Blessed Are the Little Bloggers, For They Shall Be Awarded

Guys…my best friend nominated me for a Blog Award. ME. Because she’s my BEST FRIEND.

Also, because I have less than 500 followers, and that’s how this whole award nomination thing works.

Me and my devoted followers.

But seriously, I’m very honoured. Thanks so much, Laurie! Time for *our interview.*

1. How long have you been blogging?

Oh man. I have a long, messy history with blogging. I started my first, a dearly departed Xanga, when I was 16 (2004). It was a disaster. I used it to pour out all my angsty, unrequited feelings towards a boy. This house of poorly constructed valentine cards came crashing down when said boy discovered the blog, and also his super conservative parents. Needless to say, we all had a freak-out and I deleted the blog. I was not okay with being an online presence for quite some time, only joining Facebook in 2008 because I wanted to stalk catch up with people I hadn’t talked to in a long time. Facebook notes were my friend for quite awhile, and that led to a Blogspot site that I don’t even remember the URL of, and then in December 2010, I joined WordPress.

2. What inspired you to start your blog?

I grew up as an only child in a single-parent home, and I was homeschooled for a good portion of that time. I’m convinced that I tell stories because A.) I like attention, and B.) because I just need someone to know what’s going on in my head at all times. What if I’m a crazy person and I just don’t know it? What if this thing I’m obsessing about is actually completely normal and I don’t need to worry? People are the trampoline I bounce my thoughts off of, and writing about life is my form of therapy, especially if someone else out there can convince me that I’m not crazy OR alone in what I’m feeling and thinking. When that happens, it feels really good.

3. What is your favourite colour?

I am obsessed with purple and green, but mostly purple. I have a purple frying pan and I almost never want to use it because it’s so pretty, but then I want to use it because I’m lazy and it’s the easiest to wash. It’s a problem. Also, today, I saw a purple bass guitar for only $200 and I nearly died. If I didn’t already know how to play bass, I would learn it just so I could have the purple, shiny thing.

4. What is your all-time favourite movie?

Ohhhh, WHAT. I cannot pick just one. This question is the worst. I’m quite passionate about movies, as my 134 “movie likes” listed on Facebook will allude to. Anything that makes me feel something, think about something, learn something new, gives me an eargasm, or come away with a different perspective than I had before. I think American History X and Gravity and Cold Mountain cover all those categories. And basically any Disney movie. Anything epic and fantasmic. I’m also obsessed with any post-apocalyptic or end-of-the-world disaster/survival story – no matter how cheesy – because I grew up being told that I was going to have to live (or die horribly) through all of that. If anything, those films make me come away feeling grateful that I’m NOT having to survive the Apocalypse right meow.

5. When do you typically work on your blog?

Whenever I’m at home. I’ve only ever written two posts on my phone, and it’s pretty exhausting. I like adding gifs and pictures to accentuate my words (caaaaaaaan ya tell?)), so my computer makes that a lot easier. And since I’ve been drastically unemployed for some time now, I’ve been blogging more than ever. Mostly just to process all the emotions that I have pertaining to being newly married, in a new city, with no job. Like I said, free therapy. A gift from the Internet gods.

6. Coffee or tea or neither?

I only drink coffee if it’s got sugary sweetness, steamed milk, and cinnamon on top. So basically, a Cinnamon Dolce Latte from Starbucks. In the summer, I do enjoy the occasional Iced Capp from Tim Hortons. (Hello World! I am Canada!) And I’ll drink pretty much any kind of tea if it’s offered to me. On my own, I’m more of a juice or water or Dr. Pepper kind of gal. Oh, and one of my friends gave me a precious canister labeled Emergency Tea Stash with the sidebar Don’t Forget To Be Awesome to help me cope with life. I like it a lot.

7. Is writing a career or hobby for you?

Tricky question. Right now, writing is definitely just a hobby for me. More like a necessity, really, as you might have gathered by now. (#ineedhelp) I plan on writing a memoir that describes what it was like to grow up the way I did, and being an illegal immigrant for 13 years afterwards. Because hello writing fodder. But at the same time, I’m not sure if I want writing to turn into a job or the pressure of a deadline. I’d rather just be creative and flowy at this point.

Just like this little wind sock.

8. What do you love most in this world?

a.) God b.) my husband and family c.) the people who have stuck with me this long d.) my unborn children e.) music f.) my cat (placing the letter F before this statement works out really well.) g.) cupcakes h.) the ocean i.) the feeling of rubbing tissue paper between my fingers until it disintegrates j.) baby ballerinas k.) hugs l.) sunshine m.) unexpected adventure o.) the ukulele p.) Jennifer Lawrence q.) concerts r.) pizza s.) getting my hair done t.) newborn babies u.) mini Coopers v.) Funko dolls w.) Mexican garb x.) butterflies y.) reading z.) blue 5 gum.

But WAIT. There’s MORE.

Just…later.

9. Can you share something that you have learned recently?

Yes. That married life is even harder and BETTER than I imagined. #AgentButton4Ever

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10. Where is your favourite place to shop online?

I hardly ever shop online. I hardly ever shop at all. But when I do, I love Think Geek. I love finding nerdy things that our house doesn’t need but that we would surely love. My next purchase wants to be the Tauntaun sleeping bag cause campin’ season is a-comin’!

11. What is your biggest pet peeve?

What I want to know is, where did the phrase pet peeve come from? Why does that apply to things we can’t stand? But I definitely can’t handle misunderstanding someone or being misunderstood by someone. Or hypocrites. Or people cracking their knuckles.

Aaaaaaaaaannnnndddd…..

I will keep this award in high regard on this, my 101st blog post. Thanks for reading!

I nominate Writer B Is Me, and She Drives a Vegetable Car. xox

Marching Onward!

So who knew March Madness was a real thing? I certainly didn’t. And in the honour of this being my 100TH BLOG POST (!!!!!) I will share little blips of everything that has been truly Madness-ing over here. Vignettes, you might call them. But trust me when I say there’s no basketball involved whatsoever.

PRE-DESOLATION OF STEVE:

ONE. I made a shirt. I made a SHIRT.

Like, I took 2 old holey shirts and put them together to make a NEW shirt, with nothing but scissors, cross-stitching thread, needles, and my imagination. It’s survived the laundry machines twice now, so I guess my work was pretty legit.

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My mother is so proud, she’s ready to open my very own Etsy business.

TWO. I am mastering the Katniss braid.

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Thank you, Pinterest. I’m feeling pretty confident about moving on to knitting the drool-inducing Katniss shawl now. #not

THREE. Steve taught little people how to ukulele, and they were all, “I love you, Mr. Steve!”, and it was enough to squeeze my heart into a million leetle Lego pieces.

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That super sexy man kneeling on the floor is mine and you can’t have him.

FOUR. Walter met Keyboard Cat.

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As a result, it made him very introspective about his own life and where it was headed.

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FIVE. We found a Lighthouse, and it took every ounce of my self-control to NOT hop over all of the government fences trying to keep me out of it.

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There was even an eagle, and everything was perfect.

SIX. My doula cards came in the mail,

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and my months-long dream of having Frozen in my possession came true.

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SEVEN. Toilet paper went on sale.

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EIGHT. We joined a Motown band! I have no picture proof yet, but believe me, it’s happening.
Some dear Catholic friends of ours know of an elementary school with a desperate need for a gym, so a fundraising event called “Night At the Apollo” has been formed, and our band has an hour-long set. We’re pretty excited, because, as it turns out, it actually IS possible to team up with people who have different backgrounds than you do in order to make good stuff happen for kids. (I’m lookin’ at chu, WorldVision.)

Also, I’m excited simply because, after all this time, my inner Aretha and outer Diana Ross (at least when it comes to hair) will get a chance to shine as I sing R.E.S.P.E.C.T. and I Say A Little Prayer For You in a little black dress. Ohhhhh, picture proof is COMING.

POST-DESOLATION OF STEVE:

NINE. We are the worst car-jackers in the world.

On Monday night, I got invited over to Laura’s house to watching Catching Fire. I was excited because I so needed a JHutch/JLaw fix.

Steve, being too tired to join us, walked me out to my car. Steve, being too tired to join us, promptly locked my purse, my phone and both sets of my keys INSIDE my car.

We weren’t worried. It’s happened before (although maybe not exactly like that), and if worse came to worst, we had BCAA, which would get us a free unlocking from a tow truck.

First, he tried screwdrivers to pick the lock. And then Allen keys. And then there was talk of breaking the lock and him replacing it for me. And then I checked our closet and it had ONE wire hanger for us to decimate.

I must also include the fact that we are doing this in broad daylight, by the main road – not secluded in our own driveway. Anyone who doesn’t know that this is my car would think we are stealing it, and it is prime time for everyone in the neighbourhood to be coming home from work.

We got double-takes, triple-takes, slow downs, but ultimately were completely ignored and left to our car-jacking in peace. People these days!

For 25 minutes, I stood there, putting pressure on a screwdriver to separate the rubber lining of my car door so that Steve could snake the wire hanger through the space. Since my car is from 1994, there are no lock latches, just plastic stubs that push up and down manually, so most of our work was spent manually trying to figure out the physics of the angle we needed to make a hook that would apply enough pressure to lift the lock.

It was all very complicated. BUT. WE. DID IT!!! Without arguing or getting annoyed with each other. We’ve SO got this “being married” thing down.

TEN. I have officially been dubbed The Evil Galactic Babysitter from the planet Ookgukshuknar7DANGEROUS.

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At least, that’s what I’ve been told by a quartet of boys who belong to my pastors.

I’ll be honest: I don’t know how to play with boys. I did not grow up with any, at all. I like superhero movies, and that’s about it. So, during Spring Break, I have been responsible for entertaining 3 Calvins + a Hobbes, and “superhero movie” is exactly what happens. I make them dress up in costumes a la Iron Man and Wolverine, and then I film them attacking each other on my iPhone. Sometimes, they make me the villain. All the times, they can’t wait  to see themselves on the screen.

I hear things. Strange, strange things.

“But I’m ALLERGIC to water! I’m the only person in the world who will die if I drink it!”
“This might sound weird but…my wife is bigger than me.”
“Lie of the liger, sing lie of the liger!” “Sing Eye of the Tiger?” “YEAH LIE OF THE LIGER!!!!!”

But on Tuesday, my strength of character was tested beyond anything I have EVER faced:

I. BUILT. A. SAFARI. JEEP.

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They coloured it, I put on the Lion King soundtrack to psych myself up, and then I cut all the pieces out and somehow attached each piece together like a 3-D puzzle of torture with NO instructions – just the help of the oldest boy. And THEN I let them bring up all their stuffies, and they created houses out of lamps and bookshelves and blankets for each one of them because when you go on African Safari, you don’t just go on African Safari — YOU GO ON AFRICAN SAFARI. WITH ELTON JOHN. AND SIMBA AND TIMON AND PUMBAA. AND YOU TALK ABOUT MUFASA’S DEATH BECAUSE IT STILL HURTS YOU INSIDE AND YOU FIELD QUESTIONS LIKE, “IF MUFASA WENT TO HEAVEN WHEN HE DIED, DID SCAR GO TO HELL WHEN HE DIED?” LIKE A PRO BECAUSE MUFASA TOLD YOU TO “REMEMBER WHO YOU ARE” AND YOU ARE THE Evil Galactic Babysitter from the planet Ookgukshuknar7DANGEROUS AND YOU CAN DO ANYTHING.

ELEVEN. I don’t mean to sound like an obnoxious hipster, but Jillette Johnson and Wakey!Wakey! are quite amazing, but maybe you’ve never heard of them.

Honestly, we’d never really heard of them either, but thanks to some awesome people named Kim & Kyle, we were treated to this concert at the Media Club in Vancouver.

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(Favourite Performances: Cameron, Creep, Peter Pan, True North — but all of it was amazing.)

After her show, I went up to her and said, “I sincerely hope that there is a baby in my tummy right now, just so that your concert can be the first concert they ever heard.” And then we shared a hug and a little tear and everything was magical.

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(Favourite Performances: War Sweater, Square Peg Round Hole & Almost Everything.)

Like, this music is all the Buttons are listening to lately, and our lives are so much better for it.

TWELVE. We have been invaded by ants, and nothing is okay.

I spent all day yesterday in downtown Vancouver, and last night I came home with takeout dinner to discover our house has been turned upside down by none other than Steve and his dad.

Now, let me back up for a sec.

We’ve had weird things happen in our house before. That’s because it’s basically a two-car garage that was converted into a living space, and its entire legality has not been verified.

When I say “converted”, I say it in the sense like, “Yes, he found the Lord, but every once in awhile, on a bad day, he’ll go back down to the street corner to get another hit of that sweet, sweet crack cocaine because nobody’s perfect.”

Sometimes, the roof leaks when it rains really hard. After we were away for 2 weeks during Christmas holidays, we came home to find a snail living in our couch, and he’d made a journey worthy of Middle Earth in the meantime.

ImageAnd now, apparently, the ants have found a hole in our wall. Steve first noticed them when Walter started doing the Macarena, the Nae-Nae AND the Harlem Shake in an attempt to get them off of him. (No, Steve did not film this for me, because obviously HE does not want us to be internet famous!!! *weeps* )
Everything that was on the floor is off the floor, nothing is in its proper place, and I feel a little lost. (I guess that basically describes an actual garage.) As I’ve sat here typing in the past two hours, I’ve had to squish TWO ants that thought it would be okay to waltz across my computer screen.

The upside?  Our motivation for Spring Cleaning has been super, super, SUPER re-located.

So there you have it. March 2014, and my 100th blogging post. It’s been a pretty good time.

I’m so ready for blossoms and camping and being Aretha and some life-changing Spring. What are you ready for?

“Sunshine is delicious, rain is refreshing, wind braces us up, snow is exhilarating; there is really no such thing as bad weather, only different kinds of good weather.” — John Ruskin.

The Hobbit: The Desolation of Steve

On Tuesday,  Miss Aussome made a list of 21 Things She Irrationally Loved, and one of them was “to quote The Lord of the Rings whenever she was late somewhere.”  Well, I’m not quite ready to make my own “21 Things” post, but using LOTR for real life is definitely what’s happening this week.

I’ve always thought of my husband as my very own personal Hobbit. He’s on the petite side, with slightly fuzzy stub feet. He loves food, and the comforts of staying at home — but enjoys the thrill of adventure every once in awhile.

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And since last Thursday, he’s been a little emotional.

It all started a week ago, when a crown and half a rotten tooth inside it decided to fall out of his face. He’d had it taken care of in 1998, but unfortunately, last December’s x-rays could not determine the status of the tooth inside the cap. I had a picture, but I won’t do that to you. Just imagine some black rot chunks hanging out in your mouth until the dentist can squeeze you in to get the rest of the root pulled out.
Steve, bless his soul, despises the dentist more than anything. I think he would change poopy diapers every day if it meant he never had to go to the dentist ever again. And, before he married me, he managed to get away with not going to the dentist for 14 years. Being in Canada and being self-employed means that when it comes to dental insurance, other priorities take over.

Like being bad-ass instead.

Last Thursday, the surgery was finally able to take place, and since then, everything has been terrible.

First, there was, you know, SURGERY.

 

And then having a frozen face with bloody, saliva-infested gauze chillin in his mouth.

 

And then soup FOR DAYS.

And then CANKER SORES in the cheek directly making contact with the battle wound every time he breathes.

So of course, he needs comfort, and rest, and patience, and compassion and I’m just like

The bitterness of mortality indeed.

But I’ve bucked up, made all the meals, washed all the laundry, cleaned all the things for a straight week now, by myself, because he’s not supposed to “get his heart rate up.” I even made him Cinnamon Toast Crunch muffins, because they’re soft and warm and easily freezable if necessary.

Yes, these are a real thing. And they’re f***ing amazing.

When I brought to him a fresh-out-of-the-oven muffin, he took one bite and I kid you not: tears filled his eyes, goosebumps rose on his arms, and he smiled for the first time in 3 days. He was so happy. Jokingly I said, “Based on your reaction, am I to gather that these muffins are better than sex?”

Then HE says: “…maaaaybe?”

Now you have to understand, that BEFORE he had to deal with all of this, I made him one of my best chocolate cake recipes, sans quinoa, and half of it is still sitting in my only cake pan. So, dude’s got lots of soft treats to comfort him that I normally would try to monitor. So when we demolished the muffins a couple days later, Steve asked for fresh brownies. But I had already checked the chocolate cake, and it was definitely still edible. Chocolatey, moist, pretty much a brownie, right?

Wrong.

BAH-ROW-NEES.

This exchange has continued AND escalated in the past few days, all the while the cake sits uneaten and the brownies unmade. The hobbit has now had his stitches removed, leaving behind a gaping hole and a canker sore roughly the same size. The Motrin is almost gone, we’re running low on salt due to mouth cleansing exercises, and still we argue.

He has tried to bribe me with unexpected sexual favours AND a shiny new cake pan.

According to him, this will be his fate:

“If only I had made him brownies like he asked me to.”

And I’m just like “Hey, let’s try to keep the REST of your teeth inside your head for a bit.”

I’m sure things will calm down eventually. He’ll go back to work tomorrow, and I’ll have a day to relax before I babysit 4 boys under the age of 10 for 8 hours. I’ve had some good practice this week, and after all, I AM NO MAN.

Becoming a Foodie (Without Making My Husband Hate Me)

Disclaimer: Strange, exposing stories AND photos of myself lie ahead. If you think of me and think “Yeah, no, I wouldn’t care to be seen with her at the beach”, then don’t look. To everyone else, I honestly don’t care.

Ah, food. A thing I literally can’t live without.

My relationship to food has always been somewhat of a love/hate with a splash of Stockholm syndrome. As a kid, there were things I loved…

Chicken strips, chicken nuggets…basically any kind of bready chicken that could only be enhanced by ranch dressing.

…things I hated….

Don’t even wanna put up a picture of mushrooms.

…and things I grew to love against my will, because at my mom’s table [read: restaurant because ain’t nobody got time to cook] if you complained, you got nothing.

Which I really enjoy now. #stockholm’d

Which I was given for breakfast almost every morning and despised so much that I sat my butt in my bowl “accidentally” one day, so that I wouldn’t have to eat it. This was a two-for-one deal, since I got to change my pants…that I also hated. Was I a bad child?

As I grew older, the concept of food became weirder and weirder. Due to the approaching Apocalypse, Mom took me to Costco every couple of months so we could load up another wagon with bags of rice and beans we never cooked, garden seeds we never planted, and flats of non-perishable items we never cracked open. It all sat in a barn, stacked to the ceiling, for 4 years, wasted and ravaged by squirrels. We tried drying our own fruit by spending hours coring and slicing up apples, and then looping each piece onto strings that hung across our ceiling in the kitchen. They hung there for at least a year, gathering layers of dust and smoke before we even remembered they were there.

This food that I thought was so important had absolutely no meaning to me at all.

Then came the fight-for-my-life days. With my carefully hoarded (and somewhat illegally obtained) house cleaning and babysitting money, I lived off of the Dollar Store aisles and the kindness of other people for 3 years.

Food was essential, and I burned through it like water; this stick of a girl with a J-lo butt, just trying to survive. The rest of my womanly shape didn’t start developing until I was at least 24, coincidentally, when I started dating Steve. He took good care of me, and still does; I’ve never wanted for anything.

Things started to go a little downhill from there. I spent 3 1/2 weeks in Europe, consuming glorious bread and cheese wherever I went, thinking that my calorie-burning metabolism would carry me through.

And then my body was like, “HAHA! PSYCH!!! You’re gonna MOVE to a new city, and you’re gonna get MARRIED, and he’s gonna be allergic to EVERYTHING, and I’m just dying to take on all the stress you’re gonna feel!!!!!”

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March 2011, trying on a dress in Le Chateau that was to. die. for. (130lbs.)

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Last summer, in a bikini NO ONE over the age of 15 should be wearing.

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This morning. Probably about the same weight as last summer, if I’m honest, but I think I look (and feel) healthier here.

 

I know I’m not obese, per se, but I have felt extremely unbalanced, to the point where I almost don’t love food anymore.

And that sounds like a tragedy.

So we’re going to change it. Steven and I are going on a food adventure!

Since most of my cookbooks are so 1996, I’m looking to the Internet for some tasty recipes that are as gluten-wheat-dairy-nut-soy-rice-garlic-lentil free as possible for the man (Sorry, honey, sugar sandwiches from your mom don’t actually count) and as healthy/balanced as possible for myself.

And because I’m still me, I think I’ll start with this.

Has anyone else out there battled with food, allergies, self-esteem or Apocalypse-themed Costco trips? I wanna hear about it.

PS: BAHAHA I was literally going to end the post there, and then my husband walked in with a bag full of Wendy’s. Clearly, we’re still packing for the adventure. 😉

Why I Don’t Hate the Oscars

Coming at you LIVE from the brown carpet…

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Also from the brown couch…and brown coffee table…and brown pretzel sticks…

I’m Carly Hutton…

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I’m wearing a unique blend of thrift store/lost & found bin. Don’t be jealous.

…and we take this whole Oscars thing very seriously.

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It’s pretty much our Superbowl.

I know that some people out there HATE awards shows with the fiery passion of a thousand burning suns, and they are entitled to that. And yes, there are more important things going on in World News. There is still corruption, poverty, people dying in the streets, and it sucks. Yet even the strongest Oscar-hater has to admit that EVERY single Best Picture nominee was a film that had something important to say about humanity, history, and where we’re going. And we need that.

Mostly, that’s what I love. It’s not necessarily the dresses, the celebrities, the drama – it’s the stories. They’re all being told, and I’m making my own at the same time. And if you think I haven’t fantasized about turning my life into a book, which then becomes a mini-series or at the very least a movie, which then garners me all kinds of appreciation, which then leads to me hanging out with Jennifer Lawrence, well then, you’d…probably…probably totally be right.

I mean, it *would* be incredibly therapeutic.

The truth is: yes, it’s probably a lot of misused money + some narcissistic, privileged celebrities + a political popularity contest — but I don’t know what’s true and what’s not, therefore I can’t focus on it. I mean, last week, I tried to watch AND understand the first 2 episodes of House of Cards and my brain nearly exploded. I present to you:

CARLY’S LEFT SIDE BRAIN.

Maybe that’s something I should be ashamed of, or work on. My right-side brain feels lonely sometimes. But that doesn’t mean Baby can’t appreciate the beauty of the Arts, darling.

So, while not everything was 100% perfect, I also know that some really good things happened at the Oscars last night, and I’d like to talk about them. I will be including my live-tweets-on-Facebook, cause I’m a rule-breaker.

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I have asked, and so far, the Internet has NOT answered. WHERE IS MY JONAH HILL/LEONARDO DICAPRIO MEME?!?!?!?!?

Ellen. Makes. People. Happy. And ain’t NOTHIN’ wrong with that.

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I wonder how long I will hold out before I get the app that lets me put my own face in this picture too.

Otherwise known as the selfie that broke the Internet.

Pizza. She ordered real pizza.

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“Did I miss anything?” — after the beautiful, tear-jerking tribute to The Wizard of Oz. BT-dubs, how are people JUST now figuring out that P!nk is an incredible singer and performer?! *cannot compute*

Favourite conversation: “My entire newsfeed is your play-by-play on the Oscars. Are you alone? Is Steve refusing to engage you in conversation?…I was picturing you all alone with a Steve pillow, talking away, and then being like, Oh hell, you’re terrible company! I’m talking to the Internet!”

Empowered Women:

“To the people still foolishly clinging to the idea that female-centered films are a niche experience – they are NOT, audiences want to see them and in fact, they do make money. The WORLD is ROUND, people!” — Cate Blanchett, Best Actress nominee and winner for Blue Jasmine.

“No matter where you are from…your dreams are valid.” — Lupita Nyong’o, Best Supporting Actress nominee and winner for 12 Years a Slave.

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“I sing because I’m happy, I sing because I’m free! His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.” — Darlene Love sings her feelings about winning Best Documentary Feature, 20 Feet From Stardom.

Humble Men:

From praising his hard-working single mom to saluting AIDS survivors and victims, to praying for the Ukraine & Venezuela, huzzah. (Jared Leto, Best Supporting Actor nominee and winner for Dallas Buyers Club.)

ImageFavourite conversation: “It’s too bad he’s so ugly, hey? NOT.”
“And 42 years old? I call witchcraft.”
“He’s 42?????? Whhhhhaaaattttt?????”

From picturing his dad dancing in his underwear in Heaven, to singling God and his family out for every good thing in his life, to totally redeeming himself from “Ghosts of Girlfriends Past” and “Fool’s Gold.” *all the tears* (Matthew McConaughey, Best Actor nominee and winner for Dallas Buyers Club.)

ImageAnd while it would have been great for Leo to finally win an Oscar, I really think that if he had (combined with the Ellen selfie), it would have sent our beloved Internet back to the stone age with all.the.breakage. #LeoFTW2015.

Food Can Change Everything.

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Bono is stunning live, and this song features the most profound chorus I’ve heard in a long time. And it’s about Nelson Mandela. So there’s that.

Favourite conversation: “I got stuck reading this at microwave cheeseburgers???”
“One day, when we have kids, we’ll take real food more seriously.”

Just When You Think Everything Is Going Great, Tragedy May Strike.

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YUSSSSSSS.

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NOOOOOOOOOOO.

**Sidenote: I heard that John Travolta is very dyslexic, so if that’s true, I have (low) hopes that social media will lay off soon.

…am I in Heaven?…

Despite being misnomered, and her band majorly messing with the timing of EVERYTHING, my angel prevailed and got this song an OSCAR!


When Life Gets Ya Down, You Can Never Go Wrong With a Harry Potter Reference.

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“I will go down with this ship….”

Mexicans Are The Shiiiiiiiiit.

ImageImageAnd now it’s over again. My belly is full of SO MANY BAD THINGS, I have a Very Important List of Movies To Watch, and my Internet Welcome has been Overstayed.

Keep telling your stories,

Carly xo