A list of things that have been extremely significant in 2008

(In related news, my favourite songs of 2008 are here)

Mascara

It all started last Christmas, in the airport, when, as a result of a mad, irrational panic attack I decided to buy an overpriced tube of bright blue Diorshow at Duty Free.  Well, friends, it has changed my life.  I can’t leave the house without mascara because, well, why would I want to?  It basically just makes my entire face awesomer.  While the original tube of Diorshow has bitten the bullet (ladies:  toss your mascara after six months!  That shit expires and then gives you gross eye infections, which I learned the hard way, when I tried to stretch my Diorshow to last just a little longer, resulting in the Great Stye Epidemic of April 2008), I have now acquired a vast collection of mascaras in various colours, the most recent of which is my super-awesome Bad Gal Plum that I got the other day and is so much better than anything in the world.  Also, I really appreciate that the brush is the size of a large caterpillar.  I had to pick up some shitty drugstore mascara this summer when I’d accidentally forgotten my entire toiletry bag and was traveling around and it was the worst thing ever because the brush was the size of a q-tip.  Apparently once you go the way of fancy makeup, there’s no turning back.

Related obsessions: You Rebel tinted moisturizer (this is the only thing I need to put on my face!  It’s moisturizer and sunblock and it’s tinted so it works like foundation!  It does everything!), Urban Decay Eyeshadow Primer Potion (just AMAZING).

Preditictions for 2009: I will become obsessed with lipstick.  I have never owned a proper red lipstick and I want to.  I need to.  It will happen.

Having a roommate

Don’t get me wrong, I really like living alone.  I’m really good at it.  I really like having space and being independent and not having to deal with other people when I don’t want to.  But I think I reached a point where it just wasn’t healthy anymore and coming home to my tiny little studio apartment was becoming a source of despair.  I think living alone is really good for a while, but I think I need cycles of aloneness and not-aloneness, and the time had come.  My previous roommate situations had always been kinda shitty (Exhibit A:  my first-year roommate who was studying financial mathematics and who informed me that her goal in life was to be on the cover of Forbes; Exhibit B:  having my ex as a roommate for three awkward years), but now I have possibly the best roommate ever.  My roommate is awesome.  And I think we’re both just good at respecting each others’ space, so it’s like I have all the good parts of living alone without the accompanying despair.  And we share things!  And we cook together!  And we decorated our apartment and it’s lovely!  And we have friends!  Friends who come over for food and games almost every week!  And it’s just really good to have someone around who likes me and will watch Lois and Clark with me and who lets me hang giant framed portraits of Barbarella in the living room.

Predictions for 2009: We will not get any work done because my roommate, in his awesomeness, has bought all of Star Trek:  The Next Generation and Deep Space Nine on DVD (and I have a crush on Benjamin Sisko.  There’s just something about men with exceptionally good diction, I don’t know).

Boys

What a fascinating year it has been on the boy front.  Fascinating, fascinating.  In an unprecedented way.  There was laughter (the stand up comedian/game show champion!), there were tears (Jimmy, who may have actually broken my heart for a day or two), there was so much angsty drinking, and now there have been vows of celibacy (and this time I actually took down my online dating profile, which means I’m actually serious about giving up).  I’ve started a spreadsheet, in which I included the name of every boy I’ve gone on a date with, time and location of said date, and reasons why there have been no subsequent dates.  I’m not sure exactly what the purpose of such a spreadsheet is, but I just feel like it’s something kind of funny to have around.  I saved it on my computer as a document labeled “important tax information.” And now you know all of my secrets.

Predictions for 2009: No more boys.  Dorothy Parker is the only person who really understands.  I might get her face tattooed over my heart.

Fake Stuff

I love Los Angeles because everything in it is fake and hilarious.  My family was here last week, and my whirlwind tour of the city included the following stops:  Fake Mexico, Fake Venice, Fake China, and Fake Egypt.  I did not take them to Fake Redwood Forest, because I feel like probably they wouldn’t have appreciated it very much.  But we did go to Disneyland, which is Fake Planet Earth, but it was actually kind of horrible because of all of the thousands of children (but I cannot say enough about the Enchanted Tiki Room, which is truly the most magical place on earth.  Tanya was like, “it sounds like Clifton’s, only with horrible singing robot birds.”  YES EXACTLY.  Only it is better than Clifton’s because there is no food).  And it’s funny, because my love for vaguely offensive early to mid 20th century fakery manages to be both ironic and non-ironic at the same time.  There is the so-bad-its-good quality on one hand, but on the other hand, I just love how ridiculous and funny people are (and my love for Clifton’s is a case in point:  I just love that some dude was like “I KNOW!  I WILL MAKE MY CAFETERIA LOOK LIKE MY DREAM OF A REDWOOD FOREST,” and then fucking did it.  It is so awesome.  I love that guy.  I want him to do an extreme makeover on my apartment and make it look like Barbarella’s spaceship).

Predictions for 2009: I’m thinking of volunteering with the Los Angeles Conservancy.  You know, to help preserve all of the city’s glorious fakitude.  Also, somehow I want to become best friends with Charles Phoenix.  Oh, and I think we’re going to the Pasadena Doo Dah Parade this year, which is the Fake Rosebowl Parade.  OH!  And for my birthday, I have a grand day of fake fun planned, including:  a show at the Bob Baker Marionette Theatre; Lunch at Clifton’s; and there was a third thing.  It was really good.  I’ve forgotten what it is.  Probably it was Margaritas in a Pineapple at Really Fake Mexico, but almost that seems too predictable.  Maybe it was Dancing at That Place that I Always Go Past on the Bus That Has the Neon Sign that says “DANCING. COCKTAILS.” and That I’ve Wanted to Go To Because I’m Strangely Drawn to Places with Neon Signs that Say “DANCING.  COCKTAILS.”   Which isn’t exactly something fake, but somehow, it seems to fit in.

The Shangri-Las

Myrmidons of Melodrama is my album of the year.  I don’t care if it’s from the wrong decade.  Uh, century.  Shut up.

Predictions for 2009: Shangri-Las Reunion tour?  Or maybe I will just start a tribute band.

Elections

Two misses (Canadialand, Prop 8 ) and a hit (Barack Obama).  Honestly, I just hope that we never again have to deal with a Canadian election and a U.S. election at the same time.  All that electioneering just made me totally annoyed with everyone all the time and I would angrily spout off about what a dumbass Stephen Harper is to anyone who would listen and then just get angrier. And also there was the part where half of California turned out to be assholes.  That was the most fucking awful thing that could have happened.

Predictions for 2009: Canada will come to its senses and install Stephen Harper in an exceptionally cold and isolated igloo on Baffin Island where he can’t bother anyone anymore.

Ukuleles

For obvious reasons.

Predictions for 2009: I have signed up for a DJ mixing class!  I am going to combine ukuleles and DJing for something that will clearly equal awesomness.

Things I am going to accomplish in 2009:

- knit more

- stand up straighter

- go to the Apple Pan once a month

- become superstar DJ