PART TWO - The Halifax Crafters Market/"Clean Spoons"

So it's been like three days since I had that lemonade, and I feel a mixture of "over it"/"could use a glass right about now". Like Miley Cyrus says on the last track of her "Miley Cyrus and her Dead Petz" album: "What does it mean? What does it mean? What does it mean?" The answer, in this instance, being: "Nobody cares. Nobody cares. Nobody cares." 

"Ex-squeeze me? Baking Powder?"

After downing my glorified citrus water, I made a quick stop at a soap booth. It had a pretty straight forward presentation going on; there were some shelves, and the soaps which the chick had made (or so she says...) had been displayed in an attractive manner. Or maybe it was just a "regular" manner. It's not like she had dumped them into a pile on the table and been like "Perrrrfect". They were spread out carefully and deliberately. Maybe to "showcase" them in a desirable way, maybe to satisfy OCD tendencies, who knows. But now that I am thinking about it, I'm starting to like the idea of a "dumb, unorganized heap" look. Yeah, I believe that would have been a welcomed twist. It takes a lot of confidence to do absolutely zero set-up at a craft fair, or any fair for that matter, and a "like it or lump it" attitude can only mean that a product is so good that nobody has to do shit to sell it because it sells itself. That, or it means someone is lazy and they suck. Probably something I would have to decide on a case by case basis, but an interesting spin none the less.

Sadly, there was no "favorite imaginary mess". Her area was pleasant, and I was happy to have found it. I like homemade soaps because they're cheap and who cares/whatever, which happen to be the only two pre-requisites that must be met before I commit to any purchase. I asked the girl with the glasses how much they were (aren't they all "the girl with the glasses" these days? I know I am, and I don't even have a prescription). "Six dollars," she said. Awesome. She cleared that hurdle with a bit of height to spare (I would have also accepted "7 dollars"), and I hoped she could keep it up as I continued on to my next questions. She didn't. Instead, she and I got all tangled up in the following exchange, and before I knew it we were in a non-consensual discussion about my breakout:

Me: "So are any of these for like, face washing?"

Girl: "Yeah, this one here. It has charcoal, blah, blah, blah..."

Me: "Oh, neat, and is it good for..."

Girl: "Acne? Yes."

Me: "..."

Me (again): see video clip

Woah. I think Jerry summed it up perfectly in one of Seinfeld's nightclub intros when he said, "Cut, cut, cut, cut, cut, that's not gonna work at all." You see, I was going to say "sensitive skin", but my friend here judged my book by its cover-up, and went there. She was doing that thing creative types sometimes do so well: making normal people really uncomfortable through a series of way too honest and unfiltered observations. As soon as the "A-word" was out of her mouth, I began to feel myself move through all the stages of unexpected embarrassment:

Here's a tip - never ever draw attention to someone's bad skin day.  It's about as bad a SNAFU as misidentified sausage poisoning (otherwise known as "asking a woman who isn't pregnant about her pregnancy"). If there is something going on with my face, I am usually the first to know. Like I said, my glasses don't even need the glass parts! I can see! I am aware! Here's the good thing, though, and I mean this - this girl (unbeknownst to her) has given me a great story. I really like her for that. I know she didn't mean anything by jumping the gun and assuming I wanted to talk about "pizza face". One of her friends mentioned that she gets asked about acne-prone skin all the time, so it totally makes sense. Still, it was what it was, and every time I think of it I die. In a good way, because to me, it's amazing. Sometimes really painful moments turn into really funny moments upon further examination, and now when I think of this awkwardness, I wouldn't have it any other way. I wish I would have gone back and told her my version of our conversation, and how I am now almost certain it's going to end up being the highlight of my month. Maybe she would have laughed? Or maybe she would have stared blankly at me with that "evil intellectualism" these artsy types sometimes pour on ya. I'll never know. (Oh - and P.S.- the soap is "fleek". Will buy again. And again. And again.)

"Clean Spoons"

Speaking of highlights of the month, there was another contender that occurred within the confines of the Olympic Centre last weekend. While looking at some pottery at the end of our rounds, a dude (Cherakee - might have been your broseph-in-law?) noticed something "funny" going on with little Hayley Parsons' mug. You see, the crafters market has coffee you dispense yourself, and they also have clean cups for everyone to use. The evidence also suggests they used to have clean spoons, too. That is until apparently (as the guy pointed out) Hayley swiped that mug mistakenly to serve as her "cup of joe", leaving all other patrons with only a "dirty spoons" selection. The guy was losing it after we confirmed that yes, that was exactly what happened, and so were we. Hayley was majorly hungover that day, and it was a classic hangover move, as hangovers rarely read and have little to no attention to detail. I was and still am so glad this didn't go unnoticed because it's the kind of gift that keeps on giving (in the form of Hayley's new nickname: "Clean Spoons"). 

Move over General Hospital, there's a new soap in town...

Like I said, my purchase (although a bit prickly) was a success. Me love the soap, and even though it's not a snack, it still deserves a Harvey's rating. A good one at that - 9/Harvey's - for the laughs and the product itself. 

Oh, for crying out loud. I almost forgot the real snack that I had - Lure Caramel Co. toffee. Holy shiza. This stuff it addictive. It was like Hanson's first album was playing in my mouth, and no one is telling me to turn it down/off. What makes it even more incroyable is that the fact that it is hand-made! By Kate Melvin! I cannot wait to go to Lure in Indian Harbour and make myself sick! Just ask Natalie how fast I eat at a chocolate shop! Yum! Thanks, Kate! Harvey's out of Harvey's! And now that that's all wrapped up in a nice wordy bow, I am going to peace out and make lunch. It's almost 2:30 for god sakes, and I still haven't made any of my daily cheese-based meals! Pull it together, Tuesday! Is it Tuesday? I never know what day it is...

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PART ONE - The Halifax Crafters Market/If this was an album dropping, it would be called "I'm Getting On The Horn"...

I made fun of Beyoncé yesterday on Facebook and everyone's mad at me. ANYWAY... if you were in the city this weekend, you probably took a bunch of fliff-notes out of your bank account and stopped into the Halifax Crafters Market. The Halifax Crafters Market is where (mostly) way too talented people try to cash in their brainchildren for (mostly) way too few dollars. That's right. There were some D-E-A-L-S carving out property at this little pop-up fair. I am talking, of course, about cousin Rachael's coloring books (which are basically being given away for 15$), as well as her original hand-painted totes, apparel, greeting cards, and prints. What I am not, I repeat, not talking about the five-dollar cup of lemonade my "hangover self" (who always gold-digs my "regular self") forced me into buying. Sadly, not at all. 

Before you start asking yourself what my problem is with lemonade everything, please keep in mind I'm not trying to wage war on the cool cats (How does the old saying go? "Every time someone says 'I don't believe in hipsters' somebody sends back a fish taco at Lion and Bright"?). We all know you can't please everyone, and what is perhaps even more important to remember is that everyone can't please me. It's not anyone's fault, except probably mine, so offense need not be taken. On that note...

$2.00 too many...

I once complained (via email) to Maynards about a 
package of Sour Patch Kids I bought in the New Orleans Airport. As I pounded away on my keyboard, I discussed how my candies seemed "damp" and that it "didn't matter if they only cost a dollar" because "it wasn't about the price, it was about standards." Although I am sure that statement rings true for a lot of people, it doesn't for me. I polished off the whole bag sour-y sweetness before I could even hit send. Because of course I was still going to eat them, a little wet around the edges or not. Standards, As if. The truth is it's always about the money and within two weeks I had a cheque in the mail for a cool $1.49. Cha-ching. 

The point of my story is to demonstrate my history of being "cost sensitive". Five dollars for a cup of lemonade is too much. I should have just asked for the lemons instead. It may not have necessarily been more "bang for my buck", but at least it would have been "bang". I had to play along, though. The dog and pony act had me right where they wanted me and they knew it. Must've been my eyeballs doing their best impression of really thirsty red grapes that gave me away, but, if wasn't those two face raisins, then it had to have been the smell of last night's booze naturally off-gassing from my pores. Either way, they were waving liquids around in front of a vulnerable Saturday morning liquor zombie, so obviously they had my attention (which gives me an idea for an alternative album name: "Desperation Hydration: Struggles of a Waterless Parched Person").


Becky with the good hair...

They had some choices in the "flavor" department, so I decided to go with "SeaBerry" (or as I like to refer to it now, "Really?"). I watched one of the gals pump a squirt (ew - "pump a squirt" - no!) into my cup and then start cranking on the old-school-machine-squasher. Judging from the progress they weren't making, it was clear that some sort of short-cut would need to be taken soon, otherwise, I would have had to go back the following day to collect my drink. And take a short cut they did, because after about the second lemon they began topping off filling up my bevvie with water. A lot of it. 

All that water got me thinking: What am I paying for? The manual labor? The physical exertion of bringing the arm upwards and downwards for a maximum of twice times? I felt like some fool throwing bills around so two roommates could make money while they figure out how their hilariously expensive and so obviously unnecessary 16-piece vegan-metal hand-juicer works. (#FiveDollarsFiveDollarsFiveDollars) 

Watching them reminded me of when I was a teenager and used to carry around a little lantern with a lit candle inside to "get around in the dark". In my house. I could have turned on the lights, but I wanted to use the lantern because I thought it was cool, and even more so because I wanted everyone else to think it was cool. They didn't, and I retired that habit fairly quickly once I realized it wasn't catching on. It wasn't very practical anyway, ya know, and neither is the jig they pulled down at the Crafters Market. And on top of the "Why even?"-ness of it all, I just realized while writing this that lemonade isn't even a craft! It had about as much business being there as I have in complaining online about something I actually enjoyed - none! Jokes on me, though, because all arbitrary and unasked-for observations aside, I did buy the lemonade. And that can only mean one thing - the hipsters won Saturday. 

This whole post is essentially just one long tug on a couple of strangers' chains and is built upon only two facts - one being that the lemonade was damn delicious and the second being that I am a cheapskate. Which is why I give the price of the thirst quencher a 3/Harvey's ("three" being the amount of loonies I believe it should have cost) and the taste a 9/Harvey's because I love lemonade. I'm serious. I love it.

This isn't the end...

I have more on my experience at the HFX Crafters Market coming up later tonight, (#cleanspoons and #soap), so prepare for my usual flooding of your newsfeeds! And remember I am still campaigning for me, myself and I.  If you can, please share this link! If you want, please follow me on Twitter! And, if you haven't already, like my page on Facebook! 

                                                          

If you want updates from "The Regular Food Critic", along with book news, 
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Planet Organic (or as they like to be called - Organic Earth): Vegan Cookies - can they really make up for your "Car Licorice"?

This is a fast and furious review (not to be confused with a review of "The Fast and the Furious". We don't "allow" that sort of "garbage" on here). It's going to be unfussy, and just the way I like my morning baths - quick and dirty. Actually, I don't know if you could technically call what I do in the tub a "bath", per se. It's actually more of a sterilization session if anything, where the water is scalding, and the traditional "scrubbing" is... minimal. But it all does go down "in the bath", and I think that may be the only criteria in order to constitute a bath being taken. So, yeah. The hell with it. Let's call them my "morning baths".

Anyway, apart from my body's entire disinfection via submersion into what is essentially a boiling porcelain cauldron, I have a few other rituals that I find help jumpstart my day and my version of daily productivity. Using the bathroom is one of them, but it's so hard to capture that whole scene with only words. It's the kind of experience that needs to be filmed in order to really be felt, but since we still live in a world where videotaping one's self in the middle of toilet-time is considered "taboo", or "disgusting, or an "audition for Two Girls One Cup", I can't really take the leap and publish one here. I can, however, go over the more "vanilla" details of my routine, beginning with (and really, ending with) getting coffee from Planet Organic. Sorry. Organic Earth. Jesus.

As my readers should by now be aware, I only drink espresso-based coffee drinks. What can I say, it's the L.A. in me (for the record I have never been to, or know anyone who has been to, LA.). To be more specific though, I tend to lean towards either Mochaccinos or Caffé Mochas. What is the difference you ask? Ask somebody else. I'm too embarrassed to admit my not knowing by having to pose that question to any barista, so I don't have the answer and it's safe to assume I never will. Now, I used to go to Java Blend everyday fir my fix, but the problem with JB is that it is really popular for coffee pickups. This means you can almost guarantee on running into somebody you know, somebody you kind of know, or the worst of all the offenses, somebody you barely know, while you're there. It really is murder having only seconds to decide how or if to acknowledge someone (Do I wave? Does this person even remember me? Do they think I should say "Hi"? Do people nod at one another anymore? Do any of these coffees come with a gun so I can just put myself out of my misery right here, right now?) and if it can be avoided, then you better believe I avoid it.

Needless to say I had to find a substitute coffee haunt, and since for the longest time I vowed never to return to Pro Skate because of my pride and inclination to be disproportionally embarassed (I'm obviously exaggerating and love Pro and the peeps there- Hi Chantal!) I tested the waters at Organic Earth. And that is where I found myself this morning, with Hayley Parsons, ordering my stupid drink and getting two of my little favorites - the vegan cookie and the peanut butter ball.

I am not vegan if that's what some of my posts have suggested. I know me saying that implies that I think of the term as some sort of cruel accusation, but I don't. I'm just not. Even if I try to tell you I am when I'm drinking, I'm still not. I do like vegan food, though. A lot, and since vegans so desperately want the rest of us to hop aboard the canola-oil-powered vegan train, they make it a point to ensure their meal alternatives are f'ing amazing. Case in point: this vegan cookie you see on your right.

Okay. I forgot to take a photo of this before I started eating it. This cookie is only $2.50, maybe. I forget. Point is, it's so freaking good. They're big too, and dense as hell. As you cannot really see, there are seeds in there, there are chocolate chips, and there is a lot of brown (in other words check, check, check). I like to have this little bugger first thing in the morning to make up for my even more "first thing in the morning" snack - my car licorice. Car licorice is licorice you keep in your car to eat while you're on your way to get your "real" breakfast. It's yummy, often frozen, and really terrible for you. But like I said, you throw back a couple a vegan anythings after two or three Twizzlers, and everything kind of just sorts itself out. I'm sure of it.

To even further satisfy my sweet teeth, I like to grab a classic peanut butter ball. This one goes down fast, and since I want to save it for later, you won't be getting a good look at it. Though, I did take the time to set up a really stunning photo, incorporating such props as a mirror and natural light streaming in through a window. I tell you, it was quite a scene. I could barely get through this shoot without tearing up at the raw beauty of it all. The peanut butter ball is however much money, and is a gift from god. If you haven't had one, go buy one now. If you want to buy two, then buy two. And so on, and so on, and so on.

The coffee at this place is good. I think it's Java Blend so I mean, yeah, it is what it is. There is a super nice chick who works behind the counter with glasses and she is cheery up the wazoo. The debit machine can sometimes be a sticky wicket, but no need to be a dick about that. It's just a touchy piece of shit and that's life. The only reason it bothers me so much is because I have to hang onto it longer when it's screwing itself up. Hanging on means exposing my horribly hang-nailed thumbs to whoever is working. They are not a pretty sight, and it gives me anxiety thinking about the level of disgust that is being experienced by whoever lays eyes on them.


Anyway, that's about it. Organic Earth is pretty solid (though the groceries are hella-expensive) and I give their café a 6 out of Harvey's because that's the first number that came to my head, and my Mom always said when you're writing a multiple choice exam, you gotta go with your gut. She wasn't necessarily generous with the advice, so I have been forced to apply that to basically everything life hands to me. (Just kidding, she also told me that "There's more to life than just partying"...)

I leave you on this fine Tuesday afternoon with some killer dance moves performed by myself, dressed up as my alter-ego, 17-year-old male rapping/dance battling sensation Jonathan Mosher. This one is for the girls.

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