arvTales

So it was Bill's birthday today. He's the head-honcho, head-cheese, head... something... Can't think of anymore heads. I baked him a carrot cake. He seemed to like it. I don't know for sure because he didn't tell me. Everyone else said they liked it. A couple of people asked for the recipe. One girl asked me to marry her (and that was before she tasted the cake). Some were giving me cake orders. And yes, I remember. December 21st. Just tell me your favourite dessert. I won't make it, but the anticipation will give you joy, and that's all that matters.

I'm taking orders from all my readers. All four of you.

I'm reading my blog, looking for spelling and grammatical errors, when I noticed I tend to be long-winded in my writing.

So I think: "Why use one word when four will do?" - unknown to me
Then I think again: "Brevity is the soul of wit." - Shakespeare

So I'll keep this short.

And the editing, guess who's making me anal about that? That's RIGHT! It's FRANCES!

No, I'm not getting married just yet.

The ring is for my mother's 5oth. And that's right, I'm the one choosing the ring.

For the past 3 weeks, my brother and I have been hunting for the Perfect Ring. Four, if you count that weekend we spent looking for the wrong type of ring. Yes, that was a memorable few hours. We spent 4 hours talking to sales people at different jewellry shops around Town Centre, looking for the perfect sapphire ring. Not being able to decide if a light or darker stone was more palatable to the eye, I finally called my dad who promptly informed me that mother wants a solitary diamond with white gold.

Great.

We went back to the sales people, ladies, actually, and proceded to ask to see white gold solitaires. We finally found one at a nice little place at Town. One of the no-name shops. Friendly service from the sales staff and a nice manager to boot. Even with the discounts, I still feel I got hosed on the deal. But it's such a beatiful, simple ring.

On the whole it was a fantastic learning experience. I now know about cut, clarity, colour, carat; more than I had dared or cared to. I also learned that diamonds are not that good an investment. They don't tend to go up in value very much. Titanium, on the other hand...

I have resolved to buy myself a titanium ring for Christmas. And a nice Pierre Laurent watch, or possibly a Tag Hauer.

Right. Like I have money to burn. Still tough, the titanium band looked wicked fresh. Pardon my old school.

Any way, back from the tangent. We got a nice half carat diamond on white gold. It's getting cleaned, set, and resized. I'll post pics when I get my hands on it next weekend.

Sigh. Coulda bought a computer or two with that money... but it's mom. She is so worth the Perfect Ring.

So I got to thinking, what do I look for in a woman?

I've asked myself this question countless times before and I'm asking it again because Fran, Moe and G2 got me thinking. It's good to re-evaluate one's self every now-and-again.

She's got to be smart. Smarter than me. If she can't hold a decent conversation then there really is no point. On the same note, she has to be on the same wavelength as I. Being a quiet guy, I enjoy the silent and knowing looks. Almost like telepathy. I've always enjoyed the quiet night alone together over the party night with a crowd.

She has to have a wicked sense of humour that complements my own. Definite must.

She must be independent. She's got to be with me because she wants to be, not because "she can't live without me." Why? I am a huge proponent of choice. "Can't live without me" implies no choice at all. Plus, love songs lie, man. So basically, she can live without me but still chooses to be with me anyway.

Lastly, she's got to be attractive to me. What that means is... forget what other people think. If I think she's hot and she thinks she's hot (without being boastful) then that's all that matters. "Attractive" usually means she knows how to carry herself. There's nothing sexier than a woman who carries herself with confidence without being snobby.

Do you think I'm being picky?

I was bored and playing around with Bill's camera. Here's what my room looks like when it's not clean everyday.















Below is Jane. Wave to the people, Jane. Jane can be such a snob some times.

Overheard from a very funny driver of the 53E:

Chinese lady with slight accent: Is this express?
Driver: I'm the bus driver, yes.

Minutes later, another Chinese lady starts talking in Chinese on the crowded bus.
Driver: Do you want to get off?
More Chinese.
Driver: Don't talk non-sense. Just say yes.
Bus laughs.

Driver: Move back please, pretty please.

Driver: There's two buses right behind me. Please step off the bus. There's no more room. There's two buses behind me. Take care, buh bye.
The bus then storms off.

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He has got to be one of the funniest drivers on the 53.

The food was fantastic; the company was cool, clever and thoroughly enjoyable.

First there was the flaming goat cheese. Wow! It's just cheese on fire, but it tasted divine, especially with Mythos, a light Greek beer. Next was pita served with a variety of dips whose names I will not even try to pronounce let alone type for fear of incurring the wrath of Zeus himself. Then there was huge fava beans in a red sauce. Not my most favourite but its partner more than made up for it. With the beans came octopus with onions and some kind of pea. It was delicious! Easily my most favourite dish of the evening. There was also red pepper, olives, and some kind of salad that wasn't much my thing. The red pepper had a very unique taste to it and still quite delicious. Then there was fried calamari and grilled calamari. Both were eagerly devoured.

To top off the dinner were kebobs of the pork and chicken variety. Both were very tender and very delicious. The pork was majorly mouth watering.

Dessert was sponge cake dripping, nay, oozing with honey, drizzled with chocolate. It was a diabetic's worst nightmare.

There was so much food, I didn't know how we finished it all. I hope I mentioned it all, 'cause it was all heavenly.

People usually chat during and after dinner. The main conversation of the night was about, you guessed it, breastesests. Must there be boobs in every conversation at our company? I think yes. It should be in the Mission Statement. (Oh, and if you really did guess breasts, I've got a question for you: Why were you thinking that? Perv.) There were other topics like nieces and nephews and cutie pies, but those are all vague to me now. All I can think about is nursing in public. What a pretty sight.

Thanks Sophia and Georgina for inviting us to the Pantheon.

I'm bleeding as I type this and it won't seem to stop. But I will persevere.

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Karen and Robert's Wedding.
add pictures.

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There was a R.I.D.E. mobile unit patrolling the on ramp to DVP on Jarvis tonight. Caused one heck of a traffic jam. When I saw their logo, I almost peed myself. What if they had stopped me?

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Plenty of hookers along Gerrard and Jarvis, near the Ramada. I think that's the correct intersection. Can't really remember right now 'cause of the cops.

Look at the time. I do believe that it is time for bed. Hello, bed. Goodnight, people.

One should never handle jalapenos with their bare hands. I did not know this. After washing my hands thoroughly (at least I thought so), I proceeded to wash my face. Where my eyes are located. Finger made contact with eye. Pain, pain, horrible pain.

Those stuffed tomatoes better be worth my pain. Gorramit.

All this from one jalapeno pod.

I almost never run after a bus. It's not just because I don't like to run, it's mostly because I don't like to run after busses. Living near a busy intersection has its advantages, number one being that there will always be a bus every 5-10 minutes. Twenty, on the weekends, but who takes the bus on the weekend?

The reason I bring this topic up is because a 27-year old woman was hit by a taxi running against the red, after a bus. The same bus I take every morning. We've probably ridden together. Chances are very good that we've been on the same bus together. I might have even given her my seat once.

This happened a couple of days ago yet I still think about it. It's really bugging the hell out of me. A life lost because she was running after a bus. It seems like such a waste. Sigh.

Now I have another reason not to run after the bus.

It's very pretty and it hurts like hell.

Wow was the first thing that came to mind as we strolled through the grass, staring at the french chateau. Only it wasn't a french chateau, it just looked like one.

Moongate. Some would call it a cottage, but I think that's too modest a word for a place that resides in "millionaire's row."

It truly is magnificent. Breathtaking, even. I felt relaxed which, we were told, was one of the effects of entering through Moongate's doors. Pass the threshold and you will instantly feel all your worries disappear.

It reminded me of the my grandparents' country home. Nostalgia running through me, I felt at home at Moongate. Wow.

"The Perfect Woman" said that.

Ponder. Discuss.

Personally, brains is first thing I look for. Idioticism is so unpretty.