okay, this is what the weekends of a free-wheelin', 20-something with decent income amount to these days. i wasn't completely honest about what we did on friday night. betwixt and between girl talk my young, vibrant, hip, and filled with joie de vivre posse also whiled away our time on friday evening by spending two hours on the internet looking up dog breeds. specifically, poodle-crosses. that's so pathologically lame that i can feel the weight of your collective censure even as i type the words. in our defense, poodle-crosses come with hilarious names like "labradoodle" (labrador-poodle), "goldendoodle" (golden retriever-poodle), and "whoodle" (wheaten terrier-poodle). we've been obsessed with fantasizing about getting a dog lately, and i'm sold on some kind of poodle cross. because a) poodles are wicked smart, and b) they don't have fur, they have hair, so they don't shed and people aren't allergic to them. SOLD!
so saturday night rolls around, the air is balmy, fecund with potential for all sorts of evening debaucheries. and where do we find chez lagerfeld as the clock ticks towards the witching hour, and people of all stripes and persuasions spill out into the street looking for love and trouble? no where else but safely ensconced in a booth at licks, fulfilling an ungodly yearning for poutine AND fries with sour cream, bacon bits, and chives. it also doesn't help that when we made our entrance, recognizing the song on the muted soft-rock piped in for the saturday night lick's crew,we sung along as the chorus swelled. what was the song? oh just a little ditty by chicago, "inspiration". aces!
dr. rei, the boy and i came up with an idea to start a top forty night. but it's going to be top forty that spans the ages, for people like us. who just want to go and dance to top forty in a fun atmosphere without attitude, lineups, dress codes, etc. we're going to all collectively go by the name dr frrrrrraannnche. i think it's awesome...if i only had the nads to start a new promotion venture.
we have DODGEBALL today! we're playing last season's #1 ranked team. they also have somebody on their team who's the same size (approx 2-3 feet) as verne troyer, the actor who played mini-me in the austin powers movies. he also has a disproportionately large head in relation to his body. which means that almost every shot at him ends up being called as a "head-shot" and therefore doesn't count. because his centre of gravity is so low, it's also easy for him to catch balls. it's definitely going to be a challenge. but this week we're coming primed with subs, tunes, and well, panache and charisma, which go farther than you think (in my head).
this morning for sunday breakkie i'm making bacon and egg sammies with cheddar on kaiser buns. with the reigning beet-apple-ginger-carrot-cucumber juice. for dinner, we have a $50 gift certificate to the firkin pub of our choosing, so we're going to go and have a post-game dinner of wings and beer and fries with the team. i'm hoping to go to the one at spadina and bloor so that we can go to greg's for ice cream for dessert.