I’m Sure You’re Interested.
Here are some pointless and inconsequential things about my life that I assume you are interested in.
The weather is finally starting to get its shit together and stay warm, as denoted by Molly’s hang-y tongue. She is a huge wiener in the cold weather, so it’s nice to bring her out to sniff the multitude of pee marks and un-scooped dog poos throughout parkdale.
Speaking of that… I know I bad-mouth Parkdale a lot, but the truth is there is just as many ‘super-beautiful and amazing things’ as there are ‘hobos taking pisses in bus shelters’. The houses are old and gorgeous, and those people who put effort into maintaining them do a really, really good job.
Some of the gardens are amazing.
To celebrate the sun, I headed to the Rhino patio for the first of what I can only assume will be hundreds of summer beers/glasses of wine out there. DID YOU KNOW THEY LET DOGS ON THEIR PATIO??? I know. My brain exploded with happiness.
Sarah ordered a Cesar salad and I was so jealous. It smelled like garlicky heaven.
Then I went home and Molly pinned me down with cuteness… and slooooowly started falling asleep.
A quick point that I am a genius and have managed to convince my potted cacti to spontaneously reproduce.
CHECK THOSE BABIES OUT:
In other news, I have been eating that Moroccan chickpea salad like, non-stop for about 2 weeks.
I serious – I’m eating it by the cauldron-full.
I’m seriously not kidding – I could probably consume my own weight of this stuff RIGHT NOW. RIGHT THIS SECOND. It might be the perfect food. Fresh but comfy and earthy. Vegan, healthy… JESUS I WANT SOME RIGHT NOW.
This is probably not a good long-term plan, because I’m seriously considering buying this bikini from Robber and it’s pretty much a couple of napkins tied together with dental floss. I don’t think it will camouflage the blubbery consequences my chickpea salad obsession.
Speaking of food and other segues, I spoke at a conference recently because of my large, professional balls, and as a gift they gave me a $250 gift certificate to Oliver and Bonacini. What???? WHAT?? $250? I know. That’s enough money to order the sport-killing of an endangered snow leopard for dinner.
I instead chose champagne and oysters. LARGEST BALLS ON EARTH.
Finally – the last thing that I assume you want to know about my life - I waited until 11:00 pm on the final day to submit my taxes. I felt like SUCH a horrible, irresponsible person. But then I saw this: