At what point can you be classified as a crazy plant lady
By:Nadia Tudhope
Like any aesthetically-inclined Zillenial desperate for a sense of connection and need to care for something, I’ve slowly gotten obsessed with accumulating houseplants. At the time of writing this, I have nine, but after coming back from two dates in a row with a new plant, I can’t be sure that number won’t change by the time this is published.
My all-encompassing desire to turn my bedroom into a greenhouse probably started when I got really into orchids — there was one point in second year where I had five. But after learning that no amount of knowledge and orchid-specific feed can save you from their fussiness or a tragic mealybug infestation, I moved more into succulents and aloes. The plant obsession has only gotten worse since.
I haven’t yet figured out how to care for my snake plant without smothering it, but despite its curling leaves from probable-overwatering I already want another one. (The yellow-edged ones are cool, okay.) I still don’t have names for my two newest children, a nerve plant and an ivy, but the neon pothos plants at Fort Langley’s general store are calling my name.
Hell is other people with shopping carts
By: Mikaela Collins
I have always loved grocery shopping, but there is one thing about grocery shopping that is irredeemably awful: other people. Namely, other people with shopping carts. Why, when handling a two-by-three-foot metal object in a five-inch-wide aisle, does all spatial awareness go out the window? Why does the decision between regular cream of mushroom soup or reduced-sodium cream of mushroom soup become one on which the rest of us in the canned food aisle must wait with baited breath and rapidly wilting lettuce? Why do cart-shoppers seem magnetically drawn to one another, their carts invariably side-by-side in the very centre of the aisle? Is it classism? Do these people who can afford an entire cart full of food simply feel entitled to treat the bulk section as their lordly domain? Am I simply a trespasser, some kind of unwitting basket-bound bandit? Are they, in fact, the noble animals on this lawless savannah, and I a horsefly, buzzing around them? Do I, rushing to catch the next bus, simply lack the quiet dignity of the cart-shoppers, who move unhurried from shelf to shelf? It’s possible. But they’re still a pain in the neck.
What do you want?
By: Andrea Sadowski
Attention. This is a public service announcement for everyone who wants to embark on the journey of entering into a relationship with another human being: make your intentions clear. Do you just want casual sex? Make that clear. Do you want a committed relationship? Make that clear. Are you just trying things out and actually going on coffee dates with a lot of different people? Make that clear. Do you still love your partner but just need a little time on your own? Make that clear. So much hurt and anguish can be avoided in relationships if we learn to explicitly communicate our intentions with one another. There is no such thing as too much communication. When you tell one another at the very beginning of the relationship exactly what you are hoping to gain from it, you are able to determine right away if you are both on the same page, and if not, you can part ways with minimal damage. Yes, the “define the relationship” talk may sometimes be awkward, but it’s necessary. So please, just tell each other what you want.
Public Enemy’s got the Bern
By: Darien Johnsen
Last week, popular rap star Flavor Flav was fired from the rap group Public Enemy, apparently after failing to show up to perform at a Bernie Sanders rally. Rumours began swirling that Flavor Flav was fired over his political views, among worse rumours that he was a Trump supporter, to which Mr. Flav responded: “F*** Trump.” Good on ya, Flav.
The reality of the situation was that Flavor Flav had actually been on suspension since 2016; the firing had nothing to do with his political views or the rally (which he was never scheduled to perform at) — rather, it was a response to the 60-year-old’s party lifestyle.
It got me thinking that Bernie’s politics totally align with some of Public Enemy’s lyrics. See the song “Revolutionary Generation”: “Day to day, America eats its young / And defeats our women / There is a gap so wide we all can swim in / Drown in…”
Maybe Bernie could replace Flavor Flav; his campaign promises would make great lyrics: “Give workers an ownership stake in the companies they work for / Break up corrupt corporate mergers and monopolies / And finally make corporations pay their fair share.”
You’re killin’ it, Bernie.
Illustrations: Kelly Ning/The Cascade