I kinda tend to live life like somebody left the gate open, and now I'm running all over the neighbourhood getting into ALL the garbage/squirrels/cars.
Firstly, melt your face here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hU4Cv8E_yxE
Imagine awakening to the swells of a sunlit morning unbridled with Brontean love.
Now imagine what this morning was like when you woke up.
I KNOW, RIGHT?
I'm originally from Toronto. Hold it against me if you want to, but most of us sods from the Big Smoke are really good folk. You'll like me. Well, you should, anyway.
I am a year old to this fair city, but have been enjoying everything it has to offer so far. I came here like most of us for work, and as such I work enough to make meeting people difficult, and so it would be nice to meet someone as busy and as driven as myself (who still enjoys quality time and finding a balance in it).
I fancy myself creative. On several levels. That isn't to say that I'm GOOD at things. Only that I do them. Repeatedly. Until at least somebody thinks I'm good at them. (Usually me lol).
I write. A lot. Chances are you will inevitably be involved in some of that. Lump it.
I'm a romantic. Don't take advantage of that. I'm generous. Don't take advantage of that either. I'm-- well, you'll know when to take advantage.
I enjoy Scotch.
I enjoy hiking.
I enjoy those with wit to spare.
If you aren't as entertained by substituting song lyrics for cat meows as I am, we MAY be in for awkward times ahead.
You know what tastes good first thing in the morning when you wake up? NOT spiders.
Hey, remember that time you showed me your cool star-themed foot tattoo and I was really Impressed? Exactly.
Oh, also, I'm from the future. Just putting that out there.
Here, have an open letter I recently wrote to Quizno's. Because I'm an activist. And bore easily:
Dear Quiznos: I applaud your recent addition of a lobster and seafood sub to your menu. I can only assume this was done in an attempt to cater to a wider variety of people who enjoy making risky choices when it comes to putting things inside of them. Against my better judgement, I fell for it today. And whilst I finished it, reluctantly, I'm still not entirely sure I understand what that was. It didn't taste like any lobster I've ever had. And I'm assuming the 'seafood' component is some sort of organic matter. Possibly from the sea. I don't quite know how to describe the taste of this compound, but I imagine that if baby dolphins could sh*t screams out of their terrified faces, the results would possibly resemble what you've managed to produce here. So for that, I applaud you. It's not every day that a major food chain is able to effectively reach into the nightmares of Victorian children and manifest that kind of soul-crushing terror into a casual lunch offering. And at $9 a helping, well, clearly you're doing God's work. Provided of course that God is a galaxy-sized shrieking tentacle demon that smells like hate and is completely out of fu*ks to give. I'm currently on my third bottle of water, and my taste buds (and short-term memory) have mercifully almost let me forget about what I just subjected them to. Thanks again, Quizno's, for treating the entire population you serve like guinea pigs for your mad child-god fingerpaintings presented as sustenance. I look forward to your next offering.
I want a woman that understands Sweet Thing by Van Morrison.
Why by Fleetwood Mac makes me want to be in a relationship just so I can end it.
Moonlight Mile by the Rolling Stones is probably as raw as love is ever going to feel.
Feeling Stronger Every Day by Chicago is the ideal swell of young energy.
In Your Eyes by Peter Gabriel is... well, it is.
Don't Worry, Baby by the Beach Boys was Brian Wilson's answer to what real men were always looking for.
I Believe When I Fall In Love With You (It Will be Forever) by Stevie Wonder is an absolutely psychotic song. But it's beautiful. And if you ever plan on feeling this way, well... that is not to be trifled with.
I will be MORE than happy to carry the conversation in the beginning. I'm in sales. It's what I do. YOU pick it up when you're ready, okay? Okay.
I will undoubtedly pay for dinner. There are scarcely few things carried over from the old world that bear fruit, but I feel strongly that this is one of them.
Unless you bore me. Then I may politely excuse myself after the entree and swiftly Rapunzel my way down the men's room fire escape, leaving you to pay for your shame.