NBFF (New Best Friends Forever)

I have a new best friend.

This is a bit of a controversial statement as my sister has always been my best friend (and still is, for the most part – no one can replace my sister) but my new friend and I just have a bond that has developed so quickly into something deep and irreplaceable.

We first met on June 4th though I saw her picture a few weeks before and just knew that we would be close. It sounds weird but it’s the truth. You know that feeling you get when you see something and just know that your life is about to change? That was the feeling I got when I saw her. It was the eyes that did me in, brown and soulful. She has the type of eyes that just instantly let you know everything is going to be ok.

No. Not just ok. Better than ok.

Within days of meeting we became inseparable. We go for walks together every day, usually twice a day. We plan adventures and cuddle on the couch to watch Netflix. Kevin loves her too which is making our constant companionship possible. And my sister, Julia, adores her. They even go on adventures together without me (I try to pretend I am not jealous, but they both know I am).

And to top it all off my best friend is literally a Ninja.

This girl sneaks, jumps, and plays like a character from Daredevil. It comes naturally to her and is pretty darn cool. I would be envious if I didn’t love her so much. She has limitless energy! It’s almost exhausting but it balances out my cautious personality perfectly.

She never talks over me and lets me voice my opinions, no matter how silly or stressed.

She always has a hug for me, even when I think I don’t need one.

She has helped tremendously with my anxiety, forcing me to leave the house and just get outside when all I want to do is curl up and sleep.

She understands me and loves me unconditionally, no matter what.

Sure, she likes to try and steal food off my plate (a pet peeve of mine) but everything else about her is so amazing I can overlook this one flaw.

I just know that we are in this together for the long haul and I can’t say how happy that makes me.

Without further ado I am pleased to introduce you, Dear Reader, to my best friend.



Love Letter, pt. 17.

Dear Lena Dunham,

I almost titled this post “A Love Letter to Girls” but worried that the name would really not reflect the message I am trying to send. Also it would sound like I am coming out which, if my boyfriend actually read my blog,  might result in a rather awkward conversation.

I can’t decide if I love you or am just seriously annoyed with you all of the time. (Which kind of feels the same as love. Right? Or is that weird?)

I started watching ‘Girls’ because my friends do and also because it was critically acclaimed which instantly made me feel both smarter and better looking for watching. After all, everyone knows that it’s only the smarter and better looking people that watch critically acclaimed shows and read books that win things like the Scotiabank Giller Prize.

But to be honest I kind of hate it.

Kind of really hate it. 93cdc9c37a865abfec81fe0928859603

Sure, it’s extremely clever and well written, but the truth is I just don’t like any of the characters at all. Or the plot. Yes, I am aware that the characters are meant to be fairly repulsive but alas, I have yet to fall into the trend of watching shows about people I hate. This is why I only know the ending of ‘Breaking Bad’ and ‘Dexter’ thanks to my good friend Google.

As a vapid, self-obsessed 20-something I find your show just hits a little too close to home for my comfort and because of that I have to hate it.

But don’t worry, I still watch each episode and tell people I like it because the only thing worse than not watching critically acclaimed shows is hating them. Then people really know you aren’t cultured.

It is for that very same reason that I have your book on my Kobo (though it still remains unread). Don’t get me wrong, I love witty celebrity books. (Mindy Kahling is my hero. Even after reading Tina Fey’s and Amy Poehler’s books, I have to say Mindy owns my book-loving heart. Also, I apparently love to name drop.)

I’m sure I will read it one day, but likely only because someone notices that it still says “unread” on my ereader and questions my carefully cultivated attempt at culture.

If it makes you feel any better my hatred of your show and annoyance of your interview persona doesn’t in any way hamper my respect for you. Girl, you gots skills! (Do cultured people say things like that?) Lena, you are a brilliant writer, an excellent speaker, and a wonderful role model for the generation of girls growing up today. Your body positivity messages and the way you advocate women’s rights makes me proud.  Thank you for all that you do.

But I will still continue to hate your show while watching it and pretending that it somehow makes me a better person. You’re welcome for my contribution to your ratings, even if I do multitask and scrapbook while it plays in the background and wish I was watching something else.

With all my heart,


PS. It was really hard to take Kylo Ren seriously when I just kept thinking of Adam Driver in ‘Girls’. Also, it was just really hard to take Kylo Ren seriously.


Lessons Learned in a Galaxy Far, Far Away

Dear George Lucas,

There is nothing that I can say that hasn’t been said a million times already (mostly by people far more eloquent than myself). You have disappointed me time and time again. Still, I suppose I owe you a thank you.

Thank you, Mr. Lucas, not just for creating one of the most beloved trilogies of all time, the brilliant space epic “Star Wars”, but also for teaching me about disappointment and tragedy.

No, I am not talking about the disappointment Luke Skywalker felt at being forced to stay and help with the farm on Tatooine or the tragedy of Alderaan being blown up.

I am talking about the disappointment of you claiming Han shot first. I am speaking to the tragedy that is ‘Phantom Menace’.

What were you thinking?

Why couldn’t you just leave well enough alone?


I dislike you and your smug face.

I get that CGI is cool and the additions to the Cantina scene weren’t terrible, but why did you have to add Hayden Christensen to ‘Return of the Jedi’? How does that even make sense? HOW?!

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate everything about Star Wars Episodes 1, 2, and 3.

I just hate most of everything about them.

Am I being a bit harsh?

I apologize; I suppose the wounds are still fresh.

Truthfully I was ready to forgive you for the way you stomped on my childhood but then you gave us ‘Indiana Jones 4’ and I realized some people just like to watch the world burn.

Upon realizing this darkness of your soul I cracked open a bottle of bubbly (Coca Cola, not Champagne … what do you think? I’m not made of money!) the day it was announced that the Star Wars Franchise had been sold to Disney. They will treat it right (I hope) while exploiting all possible marketing opportunities  and I couldn’t be happier.

I am going to buy so many toys! Though I suppose as a self-respecting adult I should start calling them ‘collectables’.

Despite my deep dislike for you, I still wish you all the best in your life.

And I suppose deep down I am thankful for you teaching me these lessons. Despite how often my parents tried to teach me that life isn’t fair you were really the one who hammered that home and for that I am grateful.



PS. I don’t suppose there is a chance I can come visit the Skywalker Ranch? I promise to be so, so polite (Obviously, I am Canadian!).

Friendly Not Flirty (Dear Gentleman Barista)

Dear Gentleman Barista,

I am sorry if I made you uncomfortable when I winked at you this morning. I recognize now that it was a weird thing to do especially with the lineup of people behind me. I will know better next time and promise to only wink when the place is empty.

Or, you know, just never wink again.

Also I am doubly sorry for loudly stating that I was being “friendly, not flirty” before laughing awkwardly and bumping into the gift card display. I just wanted to be clear and wasn’t sure how best to get the message across. Perhaps I should have just slid you a note? Either way, I think drawing attention to myself definitely made me seem more ‘flirty than friendly’ which was obviously not what I was going for.

I suppose silence is best in situations like this.

Honestly this nervousness is just because I have no idea how to act around you. Your penchant for giving me free stuff makes me uncomfortable as I am not sure if it’s because you “like me” or if it is meant as an apology for how you always spell my name wrong. (It’s Sarah with an H!)

I am not comfortable with people “liking me”. It’s weird and I don’t like it …

Alas, I do love not having to pay for soy and getting the occasional pretzel for free has the power to turn my frown upside down every time. Thank you for this.

To get back on point I really just want to make sure I am not leading you on in any way with my adorable awkwardness.
(My super cuteness factor isn’t something I can just turn off. It comes naturally to me.)

I promise I will give it up one day ...  I mean Starbucks. Get your mind out of the gutter.

I promise I will give it up one day …
I mean Starbucks. Get your mind out of the gutter.

The truth is I am quite happy with my current paramour and while I don’t think he can make a very good latte I still would like to keep him around. This doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate you and the awesome work you do, it just means this awkward tension between us is never going to go anywhere. Ever.

Was that too blunt?

My bad.

I hope we can continue our relationship of Barista/Customer both knowing that this is as far as it will ever go.

I also really hope you can start spelling my name right as it is one of my biggest Pet Peeves, though I am sure I can let it go if I must.
(That’s a lie, I will never let it go and if the opportunity ever presents itself I will definitely spell your name wrong!)

Thank you for your time (and for all of the free stuff).


PS. If your interest in me is because you think I have money please know that I don’t. I come to Starbucks all the time not because I can afford it, but because I am reckless and irresponsible.

PPS. Awkwardly winking at you and almost knocking over a display still isn’t the most embarrassing thing to happen to me at a Starbucks … Perhaps it’s time I just stop going? … … One day.

Happy Mother’s Day

Dear Mom,

Thank you for being so much more awesome than other Mom’s out there. After all, you raised me … how many other Moms can say that?

The answer is none.

No other Moms can say that.

You have always been such a tremendous influence on me and I am so thankful to have you in my life. You have coached me through so many life decisions (“Yes, of course we should have another glass of Sangria.”) and have been my inspiration since long before I even knew how to spell the word.

I am grateful for you every day (and not just because you let me quit Sea Cadets when Dad wanted me to stick it out).

Thank you for always being there for me, even when I am being a brat.
(Actually, thank you for being there for me especially when I am being a brat as those are often the times that I need you the most.)

I know you aren’t allowed to have a favourite child but just between me, you, and the internet you can go ahead and admit that I am your favourite youngest child and we will both know what you really mean.

You are my favourite Mom. Please do not let the fact that you are my only Mom detract from the meaning behind that. I watch a lot of TV and thus have seen a lot of Mom’s in action and I must say that you are so much better than all of them.

Thank you for being my confidant when I need advice and my phone a friend when I just want someone to talk to. Thank you for being my craft consultant and my baking guru. Thank you for being my Starbucks Companion and my book reading beach date (though we always talk more than read).

But most of all, thank you for being my Mom.

Happy Mother’s Day!

I promise not to tell the story about the time you *blank* or that other time when we were driving and you *blankity blank blank*. We’ll save those for later!

Love Always,


PS. Yes, I do still love you, even if you are kicking my ass at Scrabble.


Little did she know that in a few years she would become the best Mom of all time.

Love Letter, pt. 16.

Dear James May,

I meant to write this love letter much sooner but I have been on the edge of my seat these last few weeks waiting to hear about the future of ‘Top Gear’ and thus had to put my pen and paper aside so I could scroll through Google News. It has been quite the rocky ride made bearable only by your continued dry wit and lovely face.

I love you, Captain Slow, with all my heart (or at least a fair chunk of it). You are a true delight and obviously my undisputed favourite host of ‘Top Gear’.

This is how I imagine you in my dreams, hearts in your eyes only for me!

This is how I imagine you in my dreams, hearts in your eyes only for me!

When Kevin first introduced me to ‘Top Gear’ I’ll admit I was skeptical. To be perfectly frank I have zero interest in cars and don’t even have a driver’s license.

But you won me over, you cheeky Brit.

I still remember it so clearly. We were watching the Bolivia Special and though I spent the first fifteen minutes playing on my phone I quickly tossed it aside to watch.
(In the interest of full disclosure, my phone battery was dead so I could no longer surf Pinterest, but please do not let that distract from the genuine interest I felt watching you grumpily travel through the rainforest, machete in hand.)

Your fear of heights and penchant for grouchiness stirred a fire in me that has been going strong ever since. From that first moment you yelled “Oh Cock!” I have been hooked.

You, sir, are a true gentleman.

Obviously we are meant to be, we both even dance the same way!

We both look absolutely absurd when we dance! It’s magic! Has there ever been a better sign that two people were more meant to be?

Since that rainy afternoon of watching you travel through South America I have watched dozens more episodes of ‘Top Gear’ and have truly become a fan.

I mean, I still obviously don’t give a flying *expletive* about cars but the show (and you) are hilarious.

And though I have only ever watched clips of your other BBC Specials that segment where you were in a house built of Lego was pretty darn cool.

You, sir, are awesome.

I honestly hope to run into you one day while I am wearing my black Helly Hansen shirt, the very same one you wore on that episode that one time which may or may not have been why I chose that particular style of shirt.
(You have the same one! I know you do, despite my failed Google Search – apparently you can’t find everything on the internet. Thanks, Google.)

You will politely say “Hello” and compliment me on my excellent taste in clothing.

I will coyly tell you how much I love you then stammer and blush and attempt to correct myself by saying “I mean, not like in a creepy way or anything” before staring intensely which will of course make everything even weirder.

Then I will gaze longingly into your eyes.

It will be magic.

Until then, my love, farewell!



So. Very. Sexy. It's that whole 'stern British man' look you've got going on. And boy, do you have it going on!

So. Very. Sexy. It’s that whole ‘stern British man’ look you’ve got going on. And boy, do you have it going on!


Love Letter, pt. 15. My Super Valentine

Dear Spider-Man,

Ok. Let’s just clear the air and get this out of the way before things get awkward. Deep Breath. Are you ready? I know you are Peter Parker. Sure, I get that it’s supposed to be a secret, but come on dude. Perhaps you should lay low on the origin stories for a while if you’re really that concerned about people finding out? Maybe back out of that deal you just made with Marvel Studios?

Or, you know, just accept the fact that everyone knows.

Anyway, I’m glad we got that out of the way. This makes everything else I have to say so much easier.

Spider-Man, I am in love with you. I have been in love with you since I was 6 and first read one of your comic books and I rekindled that love in 2002 when Sam Raimi brought you to the big screen and back into my heart.

Just look at all those lean muscles!

Just look at all those lean muscles!

It’s a pure love with a whole lot of dirty behind it.

Did I just make things awkward?

What I am trying to say is that I really and truly love you. Your awkwardness inspired me when I was younger. Your brilliance made me realize it is ok to be smart. Your sense of justice and your desire to do good in the world made me want to be a better person. Your cocky arrogance made me love so very many bad boys. And don’t even get me started on how freaking sexy you are.

You are so freaking sexy.

Oh Spidey, even brooding is a good look for you. Be still my heart.

Oh Spidey, even brooding is a good look for you. Be still my heart.

I love you for you, not just for who plays you on screen. (Though Andrew Garfield really is destined to be the subject of one of these letters in the very near future.)

And even though I prefer to read X-Men Comics you are by far my favourite super hero.

Sure, you wouldn’t be the best boyfriend. First there are all of the mortal enemies you have accumulated throughout the years who are always trying to kill you and everyone you hold dear. I’m sure that would get old fast. Plus you have enough emotional baggage to require a turnstile. I mean, I can’t imagine the toll that being responsible for the deaths of both your Uncle and Gwen has had on your psyche, but I am sure we can work past that. Let my love heal you. And as for your love of Mary Jane? I was a redhead for 6 years and I really don’t mind being one again. It was a good colour on me. Just say the word and I’ll henna it up.

We could be great together, Spidey dear. Give love a chance.

I can see us now, swinging over Manhattan with your arms around me, the wind brushing through my hair and whipping the tears from my terrified eyes. (Did I mention that I’m deathly afraid of heights? I hope that’s not a deal breaker.) Maybe we could grab coffee one sleepy Saturday and drop by ‘Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters’ on one of your visits to help the X-Men. Who knows, I might even have some latent mutant powers and we can further bond while cultivating our “secret” identities.

Or maybe you could move to Canada to be with me? I have a feeling we have a lot less Super Villains than Manhattan so it might be the much needed break you deserve.

At the very least just promise me you will think about it.

Happy Valentine’s Day, my web-slinging friend

With All My Heart,


I know this is going to sound weird, but I swear you are giving me the bedroom eyes beneath that mask. Hubba Hubba.

I know this is going to sound weird, but I swear you are giving me bedroom eyes beneath that mask. Hubba Hubba.