Glam Bam Thank You M’am

Posted on by
5

Some weeks I feel like a sophisticated lady, all fancy and stuff.
This has been one of them for sure.

I received my photos from the shoot I did with the undeniably adorable and talented Andrea Hausmann at the end of January.

Some of them are cute and the others show the true colours of my inner-Italian-Cougar/MILF. They are cheese-o-rific and I’m loving them.

This Saturday night I sang in a brilliant Burlesque Show at Café Campus. If you were one of the beautiful faces that were at the show, I love you and I thank you forever and always for being such a sweet and inspiring audience.

If you couldn’t make it out but wanted to, you’re in luck because here is a repeat show this coming Saturday, the 18th of February.

A little Glimpse of backstage:




With Cherry Typhoon

Everyone who performed was honestly brilliant and, as always, it was an honour to share the stage with such a talented and beautiful bunch.

The show was over early enough that I was home and tucked into bed with the kitties and a bar of salted dark chocolate (no I didn’t eat the whole thing… I saved half for tonight) in time to watch Saturday Night Live.

At 6 o’clock in the freegn’ morning. I was rudely awakened by Boots/Gus/BowTie/Whose-Cat-Is-That when he suddenly (and quite loudly) decided that he was dying of thirst.

After fresh water was poured and passive-aggressive words were shared, I made myself a soy latte, unpacked my costume, threw a load of laundry in the wash and cleaned the house.

I worked on a couple of top secret songs for a couple of top secret acts I have planned for this spring/summer.

And then had a nice looooooooong soak in the tub, gave myself a mani-pedi and opened a bottle of wine.

I HUGELY appreciated both the *gesture and the deliciousness of the ultra-gourmet Veggie-Chicken burger, all-dressed, with fried mushrooms, that Cloee (Thing 3) Cheffed-up for us tonight.

“We’re celebrating, Mommy, for your last supper”

“Sweetie, it’s not my LAST supper. I’m only fasting for a day and a half”

Because apparently there is such thing as too much glamour.

Because at the crack of dawn tomorrow morning – Which would be this morning that you are reading this – I begin fasting, in preparation for the very sexy Valentine’s Day plans I have.

That’s right, this year, for Valentine’s Day, I will be doing something I have never ever in my life done.

*Yup, On February 14th, 2012, I plan to have the fanciest, most glamorous and sexiest colonoscopy anyone has ever had.

“Valentine’s Day? Seriously? You totally planned this on purpose didn’t you?” Accused Alicia. “Seriously, who did you pay to hook this up?”

I wish I could take credit for this beauty but in all honesty…

That’s. Just. My. Luck.

Don’t worry, I’ll keep you guys intimately posted, every step of the way.

You’re welcome.

But for tonight, I have the Grammy’s, a glass of Barefoot and half a bar of chocolate calling me.

xx

Jennifer June

Not in front of the Lobsters

Posted on by
3

Other Jen and I, out for coffee Sunday afternoon – discussing the three most important issues in the world: Our own financial woe, how young is too young to kick your children to the curb, and the curious behaviour of our sad rich friends who try to fill the emptiness they feel deep inside by buying ugly art, luxury SUVs, thousand dollar dresses that they’ll never take the tags off let alone wear, Holt Renfrew onesies for their infant children to poop on 3 or 4 times before growing out of them, and cloned designer dogs and what-have-you….

Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for retail therapy from time to time but flushing thousands of dollars a day -in a desperate attempt at self-validation and/or gaining the approval of other people with money – turns my stomach and my brain at the same time.

But that’s not what what this post is about.

This post is about the menu of Other Jen’s other friend’s surprise birthday supper.

Other Jen: We’re having a bean dish, cream of wild mushroom soup, lobster spaghetti, crepes and quail stuffed with foie gras, wrapped in bacon.

Me: Wow. Sounds revolting. And unethical. And glutenous. And gross.

Other Jen: Yeah, pretty much the only thing missing is veal. Or veal cheek. Quail stuffed with foie gras, wrapped in bacon enveloped in a prosciutto made of veal cheek from a specially chosen veal that is only used for one cheek and the rest of the veal gets thrown out.

Me: Right, so you know that your cheek is one of a kind and that nobody else on earth is eating veal with the same DNA as yours.

Other Jen: Exactly.

Me: You know what might be a nice touch? Drizzling the quail with a sauce made with the fertilized but unborn fetuses of each of the quail you’re eating. Hmm?

Other Jen: I need more coffee. Are you coming with me to the market? I have to buy ingredients for the soup and the Lobster spaghetti.

We bought hazelnut oil and wild mushrooms which was both exciting and inspiring.

Jen bought about 67 gallons of cooking cream while shielding my virgin vegan eyes. I said Don’t Look!

We bought fresh pasta from a little Italian shop and ogled the portobello stuffed pasta pinwheels. I’ll be going back for those…

We went to the bakery for fresh baked bread.

We went to the butcher to buy bacon.

Other Jen: Is this okay for you? Are you okay or…

Me: Hmm? No, I’m… I’m good.

As I pet the glass counter with my mitten, whispering to the veal chuck. There there, it will be over soon.

Other Jen: Oh gawd. Are those entire cow carcasses? I’m so sorry. Ew.. I can’t even..

At which exact point the butcher turns on the radial arm saw and starts dismembering.

Me: You know what? I’m going to head downstairs. I saw some micro bok Choy and…. that’s where I’ll be if you need me.

Other Jen: Don’t leave me here!!

I bought the baby bok Choy, and some new purple potatoes and these tiny yellow squash and just as I reached the cash Jen lunged violently in front of me with her wallet open.

Other Jen: I need to buy these for you.

Me: Jen it’s fine, I’ve got… (she body checks me out of the way) okay then. Thank you.
Across from the produce stand is a Greek shop. Here! Pita bread! Didn’t you say you were out of Pita bread?

Me: Jen..no.

Other Jen: We’ll have two bags of pita bread please.

Me: Jen, buying my groceries will neither obsolve you of your guilt, nor fill that empty hole in your life.

Other Jen: Sure it will.

Clerk: Do you need a bag?

Other Jen: yes

Me: No (defiantly)

Other Jen: She hates me because I’m wasting plastic, which is why she gets to carry all the groceries in her arms.

And then for the last ingredient on our list… Lobster.

So there was no frozen already-dead lobster still in its’ shell, which wasn’t going to work because apparently you can’t make lobster spaghetti without making the saucy-goodness with the shell and claws, which I understand completely but am still entirely grossed out by. SO!

Jen decides to buy live lobsters. 3 of them.

Other Jen: Do you hate me?

Me: You’re putting them in the trunk right?

Other Jen: Er… the trunk doesn’t exactly open…

Me: Your guys in the back seat aren’t really moving around much. Is that normal?

Other Jen: The fish monger said I should leave the bag open so they can breathe so…

Me: Maybe you should keep their heads out of the pot while you boil them to death too, you know, so they can breathe…

Other Jen: YOU are NOT allowed to talk anymore.

Me: Hey guys! Are you okay back there? Everyone comfortable and getting enought to breathe or…?

Other Jen: Shut up!

Me: Shhh… Jen, not in front of the Lobsters.

Which is pretty much when she left me at the curb in front of my house.

Jennifer June

One Night In Beijing

Posted on by
3

Last night I dreamed that I went to school or work in a giant building that I didn’t recognize, somewhere that I know absolutely no one. Mandatory uniform White shirt, blue skirt/slacks.

I was working away on something terribly important yet entirely nondescript when I realized that I really REALLY missed my boyfriend, who, in this dream, was a young Chinese man. I don’t know what his name was but he was sweet and innocent like and the language barrier between us was simultaneously unbearable and adorable.

We were mismatched I suppose, what with us having nothing in common and with me not speaking Mandarin or Cantonese – What with he being nice and me having a rather sordid past – What he being nice… and so-on.

I missed him so very much in my dream that I left my station and went running down the hall to find him. He was on his way up the stairs to find me.

“You never find me!” he said joyfully in his adorable Chinese accent.

It was true, I realized, I never made any effort to see him.

“I miss you so much” I cried, throwing my arms around him and took a deep breath as I sunk into him.

“I have to go to my children” He tells me.

*insert the loud sound of a record scratch here*

He leads me through a heavy dark curtain, on the other side of which is a giant flea market. And his two children.

One is under a year old, the other about 2 1/2.

“May I meet them?” I ask “or is it too rude?” (I think I meant to say soon, not rude. I’m not sure.)

Boyfriend doesn’t answer me so I scoop up the baby in my arms and follow the other two through isles of trinkets and bootleg DVDs.

It only takes a moment before I realize that we are actually in China.

Fortunately, in my dream, I wasn’t lucid enough to feel shame over having envisioned the country as a glorified dollar store.

Also, I neglect to wonder if these children have a mother.

Oh.. I hear everything is much cheaper in China – I should shop.

So out the window went all my values about environmental awareness and slave labour as I chose a six pack of Kleenex, some place mats that I really have seen at dollarama (I’m telling you, my dream self is an ass-hole) and a bag of 12 rolls of leopard spotted dog poop bags.

I don’t have a dog… anymore.

Nothing here is cheaper

I fondled an ugly mass produced $134.00 desk lamp.

I continued to browse, baby on my hip, bag of useless crap in my hand, when I realized that I would have to take the plane back to Canada.

Where will I put all this stuff? No. I can’t bring all of this on the plane, it will never fit in my carry-on luggage. I have to choose only one thing.

So, naturally, I chose the dog poop bags.

And then I woke up. To a text. From my real boyfriend.

Plane cancelled. Toulouse. Snow. Have to take train 7 hours to Nantes. Neeeeed sleep. I’m going to cry.

I’m just saying…

Jennifer June

Downward Facing 3 Legged Dog

Posted on by
1

So… according to the doctor I was supposed to have an all new lease on life today in the form of full arm/shoulder mobility.

He also told me that throughout the day yesterday I would feel the sensation of my shoulder distending.

Neither of these things happened.

Does this mean the procedure didn’t work?

Am I destined to live one-armedly for the rest of my life?

Should I learn to pick my guitar with my teeth?

Will yoga forever mean lopsided mountain pose and downward facing 3 legged dog?

I don’t know. I’m just going to continue on my path of self-healing and hope for the best.

I have to resist the urge to fight what my body is doing and instead nurture and influence it.

I’m trying to do this with my kids too and boy is it hard. It would just be so much easier if we were allowed to duck tape their mouths shut and lock them in the basement, like in the good old days.

But instead I breathe. And plug away, searching for my inner wisdom. Searching for peace and acceptance.

I go to Joanne’s site for inspiration daily. Such wisdom and calm.

And at the same time, trying to create balance. Allowing myself to feel and express those feelings safely.

Feelings.

I have a lot of those lately. My tears are just under the surface at all times. Ready to be called to duty at a moment’s notice, at the slightest provocation, at the sight of an insect, at the sound of a baby’s laughter, at somebody elses excitement over a stinking filthy Choloepus …

A friend posted this on facebook yesterday. I watched it 5 times and cried each and every time. I say it’s because I’m broken. Both Franky and my oldest daughter, Jules, say it’s because Kirsten is me. Which, in this case, I believe is a good thing.

Jennifer June