Bellini-induced Brain Freeze

GO FLAMES GO!!!

Easter treats Happy Easter, everyone! I'm proud to say I survived my whole Lent thing. Well, minus my birthday weekend. But I figured I still did more than 40 days so I'm all clear. And to celebrate, my family and I are going to have some gorgeous steaks and baked potatoes. Easter and the first BBQ of the year. It doesn't get any better than that. I commend my family's innovativeness (is that a word?) As much as I love turkey a steak would be a dream come true right about now. Go Flames Go! I can't wait for my Iggy jersey to arrive! It must be soon. Just in time for playoffs, mmmm. Weird Kid and I should go pick up some more beer to prepare. We finished off the Coronas during last week's Pokerfest. (I finished in 5th...but I had a great time and some fantastic hands.) Civic comes home today but Daisy is away for Easter break. Figures one comes home and the other one goes away. At least I only had to entertain myself for a couple of days, haha. Posi

'cuz I'm a woman...w-o-m-a-n I've already told you I love the spring, but the best part is the milder weather it brings with it. Not too hot, not too cold, juuuuust right. Perfect for wearing a greater variety of clothes. I get to wear more of my hats now without fear of overheating, wider array of jackets to choose from...and shoes, too, of course! And skirts. They're the icing on the cake. It's more difficult dealing with wearing a skirt in harsh winter temperatures or the gross slush during the thawout. But now I can wear skirts in full force. Like today. I love skirts, I wish I had more of them. They are one of the fashion pieces that truly distinguish us from the men (other than weird French teens such as the young man Daisy saw in London wearing a skirt...and kilts, I suppose). We can wear pants just like they can. We can wear anything they wear, only we usually wear it better. But skirts are just for us alone. And I love that. My previous coworker

Enter... The scene: a half-empty C-Train car. Girl in black trench and copper purse (that'd be me) sits in an empty booth and settles in for the commute to work. Young exec-type guy enters the booth and sits right across from me. Quick survey of mr exec: dark barely pinstriped suit, blue tie, blue dress shirt, well-groomed au courant hairstyle, leather laptop attache on the seat beside him. I don't know what it was about him, but he had my attention. Obviously he wasn't hideous, but he just seemed like your run-of-the-mill bean counter. And yet I was turned on. Truth be known I love suits. I love guys in suits. But then again I love guys in military uniforms, hockey uniforms, casual wear. I suppose there aren't many "types" of guys that I would pass on wholeheartedly. Punks are one definite that comes to mind. Aaaaanyway... So young exec guy is sitting across from me and I can't stop from stealing glances at him. His lips looked yummy, he smelle

Zone The past few years the house several doors down from mine has been rented out to a rotation of university guys. Majority of whom are ridiculously good-looking. A "hottie house," if you will. Then last summer I was taking a stroll to my friendly neighborhood Tim Horton's and I noticed another house down-the-way was inhabited by yet another group of ridiculously good-looking muchachos. So, you know, at this point I was beginning to wonder if I had not somehow been transported to some kind of hottie community. A hottie zone. Surely this would generate an increase in real estate value. Desperate housewives have no idea what they're missing. So far, knock on wood, my neighborhood is cougar-free. Sunday, more proof of the hottie zone: I was waiting for my bus (I'm taking another salsa class. Like you're all really surprised!) when this gorgeous, hot Euro kind of guy leans against the sound barrier waiting for the bus with me. Where did this guy come fr