We are fortunate to be spending the holiday weekend with our family, and we will celebrate Olivia’s second birthday on Saturday. In advance of the party, here’s a quick fix:

I hope you, too, have a holiday filled with the things that make you the happiest. In Liv’s case, that would be the pacifier I yanked from her mouth right before taking this photo.

• A publication at my alma mater, North by Northwestern, has an interview with Kellan Lutz (George, 90210).
• Kristin has Gossip Girl spoilers.
• The Vanessa-Olivia aspect of the Gossip Girl threesome and Alex-Marissa on The O.C. are included in E! Online’s Hot Girl-on-Girl Action gallery.
• The O.C.’s Chrismukkah episodes made TVGuide.com’s list of Best Holiday and Christmas TV Episodes.
• It figures: when I move away from Chicago, Peter Gallagher (Sandy, The O.C.) starts doing solo-shows there. Darn! (I did pass him on my campus once but realized too late that it was him!)
• One of the tabloids has a short piece on a “Dawson’s Creek love curse.” (See image 7.) Notably and conveniently absent is Joshua Jackson (Pacey) since he happens to be in a committed relationship.
• Jack (Kerr Smith, Dawson’s Creek) is included in E! Online’s Gays on TV gallery.

Round 1.

Upon pouring the cans of evaporated milk into an already full bowl while making pumpkin pies:

Olivia: Are you sure this is going to fit?

Me:  Yes.  I think…

Olivia:  That doesn’t sound too reassuring.

Me: It will fit.

Olivia:  In the name of God?

Me: In Jesus’ name.  Yes.

Round 2.

Olivia:  Chocolate pie? (Liv doesn’t like chocolate very much)

Me:  Chocolate Mousse Pie

Olivia:  Why chocolate?

Me:  Because it will be wonderful.

Olivia:  In the name of Jesus?

Me:  You got it.

You have to admire Elle Magazine. While most magazines haven’t ventured out of their comfort zone, Elle has gone all out. They had their own Reality TV Show, Olivia’s stories at Elle are as important as Whitney on the City, and everyone seems to be crushing on Joe Zee. My favorite so far is their shoe diary. It documents cute shoes worn by the staffers every day. The pictures are surprisingly cool. I think it’s an adorable way to show the public more of what goes on inside Elle and I’d love to be a part of it.  I wonder what shoes I’d have to wear to get an internship there.

If i had a Daily Booth this is definitely what I would do.

Okay ladies and gents, I know most of the people who read this blog are in their 20s, early 30s, and that age group that consists of our parents, BUT-

Don’t pretend like you’re not interested in seeing New Moon. Don’t even dare to play that “Too Cool” card. Because you will lose. So instead of delaying the inevitable, I’ve devised a pain-free way to see the cinematic equivalent of ripping off a bandaid. A very well-toned, awesomely scored, hello-kitty bandaid.

I took the kTrain to New Moon.

#1 Bring a Friend

This seems like obvious advice, but really, it is the most important thing on this list. Without the guffawing of a friend, you’ll feel pressured to take this movie seriously. And therein lies the rub: This movie is total crap. But when you have a friend loudly cackle with you every time there’s a reaction shot of Jasper cullen, it’s a lot easier to choke on your chuckles.

#2 Every time Edward says something, add “but man, I have the munchies.”

Edward Cullen: “I love you. You’re my only reason to stay alive… if that’s what I am…Fuck. Man, I have the munchies.” Bloodlust ensues. Followed by Fritos and a Diet Coke.

#2 is especially easy when, with the help of #1, your friend keeps repeating the munchie mantra into your ear.

#3 Bring a waterbottle full of vodka.

This one’s kind of obvious. But, every time Kristen Stewart’s character grabs at her shirt sleeves in frustration, take a swig. Some may confuse the desperate clutching of her wrists as “Acting”, the same way Robert Pattinson insists his talent is in his hair, and that’s why you can’t wash the magic out of it. Should you swig with every angsty wrist-grab, you’ll be prepared for #4.

#4 Chase down your stoli shot/Kirsten Stewart wrist-based OCD with a loud “HAH!” and confuse the 12-year-old next to you.

“What’s so funny?” they whimper. With your vodka-infused breath, slowly lean in and drunkenly whisper, “The air they breathe.”

#5 Whenever Ashley Greene/Alice Cullen appears, use your imagination and think of her naked.

Except, don’t use your imagination.

#6 Look around the theater at your fellow audience members. Point and laugh.

#7 Bring a kazoo.

Keep it in your hot little hands until Kirsten Stewart’s character hops a flight to Italy. When you see her plane’s “Virgin Air” logo fly past the screen in huge, painfully obvious lettering, whip it out.

Blow hard.

I think “Low Opacity” was a last-ditch effort for Rpattz to look less stoned.

#8 Take the disco biscuits you’d been saving for that phish concert out of your pocket and swallow. This will help for the scenes where Edward Cullen appears as a hologram. Reach out and touch him.

“Jacob, come back to the forest. With us. Naked.”

#9 Should all of the above steps fail, just bring ear plugs. This will help with dialogue that the Washington Post claims is “So wooden, it gave me splinters.” Re-create the angst yourself, using the New Moon Cast as a a canvas for your amateur ventriloquism.

#10 Lastly, let your eyes glaze over, drool start to form in pools in the armrest, and a general sense of content dominate every time you see this:

But try not to think about the fact that he’s 17. That’s what #8 is for.

—-

In all honesty, I had a great time watching this movie. Sure, it is mind numbingly stupid, ripe with mormon allegory, and chockablock full of subliminal lacoste commercials, but if you are anything like us you will laugh your fangs off. New Moon is 100 million times campier than Twilight, and somewhere between taking itself too seriously it just soared over the edge and into the land of “awesomely bad”. What little action scenes there were had suprisingly good special effects, though the makeup designer forgot to do her job, and the fact that vampires don’t have pores. Oh well. I am rambling. Go see it. Er, trip it.

You name them, we follow them. Whether it’s the self-imposed muses at Kingdom of Style, or the king of street stalking Sartorialist, fashion bloggers are the future.

We’ve shown our admiration for the Susie Style Bubbles, Bryan Boys and Tommy Tons, and Journalists from industry fashion bibles continue praise the mantras of those already on top. But fashion leaders must always be on the lookout for what’s new – what’s hot. Especially when a majority of the fashion bloggers shop at the same places.

The creme de la creme of High street retailers: American Apparel, Urban Outfitters, H&M, and Topshop are forever indebted to the fashionistas who consistently create looks on their blogs that inspire a growing batch of followers. Without this new school of “unofficial” spokespeople, fashion retailer’s net profits would plummet at jet speed.

This post is an ode the new generation of bloggers. They’re young, fashion-forward, and proudly Canadian.

Regardless of how different they are in content, the selected fashionistas have three things in common: high street style, thrift shops and character.

So here we go.(And by the way, all images are properties of the blog owners.)

The Dreamer: Rachel, 16, Serva Me, Servabo Te.

This young blogger loves pretty floral print dresses and far away places. In July 2008, Rachel founded  Save me, And I Will Save You. With piercing green eyes, fiery red hair, and a direct sense of fashion, Rachel updates her followers about fashion finds at Toronto’s vintage shops, and has a knack for binding art, fantasy books and music into her fashion entries. Though she has a passion for fashion, it’s easy to see her cultivating a career in the literary world, maybe with Penguin Books.

The Fashion Creator: Katia, 17, Blinding Bright Lights.

Whether Katia’s venturing european countries or strolling NYC, this Montrealer/Student  is a self-proclaimed “fashion-obsessed vegetarian with extremely high hopes for the future.” Fashion through her eyes is a cluttered barrage of colour, and putting looks together is much like changing underwear – she does it often. Her posts garner a legion of responses, which means she’s becoming a prominent voice within Canada’s fashion blogsphere. Maybe she’ll launch her own line, land a job at Colette or French Elle.

The Fashion Editor: Lea, 13, Lea Likes Fashion.

Don’t be fooled by the pouty demure in this picture; there’s nothing emo about Lea’s blog. In fact, it’s along the lines of UK’s Grazia. At just 13-years-old, Lea’s one of the most underrated yet promising personalities in Canadian fashion – literally. She’s a woman of little words but high on visual content. Noting Alexander McQueen as one of her favorite designers, she’s quick to post pre-season haute couture collections and one-on-one guides of her own daily looks. She’s got the look that will land her in front row of fashion weeks, and she’s got lifestyle flair; she posts food recipes and tips making her a well-rounded blogger. Word to the wise Lea, have you seen MCQ’s Spring/Summer 2010 collection of to die for bags?

The Society Girl: Olivia, 21, Stylestruck.ca.

She’s got a cute cropped cut and kick ass heels. And when she’s not giving the low down of what’s in her closet, Fashion Blogger Olivia does her own rendition of street stalking. She’s all about who’s who in the Vancouver’s (and abroad) fashion scene. She’s got a positive attitude and wears a bright smile to match. She’s definitely one of those fashionistas you’ll see working the PR circuit for a well-renowned fashion house, maybe Diane Von Furstenberg?

The Glam Girl: Abbey, 16, Abbey Karson Blog.

Abbey’s got enough style to be apart of the team behind über-fashion mags like Pop, or Katie Grand’s Love. Note the british mags mentioned; that’s because she’s cool, maybe too cool to be in Canada. With her doll-like features and semi-beehive hairstyle, Abbey is essentially Britpop to-the-max. The quality of the images on her blog are stunning and the fashion-girl-against-rural-backdrop (except when she is in front of her magazine poster plastered wall) is fresh and exciting.

The Indie Fashion Maven: Siân, 23, Good Stuff Here.

Out of all the bloggers, Siân would probably be the most anti-mainstream, though she genuinely is the most avant-garde. This Makeup Artist from Toronto’s style resonates throughout her blog; she’s one of those personalities you can see getting in with weekly indies like Toronto’s Now! Magazine, or working her magic through commissions from Creative Agencies. She’s an unapologetic blogger, not afraid to voice her dislikes which gives her platform a niche following. And, considering a lot of the fluff bloggers tend to do (myself included), that’s not such a bad thing. If all else fails, she can always become a spokes model for Carri Mundane’s Cassette Playa collection.

Does anyone else do this?

 I think I forget sometimes that television is fictional and not real life. Even if it’s a reality show a lot of the situations are scripted. I very often find myself watching TV and yelling at the screen.

 A recent example: I’m a Family Guy fanatic. I personally believe some of the best television is animated shows, but that’s for another blog. Well anyway on Sunday’s show we learned that Quagmire doesn’t like Brian.  HATES HIM!! I mean he can’t freakin’ stand him. Who knew? So the whole episode Brian is trying to win over Quagmire by engaging him conversation, surprising him and taking him out to dinner. Quagmire’s not impressed. Finally Brian just asks him, why does he hate him so much. Quagmire lays into him, watch below:

Brian is my favorite character, but Quagmire is right about him. He’s definitely flawed. My only issue is Quagmire you hate Brian for hitting on Lois all the time, aren’t you the one who slept with your best friend Cleveland’s wife Loretta. Are you really in a position to be judging anyone?

 I know this is TV, but that really irritated me. Like on General Hospital there is a character loosely based on Vogue editor Anna Wintour named Kate Howard. Kate grew up as Connie Falconeri  in the hoods of Bensonhurst, but escaped the ghetto, changed her name and identity to reflect a fictional uppercrust Connecticut upbringing. She became super rich and wildly successful. Fast forward to now, it turns out her cousin Olivia got pregnant as a teenager by mob boss Sonny Corinthos (swoon, ok sorry). Olivia never told Sonny or her son about each other.  Olivia and Sonny’s son is now an undercover cop who’s infiltrated Sonny’s  mob family in an attempt to bring down the father he never knew he had.

 Here’s what irritates me. Kate is the main one telling Olivia not to keep secrets and  to tell the truth. Chick, your whole life is based on a lie.  Your WHOLE life. Shut up who are you to tell someone not to keep secrets. I guess its okay for you to do it, but no one else. Get out of here.

 Then my favorite is Maury Povich and his paternity tests. People get on there and actually say “I’m 100% sure I’m not the baby’s father.” Did you use a condom? “No, but I’m 100% sure.” Ok idiot, if you slept with her without a condom there is a chance its your baby. It may be a small chance but its a chance.

The only thing worse than that to me is people who say I’m 1000% sure. How can you be 1000% sure. That’s not even possible.

 I know, I know I watch too much TV but really guys come on.

This year, I didn’t want to skip Thanksgiving.  The real meaning of giving thanks.  And though we have read about the first Thanksgiving and studied Squanto and made Pilgrim puppets etc., I wanted something spiritually tangible for our kids to help them begin their own habits of giving thanks.  No rote prayers; just real heartfelt giving thanks to the Lord.  So, we started a family Thanksgiving Journal.  Nothing fancy–just a spare spiral notebook I dug out of the school closet.  I made it really official looking by scrawling “The Henze Family Thanksgiving Journal” across the front cover.  It even has a spaghetti noodle dried on for extra fanciness.

It’s been such fun to record the things we are thankful for.  One of our kids is always thankful for our food.  And she really means it.  She isn’t saying it just to fill in her spot.  As we’ve progressed with our dinner-time ritual, the kids have become more interested in making sure their thoughts are recorded accurately.  And, it’s always a race to see whose hand can shoot into the air first as soon as grace is said.  I love that about them.  They can’t wait to give thanks.  Okay, they are probably competing with each other to be the first recorded, but even when that issue is settled, we spend the majority of meal time focused on the abundance of God’s good gifts to us. 

And, it has helped me think…about ALL the things God is doing on my behalf.  More than the food I eat, the clothes I wear, my home, my family, my friends.  His grace.  His sufficiency.  His Lordship.  His mercy.  His truth.  So many, many things.  It would take thousands of spiral notebooks to begin.  It is true:  God is good, all the time.  All the time, God is good.

Here are a few excerpts from our journal, our thanks to God.  And then an excerpt from His journal, His love letter to you.  May you be blessed with the knowledge of all that you should be grateful for this Thanksgiving and offer a sacrifice of praise.

Emma:  That Jesus came and died on the cross.  That we worship Jesus at school every day.  For my baby brother.  That we had appetizers for dinner.  That Daddy has the weekend off work.  For our good family.  For my art class.  That I didn’t have to write spelling words today!

Ruthie:  That we can watch the Olympics on TV.  That we can read the Bible.  That Mommy can spell really good.  For our new cell phones (Mom and Dad’s that is!).  For our good food.  That we have cookies.  For our garden this summer.  For Hope’s birthday and that she is alive.

Olivia:  That we went trick or treating.  That I played at Emily’s house today.  For our dog, Penny.  For corncake.  For my teacher, Miss Lisa.  For sour cream. That I have a birthday.  That Emma gets to go to art class even though I think I am a better artist and should be allowed to go and she should have to go to bed early.  That we believe in Jesus.  That Mommy and Daddy make me eat my dinner–even the proteins!

Psalm 100

A Psalm of Thanksgiving.

 ¹ Make a joyful shout to the LORD, all you lands!
 ² Serve the LORD with gladness;
         Come before His presence with singing.
 ³ Know that the LORD, He is God;
         It is He who has made us, and not we ourselves;^[a]
         We are His people and the sheep of His pasture.
         
 ⁴ Enter into His gates with thanksgiving,
         And into His courts with praise.
         Be thankful to Him, and bless His name.
 ⁵ For the LORD is good;
         His mercy is everlasting,
         And His truth endures to all generations. 

SEPT.

today is sunday.

church.1 hr bus wait.lost id card.nap.namaste thanksgiving.

yesterday was saturday.

chill.clean.hague.late dinner with Carly.Mike doesn’t love me.party at Kenny’s.drunk.

^^damn straight.

TUESDAY = GOING HOME FOR TURKEY.

On Saturday afternoon, I took Liv to a friends’ pool party at an indoor swim centre (yes, I drove and got out of the house, woo-hoo!). We decided we’d take a few different swimwear options for Liv to choose from when she got there, so she could see what the other girls were wearing and wear something similar (within reason). She didn’t want to be the only one wearing shorts or the only one in a one-piece etc and it’s always better to give Liv a few options than to make her agree with your opinion! She ended up choosing boardshorts and a swimwear singlet top (which were the ideal option so I was happy about that), but I was amazed to see how many girls- not just her friends but also other 7-12 year old girls that were at the pool- were wearing provactive and revealing swimmers.

Below you can see the type of swimmers that about 70% of the preteen girls were wearing at the pool on Saturday:

Maybe I’m wrong, but I don’t think there is EVER a reason why a preteen should be wearing something like that! And as for the top, it shows so much chest it may as well not even be there! 

Here’s another one that’s made for 7-12 year old girls:

 Who in their right mind would let their pre-teen daughter wear that at a public pool?! I’m far from a prude but dressing your daughter in a skimpy string bikini with teenie bikini bottoms is just inviting child predators to zero in on her.

And check out the tiny bikini top on this set!

I was shocked and saddened at how provactive some of the swimsuits were and that parents were happy for their daughters to wear them to a public pool. Even the one-piece swimmers were revealing and were a lot like this:

This one is so provactive as it draws attention to the cleavage area (which should NEVER be a focal point on young girls) and it goes ridiculously high  at the hips. I can’t even look at that for long because it sickens me that that style of swimwear is designed for girls so young.

Matt and I recently looked at swimwear for Bai and Liv in a few different stores and it was near impossible to find swimwear that was suitable. The one-piece swimmers would either go very low in the neck or they had big chunks taken out of them over both hips, showing way too much skin, and the bikinis were just like the ones I’ve shown here. Bailey and Olivia both have two-piece swimmers now where the tops are similar to singlets and the bottoms are like normal undies (like this one only all one colour), but they’re getting too small for them so it’s time to buy new ones. It was near impossible for us to find anything suitable for their age groups but hell would have to freeze over before I buy them skimpy swimmers!

So here’s a plea to all the mothers out there: If YOU choose to wear revealing swimmers like the ones I’ve shown here today, then you go right ahead. But don’t dress your preteen daughter like that. For one thing, you’re teaching her that it’s ok to wear totally provactive clothes- and that will bite you in the bum once she gets to be a teenager and wants to go out partying with next to nothing on- but you’re also giving paedophiles a free show and a reason for them to approach your daughter. 

Maybe I’m the only one who feels like this and that’s why there are so many revealing preteen swimsuits in the shops and hardly any modest ones, but surely I’m not the only one, am I….?!

So I’m back …and I’m back with terribly exciting tales!

Lol but not really.

For the last couple of months, I’ve been working and settling into my new apartment with Tim and Olivia.

God it was the best thing I’ve ever done!

The day I moved out Sophie was out shopping, so I packed everything up, brought them down to the giant taxi I’d ordered and just as I grabbed the last bag from the sitting room, in she walked.

Noticing that nearly everything in the apartment was missing (she’s very observant) she said, “Uhm what’s going on?”

“Oh nothing much,” I replied, shrugging my shoulders. “I’m just moving out.”

Her mouth dropped open.

I’ve never seen that happen in real life before.

“Yeah, so here you go,” I said, with a smug smile, and dropped my keys into her hand. “Enjoy.”

“Eh no, you can’t just move out and take all the stuff,” she shrieked at me. “That’s stealing.”

Oh mother of God, after living with me for a month, she’s only realising that it was me providing all the crockery and the TV and whatnot.

“It’s not stealing when all the stuff belonged to me,” I said.

“Omg, no you have no right. Once you bring them into the apartment, they become the property of all the tenants,” she said folding her arms.

I turned around.

“Wait, you knew you were using my stuff the whole time? You didn’t think it came with the apartment?” I asked, shocked. “So when you were using all my stuff and not cleaning it or even sharing it, you knew it was mine and just thought it was your right and privilage?”

“I pay rent,” she said.

“Actually your parents pay rent,” I spat. “I also pay rent AND I put MY money into all the stuff you’ve just used ….oh and broken and not replaced.”

“I live here,” she pouted.

“Yeah well now you live here alone, so we’ll see how you get on without my stuff,” I said. “Oh and are you a complete idiot, Sophie? We lived together, we weren’t married, so how the hell do you have joint ownership of each others’ stuff!?”

“You’re so sad,” she shot back. “You’re just jealous because I’m way hotter than you, and boys don’t even ACKNOWLEDGE you. You’re desperate and such a loser! This is just because you’re sulking over the guy next door!”

I looked at her.

“You’re a pathetic,” I said, looking her straight in the eye. “And yes, you’re right, I am a loser …but not because I’m not attractive. I’m a loser for ever thinking you were a friend or worth my friendship and loyalty.”

And with that, I walked out the door.

Man that felt good.

I tried to be her friend, I really did.

But I was kidding myself.

I was just flattered that someone as pretty and popular as her took an interest in me, and ignored the fact that it was because I was the Fat-n-Ugly Friend that made her look good, and was the loyal dog she could kick around without worrying I’d leave her.

Skipping down the steps, with a smile on my face due to my new-found backbone, I bumped into Hot Boy Next Door ….well Ex-Hot Boy Next Door.

“Uhm hi,” he said eyeing the bag in my hand. “Going somewhere?”

Standing up straight and lifting my chin haughtily, I replied, “Yes, to my new apartment”.

He looked shocked. “You’re moving?”

“Yes I am,” I said. “I’ve outgrown this place ….and its people,” and with that I walked down the stairs, out of the building and away from the old me….

Another year down.

The thirteen year old had her sleepover birthday party here last night.  We’ve not done this for a couple of years.  It had become such intense drama every time we ventured into this territory that we cut off the sleepover parties for a while.  This year we relented.  After all, we’re talking 7th graders now.  Twelve and thirteen year olds.  How bad could it be?

Well, I can tell you this:  7th grade girls eat considerably more than 4th grade girls.  I used to order lots of pizza for larger groups of younger girls and it would go nearly untouched.  These ladies were apparently sporting hollow legs.  The five of them swooped down on the two large Hungry Howie’s pizzas and devoured them in nothing flat.  I did manage to snag a couple pieces, but they were even taking the slices with mushrooms on them and pulling off the abominables.  I ordered mushrooms to ensure the adults would actually GET some pizza.  To see my favorite pizza topping being picked off and discarded was somewhat painful.  But these were hungry girls.  Pizza, gone.  Bags of chips, snarfed.  Veggie tray, eh…they avoided the celery but other than that they made a respectable dent.  Make-your-own sundaes, piled high and laid low.

Later I blew my microwave into heat exhaustion making nuker popcorn for them.  It seemed to be recovered this morning, which is a relief.  I really didn’t want to have to shell out buckaroonies for a new one.

For the first few hours the decibel level was remarkable.  Squealing, squawking, whooping, shrieking, screaming, gallumping from one end of the house to the other (and our house isn’t that big).  Shortly before midnight I told them that 12:00am was the cut-off for noise.  They didn’t have to go to sleep but they did have to stay inside, not run upstairs where others were sleeping, and if their voices could be heard upstairs then they were too loud.  To their credit, they honored it perfectly.  Never heard a peep out of them after that.  And I KNOW they didn’t just go to sleep.

I remember the sleepover parties of my own youth.  Making horrible concoctions and then Truth-or-Dare games to make someone eat them.  Playing pranks on the first person to fall asleep.  Squealing, squawking, whooping, shrieking, screaming, and gallumping from one end of the house to the other (and none of my friends had large houses).  We often did one another’s hair.  We laughed until our stomachs hurt.  I don’t know how our mothers stood it.  Maybe, like me, they kept telling themselves it was only one night, only one night, only one night…

The Sparky kids are growing up.  I alternate between sighs of relief and wanting to tell them to slow it down and cut it out.  It’s a tough world they face.  Tougher than the one I faced at that age, which was much tougher than the one my parents faced at that age.  I’m not a clingy mother who needs her children in order to have an identity, but I do wonder what life will be like in the season beyond this.  So much of my life has been given to it. 

For now the trash has been picked up, the living room put back together, the food bits swiped up, and all the items left behind by guests compiled and readied for return to their owners.  I’ve got a year to recover.

I listened to this track a while back when it was first released and I liked it, but never really listened to it again and since Olivia releases nothing but mini albums I kind a forgot about it, until now of course, because she just kind of popped into my head and I decided to review her latest single. Sailing Free is one of her infamous rock tracks and this is pretty much the main reason why I don’t really favor Olivia, because her songs tend to make me want to rip my ears off, despite having such nice and rather creative titles. That’s not the case with this, because I pretty much like Sailing Free all around and its a strong a-side, with a tolerable arrangement and a passionate vocal performance from Olivia.

I’m not too sure about the first b-side Love Love Love, because it doesn’t sound as bad this second time around, but it just rubs me the wrong way like Olivia songs tend to do. The arrangement is pretty lazy, not in a bad way, but it just makes me think of really lazy days, because of how morose it sounds. Olivia’s vocal performance was straight when she was keeping it in check and not spouting off nonsense, like the fireflies in a tree or something like that. I’d say I’m half and half on it, its all right.

… I think she has another song similar to this, off her first album… or something that I really hated and it was in English to boot. Undress is just one of the many and rather messy songs from Olivia that makes me avoid her music like the plague. After awhile of wailing nonsensical stuff over a hapahazard arrangement I just stopping paying attention to it. The first b-side is gold compared to this one. I wonder when she’s going to come out with another single, or mini album… or album?

Sailing Free