Over the last few weeks while I was recovering from dying, I watched the whole two seasons of Breaking Bad at an award-winning pace. This is pretty much the EKG machine pattern of me watching it: “OookayyesyesNONONONONONONONONONOnonoOkayYESYESYESokayit’sgoingtobeokay
OHGODNONONOOOOOOOOOOOO.” Seriously, not since The Wire and their blink-and-you-missed-it murders of your favourite characters, have I been this STRESSED and INVOLVED in lives of characters I have nothing in common with, but everything invested in. Bryan Cranston’s Walt White has garnered him two well-deserved Emmy’s and Aaron Paul’s wardrobe alone should have earned some award. The oversized, ridiculously-patterned, word-up-homies hoodies, toques, jeans and t-shirts, worn in Albuquerque for Chrissakes’s, are just the perfect wrapping on this multi-layered character done so well. Other than the leads, my absolute favourite character is Bob Odenkirk’s lawyer Saul Goodman, introduced in the second season. He provided a great greasy comic relief and might have been better here than in Mr. Show, and that’s saying LOTS. The third season starts in March so you have time to catch up on the first two seasons. You should do it NOW.
I got this little pack of pretty, sticky, baby nail polish goodness in my stocking this year. The colours – dark and dangerous. The ease of application – a little complex because of a temperamental brush, and my left hand being about as functional and useful as a seal flipper. So, having both hands painted with nary a spill or cuticle glop was pretty amazing, until I banged a few wet fingers on the underside of Nuv’s desk causing a smeary sulky “SHIT!” -athon, and that became the worst thing I touched this week.
Bath & Body Works finally has a location in my neck of the woods, aka Canada. Thank the Good Lord above. At present count I have 28 products of theirs in the bathroom, 14 of those body washes and their accompanying smell body lotions. LOVES IT. Vanilla Bean Noel, a scent that to my grand chagrin, is only released at Christmas time, is my absolute dead-on favourite. It is hard to describe – a light fresher vanilla smell that makes you better, is as close as I can get. I got a hand soap & hand lotion duo in a caddy for Christmas and just cracked them open by the bathroom sink. This was hard to do. Our bathroom sees more traffic than Times Square so this delicious bounty won’t last long, but I think by sharing it, karma will one day place a B & BW location in my apartment lobby. Right? RIGHT.
Back in April 2008, I found a new flavour of Skittles in a slinky black package and had this to say,
“The elusive black packaged limited edition Skittles. I haven’t been able to eat red licorice in 13 years. It doesn’t fucking matter though because chilling beside ‘Cotton Candy’ (EXACT!) and ‘Bubble Gum’ (EXACTIER!) is Red Licorice (EXACTEST!). Hot damn. I have found the last vestiges of the secret batch at the most random of corner stores & Indian pharmacies around town. And that’s as specific as I’ll get. Back off.”
My friend Hamilton tracked down and bought a couple of packs after that piqued his curiosity and he was rad enough to save me a pack, in his desk at work, that he always forgot to bring over. Guess what I got yesterday?! So to be fair, it’s not the best thing I tasted this week because I actually haven’t cracked them open, but rather erected a shrine to them complete with many flickering candles and religious statues, but I HAVE THEM. They are mine. And one day soon they will be in my mouth and tummy, where all good things belong.
Well, this was a heartbreaker. Jay Reatard, the guy who singlehandedly brought me back around to punk rock after my twenties faded in the rear view mirror, died on Wednesday. He was 29. I sat at my work computer after reading the news on ew.com of all places and just felt so profoundly sad. However this happened, the kid was all kinds of talented, and single minded on just playing and making the music he loved all over the place. He was with me here, here, here and here, and most recently, I wrote here that his show last year was one of the highlights of my 2009. It is such a shame that I, and everybody else who likes their music fast and tight, will never get to see him live again. So, the only way to turn the worst thing I heard this week into something better was to play the shit out of his albums – he left behind 22 full length albums and over 200 releases as per his website, so I’ll have those, and my most favourite concert t-shirt with a hole in the left armpit, to keep me warm through this especially cold January.
