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!).

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. 14

Dear Rory Williams,

I love you, big nose and all.

You were (and still are, actually) my favourite companion. Err … I mean companion to the Doctor. You weren’t my companion. Yet. Maybe.

Excuse me a moment while I pretend that the words you are saying are "I love you, Sarah." I mean, really, it's not like I've ever been known for reading lips ...

Excuse me a moment while I pretend that the words you are saying are “I love you, Sarah.”
I mean, really, it’s not like I’ve ever been known for reading lips …

Shut up, Sarah! Just be cool!

Ok. Let me start this again.

Dear Rory,

I love you, deeply and unabashedly.

You are charming, funny, loyal, caring, kind, and, if we’re being perfectly honest, the most amazing man to ever grace my television screen (except maybe Marshall, but let’s not go there).

Your intense loyalty to Amy Pond brought tears to my eyes repeatedly. 2000 years guarding the Pandorica? Mouthing off to Cyber-Men? The way you cried when you first held your daughter? You are genuinely swoon-worthy.

Oh-so very swoon-worthy.

And when you sacrificed yourself to the Weeping Angels? You, my darling Rory, broke my heart. Honest. That scene is still one of my favourites in all of Doctor Who (take that, Rose).

Smolder for me baby!

Smolder for me baby!

And though you have very permanently been ripped out of the story line I still cross my fingers and hold out hope that one day you and Amy will return, ready to sass it out with the new Doctor who would probably be annoyed and delighted to no end.

(Are you reading this, Steven Moffat? I’ve got some great story ideas if you’d like to give me a call? Feel free to drop me a line on this here blog and we’ll discuss.)

But until that day comes I will just have to content myself by watching old episodes repeatedly while I shop for witty Doctor Who accessories online.

I love you, Rory. Thank you for showing me what it truly means to be a companion.

With all of my heart,


PS. I had a pretty big crush on Arthur Darvill, the actor who portrays Rory, until I discovered on one of my many internet searches that he’s apparently super into taxidermy which freaked me out a fair bit. Alas, they can’t all be perfect.

That WOULD be distracting! Oh, Rory. How I love thee!

That WOULD be distracting! Oh, Rory. How I love thee!

Sentimental Claptrap (The Third)

I met Kevin while I was seeing someone else.

Sort of.

That’s the thing I hate about internet dating, you don’t want to miss out on opportunities to get to know people but you also have no idea where you stand after just one or two magical dates (or even just pretty good or not terrible ones). When do you take down the profile that took three hours and a thesaurus to create? When do you decide to put all your eggs in one basket? (Fertility joke FTW!) It’s all needlessly complicated and I definitely overthought the process.

Still, I knew minutes into our first date that I liked Kevin. If I had been 10 years younger I would have doodled his name on my notebook at work. Heck, I probably (definitely) did it anyway even if it wasn’t strictly age appropriate.

There was just something about him that made our dates feel effortless (even if he did spend far too much time talking about the movie ‘The Human Centipede’ on our first date).

By our second date I knew without a doubt that I was deeply, irrevocably in like.
(Our second date is one of my favourite stories which I have regrettably promised never to share on the internet. And no, dear reader, get your mind out of the gutter. It wasn’t anything seedy or weird, just adorably romantic and unforgettable.)

One month in I couldn’t imagine dating anyone else or even ever wanting to.

And now, three years later, I still feel exactly the same. Sure I no longer feel the need to wear makeup every time I see him and I rarely if ever change out of my pajamas on our nights in, but I still find myself smiling whenever I think of him unexpectedly. It’s magic.

Today is our third anniversary and I am rather delighted. We have made so many amazingly fun memories together and have been on enough adventures to fill three scrapbooks and a notebook. (Me? Sentimental? I guess …) We fit well together.

He is the calm to my neurotic.

He is the sensible to my whimsical.

And he makes me happy.

Together we are totally my favourite couple … you know, after Marshall & Lily, Logan & Veronica, and Rory & Amy. I guess it’s better to say we are totally my favourite real couple? Let’s go with that.

But I digress.

Here is to another year of adventures and escapades. Here is to another year of board games, wine, and Lord of the Rings. Here is to another year of date nights and awesome hikes.

Here is to another year of us.


Delightul and Delighted! PS. Yes, I am wearing glasses over top of my glasses. All the cool people are doing it.


Love Letters, pt. 13. My Platonic Soul Mate.

Dear Julia,

My darling sister, my best friend, my one true soul mate, you are the platonic love of my life and I am so grateful for you every day.

I know that you are turning 29 for the second time this year and on the occasion of your birthday (which is actually Monday) I would like to thank you from the bottom of my heart for waiting for me to catch up before you hit the milestone of 30. It is very much appreciated.

Delighted and Delightful

Delighted and Delightful

You are the laid back to my anxious, the fun to my serious, the charming to my awkward and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Together we make one well rounded person which is why we have to be best friends for all time forever and ever.

Seriously. Forever and ever.

Like, there is definitely a “No Returns, No Exchanges” policy on this friendship and it is ironclad.

Anyway, thank you for inspiring me so much to be a better person and for encouraging me to embrace the adventures that life has to offer (even when it’s just so we can giggle together at how spectacularly awkward things become).

Throughout my life whenever I have looked back at the best times or even the most ridiculous times you have been there, either sharing the memories and moments with me or listening to repeated retellings without judgment.

(Ok. That’s a lie. There has been some judgment, but only in the best way.)

All of my greatest memories, all of my deepest sorrows, and all of my best puns have been shared with you. It’s a bond that is impossible to break … or at the very least very difficult.

Thank you for teaching me how to have fun, whether it was playing mermaids as children or feeding the neighbours mud pie, we had some good times and learned a lot about consequences (and yes, “If it’s already done we CAN still get in trouble for it”).

You are the most amazing person I have ever known. You are the life of the party, the heart of your friendships, and the inspiration to many (especially me).

Happy Birthday.

With love,


photo 4

Johnny & Johnny: Adventurers Extraordinaire



Love Letter, pt. 12

In honour of the third installment of The Hobbit and my deep love of Middle Earth.

Dear Bilbo Baggins,

Let me just start by saying that though I have a deep love and admiration for you I really hate your name.

Like, really hate it.

This is why for the purpose of this letter I am going to call you Bill. Sound good? Great.

And he reads too! How dreamy!

And he reads too! How dreamy!

Bill, I have always identified more with you than with any other hero in Middle Earth. The first chapters where you bask in the comfort of your Hobbit Hole while despairing over the ill-mannered intrusion of the dwarves earned my devotion at a very young age.

You see, I too prefer to sit at home with my many snacks and books than traipse through unknown lands. (At least I would if Orcs were real and I had to worry about disembowelment. I feel like fear of disembowelment puts a damper on things.)

I also wholeheartedly agree with you, Adventures DO make you late for dinner!

But despite your love of a quiet night in you faced your fear and joined those dwarves on their adventure! This has changed me more than I can say.

Throughout my life I have literally said the mantra “What would Bill(bo) do?!” whenever faced with the choice of comfort versus excitement. And while comfort often won out there were many times where excitement and adventure ruled my life. My own excursion to Middle Earth (chronicled in my Travel Story: Read Between the Lines) was inspired by you, and while I never found the means to become invisible I also never endangered my hometown by bringing The One Ring home and leaving it with my nephew so I think that makes us even.

It is because of you that I chose to be a Halfling the few times I played D&D, and I always made sure my character hemmed and hawed about decisions, asking more than a few times about when dinner was being served.

It is because of you that I understand the value of risks.

I love you, dear Bill, and thank you for the influence you have had on my life. It is with a bittersweet heart that I count down the days until the third Hobbit movie comes out, marking the end of my big screen encounters with Middle Earth (though now I can start counting down for the extended edition’s Blu-ray release which I will obviously buy).

With all my love and devotion,


PS. It doesn’t hurt that you are played by Martin Freeman in the Hobbit Movies. I sure do love Martin Freeman.

I'm pretty sure this is the exact expression I have whenever I go on an Adventure.

I’m pretty sure this is the exact expression I have whenever I go on an Adventure. We obviously belong together.