Maybe it’s that time of the year.

Or maybe it’s sheer coincidence, given the fact I had this dream last year, also in March.

But last night, I dreamed I was about five months pregnant. I wasn’t huge – just starting to show.

I’m not pregnant in real life. I don’t want to be pregnant any time soon.

Maybe it’s the number of women who I know have either given birth, or are expecting, so perhaps I have that thing on the brain.

Or possibly- as a co-worker, herself a mother of a two-year-old, suggested – it’s symbolic of me anticipating something.

Or, as the online dream dictionary suggests, it might be representative of a new idea, project, goal or direction I’m trying to take in my life.

But I’m not so sure if I want to have any more pregnant dreams again this year. I think I’ve filled my quota.

(I just hope it’s not me stressing over this toga birthday party I’m going to tomorrow night – sheesh.)

Quote of the Week

“Never talk when you can nod, and never nod when you can wink, and never write an e-mail because it’s death. You’re giving prosecutors all the evidence we need.”


Oh, Eliot Spitzer.

Who knew that the above soundbite you gave ABC News two years ago would come back to haunt you?

How the high-and-mighty – and in this case, ridiculously hubristic – have fallen. And during the craziest week in March, I might add.

I feel sorriest for his wife and three daughters and what they now must go through.

On the other hand, New York state now has its first African-American, legally blind governor.


Another example of why you should beware the Ides of March.

Let’s face it – anyone in a high position of power who’s stupid to do something like this is getting what they deserve.

But anyone who uses a service called “The Emperors’ Club”? Be prepared to be (figuratively) slaughtered like Caesar.

(Quote stolen from This Ain’t Hell … and pretty much every blog that has published this in the last 48 hours.)

The Return of GRTTWAK!

It’s that time of year … when the clocks roll an hour forward …

Everyone prays for spring …

And people read stuff they wrote as kids.

Yes, boys and girls, Grownups Read Things They Wrote As Kids (GRTTWAK) is back this coming Monday at 8 p.m. And they’re moving up in the world with a brand-new (and spacious!) venue – the Gladstone Hotel Ballroom on Queen Street West.

Put on by my friend Dan Meisener, this open-mic reading series is hilarious as it is nostalgic. People read their schoolwork, diary entries, creative writing assignments – whatever, anything goes. You don’t have to read if you show up – you can just listen, if you like. It’s enjoyable for all.

And it’s free. FREE! Good Lord! What more can you ASK for?

I’m definitely going, although I won’t be reading – frankly, I don’t think I have anything that can top my previous reading of “Mrs. Reagan and Mrs. Gorbechev”.

So if you’re going to be in Toronto in a couple days, or have nothing to do, OR are tired of the same old schtick you do Monday nights after work, come on down. You won’t be sorry, I promise.

Check at my friend’s blog right here for more deets and “rules” if you’d like to read.

Where There’s Snow …

… There’s the Kensington Urban Snowpark.

While most of us spent February:

(a) cursing the gods, stumbling and grumbling through the cold, snow, windchill, sleet and God-knows-what-else in nine layers of clothing to and from work, etc.,

(b) shovelling our driveways and sidewalks, while inwardly cursing the aforementioned gods, or 

(c) fed up with the horrid weather, electing to flee the True North for sandy beaches down south

a friend of mine and his three roommates

(d) built their own snow ramp. From the roof of their house, onto their back deck. While relatively sober. 

I’d heard my friend talk about building this when winter hit, months ago … but I didn’t take him seriously

So imagine my surprise when, while last night on The Facebook, two of my friends mentioned they heard he’d constructed the mythical ramp of which he previously spoke.

“What?” I thought to myself. So I paid a visit over to his profile and discovered this video, which nearly made me fall off my chair.

The video was even posted on Torontoist yesterday.

Apparently the ramp’s melted, but if they get enough snow from what’s fallen between last night and today, they might repair it. 

Yes, it’s official: some of my friends ARE crazy.

(Even though I question their sanity, I do not question their use of the song “Final Countdown” as the soundtrack to this nutty video. Nice touch, guys.)

Stuff Loquacious D Likes

No matter what their colour or culture, people like to poke fun at themselves. The real challenge is whether people will get it.

Over the last week, I’ve stumbled these sites – most are funny; one is even informative. I’d say all are fairly well-written If you’re really bored, consider:

Stuff White People Like. No, I’m not kidding – that’s what the site’s called. And the attention it’s gotten since it started a couple months ago is so much, it’s practically viral. (And I’m only two and a half weeks late on the “fad” train!)

It’s written by two white dudes (seriously, do you think anyone else would be nuts enough to do this?), one of whom sounds like he might be from Toronto, and they basically spoof on things that, yes, probably everyone goes through, or has interests in … but they seem like something a liberal, middle-class white person might do (even though there are people who are exceptions to the rule).

I know the non-white people who’ve found it, have found it hilarious. And a lot of the blog’s white readers who’ve stumbled upon the site like it, too. But I think I like reading the comments more than the actual posts – it shows you what people are – or aren’t – thinking. There’s definitely a dialogue going on. You can tell the earnest commenters from the ones who are just jerks trying to stir shit up.

Perhaps – as some commenters say – this blog will be played out in about six months. But for the moment, it’s going strong.

Stuff Black People Love. Several people leaving comments on Stuff White People Like said, “Hey, what would happen if someone came up with the equivalent of Stuff White People Like, but for black people?”

Well, someone posted this blog site’s address, but as it turns out, it’s not what you’d expect. It’s in its infancy, but the person running this site decided to take the high road and not make it a response to the SWPL site. Instead, they’re focusing on black popular culture, particularly in the U. S. and, they say, they’ll showcase artists, websites, blogs, etc. Okay, maybe this isn’t under the “funny” column, but I thought this site could definitely prove really informative as the blog develops.  

Stuff Educated Black People Like. I suspect this is the site that’s either supposed to be the answer – or the copycat site – to SWPL. I get the references so I think it’s funny.

Angry Chinese Driver. I found this guy through one of his comments on a SWPL post. Sorry for you non-Torontonians or non-Canadians, but this is definitely a Toronto-centric Web site, started by a young dude who’s a first-year student at York University. There’s the stereotype out there that Chinese drivers are bad drivers. Angry Chinese Driver says he’s the complete opposite, an exception to the rule. Most of his blog is driving-related (although, he says, exception will be made for his rants fighting the good fight against the inappropriate use of grammar).

In short, despite the titles of these blogs, they deal with things everyone has experienced. If you can see that, this makes some of the posts on these ring so true, you can’t help but laugh – or take note. Enjoy.

Dancer’s Corner: Hey, Big Tumbler

Hello boys and girls,

Welcome to the first ever Dancer’s Corner – the first in an occasional column, where I address individuals who can sometimes make recreational dancing at bars and clubs a hazard to one’s personal safety.

First off:

To the tall young man whom I saw “dancing” at Clinton’s last night …

As someone who considers herself an intermediate-level Dancing Bar Patron (DBP) -who frequents establishments of dance with an elite squad of fellow high-level DBPs – I feel it’s my duty to take a couple moments and speak up.

First of all, you might be wondering why I put “dancing” in quotation marks. Well, I’m getting to that.

Remember that episode of Seinfeld, where Elaine cuts a rug during a company office party?

Here’s the thing:

I whole-heartedly endorse everyone dancing in situations where the music is irresistible and standing still just looks silly. Good, bad, White Man’s Overbite, I encourage and embrace it. However, what Ms. Benes does in the above example pales in comparison to what I saw from you last night.

You were moving to the music, yes. But not like a man. More like a bull in a china shop. A large, passive-aggressive bull. 

If the dance floor was a busy highway, and you were a car, you would be swerving in and out of traffic. And I’d be calling the police.

Look. You’re a big guy, so I understand you require more space. But I kept having ducking and dodging because I didn’t know if you were going to tumble over. And if you were, I didn’t want to be the person who ended up the victim of a drive-by slam-dance gone horribly wrong. 

I don’t know if you were sober or not. So here’s my advice to you:

If you happened to be bumping into folks ’cause you were drunk: May I suggest lowering the old intake? It could be helpful to everyone around you, including yourself. (Plus you won’t feel awful when you get to bed or when you get up the next morning.)

If you were anywhere between sober and two drinks: Um … just stop. No. I’m serious. Cut it out. STOP. Please. No more. You’re not only a danger to yourself, but to others in your immediate vicinity.

If you have any weddings, birthdays or family gatherings you plan on attending this year, maybe consider not dancing at all. There could be kids in attendance. Do you REALLY want to deal with running the risk of having to peel a flattened youngster or two off your shoe or your backside? If you have a heart – or that part of the brain that lights up when you see pictures of babies – then I beseech you, just a little bit, to think of the children.

Until you can dance responsibly, take a hiatus. Because if I see you again, I will have to call in the Dance Police to impose a moratorium … and believe me, you don’t want to deal with them.

And fellow DBPs, if you ever see this guy or any of his ilk at a club or bar near you, report him to the nearest DJ or trusted dancing authority.

Watch this space for the next installment of “Dancer’s Corner”, when I’ll address those deadliest of dancers: Those Who Fart.