Friday night was @joannawicz’s twenty-third birthday bonanza, and after a couple of pints of this and a couple of cups of that, I headed down to Cherry Cola’s Rock N’ Rolla Cabaret Lounge (I know, say that like ten times fast) to celebrate another notch in the belt for a bestie.
Here’s the thing. I had a great time, but I’m starting to get really weary of these bars that have a maximum capacity of about ten people—add to that a faceless bar front that you’ll probably walk past ten or fifteen times without even noticing. The punk band playing that night didn’t really help either. Regardless, good friends and beverages kept the night in sync, and I apologize to all of you that had to deal with the nasty musk that was whiskey emanating off of my breath.
Saturday night was a quiet dinner with the one and the only @marayna. After realizing that Grazie, La Vecchia and every other restaurant on Yonge street north of Eglinton was packed to the brim, we strolled down the alley way that leads you to Spacco.
Here’s the thing. The food was good. We enjoyed our meals, but the service was down right disgusting. I had to ask our waiter for one request three times…EVERY. SINGLE. TIME.
“Can I get a glass of water?”
“Sure”
…twenty minutes goes by…
“Can I get a glass of water?”
“Sure”
“BULLSHIT”
Anyways. Good food. Bad service.
I was also a little jealous because everyone and their mother seemed to be celebrating a birthday that night. One after the other, we experienced a deluge of poorly sung birthday songs, and my all day headache wasn’t getting any better.
We also managed to get seated next to what was probably Toronto’s largest cougar convention, and Marayna and I had the pleasure of over hearing the retarded escapades these full bodied women got themselves into.
As far as Fridays go, I think I’m constantly in a state of improving the outcome of each one each week. We’re always striving for the toppa most of the poppa most.
After whatever was Thursday’s dance craze and birthday bash for a friend, Friday had my body hurting to the core. But you know, hair of the dog and all that jazz. Just gotta suck it up.
Friday night started with drinks and terrible food service at the Wellington Pub. That place use to be so good. What happened?
Headed over to a friend of a friend’s house for a pre-drink party that resulted in meeting so many new awesome people, fakes moustaches and temporary tattoos. I’m still marveling at the generosity of the people I met that night, and how I felt like I’d know them forever. Good feeling.
We strutted into the Boat for what was a nautical theme dance party. When my buddy Webden said we were going to a boat themed party, @marayna and I assumed it would be on a real boat. We were also both sad upon learning that it wasn’t taking place on a real boat. Then we were going to bail. Then we decided we’d go, but with a shit load of judgement toward the place.
Long story short, even though we’re well past that point (Dwyer…let’s see if you caught that one), the dance party was incredible. The people were incredible. The night was incredible.
It’s a good thing because @marayna was gonna stay in that night.
Stay thirsty, my friends.
Photos by Marayna, obvi.
Fuck You - Cee Lo Green. Ok, this song has been stuck in my head for like two weeks. Webden showed it to me, and I love it. I love everything about it. If you don’t like this song, then there is something wrong with you and I will fight you.
I can’t help it. This song is my soundtrack right now. It’s fierce. It’s heady.
Saturday meant taking in another TFC game, and once again chasing the sunset. That’s how I look at my life right now, like a perpetual sunset. I don’t even know what that’s suppose to mean. Later that night meant climbing through a window to wish someone a happy birthday, and hammer down a tequila shot that wouldn’t quite sit in my mouth.
You can’t forget the late night steak and eggs munch down at the Griddle either. Classic.
Now I’m about to begin a mad shift of a working day: almost 24 hours straight.
I’ve got work to get done, because once I knock it out of the park, I’ll just be feeling exactly like this:
Vanessa Paxton went skydiving after raising funds for Lyme disease. She posted this video of her jump last night, and it seriously took my breath away.
Tacky Hall & Oates cover aside, this vid makes me want to skydive even more. It’s something I’ve been wanting to cross off of my bucket list forever.
Thank whatever is up there in the sky for outside fun. Seriously, who would have thought that a few kilometers out into the lake would have you pretending you were searching for the wild things?
Danielle Rose of Ginger Rose fame has just launched a new foodie blog, Pic Your Plate T.O. The blog’s purpose is to have foodies from all over submit pictures of their dishes, something I do a lot if you’re tapped into my mobile uploads:
Specifically, we want to highlight the fantastic chefs (at-home and professional) in Toronto! This is a grassroots way to share your culinary achievements, tips, and joys. We want you to know that food is so so SO much more than a human necessity… It is a social medium, it is an art, it is the spice of life! (No pun intended.)
The blog also has a non-profit twist:
Our eventual goal with this site is to generate enough traffic to gain advertising space, which we can then donate to a local food bank. (Full circle… Beautiful, isn’t it?)
After a hectic morning for what was probably THE best client presentation I’ve ever done, I had planned an entire team lunch to kind of let everyone know that they were doing great work and that it was all paying off.
We all decided that the new CopaCabana Brazilian Steakhouse might be a great place. They have a reasonably priced buffet menu at lunch, and it’s a shit load of food, or so I had heard.
For $11.99 you get your choice of meat or fish (steak or salmon or chicken), and as much as you can eat in potatoes, salads, pasta, bread and more from the buffet.
The steak was “eh”. On my first bite, it was the perfect amount of saltiness and cooked the way I asked for it—medium. But looking around the table we all noticed that the cooks had unevenly prepared everyone elses steaks, and a lot of them were not how we had ordered them. Wait staff was also a little cocky.
Those who had ordered the salmon found them undercooked. One co-worker ordered the Kobe beef burger, expecting something of a decent size. He ended up with something just a *little* bit larger than a slider. Disappointing.
I’ve heard a lot of good things about their original restaraunt location in Niagara Falls, but lunch yesterday was nothing impressive.
I haven’t spoken to my friend Antonio in a really long time, but he’s making moves with Toronto indie band, The Boys Who Say No. I’m pretty fucking proud of the dude—he looks like he’s finally playing stuff he believes in, and all that Cameron Crowe babble that usually follows with this sort of thing.
