last night = random...
worked 'til 12:00... got ready in less time than it takes to give your teeth a thorough brush... white/yellow racer back tank, black pinstripe tuxedo vest, gold chain, guido & mary denim, white kitten heels, black hairband -- good to go...
downtown by 1:00 with a gas pit stop and time to pick up a member of my posse... $3 parking on queen west... enter the drake only to find that the skybar lounge is packed to the tits and a waiting list is the closest we'll be getting to satisfaction anytime soon... suddenly, a familiar face... he drags us out of the depths of music way too horrible and too loud, to the sanctuary of a concrete corner outside where everyone is ignoring the trendy bar and it's swanky guests...
"happy birthday" to one, "haven't seen you in awhile" to others...
is this what we're doing all night?!?! my feet are tired and i'm craving a smoke... one bummed ciggy later and we're heading down the street to the gladstone hotel (even though it's 5 past last call)... kareoke, here we come...
in a word: hilarious!!! group circle sway, screaming at the top of our lungs, slow dancing with the b-day boy to "hello" by lionel richie... if only we'd skipped the rest of the night and spent it there...
all's well that seemingly ends well, until a lone television sitting on a stoop begs for destruction... i turn my head and smoke my second bummed ciggy to pretend i'm not with the crowd -- though i'm secretly sneaking a peek at the action... i've always wanted to smash a tv or a computer monitor... watch it break into a million pieces from a rooftop or hear it as it smashes into a useless mess... well, all it took was two hefty throws by choice troublemakers and the deed was done... no one, other than our crowd and a few other rowdy crew were happy to see it go down... "there's some dangerous stuff inside a tubular television, man, you should be careful" from one drunken asshole as the culprit (and a friend of mine) held the hollowed out screen up to his face in jest...
i bowed out for pool hopping, mostly because i didn't have a place to park my car... and my kitten heels were only made for walking...
moral: toronto is a special place... or something like that...
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the saying may go that "actions speak louder than words," but in my opinion words actually shout decibels above any move one could make... so expressive, interpretive and intense... all you need to find is a method to your madness to avoid rambling nonsense...
