with a little help from my friends

the good folks at MTV and Maynard's finally paid out, in exchange for all the traumatizing footage shot during my episode of Date My Playlist. (six months later - ahem). anyway, I decided to take five of my favourite people out to dinner at Fressen, and shit got messy. and delicious. then messy again.










I got a new job, working as a server/bartender at one of the most over-conceptualised venues in the city. Tattoo Rock is a bar, a venue, a high end restaurant, a tattoo shop, and vip lounge, complete with fur rugs and fireplaces. in theory, this place could be amazing, but it's got about as much cool factor as silk-screened jeans on a guido. and since that seems to be our target market, "ehhhhhhhhhh".

I was the first person tattooed at the launch party, as part of my boss' publicity event. they're running artists out of black line, so word-to-the-wise DO NOT GET TATTOOED HERE. mine was gross to the max, full of blown out lines, and felt like shit. the tattoo is a traditional rose, made out of a hundred dollar bill ('cause I'm a baller now'). actually because I knew the artist sucked, and I figured it was meant to be the kind of tattoo that looks like trash. plus side! I'm in last sunday's toronto star. it looks like I'm screaming in agony, but I think I'm actually yawning.

"hi mom!"

AS IF there was any doubt, the Dirtballs are the best dodgeballers in this city. we proved it monday, winning the tiiiiiight championship game. I was on another planet for most of the game, and just kind of floated around and dodged half-heartily. good game dirtballs! co-ed prevails!


life sort of rules right now. go watch a christmas movie and hug something.