Life in Toronto and the Bahamas.
A Blog Named After my Sofa.
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The Mets!
The Mets are coming to Toronto this week! Since inter-league play started, I always go to the games when they come to town. You may ask: why on earth do I love the Mets? Because in 1986, I thought Keith Hernandez was cute. That's a perfectly legitimate reason for a teenage girl to pick a favourite sports team. It was also one of the rare instances where a guy with a moustache rocked my world.
David Wright against the Washington Nationals, 2010.
That year was, of course, the year to love the Mets. Later on I discovered what a busload of degenerates most of them were, but I had loved and followed them all season, and anyone who desperately wanted them to win, then saw Game 6, is probably a fan for life.
I dip in and out of baseball, despite my love for it. I even stop paying attention to the Mets. I got back into them when they picked up Mike Piazza in 1998 (Jesus, I thought Hernandez's moustache was bad... )They got really good, and fun, again for a few years. Then, they'd suck for a while, but they'd bounce back with new blood like José Reyes and David Wright. We're not talking about 2007, however, so don't even think about it. The Mets are the team that always bring me back to baseball. I've seen them play here in Toronto, but also against the Washington Nationals in DC, and, of course, at Shea stadium. There was no way I'd miss seeing at least one game there, so in 2008, I did.
My lovely (and massive) free t-shirt.
I'll be at the game Wednesday night, and though I will be wearing my gigantic Shea give-away shirt, I am going to cheer for the Jays. They've been on an amazing streak lately, and the AL East is anyone's (except Boston's -ha!) game right now. As I have said before, it's time for me to show the home town some love. It's been almost 30 years since I fell in love with the Mets, and baseball. When the Blue Jays won the World Series back to back in the 90s, it was amazing, but it didn't feel like 1986. Then again, for a Mets fan, nothing ever will.
This is how I do it. My brain turns on at the weirdest times. I first saw a pen like this when I was in my 20s, in a TV report about a movie reviewer, who used one to take his notes in a dark theatre. I searched everywhere, and finally found one. Before I had it, I tried a few other tactics to help me save for posterity the incredibly deep, meaningful thoughts I felt I was having at night. I tried just writing with a pencil in the dark, but that didn't work out too well. My writing, on a good day, looks like someone suffering from the DTs sprayed Silly String on paper during an earthquake. What I mean to say is, it's really, really bad. So, the pencil thing was a bust. Next, I bought a mini-tape recorder, but my middle-of-the-night mumbling was almost worse than my writing. It seemed like my Shakespearean musings would be lost to humanity. How tragic! The pen. Then, I got my flashlight pen. It was a revela...
I am great at spending money. If I know I'll wear it and feel pretty in it, I can justify a $40 lipstick. It's all about perceived value. $400 for gorgeous boots that I'll wear and be comfortable in? Absolutely. More than that for something that I'll put drinks and magazines (and my feet, when no one's around) on? No, sorry, can't do it. It's the law of diminishing returns. Sure, a $500 coffee table is probably nicer than a $50 one, but it's not ten times nicer. A coffee table can only be so interesting, to me, anyway. I understand that this is the minority opinion, however. Hence, Ikea.
Summer storm season is here. By that, I mean it's wherever I am. Apparently, I brought it back from New York with me. Last Wednesday, I left the office with my Wayfarers on, and walked home in bright sunshine, thinking to myself, what are those morons on the Weather Network talking about? It's not going to rain! 10 minutes after I got in the door (for once, I was lucky), sheets of water started falling from the sky. Seriously. An hour later, the lobby ceiling in the other condo in this generally lovely complex, which my friends call Cabrini Green , because the elevators break so often, partially collapsed when a storm drain broke. This left both buildings with no hot water Thursday morning. Great. I discovered this at 7 AM by sticking my leg under running water I assumed to be hot. The shriek I let out woke me, and probably a few neighbours, up. There was no way I was taking an ice cold shower, so I j...
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