Prattle on
Saturday, April 16, 2005
So, how do you feel about live guitar at parties? I'm not a fan. In fact it drives me nuts. Why does it happen? I guess people like that sort of thing but, for me It's up there with un-wanted drumming circles. And you know how I feel about that. I just feel that the guitar people end up monopolizing the social space and prevent others from having conversations. Also, guitar people generally do not pick up on social cues that signal the other party goers would like them to shut up already so that we can drink heavily in peace and perhaps mac on that hot guy standing by the bathroom. It's like that Metric song, they are the number 1 wet blanket. Because nothing kills that got guy vibe like some dude in a denim shirt doing his own special rendition of "No Woman No Cry".

But, last night may have been the exception that proves my rule. I went to a pretty fun party, hosted by a guy I play pick-up soccer with in Dufferin Grove park. As GRC and I walked up the street we could see into his kitchen window where there was not one but TWO guys with guitars strumming away. We almost turned around and left. Now, GRC and I are pretty intolerant and we're not very nice, but since the party was being hosted by a really hot guy, we went in. I was flabbergasted when as I walked into the kitchen I noticed that the guitar playing wasn't very loud (I was also extremely pleased to see blue cheese, pate AND roasted red peppers). Also, they were just having fun with it. Then after a little bit they stopped and when someone asked one of them if he'd play again, he said, "no."

I think that I may have judged some of the guitar people too harshly, because these two guitar guys were great.
Thursday, April 14, 2005

Ok, there are martinis in this city and there are martinis. Over the past few years the martini has become a very popular drink. So much so that martini bars have popped up, or at least many bars have decided that it would be a good idea to sell very fancy martinis and who can blame them? They are excellent intoxicants and they look very elegant in their fancy martini glass. Aren't we chic? For $12.00 you can get an over done martini in an over-the-top glass in an over-priced bar and the attitude to boot.

Martinis now come in various flavours, and for those of us who want that martini look but can't handle the unforgiving taste of straight gin or the cut of pure vodka I offer you the sour apple or the apricot. For my friend with an extra special sweet tooth, have a sip of a chocolate martini. And, if you are looking for a constant buzz, the coffee martini is always available.

I don't know the history of the drink or who invented it or what went into the first martini. I don't care if it's origins are found in the British Isles or of the Siberian steppes, but I know this: I'm a purist. I'd like a dry gin martini with two olives. Now.

Tonight, unfortunately, I went to a bar in the city - Gatto Nero - and ordered a martini. I first noticed that they put in three olives when I asked for two, then I noticed the olives were from a can (Shocking, since the bar is in little Italy) and I noticed that canned olives gives a martini a canned taste. Very disappointing.

So, I had to have a half liter of wine.

Wednesday, April 13, 2005
So, you know what I learned today?

There is a flood in my office and I learned that while using a wet vac, do NOT stand right in the path of the air it expels while it is sucking up water. Now, my throat hurts and I’m coughing like a homeless smoker. So, while the Wet Vac and I had a lasting and loving relationship, it has finally betrayed me.

Anne, the former building manager who has come back to deal with the situation for the landlord seems to think the flood is under my sole jurisdiction. She keeps talking to me about insurance and coverage and the rent, as well as the possibility of moving out stuff into an adjoining office. Today we had this conversation:

Anne: So, Debbie what time are you normally in in the mornings?
Me: 20 or 15 minutes to 9.
Anne: Well, the city is coming to take a water sample for testing at 8:00am.
Me: 8:00AM?!

Luckily, one of the cooks from the restaurant will be coming in to deal with it.

So, yeah, the city is testing the water to see if it is city water (therefore treated with fluoride) or some other kind of water. I like to think Warrick from CSI will be doing the testing, and that he will be coming to the office personally to deliver the results. But folks, that ain’t gonna happen.

A girl can dream. A girl stuck in a wet, mouldy, stinky basement 8 hours a day HAS to dream.
Monday, April 11, 2005
So, I finally got over the giant ass on the window of American Apparel and went inside to look at the clothes. Thankfully, there isn’t ass everywhere, and the soft core porn of their ad campaign is even softer in store. I got a real nice T-shirt and a skirt.

I had a great weekend, actually. The weather was FANTASTIC. I played some soccer. You know, I have to tell you that those first headers of the season, really take their toll. I went out on Saturday night and did some dancing, where I saw: The Freak of the Week.

Yes, folks I was upset about my freak of the week. It seems that I was seeing freaks daily until I started to record them on my blog. Well, it was all righted at Any Poolhall on Saturday night. Check it out, the bar was full of people dancing. Everyone was having a good time. All the dance bar types were out to play. Even the obligatory White-Girl Pseudo-Lesbian Show Duo (for those of you who don’t know, it is the two often white girls who rub up against each other while dancing to funk or reggae music in a transparent attempt to attract guys) was in fine form. Then I saw him, the perfect candidate for the Freak of the Week. This guy was wearing a floor length leather trench coat and he had his blonde hair slicked back. He went right up to the DJ booth, where there are full length mirrors. While dancing and pumping his fist in the air, he stared at himself in the mirror yelling “Oh Yeah, oh Yeah!” Then he caught sight of a friend of mine and gyrated in her general direction, only to look back at the mirror and continue his fist pumping and grunting action for another 20 minutes or so, until he left. Is it wrong that I LOVE people like that, and that I stare unabashedly when they come around? I hope not, because I do. I can’t help myself. It’s like a show.

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