Head Too Cloudy to Think of Anything Clever

My friends and I went out last night and, needless to say, debauchery ensued. Brant House is the spot in T.O. for $3 drinks so it's all their fault, really.

The pounding in my noggin is relentless. I tried sleeping off the inevitable hangover but my growling G.I. tract forced me to immediately cram greasy foods down my throat. Nap time will be a requirement today, natch.

I'm certainly old enough to know better...but it's still fun anyway.

See more photos here.

Backspin, Yo

I fancy a lovely little channel on (Sirius)XM called "Backspin-XL". It's total old skool rap and basically kicks it - hard. It's so old skool, in fact, that seniors and their very senior parents listen while nursing their Manhattans at the bar.

I heard one of my all-time faves this morning and was forced to share. Totally took me back to when I was, like, eight. Okay, twelve, but who's counting. Fantastic little tune to kick off the weekend, imo, as I'll be kickin' it tonight on King West. I'll personally be having a drink or two. Or ten.

So, do you remember this little ditty? I love that it's the Soul Train version, too. I mean, who doesn't have fond memories of running home from school, sweaty with scabby knees and a metal Smurfs lunchbox clanging in hand, to watch Don Cornelius and "the hippest trip in America"? Good times.

(note the retro charm of Doug E Fresh's "Coca-Cola" shirt. for shame!)

One of These Things Doesn't Belong

Any guesses?

Snapped near College and Ossington.

Side note: President Obama, will you consider nominating me to your Cabinet? I've paid all my taxes.

Well, You Start By Tearing Up a Wad of Cash...

It snowed in Toronto this morning. Unbeknownst to me, of course, until after I'd woken up. I was formerly an avid Canadian weather watcher but when I realized that they were wrong 90% of the time, I quit watching. The old adage heard in cities 'round the world - "just wait 15 minutes and the weather will change" - is certainly true of this fair city as well. I don't really do snow, at least when it comes to driving, and because I didn't know I'd have to deal with the little white bugs today, I got up too late to take transit. I called a colleague who lives in my building, but he had an early morning meeting. Reality was staring me square in the face: I was going to have to drive. Sometimes, you just have to put on your big girl panties and work it out.

Here's the fun part. In my haste and nervousness about the possibility of sliding off the Gardiner or, say, running down a pedestrian, I clipped a concrete post in my parking garage. I heard the loud "bang" and knew exactly what I'd done. I tried to maintain my equanimity, but uttered an expletive anyway (that can't be repeated here because my Mom's reading). So it goes. I could not even bring myself to stop and look at the gash, so I just kept driving - straight to work. Problem-free, I might add.

My beloved (and nearly paid for) car has not been washed in over three months and is therefore covered in a two-inch thick crust of dirt, snow and ice. Actually, I can hardly change lanes on the freeway because I can barely see out. I usually try to take the "glass half full" approach in life and in this scenario it's as follows: the lovely crust mix has mitigated my ability to see the scrape. For now. Once I wash it, though, the ugly scab on my heretofore perfect vehicle will be completely exposed for all the world to see. Namely me. Oh well, such is life.

Thank You Jesus!!

Five words: the sun came out today!!

My makeup was ruined from the watery eyes I had after staring at the sun for about ten straight minutes, but I didn't care! Then, I sang at the top of my lungs right in the middle of the office and got the stink-eye from my colleagues, but I didn't care! The sun was blisteringly bright coming around the Don Mills curve on the DVP and my poor cornea were hardly able to adjust to the strong UV light; I was almost in a 179 car pile up because of it, but I didn't care! I'm from Texas, remember? I'm used to living on the face of the sun, so not seeing it for five months has done permanent damage to both my eyeballs and my epidermis (that, I care about).

Today, though, I'm a happy girl!

Sunshine!

Me doing a little jig after seeing the sun

Happy girl! (photo courtesy of Catherine)

The Gardiner on my way home - woo hoo!

My Week of Not Being Lame

My weeks are usually manic-filled episodes of sprinting around Toronto from place to place. Sort of like the proverbial chicken. Last week, though, was a rare one where I didn't have much to do. I still managed to find a little bit of trouble - as I'm apt to do - but it was basically a slow one for me. This week, however, I am back on my A-game and have a ton of cool things lined up. If anyone wants to join, call me (picture me mouthing the words and holding up a "finger phone" to my ear).

Monday - Watching The Bachelor, sillies. Well, and hip hop dance class at City Dance Corps, too, but I'll be DVR'ing the former. I mean, who doesn't wanna watch Jason take those crazy, greedy, plastic bitches home to meet mom and dad?! It's a (made for TV) disaster waiting to happen and I can't wait.

Tuesday: Sewing Machine Essentials class. Yep, I'm diving head first into the pool of domestication. I will be learning how to turn a sewing machine on for the very first time and will be attempting to turn fabric into a pillow slip. Anyone who knows me knows that I'm a true city girl at heart so this should be interesting. If I had to sew a button to save my life, well, you know.

Pics to follow, natch.

Wednesday: Watch Kobe (and the rest of the Lakers) take down the Raptors.

Thursday: "Up Until Now" at the Winchester Street Theatre (aka "The Winch"). The world premiere of a newly commissioned work from the iconic American choreographer and dance experimentalist Deborah Hay. Should be rockin'.

Friday: King West Pub Crawl. If it's anywhere near as debaucherous as December's outing, I'll just plan to talk to you guys next week. Should be fun to try and make my 9am flight to Houston on Saturday. Think I'll make it? (@Farhan - bet you can't get 16 G&T's down this time without stumbling home)

Saturday: Wake up and take aspirin. Fly to Houston. Pack up condo. Try to find renter in tanking economy. Shove as much Mexican food as possible down throat. Get waited on hand and foot by amazing parents.

My Kinda Place

I tried a new church yesterday. I'm, unfortunately, a lapsed Catholic and yes, I feel guilty about it. I promise to say 10 Our Father's and 10 Hail Mary's as penance. Tomorrow.

I'm a girl who appreciates rituals, both religious and otherwise. Rituals have been ingrained in me since I was a small girl, likely from attending weekly Mass with devout parents very involved with the Church. To this day they're a comfort to me. When deciding which university to attend, I ended up choosing one steeped in tradition and rituals. Probably not a coincidence considering I had several to choose from. Don't get me wrong, I despise redundancy; but having the same routine day after day is a far cry from the deeper ritualistic experience I crave.

There aren't many churches around me since I live downtown, so I tried St. Andrew's Presbyterian, a 179 year-old church about a ten minute walk from my building. As I walked up to the church, I got that familiar little adrenaline rush knowing that I was walking into a completely new situation (and which I secretly love!). I found a seat, the service began and everything was fine - no one brought out the whips to lash me for not being "one of them" nor did anyone point and laugh. Maybe the Protestants aren't that bad after all (kidding!).

Blah, blah, blah, we asked for forgiveness, etc, etc and the sermon began. The first three words out of the reverend's mouth were "Money. Sex. Demonic Possession.", and I knew I was home.