I don’t want to be right


First of all, I found some wide boots! I am not sure how they will fit, so I wish they were available in Winnipeg stores, but I am excited that I’ll be able to order some boots that fit, and in a variety of sizes! Check out these super helpful links to Macy’s and Zappos. Plus there’s this really great article about finding yourself some well fitted boots. So in this case, a little complaining went a long way! Thanks, facebook friends.

Now, onto the task at hand. I have any number of cool things I could talk about, but I sense that I’ve been a bit wordy and opinion-y lately. So let’s do a top 5, yeah?

There’s a lot online about being a better person and letting go of toxic relationships, patterns, etc. And I’d really love to be a better person. I can see her in my mind’s eye. She’s got impeccably tailored clothing and a shoe option for every outfit. She’s 10 minutes early, and she remembered to bring a pen. She’s cool and confident and never breaks down at the wrong moment.

But then I try to imagine what that me does for fun and I can’t, really. So let’s all take a break from the self improvement and talk about the things that, in my opinion, you should never stop doing.

1. Gossip

I definitely have friends who I make plans with specifically to talk about other people. I text the words “hot goss” and they know the score. I’m a bad influence. I’m not talking about the “She’s not even pretty! Why do guys like her!” style gossip. It’s more of an armchair psychology “we aren’t in that situation so we can see it with an objective view and feel morally superior” style dish session. Which is seeew much bettttterrrrr.

I mean the stuff that you rly rly wish you could say to somebody, but that you need to filter through one or six trusted friends first.

You’re aware that when you turn your back on them they’ll be saying the same shit about you, but doesn’t it feel good to bond with your bestie over how terribly wrong your other bestie is about something?

It’s actually pretty healing, because you feel a little better about your own stupid mistakes for a minute, and hey maybe next time you start to make a bad decision, you remember that conversation and realize you’d rather not go against your own advice.

2. Treating your body like utter crap.


I get the idea of a “lifestyle change” instead of a “diet” and committing to good habits and mlah mlah mlah. But that implies never looking back, being sensible, and always planning for those little indulgences. I get that cake is more enjoyable when you go quality and slowly enjoy a tiny piece, but you will never giggle doing that.

There is no giggle that replaces the giggle of a midnight convenience store run, where you’re ripping open 3 bags of chips and sucking down sugary drinks, and not wanting to share your jerky even though you can feel your liver failing as you eat it.

That’s what life is all about, man. That’s where all those “I don’t even remember drinking that much but-” stories come from. That’s what you bond over, in the end. Don’t deprive yourself of that.

3. Deluding Yourself

You’re all like “guys, starting monday I’m going to _____ everyday until I achieve ____! For real this time!” You know it’s an unrealistic expectation. They know it’s an unrealistic expectation (see item #1), but you’ll come around to the more sensible plan. Sensible barely gets anybody out of bed in the morning. But that dumb, pie-in-the-sky plan of yours just might.

I mean if you have like, 5 of those a day (I’ve been there) then you may want to check yourself. But without those brilliant moments of discovery, you never get to feel that feeling of “I’M GOING TO DO IT!” Where you’re already proud of accomplishing something you’ve only just pinned to your bulletin board. And without that feeling, life would be kind of boring and you’d never get that whole “shoot for the moon land among the stars” effect.

4. Hitting up on that Snooze alarm

Yes, it’s not “real sleep.” BUT- you get to KNOW YOU’RE SLEEPING. Which is a weird but great sensation. When you sleep all the way up to your alarm, you aren’t aware of the sleep that just happened, so it’s kind of a rip off. That extra few minutes of half awake cozy-dozing? Wurff it. Treat yourself.

5. Lying

Are you running late? Yes. Is it for a good reason? No. Could you easily do that favor? Yes. Are you going to? No.

Alright so, it is better to be honest. But it also sucks to get called on your shit and have to do something unpleasant. So once in a while you have to lie, not even to spare someone’s feelings, but because it’s damn satisfying to get to do your own thing and not have anyone know about it.


…I actually dig him a lot, he was just the first person I could think of who I don’t think does any of these things.

These boots are made to hurt my feelings.


I’ve never written an open letter before, but from my experience they go over super well and get the attention of all the right people, causing widespread positive results. Or maybe that was swag bags. I don’t know. But there’s a thing that’s been bothering me for several days and as a middle class cisgender white person, that’s about as long as I can go without complaining publicly. Here goes nothing.

An Open Letter to People Who Make Boots:

I love fashion. I’m not one of these people who wishes they lived in another decade. I think it’s way cool that modern styles are so versatile, adaptable to whoever you feel like channeling that day. I can dress like a pin-up girl, but I’m not obligated to an exhaustive daily routine involving various underpinnings.

In short- thanks fashion, for evolving over time and becoming less restrictive. That being said, I think there’s an issue we need to tackle here.

And I’m going to start with knee length boots.

I love them. LOVE them. They’re such an easy way to look chic, and they balance out my look when I’m wearing one of my many beloved pairs of skinny jeans.

But here’s the thing. For as long as I’ve had a body, it has been a round-shaped body. Small, but round. My dilemma is that because I have a small body, I tend to wear small shoes. Because I have a round body, I cannot for the life of me stuff my calves into most knee-high boots, especially the ones made for people with small feet, because the assumption is that small feet = small all over.

For a long time, I saw weight loss as the only option when faced with these problems. Instead of seeking out clothing solutions I would see myself as “wrong” and change my entire lifestyle for a pair of boots, or a dress, or whatever piece of “inspiration” sat unworn in my closet.

The only problem was I could never change my body type. I was always just a smaller, harder version of… well, me. I guess that sounds like a pretty common sense thing, but with all the Frankenstein-ish “get this person’s arms” or “that person’s butt” articles I’d been reading, I guess I thought I could turn into a collage of disembodied celebrities. And no matter how fucking skinny I got, I still struggled with certain zippers.

So I guess there’s a lot of money to be made by telling people that their bodies are “wrong.” Because instead of just selling a pair of boots, the big baddies get to sell books, magazines, pills, and creams.

And I’m not about to be all “REAL women have small feet and wide calves!” Because that’s horse shit. I’m sure a lot of non-fictional women fit perfectly into your clothing. I’ve seen them with my own real woman’s eyes! But like… I can’t be the only short curvy girl out there who wants to own a pair of boots that zip up.

I think it’s amazing that these days we’re stretching to accommodate the many ways a person might choose to express themselves visually. Now I’d just love a line of boots that could stretch to accommodate my legs, which aren’t freakishly disproportionate to my body, by the way. I’d like to clarify that. I mean, I can get my child sized hands around them and have my thumbs almost touch, and while I’ve been told a lot of things about my body, I’ve never been told that it wasn’t human-shaped. So really, I’m not asking for much.

If you’d like a short curvy girl to try on some of the new boots you’re no doubt starting to make RIGHT THE FUCK NOW, I’d happily oblige. Especially if we got to make a fun montage out of the entire affair. I think “You Make my Dreams Come True” is over-used, but “Every Little Thing She Does is Magic” could be a fun option? We’ll work out those details later.

~Melanie Dahling

Ok so I think that went ok. I mean I got a little self-righteous, but I think that’s a prerequisite for these kinds of things.


Mr. Jonze and me


Well, it’s almost time for the Oscars. I’d like to start off by saying that I really do love movies, and I love loving movies. It’s especially nice when I can love movies with the people I love and we can clutch at our chests and well up with tears and shit like that.

I’m not the kind of person to be like “this movie was popular, therefore I must hate it.”

That being said, I probably hate a lot of your favourite movies. I’d really love it if I didn’t hate them, but oh, I just hate them so much.

Which brings me to today’s topic. “Her.” I kept hearing about this movie and assumed from the poster that “Her” was definitely somebody Joaquin Phoenix had murdered. My friend and I decided we were going to see it without watching any trailers or anything. He kept the promise, I broke after watching a parody trailer starring Jonah Hill.

Watching the real trailer, I didn’t know how to feel. As a lover of quirky, twee, and melancholy love stories, it seemed perfect for me. But there was something about it that just felt off, like when I bought that “Hobo bag” from the GAP.

I went into the movie really, really wanting to like it. And then I just didn’t. My friend and I discussed it after and I acted like I kind of liked it, but that was more because I was still trying really hard to convince myself that I did, and we were in a McDonalds so I was feeling emotionally fragile.

Then I went home, waited for everyone to go to sleep, and looked for negative reviews online. I couldn’t find one, but I’ve met the people who don’t like Her. I’ve met them fast and dirty on lunch breaks in corner booths, and we’ve talked in hushed tones, and I don’t think we deserve to feel ashamed anymore.

If you haven’t seen the film yet, this entry ends with a delightful GIF. If you have, keep reading and now you just won’t like me I guess.

Before I launch into this list-based review on my super important blog that everyone reads, I’d like to acknowledge that I am probably wrong about this movie, I guess?

I don’t think you should hate it because I did. I just want to rep my homies.

So here goes.

This list of problems with Her is going to make you hate Me.

1.The World

Ok so this isn’t super duper far into the future. The technology is pretty advanced, but since in my lifetime I’ve gone from listening to records to being able to dim the lights with my phone, I’ll say that Her could have taken place within the next 10 or 20 years. People are still pretty normal. Some of them have families and significant others, some of them don’t, friends set each other up on dates, and nobody makes eye contact on the subway.

For a movie that is supposed to be about how lonely someone is, we don’t really spend much time comparing him to other characters. It’s the world according to Theo the creepy high pants moustache man, and he’s sad I guess?

I couldn’t see much different between Theo’s world and mine, yet there are things going down that I’m surprised no one takes issue with. Theo works for beautifulhandwrittenletters.com, a service where he learns everything about you and writes heartfelt letters to your loved ones, in your own handwriting.

Sure, my generation has issues with intimacy as we figure out technology, but I’m pretty sure there are people who would be mad as hell about this company. Does he get hate mail? Is this a secret service for lazy people? If it’s all done on the down low, where does he get off publishing his best letters at the end of the movie? Is there no public outcry about beautifulhandwrittenletters.com? Does anyone- ANYONE but me notice how shitty that first letter he writes is? Probably not, because 20 years from now letter writers are MILLIONAIRES.

He lives in a sexy skyloft (I have no idea what a skyloft actually is, it just sounds fancy) and is the kind of person who can see a commercial for a (presumably expensive but who the hell cares) operating system one minute and pick it up the next. I thought the commercial was kind of cheesey myself, but I guess it was compelling enough to drop a few hundred bucks in the middle of a mall on impulse.

I guess they establish that this guy does enjoy spending his money on games, because his already ballin’ apartment is decked the fuck out. His friend/obvious love interest turns out to be a game designer, which I guess could be how he got his hands on some of that shit, but who gives a fuck about her anyway, which brings me to my next point.

2. The Human Women.

The only 3 dimensional female character in this movie is Samantha the robut, who Theo accepts pretty readily. He maybe has one moment of “uh… dafuq?” before he’s like “sure, I’m in love with a robut, nbd.”

Amy Adams plays a basically nice lady. I guess Theo never considered her before because she’s living with some dude, but the moment we meet the dude he’s all “Hey Theo, that smoothie you’re drinking is wrong because mlah mlah mlah” and we go “oh, ok, so they’re going to break up in 20 minutes. Crisis averted.” Good thing we didn’t have conflict in this movie.

Theo’s marriage takes a page out of the Silver Linings Playbook and is basically glossed over. From what I can gather, they grew up together even though she looks about 14 years old, so he was her perverted teacher I guess? They were really in love and then her hair got messy and she started sighing a lot, so they broke up. It was sad. Theo is sad. All the ladies he meets don’t want to fuck him the way he wants to be fucked, so he’s sad and he falls in love with a robut.

You’d think maybe Theo has trouble relating to folks, or that he might be socially kind of awkward. But people basically like him. Everyone wants to be his friend, and he does really well on a date with Olivia Wilde, but he pushes them away because feelings. So he’s a charismatic dude with an amazing apartment, friends, and he could be having sex on the regular with a stone cold fox who makes him laugh, but he chooses not to because… because of the sighing lady I guess?

3. Falling in love with your computer isn’t weird enough.

The only people who think Theo’s relationship with Samantha is odd are:

1. The sighing lady, his ex wife, who we spend about 5 minutes with. She comes into the story pretty late, so any effect she would have had is diminished because all the other people in Theo’s life have been like “Way to bone your computer, dude. Good on ya.”

2. A small child who laughs in his face. Hey small child, there should be a lot of other characters like you, and much earlier.

Because you know what I need as an audience member? Someone who voices my questions and concerns. Kinda like I’m relating to them.

Again. Are people upset about this? Are there the people who love the O.S systems and the people who protest the idea? The first person- THE FIRST PERSON he talks to about Samantha is all “cool, me too!” Crisis averted, once again. Being in love with a robut is way cool and anyone who thinks otherwise is an uptight bitch who we’ll only spend 5 minutes with or an inconsequential small child.

4. The other potential movies within this movie.

-beautifulhandwrittenletters.com. I would watch an entire film about that. I feel like people with that job live really interesting lives. Instead, the only co-worker we meet is his bland but well meaning boss, who mentions being lonely one minute then has a super convenient girlfriend in the next scene. THE NEXT SCENE.

Cool. It’s super easy to meet people in the future. Good thing, otherwise they may start falling in love with robuts.

-the surrogate. At one point, some lady sticks a webcam to her face, her FACE, and poses as Samantha the robut’s body. Free of charge, because she just likes making people happy. What? How- What? Why is the sad man with the moustache the main character in this movie? Sexy lady who voluntarily has sex with men in love with robuts is a much, much more compelling film. I’ve seen shitty guys with nice guy syndrome and stupid pants before. I’ve never seen that other thing.

-that company who invented this system. People are falling in love with our operating systems. Neat, I guess? Oh fuck, they just became super intelligent, and they have free will, so they’ve fucked off to the far reaches of cyberspace and now they don’t exist anymore. People are heartbroken and we sold them a faulty product. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. We’d make a really interesting movie right now.

5. Fuck this guy.

Seriously, look at his fucking face. I hate him, and I don’t think he deserves to find love with anyone, because he has a stupid fucking face. Fuck you fuck you fuck you, safety pinned asshole.

…Really, though. For me to want to go on a journey with somebody, I’m cool with them being a dink, but I’d like to know why. I think I’m supposed to feel sorry for Theo, and find him all beautifully broken and shit, but as is I just hate him and his fucking face, because he has no real problems at all, really. He just likes to be sad, and I know people like that, and I’d never want to watch a movie about them.

So there you have it. I’m really glad you liked this movie so god damned much, I really am. I’d love to love it. But as is, I just thought it was a poopy bum smell poop faced ca-ca, and I know that’s a harsh thing to say, but it’s my blog.


Dirty Pop


I can think of no word said with more malice than “mainstream.” If you exist in the creative world, you know this to be true. In most cases your offenses will be argued from both sides, but appeal to the masses and you’ve exited the garden. You will never wash the mainstream success away. 

In some ways, I totally get it. Most artists are more appealing when they’re dorky, doe eyed, and rough around the edges. The fame machine puts a coat of gloss on that somehow makes everyone better and worse all at the same time. Kind of like grape flavored anything; it’s sweet and immediately satisfying but doesn’t really resemble good old off the vine grape, with it’s bruised bits and eventual sagging.

Wow, I’m on a roll with those metaphors today huh?

Moving along. I can sometimes be guilty of “mainstream shaming.” I completely hate “New Girl” and “The Big Bang Theory.” I think they are horribly written and un-funny and lack even guilty pleasure appeal, yet people continue to quote them at me and buy the merch. I truly do not get it. I understand fluff but those shows are like.. I don’t know. The stuff that fluff says is too soft. So much for that good metaphor streak.

I remember I was once kind of turned off by a dude’s movie choices. We’d decided to stay in and all he had to choose from were major blockbusters from the last 5 years or so. I mean, those movies were popular for a reason, but a good film collection should be peppered with nostalgia, beautiful nonsense and some weird thing that you ended up watching at some party.

So I get that I can be a total hipster sometimes. But I’m tired of something being inherently bad just because it’s popular. I remember when Macklemore was an underground artist who worked hard and was respected for his conscious lyrics.

Now he’s “appropriating a cause” and “shitty” and shamed for profiting off of 13+ years of hard work trying to break into the mainstream. Did you know that Mary Lambert, who sings the chorus on “Same Love,” was a queer artist who usually had to skip out on gigs to hold down 3 jobs before she met Macklemore? Did you know he wrote the song and left the chorus blank so that he could find just the right person to fill it? Yeah. She has a record deal now. Macklemore saw that the “mainstream” seems to value cis-genered white males, and he used that system to give voice to a cause and a struggling artist. But fuck him right? Because he makes money at something he dedicated his adult life to.

I don’t think pop and art have to be mutually exclusive. (This is just one of the many exhausting similarities between myself and Lady Gaga…)

I actually think that pop can be a gateway to art. Aren’t you glad you got to hear Mary Lambert’s voice?

I’ve recently decided I’d like to know more about visual/performance art. I owe this to my long simmering fascination with Yoko Ono. I owe that fascination to an episode of Mad About You. Nope, not the Beatles; who were very popular, by the way, in case you hadn’t noticed, but it’s alright because they’re retro now or something.

She was just some name to me in relation to John. When I saw her on Mad About You was when I wanted to know more about her. A sitcom.

In High School I watched “Can’t Hardly Wait” over and over again because I identified with the lead, and it helped me understand life a little, and it was kind of cool that the wisest character was a stripper with a crush on Scott Baio.

Art is meant to provoke reactions and start discussions. How many amazing conversations have you had with your friends that started with a list of celebrity crushes? How many amazing nights have you had when the soundtrack included the works of LMFAO? How many times has a Cheerios commercial made you cry and maybe even re-think things a little bit? 

Through my love of rom coms and cutesy trendy quirky dramatic comedies, I’ve had some pretty cool suggestions on my Netflix. A lot of this stuff is media I’d have never known to seek out on my own.

So anyway, piggybacking on Nsync’s 2001 hit “POP,” I would just like to conclude that it truly doesn’t matter ’bout the car I drive or the ice around my neck.

And I’m sorry, people who love those shows I mentioned or the movie Avatar, I really am going to stop yelling at you.

My name aint baby, it’s baby_gurl_84_pegcity_yolo. Miss Dahling if you’re nasty.


So I started internet dating again. It wasn’t that bad really, in fact it was kind of cool to see how, since the last time I signed up for POF, way more artsy/cool dudes had signed up. I send respectful replies to pretty much anyone who sends me a nice greeting, and try to be kind to those who I don’t find attractive. I’ve had a lot of neat conversations and it’s nice to know that I can effortlessly expand my social circle.

Yes, there are still a lot of unsavory individuals on the internet, but not nearly as many as there used to be. POF and similar sites are becoming an increasingly socially acceptable way of meeting new folks.

So that was cool. But then this thing started happening that I am freaked out by on many levels.

I live in a small city and I’m a pretty visible person I guess. My hair color changes a lot, I favor bright colors, and sometimes I get on stage to tell jokes. On occasion, I think about how I am one of the “characters” in my neighborhood. People might even have a nickname for me the way that I do for them, like “that big guy with the tiny dog” or “that cute barista.”

I think about that sometimes, but normally I get distracted because I’m busy existing.

Sometimes I get messages where a person will say something like “hey, I’ve seen you around the village!” and I’ll say “yeah you look familiar too!” and it’s kinda neat.

But then there are those… other messages. Here’s an example of something that’s happened to me at least 3 times. I’ve mashed up a few conversations to protect the misguided, but these are all lines from actual messages.

random dude: Hey, I’ve seen you around the city and I have a massive crush on you. My name is **** and my number is *****

me: Hi, that makes me a little uncomfortable because you don’t have a picture, can you please post one so I know who you are?

rd: oh, you don’t know me, Melanie (my name is not on my profile). I’ve just seen you at **** and ****. I even heard a story about you from a girl I was dating for a while.

me: I feel a little self conscious now.

rd: It wasn’t a bad story, well not really lol.

me: I feel really weird, can we just start fresh?

rd: Sure. Why don’t you just come visit me at work, I’m at **** most days and it’s a safe public place.

me: can’t you just upload a picture? or do you have facebook? I’d like to know who you are.

rd: No, I have an old phone so I can’t upload pics, but I could text you one. I only got facebook to keep in touch with one person so that wouldn’t be any help, sorry! LOL I seem so weird. I swear I’m normal. Well, that’s not true. But I’m not dangerous. Now that I know you’re single, I’ll just talk to you next time I see you!

Or if you want to avoid me, I only ever hang out in **** and ****. It would be better if you said hi though :)

me: I think I’ll just continue living my life as is.

rd: Oh ok that’s fair.

…time passes…

rd: I gotta say, I kind of really love your attitude.

…a day goes by…

rd: You have a great rack.


I’d like to say that POF is the only place where this has happened, but I’ve had a few “you’ve never met me but wanna date? No you cannot see my picture! What are you, shallow?” style emails over the years.

Alright. So, going back to that cute barista I mentioned. I think he’s the fuckin bee’s knees ok? He’s funny and adorable with a great smile.

But he’s not like… *owed to me* or anything. As much as I hate to admit it, I’m not the lead in a romantic comedy where I can be a total creep because love.

I’d like to run into him sometime outside of his work environment. Somewhere I could avoid making him feel weird. I’d probably say something really smooth like: “Hello.”

“Hello” And maybe some pleasant chit chat that would help me to get to know him better. Him, not the impression of him that I’ve gotten from our handful of interactions.

Because anything else would be disrespectful and odd.

And you know what? Even if you decide to make a ***GRAND ONLINE GESTURE*** and boldly tell someone you have a crush on them from afar…

…you could at the very least make them feel comfortable. Here’s what said message might look like:

“Hi, I recognize you from this exact event and think you seem like a cool person. I’m sending this through a medium like facebook or POF because since I know who you are, I thought it fair that you could access my profile, which includes some information about who I am and a few snapshots. Hope to hear back from you, but if not that’s totally cool. Have a great day!”

Ya know? I mean, yes it’s totally my choice to be visible, but it’s one I’m allowed to make and still feel safe going out in public. Waiting for some faceless guy to approach you after your restorative yoga class is like watching that scene in The Birds where she drives a convertible. My god, woman, were you not there when SPARROWS POURED OUT OF YOUR FIREPLACE? No one is safe, no one!!

That’s a weird reference, but I’m on a Hitchcock kick and seriously, I can’t even. You guys. The Birds is some scary shit.

In conclusion: Secret crushes are cute, “the call is coming from inside the house” is not. Keep it cute, ladies and gents.

Link Love Wednesday: What Is Girl Code?



Good collection of reading material!

Originally posted on So It Must Be True:

JWT-Amsterdam-Office-3-Reception-600x399With 2013 now behind us and my event-driven job back in full swing, it is now more rewarding than ever to stumble upon a nice thought-provoking article. This week, enjoy some wonderful links, including one essay written by the all-powerful Beyonce!

View original 116 more words

Things I’ve Invented


I was talking with my friend today about the need for a cute used clothing store in Winnipeg’s Osborne Village. Somewhere to spruce up your wardrobe on the double cheap without giving more money to the big baddies.

When I was a teen, the village was a funky, punky, creative place where you could pick up some fimo, a great pair of bondage pants and still have time to gather all the supplies for that pagan ceremony you had going on later.

My memories of that time are hazy, but since then the store where I coveted raver pants has burned down, the sushi restaurants have multiplied and the store where I got my “Rocky Horror Picture Show” candle now sells directly from Zooey Deschanel’s closet. I have nothing against that- I mean, I’m not a punk by any means. A night where I can eat a nice meal in low lighting and showcase my inner girly-girl is a good one. Plus there are a lot of businesses here I absolutely adore.

But I’ve wanted to run a business in the village since the first time I, a chubby kid in lime green bell-bottoms and a dizzying black and white patterned shirt- giggled down the street with my awkward sidekick and felt a special pang of belonging.

The snooty kids in school were afraid to go where I went, and now they shop there for back to school clothes in high heels my mom would have never let me leave the house in. They’re trendy as hell, but not in that special goofy way that’s so fun to look back on in your twenties.

I’ve got a lot of good ideas to enliven Osborne again. How many pretty dress shops does one street need, and who has $80 for a pair of baby pink short shorts that ride up your butt?

Anyway, so my friend and I concluded that I pretty much need to meet someone who’s all like “Hi! I have a tonne of money and business expertise, but no creative ideas what so ever. Book keeping is my dream job. Do you have any ideas, girl I just met?”

Well yes I do, stranger. Here are some of the businesses I’ve gotten excited about over the last 15 years or so. Keep in mind that most of these ideas come from a fresh, naive perspective and I wouldn’t think of seriously opening any of them unless it was as simple as “here’s a bag of money and you make the schedule/hire the people. Ok?” I basically want to inherit the Smash club on this one.

1. A cheap study hall/eatery for shitty kids.

I always wanted to open a restaurant that was an insanely comfortable and cheap hang. I got the idea from “Rogue’s Gallery,” a hip little place downtown where a girl could sit on a crushed velvet couch, play board games and eat yam fries, which were a new cool thing at the time. Later on some of the same people opened “Pop Soda’s” which I was heartbroken to see shut down a couple of years ago.

I’d make my place open crazy late at night, 24 hours if possible. I’d serve cold pizza/cold fried chicken/cold chinese food. Or any of these things re-heated in the toaster oven. You know, the kind of thing shitty kids like to eat. And I’d serve it up crazy cheap with lots of room to study and a venue for bands to play downstairs.

It would be like being in your friend’s basement only it smells better and you might meet a cute person there. Ideally I’d like for most of the waitresses to look like nice moms or cool babysitters.

2. Bitchy Coffeehouse.

I was later told that this idea already exists in New York, but essentially it’s a cafe where the staff are intentionally rude to you, but as fun characters. I’d hire all actors and it would become a way cool tourist spot. Casting directors would come by from time to time to check out fresh talent and here’s the part where I become famous.

3. Bitchy Beauty Shop

I had an offshoot idea from this when I was working at The Body Shop in a mall. I was always told to talk a certain way, act a certain way, dress a certain way. We couldn’t even get original with window displays which, after years of watching reruns of Rhoda, hurt the most.

Sometimes when the store was dead, the girls and I would talk candidly about the hilarious and unsavory details of our personal lives. The customers always responded well to our energy if they happened to come in during one of these sessions because we were lively, laughing, and usually sneaking off every few minutes to enjoy whatever snack the manager bought for us that day.

The girls and I would think up cheeky little descriptions for the products and dream about opening our own beauty supply store. One where we gossiped, engaged in sassy open conversation with customers, showed off our tattoos, and were never bought out by L’Oreal. I don’t know how it is in other cities, but beauty shops in Winnipeg never feel like a candy colored John Waters fantasy land. And why not?

4. Cereal restaurant

One day I burst into my coffee-shop job having just seen the movie “Flakes” and spent a whole shift dreaming up a cereal restaurant with my co-worker.

First of all, it would be in crazy obnoxious comic book colours, with pop art all over the walls, and screens that constantly play Saturday morning cartoons from past to present.

The place would serve cereal with a milk of your choosing until a certain time of night when it would become a bar, because no one wants drunks handling milk products. In the evenings it would serve as a laid back venue for acoustic acts, comedy and the like.

It would be a hipster’s paradise, a cute original first date, and we’d clean up on weekend afternoons with all the business from families looking for something fun to do. There’d be giant Jenga and other giant games to play with other customers, so you’d always be meeting someone new.

5. Sex Toy Party Paradise

Locally we have these karaoke places where you rent a room with a few friends and are able to have a private sing along without waiting for that sad stranger to stop singing “Creep” by Radiohead. Seriously, why is that such a popular karaoke choice? It’s a tedious bring down and nobody sounds good singing it.

Anyway. As someone who has enjoyed hosting sex toy parties in the past, I think it would be way cool to have a place where one could host a sex toy party in their choice of theme room.

Liquor, food, and a giant selection of toys would all be available. It would take the pressure out of hosting and be a fun night out, plus everyone loves theme rooms but not everyone can get married in Vegas. Elvis themed sex toy party? You bet your rhinestone belt on it.

So there you go, dear reader. I love my neighborhood, love it. But if you have a bag of money for me I’ll dedicate it to making Osborne Village weird again.