I made this home-job pizza prop for two karaoke videos I made in 2007. Still kickin’ it around my apartment! The jerks at the buck slice even charged me two bones for the box (which is, ironically, pricier than the edible cardboard they serve).

Oh hey look, it’s the only medal I’ve ever won in my life. It wasn’t from soccer, or highland dancing or whatever other activities my friends participated in that consequently allowed them to cover their shelves with trophies; nope, this baby was from a grade 11 highschool math competition.

That’s right, I beat the fuck out of all the other honours math students to win this coveted Fermat award, so fuck you. I was also excited because I wasn’t given the medal until the end of the school year during the school award ceremony, and just to prove to the general parental population that a non-stereotypical female could be intelligent, I dyed my hair blue for the occasion.

(Oh wow, I just looked at the photo from that night and painfully apparent is my love for Gwen Stefani bindhi dots and also my inablity to have hit puberty by the age of 16. Yeeeikes.)

Riddle me this, oh gods of condiment: why the fuck do I have three (3) different kinds of mustard in my refrigerator if I don’t even like mustard.

I have had this lamp for at least seven years when I happened to pick it up during a particularly childhood-nostalgia-fueled trip to the local thrift. It had a yellow light bulb, but no shade. I never plugged it in due to this lack of shade, and after never having bought a shade, I generally have no fucking clue as to why I still have it. ebay, I guess? It’s probably the reason for a lot of “Maybe someday I’ll make money off this…?” internalized hanging questions.

I started collecting these at the grand age of 14 when my dad’s friend gave my mom a four-leaf clover that he had plucked from our property; apparently, the guy found them all the time. If it was so easy that an alcoholic Hungarian could do it while seeing double, I decided that I, too, must be able to accomplish the same feat. After a few days of laying in the grass I had trained my eyes to find the fours among the threes, and I am happy to say that my luck has been better ever since: fifty-one clovers worth, to be exact.

To be precise, I actually have only 48 four-leaf clovers, but also three five-leaf ones. PLUS, I have given away three in my lifetime to deserving friends, bringing the total found by my keen eyes to 54. I also own one on a little pocket calendar that my friend brought me from Germany… so technically I have 52 lucky clovers in my possession (assuming a five-leaf clover is also lucky), 51 of which I have found. Plus, they hail from all over the world! Sort of. I found most of them in BC and one in Germany this September… and some are from Ontario, wahooey.

So, one day I found this book entitled “Garden Magic” at a local Russian church bazaar. I bought it because I enjoyed the detailed illustrations inside, but after flipping through and finding a FOUR-LEAF CLOVER INSIDE (!) under Hedges (and I LOVE hedges!), I saw it as a sign to keep my collection tightly locked between its loose pages. I guess that means I have 53 clovers in total now. Sheesh.

I’m also quite surprised that I haven’t fucked up all this math, as I just discovered I can drink whiskey again without getting sick, just in time for the loneliest holidays of my pathetically boring life. Damn I’m a lucky bastard! Oh wait, I’m not; I merely bought the 375ml bottle, fuck.

I got these three embroidered handkerchiefs at a garage sale off Commercial drive around the summer of 2005 for $4. They came folded, brand new, in this paper box with a plastic dust cover for display purposes to protect the delicate stitching. A golden sticker on the back says “Fine Lawn; Loom Master; Made in Switzerland”.

Close ups! Aww, look at the puppies! I am ashamed to say that I have never used these handkerchiefs and all three just sit in my room in the box. I sometimes think about using them, but then I can’t figure out how I would do it. Hanging out of the back pocket of my jeans? Then what if it got dirty? Fell out?! I could never forgive myself!

The box itself might even be the most beautiful part. It’s striped in teal and debossed with a gold diamond pattern… gorgeous! And I’m still never going to use these damn things… and I’m never going to give them away. If only the dogs were embroidered in the opposite direction and then I could throw them in a lapel pocket and not just hoarde them in the shady confines of my gloomy room… God, I’m a real asshole. (But at least I’m an asshole with fucking awesome hankerchiefs.) 

Last fall, my car was dying everyday and I needed a new battery. My dad gives me this wad of money and says, Here, buy yourself one. Clearly I never bought the battery because HOW THE HELL COULD I EVER GET RID OF THIS AMAZINGLY INSANE COLLECTION OF BILLS?!?

The original amount totalled $38.80. After adding my own stray bills, I now have exactly $41.65 in cold, hard, car-part redeemable cash. 32 x 5¢, 33 x 10¢, 19 x 25¢, 20 x 50¢, 18 x $1 and 2 x $2. I feel like I should be the ambassador of traditional Canadian rewards programs. I also am amazed that my father has spent $3,880 there over the course of God knows how long. Probably a few years, at least. Well, hopefully the bills will make prop appearances in short films before I spend all of it at the bar in Victoria that accepts it at face value (which obviously will never happen because I could not bear to part with more than a buck).

These HIGHLY collectable babies (no, guys, stop asking; I’m not selling) were dispersed in Canadian Kellogs cereal boxes during the summer of 2002 to capitalize on the release of Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones. I was working at a lodge in a remote town at the time, and these compact brainteasers were a more-than-welcome distraction. Once I got one, however, I went on a rampage to collect all six; I was an addict, and sunk to the depths of stealing some from boxes in the cereal isle on grocery runs. It wasn’t a time in my life that I was proud of, and I’m now sorry, Superstore, I’m sorry. In the end I only had four different ones, and perhaps that fact remains as my insufferable penance.

Anyhow, look how FUN and EXCITING these things are! Each one has four pieces that rotate and make up two faces on each head: from left to right, Count Dooku/Darth Sidious, Obi-Wan Kenobi (young/old), Jango Fett/Clone Trooper and Anakin Skywalker/Darth Vader (I actually had doubles of this). The two I’m missing are of Princess Leia/Padme Amidala and R2-D2/C-3PO (which I REALLY wanted). I memorized how to solve them from the little cheat sheet they came with and when I was back in school I used to sit in the back of class, getting my friends to mess them up so I could fix them. I’m a fidgeter, so it was a perfect toy to have around.

Right now they’re just sitting on my shelf collecting dust. A really fun thing to do with them though, is pretend they’re making out. You can even switch their heads around so that one side of each head has two noses and mouths and do a double make out (Pietro, you’re a genius!).

Fun fact: Rubik was Hungarian, and so am I!

I bought these cacti from a rummage sale at the Russian People’s Home in my neighbourhood in the summmer of 2005, primarily for their small but extravagant growing aesthetics. They were decoration for an art exhibition for about six weeks and then took up permanent residence in my home. They had a tiny cutout of a lady keeping them company for a while, too.

Oh God, I just remembered I dreamt that I had cancer last night.

Underneath my coats is a big box of my shoes. This is in addition to the other shoes of mine that are in my room and still more that are in our hallway. Heels, flats, runners, rubber boots, sandals… I got it all. Unfortunately, many of these shoes never get worn because they are too small and thusly not worth my patience or pain standing. So I figured, why not finally weed through this bloody collection?

So I laid out all my shoes side by side and not only were there 44.5 pairs (one is missing it’s mate and I love it too much to toss it) but they actually reached from my bedroom door all the way down the hall to the kitchen, and then some. Jesus! (This photo is showing about half the distance from the kitchen to my room.)

So I laid out all my shoes side by side and not only were there 44.5 pairs (one is missing it’s mate and I love it too much to toss it) but they actually reached from my bedroom door all the way down the hall to the kitchen, and then some. Jesus! (This photo is showing about half the distance from the kitchen to my room.)

So then what happened? I whittled it down to about 28 pairs, consigned some and gave away the ugly ones, which left me with a lot more room in my conscience to go out and get more. I’m probably up to the mid-thirties again, but at least they’re all nice and pretty and wearable. And I get all my shoes second-hand so it’s not like I should feel guilty about spending money or anything. Shoes are important. And so is looking good. In your shoes. Yes.