Courtney's 21st Birthday

After five hours of shopping (Kensington, Queen Street and Eaton Centre) Monique and I came home empty-handed, apart from groceries for dinner and a bouquet of flowers for Courtney's birthday.

But chances are, you aren't looking at the flowers in this picture.


Instead, you're wondering why there are pictures of naked ladies on our wall.

Let me introduce you to the "Say My Name, Bitch!" wall. This is what I get to stare at every morning with my coffee. It's part of the rotating artwork series featured on our kitchen wall. (Previous things on the kitchen wall has been a world map outlining all the developing countries literacy rates, and a "What do YOU remember from 1995?" poster.) This design was conceptualized by Sasha and Katrina.


Monique and I made 3-Cheese Roasted Vegetable Penne for dinner. Mike, it may not be stronganoff, but it was still delicious.


Sasha spent all day sewing a dress that Katrina wore out to the bar that night.


You know that phrase "dressed to the nines?" I think we were dressed to the 10s.


We waited in line at Mod Club for half an hour, made some friends (like this girl, who was waiting by herself) before deciding that we were bored of standing outside.


So, we went to Andy Pool Hall, where we could be bored inside instead! Actually, that's not entirely accurate. A good time was had by all, but I think we were disappointed that we had to spend $10 to get in, just because a DJ was playing shitty techno music.


If you take a closer look at the above pictures, it's evident that Mark found the music particularly distasteful.


Sonja and I.


At this point, I decided that I needed to make it appear that we were having a wild and crazy night at the bar, for the sake of maintaining the blog's reputation. Either that, or I was sick of the amount of "normal" faces I had been making all night (and we all know that just isn't my style).


Monique and Charles


Courtney, me, and Brie protectively resting her hand on the baby.


Court, me and Brie. . .


And Mark, holding Brie's purse.

After we left Andy Pool Hall, I spotted a bearded fellow outside. Approaching him, I said, "I really like your beard. I just thought I should let you know," and I began to walk away.

He stopped me. "Wait, what's your name? Do you want to go and get a drink somewhere?"

I was throughly thrown off my game. A guy had actually responded positively to my beard obsession. "I'm actually going to get food to eat with my friends," I told him, mildly creeped out.

"Is that it? Is this the end?" The guy's creepiness factor had risen a notch. I never knew that complimenting guys on their facial hair could be such a powerful tool of seduction. And the worst part is, I'm not sure I was trying to seduce.

"Uh, well what else do you want?"

"A phone number? An e-mail address?"

"I'll give you my e-mail address, but I don't have a pen or paper," I agreed, knowing that there was no way he would remember my hotmail address.

Apparently, I was wrong, because when I logged into msn this afternoon, the bearded guy had actually added me to his list. He also sent me a message that read, "You liked my beard. I liked your vibe."

Seriously, 90 per cent of guys don't even bother to call, which is why I refuse to give out my phone number. But this guy actually not only memorizes my e-mail address, but also adds me to his msn? When does this ever happen? Who does this sort of thing?

"You do that sort of thing," Chloe told me today on the phone, "I think he must be the one."

So there you have it folks, I've met the one!

Continuing. . .


Today, it was pouring rain outside, so Monique decided she'd like a blanket for the bus ride home. After rejecting a Toronto Maple Leafs, a Spiderman, and Spongebob Squarepants blanket, she decided to instead opt for a tasteful plain red choice to keep her warm.


And then, she unrolled it.