Man, I cannot stand Elvis‘ song, “Blue Christmas.” And I’ll bet you have a couple of holiday tunes you could gladly live without for the rest of your life … enough’s enough on the “Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer,” amirite?
And no .. we’re not discussing the ‘controversy’ over “Baby It’s Cold Outside.” No, we are not.
But.
I’ve got nothing left. I’m spent. This week has been the tightrope shit-show from hell. As Montgomery Burns found out on ‘The Simpsons’ when he tried to get monkeys to type out the greatest novel of all time: “It was the best of times, it was the blurst of times.”
So .. I’m five weeks out of leaving this house, and utterly, utterly frozen in a paralysis of what comes next. Where will I be living? Still trying to figure that out. What do I do with all of this STUFF .. so much on the go, it’s like living in the largest and untidiest stress bubble on the planet.
In a Salon.com article this week, Steve Almond accused Comedy Central of having “squandered Jon Stewart’s legacy” by appointing South African comedian Trevor Noah as host, over the then-incumbent Samantha Bee.
One week ends and another begins. It’s been a tough couple of weeks for many, even more so than other weeks. After a bitterly cold and seemingly unending winter, Toronto’s spring has yet to settle in, as it jumps from sweltering daytime highs to overnight lows that wreak havoc on wardrobe choices and spark terror in the hearts of gardeners.
Well…. This was supposed to be Part Five of The Women of Rock. However, I’m going to take a break and fill you in on some of the sights and sounds of this dynamic city I call home….Toronto…. Hogtown… Muddy York…. The Big Smoke…. Tdot…. where I’ve been going, who I’ve been seeing, what I’ve been drinking (G&T w/lemon if you must know. Bombay Sapphire is the chosen one.) AND update you about an exciting event that’s coming to Toronto. Yep….it’s another Toronto Scrapbook!
We’re deep into it now, we Canadians, the meat and potatoes of winter. There’s snow everywhere, the winds are howling, and you risk frostbite every time you peep outside the door to see if the stalactites hanging from the eaves have killed the postman yet. Or if the sidewalk ice got to him first.
Bullseye Records of Canada
