"Blogging isn't journalism, it's graffiti with punctuation."

i’ve got love for you if you were born in the 80s

 on valentines day, NOW magazine had all these virgin mobile inserts you see here inside each copy. like little love/hate notes to give to your loved one/breaking-up-with one. so my friend andrew and i were hanging at Tequila Bookworm, picking out leaflet after leaflet from the NOW stack and just blowing these cards away at each other. we were literally pissing with laughter, i think the other tables thought us mad. great way to blitzkrieg the afternoon.

 that convenience store crack is a reference to a convo andy and i were having about this author i know. she’s japanese and sold her book to a publisher that used to buy only korean authors, but they changed the name of their publishing house so instead of “korean” it now says “variety.” so andrew quipped that it sounds like she sold her book to a convenience store. i PMSL. mostly because i hate her writing. she’s a nice lady, but her voice is trite and her talent is questionable. rant over. testing testing is this thing on?

this last one, he decided to write a sincere, nice one. 
awww. happy valentine’s bud. 
speaking of valentines, i was hanging out one-on-one with a man that i’ve kinda been playing a dance with for a little while now, ever since i saw him in a play and told him i liked his performance. then he got back to me and we kinda started talking. no big deal, but i guess something started to take hold, because he wanted to yap over coffee. so we did and it was lovely. super cool guy, we were having a nice long chat about theatre and life in toronto versus life in london (he lived there toooooooo!) and craigslist’s missed connections section, when this kid at the next table, who couldn’t have been more than 22, got up, interrupted us, and said, “i overheard your conversation about people in toronto not talking to anyone and about all the missed connections, so i thought i’d ask you out. i like your style.”

and i just look at the man sitting across from me, and then to the boy with the stretched earlobe piercings flopping down to his shoulders, and wanted to stab myself with a fork.

“ewm…erm…i…i…i…waa…..uh…orm…..flerrrrn…” is i think what came out of my mouth. i was rendered absolutely speechless.

MOR.TI.FIED.

i couldn’t exactly say, “i’m with this man, sorry,” because we were just meeting for an innocent cuppa and i didn’t know if he’d freak out if i used him as an excuse (although he did tell me later that i could’ve said that, dammit). and the kid just wouldn’t stop trying to chat me up right in front of my coffee-partner! AWKWARD.

i took the kids number in an effort to get rid of him and to shut him up, nonetheless he wanted to stay and talk ignoring that i was clearly with someone else.

i guess that’s what i get for shooting my mouth off loud enough for people to hear.

anyhoo, the man in question and i moved cafes to another joint, and talked for about 3 hours. then he invited me to his one-man show over the weekend. it was actually more of a cabaret style performance. great showtunes and songs, piano music, stories and anecdotes about love, french pastries and wine, art on the walls, it was really something.

and his personal stories….they were funny, they were poignant….i got a little emotional.

during intermission, his old school teacher, who was sitting next to me, hovers over me and asks in a sing-songy voice, “are you his girlfriend?!”

i think i replied something along the lines of “ewm…erm…i…i…i…waa…..uh…orm…..flerrrrn….”

you see this here passport. i’ve blogged about this several times before. bought the passport back in september when it first got started.

 AND LOOKY WHO JUST COMPLETED IT! in truth, most of the work was done in october, i was going to a new cafe like EVERY DAY in october cuz i was house sitting for max in parkdale and could just hop on my bike wherever i wanted when i was bored and enjoy a free cuppa with this pass. 
so favourite cafe discoveries? most of them were in the east end, a place most torontonians, for some reason, stay away from. go east, people, that place is hyyyype. 
these places got tops marks for vibe, atmosphere, friendliness, inspiring cozy decor, and of course, they’re top roasters.
Scraping the barrel shits on the list:
Cafe 260, Ground Level Cafe, Bisogno Cafe, Crema Coffee, Red Rocket Coffee (on Wellesley), and Linuxcaffe.
why were these ones the pitts? mostly because, although competent roasters, i didn’t like the vibe or sense of community (lack thereof) of the cafes. some cafes, although with nice decor inside and situated in good locations, don’t exactly have a nice, cosy, creative, inspiring vibe to them. they’re just kinda soul-less. linuxcaffe however, has a great vibe, but it’s on the shits list because my computer was hacked whilst using their unsecure-no-password-free-wifi (dude who hacked it sent me an email from my email account telling me he’d hacked it). mayjah stock plummeted as a result. 
 the indie coffee passport expires march 31st, so if you’re so inclined, there’s still time to buy one (from any of the cafes participating in it) and see for yourself. discover a new cafe. try a new drink. see if you can complete the passport like i did. toward the end of my indie coffee passport journey, every barista was inspecting my card and going “wow. this is the fullest card i’ve seen yet. you’ve checked out some great places.” 
damn straight. buzz is they’ll do this passport dealie again  next fall. suggest your favourite indie cafe to be added to the list!
oh sacha, behave.
again, another one of my tweets has gone viral. a few days ago, when the libyan clusterfuck hindenburg’d tripoli and gaddafi took to the airwaves for his shitstorm speech that bored everyone to death, i tweeted this. as you can see, it was RT’d 245 times within a few hours. i swear, sometimes the power of the internet surprises and shocks me. you say something, and if you have enough people paying attention, your ideas can reach out far beyond your initial estimation.
anyway, Gaddafi, you’re so old, you look like a klingon taking a shit. 

it’s my birfday this week oh gawd i’m turning thirrrrrrrrrrrty. you know, the only thing i don’t like about turning 30 is the way it sounds. people don’t like admitting their age because they don’t like how it sounds to others, but really, on the inside, i feel great. i actually ENJOY getting older. life feels more immediate. when i younger i was wracked with insecurities and i took so much for granted. now that i’m older, my problems are deeper, but i’m better equipped to handle them. i’m also filling each day with as much as i can, trying to enjoy all the people and the experiences that come into my life. people lie about their age because they’re worried about how OTHER people will perceive them and their station in society. but i know i look great (no wrinkles, no gray hair!), that most people mistake me for early twenties, that i haven’t lost my youthful vigour and enthusiasm, and i can’t imagine anything that will.
that being said, I am still technically 29 until March 2nd, dammit.
so i had a boozy brunch at the Gladstone Hotel to celebrate the milestone.

 sacha, dan and jonathan (& son Jacob)

so i was a bit worried at first that the 20-person-table i reserved at the Gladstone wouldn’t be filled because everyone kept bailing on me at the last minute (one of my friends actually messaged me to say he couldn’t make it because he had to “go to the gym.” people are such tools). but slowly the place started to fill with all of my lovely mates and we ended up having such a great time…until….

 teresa, kelly, and mads

…..i’ve mentioned in a previous post how there was this guy, this really ugly-sex guy that i made out with at sofi’s party a couple weeks ago, and how i’d probably have to start avoiding his calls, and texts. boy have i ever. not only has the dude been incessantly leaving me voicemails, or texting me, but he’s also been leaving me so many FB messages.

“hey sexy how are you?”
“hey what’s going on gorgeous?”
“have i told you how beautiful you are yet today?”

barf. i mean, these types of messages would be welcome if they weren’t from someone who looked like if you told him to go fuck himself, he’d give it a shot.

dude is terrifying.

and you would think that after all of his messages that i’ve been ignoring, he’d read between the lines and TAKE  A HINT but no.
 if the situation were reversed, and i kept texting and calling and FB messaging some guy with no response, i’d be labeled a “needy, desperate chick.” but when a guy does it, he’s just “assertive.’

joel, max, and reg

plus, it’s not like i can be at all flattered by his attention, seeing as how i’ve heard through the grapevine that he’s been sending the exact same messages to other girls that he fancies. dude got out of  a relationship recently, is obviously hurting, and now wants to be a man-whore with whoever he can find. but he probably shouldn’t be doing it with people who KNOW his ex-girlfriend.

so during the course of my boozy-brunch, when i’m having such a great time with my friends, and catching up, and being all squealy (i’m a squealer), guess who AMBUSHES it.

 sofi and patrick!

the look on my face clearly was one of shock and utter horror. WHO DOES THAT? who shows up, unannounced and clearly uninvited to someone’s birthday for the sole purpose of ambushing them. oh you won’t answer my desperate messages? guess i’ll go ruin your birthday!

and seeing as how we have some mutual friends (they’re MY friends, and his acquaintances-not-really), and they don’t know that he aggressively tried it on with me, they all starred at me when he arrived, wondering what the fuck he was doing there. and clearly when my look of oh-fuck-now-i-have-a-situation-on-my-hands burned across my cheeks, they probably knew something was up, and i will now hafta field some uncomfy questions.

 KEITH YOU RULE AT PHOTOBOMBS! oh hai jess and soph!

i was angry, i was mortified, but mostly i wanted to clobber him. if i had done that to a boy who was ignoring my texts, i’d be seen as a crazy psycho stalker.

so when most of my friends had left, he pulled me aside and asked “why are you ignoring meeeeeeeeee?”  wah wah wah, i’ll call the waaaaaaaaaaaambulance, dude.

do you really think you’re irresistable, you twat.

so in my most gentle voice that i usually reserve for 4-year-olds, i told him that getting it on with some bloke who used to date a girl i know isn’t for me. again, i assumed that by telling him this, he could read between the lines that I’M NOT INTERESTED. you are a douchey imbecile of the lowest order and you behave like a wife-beater.

instead, a few hours later after leaving, he sends me this FB message:

It was great to see you today. That dress looks exquisite on you, and makes your skin look delicious.

Thanks for filling me in, I must say I was disappointed I never heard from you. I was really excited to see you.

Anyway shhhhh…. discretion is the key:) I think your super sexy, wicked smart, and I like your style girl.

All the best babe.

regurgitate! regurgitate!
we bring up all the food we ate!
vee-ohh-emm-eye-teee
VOMIT

 that’s the crazy stalker ugmo ambusher. blurred for his anonymity and to protect his privacy. grossssss.

so i wrote back angrily and said that i’m glad we cleared things up, BUT MY BIRTHDAY WAS NOT THE APPROPRIATE TIME TO DO IT, you ruined my day.

ass.

and i don’t drink. ever. anyone who knows me, knows that i don’t touch alcohol. it’s just not my thing. but keith bought me a shot. so i downed it.

grant me patience. but please hurry.

i went to the press screening for Funkytown, a Canadian film in both english and french about montreal in the 1970s during the golden days of disco, and how different lifestyles of excess lead to the destruction of some, and the career-catapult for others. it stars Patrick Huard from Bon Cop Bad Cop fame. i think what i really liked about this film is it accurately portrayed the montreal that i grew up in (although i wasn’t alive in the 70s, the 80s did look and feel a lot like this). i really miss my life in quebec. just hearing the quebecois accent made me all giggly and googly-eyed.
and now i wanna watch Lance et Compte.

anyhoo, watch the Funkytown trailer here:

i’ve scored myself a ticket to The Daily Show with Jon Stewart. now i’m definitely headed to NYC at the end of March.

epic win

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