Modern Prohibition

Prohibition:  That was then, this is now

I’m on Week 2 of boot camp.  Amy promised it would get easier but last night was a lady chain gang featuring hoops, hurdles, pylons, and the soundtrack to “An Officer and a Gentleman.”    3 sets of 5 obstacle course activities performed under a full moon.  My shoe lace is untied!  I have a very important text message from someone I need to respond to right now for a very important appointment I have!  Do you see that man over there?  I think he has a gun!  Diversions served only to prolong the event…longest hour of my life.  Then, home in the dark, and I missed the first episode of Glee!  My other, more important blog, My Tv Fez, will describe this anguish in full.

Anyway, boot camp doesn’t mean “no booze” but it definitely means cutting back.  The whole concept of booze deprivation seems virtuous, but I’ve learned that abstinence is a dangerous thing.  Don’t kid yourself, your liver wants to work, it’s like a horse in that way.  It doesn’t want to be clean, otherwise it will get bored, lazy even, so the next time you take cough syrup (in earnest) after a righteous”cleanse”, don’t be surprised if you wake up at the DIY car wash, with the hose slammed in your trunk.  Anyway, today I met one of my favourite friends, the one I can count on for never ordering a soda water or worse, a diet coke, when you go out for lunch.  It’s Pinot Grigio or go home.  What better place in the hood for us, than Prohibition Gasto House, at 696 Queen Street East, at Broadview.  This place has been around for a while and it is my default, go-to place for lunch or hanging out on the weekend.  For one, they have an in-house oyster shucker, say no more.  They have bands, crap on tv, and really good food.  And really, really good french fries or frites, the real French from France way.  I know the secret and am keeping it to myself.  Quack.  The staff is really great and the who doesn’t have a crush on Michael.  And when I was there, I got a phone message from none other than boot camp Amy:  “Where are you?  I’m parked right behind you!”  damn, my big red box…  I didn’t dare tell her where I was, some things are better kept secret.

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  1. Pingback: Digging For Fire « mytorontoeh

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