Monday morning, 8:42am
Operation Mini-skirt status: -17.2 lbs.
Mood: on the upswing.
I went to Kitchener on Saturday. It's a small city about 50 minutes west of Toronto, and it's home to Oktoberfest, a lot of German culture, and the Mennonites.
It's also home to an old friend I'll call Wee Lad here. (For the record, he's not terribly wee, but he is 3 years younger than I am, so hence the name. I'd call him Cub, but that makes me feel even more of a cougar...)
Anyway, Wee Lad manages and MCs three large bars over there. As my small circle and I hadn't seen him in ages and ages, off we went.
I learned one thing on Saturday. I really didn't know what I have by living in Toronto.
Kitchener is... small. Smaller than Toronto, anyway. Probably smaller than one of Toronto's suburbs. And I wouldn't call it... hickish per se...
Look; regardless of the fact that I always know what fork to use, and I try to keep my vowels round, sophistication does not come effortlessly to me. Yet, on Saturday night, I felt like a mix of Audrey, Katherine and Princess Grace!
I was the sophisticated one!
I was even the thin one!
The good hair was on MY head! (Why do all the girls in small towns insist on keeping their hair so unfashionably long and... so big? Not a layer to be found! No texturizing, no... mousse! I think I even saw a scrunchie!)
And this is a big However.
I had a better time in a bar that night than I have in a looong time in my fair city. And for the record - nary an ounce of firewater in me. It was a club soda kind of evening.
The music was FUN! There were tunes from every genre you can think of, and everybody danced! Young, old, big and small! Pseudo-hip and maxi-hick! (Kudos, by the way, to Wee Lad, who keeps the party going like a pro.)
Everybody was having a hell of a fabulous time!
It was such a different vibe than it is here. There was no evidence of Generation X-style angst, and people were *gasp* smiling! Toronto, while having a proliferation of model-like bodies, chic shoes and expensive coifs, is - and I hate to say this - very, very snooty.
I love my city. I really do. But it was an interesting lesson, nonetheless.
* * *
Mandy came home from Jersey on Saturday. She's in the midst of the best of times and the worst of times, and my heart is breaking for her.
Geography can be a pain in the ass sometimes.
I spent most of Sunday with her, and I like to think I took the raw edge off of coming home, but I fear that I only masked it a little. I wish there was more that I could do, but even I can't bridge the span of time and ocean for my friend.
She did tell me a bit of her British friends, though. They seem quality lads, and I look forward to meeting them. There will be alcohol involved at that time, of course, as I firmly believe 'in vinos veritas'.
And that takes me into this week. Let's hope the mood goes up and the pounds go down. Have a good day, all.
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