Food for thought

So last night after work, myself and 2 of my wicked co-workers walked down to College to check out the new Loblaws that opened at former Maple Leaf Gardens.

I admit in advance that I love grocery stores- the food, the classifying of the food, the touching, smelling- a full sensory experience that yields bags-o-plenty to come home with.

But oh-boy you should go to this Loblaws. So we will forget for a moment that the upstairs of this store houses a huge Joe Fresh (dear cheap and cheerful color coordinated clothing- le sigh) AND a ginormous LCBO and focus on main floor goodness beginning with the flower market that paves your entrance into the pre-made food and deli counter.

I would say, without exaggeration that there must have been over 100 different deli meats- there were like 30 kinds of salami. 30!!

There was a pre-made food in containers section, a pre-made food behind the counter section, and a pre-made food salad bar esque thing too.

Moving along to the produce... it was the brightest produce I have ever seen. Did the exceptional lighting and meticulously clean floors make the green peppers glow even greener? Perhaps.... perhaps.

I was looking for some side dishes to go with our chicken dinner and almost passed the fuck out when I came to a wall of baby food. I totally don't mean like mashed peas by Gerber either- I mean regular food in baby sizes- like carrots as long as my fingers, cauliflowers that fit in the palm of your hand, and brussel sprouts that were the size of a penny. I bought every baby thing I could find- you just can't say no to cute food. I freakin dare you to reject the brocollini.

I meandered past the Ace bakery counter and towards the candy counter which had caught my eye when  I passed the wall of cheese.

Oh yes people, the pictures and stories are true- this bitch has a full out wall of cheese that reaches up to ceiling and houses some rarer and more amazing cheeses within its glass doors. I shat myself.

They not only had a full out health food section but one that categorized the health foods into international distinctions. A whole section of Mexican health food.... woa-ha

I remembered about the candy and headed over to that section to find gourmet candy, cupcakes, tarts, pastries, gelato, coffee- basically anything sexy and desserty.

If my husband had not called at that moment waiting outside to pick me up on his way home from work I would have just tweaked out all over those blue menu boxes.

Anywho- realize this isn't such a biting and or sarcastic or really funny blog- I had a bad end of day- but wanted to seriously endorse this place. This puts all other grocery shops to shame- the Superman of groceries, some may say.... someone says that right??????

I feel it in my fingers....

Well holy moly, it is December 7th. Where does time go?
Don't get me wrong, not complaining one bit as I am off across the world on my almost-month-long honeymoon is just 2 weeks but still, time flies.

December through to New Years is my second favorite time of the year next to Halloween- I don't celebrate the holidays but I certainly enjoy them.

Holiday Season = best.stuff.
First and foremost, the Festive Special. If you find yourself stumped at this concept then you are a total weirdo because the Festive Special has been a go-to Holiday staple for the past 29 years of my life... ok, well probs not all 29 years as I am sure my mom wasn't pureeing baby food out of the quarter chicken dinner... but let's not nitpick ok??

Damn Swiss Chalet, you make one fine side of stuffing. Don't care if the nickname "dirty bird" is legit, don't care how much cellulite I will incur as a result of your oil drenched fries- only care about how delicious you are and how much I die for your dipping sauce.
Hot dang I love that stuff.

I will say that ever since they replaced Toblerone with Lindor I have been less excited by the dessert portion but still, chocolate in a paper house- how can you go that wrong- I endure*
(*shovel my face so fast that you would question whether I am or the speed of light is in fact faster)

Second, every single drink they have at Starbucks. Gingerbread latte? Yes please. Mint Chocolate Chritmas something something- yes to that too. Heck, if you poured regular coffee and called it the Christmas blend I would line up for that shit also (oh wait....)

Third, those super delicious chocolate orange balls- you know, the ones that you crack open and then eat in slices? B-yond.

Anyways, I could go on and on about the lights, the kitchy decorations, the mulled wine, the cookies, the festive feelings, the mall displays...

blah blah blah, holiday season is nice.

So? What is your favorite part of the holidays?
What are you looking forward to?

Halloweeny

So, seriously obsessed with Halloween, like, super mega into it. Did I dream of a Halloween wedding?
Yes, maybe I did (although I didn't get my wish- but in hindsight maybe for the best? Don't know that my elder relatives would love spider centerpieces- le sigh).

Anywho, as a runner up prize, all my girlfriends put together a stagette for me on Halloween weekend. It is a surprise so I don't have much (know much) to say about it BUT we are all dressing as zombies- I get to be zombie bride!!!!!!

So this past weekend I kicked off my Halloween month in style with my costume shop. Hell-a-fun.

Dear Value Village. You are so great. 1 stop shop for everything I needed plus some fabulous finds that don't have to do with Halloween (I'm looking at you amazing beaded top). I found the most skankalicious and amazing costume evah. I think it was called "mummy ballerina" and was in the kids section- well, kids costumes are amazing for someone like me who is just looking to barely squeeze into some kind of getup. DONE. Got a zombie wig, fake blood and a truckload of makeup and voila- I am zombie bride.

The best was that a few friends came with me and picked out pseudo zombie bridesmaids costumes! How cute will we be in our matching wigs of terror and tutus (they got themselves red and black ones). I am SO SO SO excited for this.

But aside from that weekend, there is more Halloween to be celebrated. Truly no season is complete without Canada's Wonderland Halloween Haunt. So, I love this place for 3 fundamental reasons.
First. I am a ride warrior. Enough said.
Second. You get to ride all the rides AND they have really amazing haunted houses to play in- double whammy!
Third. This place holds a pretty special significance for my fiance and I- This was one of our first dates back 4 years ago. It was the best. I totally fell in love with him that night. When he shoved me into the man roaming the park with a mask on carrying a chainsaw and laughed while he ran away- I knew he was the one. It's the little things.

Anywho- you should go. But don't go this weekend because we don't need the extra crowd.

So ya, Halloween. Love that shit.

Remembering White Night.

So this year, unlike the years past filled with aimless wandering, Nuit Blanche had a purpose. That single mission: Food Trucks.
Our plan- get there on time, divide, conquer, eat and drink then begin aimless wandering.
Success rate- 10.

Here's the lowdown. I have a few friends who share my unnatural love of food that comes from vendors- in fact my partner in truck crime was also present to witness my face-shovelling at the Underground Food Market- she is the bomb.

So we agreed to meet at another friend's distillery condo and attack the food trucks for dinner.
So here's what we had;

We began at Cava and had some Chorizo Paella and some cod, bacon and avocado fritters- both were incredible- then we saw the mother ship- Gorilla Cheese. If you have cheese in your title, I want you and the super long line only made the trucks fare more enticing- people don't line up for crap now do they? ( well, yes, the technically do- but still). We got ourselves in line and then took turns perusing the neighbouring vendors spending our whole 20 minute line up shoving shit into our mouths.

We got Bacon Maple glazed doughnuts from Beast, our men brought us baby Chorizo dogs and tamales from an unnamed vendor- or perhaps it was named but the food coma was setting in, we got Peameal Bacon sandwiches from the line up beside us from some other truck, and a Wood burned pizza topped with meat and potatoes. Finally, after 20 minutes of waiting (read: eating) we decided that we would do the unthinkable and bud the line.

So shady, I know but drugged with grease and pork we were not thinking clearly and to cut in 3 people from the front of the Gorilla Cheese line was just too easy for our food manic minds. We did it. I will one day just let people bud me in a long line to balance karma.

Worth.It.

nom nom nom. This grilled cheese was the bomb- we got the OG, and original cheese and bread combi, a bacon and apple grilled cheese and a pesto and mozzarella grilled cheese. D-lish.

I unfortunately spent the whole rest of my night walking around like a pregnant woman clutching her belly and waddling down streets.

After a few more hours sharing drinks with our friends my fiance and I decided to break away from the group and go out on our own exploring. This was our best Nuit Blanche decision to date.

Every year we have a huge crew that we go out with, every year we spend the majority of the night rounding up said wicked crew and trying to move on without losing anyone....

Although the spectacle of trying to keep us all together and moving is worthy of an exhibition itself, it never yields in more than us giving up and getting way too drunk in lieu of the art we miss. Being alone with just him by my side made it possible to actually see things- and things were pretty cool.

We saw The Heart Machine- a pyros wet dream, the tennis match, Soon- my favorite as it felt like an apocalypse approaching, and a few more random exhibits as we walked from the distillery up to Yonge and Bloor.

Of course, as is every year, the true spectacle and the true "art" is watching hundreds of very different people come together and walk around in relative peace (although I read that a man got shot at Trinity Bellwoods so peace would certainly be relative) and enjoying their city.

I love shit like that.

Until next year.....

Yum Tum in my Tum

So this morning I realized that it is October this week. Dear time, please slow down- I am so incredibly overwhelmed in the best way possible by the constant passing of minutes, days weeks, months...eeeeeeeeeeee.

So people, what you should be doing today is getting your grubby hands on a ticket to the Toronto Underground Food Festival- because I went on Saturday night and had Super.Food.Orgasm.

Here’s the lowdown, This past Saturday was the first of hopefully many events to come. You pay 5 bucks at the door (but you MUST pre-order tickets as they sell out fast) and then are treated to a bevy of booths boasting foods that will blow your mind. The foods themselves are about 2-5 dollars per plate and there were 4 custom craft breweries and 1 Vineyard represented- I can only imagine the roster will grow with the event itself.

The event is at the Brickworks- Holy crap have I rekindled my love for that spot- the other weekend I did that mega hike over to it and wandered around it a bit and then got to be there Saturday night. It is a seriously cool venue- there are so many relics and preserved areas of the grounds.

Anyways- let’s get to the food because you should all know what I ate.

So, we began with a trio of vegetarian rice- one was a spicy eggplant, one was a lemon lime rice and one was a coriander rice. To say this was the highlight of the night would be untrue but it was ok- maybe took a spot that pork could have filled but cest la vie.
Next we got into an inordinately long line for what promised to be grilled cheese. When we finally got to the counter, it turned out that you could get some kind of sandwich, a tamale and a ticket for a grilled cheese which you had to stand in another long line for. We got all 3 and took our food to the next line to wait and eat.
Sandwich- pulled meat with coleslaw on a Portuguese pastry bun. This was fucking good.

Tamale- made with chocolate- tasted like Chalva. Don’t know what Chalva is? Consider yourself lucky.

In the middle of our line we ran into friends who were also at the event and they were kind enough to bring us Chorizo tacos in line. Hel-a-good.

The Grilled cheese was a Cornbread grilled cheese with ample cheddar smothered in guac, sour cream and cilantro- this dish received mixed reviews among my friends- some of whom really didn’t enjoy- I thought it was amazeballs.the sweet bread with the tangy cheese and the toppings- a full mouth experience.

Next up was the dumplings. Like a dim sum esque dumpling stuffed with bacon and an egg- American fusion maybe- dare I make that assertion?

I know this is going to sound stupid but the yolk was like heaven- I think cooking an egg is an art form- to make the yolk of perfect consistency is a big deal- too runny is gross, too cooked missed the mark but a perfect egg is like yellow delish. This yolk had some texture but also ran into your mouth and contrasted with the bacon (um, always there should be bacon in shit) and the fried dumpling- So good.

THEN, we had a pork belly sandwich called the Auld Spot- pork anything is fine by me any time, any day.

At that point, despite encouraging from my co-eater, I had to tap out- I literally looked pregnant and my belly was a firm solid. But, by that time there were no lines and the venue had cleared substantially- although some fares were sold out at this point, we both noted that if we came again (which I would have loved to in 2011 but alas the next 2 dates- October 22 and November 19th are already occupied for me)we would come later.

So run, don’t walk tot he following website http://yumtum.ca/ and get your tickets before they sell out- your tastebuds will thank you- for reals.

Quick Question

I wonder how many people have gotten into crazy car accidents because they found a spider crawling on the inside of their car.

This is what I was thinking last night as I drove home in the dark along Mt. Pleasant with a spider crawling right over my head in my car.

I am totally not scared of spiders. Sure, if there was a tarantula lying in my bed, I may feel differently but for the most part- unless they are huge and black and ooze green when you crunch them to death- the regular house spider doesn't faze me.

Maybe it was Charlotte's web all those years back that created this soft spot for them- but I always feel like they are my creepy crawly helping friends and my "need" to kill them is solely dependant on the lack of any other options.

But, nonetheless, there is just something unsavory about having them in your car- and especially on your roof- they could just drop into your hair, your shirt- ug that is such a gross idea- I am now itchy- must pause.

Ok, back. Anyways- so even if you, like me, are not terrified by spiders, how can you not watch where they crawl to in your car- and if you are watching the spider, you sure are not watching the road- right?

When I saw the little dude last night my initial reaction was to pull over- except that I was driving on the farthest lane from the side- did I even think to look and see that I would not be merging into other cars? Oh no- I just went for it not taking my eyes of Spidey for a second- i killed him with a CD case (thank god i still keep old technology handy) and went about my merry way when I realized how reckless i had just been.

So, if this was my reaction and I don't hate spiders, I can only imagine the panic of someone who does. Hands off the wheel, cursing up a storm and shrieking like a manic panic-mode.

Solution: Spiders, stay the fuck out of the car- you don't even have a license.

Oink oink my fellow riders.

So, as my fiancé noted this morning as we rode the rocket together (like, the subway- did that sound sexual to anyone else?) I write a lot about the subway. The truth is that the subway emphasizes the most horrible qualities in people so it would be negligent for me to overlook what awful things said people do.

But the true climax of the experience can be found at Bloor Station. I will forget the most certainly fake blond in cheap wannabe leather who shoved her way into me at St. Clair station, I will ignore my total embarrassment for the short and angry dude at the same station who bellowed out that he needed to get off the car as the doors were opening (that is why subways stop, stupid) and pay no notice to the guy who spent the whole 10 minute ride giving me dirty looks after my vocal fiance asked him to move in a bit more to accommodate all the people throwing elbows into my back (sigh- my hero) and I will focus instead on why we should all, collectively be ashamed of ourselves.

Dear people,
If you have been to Bloor station in rush hour, then you know the drill- half or more of every single person on every single car gets off here and for everyone that disembarks, there is someone waiting to get on and continue south. so the doors open, people rush like mad cattle off the train, the people who are waiting to get on often begin the shoving too and if you touch only 10 people in this whole charade, you are a lucky one.

All the while a voice on the intercom tells you to wait for people to get off the car before loading on, to wait for the next car which is seconds away instead of swarming the one present, to follow some kind of line procedure as to not concuss your fellow man, and to walk one way on one side and the other way on the other side so that you don't have to smash your body into everyone else in the entire station.

Um, who else is totally embarrassed that despite the fact that;
a. we are all, for the most part, professional adults in the station during this time and we should be able to maneuver around one another in some kind of respectable manner without the guidance of an intercom
b. there is a fucking intercom and we still can't get it right
c. there are even policemen and guards around and we STILL can't get it right.... oh and don't even get me started on these police man guard people- why are you even there? Do you actually do anything besides talk to the guard next to you???? Thats.not.helping.

SO.BAD.

Everyday without fail people behave like monsters and without fail manage to subsequently make the whole process longer by inserting their stupidity.

People, what is the matter here?
Is there not some way we can manage to all get off and on the subway without elbowing my boobs? Call it selfish but  just don't want to be trampled anymore.

Yours Truly,
Jane.

PS. If you were on the subway at around 8:20 this morning and thought it would be cute to do all the above mentioned atrocities, a special fuck you to you my friends.

Sorry about your penis.

So, is it just me or is anyone else totally put off by the fact that today is September 20th????
- I don't think I am ok with that. Dear Time, Please slow down- yours Truly, me.

I have offish busted out the boots, the hats, even the decorative scarves and packed away all my summer gear (although, not too far as I will need it for my month long vaca- what what).

Anyways- point I am getting at is that fall is here. Just in case you are seasonally challenged.

So donned in full jacket, boots and warm accessories, I spent a most wonderful long weekend on the town.
Thursday night one of my oldest friends got married so my fiance and I took Friday off both so that we could enjoy the night and so we could tackle a bunch of wedding stuff that needed to get done.

So, one thing we needed was our marriage license so we had to head tot he most romantic place in the universe- the government offices. There we were greeted with a waiting room full of people either signing up for a wedding or to change their birth certificate- the ultimate setting for romance.

Some lady decked out as a clown- at least, i think she was trying to look like a clown...possible that she just actually looked like that- unfortunate, but possible.... anyways- some lady got all our stuff together and just like that we have a license to wed- it is a pretty crazy idea if you think about it- if we had but 3 other signatures on that paper, we would be husband and wife- it is merely pen ink separating us from matrimony...

Anyways, after our ultra romantical jaunt we had an appetite (for love- just kidding) so we meandered over to the Eaton Center to check out the much anticipated new food court.

So here's the deal. It's a food court, but a mega awesome one. Some highlights in food include, Big House Smoke Burger, Liberty Noodle (nomnomnom), Urban Herbivoire, Amaya and Aroma. There were so many nice healthy options.

Too bad there were not so many nice healthy people to go with it. Zoom in on the McDonalds lineup as it swirls around the entire circumference of the room as if there isn't another McDonalds on the top floor of the mall and 2 blocks away respectively. I promise that the Big Macs taste the same on every floor.

Zoom in on the fatty bombatty sitting beside the salad bar stuffing her face with KFC. Really? KFC- a whole bucket to yourself? Would you like a side of bacon with that? Some lard dipping sauce?

Obviously I darted straight over to the Urban Herbivore (I realize how off this will sound but they have the best Tempeh). Here's the thing- I just don't believe that if you are lining up to eat at a vegan friendly salad bar, that you should be a total dick face. Again, the food court proved me wrong because I got yelled at by a grown man who claimed he was in front of me in line- I mean, sure, when you step in front of someone in their line you are technically in front of them, so he wasn't wrong per say- but he was also totally wrong.


So anyways, I can only say that Eaton Center is a total gong show. I don't dare set foot in there again soon for fear of sanity lost.

So I was going to post a whole other blog, but while I am on the topic of douchebag men, please let me fast forward to Sunday. Sunday was spent hiking down to the Brickworks with one of my very best friends. Me and her love going for walks together in our neighbourhood as we always seem to have several hours of things to discuss so suggesting this hike seemed like a great idea- it was. This is a seriously nice hike- highly recommended.

Anyways- to get there, and back, you can go through my most favorite of waling paths, the Mount Pleasant Cemetery. `So we are in the cemetery and whilst it is a walking path enjoyed by many, and whilst there were an abundance of loud children on bikes anyways, I tend to try and keep my voice low as to be somewhat considerate of the sanctity of the dead.

So the Cemetery is comprised of roads that you can walk down and although they are true roads with 2 lanes I don't know that the "rules of the road" really apply- so when we found ourselves walking on the wrong side with a bicyclist about 2 minutes away, we figured that, like a normal person, he would just go right around us since the whole rest of the road was void of cars.

But no. Alas he instead chose to verbally harass us as he flew by almost nailing us right onto the lawn- and not to worry stupid dick, not like that lawn is sacred or anything- who shouldn't have to jump on the burial site of Sir Thomas to avoid you?

I watched this South Park episode recently that was about the correlation of small penises to anger. All I can conclude with is that this guy and the food court guy were mighty angry. Just Saying.

Thoughts for today.

If I am allergic to Strawberries am I also allergic to strawberry flavored filling?

I wish I could wear crop tops more often

I laughed really hard at the girl in my gym class who mouthed the words and made gestures to every single rap song that was played as she pumped iron (oh, and she is white)- then I realized i was also gesturing- do you think this means we should be friends?

I had a really crap few days and love the friends who have been my pillars- friends make you rich, in people, which, if you were trading in the black market would make you actually rich.

I am venturing out to play dodgeball tomorrow- in the event that I break my hands (even though they said we are only using a nerf ball) here is how it went- I came, I saw, I played, I got out. My fiance has assured me that dodgeball is a game where you are only as good as your best player, not as bad as your worst. That's reassuring.

Happy hump day.

A violation of the code.

So what you may already know about me is that I really hate centipedes. I found this out when I found them in my home and watched them scuttle across rooms at the speed of light with their ridiculous 400000 legs- not an accurate amount of legs but still.

So this summer I made a deal with myself to buck up and grow a pair- I mean, not literally obviously, because that would be gross, but I swore I would not hire another exterminator in 2011. I stuck to my guns.
I also felt that I had made a silent pact with the Centipedes in my house- I will not kill you in a mass genocide, you will stay out of my sight. We can live together in the same house without interacting- after all, I don't care much for small dark corners in closets so I thought it was a great arrangement.

That was until I met the super-centipedes and now I feel more terrified than ever and saddened to learn that my cherished Centi-pact is null and void. Now I have to start killing you all again (read: getting my fiance to kill you).

I have seen 3 this summer prior to last night. 2 in the sink- i killed them by drowning- and by accident really. And 1 on a wall that I just left alone to go back to wherever it was hiding and not return. My.Bad.

So last night I got home super late and was trying hard to wait up for my fiance who had been delayed on the flight home from his Stag trip- because, oh ya, we are totally getting married soon- so I am sitting up in bed, watching some TMZ when out of the corner of my eye I see a really fucking big Centi running across my windowsill. I remained calm, breather deep until the little bugger leapt off the sill- this thing seriously jumped off the sill onto my bedroom floor.

Are.You.Shitting.Me?????????????????????????????????????

Do they pump iron in their spare time too? How can they jump? How is that possible?

And, of course, where did he run to once he landed??????? Under my bed- and then I barfed (I didn't barf really).

This is so not ok. Around my bed was WAY off limits to my Centi co- habitants. Truce is over bitches and just like last summer, I will attack you with bleach and shoes and I will be ruthless.

Super Centi or not- I am about to go apeshit on your leggy little bodies.

Be warned. It is on.

Vote me instead.

So every morning as I walk to the subway and get tot the doors, I am greeted by 2 familiar faces- the people who hand out those daily newspapers like Metro

Anywho, they stand by the doors of the station and happily pass out papers to anyone who wants one (and although I enjoy those papers, I never accept because I would just hate to be the douchebag who opens up a newspaper on a full car of people crammed up against each other- seriously, if you do that, you deserve to fall into a sweaty mans armpit). For the most part, these people get ignored- I like to say a polite "no thank you" just to acknowledge them so that they don't feel like invisible losers- although they are usually quite happy and cheerful despite having people walk by them.

So, this morning a bit further than where the Metro people stand there were 4 other people who began harassing you the second you got close to them- a good 20 steps from the subway station doors. They were campaigning for come woman (which is a testament to how hard I was listening to what they said- some woman) from the PC party who was standing off to the side greeting us as we ran into the station politely or not so politely avoiding eye contact with her solicitors.

Um, what kind of shenanigans is that? I don't even understand what that is all about. Is that an actual campaign method?

Let me just sort this out in my head for a second. Someone actually thought it would be a good idea to try and introduce a political candidate to people who are rushing to work on a Friday morning (or any morning for that matter)? Why don't they just have this lady knock at each of our doors early morning on Monday and blow trumpets in our ears and throw confetti in our faces?

Who appreciates this?

And moreover, who took the time to actually "meet" this woman and not have her shouting her name after you with a painfully fake smile as you whoosh past her hoping t catch the super subway? I wonder how many connections she felt she had made by mornings end. What a weird ass time to try and meet the people? In human rush hour.

Whoever you are, lady who is running for the PC vote, your campaign managers should be shot.

Where have all the good people gone?

Last night I went to dinner with my grandfather and family. My grandfather is the cutest man alive- seriously, so amazing.

The thing about a Jewish grandfather is that their restaurant choices are surprisingly limited to only restaurants that are extremely busy and full of other like- older people who flock in hoards for their 2 seatings of 5:30 and 6:30 respectively. Of course, everyone is old and loud and pushy and has brought with them all of their old friends and family plus all of their young family too- so it was not to our surprise that when asked where he would like to eat- my grandfather chose the ever popular Mi-Vah-Mi in Thornhill.

Some background- Mi-Vah-Mi is a Middle Eastern restaurant specializing in huge portions and fast service. So if you ask for a modest order of a vegetable skewer, you can expect a huge bowl of salad with a skewer the size of an arm with a ginormous helping of side dish- they are readily available with take our containers as many of their patrons enjoy both a dinner and tomorrows lunch all at the same time.

Anywho- we got to the place at 6:00 and as expected, it was jammed to the tits with everyone and their grandparents. Amongst the shoving and horking into napkins that get tucked into sleeves you must forage through the crowds to put your name down with a young girl who looks borderline suicidal at the thought of one more fucking person in the line that is long out the door. We do and then squeeze back into the abyss of the crowd and begin to wait.

And this brings me to the highlight of my evening.

Dear you Phillip Seymore Hoffman lookalike motherfucker,

Having spent the past 20 something years dining at various establishments just like Mi-Vah-Mi, I have witnessed my fair share of pompous idiot people who do really fucking annoying stupid things. You take the absolute cake. I have never been so personally offended by another person in my whole life. And if it wasn't enough that you made me sick to my stomach- even the suicidal hostess who, I am sure, has seen the absolute ugliest of people come through her restaurant- said you were the worst she has EVER seen. So congrads on that sir. You should feel very proud of yourself.

I immediately hated you when we first encountered one another. Your bratty ass child was tugging on your shirt as we walked in to put down our names and you were obnoxiously telling her to "stop pulling on daddy's expensive top" thanks for letting the entire restaurant know how "expensive" your top was. I was happy to share in that knowledge. (ps. sorry that your "expensive" top was a zip up sports shirt- you must be a classy sort)

Then you left the restaurant with your kids- maybe because they were so incredibly obnoxious and needed a "time out" and returned shortly sans children- your VERY bland and blond wife asked you where the kids were and your answer was- "I locked them in the car"- "what"??? said your wife "ya, I locked them in the car" you replied. "um, you can't lock your 7 and 8 year old kids alone in a parking lot in a car" she said to you as you raised an eyebrow in disbelief. Shocking, I know loser.  Do you let them babysit each other too? What a good parent you are sir. Your mom would be proud.

And she would be all the more proud of you for shoving by me, my fiancé and my elderly grandfather on your way to go spend 20 minutes harassing the hostess. Not to worry you piece of shit, I didn't need those toes.

Asking the poor girl every single time she passes by you if you are next to sit down doesn't make you next to sit down. Of course, this guy for sure thought he was THE MOST important person in the restaurant, nay, the world as he pointed to the same empty table about 6 times asking if they could sit at it while she patiently reminded him that it was for a reservation. res-er-va-tion- a hard concept, I know.

He then proceeded to get his whole families order in line shouting over the crowd that he wanted a breaded chicken cutlet. Um, with all due respect (that's a lie), you are fucking fat sir. A little salad wouldn't kill you. But again, happy to share in his families order. I would not have felt totally satisfied with my dining experience without knowing what they were ordering.

All the while his 2 kids are hanging off the bar with their grubby hands and putting their faces all over everything. How many times must someone come over and tell you that they cant do that before you stop them? Apparently, about 6. You have to just kind of feel bad for kids like this. I mean, how could they possibly be normal and well- mannered when they have been raised by a total pig?

It was a pleasure to wait another 10 minutes and let them sit before us. My fiance, ever kind and totally about to loose it on this dude, told the hostess to just give them our table that we had been waiting 45 minutes for just to get them the fuck out of the way. I think everyone in line was grateful.

Notwithstanding the fact hat he was seemingly so desperate to sit- he first had to know who his waiter was- presumably so he could adequately prepare to harass him too.

All I can say is poor waiter. I felt his pain.

Although the man promised to have a "very quick meal" while trying to finagle a table from the hostess, they managed to sit for well over an hour right behind us leaving me to block out his horrible voice from my ears.

Now, when you want to take something home for free- you should be sure not to fucking eat it first. But again, you probably need some kind of basic human intelligence to think about that so no surprise that he called the manager over at the end of his meal- right in front of my table, obvi, to complain. His complaint- he finished his gravy- wanted second fried chicken piece to go- but wanted more gravy for free in his to-go bag. I'm pretty sure the manager just wanted him out so she aquiessed and I'm sure he thought his comment about how he spent a good amount on the bill made it happen- um, pretty sure the most expensive entree is 19 dollars- big spender.

The whole experience was equally hilarious and annoying and just reminded me of several dorks I went to high school with that likely didn't get laid until they got married, made enough money to afford a average house in Thornhill, bought a big screen TV and Lazyboy and a cheap but still environmentally offensive SUV and now think they are ballers because their very average blond wives rides them every other week.

I salute you sir on taking the cake, and fried chicken, as the worst person I have encountered ever. CAn't wait to meet your kids in 20 years.

One Day

So last night, after going with my oldest friend to watch her try on her AMAZING wedding gown and enjoying a delicious all-you-can eat sushi dinner with her and her hubby to be I went to a movie.

Have I ever gone on my movie rant? Because, I really hate going to see movies.

First of all, I hate crowds and movies are a hotbed of really crowded lines and intense people.
I also hate that crack popcorn they serve- eat just one kernel, I dare you.

But, last night, anticipating a wonderful experience, I succumbed again and went to the show.
While I was in Florida a few weeks ago, I read only books that are movies including "The Help" (FAN.FUCKING.TASTIC) and "One Day."

So when my best friend asked if I would see One Day with her now that it is out on the big screen, I couldn't resist. See, I love a good sad love story and this one left me sobbing into my sheets pretty much for the whole last half.

Canada Square theatres, which is one of the few places this movie was playing, is a total relic from the past which I both appreciate for its charm and despise for it's lack of modern conveniences.

Yes, you pay only 5.95 to see a movie, but the screens are small and the chairs are all on one level so if a tall person sits right in front of you- you are fucked.
The popcorn is also super cheap- and tastes it.
But then on the flip side, no one really goes to this theatre so we got to watch the movie with only a handful of co-watchers.

Now I have several things to address about the night.

First. What girl drags their boyfriend to see this kind of crap. Even if you hadn't read the book and didn't know what the movie was about- the poster itself speaks to why you should leave you dude at home. And the preview! The preview even made me emotional- again, indicative of a movie to see with your girls, your mom, any female....

I say this because aside from the 2 girls behind us and the girl who was there with her mom (so cute), everyone was a couple. I can only say that my fiance is a sensitive, wonderful man who has indulged me MANY times with the likes of Gossip Girl and I would NEVER make him come sit for 2 and a half hours while we watch the unfolding of an "epic" love story that will inevitably leave me crying like a small strange child.

I can only hope, to all you girls who did get your men to come with to see this movie, that you rewarded them with a lot of sex.

Second. The Previews.
Holy crap do i love previews. Sometimes, shamefully, I spend whole hours watching youtube previews of movies to come. Since I hate theaters and fine movies, even at home, hard to sit through (2 hours of quiet stillness + ADD= this movie had better be fucking amazing)- previews are the perfect thing for me- like a short story.

The first preview was this indie love story to come a la Blue Valentine- so I know I have something to see in the future- the next was for a new action movie a la that movie with Angelina Jolie, when she is the mentor to that guy and they kill people based off of names they take off from a magical loom- and yes, that is a for real movie plot....Anywho- new action movie starring Taylor Lautner- who, in case you live under a rock (or you reached your mid-twenties and just stopped watching teeny bopper films) is Jacob, the Werewolf in Twilight.

So, please explain to me why I would see a stupid sounding movie with Jacob in it where he does not take off his shirt or turn into a sexy beast? Poorly conceived idea, no?

Lastly. The Movie.
Like I said, One Day was a really good book- and a really bad movie.
Sure, I cried, but in fairness, I cry during commercials sometimes so that is not indicative of anything.
And the movie was really really bad.

The death scene- and yes, sorry for the spoiler, she dies at the end- was SO graphic and so out of line with the "romance" of the movie (I made little quote marks because the movie just sucked so bad that I don't even know if there was a romance- but still). You literally see her get hit by a truck as if you are watching one of those cheap horror movies or weird viral videos- you actually see her body smash into the truck and then fling itself onto the pavement to die.

Um, don't these kinds of movies usually make the death scene super sad by NOT making it like that? Should it not be the suggestion of death and not a play by play of the contortions of the body as it spasms to the earth? It was just weird.

Plus, so the movie chronicles these 2 people every years for 20 years on the same date- you got about 5 minutes of action per year making it hard to even follow/ believe.

Anyways, disappointing at best.

But of course, like any chick flick, the sounds of people snorting back their tears while the male character cries in bed mourning the loss of his love was almost in unison- making me feel like far less of a loser for spilling about a cups worth of tears over essentially nothing.

Why you should ALWAYS check under the bed....

Ok, so, I like horror movies. There is something particularly delicious about being frightened out of your skin. I love the way it makes me feel. Of course, I am particular about my genre of scary movie. On principle of it just being really stupid, I won't watch things like the Final Destinations, anything produced in 3D- if I wanted some cheese with my horror, I'd order nachos.

I also don't like movies about really crazy serial killers who target women- Pu-Leeze- I have enough of an active imagination about that kind of stuff- don't need any help thinking of new scenarios where I might die- thanks.
Anything with really demented families and or serial killers- like the Texas Chainsaw Massacre- eek
Anything with really scary kids
Anything where the scary things happen at night, to a normal family- or things under the bed- and yes, I still check there for monsters- judge me.


My favorite movies in this all encompassing genre are fantasy-ish ones (characters or scenarios that could NEVER happen- vampires- bring it.)
Biblical horror- lie, if the devil possesses you body- I am digging thats hit
Gypsy horror- like Thinner.... sppoookkkkyyyy
Supernatural horror- ghosts and zombies and shit
Humorous horror- like Drag me to Hell (intentionally funny) or the Friday series (just funny)
ANYTHING with predator in it
ANYTHING with Freddy Krueger

and I will go ahead and say that Zombie Apocalypse is my number one of these all.....

In addition to loving a good movie, I also freak out for a good haunted house. If you have clowns drooling blood in a creepy ass room with strobe lights- I love you.
So- nutshell- I am not a fraidy cat and like horror.

BUT- Yes, yes, preview that plays far too much for my liking on every fucking channel including HGTV which I like to fall asleep to- or liked to as now I have to resort to news or TSC....I am in fact afraid of the dark.

Why should there be such a frightening preview on TV at all times? How is one supposed to erase the memory of that creepy monster thing that they flash at the end from one's mind as to peacefully fall asleep? And that whispering- that creepy childlike whispering- the second time I saw that preview I obvi turned my head away only to realize that the sound of the preview is almost just as scary as the preview itself. Guillermo Del Toro. holy balls.

Ug, I just watched it again to refresh my memory- the combi of children and something that only attacks you in the night in the dark... I barf. AND, and, I just read the Wikipedea of it and the premise is not only do these monsters try and scare this little girl after hours- but also, no one believes her when she tries to tell on them- yet another huge fear of mine....

don_t_be_afraid_of_the_dark_19954.jpg
PLEASE OPEN THIS......


Good luck sleeping tonight suckers.....

Carrot Common

By default, I have become a pretty savvy grocery shopper. When you live alone and must adhere to a reasonable budget, you begin to do all those horribly lame things that you swore you would never do like compare the prices of grapes at different stores. I have actually had full conversations about the merits of Loblaws versus Sobeys versus Longos. I find myself saying and knowing things like that Longos usually has the freshest produce and then I find myself cursing my own stupid knowledge of things like produce.

So of course, last night while at the Metro (which, I just fucking hate- dear overpriced selection and terrible organic fruit section), while I was running around buying my week's groceries- I was also checking prices.
Over at the baby carrot section (obsessed with carrots is an understatement) there were 4 bags from different brands. 3 small bags, 1 large one- all smalls were 1.99, the large was 2.50- a no brainer!
Pleased with my attention to detail and shopping smarts, I checked out, got home and began munching on the carrots.

Well folks, my attention to detail is just not quite what I wish it were as it seemed that instead of the baby carrots I had been seeking, I had purchased something called baby carrot shaped peeled carrots- which leads me to the point of this blog.
Who in the world created a product called baby carrot shaped peeled carrots?
why not just cut up a carrot? or buy the baby carrot? What idiot (aside from me) would be inclined to purchase a carrot, that has been shaved and peeled to look like a baby carrot- even though it isn't?

They don't even taste like baby carrots- you know how the baby ones are all sweet and juicy? These are dry and bland, like a real carrot- so then why?

I am mystified at this product.

So I googled, as any good researcher would, here is what I found from the carrotmuseum.co.uk- because, of course there is a carrot museum, right??


"Manufactured" baby carrots , or cut and peel, are what you see most often in the shops  - are carrot shaped slices of peeled carrots invented in the late 1980's by Mike Yurosek, a California farmer, as a way of making use of carrots which are too twisted or knobbly for sale as full-size carrots. Yurosek was unhappy at having to discard as much as 400 tonnes of  carrots a day because of their imperfections, and looked for a way to reclaim what would otherwise be a waste product. He was able to find an industrial green bean cutter, which cut his carrots into 5 cm lengths, and by placing these lengths into an industrial potato peeler, he created the baby carrot.
The much decreased waste is also used either for juicing or as animal fodder. Perhaps most important, the baby-cut method allows growers to use far more of the carrot than they used to. In the past, a third or more of a carrot crop could have been easily tossed away, but baby-cut allows more partial carrots to be used, and the peeling process actually removes less of the outer skin that you might imagine They are sold in single-serving packs with ranch dressing for dipping on the side. They're passed out on airplanes and sold in plastic containers designed to fit in a car's cup holder. At Disney World, and MacDonald's burgers now come two ways:  with fries or baby carrots.

So, for anyone out there who was wondering- you are eating the mutant carrots.


Bon appetite!

More-Cheese.

Yesterday, to my dismay, I lunged down to hard and fast and bruised the balls of my foot. (ha, I said balls). Seems that I always injure myself in this one specific gym class- dear universe, thanks for the message. 

Anyways, I say to my dismay because the last few days have been so nice and I would have loved to walk home yesterday afternoon from work. Instead, I got caught with The Cheese Man.

NEVER in life, have I smelled a person who reeked so badly. EVER.

This morning was garbage day in my hood and the smell of 2 week old, heated, rotting garbage juice smelled better to me than this guy. What must you do to smell so fucking bad I wonder?

I couldn't breath through my nose for fear of barfing- and the idea of breathing through my mouth and "tasting" that air made me want to barf too- just another time that I wish I had a non-breathing superpower.

And the guy looked normal enough despite wearing a full Modrobes outfit- pants and shirt combi- and as a side, where do they even make Modrobes anymore? Perhaps that his clothing was potentially 10 years old was the catalyst? 

But seriously, what do you have to do to smell like this guy. Maybe he bathes in garbage? But then again, I have worked in a soup kitchen and even the homeless men smell better- this was be-yond. 

So, as a general note to people, you should shower. If you sweat- you should shower more. Never should your abundant BO be so offensive that your co-subway riders actually lock eyes and nod in agreement about how fucking bad you smell the second you get off the subway and relieve our noses- because that happened, cheese man- we seriously all bonded over your stench.

Anyways- Dear Cheese Man, regarding your smell, gross. just gross.

So of course, having forgotten about him by this morning, I was actually happy to be subway bound again as I ran into a friend on my way down to the platform and had some company!

Short lived people, short lived.

Hey stupid bitch in cheap ugo shoes. When you literally smash your heel into my bare sandaled feet- would be kind of, sort of nice to say....sorry???

But that's ok, really, I was dying to have a swollen, cut and red foot. Not enough that I hurt myself 

yesterday- so good that you did that.

Look, you want to hobble around in your stupid patent pumps on the subway-fine, then hold the fucking poles and balance yourself so that you don't clobber people with your stupidity and shoes.

AND, moreover, if you do find yourself harming those around you- actually bothering to turn around and apologize would be prudent. It would make me wish, much less, that you would not break a heel of your shoe in a gutter- not much, but more.

And so again, Dear bitch, learn how to stand in your own ugly shoes or, do us all a favor and stop wearing them,

Sincerely, the world,

Can't wait to see what this afternoon will bring.....

Food 101

So this past Sunday I had the honor of being thrown the most lovely high tea party in the world. Surrounded by all the women in my family I could not have felt more excited and special and though I barely rambled through an awkward speech of thanks, I was most appreciative.

My family, both immediate and otherwise, really likes high tea- it is our get together of choice for many of the celebrations we have in our group and we have even had casual tea on a weekend afternoon just for the hell of it.

High tea is- not just a clever name- tea. You choose from a box of teas and enjoy the tea coupled with crumpets, scones and mini sandwiches and desserts on tiered platters. It is fancy, and ever-indulgent and everything comes with clotted cream- which, unlike the name, is VERY appealing and delicious (clotted cream- who ever thought of that name? Why not something equally appetizing like discharge cream? just saying).

So sitting there at the head of the table, presented with my tiered platter of food, donned the appropriate tea skirt, folded napkin in my lap,  elbows off the table I proceeded to eat every fucking thing in my sight at lightening speed.


And that, dear readers is why I suck and fancy food things.

I was raised by parents who are the children of WW2 immigrants. This is the only explanation I can think of to justify my family eating every meal as if bombs are approaching from enemy lines (and don't even get me started on the hoarding of canned goods). Formal sit down dinners in my house range in time from 30-45 minutes at the absolute max with most of the table up and about by about 20 minutes in- a normal weekday meal can go in as little as 15 minutes.

So, of course when I eat with people who do not vacuum their food up without chewing first, I am always first finished by a long shot. An embarrassingly long shot.

Like my tier of food on Sunday. 2 smoked salmon mini sandwiches were gone before the lovely server poured my tea- the egg ones followed VERY shortly thereafter and by the time most people were enjoying their first or second mini sandwich I had already sampled all desserts and was picking at my scone.

It was at this moment that I promised myself to try and make my meals last longer (notwithstanding the cheap caf sushi that i just shoveled into my face directly after a grueling workout just now....
I really don't want to always be first to lick the plate.

My only real saving grace is that my fiance was raised in a like family and thus also practices food inhalation. We often joke about trying to "slow down" our dinners out- but without the influence of company, he and I often find ourselves on dinner dates that go at a super speed level. simmer down,


At least he doesn't make me self conscious.

So how do you eat dear reader? 20 chews per bite? sips of water in between every 2 bites (these are the helpful hints I found on google so far)- help me in my new endeavor and share your eating habits- even if you too could eat a whole cake in one serving....

Follow Me, Why Don't You Follow Me.....

Alright people,

This morning, having spent some time stumbling upon various "blogging pages", I have decided to come up with my very own pitch for you to follow me. 13 of you already do. You are my 13 favorite people. The rest of you have this opportunity to redeem yourself and make it off my shit list.

Your reasons to follow me might seem few and far between now, but rest assured that you are wrong.
Here is why:

Reason the First:
I will make you laugh. Really, I will. I promise you that you will read about the fat ass bitch on the subway who smothered me in her arm flab or the elderly man who breathed as hard as a regular at Pancers eating a corned beef deluxe sandwich who, not-so-subtily dry humped my back- and you will relate. Doesn't everyone have people and situations that totally put them off- I write about mine and there is humor in the relatable.

Reason the Second:
Don't you want the potential of having a famous blogging friend? Is being famous for nothing that unattainable? I think that the entire cast of Jersey Shore (see next blog) would agree with me when I say no- it really isn't in fact, it is easier than you think. I could be that next great thing and you could have said you followed me from the beginning. Wouldn't you feel like a mega ass if you found out that I hit the jackpot and you were not around to give your e-seal of approval? My 13 followers will relish in the fame and fortune and you my non-believers, will be SOL and I guarantee you will miss out*
*not actually guaranteed.

Reason the Third:
Don't friends support one another? I have a bullshit number of friends on facebook- bullshit in that I think it is pretty safe to say that I don't socialize or speak or even see over 100 people let alone whatever number of them are on my facebook- BUT you can all serve your purpose now and support me whether I am your friend or "friend"- I always look at other peoples stupid shit, blogs, art, music, movies- so look at my stupid shit- often.

Reason the Fourth:
Desperation is kind of pathetic don't you think? Don't make me into "that girl" always seeking acceptance and attention. Unlike Gossip Girl, you don't have to include me in your upper class circles a la Lonely Boy, just have to hit the "follow me" button. Seems painless and much more painless than watching me plead, nay beg for your attentions.

Reason the Fifth:
The blog I read about how to be a successful blogger said to write a blog about why you would like to be followed. Of course, his suggestion was to use extremely clear and eloquent language in a short pitch- that was obviously not happening- but I am doing the gist of it and, as he said to do, reaching out and reminding my readers that you can and should follow everything I say as if I was your ruler (he didn't say that at all).

So, for the last time* please, hit follow up top of my blog.
*Pending success of "Project Follow Me"

holla.

http://youtu.be/A3cfGzuICzA

Its getting hot in here- so fill your cup with Fro...I am getting so hot, I'm gonna fill my cup up....

So, the other night (not the night I spent puking my brains out with mild food poisoning), much to everyone I was with's surprise I confessed that I had never tried Yogurties- or Menchies for that matter.
It was a mere 10 minutes later that I was at the door of the new Yogurties on Avenue road.

I must first say that this was not the cause of my horrendous violently sick night- this was a different night altogether thankfully- I realize that talking about vomit does it make it appealing to foray into a rant about food but that's just how I roll.

Plus, in line with this extra hot weather, I thought it might be fun to think cool so, onto Yogurties...

So, in case, like me, you have been living under a rock, here is the lowdown on these FroYo places popping up all over the city. Soft serve froyo (frozen yogurt- obvi) a la TCBY is served at these joints. Along the wall stretches several batches of flavors paired in couples with the option of each flavor or a swirl of the 2 combined. You can pump as many flavors and as much as you can into fairly large cups.

How might one choose a flavor you may think?

Well it is as overwhelming as one might suppose but the good people at Yogurties make it easier on you by offering small cups for samples. Of course, the cheap-o in me immediately thought "I can just eat a million samples and not pay anything"- Truth be told, I am a sample abuser. Take me anywhere with freebies and I will skip a meal and fill myself with anything they offer. I am a pure embarrassment at Costco and when my mom and I attend the One of a Kind show and reach the food aisles (which are amazing and not to be missed) I usually do about 3 laps trying to hide my face for fear and shame that they will have recognized me from moments before.

But I digress.....again.
Here were the flavors available on that wall that night:
Lime and Kiwi
Vanilla and Peanut Butter
Pomegranate and Tart (yogurt flavor- my abso fave)
Cookies and Cream and Red Velvet.

Didn't bother with the Lime/Kiwi as I am allergic to Kiwi (do I not hate saying that? Being allergic to shit sucks. I fucking hate being like, oh, I'm allergic. I feel like I may as well have a retainer and pocket protecter or whatever. Just a weird thing of mine, fucking allergies).

I tried the Vanilla which was great- skipped the PB because the thought of it grossed me out- although it was the flavor of choice among my friends.
Got heaps of the Pom/Tart in a combi swirl- tried the Cookies and Cream which I thought was pretty lackluster and finally the Red Velvet which, although it was the color of purpley brown barf (sorry for bringing up barf again) was divine- i put some of it on the side of my Tart/Pom swirl and headed to the next station. Toppings.

Because, as if it is not enough to have a plethora of froyo flavors, you also have a bevy of toppings to add to your concoction.
Highlights include mini Entemans chocolate chip cookies, Cinnamon Toast Crunch cereal, every gummy and chocolate imaginable and sauces galore.
I of course tried the most raunch thing available- these balls called baby popping balls- the name alone should have been fair warning- that are essentially like roe, but instead of popping into salty fishy goodness, pop into fruit flavors. And not like tapioca- this was like flavored water in bubbles. Oh. Please. so. gross.

Best part is that like gelato, this stuff is low/no fat. Of course that makes it seemingly guilt free, mind you, the toppings help compensate for the calories- but also makes it a great treat. SO satisfying and especially if you go for the more indulgent flavors, like Red Velvet (which is also low fat)- great to satiate your sweet tooth.

The place is mental, full of people, we went at 10:30 and it was still fully packed with patrons. We saw at least 4 people we knew in different parties so it was great that I was in my most grubby sweats and had hair so dirty that some of it was building dreadlocks.... next time I will know better.

Go here. GOOOOOOOOO.
By the end of summer, these people will know me just as well as my gelato friends.

And speaking of which, as a side, on FabFind Toronto today- there is a coupon for free gelato at Simply Italian Gelato- this place is bomb! Check out my new food blog, in its infancy, to see some pics of the most amazing gelato to date from them- Lime Cilantro. janeplantaineats.tumbler.com This place is so fucking good (and follow my new blog too while you are at it!)

Keep cool today everyone!

Down there, by that square

The Fringe Festival is one of our many amazing festivals in Toronto. Fringe is dedicated to theatre and the most interesting thing about it is that anyone can be a part of Fringe. That’s right folks, you too can put on a play without any experience or know-how just by entering. 

How it works is that anyone can submit their bid to perform a play and there is a lottery to choose who will have the opportunity. It means that some amazing people who would have never otherwise had the chance to produce a play or perform in a play get their moment in the spotlight and we as lucky Torontonians get the luxury of seeing them perform some really stunning works.

On the flipside however, because there are no guidelines or quality control you also get total, utter crap. And with that in mind, allow me to share with you my experience last Thursday night at the Bathurst Street Theatre.

I was feeling quite excited about the play. An impromptu outing guided by the desire to see a musical about God and Satan- something that would usually be right up my alley. It took about 2.5 seconds for me to regret my decision to come and to begin counting down the precious minutes until the horror show ended. 

You may think I am saying horror show because of the Satanic aspect of the play. 

No. 

I mean that it was horrifically bad. Maybe painfully bad. And certainly bad enough that I shrunk in my seat and prayed for a fire alarm.

The premise of the play was this: what if you came to a hotel for a doctor conference with your assistant who is in love with you and you had a big life question of “why” on your mind. What if, at the same hotel a multi millionaire brother with his assistant and sister came to make a business deal and confront a torrid past where their father died after a horrible fight with the sister- are you now confused by this motley crew of characters? Me too.

Now- and you may want to sit down for this one, what if the hotel was run by a hotel manager who was really God and 7 arc angels? AND Satan and the 7 deadly sins ran the hotel lounge? Is your mind blown or what?

Blown- right?

I know.

Now, before I continue I will note that it took a tremendous amount of effort I am sure to put together this performance. There were at least 10 musical numbers that had full out dance choreography for the entire big cast- so that deserves a mini applause and an A for effort.

Unfortunately, the songs were just as bad as the plot and the dancing at times was uncomfortable to watch. In one scene, while the devil is tempting the doctor’s soul (and just, don’t ask, because it was such a shit plot that to really expand on it is just like beating a dead horse) he sends in one of the sins- all of whom looked like hookers-to dance for the doctor.

Most.uncomfortable.2.minutes.ever.

Her writhing was as cringe worthy as Curb Your Enthusiasm- cant watch but cant turn away.

Now, my friend and I differ about who our favorite cast member was but mine was most definitely the super lanky guy in the blue silk shirt who played some sin and whose only function in the whole performance was to kind of hump that writhing girl in her dance. That is a well-developed character if I ever saw one.

By the time the play ended- and hour and a half later I was ready to do just about anything to leave that room. I had no clue what was going on by that point and had long forgotten who was who and what everyone’s purpose in the piece was.

I think I tuned out at the moment when they brought out Gluttony from the lounge kitchen and Gluttony turned out to be a 50 year old fat man in drag who was acting alongside his teenage costars. It was, as many things were in the play, uncomfortable to watch such an older man play along with these kids- I wont say pedophilic but…

The absolute highlight, to me, was watching Satan as he growled his way through the 90 minutes with a flap of toilet paper attached to his ass. NOTHING is scarier than when you get a tiny wad of TP on your clothing and it waves in the wind created by your movements. I seriously thought I was going to pee myself when the flap of paper finally fell off. This moment was well worth the 10 dollar admission fee.

There are just no more words for this.

As my friend put it- the best thing about Fringe is that you get to see truly horrible plays- and it is true. When else do you voluntarily go out to see crap? So to him I say thank you and to the members of the cast- don’t quit your day jobs.