Bellini-induced Brain Freeze

- a play on Muskrat Love. Whatever; I'm a dork. I decided recently to organize my purses. If you have known me for some time you ought to know I have a bazillion purses. I thought all women were like me. Apparently not, none of them have as many purses as me, for sure. Most of my friends only have maybe 5 or 10! It boggles my mind! Re-organizing my purses is a massive endeavor consisting of clearing them all out of my handbag closet, emptying them out, and rearranging them in some sort of system that makes sense (at the time). Unfortunately, my handbag closet cannot hold all of my handbags so now my collection is split amongst my two closets. This would be why I forget I own such-and-such a bag for years on end until I unearth it once again during one of my "reorgs." Emptying them out always takes the longest. I pore over every receipt as they spell out their own special page in my life of where I went, when, and what I bought. I peruse over little notes and rem

Eeee, I hope my Spanish is still coherent. This past weekend was the very first Calgary International Salsa Congress ; a labor of love for our favorite dance studio and its instructors. T-Girl and I would have been remiss to skip on the event. Friday night was the pre-congress party held in the ballroom at the Hyatt downtown. I have not gone dancing in months so seeing all the fantastic dancing had me quite intimidated at first. I knew I would be able to hold my own if only I could find a partner who could lead. Unfortunately, the one partner I ended up getting -- a friend of T-Girl's who must have felt bad for me standing solo -- could not keep the beat. I did my best to be gracious and follow his lead and ignore the music, but it just killed the moment for me. My fave partner who is also a TA at the studio was busy getting ready for his performance so no luck there. We'll call him Salsa Boy. When I get the chance to dance with him I feel like the most amazing salsera

Hot or not The Hotness is terminally ill. The Hotness being my favorite cell phone. I jumped on the chance to own The Hotness as soon as she was released in Canada. With all the research I did in my cell phone forums and such it was clear to me that I was destined to own a Sony Ericsson Z520a. We have had a wonderful life together and she has travelled with me to many lands. On my recent trip to the Philippines I bought a companion phone -- a Sony Ericsson Z610i which I christened Bebot -- to take some of the workload off of The Hotness. Don't get me wrong, Bebot is shiny, sleek, and sexy. I love whipping her out whenever I see lemming RAZR owners out on the street. But even with her hot exterior, her bells and whistles just cannot hold a candle to how The Hotness and I were a match made for the ages. Never wanting to be without her for a minute I kept putting off sending her away for a small software glitch, a minor inconvenience, until my extended warranty was (so I thought)

All Good Boys Deserve Fudge. Good Boys Deserve Fudge Always One thing definitely hasn't changed in my blogging style: I always want to start my posts with some kind of musical reference. Another social network has basically taken over my life on the internet. I'm sure there are quite a few of you out there who can easily guess what I am talking about. It is just too convenient for a little snoopy voyeur like myself. It is like the Cliff's Notes of someone's life rather than having to click and read every single blog post. In a minute you can find out where your old high school friend is working now, what their academic achievements have been, whether or not they are seeing someone at the moment or if they have gone in a domestic way and did the whole married-with-2.5-kids thing. They are not kidding when they say this network is like an addiction. I find myself looking up people from my past, people who I don't really care much about, just to see who's d