arouses. 
If you wish -- I can be irreproachably gentle. 
Not a man -- but a cloud in trousers.

lets go lets go lets go to the beach

(Only listen to this song if you're a fan of simple, easy, surfy, pop punk, or fun).

Being vegan is extraordinarily difficult when your favourite food is marble cheddar everything.

Do you know how incomplete a slice of rye and avocado is without cheese?

Thank the gods I can still have Sriracha.

There's no shortage of versions of this song, but Deaner has always been my favourite.

We got stuck in the downpour today, running from Spadina. Jumping over puddles, clinging to his hand and my bag, trying to make it home. I was no help, laughing too hard to outrun the raindrops, my hair still isn't dry.

But then home and to the cabin to watch the lightning, and capture that tiny urban waterfall.

well i'll be.

Couldn't find a more swoon-worthy image than my gooseberry of a dog gallumping over to steal this guy's attention.

PS, check out that co-family bonding in the background. Swars and Clarks, together around the BBQ.

hello, here's everything

hey, you're a statue

and you're a RIVER!

all the honey in all the land, next to all the mustard. guess where all my dollars went?

right, and then we ran into Kanye. Here's an unedited, unzoomed photo my freakishly tall sister took. They're basically best friends, based on proximity.

I'm in.

This is, actually, without hyperbole or even exaggeration, my favourite place in the world.

sneak attack photo.

HELLO LITTLE GOOSE!!! we are almost a decade apart! ISNT THAT WEIRD.

How stressed do these horses look? I mean, really.

Found an empty statue-holder, filled it with a little sis.

champagne cruise? hay, shore.

SHIT.

"Imagine if Disney did an edition of the Catacombes?"

(imagine if we did a black metal photo shoot there?)

REALLY HEAVY, YOU GUYS.

This is the cover of my sci-fi movie "Girls Within".

But then WE rode Disney's "The Catacombs" and all was fine!

Then we ran into Tyler and James, and all was hilarious and the best.

Really desperate for snuggles, cozied up to a statue.

Gettin' down with my inner (now outer) fat kid.

Pretty indicative, personality-wise.

GIVE ME ALL THE TREATS.

ALL OF THEM.

Hi, dad. 

Flower market? Are you kidding me? Do you not understand that I am the hugest girl? Do you not get that I would kill (greenery) for a fresh, green, flowery apartment every day? I buy vase after vase to house you, little darlings. I want to be enveloped in flowers.

Whatever, it's a tower, hey.

THE COOLEST GUY IN MONTMARTRE.

View, whatever.

Making dinner, not easy. Picking up fresh, day-of ingredients, considerably easier.

So, so, so stoked to finally be here. HELLO, YOURE GLORIOUS.

These are dinosaurs. You would have to be insane to mess with them.

No part of this post was concise, well-worded, or well-thought out. Enjoy at own risk, but know that your intellect would be better stimulated elsewhere.

what are you the angel of, hot dogs?

HOT DOGS????

Erica Clark, world's biggest babe.

I am le petite fromage ball.

hello, window.

oh no, this is upside down! i could correct it, or i could go back to bed.

AU REVOIR.