“Too much film festival.” That’s what my yoga teacher said to me as I carried my mat to my spot in the hot room, alas, still wearing my gaudy rhinestone-encrusted Dolce & Gabbana sunglasses on my head. One of the funny teaching assistants quipped, “I think you should leave them on.”

Yes, a little too much Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF): I’ve been sick with a cold/flu — Heather Graham’s cold — and exhausted from interviews with gorj stars on the red carpet, interviews with awesome filmmakers in the heart of downtown Toronto, transcribing all of these interviews, and I’m still recovering from my peek at James Franco and my Clive Owen birthday encounter. *Swoon!*

Now, many of you have known me for years, right? So you know that, of all the celebs in the world, Clive Owen’s my number-one celebrity boyfriend, right? RIGHT? Even if you haven’t known me for long, just look at my Twitter bio. Clive Owen is part of WHO I AM. This is serious business, Gorgeouses. And, although I write about celebrities around the clock, trust me when I say I’m not obsessed with celebrities — not one bit — except for Clive just a little bit….

So when I saw the real Clive Owen standing before me, thanks some sweet VIP tix at the Killer Elite TIFF gala, I was beside myself — waving subtly, arm extended stick straight in the air, mouth uttering I-don’t-know-what, “I love you”?

But, because I love you, Gorgeouses, I’ll share the first photo with you, which no one’s seen yet because I was saving it for you. It’s added proof that (no matter what a certain dinner-party jealous-person-who-shall-not-be-named-you-know-who-you-are might say) Clive was STARING AT ME. Ready? CHECKIT!

Exhibit 1….

Bald guy on the right is Jason Statham, by the way. And pardon the fuzziness. It’s hard to wave and take photos at the same time…. Note that there is not a crowd of people around me. I had ample space on either side of me…!

Exhibit 2….

STARE, right? Doth mine eyes deceiveth me Gorgeouses? No. There it is. Gosh, now I think I may have underplayed the stare a little bit on Celebrity Candy. Now that you see the two exhibits together, you see — RIGHT? — that there was, indeed, a stare.

What the stare was about, I have no idea. Maybe he was thinking there’s that cheaty girl from the Internet, who’s been calling me her boyfriend all these years bwah…!

Anyway. For me it was a surreal experience, like staring at a shark — mysterious, awesome, sublime. Clive.

One more thing before I leave feeling (as my favourite radio host Taylor Strecker likes to say) happy of myself. I may have had a little “too much festival,” but I’ve also been thinking about other more serious stuff lately — like the provincial election here in Ontario, Canada. Gorgeouses, those of you who’ve known me for years know that I stay away from politics because, unlike Clive, it’s so totally not my forte. But I did take to the keyboard the other day to write about an unsettling situation that involved an electoral candidate.

Sighh, I suppose, in the worst case, there’s always Jon Hamm…. But I’ll always have my stare.

Love!

xo Haley-O

PS: I’ll be posting more TIFF pics up on my Cheaty Monkey Facebook page, asap!

Photos: Haley Overland/Cheatymonkey.com


I’m trying to gather up enough energy and stamina to write a post here. Thoughts have been forming and merging and collapsing lately, but fingers repel keys like magnets with like poles because exhausted and empty.

But just like I now get on the yoga mat each morning (thanks to persistent, available, compassionately whip-cracking teacher), I’m getting on the keyboard and writing this evening.

Yoga for writers: Do your writing, and all is coming….

Lately I’ve found myself thinking a lot about who on earth I am. I’ve had so much going on: my first TV appearance, celebrity interviews, and more and more celebrity interviews and two trips to New York in just over a month and trips to the cottage and work and…and…and…and family.

And my family, though last on that list of “so much going on,” is at the forefront of my thoughts all the time. When I pick up the phone to Jessica Alba’s very sweet voice, it occurs to me how close in age the Rascal is to her daughter. Does she want to know how much my son will love Spy Kids? Or how the Monkey loves the Little Mermaid, too? She has a Little Mermaid “babing suit”….

She turned six last week. SIX.


Gosh, and I’ve been blogging here since she was 8 months old….

We threw her a fairy birthday party. Tinker Bell flew in and blew the Monkey away. She stayed much longer than she was supposed to (thankfully), went up to the Monkey’s room with all the girls, ate cake with us, took pictures. The Monkey hugged Tink for dear life when it was time to say goodbye. She really believed….

With so much going on, when I hang up the phone with Jessica Alba, when I leave work for the day, when the TV camera switches off and I’m wondering how I did, when I’m standing on my head at the yoga studio, when I crawl into a foreign hotel bed, I am all about my kids.


“Ooo, look at the upside down rainbow!” — my brother and his wife taunt me when I practice yoga at the cottage….

From the moment I crawl out from under the Rascal in the morning, to the time I pick them up from camp, they’re in my thoughts — emerging and retreating as my focus on other things waxes and wanes. How are they doing at camp? Is the Monkey wearing her hat? Is the Rascal asking his counselor for “Mama”? Is he eating his snack? What will we do together after camp? Hair cuts? The “fairy store”? The park?

I’m thinking about my family. That’s who I am. And I’m thinking about career and life and what I’ll make for tomorrow’s lunch when I finish writing this post. I’m thinking about my dharma.

Last night I dreamed of a cave and a guru. Another guru dream. There were no answers, nothing full or finite. Just open arms and a smile.

Love….

xo Haley-O


I love the number three. Right now, as I think of the number three, a vision of the swimming pool at my in law’s country house surfaces in that hazy space between my temples — the monkey taking another step into the cold, sparkly water: “Mama!” she proudly exclaims, “I’m on the THREETH step! I’m on the THREETH step!”

Threeth. I couldn’t bare to tell her the word is “THIRD.” “THIRD.” Because the word should totally be “threeth.” Totally. “Threeth.” Don’t you think?

Wait, so it was somebody’s birthday today!!!!!


Woahhh! How’d that get there. Oh. I guess it’s dinner time. (Heh. Isn’t he GORJ?)

So it was someone’s THREETH birthday today!

Even if I DID put pictures of my kids’ faces on this blog, I’d never be able to catch his. Not today. He’s been too busy playing with the best birthday present EVER (if I do say so myself). It cost a little more than I wanted to spend — but it was so worth it. Look at his little hand. He’s so into it!

I could definitely write a sappy love post to my Rascal. There’d be no shortage of words or sweet nothings. THAT HAND. But I’m a little fahklempt right now. THREE(th). Tired from making this day as awesome as possible for him. Feeling like being quiet.

So here….

Celebrate with us (we had cupcakes).

Rascal, you’re three. You’re my little buddy. My sidekick. My little MAN with your mucka and your moe. I just LOVE you. I cover you with sloppy kisses, you KISSER you. And you whine at me and whine and whine when you’re tired. And you’re so HIGH MAINTENANCE. But it’s worth it for the LOVE and the way you replace your Ls with Ys and the way you drool sometimes when you’re really into what you’re doing or what you’re saying. So full of LOVE you are. And you DO love your mama. You love your mama more than anything, and what a gift it is to be loved more than anything, and I thank you. I love you with my whole heart and soul and every cell and nucleus and atom of my being I love you. I LOVE YOU, my baby.

Sweet Rascal, Happy Birthday.

Love Mama.


I just laughed my arse off after my 15th viewing of a video that’s apparently been making millions of people laugh for months now. I actually really relate to this video because, as some of you know, I often get excited by even the smallest of natural wonders…. But this…. THIS. Check it, and then tell me I’m not the last person to see it.

I’m officially a hardcore fan of YosemiteBear.

Here’s the hysterical song parody….

It’s all so feel-good funny. I love it. Hope you did too. Hope it drew massive UNICORN tears of laughter.

My sis in law and her husband just showed me the videos now, and I had to share them with you GORGEOUSES! I’m at Josh’s parents’ country house just outside of Montreal — for Rosh Hashana (the Jewish New Year). We’re also celebrating my birthday (TODAY, September 10!). Josh got me some hoop earrings because I mentioned I was craving HUGE ONES, but they looked terrible. More like pirate chic than, what I’d hoped for, bohemian chic….

Harrrrr!

I’m 36. Right now. it’s 12:04am and I’m officially 36. It’s gonna be a good year. I know it. Because I’m wearing a sparkly purple shirt, my dog Betty White is NOT BARKING, and I just ate cake.

DOUBLE RAINBOW! OMG! What does this mean? So intense….

Love!
xo Haley-O


We had our own little cabin apart from the main cottage where the rest of my family — parents, sister’s family, brother’s family — stayed. I wish I had a picture of our little cabin, but the only one I took was of the kitchen clock with the words “Who Gives a Sh**?” Don’t believe me?

For the record, I totally gave a sh**. I could have stayed at that cottage for another week, month, year. Time ticked too fast. Because look….

And look….

Closer….

Look….

Look….

Look….

Look….

So….

Many….

Dogs….

That’s Olivia (above). She’s deaf. Betty White sat and barked at her for ages trying to work her up, and Olivia didn’t flinch.

We got there Wednesday afternoon, and I worked until 2:30am. And then I rested and totally, completely enjoyed myself and my family the rest of the time. There were just a few mini bites of anxiety due to, ALAS, potentially some JURY DUTY in my future. I say “potentially” because I just learned this morning that I may be able to get out of it. Since I only work until 1pm and don’t have childcare in the afternoon, AND Josh will be out of town on business, I may just be excused. And, hello? I better be. Because I can’t even watch Law and Order. That, and my “summons” takes place during Rascal’s 3rd birthday — and he talks about his birthday EVERY DAY. He want’s Lightening McQueen to come to the party….

Yeah, I know….

Aside from my jury jitters, I’m a little wordless today. Look….

I’m just so relaxed after my cottage adventure. My glass is full, you know? And I’m enjoying the buzz. Without words.

Who gives a sh**?

Love!

xo Haley-O


Oy, look at how mature her little hand is. FIVE. The Monkey’s five years old tomorrow (Wednesday, July 28). FIVE.

She was only 8 months old when I started writing this blog. It took a little tinkering, but I ended up naming the whole thing after her.

I’ve been calling her “Cheaty Monkey” since she was a wee 2 days old. After an hour of breastfeeding her, I’d catch her very convincingly pretending to feed so she could stay on my breast forever. Then I’d say, “you cheaty little monkey!” Anyone who heard me call her that would laugh. So I thought, a name like that might scare some readers away, but it’s me, and it’s her, and it’s making people laugh. So there it was. Cheaty Monkey. Totally inspired by my now five-year-old. FIVE!

I also called her “Ruby Tuesday,” for some mysterious reason (still do). But it never occurred to me to name my blog that…, fortunately. Whenever she did something really silly or funny, I’d hold out my arms and say, “RUBY TUESDAY!” And then I’d clobber her with kisses.

Can you believe this blog was once called “A Blog of Her Own” and then, ack, “Halespace”? Yes, Gorgeouses, it’s true! Thankfully, and soon enough, I realized that the perfect blog name, my very inspiration, was right in front of me, scootching on her bum all over my living room, all over the floor at Starbucks and, I remember distinctly, at the baby-camp-that-shall-not-be-named. (Remember that? No hard feelings. I should have known better. I was young….) Man, did that scootch make people laugh….

The monkey inspired this space, Gorgeouses; she inspired me to pursue writing. Is this sappy enough? Wait, I’m not done yet! I hope (and pray) I can inspire her to pursue her greatest passions….

And here we are celebrating her 5th birthday together. FIVE.

In honour of her birthday, we had Sleeping Beauty herself entertain the Monkey and a lovely bunch of mini princesses last weekend….

And, as you can sort of see in that photo way above (the princess figurines were quickly swiped before we could get a photo!), we got the perfect pink peanut-free cake from my friend Fran from Frantastic Treats. (Alas, I totally added 5 pounds of that CAKE to my butt!)

Tomorrow we celebrate some more. We’re having a party at it’sgrandma’s house, and the Monkey’s bringing fancy cupcakes to camp with her. Not just any cupcakes, mind you. These cupcakes are apparently ALL NATURAL. The lady at the bakery told me: “Yes,” she said, “they’re all natural — the Oreo cupcakes are made of real Oreos.” Heh.

My Cheaty little Monkey, HAPPY BIRTHDAY. You are, as you were from Day 1, AMAZING and HILARIOUS and ADORABLE and RIDICULOUSLY CREATIVE and SMART and BEAUTIFUL and CHARISMATIC and CHEATY — a cheaty, cheaty little monkey. And you continue to inspire me every single day, you magical, sparkly, precious little princess!

I love you. Five! Five! FIVE! Happy Birthday!

Love!

xo Haley-O