Because I can’t get enough of myself, I’ve asked Cinammon Gurl to interro - I mean, interview me, and boy, she did a lovely job. See for yourself:
1. I'm pretty sure I've seen some indication on your blog that you enjoy a little hgtv now and then. If you could have anybody from a design show redo a room in your house, who would it be, which room and why?
It’s a sad, sad truth. My home decorating aspirations are much like my crafting aspirations. Half-baked and with questionable results. Case in point – Bee’s nursery, which, ha ha, by the way, she’s NEVER slept in, was started a generous 4 months before she was born. We sanded, painted, refinished old furniture, put together new furniture, and readied a beautiful chair-rail…. which sits in the basement workroom, warped by time and dampness. Nothing is on the walls and her super-cute pottery barn curtains hang by an unfinished dowel. Her crib is used for little more than storage of behemoth laundry piles. Shameful, I know.
So, to answer your question, I’d want someone to come in a finish her room, right? Or perhaps begin the laborious task of transforming our chocolate-brown office into the new baby’s nursery, right?
Sarah Richardson, come on over and give my 62-year old kitchen with the 20-year old linoleum floor and gawd-awful cheap-as-shit countertop a makeover! Booyah!
2. I'm totally stealing this from the person who interviewed Beck but it's such a great question, I can't resist... If you were stranded on a desert island, what book, cd, movie, drink and food would you bring?
More importantly, Cin, what island am I on? It’s warm, right? And it’s not really a desert island, is it? Because I don’t really like the feeling of sand in my yoni. But deserted I could handle, as long as I have Fall on Your Knees by Anne-Marie MacDonald to read, Dave Matthews Live at The Gorge to listen to, Say Anthing to watch, water to drink and bagels with cream cheese and fresh tomatos to eat.
3. If we got together for a cheesy dance movie marathon, which movies would you pick?
Dirty Dancing, Stomp the Yard and Bring It On, which counts, because cheerleaders are just dancers who’ve gone retarded.
4. Which quality of Chris's would you most like to a) see AND b) not see passed onto your children?
As long as they have his nose, I am a happy. No? Looking for more? Ok, then. Chris has an amazing ability to not judge and not be petty. He always sees the positive in people and is incredibly sensitive to other people’s feelings. What I mean is, he is nice. Genuinely nice. As opposed to me, who is kind of a bitch. I hope our children inherit this quality, because like some stupid bimbo on tv said, It’s nice to be important, but it’s more important to be nice.
And I’d be ok if his complete inability to make small-talk, beyond, ‘So, yeahhhhhhh,’ stops here.
5. What's the craziest or stupidest thing you've ever done?
Hmm. This is tough. Uh, no, not because I’m a sensible, responsible adult, but because I have done so many – SO many – crazy and stupid things. But they were all in the name of growing and learning, so I embrace them all. And I truly regret nothing. And I had a lot of fun.
But here’s an example – it is 1993 and I am hitchhiking from Nanaimo to Tofino with my bff. Our 3-hour journey has taken quite a while, not because it’s a shitty day to travel, but because the first ride we got was from a really cute guy in a v-dub bus and he and I hooked up and I wouldn’t continue on our journey for days. That’s how I met Lisalou (said boy’s ex!) so it was definitely a good move.
But that’s not the crazy or stupid part.
When I finally heed bff’s call to get the fuck on our way already, we hit the (side of the) road.
First ride – how bout 2 drunks in a pickup! Awesome. (btw – this crazy, stupid thing is also not the crazy or stupid thing I am alluding to.) They drop us off in Port Alberni to hit the bar (again.). We say a hail mary and hike up our thumbs, just wanting to get out of the redneck backwoods little corner of hades we were stuck in, where pretty much every car that passed had a yellow ribbon on it’s antennae, supporting the logging of the old growth rain forest – that we were heading up to to see before these rednecks tore it down. Where my sister had been arrested a year earlier for blocking said rednecks from getting their tree-death machines on the road. Ugh. Port Alberni. Ever been there? Lovely in the spring.
So anyway, we were desperate to leave, and nobody would pick up two hippies for a long time. Oh, and it was raining, because it never stops raining in Port Alberni.
Finally, FINALLY, a man pulls over. We ring out our shoes, get in and relax. Everything’s fine for about a half an hour, until the driver informs us that he’s going to pull off the road, into the bush, to check out some land he’s thinking of buying. Me and bff look at each other and try not to freak. A million things are running through our heads, not the least of which is Get the fuck out of the car!!!
(enter crazy and stupid)
But instead, we sit in panicked silence, each of us probably formulating a plan as to how we will get out of this or really, if in fact this will be the end of us. He can’t take us both, I am trying to convince myself, while digging in my backpack for anything I could use as a tool of self defense. The best I come up with is a pipe, and not like a ‘Col. Mustard in the Conservetory’ kind of pipe. So, ok, I’ll just get the guy really high, and distract him from his intention of raping and mutilating us and we can all laugh about how funny the word ‘Chillum’ is! Good plan!
Meanwhile, the car stops. He gets out. We get out. ‘It’s just down here,’ he says. Do we run? No. Why? Because we’re fucking stupid crazy idiots, of course. We are paralyzed by our youth and inexperience and, quite honestly, politeness, and no amount of after-school specials is going to change our inability to change this situation. And in the back of my mind, at least, this is my first trip away without the safety net of my boyfriend, first trip as kind of an adult, and I want to trust this guy. I want to believe that not everybody is a horrible, dangerous predator, regardless of how this scenario fits the profile.
So we follow the guy. To the top of hill. Where, just below is the most beautiful valley I’ve ever seen in my life. With a For Sale sign at the edge. We let our guard down and enjoy the view.
‘Do you girls mind heading back to the road on your own,’ Our killer asks, ‘I think I’d just like to sit here for a while.’
Our next ride is from a minister. We both fall asleep in the back of the car and wake up in the land of the big trees.
Oh lord. Don’t tell my mother about this one.
That was fun! And if any of you would like to be interviewed by me, let me know! I’ll get you good.