Oh jeez. I think I'm going to have to squeeze in a quick in-person Sloan interview before jetting off to New York City this weekend.

(14-year-old Sofi would have a such a total boner for 27-year-old Sofi's life right now.)

I spent the better part of yesterday cleaning my new place.

I started to get really warm after a while. I didn't want to open up the windows because it was raining. And I didn't want to start the air conditioner because it smelled a bit dusty the last time I turned it on. So I just decided to strip down.

After washing the walls and bouncing around in my lacy blue bra for a little while, I glanced out the window and, to my complete horror, saw a man on the outdoor patio across the way having a smoke (in the rain!). He was definitely looking in my direction.

I thought it a bit undignified to run across the room to gather my zippy hoodie and put it back on as he watched, so what did I do instead?

I smiled genially at him and waved. And then I walked over to the blinds and frantically pulled them shut. More than a little humiliating.

For future reference, no gallavanting around the apartment in my undies while the blinds are open.

Of course, I suppose it could have been much, much worse.

Taken from One Thousand Things That Piss Me Off:

The fact that the last subway leaves downtown well before last call. If you live in the suburbs, like I once did, then you’ve basically got to choose between going downtown to spend 45 minutes with a bunch of friends who never leave the house before midnight, or getting home at four in the morning because you had to take the all-night bus home.

I got my keys today! I got my keys today!

But as always, there are problems.

Here are some issues with the place:

• The carpeting is actually worse than I thought. There's a big (pale) rust-coloured stain that I hadn't actually noticed on viewing. I figure I'll just cover it with the couch, but still!
• The thermostat was completely broken (but after being a hardass, the Super fixed it right away)
• The balcony door lock was broken (see parentheses, above)
• Random paint on door frames, blinds, outlets, etc. Not only did the previous tenant/s pick shitty colours, they also did an incredibly shitty job of painting
• The worst part is this: THERE ARE NO LIGHT FIXTURES IN THE BEDROOM OR LIVINGROOM! NONE! I can't believe I didn't notice this. It's not even a bare bulb and some wires hanging from the ceiling, there is just nothing there! So I am going to have to rely on floor lamps, which will put a dent in my decorating scheme (as well as my wallet). Holy hell, how did I not notice NO LIGHT FIXTURES?!

Other than that, I am fairly happy with the new place. Moving in is going to be a slow process, though. I'm going to clean all weekend and buy necessities (i.e. cleaning products, toilet paper, perhaps a mug) and then, early next week, my buddy The Crippler is ridding my walls of their Booger Green and Nightmarish Orangey Coral tones and replacing them with soothing Ivory and calming Labrador Blue (or possibly Early Morning...we'll see).

Pretty soon, this mess will feel like a home! My home.

Also, shower curtains apparently cost $60 - $100. Swell.

Something about me that's really adorable is my tendency to fall for unattainable men (i.e. professors, marrieds, celebrities, etc.) The latest object of my affections is Mike Rowe, the handsome and charismatic host of The Discovery Channel's "Dirty Jobs". I am so enamored that I have decided to write a (not good) poem about him. Enjoy!

Ode to Mike Rowe

The host with the most
Such charm! Such wit!
Blue collar, debonnaire

You make me laugh
You make me blush
I even love your (thinning) hair

With your rugged good looks
And your razor-sharp wit
Any situation can you weather

I hear you're not married
I hope you're not gay
So we can get dirty together

Twenty years my senior
But still young at heart
You push my loins over the edge

With your coveralls
And sculpted frame
You're still hot when coated in sewage

A ladies' man
A man's man
An Alpha, through and through

Dear Michael Rowe
There's a special dirty job
I'd love to give to you

THE MAGIC END

I passed a lovely weekend in Ottawa. Here are some highlights.

Daphna and Adam hosted me on Friday night. I stupidly forgot to take photos of them, so here is one from their wedding.

Ottawa weather forecast: 23 and snowy.

Maple butter beavertail = breakfast of champions!

Sheesham & Lotus...AKA the greatest buskers in the gabluniverse.

Mandatory shot of Parliament.

For those about the rock...

Ran into Lisa at the Rideau Centre! Holy random!

Sooz and I went dress shopping. We tried on tacky prom dresses at Le Chateau, attempting to out-ugly each other. We were going to snap some photos, except we pretty much immediately got yelled at by management. Twice.

Catriona is sweetness and light.

Peter Elkas and Jason Collett performing at Zaphod Beeblebrox. Killing my uterus softly. With their songs.

Pearce and I took about 700 photos together. This was the only one that didn't completely suck.

I'm pretty fond of this outtake, though. That's Dave Poorfolk in the foreground.

Brunch at the Elgin Street Diner with Aldred, Andrea and Andrew. So much grease!

Thank you, Ottawa! Come into my wigwam, I'll show you my tom-tom. (If anyone catches that reference, I will be pleasantly surprised and you will win a prize.)