I'm sorry... I have to do this.
Karmacake will return soon. And, when it does it'll be pimped out with podcasts, new contributors and all the shiney awesomeness that you deserve to have in a blog.
I'm also off to Europe for a month.
Karmacake - For the girls who cried when Teen took over Sassy. And, for the guys who think I'm witty.
See you Late Fall, or sooner!
KC
Michael Moore stunned me again, this time with his new film "Sicko". This heady look examins the destructive nature of the American Dream and how the all mighty dollar is resulting in the needless deaths of Americans.
Insurance companies are useless and privatized healthcare does not work.
Thank you Canada for not putting me in a taxi and driving me to skid row when I don't have enough money to pay for treatment.
Thank you Canada for not giving me a choice on which finger to sew on based upon cost.
Thank you Canada for not being America, regardless of the Prime Minister who may be in parliament.
gross.
Random Flowers by Karmacake
Ping pong
dowittle de dottle said to me
An anthropomorphic imagination
from an LOLCAT author"Iz in yo garden stealin yo daisies"
"Iz in yo head stealin yo heart"
Replied my kinetic thoughts.
Blossoming
Hush Hear the Germination.
Dowittle de dottle sprouted from Mother
Dowittle de dottle has grown on me
Like Random Flowers in an Anthropomorphic LOLCAT nightmare.
For Parul.
I saw this photo online and I felt compelled to share it.
I kind of think it's beautiful.
Regardless of the way that people carry themselves in public, you never know who is truly in love.
You might think.
But, you don't know.
2 rants in 24 hours.
I'm on a roll.
One was on the subway - I do like an audience.
I didn't realize how strongly I felt about gift giving until Mattimus suggested gifting cash to an engaged couple.
5 subway stops later and a lot of loud naysaying, I owe it to let the world know, it's not so much the act of giving cash that I find grossly offensive, it is the couple's request to be gifted cash- in exact denominations- with the purpose of paying for their honeymoon.
Dirty.
Careful thought led me to blog a guide for all of us who are entering into the age of weddings and the presents we must gift. Follow me, the rant does not end here - I'm only getting started!
Remember - Technically, no one is obliged to bring a gift to a wedding. If you do get them a gift, you're just expressing your goodwill and support of their marriage. With that said there are some rules!
While I believe that if someone wants to buy you the gold standard of sugar bowls, why deny them the opportunity? However, don't limit them either. Set up your registry with a wide variety of items in different denominations so everyone can buy you something you like.
While giving cash is not a terrible gesture, there is no polite way to ask guests to give you money. So just leave it up to the individuals, and if you don't like the gift you can return it for what you would like.
There are so many stupid and impratical rules associated with cost. Throw them out the window and gift give within your means. The thought does count, and it should keep on counting because you're going to have to go through gift giving hell multiple times over from now to eternity...
Your friends will have kids.
They will expect presents as well.
Better open that GIC!
Never since the day that BlueMountain.com came into existance has there ever been a better way to send a greeting card.
Until now.
From mildly lewd to wildly inappropriate, someecards.com has brought ironic sincerity to the unenthused world of online greetings.
Think of it like this: Someecards.com is what magnetic poetry is to... poets.
Created by a couple of online advertising creative directors and a solitary art director, someecards.com has the appearance of stemming from humble beginnings but, when you look into it, Brook Lundy is a contributing writer for The Onion News Network (hilarious!), Jerry Tamburro is a talented mofo, and Duncan Mitchell, well he like Burritos.
And, you know what? So do I.
They are...
Delicious.
Delicious like our shared interest in using blogger to host our blogs. It's true... us creative types are on the same wavelength... but, I digress.
Hello, hilarious pervayors of entertaining online greetings. Farewell to resorting to Hallmark's Hoops & Yoyo
Check out Someecards.com and allow the mighty triumverant of online greetings to curate your life with their impeccable wit.
All you need to do is click.
"Just one more click! If I can get like a million people to join in 1 week I'll be laughing! This contest is going to be so easy!"
Welcome to my Facebook addiction - the crack cocaine edition.
It started off like any other 102.1 the edge radio contest although, this time, listeners were invited to create a Facebook Group with the largest number of members to win $7,000.
Who knew that it was going to resort in groups getting shut down, servers getting bogged, and users getting royally pissed! Who knew that it was going to resort in my code red addiction to acquire new members to join. Late night strategy meetings and an intimate understanding of Facebook's terms.
Well, yours truly is in the contest!
Heck with $7,000 in my pocket, I can't deny that it would be very useful to have at this moment in time.
So arm and arm with my tech savvy boyfriend we create a Facebook group, invite our friends, create playlists, quizzes and discussion boards to engage our users. We reveal where we plan to direct the funds including upping my pledge towards my friend's bike ride to Montreal to assist those living with HIV/AIDS and paying off student debt.
We understand that the bottom line of this contest is loads of free advertising for 102.1 the edge. While that doesn't upset me, it has gotten a number of Facebook user's knickers in a knot. With their own backlash groups arising with titles like "No, I will NOT join your 'Help _______ win $7000 from Edge 102.1' Group". While they are obviously getting out their message of unwavering solidarity, they fail to recognize that their group is also contributing to the overall advertising campaign of 102.1 the edge.
In the end, we are all the same.
So while, Matt and I do our best not to spam, to try and find kind hearted folks to join our group outside of Facebook. Short of promising to get a tattoo if we win the contest, we are hoping some faithful Karmacake readers would sign up.
Will you help us out? Good Karma will be had for all! Maybe some cookies at a victory party!! mmm
Hope you help us out. We would love to have you!
http://utoronto.facebook.com/group.php?gid=2354049266
Matt and I are not only raging Awesome-holics, but we need your help!
We're in a contest that is trying to create the largest facebook group for the radio station Edge 102.1FM in Toronto. So, we need people, like you, to join our group and help us win!
Portions of the money we win will be given to local charities and we plan on throwing a huge party at Revival in celebration - of course, only if we win.
CLICK HERE TO JOIN
There's one girl ahead of us on facebook with 218 friends... Help us beat her! Join our group, invite your friends and help us win win win!
read more | digg story
Want for a fork I'm left to eat my pasta with chopsticks and read over the latest headlines.
Vegans Sentanced for Starving Their Baby - New borns are not intended to live on a diet of soy milk and apple juice. Apparently, a Vegan's breast milk is far from being vegan.
Japanese sleep, shelter in cyber cafes - The minimum wage working class are resorting to sleeping in cyber cafes because rent in Tokyo is much to high to cope with.
Soko - I know nothing about her except for she's French, she has a beautiful accent and her song "I'll Kill Her" is in high rotation on my imeem.com playlist.
xo
m
So you love Winterlicious? You're all about the prix fixe menues? What happens if I told you that now you can have prix fixe at your favorite spas across the GTA?
Yeah, I lost it a little bit as well.
Beauty and Bliss
How was I supposed to know my day of eating pot noodles, booking venues and quelling the hot tempers of collegiate academia was going to result in a phone introduction to the I Rub My Duckie - Paris.
Honestly, any person wearing a feather boa and sporting a Swarovski crystal in it's beak is in fact, up to something sinister - This rubber duck is no exception. Ladies, it's a vibrator - in the shape of a rubber duck.
If going to your local XXX "Love Boutique" was too overwhelming for your sensitive feminine spirit, or ordering questionable items wrapped in discreet brown packaging over the internet was too surreptitious, you now can log onto Modwomen.ca and purchase the "I Rub My Duckie" for less than $50 and feel less like an over sexed porn elf.
Mind you, you'll be riding a rubber duckie, but, at least it doesn't look like a penis! Some may even argue that it's more fun than a conventional vibrator with three vibrating points to stimulate your over 3000 nerve endings on your body. But, who are we kidding? Chances are you're going to be concerned mostly with testing our the vibrating beak, head or tail on one spot in particular and we all know where that isn't located.
The duckie is a perfect gift item if only for its novelty factor and apparent usefulness. Trust me, this is one gift that will keep on giving and won't cause embarrassment when your mum sees it pop out of your underwear drawer. Who's to know that the rubber duckie is your part time lover?
So hop on over to Modwomen.ca and pick up the I Rub Duckie and give yourself a Quackie.
;)
PS - Ernie, your rubber ducky's all grown up now and is making women around the world moan "I Rub My Duckie, You're the One!"
Check out Peep Show. It's truly an entertaining tv show. Thank you Channel Four and your obsurdly entertaining writing.
The moment I heard this line, I knew I was okay.
"I figure if some duke wants to buy us the gold standard of sugar bowls, I say milk them until they're dry!"
then, I knew it was love when I heard this one:
"I love modern times, with it's meaningless branding and veneration of tyrants"
Online Videos by Veoh.com
The incredible DJ Dalia (Never Forgive Action, Hip-Hop Karaoke) has been nominated for Best DJ and Best Female DJ at Canada's largest DJ Awards: STYLUS DJ AWARDS!
Click Here to vote for her and if that doesn't work cut and paste this link in your browser: http://www.stylusgroup.ca/survey.php
Categories are determined by VOTES so please support!
Polls close in only 2 days! Please support DJ Dalia because she is not only an amazing DJ she's a great person and a fresh thinker... Hellooooo Hip Hop Karaoke?
So Ladies and Gentlemen, go and vote. Good Karma will befall upon you.
Ryerson Fashion Grads seem to all do something wicked cool.
Take Freedom Clothing Collective, for example. This Bloor/Ossington hearth of local designers is known for reworking vintage fabrics into new designs fit for urban hipsters.
Yep, this is THE place to go to find one of a kind pieces all crafted in a potent backlash to the disposible nature of the modern fashion industry. Here you will find sassy accessories, darling dresses and charming accents to add spark to your wardrobe without breaking the bank.
Yes, sometimes social justice comes without a hefty price tag. And, sometimes fairly traded fashion can be wearable without exploiting hemp stocks.
Well, FCC is reopening after a short hiatus, and they are doing it in style. See the invitation to the right. I'm going to go and check it out for sure, to see what finds I can score.
Come celebrate the return of your future staple shopping destination.
Address is 939 Bloor St W (one block west of Ossington)
Hours :
Monday to Thursday 12pm-6pm
Friday & Saturday 12pm -7pm
Sunday 12pm - 5pm
Website - http://www.freedomclothingcollective.com/
I'm feeling fly yo cuz I'm at the boat yo.
With the double rock beat drop steal my skeez Karaokay
Uh, a hip hop karaokay.
White girls busting up rhymes
Hood rats lookin fine
Asian kid spittin shit
I ain't taking it
pour me another drink
Cuz - I - don't - rap.
My style is like buttah, and yours is parkay.
Okay enough of that. I'm no rap star and I have no desire to be a rap star, but, tonight I had to check out Hip Hop Karaoke. It's the hottest night in Toronto and in it's 3rd run it's bringing out an impressive crowd of hoodrats, beatniks, wannabes and, yes, even their own brand of die hard HHK groupies. Unmistakably, the groupies sport HHK T-shirts and are not working the night.
So don't ask them for a drink. They don't like that.
Regardless of how many of us were biting at the bit to hit the stage, only one of us hit the mic. I satisfied myself by taking pictures of folks on stage, the National Post photographer, the ill fitting disco ball, the crowd, and the ice buckets hung with wire from the ceiling to catch leaking drips. Derrick (our resident HHK rap star) did well! He did so good he had the crowd cheering him on when he sang the chorus.
Now, there is no fancy monitors, no instrumental cd's with back up 
vocals. There is you, a mic, and the DJs spinning the beats to a barrage of popular hip hop tracks. Parul was verbally distressed over the absence of Tupac on the menu and went so far as to say she may never return. Because Tupac for Parul IS Hip Hop.
Yes, The Boat (158 Augusta Ave) is a hole that is the hole in the wall in Kensington. Walk in the nautical inspired front door, up the stairs and into a deliciously kitschy 70's den complete with mirrored portholes. The drinks are cheap ($5) and are heavy on 
the booze. Watch out though, if you drink it's inevitable you're on a heading towards one sowwester of a drunk. Thank you free pouring bartenders.
Go. Enjoy HHK. Next one is on May 10th, I'll be there with my crew. Make sure you get there early and grab a table. Not only does it fill up fast but song sign up opens at 9pm and fills up equally fast.
And, I'm learning a song for it as well. I'm going to "tear it up" I'm going to "burn the muthafucka down."
blah blah blah.
It was fun... and next time I go it won't be post extreme illness.
Who says Karmacake never gives you anything?
Click on the image for free chicken at Popeye's all across Ontario.
Enjoy!
Ever marvel over how unexpectedly life can change?
Jobs, people, tastes in clothing, food and especially the unforeseen beginning or end of a relationship. And, while these events may occur separately, there's always the issue of the "relationship" that never fails to be the main topic of both excitement and fear.
So while I sit in the house and contemplate my own romantic apprehensions, I fret that maybe my theories on romance are completely incorrect. It is entirely possible that I unnecessarily martyr myself instead of falling in love. That my quest to love and honour myself has derailed my perception of what naturally is meant to occur between two people.
Now and then, when face to face with a budding romance I will become the martyr of self-sufficiency and delete these men pre-maturely from my life. Removing them from my phone, MSN and facebook is something I do to prove to myself I am not needy, co-dependant or desperate. So why do I feel disappointment when I am the one playing the role of the wicked witch locking myself in the tower?
Because I am also the designer clad princess waiting for my prince to come and save me from myself.
Holy! I can finally blog in Hindi!
That's amazing news, thanks Blogger. To celebrate I want you all to enjoy this clip of Will Farrel arguing with his "Landlord".
It's okay to laugh.
It's funny.
I'm going to learn Hindi now.
The moment I saw her shimmy with Buck 65 many moons ago on Much More Music - I fell in love.
She was the soundtrack to my Summer of '05.
I think she's going to be the soundtrack to my Summer of '07.
1-2-3-4
Tell me that you love me more.
one, two, three, four, five, six, nine, and ten.
money can't buy you back the love that you had then.
one, two, three, four,
tell me that you love me more.
sleepless, long nights.
'sides what my use was for.
oh, teenage hope,
throw light at your door.
left you with nothing,
but they wanted more.
oh, oh, oh,
you're changing your heart.
oh, oh, oh,
you know who you are.
sweetheart, bitter heart,
now i can't tell you apart.
cozy and cold,
put the horse before the cart.
those teenage hopes,
through our tears and the lies.
too scared to run off,
to one little life.
oh, oh, oh,
you're changing your heart.
oh, oh, oh,
you know who you are.
one, two, three, four, five, six, nine, and ten.
money can't buy you back the love that you had then.
one, two, three, four, five, six, nine, and ten.
money can't buy you back the love that you had then.
oh, oh, oh,
you're changing your heart.
oh, oh, oh,
you know who you are.
oh, oh, oh,
you're changing your heart.
oh, oh, oh,
you know who you are.
What do I find funny?
The schizophrenic weather this April.
Edward Scissorhands.
Can you believe it? 17 years after the movie is made, Matthew Bourne decides to choreograph Edward Scissorhands as a ballet. It's okay to be skeptical, I was too.
Then I watched it.
Joining me were part of my regular posse, Parul, Melissa and Derrick. And, although I disappointed them by appearing without being apart of the show, the gratis tickets I brought weren't enough to fend off comments on my "scrubbish" attire. I have only to thank the abstracted effects of what inevitably was my friends getting high before the show. For without that, I'm sure Derrick would have had more to say about my shapeless halter & sneaker combo I was rocking
After we settled in our seats in the most remote location possible in the theatre and were only allowed ONE PROGRAM PER COUPLE, I joined the chorus of bitter balcony goers calling either the show's producers or Hummingbird "Cheap Bastards". I really live for those rare moments of comraderie.
Once it all began the show about the uncommonly gentle man re-shuffled his way back into my heart. I forgave the sloppy dancing, I forgave the overly long ensemble scenes in the second act, I even forgave the dude that gave me the shittiest seats ever after my left leg cramped for the six billionth time because of the inexcusable lack of leg room. I forgave it all just to hold audience with the dancer who resurrected the role of Edward with such accuracy that it was like watching Johnny Depp.
While the show was a little more than tolerably good, don't expect to sob like you've lost your love. Really, the star features of the show include the music by Danny Elfman, the dude who plays Edward, and the fantabulous sets. Full stop.
I was intrigued enough to stick around, but, many of my acquaintances simply upped and left after the first part. I do think that for the artistically curious Edward Scissorhands is a safe bet.
Spoon fed ballet with a peppy twist. Although, for a ticket price of anywhere from $50-$90 it is a bit of a rip. By using the Promotional Code: STUDENT you can score yourself a $27 ticket, which is a bit more reasonable.
Tonight is the last night, on a scale of 1-10 the show ranks as a 5. Entertaining but not life changing.
Afterwards, we ate burgers at Irish Embassy and enjoyed a $5 bill with Rage Against the Machine. I passed out from exhaustion resulting in missing the Nelly Furtado afterparty at Revival.
That's it for another installment of Karamacake's Adventures in the city.
Aretha Franklin sings better than you, your cousin, your friend who kills at karaoke and your mom's tender voice when she lulled your infant self to sleep.
Yes, Aretha Franklin is the legend and she serenaded me last Friday at Roy Thomson Hall.
While the set opened up with a set of her most haunted tracks (Respect, Natural Woman, Chain of Fools), floated with the Jazz stylings of her "impossible to locate the name of" 22 piece big band and settled into tracks off her soon to be released CD, Aretha: A Woman Falling Out of Love
Women were wearing their church pearls, youngling admirers presented the Queen of Soul with bouquets of flowers, beads of sweat were whiped off of fevered brows and a 5 minute set of "GEEE-ZUZ!" piously encouraged maladroit white women to thrash their arms excitedly, with only the occasional flap landing on beat.
I do believe I saw a few individuals flee fearing for their lives.
I merely sat calm and composed enjoying the rare display of enthusiasm from the all to oft cold Toronto audiences. Yes, white women, you thump, wallop and swish your appendages as violently you like... for you wag your colourless wings to a legendary voice.
Let them live out their fantasy of being in Aretha's band. To be a back up singer, or perhaps to be the tambourine player.
Rhythm and sass, the two things required to be a successful tambourine percussionist. The position, currently being fulfilled by "Insert name of the nameless woman who entertained me thoroughly with her tambourine stylings" would be revered by many a woman.
You want to tour with Aretha?
You don't have much talent?
YOU CAN BE HER NEXT TAMBOURINE PLAYER!
I could see the natural hunt. Posters, flyers, ads and perhaps even a reality show. ARETHA'S TOP TAMBOURINE PLAYER!
Line ups would be long, stretch for miles of potential hopefuls. And, the reels of uncoordinated bad auditions would be edited in for comic value. The woman who fashioned a giant hoola hoop tambourine. The one who brings in castenettes. Or, the Lady Godiva impersonater with bells on her toes who gets irate when the panel of judges, occupied by Stevie Nicks, Tracy Partridge and Davey Jones try to tell her she just doesn't have the talent.
But, one will surpass them all. One woman from the down and out streets of Harlem. She, the one intended to be Aretha's lead Tambourine player, wowed them all. Her double handed technique shouted legend. The shimmy was the perfect soundtrack to her dancer like moves. And, her passion, ah yes, above all her unshakeable life long PASSION for the tambourine can be felt by all.
Enviable glance from the white women.
Joyous glances from me.
This was a really weird post. I swear I am sober.
And, this tambourine player exists!
Thank You, Alanis.
You are all woman in a non-cheesy exploitative way.
Ryan Reynolds, what were you thinking splitting up with her... for Jessica Biel?
ugh.
Sooooooooooo generic
Sing it, Beyonce.
Girls, we've all been there. Some are probably there right now, in fact. But, if that guy ain't givin you want you need then it's okay to pack your cat and go.
Communication is worth it's weight in gold. It'll take the guy with tons of potential and reduce him to "loser" status.
Boy, pick up the phone and call your woman. We like it, we don't care when you call, we just like it when you do. You have to talk to us to get to know us.
Otherwise...
Kitty Kat
You know I hate sleeping alone
But you said that you would soon be home
But baby that was a long time ago
I'm not feelin' it [2x]
On top of you not calling me back
You see I bet you think it's all on track
And you actin' like it's all a dat
I'm not feelin' it [2x]
Let's go, let's go Little Kitty Kat
I think it's time to go let's go Little Kitty Kat
He don't want no mo'
Let's go Little Kitty Kat
Quite frankly No mo' getting it
I'm not feeling it
It's like we at 2 places but different paces
We in trouble but you won't meet me at the bridge
It hurts and feels disearning
Did you forget where joy lives
What about my body, body?
You don't want my body, body
Acting like I'm not nobody
You gon' make me call somebody
What about my body, body?
What about my body, body?
You would rather go and party
Somehow, somewhere I'll be naughty
You know I hate sleeping alone
But you said that you would soon be home
Baby that was a long time ago
I'm not feelin' it [2x]
On top of you not calling me back
You see I bet you think it's all on track
And you actin' like it's all a dat
I'm not feelin' it [2x]
Let's go, let's go Little Kitty Kat
I think its time to go let's go Little Kitty Kat
He don't want no mo' let's go Little Kitty Kat
Quite frankly No mo' getting it
I'm not feeling it
Let me show you how to get there
Take a left to compassion (lights will be flshin')
Keep straight and you'll see the sign right there
Affection (You're in the wrong direction)
If I get caught see it just seems that you don't care
What about my body, body?
You don't want my body, body
Acting like I'm not nobody
You gon' make me call somebody
What about my body, body?
What about my body, body?
You would rather go and party
Somehow, somewhere I'll be naughty
You know I hate sleeping alone
But you said that you would soon be home
But baby that was a long time ago
I'm not feelin' it [2x]
On top of you not calling me back
You see I bet you think it's all on track
And you actin' like it's alla' dat (you're sex ain't all that)
I'm not feelin' it [2x]
Let's go, let's go Little Kitty Kat
I think it's time to go let's go Little Kitty Kat
He don't want no mo' let's go Little Kitty Kat
Quite frankly No mo' getting it
I'm not feeling it
I'm taking back the things I got from you (you)
And that includes my sweet little nooky too (too)
Let's go
Let's go, let's go little Kitty Kat
(Kitty Kat) He don't want you anymore
Nooooooooooo [2x]
[Spoken]
Got diamonds on my neck
Got diamonds on my records
Since 16 I was coming down ridin' Lexus'
How you gon' neglect this?
You is just a hot mess
You can call Tyrone
You ain't gots to lie Craig
What about my body, body?
You don't want my body, body
I'm in the house all alone, you rather go and party?
What about my body, body?
You don't want my body, body
Acting like I'm nobody
You gon' make me call somebody
Let's go, let's go little Kitty Kat
I think it's time to go
Let's Go Little Kitty Kat
He ain't want no mo'
Let's go Little Kitty Kat
No mo getting' it I'm not feelin' it
Back in the day I said "I have a celeb crush on the lead singer of Maroon 5"
People laughed at me.
Okay, tall, talented, plays guitar and looks great on film... let's be serious, we would look hot together.
Enjoy, sexy man, hot new video, decent track.
Delicious Lifefest.
My once a year pilgrammedge to the Metro Toronto Convention Centre turn Shopper's Drug Mart where every product is sampled and every sample is a product to be found at Shopper's Drug Mart.
I really don't believe that my Saturday could have been anymore perfect.
Did I mention there was alcohol this year? Yes, there was, samples and samples of Corona Light, Mike's Hard Light and
Wild Vines were being handed out lending buzz to this whole biz.
To be fair, the alcohol is necessary when you first make the decision to decend into the estrogene laced pit of sample hungry women. Honestly, there's one thing that we are as a gender, and that is hungry for a bargain and murderous for miniature versions of our favorite products.
Life Fest is a take no prisoners kind of event. You go in, you grab a bag and you fill it with as much free stuff as you possibly can! This is advanced Halloween trick or treating, kids.
So after flirting with the Chris & Tal Better Foods' owner, Chris, and after I consumed a pack of maltezers and while I was getting irate over women floating and bumping into me like gnats in rural Ontario, we saw it.
The white curtain.
The gateway to product.
The backstage area.
With my girls in tow we charged behind the scenes and there it was. Product, hundreds of skids of beautiful full sized unsampled product! Now, it was time to get our $20 worth!
After 15 minutes behind the curtain, I successfully acquired, through the help of marketing representatives and event staff, full sized bottles of detergent, face wash, shampoo, disinfectant, air fresheners, razors, razor blades, dishwasher detergent, and microwave egg cookers.
I left Life Fest with enviable glances from other patrons, I left being the Queen Conquerer of the Beauty and Wellness trade show.
Yep, my bags were full and I didn't have to wait in line. I had others fetching the things for me.
That's right, I always do it up in style!
Have you ever had a strong feeling of destiny? Not a wacked out deja vu day dream sort of feeling.
I'm talking about a sense of purpose.
Ever since I was a child, I always believed I was going to help others, be a celebrity of some sort, to be involved with politics or a politician and to lead by example. It's not something I've doubted. It's just what I'm meant to do.
This entire weekend has been a testament to my eternal sense of purpose. Beginning with my audition tape filming, to my passion towards global politics (started researching the politics of Zimbabwe for an upcoming article), and tonight, yet again, I was first on scene for a first aid emergency.
While relaxing over Coney Fries at a local Firkin, waiting to go and see my friend Paul's band Amber Room play at Neutral, I look out the window and notice a man walk, shake, stumble then have a siezure propelling him face first into the pavement.
Grabbing my things I run out the door.
I have to go.
Not only am I a First Aid Instructor, I need to make sure he's taken care of for my own well being.
With an arrogant med sci student and a masochistic "paramedic" errors were committed right left and centre. Each one making a point to assert their "qualifications" more readily then they were able to observe the basic rules of delivering effective first aid assistance.
Immediately, I was pushed aside by these lofty men keen on taking command. I was unwilling to endanger my own health by covering my hands in the man's blood by engaging in needless - and potentially endangering - advanced first aid skills. It put me in a disadvantage, established a barrier and prevented the casulty from acquiring efficient first aid treatment.
I was starting to get irate. They were moving the man's head (he may have a spinal injury), they were needlessly opening his airway (his head was to the side, he was breathing), they were preventing me from checking for a medic-alert bracelet, they were forcing assistance on him when he came to.
My friend Brady arrived, covered me with his jacket and was trying to pull me away. I wanted to try and calm the situation down, that is what I'm good at. Acting quickly and efficiently under pressure and assisting others is my gift.
Brady was right, the best thing I could do was to stand back. The errors were beyond my control to repair. And, I was not about to contract HIV in the process of trying to convince others that I am qualified to assist. I'm not just a women!
At the end of the day, it's not who is the hero.
It's who saved a life.
One night.
One audition tape.
One crew.
Two Locations.
One over extending Karmacake.
I rocked on into the Ping Pong Puma event at Revival last night. Heavily attended by many fun and sassy folks. Including the Trailer Park Boys.
What did I do? Walk in, eat the perogies, udon noodles and grilled cheese sammiches. Steal Puma branded water bottles and water. Play ping pong (unsuccessfully) and ham it up for the camera. Including, interviewing a poster of Natasha Beddingfield.
You would be surprised to know that she sounds like a small Mexican child. She likes Flips, Famous Lovers and her history is Unwritten. You learn something new everyday. 
The Trailer Park Boys refused to interview on camera, however, we got stills with them. All except for Ricky. Nope, no Ricky. Ricky was really drunk, and I felt uncomfortable around him. Bubbles tried to be empathetic, however, he weasled his way out of being on camera by offering me a bottle cap opener with Leahy on it.
A bottle cap opener.
His groupies looked at me like this was a real score.
Do I look like I fucking care for your cheap assed tchochkas?
I didn't even touch it. I just stared at it and them in disgust.
I turned to the girl that was holding it high above her head and in my face, "Look it's so cool"
"Yeah, maybe You want it then. I have a nicer bottle opening at home."
Then some guy chimes in after they left. Also a guy instrumental for major ass sucking on Bubble's behalf contributing to my failed on camera interview.
"Persistance is good, but, he didn't want to be on camera"
"Who are you?"
"I'm a guy that-"
"Do you have anything to do with the Trailer Park Boys?"
"No, but, I work with-"
"Are you a legal rep?"
"No, but, I-"
"Fuck You."
I walked away, grabbed my crew, followed the boys to the green room and got still shots. But, not before I chilled with Devon Soltendieck, Much Music VJ, and sweetheart extraordinaire. I got a still with him as well for my tape. He wished me luck, we hugged, exchanged European kisses and parted ways.
I went to the Green Room.
I want my photos.
I want my audition tape to rock.
I spare you the details, but, the night was long and there were adventures.
I was sober.
Babygirl, you hold the power.
I have admit, although juvenile, I really enjoy Kenny vs. Spenny.
There's going to be nothing poignant in this post except for a 9 minute clip from the first half of my favorite episode.
Why? Kenny pulls the cruelest prank on Spenny in order to win the competition.
Below is a copy of the letter to both horrify you and entertain you.
You might experience the death of your soul. Truly, you will benefit no more from the experience that I post than to perfect find a remote amount of humour in one guy's audacity.Happy spring day! Enjoy!
President of Liberia Ellen Johnson Sirleaf will deliver an address at the University of Toronto as part of her two-day visit to Canada on Thursday, March 29 at noon in the Great Hall of Hart House.
Johnson Sirleaf’s address, entitled “Stand With Us, Canada: What Gives Liberia Hope”, will focus on how Canada can help Liberia set an example for African nations emerging from conflict. Premier Dalton McGuinty will be in attendance and Janice Gross Stein, Director of the Munk Centre for International Studies, will moderate a question and answer period following the address.
“The University of Toronto has been engaged for decades in the scholarly study of Africa through our African Studies program, and recently has built partnerships on the continent to fight the HIV/AIDS pandemic,” says University of Toronto president David Naylor. “We are honoured to welcome President Johnson Sirleaf and to hear her vision for the renewal of Liberia.”
Johnson Sirleaf is a Harvard-educated economist and the first woman to be elected head of state in Africa. Inaugurated as President in January of 2006 in Liberia’s first elections since the end of a 14-year civil war, Johnson Sirleaf is credited with taking steps to reduce corruption, build support from international donors, and encourage private investment in the West African nation.
WHO: Her Excellency Ellen Johnson Sirleaf, President of the Republic of Liberia
WHERE: Great Hall, Hart House, 7 Hart House Circle
WHEN: Thursday, March 29, 2007 at noon
Kids,
I'm going to say this once, and hopefully it'll correct a lot of ills out there.
But, this sign:
Apparently, young trendsetters are hungry to pimp it on the fairway. Out are the extreme sports of yore and in is the nouveau geriatric "play safe play hard" leisure sports.
Now trendsters can putt putt their way from the 8th green to stylin' in a whole array of generically safe prepster fashion. While the line boldly ignores the "no white after labour day" philosophy, I was disappointed to see not one shirt read "GOLF OR DIE!"
Lesbians will LOSE IT with the lines attention to comfort. Clothes are cut minus an appreciation for the female form. Images of models swim in shapeless golf shirts, waistlines pucker unexpectedly at the girth of breasts, skirts fall at unflattering lengths, and hoodies mimic the comfortable style of Lululemon. All visible on the line's website.
Ironically, the company description invites "Adventure junkies" to rejoice. For the days of conformist golfing fashion is now apart of the past.
Please.
McGill grads Geoff Tait and Bobby Pasternak have their heart in their right place. However, the line falls short of the company's key promise "Fashion not fit for the fairway"
Guys, not only is it fit for the fairway, it's fit for the elderly, the infirm and the chronically boring.
Competing American retailers have an exciting line of accessories that break tradition and will put the zip back in your golf attire. Try Ame & Lulu's Sassy Golf Belts and Cocchia "Styles that Swing"
Cocchia saucy style features, well cut polos, tweed gauchos, form fitting tops, and 30's inspired button seamed pencil skirts.
Or, if you can't be bothered to try and locate those items in Toronto, then head over to Urban Outfitters at Yonge & Shuter. Assemble your own sexy golfing outfit from their urban line of fitted t's, hoodies, pants including smocked waist convertible, cropped, and widelegged seersucker trousers. UO even has a few sassy golf skirts, romper short sets and fab accessories to keep you looking fresh and urban on the green.
Quagmire Golf is a disappointing Toronto start up that lacks the delivery of unboring and excels in generic lululemon spins that ignore the basic principal of dressing a lady.
We like to look and feel pretty.
Just because it's Canadian doesn't mean I can't say it sucks.
The nicest night of the year. The first real night of spring. I in my expertly applied smoky eyes and FCUK shirt/dress went out to dance like my knee wasn't popped only four days prior. Ask me where I ended up?
I landed on College St. but I ended up on fucking Church. Again!
And, I wonder why I don't meet any guys? Oh sorry, let me clear up the confusion:
straight
They still exist right? I mean are there still guys out there who like girls? Because, they are slipping further and further into the afterglow of my youth. Back next to my copy of Nora Jones- No, I'm joking! I don't listen to that shit. But, you know what I'm sayin, right?
Tonight though was a special night in the Gaybourhood. Tonight of all nights, I was introduced to Sasks. (ie- a lesbian pick up joint ripe with cat lovers.) Lookin as fine as I did, ready to cruise the hotties on College I'm left to crank the saucy dial up from sexy bitch pass ghetto sass straight on over to So Hot She Be On Fire and rocking it in a hiphop video.
Dem bitches be crayzee!
Yes, tonight I was introduced to the incestuous bullpen of Old Navy tank tops, crew cuts and cocktails served in ribbed half pint disposable beer cups. I ask, how did the feminim aesthetic leave these womyn? Did it get lost in the sea of Velmas? I will tell you what didn't get lost- this ethnic Daphne! I killed it on the dance floor!
Then I paid the price- been openly groped on more than one occasion. Bitch (that's me) had to hold it down and front when need be. Trust me, it wasn't easy what with the injury and all, but it was THE ONLY way that I could protect myself in the back AND in the front!
So when the novelty of womyn backing down to my supremacy wore off. When the awkward attempts to mimic my moves failed to entertain me longer. It was time to make my exit to the tune of “I really enjoyed watching you dance. You girls were holdin it down on the dance floor and you looked great. You really elevated the club.”
Uh- yeah! Hello, this is what a facial, an attention to style and a $300 dollar pair of jeans will get you. You can't invest and not work it!
Even if it's for a crowd that feared it... but, they all wanted it.
Style can be taught, sass can't.
I am a goddess with a will to succeed.
I am aphrodite, cleopatra, nephertiti all rolled into one and I don't wait for anyone.
You want me?
Come and get me.
I don't beg. I'm not your servant.
I don't heel. I'm not your slave.
I am a queen.
Treat me like one.
I will give you the respect you deserve.
Until then, worship me from afar.
Give me the gift of your thoughts and I will give you something to think about.
My weakness is my strength.
My heart.
My head.
My will to survive.
I don't fear your judgement.
Of all.
I don't fear you.
You fear
Me.
Once upon a time there was a GEICO commercial featuring two malcontent cavemen seeking satisfaction from a highly insensitive GEICO employee.
It was mildly funny. I will never admit to more.
Then one day, a few years later, an ABC executive gets off on the idea of featuring the aforementioned cavemen in a show treatment that includes such hilarious jargon such as "brand extension" and "marketing tie in"
You know what? I'm laughing at the idea now. No doubt, Caveman will be an undisputed success. Following such run away commerical to sitcom hits including the California Raisins, and CBS sitcom Baby Bob which revolved around the exploits of a talking Baby. I'll just stop there, I feel revolted at the thought.
Apparently, this single camera laffer pilot has piqued the interest of "Blades of Glory" directors Will Speck and Josh Gordon.
Yeah, the whole thing just gets scarier and scarier. The concept is a group of 3 Cavemen living in the US and dealing with everyday predjudices towards their kind. No doubt a poignant commentary on race relations within the united states.
Regardless, I can't shake the notion that sitcom programming is so simple... Even a caveman could do it.
yeah I know... terrible terrible joke.
Since I started blogging, I've documented my life, celebrity gossip, politics, arts, music and 
movies, books and yes, even speed dating.
So while I brave the adventures of Toronto with my hoodie in my satchel, my chin up and my phone only a stones throw away. I realized, I'm a girl on a quest to experience the life that will put a smile on my face and a twinkle in my eye. Yes, I want to fall in love. I want to fall in love with every experience, person and place I find.
Here are two older posts I thought I might repost for fun. They made me smile!
July 2006:
"So what do I like? Like Amélie I like the feeling of plunging my hand into a barrel of dried beans, but, I also like the feeling of wet grass under my toes, and the sunshine on my face.
"I like jumping into cold water and hyperventilating from the chill just a little bit before I catch my breath... I like to see the face of someone who cares for me look so worried so I also like to lay it on thick!"
----------------------------------------
-"...the reason guys don't talk to us is that they look at us and think 'That girl would never go out with a guy like me!'"
-"But, that's so untrue! I would totally go out with a guy like him!" Motioning to a tall, somewhat scruffy hottie waking towards us.
-"Yeah, totally. But, he won't talk to you."
-"Why!?"
-"Because you look like some guy's girlfriend."
-"But, I'm not!"
-"But, we look like we are. Simple"
-"I don't even know what that means. Do I need to dress sluttier?"
I have to admit, I didn't write this. It's a circulation from my Oxfam group on Facebook. It is however, very useful and might be of interest to those of you seeking social justice in the confines of our concrete jungle.
Also, I have stuff going on that I can't write about just yet. Soon, but, not yet.
FAIR TRADE/ORGANIC FOOD ON CAMPUS (St. George)
(updated March 2007)
-----------------------------
The Hot Yam!
Every Wednesday during lunch (approx 11:30am on) - fresh, organic vegetarian meals made from scratch by students every week! contact hottestyam@gmail.com if you want to help or for more info! Located: International Student Centre
33 St. George Street in the Cumberland House
-----------------------------
Diabolo’s Coffee Shop, University College:
Coffee bar at University College, (in the JCR) serving drinks with healthy vegetarian, vegan, and organic fare options. Pay a deposit at the beginning of the year and get a ceramic mug all to yourself for the year! Containers now all biodegradable!
Hours: Mon. – Thurs. 8am - 6pm Fri. 8am – 4pm
Located: University College, the JCR (Junior Common Rm)
-----------------------------
The Human Bean Café, Victoria College:
Started by Anneleen Naudts this year, The Human Bean is an organic, fair trade coffee cafe run ENTIRELY on a VOLUNTEER basis by STUDENTS. Everything is fair trade and organic: coffee, tea (inc. loose leaf), espresso, lattes, cappuccinos, hot chocolate, Camino chocolate bars, cookies, biscotti with much more! The Cafe emphasizes sustainability using an indoors vermi-compost system, biodegradable cups, energy efficient kettle, ALL reused materials and furniture, and biodegradable cleaning products!!
Bringing your own mug gets you a 15¢ discount!
Hours: Mon-Thurs 9-5 and Fri. 9-3
If you’d like to volunteer at the cafe, e-mail anneleen.naudts@utoronto.ca
Located: Victoria College, 91 Charles st.
(Old Vic’s main floor, beside bookstore)
-----------------------------
Innis College Café:
Owners Damon and Shahram Shahidi are always serving with smiles! This small café sells beverages (inc. smoothies), sandwiches and yummy with healthy and veggie-friendly options to choose from!
Located: Innis College (further entance)
2 Sussex Avenue, 416-977-7434
-----------------------------
The Coffee Shed at New College:
Serve fair trade organic coffee + baked goods and sandwiches. Located: Wetmore Hall, New College, 21 Classic Avenue
-----------------------------
Food for All Equity Garden:
The garden located on grounds of the UTSU (SAC), run by OPIRG. The garden is dedicated to the U of T Food Bank but also has Open Community Harvest policy, meaning anyone can harvest organic vegetables for FREE0. Mission is to promote and practice food equity, social equity, and environmentalism.
The group meets Tuesdays 4:30 and always welcoming new participants. For more info visit: http://hrc.sa.utoronto.ca/
OPRIG: 416.978.7770
UTSU: 416.978.4911
-----------------------------
Good Food Box:
FoodShare Toronto started the Good Food Box program to ensure that Toronto-area citizens of all income levels had access to healthy and affordable food delivered to your neighbourhood! The Good Food Box runs like a large buying club with centralized buying and co-ordination. Boxes cost between $12-$32, depending on the version each brimming with fresh, tasty LOCAL produce.
At U of T, Women’s Centre is a designated Good Food Box drop-off point. To find the closest drop off point to you or to learn how to start your own, contact gfbox@foodshare.net. For more information visit www.foodshare.net
Located: U of T’s Women’s Centre
563 Spadina Avenue, North Borden Building Room 100 *** (make sure you’re in the right BUILDING!)
(between Wilcox and College on the east side of Spadina) 416-978-8201
A prime minister is meant to unite not to divide.
Harper's outlook on Canadian unity is so pedestrian it's as if he's a 3 year old planning a national budget.
Oh wait.
He's an infantile planning a national budget.
Come on $700 million dollars in equalization payments to Quebec? Then everyone gets up in arms when Charest wants to apply it towards improving the lives of Quebec's residents.
Listen, at least Jean Charest is doing his job and keeping his people happy. On the other hand, Harper, not doing such a good job keeping his people happy. Sure we all hate budget time, someone always gets shafted. But, Harper's hack job at doling out the cash reminds me of a grade 2 homework assignment delivered and marked D.
"Steve, much improved on the penmanship! Technically, the page requirement for your budget isn't exactly being met if you double the size of your writing. Sorry.
"Doling out equalization payments in a vein attempt to garner more votes may have worked had Jean not re distributed them against your original designation. Now you have a big hole in your pocket and are dispised coast to coast.
"Enjoy sleeping on your Egyptian cotton on Sussex, because re-election is not in the cards for you. You are the leader who couldn't"
I really don't have time for the conservatives. They are just openenly corrupt!
Karaoke might be the Gladstone's biggest night, but that's not what draws this mixed bag of arts hungry bohemians to the hotel's ballroom. Congregating around small cabaret tables they huddle to warm up from the chill outside and anxiously glance at the bar waiting for it to open. No this isn't any normal Sunday night, any conventional night of underground arts and entertainment on Queen West. The hipsters are twittering with a particular brand of pretension tonight. The circus is in town.
Cabaret for a Cause to be exact.
And, while stilt-walking comedians weave through the modest audience coaxing smiles from the most stoic of arts nazis. It hardly evokes the feeling of when flint first struck stone in my panties whence I first glanced upon CK Model Freddie Ljungberg. It does however, pique my curiosity to know I will be sampling similar performances that will be taught to children in South Africa.
Yes, South Africa. The plot thickens. Stick with me here, it's the back story that really what makes it for me.
Enter Circus performer/Aerial Dancer, Stacey Clark's mother on a trip in
Lesotho (Luh-soo-too), Africa. Charmed by the strong community spirit of villagers she is particularly rattled by the disturbing truth that penetrates the community. Namely the children who are accustomed to surrender their childhood prematurely in order to contend with poverty, hunger and the pervasive threat of HIV/AIDS.
Mama Clark picks up the phone calls her daughter Stacey and proposes she bring her troupe (High Strung Aerial Dance) and her partner, Dean Bareham's group (Green Fools) down to Lesotho. The thought itself wasn't an awesome epiphany. In fact, for the past three years Stacey and Dean have forayed into the spiritually rewarding realm of workshops and education. With experience working with both children and adults in
remote Canadian communities, inner cities and on reservations, Lesotho's children posed a surmountable challenge.
They were ready to teach the kids how to play.
But before they could pack their diabolos and show the kids how to build self-esteem, while fostering an ongoing culture of HIV/AIDS education through performance, they needed to find equipment to give to the kids. Diabolos, balls, stilts, sneakers, you name it, they needed it in addition to their airfare. With generous donations from New Balance sneakers and similarly philanthropic circus equipment suppliers, Stacey and Dean were pretty much set.
But, travelling expenses, personal expense, random unexpected expenses had to be accounted for and this is where were join, back story to foretale. Enter Cabaret for a Cause.
While the entertainment was a random tableau of stupid human tricks, alluring juggling and bemusing acrobatics, I felt like an over enthuse three year old clapping incessantly partially through the amazement of the entertainment and partially through the joy of discovering the sound one's hands make when clapping.
It was a thoroughly enjoyable experience.
50/50 tickets were purchased and though I boasted that my tickets had numbers that could not
lose, I ate humble pie twice over. Once for not winning, and secondly for imagine the digital camera I would buy with the funds when the real winner donated his winnings back to the cause.
Cabaret for a Cause was the most entertainment I had in the Gladstone that didn't involve an inebriated rendition of "I Touch Myself". Yep, with Dean Bareham acting as the flamboyant Spanish MC in a red unitard, enjoyment was ensured where the alcohol left off. While, a small amount was raised that night, they did get the message out.
There are kids.
They don't have time to play.
We can help them.
For 10 dollars and an hour and a half of entertainment-
We all did.
Last night I decided I was going to meet up with my friend, Matt, and grab some drinks at a local pub.
Great idea, right?
Well it was until 7:15pm when Matt and I dramatically hugged, he twisted me, my knee dislocated and we both fell to the ground.
Yes, I did really do that.
With a Reiki Master on guard, and I in my craziness, I am helped to my feet where I fain absence of pain and make my way to the Shopper's Drug Mart. Once I have everything I need including an ace bandage and pain killers, I ask for a place to wrap my knee.
Although, I'm keeping "calm" I'm in serious pain and I need to get myself sorted out asap before the adrenalin wears off and I have nothing left to do but cry.
I will not cry.
I'm directed to the back of the store where I ask the Pharmacist for assistance.
-Please, I just dislocated my knee outside-
-You need to be some cold on it.
-Yeah, I know, I will, but-
He walks away.
-EXCUSE ME! I just hurt myself outside and it's quite serious!!
-Calm down.
-Trust me, I AM calm. I just need a room where I can bandage my knee.
-There's the waiting room.
I am Dumbfounded
-I have to take my pants down to stap my knee properly. Do you have a nursing room or something?
-No we don't
-A washroom?
-No we don't have a washroom
-You don't have a washroom... seriously.
At this point I'm moments away from welling up.
-Please, I need to fix my knee.
-*sigh* take a seat in the waiting room. We have a consulation room we just need to check to make sure someone isn't in there.
-Thank you.
I sit in the waiting room for up to 15 minutes. No one checked the room and I get impatient.
-Excuse me... was there someone in there?
-Yes.
-Please, I'm in quite a bit of pain. I need to strap my knee. If I don't do it soon I won't be able to walk.
-Hold on.
Woman goes in and comes out. Followed by a cashier and her dinner items.
WHAT! I, THE FIRST AID EMERGENCY WAS TOSSED ASIDE FOR THE CHECK OUT GIRL TO FINISH HER DINNER!?!?
Yes. that is so true.
Well, my knee is strapped and my ribs are mildly bruised and I must get my things together to get to work.
I had to vent about how evil the Shoppers Drug Mart at Bloor and Spadina is.
Who call for advice...
It's okay to like someone.
It's okay to like them even if they aren't fond of you.
It's not okay to chase them.
It's not okay to be unable to move on with your life.
You are not a slave to your emotions, they are apart of you and you shouldn't have to surrender to them all or nothing.
Further to that, why do you expect a relationship to happen over night? Just because you're intrigued by this person, it doesn't mean that they are there with you. So chill. If they see your inner beauty then they will call.
Trust me.
They will call.
I've said this a million times over, some of the strongest relationships that are in my life are those based upon partnerships. You both have strengths that work well together and you don't feel compelled to change them. Expecting fireworks everyday is unrealistic... you know what they say, "What goes up like a rocket comes down like a rocket!"
So what are you in a rush for anyway?
Just see what your strengths are and they will see them too.
Not every relationship starts off the same, not every person reacts the same way. People love differently. Respect that, respect yourself and be happy.
I'm not perfect. Trust me, my dearest friends. My problem is simply this, if I don't hear from someone, I assume it's over and I do my best to move on. Not every guy I meet is going to be obsessed with me. And, those that are, I'm disinterested in anyway.
So beyond a brief period in my life where I liked a guy so selflessly that I sacrificed myself and demanded the same from him. Later I realized, you cannot make demands and you cannot sacrifice yourself.
I shed many a tear asked many a question and emerged a person not pleased about having had gone through the experience. I understand it's made me a more enlightened person because of it. And, hopefully a stronger partner in the future.
So am I apprehensive about getting involved with someone? Well, of course! To the point that I crave excessive amounts of space by pushing folks away all so I can figure "things" out. I don't want to get hurt, I don't want to hurt someone else, I just want to be me.
Maybe that's my dysfunction? Maybe that's my baggage?
If my phone rings, I may not answer it. If there's a guy that gives me reason why I should answer it, I will. Because it's not attracting me that's the game, it's keeping me interested.
I recognize that dating is a power struggle. Women especially attempt to seek status by using their sexuality as a tool. So I seek to try and find that honesty of emotion. I refuse to whore myself and devalue everything that I have to offer. To date someone because you want their lifestyle is selfish and I despise it with everything I am.
I will never let my friends do that. To be a slave for status and wealth. That is to be earned, not to be bartered! There isn't enough goodness in the world.
For all of us, there will be someone we care for. It will be a person's goodness we will be attracted to.
Inshallah, they will see it in us too.
My confession.
I will not beg.
If you want me.
Come for me.
I'm working on a few different posts... but, until then, enjoy an oh so hip shot of my green and white knit sweater from yesterday AND my oh so fabulous pin that I sported.
I'm not looking to misrepresent myself.
I'm just keeping it real!
I'm not Irish.
But, I am stylish.
SO KISS ME ALREADY!
My rabbit hoodie is fixed! Thanks, Mum!!!
And, it's St. Paddy's Day...
So go on out... kiss a blarny stone, listen to some U2 and pretend you know how to dance a jig!
It's a holiday to get drizzunk because today we all are alcoholics.
So I'm going to be mozying over to O'Grady's on Church to catch up with the boys and look fab doing it.
Enjoy, Kids!
The world is against my love for George Strombo.
Do you see a pattern?
"I admire George's Style"
"You know he's short."
"I think George is a smart guy"
"I've seen him. He's short"
"I think I would be the most awesome A&E babe on The Hour. Don't you?"
"Listen, George is short. Get over it."
Ironically enough, when The Hour is on my phone rings.
"You know George is on TV right now."
"Wow. They actually allow him to be on tv?"
"Yeah, on The Hour! You watching?"
"No."
"I thought you love him."
"Not enough to obsessively call your friend every night to announce that The Hour is on."
"Are you making fun of me"
"What do you think?"
Anyway, during my semi regular stalking of Strombo.com I came across a fun little trick.
Thunderpuss Geisha, you will find this PARTICULARLY humourous:
 |
| 'What will your obituary say?' at QuizGalaxy.com |
Sometimes when I think there's no one out there I discover something like this:
I've been working on this particular piece for a while.
To look out the window is to be visually accosted by an impressive
cluster of sky scrapers- overwhelming to my small town Maritime girl
sensibilities. Although, once I resolved to explore Canada's largest city, the
swirling drone of traffic noise, sidewalk musicians, and street vendors was a
heady lure into a multicultural mix that was both curious and
inviting.
It was apparent the moment I touched toe to Yonge Street, I
willingly crossed a point of no return. Like Alice through the looking glass, I
had committed to follow Yonge St. towards a din of the city's hustle and bustle.
When I turn to see from whence I came I realized the road is infinitely long,
dotted with lighted decorations, quaint community flags, and signage advertising
the city sanctioned abolishment of left turns on Yonge.
Once at Yonge Dundas Square a bustling market is well underway.
Hundreds of booths with international vendors are erected across this small open
air space in the heart of the city. While the temperature outside is chilly, the
air has a warmth to it, and the former clash of generic city noise is quelled by
rich Iranian airs magically constructed by the musicians voluntarily taking
residence on the open air stage. The music, combined with the voices of vendors
selling their wares including rich Middle Eastern textiles, Italian gelato and
South Asian silk saris magically ushers me into an international utopia.
With my interest piqued and my courage growing I quickly climb
aboard one of Toronto's landmark streetcars. There I stand, proud and
courageous: the small town girl who demystified the great Toronto. Then as the
bell rang to summon an upcoming stop, it dawns on me, I don't know where I'm
going.
And, I really didn't care!
