Betcha can't eat just one!

There was a bowl of dragonfruit in my refrigerator. Having just finished dinner, I decided that as full as I was, I had room for just one piece. So, I took the bowl out and carefully selected one cube from the pile of them. With my chin over the bowl, I tilted my head back and looked up to the ceiling as I dropped the cube of dragonfruit towards my mouth onto my outstretched tongue--and missed.

That precisely selected cube managed to slide down a good length of my tongue before coming to land amongst all the rest of the dragonfruit back in the bowl. By the time I'd returned my gaze from the ceiling to look at my precious piece, I couldn't differentiate it from any of the others.

Knowing that I'd FULLY licked that one piece and now it was nestled anonymously amongst all of the others, I stood there and contemplated the dilemma that I was now faced with--do I just select another, most likely different piece from the pile to perfectly fill me up after my already filling dinner and leave my licked piece to someone else's picking, or not?


Turns out I have a bit of a conscience--I ate the whole frickin' bowl.

Quotes of the Weekend:

    "Oh hey, look! Greek Myths! I love these things--and they're translated by Robert Frost too; he's supposed to be good!"
    "Wha...?"
    "How come they're in this book case, mom? That's a weird spot for them." *I begin to reach for one of the volumes*
    "Oh, no, wait, you can't read those! They're holding up the shelf above!"
...

I am such a geek (c'mon, Greek Mythology for fun?) and my house is so ghetto. Mom and I had a good laugh.
...

    "PerfectGame (a female), our kissing monster mascot is SOOOOOO cute!"
    "I KNOW! If something were ever to happen to his dad, I think I'd have to step up and marry his mom."

...

This kissing monster is just the cutest, sweetest little thing EVER! AND he's soooooo well-behaved! How I haven't devoured him during one of our tournaments yet is simply a miracle of nature.
...

Volleyballer11 and I headed out to London this Friday to catch the first match of the Men's National Canada/Finland volleyball game. While the teams were warming up, balls would go flying around the arena and the young volunteers would have to go and chase them down in order to return them to the court. A few whizzed by our seats, though none actually landed in our laps--as hard as I hoped they would have. After watching a while, I leaned over to VB11 and told her that if one happened my way, I'd snatch it and stuff it under my shirt, and if they came to question me for it, I'd just pretend that I had nothing and that the bulge under my shirt was normal. That's when, with perfect timing and tone, VB11 pretended she was me speaking to the ball chasers and said:

    "What do you mean you want my baby?!

I died. I think everyone in the whole stadium heard me.

Delightful-LEE Delayed

Every night since my last post, I’ve been swearing to myself that I’d sit down (or lie down since I can now blog from bed) and write post after post about these things that either just happened or that popped into my head that were really interesting. I’ve done none of what I swore. I suck.

However, here comes my attempt to beat that suckage and overload you with way too much literal information that your eyes will bleed from reading so much at once, and yet finding that you can’t rip your eyes from the screen because my writing is just so profound!


Yummy, Yummy, Yummy—I’ve got LEE in my Belly!

Brodder was stuck up at school last weekend and so our Mother’s day celebration was delayed for lack of completeness. He was going to head home this weekend, with an arrival into the city scheduled for 6:30pm. Mom wanted me to make reservations for the four of us at Lee, so I called and found that 6:30pm was the ending time of their first seating and that the next earliest reservation I could secure was in their second seating, starting at 9:15pm. Rather than throwing my arms up in despair and just changing restaurants (because this was where mom wanted to go), I made the reservation.

By the time 8:00pm rolled around, my tummy was grumbling and growling. No longer pleased with the wait to eat at this mysterious Chinese restaurant, I started to rummage the kitchen for scraps of food. Dad caught me and ordered me to stop—“The wait will be worth it! Lee’s is really good!”—he told me. I was so hungry and grumpy, I didn’t believe him, but at least that gave me an idea to distract me; I decided to see what was on the menu.

I jumped on the computer and typed in “Lee Restautant.” I might as well have been looking up “Lee” in a Chinese phonebook. I got a bunch of random reviews, but no pictures or menu to reference to. Finally, after digging a little more, I caught a tag line: “Lee Restaurant, by Susur Lee.” There was no link, but I quickly edited my search to match, and there it finally was.

*angelic chorus*

My family that night was going to be treated to dinner at Susur Lee’s second restaurant in Toronto, Lee. I was suddenly thrilled. I’d only heard of the legendary-ness that was Susur Lee, but now I was going to actually put the stories I’d heard to the test. As though it was food, my eyes devoured every word of the website, from the menus to the reviews.

Overview
World renowned Chef Suser Lee presents another side of his culinary brilliance though a progression of dishes that take you on a gastronomic journey that is different from that of its neighbouring restaurant Suser. When you enter 603 King Street West, be prepared for an enhanced, eclectic eating experience.

I was SOOOOO excited. And Tapas style meant ordering everything and sharing!

Finally 8:45pm rolled around and the family herded into the car, and by 9:12pm, the four of us were being led to our tiny table at Lee.


Mom and Dad had been there once before for their anniversary, but Brodder and I had never been. He and I each opened our small menus, and after a moment’s perusal, closed them.

“Let’s order it all.”

The temptation was so strong, I almost handed the menu to our server and told her, “Yes, please.” Almost.

From the 20-25 items on the menus, we narrowed it down to 8. I can still name them without any aids:

• Mayo matchstick potatoes
• Poached pear salad
• Thai Slaw
• Salmon ceviche
• Bacon wrapped scallops
• Cold sliced beef salad
• Roast pork loin
• and Duck confit

Seriously. I did that all from memory—they were that memorably amazing. We had a few drinks while we waited and eagerly chatted about our dinner to come. My stomach was still growling (as probably were the rest of my family’s), but I was far too steeped with anticipation to notice any longer.

And then the food came.

*another angelic chorus*

Dish after dish, each of us were open-mouthed upon its arrival, and then silent for minutes as the first bites touched our tongues. “Mmmm”s, “Oooooooh”s and “Ahhhhhh”s became the new words of choice for our dinner vocabulary. A comment was made that we resembled the judges of the Iron Chef in both our reactions and our speechlessness in trying to describe the amazing sensory bombardment we were undergoing by the mere presence of this food. The look, the smell, the tastes—oh. so. good.





“Is it weird that I don’t want to swallow this food because then it will be in my stomach and I won’t be able to taste it anymore?”




The infusion of flavours didn’t stop just at dinner. We went on and I practically FORCED my parents to order desserts (Brodder had no problems with that) because we just HAD to try them.

• Chocolate coriander pave
• Molten chocolate banana cake
• Lemon tart
• Rice pudding with black sesame

How could you pass up the chance to find out what chocolate and coriander taste like together? And what the heck was “pave” anyway?

Once more, like the dinner dishes, we were left speechless. Dad threatened and then almost did pick up the plates to lick them clean. It seemed like a crime if any morsels were left behind.

The whole experience was absolutely amazing. Especially for the price.

“I’ve been spoiled. I don’t think I can eat anything else—ever.”
“So what are we going to do for Father’s day?”
“Eat next-door.”

Lee is right smack next-door (and adjoined by passageway in the kitchen) to Susur Lee’s first Toronto restaurant, Susur. It’s only a matter of time...

Fun Quote of the Night:
    “It’s like an orgasm for your mouth!”
    “Mom, you are my mother and are not allowed to use that word in ANY context, even food. You’ll have to pick another word.”

A long time coming

Tonight was so great. It'd been forever since the theatre bunch of us had gotten together, and finally tonight we found just the right excuse. Sure it was a trek out of the city, sure it was late at night, and sure we were a little aimless in our activities, but it was about just getting together--the good times were guaranteed to follow.

Oh, did they.

Good luck Mr. Basil and best wishes to the new coffee connoisseur! Nice car...

Sherman, can we hitch a ride in the bucket to our car? We are sooooooo mature.


The Bucket Happy Dance...cut kinda short by Dawson's mechanical appearance.

It was simple and it was fun. It was simply fun and it just doesn't happen enough. We all used to work and work well together, but now we just play well together, and it's awesome. Monday: softball and beer.
...

On a side note, one of the things we discussed tonight was YouTube, and we were encouraged STRONGLY to find this video and watch it. I did, and I loved it; so much I have the need to share. He's just so adorably, edibly cute. I watched it 4 times and sobbed everytime.



me - I was sobbing I was laughing so hard!
dimps - haha. okay, i wasn't laughing that hard..but it was comical.
me - well, you know my laugh. I was trying to hold it in so I wouldn't wake anyone up...if it doesn't come out loud, it comes out in tears.
dimps - LOL
dimps - toooooo funny.
Mel - hahaha, well, that's what my laugh does

Perhaps I should make a mental note to blog about my laugh. My laugh and my van. Someone remind me...

Quote of the Moment:

"...and he put his sword through his heart and gave it to the dragon and said my love is in here. Take it."
...

I love Heroes.

Update: 2am

I'm home from all my volleyball and socializing and decided to get this quote down right. With a heavy heart (yeah right) I sat myself down and watched the Landslide episode again and got it all.

Hiro Nakamura:

Kensei and the dragon.

Takezo Kensei longed to unite Japan. He went to the dragon of Kiso Mountain and asked the dragon to teach him the secrets of the sword. The dragon taught him to become the kensei—a sword saint. He fought his enemies and won, saving his people. Then, the dragon came to his palace, demanding the life of the princess. Kensei drew his sword and plunged it into his own heart. He handed it to the dragon and said “my love is in here; take it.” And then he died.

I seriously don't want the season to end. But, in a conversation with a coworker today, we decided that even if they ended the series as a whole after this next episode, the entire season itself was so awesome, we could consider ourselves satisfied with a job well done. One of the most refreshing things about this series was the reminder that we didn't all have to be obsessed with reality tv anymore. Creativity, imagination, and fantasy still exist and can enrapture us all.





What's so hard to believe about there being unsung heroes among us? Everyone has a hero--you know you do. But what's truly spectacular is knowing that each of us, as normal as we may feel, has the potential to be a hero to someone else.

What can I say?

Spiderman sucked. One of my dramatic literature professors once said:
    "The best editing is always done with an eraser."
Oh man did that movie need some erasing. No spoilers for those of you who haven't seen it, but I think at best, that movie should have been an hour and 45 minutes...tops. Not the 2 and a half behemoth that it was allowed to be.

However.

It wasn't as if I was walking into that movie with the highest expectations or anything. So, if I had just buried my face into my hands when it got really bad and just didn't watch--oh, wait, that's exactly what I did--and only watched the action scenes worth my $4.25, then it was actually bearable. So, I guess all in all, it wasn't a TOTAL waste of my night. Afterall, I DID get to watch Heroes, so anything else tonight was really just superfluous.

Seriously, for once, I didn't mind the uncalled for interjections from the obviously intoxicated members of the young audience around me, and it was interesting to watch everyone mistakenly get up enmasse at the parts when we thought the movie was over...except that it just kept going and we were forced to sit back down. Not necessarily because we didn't want to miss anything important (because we knew we weren't going to) but because each of us wanted our admission to be stretched as far as it could possibly be stretched.

One shining consolation of the night was the hotness of James Franco aka Harry Osborn. It's amazing how great these villains can look when they're allowed to smile a little. With just a lop-sided grin, Harry went from spoiled little rich boy with a vendetta, to one hot, sexy, loaded bachelor. Yum.


fldskjhfaohgoahbaljfvjapbjaebjjba bajgbvafdbfadjfvbaj ...Sorry, that was me drooling on the keyboard. I don't like eggs, but sweet-smiling-Jamie-that-turns-the-music-up-loud-and-dances can cook and splatter me an omelette anytime. I'll eat him it all up. Yum.

Tuned in

I picked my spot and didn't move for the entire hour. Phones rang, messages were texted, stomachs grumbled, necks kinked, and backs twisted, but I didn't move. I was in the zone.

The Heroes zone. I heart Heroes.

Only 2 more episodes to go--I don't know what I'll do for the off-season. I don't know if I can wait until the next season. It's just so good.

(Boo, I miss you. I wish you were here so I could rant and rave about it with you. Without you, I have to keep all my nerdiness to myself, only to let it escape in random "I heart Heroes" outbursts at work where no one else understands. And even though I know you'll watch tonight, I still have to wait 3-4 hours until you've caught up to me!)



Is it just me, or does Mohinder get hotter every episode?

Quote of the moment:

    "Okay, well tell me this: do you still love h-"
    "No."
    "-im?"
    "Why do you hate him?"
    "I don't hate him. I EXTREMELY dislike him, but I don't hate him. I don't care enough to hate him."
...

If I had to tell someone bluntly about how I felt about something, I wish I could do it like her.

On another side note, I just want to share with you that I spent at least 30 minutes tonight talking about poos you could be proud of. I lub it. I lub some of you guys, I heart the rest of you. There is no difference. You all rawk.

All grown up

I went clubbing in the district for the first time in...I’d even venture to guess as long as a year last night. I had agreed to go with Squiggly as he celebrated Little Eng’s 20th birthday. In my wake, I managed to drag down Sherman, Señorita, and Dimps with me. It was one of the oddest experiences.

While back in the day, going clubbing was the weekly event that our teenaged lives revolved around, yesterday, there was no hint of that reverence that once was. Ready? I give you...the comparison table:

How I went clubbing...

	Back in the day	Last night
ETD	11:00pm	10:30pm
Time needed to get pimped out	2.5 hours	15 minutes
Pre-party activity	Drinking	Napping
Attire	Next-to-naked skirt/shirt; stilettos	Jeans, shirt, flats
Parking	Far, but as cheap as possible	Right across the street; premium
Drinks	Whatever's cheap	The good shit
# of ppl I check out	Every one of them	None of them
ETD from club	When the lights go on	1:30am. Pronto
Total time in club	4-5 hours	2 hours flat
Restaurant to eat after	Markham Station	Markham Station

I guess somethings never change.

But seriously, things happened last night that just made me laugh. First off, as we neared the clubbing district, we came across a R.I.D.E. check blocking up Richmond Street. None of us in the car were any where close to intoxicated so we knew we weren't going to have any problems. However, when Dimps rolled down the window and prepared to have to breathe into the officer's face, he instead leaned through the window and stuck his hand in across Dimps to Sherman.

"Hey, Sherman! Long time no see! How you doin' man?"

While Dimps and Señorita were surprised, moments like those ceased to surprise me long ago--Sherman knows EVERYONE.

Second, was the line-up. I remember the days when we were the regular customers with the best hook-ups from knowing the right people on the inside. We were the ones that you'd go to to see if you could get shooed inside with us instead of stuck in line. Last night, the 5 of us (because Squiggly had joined us by then) were all prepared to hang out and wait our turn in line because none of us had bothered to set up our own guestlist. However, the tables had turned: we found ourselves being usher to the front of the line as the entourage of Squiggly's little brother and cousin. Dang.

Next, was the music. You know when you go clubbing and you get in there and dance your heart out to all the latest hits, only stopping to get drinks when the songs switches to an old-school mix that you neither like nor know? Yeah, well, last night, ALL of the songs were awesome--those old-school mixes were our favourite songs; Boyz II Men, Poison, Salt n Pepa. While we were re-living our golden dance days, the crowds around us departed from the floor, wondering what the heck the DJ was playing.

Ugh. And then, out of the middle of nowhere, out popped a blast from the past. No description here, but let's just say some people never change, and I spent his entire appearance pre-occupied with the threads on Sherman's shirt. Squiggly was nice enough to point and laugh at me after said blast made his exit to chase the sweet asian ass that he so fevers for...still.

There was even a moment that night that Señorita found herself tempted to tell the guy getting too weirdly close to her that she not only had a boyfriend already, but that the poor little guy hitting on her was probably young enough to be her son.

This by no means is a rant though. It's just funny how things change. I had a GREAT time last night. I just needed my posse of five that was too old to blend in, but young enough to still know how to par-tay! And for the record, I do not think of myself as old, it was just all relative last night.

Spring Cleaning

The Conversation Continuance Rule

Once in a while, two people will meet at a social gathering of some sort, and find themselves deeply involved in an intriguing, intellectual conversation. As the conversation may progress, the details and direction of the talk may take a more personal turn as the two parties involved may start to get to know each other better, having carried on such a stimulating exchange. Sometimes, the comments from one may be a little suggestive or coy, but at the same time may remain innocent on the surface. It is just around this point when it may be confirmed or denied that the two talking might have a future together as a dating couple, however without direct questioning, this confirmation may never be received. Why? Because of the Conversation Continuance Rule.

This rule is an unspoken rule that is understood to mean that the conversation must be continued as long as possible (due to its intriguing and intellectually stimulating worth) even if certain details must be omitted. This rule usually comes into play when one of the parties of the conversation who is currently committed in a romantic way senses that the other party is romantically attracted to him or her. While the conversation is good, the attracted party is suspected of only holding a conversation due to the magnetism being experienced and yet there is no reason two people cannot carry on an exchange without feelings involved. Therefore, the un-attracted and attached party will omit any details of a relationship with a significant other until questioned directly about it.

Why be so evasive? If the conversation is good, then why disrupt it? Also, why act on suspicion when the blame of attraction can be both incorrect and embarrassing to both parties. The method of evasion is initiated to keep a conversation going, and to assume that there are reasons other than trying to mate to talk to another person. It is also so that incorrect blame is not placed on innocent bystanders.

Ah, but the plot thickens; what happens when the omission is instigated and then played for so long that the other party then assumes the freedom of the first and begins an assault of flattery and flirtation that the first cannot fend off simply because they are not asked the right question and have lost the chance to inconspicuously make the other aware of a previous engagement? How to tactfully disarm the situation without too much damage to the prides of either side? A question left to be answered another day...
...

I write too much. I found this on Jenny somewhere and found myself so intrigued I couldn't stop reading it. I don't remember much about writing it, though I do remember thinking it and discussing it; not necessarily with a member of the opposite sex that I was attracted to. :)

I still got it

So, today was the day after a loooooong night of partying it up with the ladies at the Brant House. I was tired. My hair was still crunchy with hairspray and lashed back from my face in the essential "bad-hair-day" style. It was jeans day and BOY did I live that up with a touch of sweats. I was all four-eyed and geeky (who's idea was it to party on a week-night again?!). It was the end of the day.

I was stuttering home down the Allen and, as always, stuck on the off-ramp. The day was beautiful though, and I had my windows down. In my own zone, I almost didn't notice the "hi" that had managed to span the distance between cars and warble into my car over the volume of the that danged "Umbrella" song. Against all odds, I DID hear it and turned to face the source.

A car packed clown-style with guys was inching up next to mine in the traffic. Not yet out of the zone, I lifted my arm and auto-returned the wave that was given to me by the driver. Half of my brain realized what was happening and started to smile at the whole situation--the other half of my brain was still in the zone and pulled ahead and away because my lane had inexplicably cleared. As they disappeared from my peripheral I hear the driver thank me for returning the wave--I only smiled more.

I still got it.

But why the smile, you ask? It wasn't because I was all high from still having It (I knew that all along), nor from their complimentary Stares having made my day, no. That smile grew across my lips because I realized that had they pulled up even just a second earlier...
.
.
.
.
...they would have caught me picking my nose. That's why I was smiling--I was too lazy to laugh.

I'll gas you!

I can't believe I was actually excited to see gas at 104.3¢ tonight. Excited. This is disgusting. It cost me $40 to fill the tank to my little Honda Civic. I can actually remember the days when it only cost $20 to fill the tank of a Civic. Now, that either means that gas prices have become stupid, or I've fallen into the category of the aged who remember things from "back in the day."

I am 24-years ancient--gas prices are retarded.

Oh, sorry, they're special.

Girls, it was a great night tonight...so very high-school, but still refreshingly great, nevertheless. Love it.