this march’s latest hobo chic

If you’re in Vancouver right now, you know how ass-bitingly cold it is at the moment. And I don’t mean the normal Canadian cold, I mean “-8 and we start panicking and lining the walls of bedrooms with extra blankets because this is Vancouver and we are wusses” cold.

But still myself and Dr. Roommate & Friends persist in our nightly jogs through the graveyard.

But we bundle up because, you know, we’re not stupid.

Last night, I kind of half-assed it, because… well, Vancouverites, especially myself, are not your average Canadians.*

We can only try really, really hard to look the part.

I wore a touque that kind of looked like this, only with giant maple leafs everywhere:


Ears = warm and stylish



Unfortunately, I had lost my snowman-adorned, mother-purchased mittens earlier that day, so my little handsies were tucked into the sweatshirt.

This was truly a shame, as the mittens would have taken the attention away from my strikingly fashionable Vancouver Canucks pajama pants sweatpants. Before we ventured out, I actually ran them by the jogging commitee to see if they could indeed pass as sweatpants.

I was told by Dr. Roommate: “They look fine, but I’ll know.”

Where were my actual sweatpants, you may ask?

Now I could make up some story involving earthquakes and zombie plagues and cougar attacks and ninja-star-wielding hitmen whose powers combined somehow prevented me from doing my laundry, but the truth is… I simply don’t know what happened to my sweatpants.

Anyway, to make it worse, it was really, really cold and I was getting that irritating little breeze blowing up the cuffs of the pajama sweatpants.

So I did what any rational person would do.

I tucked them into my socks.

It looked amazing, kinda like this awesome person:


How many puns can you think if involving "sock"? My favourite: Sock me, Amadeus.



I’m not really sure what elaborate conclusion one can draw from this other than to serve as a future footnote on my psych ward application. Perhaps I was rocking the fur trapper look? A little courer de bois for the 21st century?

However, there was the possibility that I might have looked kind of drunk. Thus, with the overabundance of maple leafs on my ensemble, one could assume I was simply celebrating the Olympic anniversary.


No. I think I’d rather go with “Hobo.”
*I’ve never skiied; I remember nearly killing someone the only time I tried snowboarding (and then spent the rest of the day drinking hot chocolate in the lodge); and I went snowshoeing once in Girl Guides. I remember badly needing to pee the entire time.

ugh, snow again

Ugh, I feel like a Scrooge. Except my Scrooge won’t exist in some winterland nightmare; my Scrooge is relaxing either a) poolside anywhere, b) at a backyard barbeque wearing the most stylish pair of tartan shorts known to humankind, or c) anywhere but in Surrey circa January/February (aka, peak suicide time). I hate the snow. It’s beautiful, I know, but so is Tyra Banks and would you want to deal with her for four months at a time? Yeah, me neither.

I’m sitting at work, waiting for a ride, and work has that eerie after-hours buzz, like how you’d imagine the deserted streets of New York would be post-apocalypse. I look like a loser sitting here. Good thing no one is here to see me. I’m reminded of some adage about a tree doing something in the woods. Doing what? Probably updating its blog.