que sera, sera (whatever will be, will be).

Today’s horoscope:

You should feel comfortable trusting the people who are in power right now -- your life might feel like a roller coaster right now, but that doesn't mean you are being taken for a ride. And any turbulence you are experiencing is not their fault. Be a team player! Now is not the time to let your emotions tell you what to do. Hedge your bets and stay right where you are. Moving away from the known can feel exciting, but it's simply not the best move for you right now.

Where I would like to have stayed put today would've been in Loverboy's bed. As I've blogged before, Sunday mornings are a family favourite. I firmly believe there is not much better in life than coffee under the sheets and (steamy, awesome, sweet...) sex before noon. Unfortunately, all that morning sex obviously threw me for a loop because after running (!!!) home in a mild snowstorm to change into my 'appropriate' work clothes, I hopped the streetcar & the subway just in time to make it to work... to find out I don't work. This is not the first time this has happened, either.

On my way home from 'wasting away' a couple hours reading The NY Times with a coffee & croissant at Starbucks, when leaving the sidewalk to board the 501 Queen, not only was I nearly hit by a car, but I was splashed harder than one of Ron Jeremy's extras. Only, you know, from a puddle.



Hey, this is Toronto. You never know.

Wet tights (and jacket, and scarf, and face..) and all, I trudged home in a beautiful snowstorm. "The kind of snowflakes Hollywood orders up for holiday comedies", someone once mused via text message.



I got splashed by a car. I've got a 7 o'clock class tomorrow morning. I made a beautiful lamb sausage, sundried tomato & spinach ragu for dinner that I couldn't eat after I found a chunk of glass in my first bowl. But that's all okay. I'm spending the night with the internet; food and design blogs of total & complete strangers dazzling me from afar.

I couldn't be much happier all considering.

so [sick] of love songs

Skipping math, again, and drinking with a select (preferred) few of my new friends & classmates seemed like a good idea at the time. Unfortunately, after one (two, three..) too many Molson Canadians at a sports bar 'cross from school led me to be hugging my toilet shortly after 5pm. I haven't been feeling normal since. Drinking at noon always seems like the best idea.

All I thought I wanted tonight was a pair of wool socks, about eight blankets, ginger ale and someone to spoon feed it to me through a straw. I got 3 out of 4, and that ain't bad. Besides, with no hunk here to drink ginger ale with and nurse my nausea, I can wear a one-piece long john suit with my wool socks and take pictures of myself on my living room couch without much embarassment at all. I meant well when I told myself I'd do my dishes, debone & brine the chicken I'l be frying for dinner for company tomorrow night, and you know, do the vaccuuming. Instead, I did some catch-up on a near-week's worth of Law & Order: SVU, meanwhile catchin' up with my favourite Winnipeg ex-boyfriend.



For now, I feel about as crazy as my curls, but I'm sure I have high hopes that I'll be feeling just fine, albeit a little frustrated, by midnight.

death of a ladies' man.

Chelsea Hotel at Midnight



After evidently accidentally opening a hostel accidentally, seeming to be exclusively open & free for my fellow I-Need-To-Get-Out-Of-Winnipeg'gers, a night to myself is a rare gem. I finally started school today, the "real" reason for my big move to the big city, so I finally had an excuse to say no to the Communist's Daughter, Sweaty Betty herself, and the ladies of Henhouse without looking boring or like a bad house-hostess.

With Leonard Cohen on the record player, the sound of the needle dropping lulling me to sleep on the couch with a load of laundry polishing itself off in the distance of my one-bedroom, all-fabulous apartment, I am so tired yet so restless and totally unsure of how to live by myself. After two months here, only two weeks of it have actually been without-houseguest and with the last foreseen one departing tomorrow, I'm totally freaking out. I thought I was looking forward to being all on my own again, but to be perfectly honest it couldn't come at a worse possible time. On Thursday my gentleman friend is taking off for Winnipeg for work & back to his other love from my hometown; a lady that I'm sure is just lovely, but is really one loaf of Winnipeg rye that I quickly find growing stale. I don't wanna be no sister of mercy. I need you, I don't need you. I need you, I don't need you. And all of that jiving around.


I remember you well in the chelsea hotel,
You were talking so brave and so sweet,
Giving me head on the unmade bed,
While the limousines wait in the street.

...

I need you, I don't need you.
I need you, I don't need you.
And all of that jiving around.

holy calamity (bear witness).

There are very few things I have in combination with bears; we both eat a fairly varied diet consisting of both plants & animals, we both have short, stocky legs, our courtship period is usually quite brief and there's always the shaggy hair. As of yesterday, I've got something new in common with Jellystone Park's finest. After Toronto's first (and hopefully only) big blizzard of the year on Friday, I have decided to hibernate until spring thaw. Thankfully, my gentleman-friend feels the same way.

Last night, we watched a marathon of 'House Party' on the Comedy Network- just enough Winnipeg to last me until I touch down in my hometown on Friday. Tonight, a late night at work didn't leave me enough energy to attend the Hannukah party I half planned on making the trek out to Thornhill for (an area more populous with Jews than Tuxedo- even their Sobey's is kosher), so I watched Law & Order in an oversized, overworn Notorious BIG tee instead and with it being midnight now, I hope to be asleep before 12:30.




Nothing could rouse me from my ambient state, except my new favourite breakfast spot west of the Nook: Saving Grace. I considered calling in brunch instead of calling in sick so I wouldn't have to rush my dark roast or his french toast with caramelized bananas this morning, but I could just imagine it.

"Sorry, boss! I've got to call in brunch. I'm afraid everyone in the neighborhood has it." You know, kind of like syphillus. Or an ironic moustache.

Photo credit to my friend Ren. You think he's checking his iPhone for text messages, but really he's taking pictures of strangers enjoying a morning-to-mid-afternoon of avocado, tomato, bacon & arugula on whole wheat while looking lazily into the eyes of their sweetheart from across the formica.

all's quiet on the inner city front.

The idea of a drunk blog post is in fact NOT as endearing as I thought the idea was last night. Good thing I recently learned how to delete blog entries. I know one of the approximate three people that read my blog has an iPhone and probably already saw it, but he also saw me in the state that led me to believe that a drunk blog post was a good idea so he doesn't count. I think the rest of you who read it are probably too poor, or too from Winnipeg, to own an iPhone. And that's a-ok.




What IS great is listening to Bruce Cockburn in bed all morning, especially with a big mug of Kicking Horse dark roast in your greedy little handss. I've gone into hibernation & thats a-ok too. There's more than enough heartland canadian folk music around to last me a lifetime, or at least a short Toronto winter.