So, blahblahblah we took a freakishly long break. We’re back now. For good. We think. Etc.


Laura totally outed me in the last post and I hate her guts now.

I turn 30 in exactly 33 days. On the 14th of April I will cross the all important, though admittedly probably imaginary threshold into irrelevancy. Once you turn 30 you can no longer be taken seriously as ‘youthful.’ You are a legitimate grown ass person. Even if your job sucks and you’re not married and have no kids. You may not fully understand your credit card statements or how to do your taxes, but none of this matters. Hippies don’t trust you any more, and you are old.

Top 40 radio stations don’t cater to you. You can’t shop in Forever21 or Dynamite or buy super trendy, shoddily made accessories at Claire’s or Ardene. You’re only really allowed to go to an animated movie if you’re with an actual ‘youth’, unless of course you desire to be thought of as a creep. You can maybe still go to the cool bar, depending on the city you’re in. But you can be sure you’ll have to compete with youthful young ladies. In those trendy dresses with the sheer décolletage. Sure sure, if you were 29 it would be no big deal. We’re all in our twenties after all. But in 33 days? Well, in 33 day’s I’ll be 30. I’m pretty sure that when I wake up in 33 days (which by the way is also historically a very bad day:Lincoln was assassinated, Titanic hit the iceberg, and my grandfather fucking died on my 16th birthday) I will have brand new old person laugh lines, and a bunion, and probably a bad shoulder from an old football injury or whatever.

I’m joking, of course. I mean, mostly. 30 really does seem like the biggest numerical transition since I moved into double digits. The differences between 10 and 20 are so wildly obvious, it’s silly to even compare them. But moving from our twenties into thirties feels different. The twenties are this weird hybrid decade where you’re still really just a kid, at least for the first few years. You’re supposedly setting yourself up for your thirties and beyond. You stay out too late, don’t get hangovers, have no fear and you believe in the power of things. Things like positivity, and yoga and the healing properties of cookie dough ice cream. You also have more energy than any human person should. You go to class, you volunteer, you apply for all the jobs, you party. Everything is a possibility. And now as I inch closer to 30 (33 days), those things do seem, sadly I think, a little less a part of who I am. I do get hangovers, I don’t have boundless energy, I do feel limited. Worst of all I’ve realised cookie dough is a cruel joke played by the universe to make us both joyful and fat. What a drag, right? God. Sorry.

But wait! Don’t slit your wrists in a warm bath tub just yet!

In the last few months, as I’ve watched the 30th anniversary of my birth approach, I’ve thought a lot about what 30 might mean. But, I’ve realised that being 20 is also not that great. Everything may have been a possibility, but it was also terrifying. I didn’t go away to University, because I was too scared. I didn’t break up with my shitty boyfriend (two shitty boyfriends, actually) because I was too scared. Even more recently, I haven’t applied for or really chased a lot of opportunities, because I was too scared. Ten years later I’d hardly call myself brave, but I can pick up the phone to order a pizza or book a hotel room without literally writing out a script before hand.

There are a lot of benefits of being a little older. I don’t have to go to class any more. Honestly, I always really liked school. The academic atmosphere makes me feel special and a part of something important.You know what I don’t like though? 8 a.m. three hour classes and trudging across campus in a blizzard because fucking UWO wouldn’t cancel a damn class. Good luck with that shit undergraduates. Now I have to go to work. I don’t get graded arbitrarily and they pay me. Weird, right?

I still believe in the power of yoga and positivity. I have however also learned the power of accepting when things are shitty and telling someone to go to hell if I need to. Also, I will never be able to do crane pose. Them’s the breaks.

A lot of bad ass people get started in their thirties. Martha Stewart didn’t begin her career as the best person in the world at literally everything until her 30’s. Oprah got her own show at 30. My very own father started his business in his 30’s and more than two decades later is happier than ever. I myself plan to move out of my parents basement very soon. So, there is that.

Plus, total babes like Mila Kunis, Charlize Theron, Jessica Chastain and our own icon of wonder Duchess Kate don’t show outward sings of their impending laugh lines, bunions or sporting injuries, right? You can still be figureing your shit out at 30. Pretty much everyone is. Even the weirdos who do understand their credit card statements are struggling somehow, I know it. Most importantly though, you don’t magically turn into a disgusting old crone-pumpkin at the stroke if midnight either.

The bottom line: I’m feeling conflicted about Thirty. But I think I’ll be ok.

Look, I’ll let you know in 33 days. If you don’t hear from me, I guess you can find me in that warm tub we talked about.


84th Academy Awards: Our Best Dressed

Did you notice that the Oscars were on last night? We’ve been thinking about it all day, kids, and our conclusion is a resounding ‘meh’ and ‘oh, ok’. The red carpet coverage was lacking on all fronts. ABC essentially refused to show famous people, and the last hour of E! was still shots of people who were still on the carpet. It seems Seacrest was too shook up from his run-in with The Dictator and Kim Jong-Il to continue live interviews. What the hell?

Billy Crystal was, well, Billy Crystal. He wasn’t exactly controversial or cutting edge, which we don’t necessarily need from an Oscars host. But sometimes it seemed as though we were watching the Oscars in 1994. Next year lets get Whoopi Goldberg to host, for old times sake!

The best moment of the night was seeing that Nick Nolte (who was nominated apparently!) has turned into Kenny Rodgers. Seriously. Google Kenny Rodgers then Google Nick Nolte. They’re now the same person.

This overwhelming mediocrity didn’t end with the fashions either,sadly. The Oscars red carpet is supposed to be the absolutely most glamorous place on the planet ever. Instead last night we got a lot of 80’s prom dress, wilted chiffon and boring basics. Boo to you slacking Hollywood stylists and starlets! Let’s step it up for the 85th broadcast.

Take a look at our top five favourite gowns:

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All images courtesy of

Who were your picks for best dressed?

Is It Just Us…

Or was ‘kinda bridal-y’ a trend at the Globes on Sunday?

It could be that there was so much white/nude/cream on the red carpet that it started to feel like a bridal fashion show, or maybe the fact that both Steph and I really love a wedding and most especially a wedding gown. Whatever the reason, we feel like we got a peek at what some of  Hollywood’s hottest ladies might look like if they were headed down the aisle this year. For some of them it was a roaring success (Julie Bowen), and for some of them, well, hopefully they get it right on the real big day (we’re looking at you Jessica Biel).

Come with us, won’t you, to the most fabulous episode of Celebrity Say Yes to the Dress ever (Yes, we know that’s not a real thing, but I think the real question here is: why isn’t it? TLC, get on that. I won’t even ask for credit. Getting to watch Britney Spears and J.Lo pick out their dresses will be reward enough)

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