Keira-anne.com

…I used to be in Hanson and dress like Matthew McConaughey.

Thanks for providing me with an outlet with which I can not only make productive use of my time, but also to pimp the pups. Yes!

P.S. Sorry, Amy.

I can’t stop looking at this. Every time I’ve toggled to that page this morning while sitting at my desk, I’ve died a little on the inside.

I hate you, Internet Explorer. Everytime I blog with you, you squish my pictures and make me look schmucky. I should basically just always use my laptop, me thinks. (Translation: click each picture to see it in my Flickr stream, not looking schmucky.) Safari FTW.

Okay, so Lady Phae wanted to treat yours truly to a divine dinner at my absolute favourite spot. The first time I went to Boneta was on my birthday last year and I have been back a handful of times since.

We let the amazing men of Boneta pick wine for us, and so we had some Italian red vino. My friend Toni claims to be Italian red wine but I am not sure he’s as drinkable.

We had cheese. And crustinis. And cheese.

Normally I’m pretty lush-ous when drinking red wine, but for whatever reason I managed to remain pretty sober. The same cannot be said for my hot date. She’s charming.

“Boneta loves you.” It’s written all over their restaurant, literally and figuratively. We were treated like royalty, and at one point, one of the owners actually stabbed at one of the fresh, local strawberries with my fork and fed it to me.

Being that Jack popped my Pimm’s cherry on my birthday at Boneta, I decided Phaedra needed to do the same, so we capped off the evening with a Pimm’s-based cocktail of our own. Needless to say, it was a hit.

Just yesterday, Duane wrote a blog post that touched down on customer service. I agreed with his points in that I feel as though it’s largely a lost art. I am rather adept in the kitchen and know very well how to pick out a good bottle of wine to tote home, so when I go out for dinner, it’s the service and experience I am paying for.

At Boneta, phenomenal food, killer wine and service to knock your stillettos off are all guaranteed, all the time. Why else would my darling and I have gone two times already?

Thanks for a truly stellar date, Phaedra…

It’s probably been at least a 67 years since I last posted a link fest, so here you go, Tuesday. Here’s a link feast…

Photo: John Bollwitt on Flickr

P.S. I love my MacBook Pro

Since Tony didn’t feel like writing a review of Pineapple Express, I’m taking matters into my own hands. After a sunny-ish Sunday afternoon spent wandering up Robson Street with Jen, we decided to cap the afternoon off with a matinée.

Less than 30 minutes in, my initial thoughts were “awesome…I just spent $12 on a stoner comedy.”

Oh how wrong I was…

Photo: Sony Pictures

The film follows devout stoner, Dale Denton (Seth Rogan), and his dealer, Saul Silver (James Franco). The title of the movie itself reefers (very much intended) to a particular strain of marijuana that Dale and Saul fall head-over-heels for. It’s also what links them back to a murder of which Dale accidentally witnesses in his capacity as a process server. I think that means he’s a butler or something.

What begins under the guise of just another stoner flick, Pineapple Express ends up delivering so much more. It has memorable characters, lines that will certainly go down in pop culture cinematic history, more action than you can begin to expect - truly, and best of all: it’s funny. Really funny. There are more than a handful of instances in which you may not believe that what you just saw is what you really did see.

Photo: Sony Pictures

Truth be told, when Jen and I walked into the theatre, I was convinced that her and I were the only two that didn’t indulge in a smoke before the flick. And in saying that, some of the humour can probably only be truly appreciated by those who do smoke…particularly the lady in the front row who incessantly laughed her head off at all times, funny or not.

Don’t be fooled though. Pineapple Express is not a comedy to be missed. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if soon enough, people will flock to any and all Seth Rogan movies simply because it’s known that the flick will be great. Here’s just hoping he doesn’t crash and burn like Will Ferrell has in recent years.

Check out the film’s official trailer below and the website here.

Trust me.

So I bet you’re all dying to know how the rest of me and Jenny’s trip to Tofino turned out. Sure, I showed you all the stellar snaps from our afternoon of surfing, but what about the eats, the camping and the people?

By the time I got dropped off on Wednesday afternoon in Horseshoe Bay, my hair was a windblown mess, I was an hour early and the sun was optimistically shining for the first time that day. I had a bit of time before Jenny was to arrive, so I grabbed a ferry ticket and waited in the sunshine.

When you take the ferry as often as I do, it’s important to find ways to keep yourself occupied on the voyage. Being that we were to surf the next day, we opted to watch “Charlie’s Angels: Full Throttle” simply to catch the surfing scenes. Super lame of us, I know.

Mmm…Emmers.

It’s my ritual to stop at Woodgrove Centre’s food court for quick eats on weekends when I head home. Apparently the McDonald’s I had for lunch that afternoon wasn’t enough, so I opted for an A&W Teen Burger and onion rings. Then I’d had enough.

After a quick pack-up of my mom’s car (since there’s no way in hell my truck will make even one more trip to Tofino) and a too-short sleep, we pointed the wheels west along the Pacific Rim Highway. Once you leave Highway 1 near Qualicum Beach, it’s about 40 kilometres to Port Alberni and another 90 kilometres to Tofino.

We stopped in Port Alberni to grab some last minute supplies from their local Wal-Mart, and I have to pointedly say that, aside from the sweetheart of a store greeter, every single employee was oddly rude to us. Not impressed.

The rain started to fall as soon as we hit the Pacific Rim Highway, so we had a pretty good idea of the kind of day we were in for. Tofino is, after all, located in a rain forest.

At the end of a long and winding highway, we arrived at our campground only to find out that we had to wait until later in the afternoon to check in.

Maybe the campground’s local resident wasn’t finished with our site yet. Apparently he lives there all the time.

Jenny and I had time to kill before we were supposed to show up at Bruhwiler’s shop, so we headed into the heart of Tofino and walked around. This sign made me chuckle. Most signs like this in Vancouver would state a limit of about 1/16th the time.

We should’ve taken it from this guy and bought protective rain gear. Little did we know at the time…

Breakers Deli has wicked wraps, pizza, sandwiches, burritos and delicious baked goods. For lunch, I grabbed a chicken burrito with free range chicken, avocado, mango tamarin sauce, mozza cheese and organic greens while Jenny had the turkey and havarti cheese toasted sandwich.

Yours truly is becoming quite a little pro at that whole parallel parking thing. First try, every time.

Here’s where the fun begins…after our afternoon of surfing, Jenny and I were finally able to make our way back to the campsite and set up. The only problem was that the rain had started to come down even heavier, our clothes were soaking wet and cold and puddles were starting to form in our campsite. After a valiant effort, we managed to string up two tarps and pitch a tiny tent.

Not only was the set-up pathetic, after we’d finally showered and put on warm clothes, starting a fire was a lost cause. I did everything right and yet the wood still wouldn’t catch. Waving the white flag, we forgot about roasted wieners and drove back into town for fish and chips and hot tea. We ended up at Big Daddy’s Fish Fry and oh-my-god it was heaven sent.

By the time we arrived back at the campsite, it was almost 9pm and the rain had only kept on going so we decided to retire. Somewhere in the middle of the night, the precipitation decided to become a torrential downpour, and so by the time we woke up, the only thing left dry was our pajamas. It’s what we drove home in. Every other single item of clothing was soaked through and splashed with mud (except my Total Skull hoodie, which was smeared with blood since I somehow managed to rip my cuticle open while peeling off my wetsuit).

(I have to take a tangent here for a moment and say that I love how welcome dogs are in Tofino, and how much they’re a part of the community. Perhaps if some people in Vancouver were more diligent in cleaning up after their dogs, canines would be more welcome in the city too.)

After a quick stop in at Bruhwiler to thank Raph and grab some shop hoodies, Jenny and I hit Chesterman Beach one last time before our trek back to the east coast of Vancouver Island.

It seems like everyone had the same idea. The rain that fell in Tofino on the two days we were there was the first rainfall the community had seen in over a month. As we snaked our way back along the Pacific Rim Highway, we found ourselves part of a mass exodus of tourists who also had the same idea.

Not so long ago, I was discussing camping in general with one of my best friends and I stated how awesome it is. His idea of “camping” was finding a nice hotel in the woods, though I hugely disagreed at the time. However, after the two drenched and cold days I spent in the woods, I surrender and admit that he may be right. Perhaps I’m just over this whole “roughing it” thing.

Besides, just because you don’t have a campfire and just because you aren’t camping doesn’t mean you can’t indulge in some s’mores. Ahhh…toaster ovens. Bliss for my tongue.

As the first few waves of frigid, salty Pacific Ocean water crashed over my braided head, the only thing I could think was that surfing was better than sex. Really. It’s been close to a decade since I last set foot on a surfboard, and even then I was no good. This time I wanted to do it right and signed up for an afternoon session with Tofino’s legendary Bruhwiler Surf School [website]. While there are a handful of schools on Vancouver Island’s West Coast, it seems to me that the Bruhwiler crew teach simply for the reason that they want to share their passion and way of life with others.

It’s all about the love of the wave.

We arrived at the shop a bit early in time to sign in, and were happy to hear that our wetsuits were already loaded onto the truck for us - one of the many advantages of sending in your body specs by e-mail prior to arriving.

Raph Bruhwiler and Dave the Moustache Man (who gets props for wiping the snot off my face) were our instructors for the day, and I can truly say that both did a stellar job. After a quick 15 (or so) minutes of chat on the sand - including important safety rules and basic theory - we grabbed our boards and headed out. In the words of Johnny Castle: “the best place to learn really is in the water.”

Snaking is definitely not allowed. Catching a “double up” is also not recommended.

Jenny and I hoped to ride another day without instructors, but due to less-than-favourable weather (more about that in the next post), we were forced out of our campsite earlier than we’d hoped.

To say that I can’t wait to head out again would be the understatement of 2008. The boys of Bruhwiler were phenomenal teachers and the encouraging vibe in our small group gave me the get-up-and-go that I needed. After about half an hour in the waves, I was actually standing up on nearly every other wave that I caught, and the feeling was simply euphoric. Like I said, better than sex.

I’d like to catch one of Bruhwiler Surf School’s two-day Roxy surf camps next summer with some girlfriends (and I think they know who they are). To find more information on the sport, the instructors, rates and camps, visit Bruhwiler Surf School’s site by clicking their logo in my sidebar.

To view all the photos from our ultimate surfing experience, click on over to my Flickr.

Not long ago, I thought July 30 would never arrive. It seems, however, that is has. After weeks of planning, packing and mostly just anticipating, I’m slinging on my oversized backpack, grabbing my laptop and boarding the Coastal Renaissance with Jenny in less than 24 hours.

First stop on Keira-Anne’s long weekend: the We(s)t Coast of Vancouver Island, Tofino. It’s been a little over two years since I was last there, and I am highly anticipating a good time, rain or shine. Perhaps I over-prepare more than I should, but I did bring my UGGs in the event that I’ll be colder than a mofo after a few hours of surfing in the Pacific.

To those of you who are wondering if I’ll be bringing my camera and sharing the weekend with you through photos, to that question I say “oooooobviously!” The next few days will quite undoubtedly be chalked full of amazing photo opportunities.

Before I bid you all adieu, however, there is one last (very important) thing that requires attention…

BIRTHDAY BABE

Tomorrow marks a special day in the life of someone who is very special to yours truly. My dear, darling and sweet friend Ashley is celebrating her 24th birthday. I have known this girl for close to a decade, and with each year, there is more to learn, love and appreciate about her. She has a spirit and disposition that is incomparable to anyone that I know. What I appreciate most about Ashley is her unrelenting heart; one that always loves me, never judges me.

I wish so much that I could be with her in Calgary to partake in a martini, a cupcake and a few giggles, I know that she knows that she’s very much loved across the miles from sunny BC.

Photo: Mercury Records

In 1997, there was no escaping “MMMBop,” either on the radio, MuchMusic or from yours truly’s JVC three-disc stereo system. I spent countless hours that summer sitting on the roof outside my bedroom window listening to Hanson’s debut album, “Middle of Nowhere.”

Fast forward 10 years: 2007 saw the release of “The Walk,” an album recorded and released entirely on Hanson’s own label, 3CG Records. Much of the proceeds from the record, and a single entitled “The Great Divide” in particular, were donated to HIV/AIDS research in Africa. Hanson have since been touring the record extensively, and in each city played, the band completes a one-mile barefoot walk with their fans to continue to raise awareness for a cause the brothers are obviously so passionate about.

Photo: kmarski on Flickr

Being that it’s been eight years since I saw them play the Orpheum Theatre, you can imagine my excitement when I learned they’d be playing the Commodore Ballroom in Vancouver on September 10, 2008. Through the magic of everyone’s favourite Vancouver blogger, Miss604, I will be able to bring all of you, my fabulous readers, up close and personal with the trio from Oklahoma.

Prior to completing the one-mile AIDS walk (for which I am completely willing to forego my pedicured tootsies) with Hanson, Rebecca and myself will be interviewing Hanson, snapping photos and taking in the show that evening. I’ll remind you all closer to the date, but be sure to check back after September 10th for all the juicy tidbits, audio interview and photos from what will most certainly be a day to remember.

What: Hanson (live and acoustic)
When: Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Where: Commodore Ballroom, 868 Granville Street, Vancouver, BC (show is 19+)
How: Tickets at Ticketmaster [click here]

For more information on the band, visit their official website.

Still a skeptic? Check out this acoustic clip of the boys (attempting to play) with Tom Green on drums.