Category Archives: go girl

25

Feb. ’11

Marilyn The Mother Whisperer

The fridge remembers everything

Last week I slipped on my friend, Lorraine’s, icy driveway trying to pull a will-not out of her dog’s butt.  This is not the story I will talk about but I will tell you that my hip is bruised and my shoulder is not moving quite right.  There are also weird decrepit  noises when I move my legs.  My teenage daughter can hear it even with her headphones on, “Stop it!”  Okay, child, I will just lay still then.  I’ve noticed with age, my whole skeletal system is starting to feel like flimsy toy put together by a crazed, impatient  prepubescent girl.  I am Barbie’s Dream Osteopathic Bodyworks Exhibit.  I only use this as a metaphor because this past week has been all about the memories of when my kids were little.  Because of my ice injury, my usual A.M. fitness routine has been thwarted and instead, I’ve been watching morning television.  I could get used to it.  Regis is on his last hurrah and the ladies at The View are always entertaining.   But the best part is that Marilyn Denis is back with her own show on CTV after leaving Cityline a few years ago. 

17 years ago, when my daughter was born, there was no specialty cable, the internet was unknown territory for civilians so no Facebook, Twitter, or funny gin-soaked mommybloggers to help us through the day.  On tv, Regis had Kathie Lee as a cohost (need I say more?) but luckily we had Marilyn Denis in the morning and then repeated in the afternoon.  She was a mom learning to parent just like us and her expert guests were our guides to modern living.  I watched her every day, I really felt like she was friend or a sister.  I wasn’t a crazy shut-in, I also had real life.  I joined a new mothers’ group at the Beaches Rec Centre.  We were a motley group of 12 sleep deprived women dealing with fresh scars, brown stains,  and other grossities.  We met once a week for a couple of  hours.  It’s all a blur now but back then but I remember most being fixated on this one baby whose head was encrusted with yellow cradle cap.  I was itching to reach over and dig in to pick it off.  What was wrong with his mother that she left it alone?  She obviously had no mama gorilla instincts and after weeks of letting it grow to the point that  was medical-book grotesque, I asked her:  “Why aren’t you picking that crap off his head?!”  I think I shamed her.   

Looking back, the whole group probably thought I was a bitch, I was pious and righteous with my cloth diaper service and my personalized Furber method (10 minutes of letting a baby cry can easily be stretched out to a half an hour when your baby sounds like a kitten).  At home alone though, I was losing my mind.  My baby girl, Evangeline, was the spawn of Satan.  She made my nipples bleed with her razor-sharp gums.  She screamed with her raw cat voice as soon as she woke up.  She did abdominal crunches on her change table, and her legs were so frantic, it was almost impossible to put a diaper on her.  She was a good sleeper but when she was awake, I couldn’t wait to put her in her playpen, aka, “Shawshank” or her swing, dubbed the “neglect-o-matic.” 

Anyway, it turned out the one thing the mothers in our group had in common was our love for Marilyn Denis and one day we all got tickets to attend a taping of her show.  It was a family episode and afterwards, her super-cute cameraman, Emilio, asked us if he could do a taped segment with us moms and our one minute parenting tips.  A few weeks later, Emilio, came to my house to film me and another mother from the group, Lorraine, demonstrate our skills.  Lorraine lived down the street and was also a stay-home mom and by then most of the other women in the group were back at work because their 6 months maternity leaves were up.   Lorraine’s tip was put a Mr. Freezee on a boo-boo instead of ice and the wounded child could eat it after he/she finished wailing.  For the life of me, I can’t remember my parent trick.  I used to make purses out of duct tape, maybe it was a diaper bag???  Whatever, Emilio, filmed us and was gone before noon.  It was the first time Lorraine and I were alone without the other hags and we just looked at each other and I said, “Beer?” and she said:  “Fuck, yeah!” and we cracked a couple open and 17 years later, we have been best friends ever since.  And we can thank Marilyn Denis for that.  

Lorraine and  both had our second babies 3 years later.  I had a boy, Freddy, who had cradle cap for 3 years that I would lovingly and gleefully pick off while he sat on my lap as we watched Cityline.  I’m so happy Marilyn is back and with modern technology, I can access her any time I want with Rogers On Demand.  I’m a single mama now and I also wonder, whatever happened to the cameraman, Emilio?  Call me, I’m on Facebook and Twitter!

Posted by . Categories: go girl. Tags: , , , . 3 Comments

11

Feb. ’11

A Prelude to Valentine’s Day

A message to Barbie:  Just be done with it. 

I was blissfully unaware that Valentine’s Day was coming up until this morning when I went on my Facebook that I have kind of neglecting recently because Twitter is where it’s at these days.  People on Twitter are self absorbed, narcissistic whiners and braggarts with very little to say because they only have 140 characters in which to tweet.  I love them so.  Don’t get me wrong, I still *like* my Facebook, and all my “friends”  but sometimes people’s status updates are truly horrific.  Today, for example, one of my friends had this to say:

“Find a guy who calls you beautiful instead of hot, who calls you back when you hang up on him, who will lie under the stars and listen to your heartbeat, or will stay awake just to watch you sleep… who wants to show you off to the world when you are in sweats, who holds your hand in front of his friends. One who is constantly reminding you of how much he cares and how lucky he is to have YOU…“

Seriously, a man posted this.  Furthermore he got 6 thumbs up for it and one woman commented:  `Where do I find this man?  I`ve been looking all my life…LOL!` So I counter-commented something like: `He`s the new talking Ken doll from Mattel, he retails for $39.95.`  She ignored me and wrote another comment:  “ Oh, (Facebook User), I wish I had a man like you, your wife is so lucky!  LOL!”  Yes “LOL” is right!  Is it just me or can you see the subtext in this guy’s status?  I think Dr.Phil would have a field day on the hot seat with this dude.  Let’s analyze it sentence by sentence:

“He calls you beautiful instead of hot”:  This means he is probably having sex somewhere else.   A sunset, a BLT, a covered bridge in Madison County are beautiful, too, and he is not boning either of these things.

“…who calls you back when you hang up on him, ”  : Why did you hang up on him in the first place?  Go with your instincts.  Oprah will tell you that.

“…who will lie under the stars and listen to your heartbeat.”  Creepy.

“…who will stay awake just to watch you sleep”:  Yeah, so he can sneak downstairs and make a phone call.

“…wants to show you off to the world when you are in sweats”:  Red flag!  Red flag!  This is the most dangerous of them all!  You realize, you, in sweats, are not hot.  He doesn’t think so either and nor does he want anyone else to.  Control freak.

“…holds hands in front of his friends.”:  That one is sort of cute but caution to all PDA, it is often just for show or like marking territory.

“…Constantly reminding you how much he care for you and how lucky he is to have YOU.”   Constantly?  Who is he really trying to remind? 

I’m not tying to be a big Valentine’s Scrooge but let’s just say I have your back.  If he seems to good to be true, you probably made him up in your head.  I’m not too worried my “friend” is going to read my post, he’s probably too busy rubbing petroleum jelly on his wife’s feet so she slips in the shower later on.  Here is the new talking Ken Doll, by the way:

Posted by . Categories: go girl, This Charming Man. Tags: , , , , , . 3 Comments

27

Jan. ’11

Botox This

No, I’m not angry, I was born this way

Last year I had my first Botox injection:  30 units pumped straight into the trenches of my forehead.  I grappled with the decision for years before actually getting it.  I have wacky vision and I furrow my brows alot and on top of it all, I have a macabre scar that runs between my two eyebrows from jumping on my bed and faceplanting on the headboard.  I was four, my oldest sister dumped me in the bathtub and let me bleed furiously while she watched “Love of Life” until my mother came home.  I am grateful she didn’t try and stitch me up because things could have been worse.  So with the horizontal scar and the vertical furrow lines, my forehead was a multi-purpose gameboard, you could play tic tac toe, hangman, or harvest some crops if you couldn’t log into Farmville.  When I was a teenager I used to tape my forehead at night so things wouldn’t get worse.  But the creases deepened and by the time I was in my twenties, people thought I was angry all the time.  Random men would say: “Why are you so mad?  Smile!”  STFU, I would grit my teeth.  Bangs were the answer.  Then Botox came on the scene and I knew I wanted it.  But it seemed really scary and anytime I would chirp about it, someone would inevitably say:  “Don’t you know that it’s poison, POISON!!!  It’s made out of botulinum toxin, you will die a slow death!!  And look like a duck while you’re doing it!”  First of all, I am going to die a slow death without Botox and look angry while doing it, and secondly, and most importantly, Botox does not make you look like a duck, the fillers do.  Botox just relaxes the muscles, okay, paralyzes the muscles and then they gradually over time go into atrophy, the same as your ass does when you watch too many soap operas.  My only fear was that the injection would affect my ajna chokra, you know the third eye that is the centre of your intuition.  What if I lost all instincts and started dating men who advertised on Craigslist?   Nurse D assured not only would my chokra be intact, it would be running on overdrive, all that furrowing was actually blocking it.  Nurse D also said she could fix my one eyebrow that arches too much, but I said no, it is what makes me look clever.  So the needle went in and I never looked back.  A year later, the verticle lines have softened, I don’t squint anymore when I read {less headaches!)…seriously this shit should be on OHIP.  So last week, wagjag had an offer for 20 units of Botox for $79 from Skin Vitality at 11 Yorkville.   I jumped on it, a little nervous about discount Botox but it turned out great, my brow muscle is losing its furious furrow but you can still tell when I am truly pissed at something, which is good because I don’t want to be perceived as a pushover.  Just don’t try and upsell me on the fillers…yet.

Posted by . Categories: Get out of your comfort zone, go girl. Tags: , , , , , . 1 Comment

09

Jan. ’11

Stay Fierce!

My little sea monkey

It’s one week into the New Year and do you know what your colon looks like right now?  I wasn’t so sure until I met this lady in the locker room at the gym who told me that I may have “little living organisms inside.”  According to her, these little beings make you crave sugar.  She explained her theory to me as she undressed and at one point she grabbed her massive gelatinous belly (she won’t read this) and twisted it around and said in despair: ” And they won’t die!  I’ve stopped feeding them wheat and dairy and they still keep growing!”  I didn’t know whether to laugh or be horrified and worry about my own innards.  I pictured the organisms to be like those Sea Monkeys in the back of the comics.  Only my Sea Monkeys weren’t like the ones sitting around playing cards, mine were drunk and angry, they probably looked something like this:

I’m not so sure I want to kill them as they are so cute but maybe I can work them, not feed them so much booze, clear out the white carbs, give them some green tea and antioxidants.  Austerity is not so hard when you are focused on a goal.  As a diversion from all this colon housekeeping, I made an appointment to get my teeth bleached at Glow Tanning Bar & Body Lounge at 9 Isabella.  They use a system called wavelight, check it out here, which is cheaper than the dentist and only took 40 minutes.  Basically you lay under a blue lamp with a mouthguard full of bleaching gel.  Here I am in full meditation mode:

The results vary depending on your enamel, mine came out Benajamin Moore “Cloud White” which is good enough.  Best of all I got this session though dealfind.com for 40 bucks.  In case you are not in the know, dealfind.com sends you a deal of the day and it goes up for grabs for a certain time period.  Check out Living Social, and wagjag for similar deals.  Stay tuned next week for discount Botox!  In the meantime, keep up with your resolutions, stay fierce!!!  And speaking of “fierce”, please check out my righteous teenage daughter’s band Nikki Fierce on myspace…their new song is called “City Water”, click here for the link

Posted by . Categories: go girl, Handy Hints. Tags: , , , , , , . Leave a comment

05

Jan. ’11

I Resolve To Compromise My Resolutions

Another New Years Resolution goes tits up

Last year my New Years Resolution was to eat more pastries, no joke, I wanted to be more European and support the French Patisserie, Zane’s, down the street.  But I failed.  I think I ate two croissants in January and a kiwi tart in September.  2011 is the Year of the Rabbit according to the Chinese calendar, although it officially starts in February, so why not become a gym bunny like every other rat on the planet?  Except I am always a gym bunny, or maybe more of a gym manatee since you can pretty much always find me in the hot tub.  On Monday when I went to the gym (Mayfair Lakeshore Racquet Club), it was so packed, all I could find was a mat to lay and watch all the newbies and bush-leaguers flailing on the equipment.  I’m just teasing with my disdain, the more the merrier.  I like fresh meat at the gym, you just never know what might come through the turnstile, hold the door!  It could be Mr. Right!  Now I’m just being a sarcastic old broad.  In fact I’m getting so old, I’m too tired to beat myself up, so yesterday I high-tailed out of the gym and went up to Evergreen Brickworks at 550 Bayview.  It’s a fantastic place, in fact I wrote about it on the Core Realty Blog which you should check out here.

Every year, without fail, I am duped into thinking:  Summer=Good, Winter=Bad.  It’s so stupid, I’m allergic to every flora and fauna out there.  Hot weather is a beauty hazard,  the heat makes my capillaries scream RED ALERT!  Then they pop.  I am too cheap and environmentally righteous to put on air conditioning and I sweat.  Then bloat in retaliation.  But in winter, everything changes.  The cold makes me tingle, the snow makes me feel warm.  Early dark days makes me want to hibernate which suits me fine.  In January, I can embrace austerity with vim and vigor.  My ancestors prowled and mated on icy fjords and survived on animal blubber, it is in my blood.  I am a winter Goddess, the outdoors is my gym.  And check out the hot dude I met on the trails of the Evergreen Brick Works:

Cody, the Shiba Inu at Evergreen Brick Works

Posted by . Categories: Get out of your comfort zone, go girl, Hanging Around. Tags: , , , , . 1 Comment

02

Dec. ’10

My Organic Secret Meat Swanepoel

Spanx fishnets:  Victoria’s Cougar Mom’s Secret

I feel like I have a lot to say because I haven’t posted in a week but most of my adventures have been internal and not Toronto East Hood-specific.  Since last week, when the household was declared “organic meat only’ by Righteous Teenage Daughter, aka. Evangeline, I have been complying.  On Saturday, I found The Friendly Butcher on the Danforth to be easy and convenient, the butcher was pleasant enough but not so sure about what “friendly” means, I will definitely go back this week and check what’s up now that I have my mojo back.  Yes, last weekend I had a mojo upset…didn’t know who I was, I wore sweatpants with those grey socks, let my hair go all porcupiney, and I think I was speaking tongues.  And this is the week that filming for my realty show, The Agents, resumes.  On Monday I got my wardrobe instruction :  “It doesn’t matter what you wear on the bottom because we are only doing head shot.  And because you are shooting with a troll shorter agent, we need you to wear flats so you don’t tower over her.”  And there was more:  “Wear something neutral and not a sweater because the troll other agent is wearing one, wear a button down.”  Seriously, does Joan on Madmen wear a button down?  I have to wear flat shoes and a collared shirt?  Am I the dude in this bitch fight?  I got my balls back and channelled Joan Crawford and countered with “I DO NOT WEAR BUTTON DOWNS!”

So we are settling on a v-neck cardigan, the other whore agent is wearng a turtleneck so for sure I will fare better.  As for “it doesn’t matter what you wear on the bottom”…well, if I have learned one thing in my ladyhood, yes it does.  Apparently, foundation garments are the key to success.  Do you know that with the plethora of internet porn that is available today, the men are still using your Victoria Secret catologs to supplement it?  And there are no nipples in Victoriaville, so what up with the man you married 20 years ago who can’t remember your birthday but knows how to spell ” Candice Swanepoel?”  It is all about the power of imagination.  This is why I will be wearing fishnet Spanx on my shoot tomorrow.  Nobody will see it, but I will know and you will know because I just told you.

Posted by . Categories: go girl. Tags: , , , , . 1 Comment

23

Nov. ’10

Righteous Teenage Daughter Rules

Nikki Fierce:  Left to Right:  Evangeline, Emily, and Claire

The other day, Righteous Teenage Daughter, aka. RTD, aka.Evangeline made the announcement that she is only eating “organic meat” and if Freddy and I were going to eat something else, not to worry, she will fend for herself.  Meaning she is not going to go out with a slingshot and hunt down a squirrel, she will open up a box of mac and cheese and dine el solo while we eat from the conveyor belt animals.  To prove her point, she made us watch an excerpt from the documentary film, Baraka, the chicken sequence which is not grotesque in gore but a little disturbing in concept, and I urge to click on the except and watch it.  It does inspire you to want to eat a happy farm chicken but it also makes you question conformity in general.  Which is what I think is so great about RTD (I know every parent says this about their child) but she doesn’t listen to Justin Bieber and she introduces me to really new cool bands so I don’t end up stuck listening to my old morose 80s British bands mixed with 90s Lollapalooza relics.  So RTD amd a couple of her like minded friends formed a band and called themselves Nikki Fierce and here is their first original song called “Muted.”  Very trippy sounding!

So anyway, I can’t let my future rockstar meal ticket eat boxed mac and cheese so I have earnestly joined her crusade for “organic” meat.  Which means happy meat.  How do you know they are happy?  Because they cost twice as much per kilo.  I trekked over to the west side and bought a chicken at The Healthy Butcher.  I have to say, I loved the place, and as much as I enjoy a shopping cart stroll through a Loblaws, I am probably more a small shop shopper.  I also have a bit of a butcher fetish, as a child I used to run over to the section of Dominion where they had what I considered to be an art installation of a cow and its sectioned off parts in different colours:

And the Dominion butcher wore a white apron and carried a big knife.  Even as a four-year old, I thought he was God, he knew what he was doing.  They still wear the same thing and carry the same tool and yet there are deluded urban men running around town in Prada zoot suits thinking they are the meat packers but you know they’ve got nothing on the Butcher Man.  Anyway, I ended up buying a $17 “organic” chicken.  And this chicken had a different look from the regular grocery store, air child bird.  He wasn’t tightly sealed in plastic on a styrofoam tray, he came all splayed out, as though he had just finished playing a game of soccer and was laying on the couch watching tv.  He was a muscular beast, with thighs like Ronaldo, he probably pranced in the meadow like some cocky show pony. Obviously he got all the chicks.  And he tasted happy, for sure.  Here is my recipe for Chicken Ronaldo:

Take the chicken:  Stick a pierced lemon in the cavity. cut 4 Yukon gold potatoes and place in Creuset style pan with drizzle of olive oil and place the bird on top (potatoes will go mushy and crispy on the edges), sprinkle up some kosher salt, pepper, and garlic slices, drizzle with more olive oil, BAKE at 350 in covered pan for 90 minutes, then take cover off for another 30 minutes so bird get golden, stir potatoes around so they get some action.  And when done, let chicken recuperate for  10 minutes or so on a separate plate and then stir potatoes around the roasting pan…they should be kind of mushy at this point, as Ronaldo has been crushing them and soaking them with his juices in the oven.  Then serve it up.  I’ve had guests eat his then actually want to help me to the dishes to they can feed off the pan remnants and pick the the bones.  Free range, that’s what I say.

Posted by . Categories: Do This Not That, Eat & Drink, go girl. Tags: , , , . 3 Comments

19

Nov. ’10

A Change Has Come

My new brokerage:  Core Realty at 747 Queen Street East

Don’t skip this post thinking that’s it’s going to be all about me and my new exciting brokerage that I just joined today.  I promise the next paragraph gets more juicy because it is sweeps month and I’m still trying to get my readership up.  But first this little news nugget:  for a few months, one of the brokers from the show, The Agents, has been trying to get me to give up that hideous ochre blazer with C21 logo on left pocket and join her hip, new boutique brokerage in the heart of Riverside or Leslieville or whatever you want to call it.  But I had just changed earlier that year to join a partnership which turned out to be a disaster and I was left standing alone under a yellow umbrella that matched the blazer.  And the office was in deep, dark, Scarborough, even farther than that area where they sell discount mattresses and electronics.  So finally on Monday afternoon, when I was I at such a dark, low point, I was craving a now extinct KFC Double Down but settling for a Wendy’s Bacon Mushroom Melt, I ran into the two Core Realty brokers in the parking lot.  “Come join us!”  they yelled for the last time.  I figured it was a sign for change, and it’s kind of nice to be wanted.  Anyway, I love everything about the Core Brokerage, it seems like all the best words start with “C”, don’t they?  The office is really styling, the people are so nice, the logo is cool and everyone has the same business cards, there are no embarrassing headshots.  The office participates in a lot of community events AND best of all:  they are going to have me write a blog for their website, which I will keep you updated on.  “Centered Around You” is their motto.

And speaking of centered, did you happen to see Dr. Oz last week?  You know how he loves to keep you hanging during commercial breaks by warning you what you see next will shock your mind and then it’s something lame like sneezing can lead to nosebleeds?  Well this episode was all about the G-spot which totally had my attention.  He showed this device called a We-Vibe, that looked like a rubber clamp and that claimed to stimulate the spot amongst other things.  You can buy these kinds of things on-line, but I like to look, touch, and smell which why I don’t go on dating websites, I have learned the hard way that an aura of crazy is something you can only detect in person.  So off I went on a field trip to Come As You Are:

Come As You Are, 701 Queen Street West

And I’m glad I did because as it turns out, the We-Vibe is a couples toy and I’m looking for solo action.  The sales girl was really helpful because there is a plethora of things that rattle and hum in that place.  I ended up getting a Rock-Chick, which is a thicker version of that We-Vibe.  Their website is under construction so I’m not really sure how to use it, the diagragm on the package makes me sick and I can’t tell what’s up or down.  It’s soft and flexible and kind of fun to play with so I’ll just have to poke and prod until I hit the G-note and my life changes.  But until then, I will embrace my new career change and centre around you!  P.S. I never actually wore a yellow blazer…please.

Posted by . Categories: go girl, LOCAs gone wild. Tags: , , , , . 1 Comment

13

Nov. ’10

The Good Fight

Age, it can happen to the best of us

Last winter, I was chosen to be on a reality show about real estate agents.  We did a lot of shooting from January until March and then I heard nothing.  It was a lot of fun and would have been good advertising for my real estate services, I need all the fame or infamy I can get in that area since the town is overrun by giant powerhouses on buses and billboards (and special message to a certain spray-tanned real estate agent with a snaggle tooth: use Photoshoppe, the sisters do it and so should you).  The other day, I got a call from the producer of The Agents and they have formatted all the footage into half hour show for the W Network.  She wanted me to come down and see the pilot and then for my particular segment, we will do some reshoots to fit the formula.  I have to say, it’s a pretty good show, it’s based on rivalry and catty behind the scenes comments.  I loved it.  But what I didn’t love was the footage of myself.  Never mind that it was shot two weeks after Christmas and the only thing I had to drink besides Champagne was melted Brie. I can take bloated, the ability to bloat is on my resume.  I looked really old!  You know how when you look in a mirror, you have your repetoire of poses that you take so you don’t have to see the stuff you hate?  Well you can’t do when you see yourself on tv.  It is what it is:  U*G*L*Y.  “I thought you looked cute,” the producer said.  Cute!  I’m in my cougar years, I want to look fierce.  I still have some mojo and I’m not trying to compete with twenty year olds.  I have learned for every flaw, big or small, that a woman might have, there is a freak with a fetish ready to worship her.  But the problem is that while he is admiring her exquisite beauty, he is creating a mountain Kleenex wads underneath his webcam somewhere in Germany.  So if you want to get a real life date with a North American male, LOCA’s, you better get with the program.  So here I go:

me with a rubber collagen mask on at Salon Spa College

My friend Connie is learning to be an esthetician at Salon Spa College, which is at Don Mills and York Mills.  She`s had me in for a couple of procedures, this one was the basic facial with galvanic energy.  She sealed in the serum with a wand full of positive current while I held another wand of negative current.  It must work because electricity is involved.  The pore holes shrink so skin looks firmer.  Sometimes my pores like to gape open too much, that`s probably when everything looks all saggy.  Must remember this for when they do reshoots in a couple of weeks.  Anyway, at the Salon Spa College, they do all kinds of treatments from laser hair removal, facials, manicures, pedicures and with state of the art equipment, and they take appointments for the public,  The prices are really good, check out their website here.  I`m excited for something that I saw on Dr. Oz the other day about a new treatment called Ultherapy, where they use ultrasound to repair the collagen deep in the skin so that the turkey waddle is diminished.  It`s probably something that a doctor operated which means more money but it will be worth it.  It might be a drag getting old, but you`ll never get bored fighting it.

Posted by . Categories: go girl, LOCAs gone wild. Tags: , , , . 1 Comment

06

Nov. ’10

Sweet Dreams: Cupcakes For Haiti and Diwali

Diwali (Festival of Lights) is on this weekend:  Waddle, don’t walk over to Gerrard Street and graze on this spectacle.

I’ve got a big weekend planned.  When it rains, it pours especially since I discovered the event box on my Facebook page a couple of weeks ago.  Also this is the weekend we turn back the clocks.  Good news for teenagers, and shift workers.  Bad news for insomniacs.  I wonder how an extra hour of tossing, ruminating, obsessing over paranoid delusions will affect my daytime psyche?  Why can’t I just ease myself to sleep with simple fantasies like the one I have where John Stamos is a plumber and I am a porn star:  He fixes my faucet, we do it on the couch, and then he leaves and I fall asleep for real.  But no, I have to spend my sleeping hours creating detailed scenarios involving my real-life crush who doesn’t know I’m alive which makes him even hotter.  At one point I iron his plaid flannel shirt, going over the pocket plackets, careful not to burn the buttons.  You’d think I would bore myself to sleep but no, I just keep going, folding his laundry, sorting his socks.

This weekend is Diwali, the Festival of Lights, and the biggest Hindu celebration of the year.  Little India on Gerrard goes all night.  The restaurants bake up a storm for the event.  I just picked up a box of sweet treats from Mahar at 1410 Gerrard Street East.  They have the craziest selection of blobs in all colours and configurations.  I picked up only four (because I was scared) but I have almost finished them off.  They are all kind of similar, honey soaked doughy things but some have nuts, coconut, and one has chocolate.  They are so good, I need to go back.

And more sweets this Saturday.  Friend and neighbour Susana Molinolo is having a book launch in Leslieville :

She started it as a bake sale and raised $12,000 for Haiti (see how the ladies know how to raise funds?  see previous post).  Now she has put together a cookbook featuring 30 different recipes from different chefs to help Doctors Without Borders and FINCA Canada.  Check it out on the Facebook page.  The book launch is Saturday, November 6 at Beaufort Decor, 1576 Queen Street East and you’ll be able to buy some already baked cupcakes at Voulez Vous Cafe down the street.

It’s going to be a super sweet weekend, but it’s okay, I’ll be burning it off at two hour boot camp Saturday morning.  Ugh.

Posted by . Categories: Eat & Drink, go girl. Tags: , . Leave a comment