Make lattes for two.
Chill in lounge chairs next to the AC.
Take a stroll to the Rogers at Gerrard and Vic Park for a movie and chips.
Get high.
Watch the movie and eat the chips.
Kiss at the door.
Walk home smiling past all the men oozing out of the sports bars that line the shabbier part of the Danforth strip from Main Street to Pape...
8/06/2007
Perfect long weekend: Saturday
I've slept in. Difficult for me as I've actually become a morning person. But today is a special day and I've needed my beauty rest. I have much lounging to do before I get to the serious fluffing and buffing.
Tonia and I started dating three years ago and tonight we will celebrate our spicysweet love with sexy outfits, serious heels and martinis. Party girls that we are we have a history of actually having too much fun* so we decide to make it a relatively early night and limit our drinks to two at the bar and one later at Tonia's.
I spend the morning in barefeet, dawdling around the cool interior of my home, tidying clothes, making sure my outfit works, digging through shoes and purses. These remain spilling out of suitcases in the basement because I have yet to create a home for them. I snatch the sultry black high heels that my friend Keely gave me last summer.
Keely: "Hey Lizzie, you want these shoes? I got them in L.A. They KILL my feet."
Me: "Ohmigod, YEAH. Thanks honeybunch!"
Several lattes later I'm in the shower. It's fantastic and I almost drain the hotwater tank. It's a full-on prettygirl shower in which every part of my body receives some form of punishment or pampering.
I am nervous. I only find out later that Tonia has been as well. I'm in a white linen skirt through which my thighs are completely discernible and a tight black microfibre halter. I LOVE what this top does for my breasts. The shoes are downright gorgeous and I am wearing silver dangly earrings, my solid silver cuff bracelet and two simple silver rings. I spend a frightful few minutes in front of my mirrored closet door wondering if I look like a call-girl.
I arrive at Tonia's with the barest overnight necessities and a gift in a shiny silverblue bag. Before she answers the door I hear the bells she's recently been wearing around her ankles. She opens the door dressed in a white linen sundress-style dress, feet bare, hair loose. She's dropdead sexy.
Dressed in our finest we head to the Village. Not that we really need the gaybourhood particularly or that we don't like to party in the straight world; it's just that we can relax more here, look sexy, hold hands and kiss without actually putting ourselves in personal peril. A slice of PizzaPizza pizza before martinis may not sound that hot to begin an anniversary date but considering our history** we decide some food before alcohol is the smartest thing to do. Hence the hottest.
Byzantuim is THE place for martinis now that Babylon is closed and we find a sexy little nook out on the patio. Fabric throw-cushions on white benches, glass table, and we ease into soft banter while the waiter fetches round one—The Blackout. Stoli, Black Sambuca, and Jagermeister. It's a righteously delicious martini. Thankfully it's mostly finished before something drops into my glass from the treetops high above our patio nest. We peer into my glass and start to giggle. Oh, do NOT tell me that something is bird droppings!
Round two includes espresso and Créme de Cacao but no poop and we're both that nice kind of tipsy when we climb into a cab.
One more martini and we're kissing; one hand up her dress and we're in bed. Tonia is holding my skirt in her left hand. "Are you wearing this tomorrow?"
"No."
She drops it to the floor and we giggle some more. Within moments there's white linen and lace panties all over her bedroom.
* So much fun that when it comes to the lovemaking part we're too exhausted. This has happened on numerous occasions. It's a crime against sexiness everywhere.
** See note supra.
Tonia and I started dating three years ago and tonight we will celebrate our spicysweet love with sexy outfits, serious heels and martinis. Party girls that we are we have a history of actually having too much fun* so we decide to make it a relatively early night and limit our drinks to two at the bar and one later at Tonia's.
I spend the morning in barefeet, dawdling around the cool interior of my home, tidying clothes, making sure my outfit works, digging through shoes and purses. These remain spilling out of suitcases in the basement because I have yet to create a home for them. I snatch the sultry black high heels that my friend Keely gave me last summer.
Keely: "Hey Lizzie, you want these shoes? I got them in L.A. They KILL my feet."
Me: "Ohmigod, YEAH. Thanks honeybunch!"
Several lattes later I'm in the shower. It's fantastic and I almost drain the hotwater tank. It's a full-on prettygirl shower in which every part of my body receives some form of punishment or pampering.
I am nervous. I only find out later that Tonia has been as well. I'm in a white linen skirt through which my thighs are completely discernible and a tight black microfibre halter. I LOVE what this top does for my breasts. The shoes are downright gorgeous and I am wearing silver dangly earrings, my solid silver cuff bracelet and two simple silver rings. I spend a frightful few minutes in front of my mirrored closet door wondering if I look like a call-girl.
I arrive at Tonia's with the barest overnight necessities and a gift in a shiny silverblue bag. Before she answers the door I hear the bells she's recently been wearing around her ankles. She opens the door dressed in a white linen sundress-style dress, feet bare, hair loose. She's dropdead sexy.
Dressed in our finest we head to the Village. Not that we really need the gaybourhood particularly or that we don't like to party in the straight world; it's just that we can relax more here, look sexy, hold hands and kiss without actually putting ourselves in personal peril. A slice of PizzaPizza pizza before martinis may not sound that hot to begin an anniversary date but considering our history** we decide some food before alcohol is the smartest thing to do. Hence the hottest.
Byzantuim is THE place for martinis now that Babylon is closed and we find a sexy little nook out on the patio. Fabric throw-cushions on white benches, glass table, and we ease into soft banter while the waiter fetches round one—The Blackout. Stoli, Black Sambuca, and Jagermeister. It's a righteously delicious martini. Thankfully it's mostly finished before something drops into my glass from the treetops high above our patio nest. We peer into my glass and start to giggle. Oh, do NOT tell me that something is bird droppings!
Round two includes espresso and Créme de Cacao but no poop and we're both that nice kind of tipsy when we climb into a cab.
One more martini and we're kissing; one hand up her dress and we're in bed. Tonia is holding my skirt in her left hand. "Are you wearing this tomorrow?"
"No."
She drops it to the floor and we giggle some more. Within moments there's white linen and lace panties all over her bedroom.
* So much fun that when it comes to the lovemaking part we're too exhausted. This has happened on numerous occasions. It's a crime against sexiness everywhere.
** See note supra.
Perfect long weekend: Friday
I'm on the subway to Main Street Station where I'll meet Tonia and we'll head over to her workmate's surprise 40th birthday party. I see a familiar face. It's Ab, one of Tonia's best friends. I lift my shades and wink at him. He looks confused then grins and sits next to me. He's getting off at Main too so he's happy to get a chance to wave to Tonia. He's really cute. I like him. He's good looking, maybe of Indian or Trinidadian descent and unmistakenly gay. Just look at his eyebrows. We climb the escalator and wait inside the windowed entrance, chatting a bit awkwardly. Only awkard since he's Tonia's best friend from highschool and I'm her hotgirl and we just want to be cool and nice and like each other. And we do. I think. We just don't know exactly what to say here because the only other time we met was last year at Pride and we were both really really high*. We decide let's each send Tonia a text message at the same time for a joke.
My text: i'm at main w a cute boy. better hurry. i love you.
Ab's text: hey your girlfriends picking on me.
Tonia arrives not having recieved the messages but does a kind of squeal when she sees me with Ab. She pays her fare and comes in for hugs and kisses. We all chat for a few minutes and then part ways.
Tonia and I arrive at the house, which turns out to be not more than a few blocks away. It's modest on the outside and downright plush inside. We enter realizing we really know no one except for the surprise dude and we're marched around by the hostess to put on name tags and get drinks. There is a massive spread on the diningroom table. The kind of expensive shit you can only get at the St. Lawrence Market. I see a slab of Balderson's® three-year-old cheddar the size of a patio stone. We are issued sort of ley things that we are to wear on our wrists. I snap mine by accident and it continues to unravel into a streamer. I'm kind of embarrassed but I laugh and remove it before someone trips over it. I'll get another before too long. Hostess—surprise guy's sister—is already firing questions a mile a minute and the host is already flirting with my lover. Something to do with writing on her hame tag which is already pasted on her pretty breast.
A few other guests arrive—cute gay men all of them—and we are all instructed to stay away from the front door for obvious reasons. The heat is dissipating and we are all hustled into the backyard, which is multi-decked, leafy, and just freakin stunning. There is a table for gifts, many lounge chairs and an ivy-covered hobbit-looking stone garage that looks nicer than my house. Tonia has trouble with the stairs. She's more afraid of stairs than scary rides.
Party-boy's surprise face is a perfect suprise-party face**,
complete with queeny hand to cheek and "oh my gawd!"
Hugs, kisses darling, snapshots, laughter.
The food is freakin stellar.
Party boy takes us on a tour of his sister's house. We marvel at the walk-in closet and I make a mental note of the back bedroom in my place. Serious walk-in potential. Tonia nearly has a heart attack at all the shoes this chick owns and has to remove her 'queen of shoes' crown. At my request the tour also includes a quick peak at dude's new Prince Albert piercing. I haven't seen a penis since my gay neighbour showed me his Prince Albert piercing. What's up with that?
The smokers assemble out front and giggle in hushed tones. As ever, the coolest people end up in the smoking section, like Tom and Eric who've been together for 14 years and warn us about the 7-year itch, and the superpretty man who actually teaches figure skating.
We smokers are hustled out back again for the cake and presents which include gift cards, knick knacks and an anal douche. Tonia and I discuss wether to use it before sex or after and can't really agree except that one should probably experiment at home alone first to get a handle on the device's effects.
Post-cake and presents, the party boy is demonstrating how gay he is by grabbing my breasts and then holding up his hands and shouting, "Look! Nothing!" Flirty host is over like a shot to see if he can get in on the action, which, forget it.
It takes Tonia and I a while to say goodbye to all the fun people we've met. I have a nice feeling inside because that was a really big deal and took a lot of work. We're given a lift home from a quiet dude and we talk about how good it is to be with cool people who do this stuff. He drops Tonia off first and then lets me out at the foot of my street.
* Get me to tell you about the time at Ab's Pride party where I hallucinated a baby toddler clinging to my skirt and looked down and there was a baby toddler clinging to my skirt and I nearly lost my shit.
** Say that five times really fast.
My text: i'm at main w a cute boy. better hurry. i love you.
Ab's text: hey your girlfriends picking on me.
Tonia arrives not having recieved the messages but does a kind of squeal when she sees me with Ab. She pays her fare and comes in for hugs and kisses. We all chat for a few minutes and then part ways.
Tonia and I arrive at the house, which turns out to be not more than a few blocks away. It's modest on the outside and downright plush inside. We enter realizing we really know no one except for the surprise dude and we're marched around by the hostess to put on name tags and get drinks. There is a massive spread on the diningroom table. The kind of expensive shit you can only get at the St. Lawrence Market. I see a slab of Balderson's® three-year-old cheddar the size of a patio stone. We are issued sort of ley things that we are to wear on our wrists. I snap mine by accident and it continues to unravel into a streamer. I'm kind of embarrassed but I laugh and remove it before someone trips over it. I'll get another before too long. Hostess—surprise guy's sister—is already firing questions a mile a minute and the host is already flirting with my lover. Something to do with writing on her hame tag which is already pasted on her pretty breast.
A few other guests arrive—cute gay men all of them—and we are all instructed to stay away from the front door for obvious reasons. The heat is dissipating and we are all hustled into the backyard, which is multi-decked, leafy, and just freakin stunning. There is a table for gifts, many lounge chairs and an ivy-covered hobbit-looking stone garage that looks nicer than my house. Tonia has trouble with the stairs. She's more afraid of stairs than scary rides.
Party-boy's surprise face is a perfect suprise-party face**,
complete with queeny hand to cheek and "oh my gawd!"
Hugs, kisses darling, snapshots, laughter.
The food is freakin stellar.
Party boy takes us on a tour of his sister's house. We marvel at the walk-in closet and I make a mental note of the back bedroom in my place. Serious walk-in potential. Tonia nearly has a heart attack at all the shoes this chick owns and has to remove her 'queen of shoes' crown. At my request the tour also includes a quick peak at dude's new Prince Albert piercing. I haven't seen a penis since my gay neighbour showed me his Prince Albert piercing. What's up with that?
The smokers assemble out front and giggle in hushed tones. As ever, the coolest people end up in the smoking section, like Tom and Eric who've been together for 14 years and warn us about the 7-year itch, and the superpretty man who actually teaches figure skating.
We smokers are hustled out back again for the cake and presents which include gift cards, knick knacks and an anal douche. Tonia and I discuss wether to use it before sex or after and can't really agree except that one should probably experiment at home alone first to get a handle on the device's effects.
Post-cake and presents, the party boy is demonstrating how gay he is by grabbing my breasts and then holding up his hands and shouting, "Look! Nothing!" Flirty host is over like a shot to see if he can get in on the action, which, forget it.
It takes Tonia and I a while to say goodbye to all the fun people we've met. I have a nice feeling inside because that was a really big deal and took a lot of work. We're given a lift home from a quiet dude and we talk about how good it is to be with cool people who do this stuff. He drops Tonia off first and then lets me out at the foot of my street.
* Get me to tell you about the time at Ab's Pride party where I hallucinated a baby toddler clinging to my skirt and looked down and there was a baby toddler clinging to my skirt and I nearly lost my shit.
** Say that five times really fast.
7/26/2007
In the nest of girls
Dock spiders rule the otherwise beautiful and multi-decked waterfront just by being freakishly huge and ugly and able to swim underwater by trapping air in their hair. Days begin with bong hits and Baileys® coffee. Us girlies change bikinis frequently to suit sunbathing, swimming, shade, spider monitoring, or 'shroom trips. The only guy up here this weekend is massive, tattooed, bald, occasionally hilarious but, in the final analysis, far too full of himself. He's in the nest of girls. He needs to mind that.
I find a spot to lounge on the poop deck—a few feet higher and a good ways back from the dock and its hideous occupants. My most arduous task is to get rid of my flip-flop tan lines. The sky is extra-blue, the clouds super-puffy, and the water ultra-sparkly because I'm high on my friend's homegrown. A card carrying medical user, she hits the bong every hour and you'd never know it.
I close my eyes and open them again. The cottage door squeaks open and closes softly. This sun is hot on my tummy and I push my Muskoka chair further into the shade so as to get optimum colour on my legs but avoid looking like one of those over-tanned women. The ones whose chests look leathery. Plus I don't want to spin out by mid-afternoon all sick and dizzy from the sizzling July sun. It happens. It'll happen tomorrow. Big man will eat his 'shrooms really fast and bake in the sun without a hat or something gay like that and then drink a bottle and a half of homemade red wine all by himself to impress us ladies and pass out on the verandah then sway off to bed before 6pm, down for the count, while us chicks make and eat KD® and salad, watch a documentary about wild horses and giggle at the descriptive video function, play round after round of Crazy Eights between bong hits and stargaze out back until midnight. We'll laugh about him on the drive back to the city.
Sun is creeping up my belly again and someone has put on a Cat Stevens CD at a volume respectable for cottage country. My girlfriend wanders down with an ashtray and a bottle of water. She's wearing a different bikini than before. She heads to the dock to check up on the spiders—their size, whereabouts, activities. It's very important. She's armed with a camera. The breeze dries my bikini bottoms that got wet in the rainbow coloured kayak. It makes no difference if I'm awake or asleep.
7/13/2007
After the storm
You decide to sit outside on the vernadah. It's chilly. You're wearing cotton flipflops and a mauve terrycloth bathrobe. A few pale clouds roll by but mostly it's clear. Both cats are inside and the backdoor is double-locked. You've just had a magnificent shower. Today you finished putting all your books out and even unpacked two more boxes. Your mother has offered to buy you a couch.
The night is cool and the sound of raindrops drips through leaves. Two branches frame a star. It's really dark in this front garden. Almost too dark and you make a mental note to trim back the big Catalpah tree and clip the fattening cedar hedge. In the eaves-troughs you see the reflection of streetlights. You get to go to sleep soon. The distant Parkway traffic hums.
The night is cool and the sound of raindrops drips through leaves. Two branches frame a star. It's really dark in this front garden. Almost too dark and you make a mental note to trim back the big Catalpah tree and clip the fattening cedar hedge. In the eaves-troughs you see the reflection of streetlights. You get to go to sleep soon. The distant Parkway traffic hums.
7/08/2007
Overheard on my verandah during tenants' birthday party late last night:
.
Male party guest: "What IS that thing hangin from the tree?"
Female party guest: "Oh, chick said it's a windchimes."
Male party guest: "It's kinda freakin me out."
Female party guest: "It doesn't chime much. She said it's made of shell."
Male party guest: "Are you sure it's not, like, crowns of skulls or something?"
.
Male party guest: "What IS that thing hangin from the tree?"
Female party guest: "Oh, chick said it's a windchimes."
Male party guest: "It's kinda freakin me out."
Female party guest: "It doesn't chime much. She said it's made of shell."
Male party guest: "Are you sure it's not, like, crowns of skulls or something?"
.
7/06/2007
Garden lady
It's official, I've turned into one of those chicks who gardens in her bikini top and cuts the lawn with a handmower in bare feet.
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