it's hot... it's fire

It might as well be spring out here. The sidewalks are visible, the snow piles on the shoulders of streets are hard and chunky after thawing and freezing and thawing and the poor, poor squirrels are running around everywhere, crazy and confused, just trying to find a nut in the middle of winter.

I went out and played some hockey with my roommates the other day, but the weather was too nice and the ice was so soft it could barely keep itself together. It was a riot though, teaching my Lebanese roommate the ins and outs of ice hockey. She's actually a natural and has good instincts... well except for the time she skated into the net, leaned back to regain her balance until the large, regulation net started to teeter forward and fall and she ducked her head just before the three-inch thick crossbar came down on her face and would have took her teeth out. She laughed the whole time.

Still on the grind, whoring and what not, in the search for travaille. It's... er... going... I'm feeling like I'm a high school drop-out or something, sac de croustilles!!!! (Sac de croustilles is a French cuss I made up. Try it, it works. It means bag of chips.)

I'm starting to feel like one of those poor, poor squirrels, chasing that nut, buried deep below piles of snow. The similarities go right down the bushy face.

But self-pity aside, and in light of the temps, I'd be remiss to share this Lupe Fiasco track, which puts a little jump in my step every time I leave the apartment in the morning.

Even though the Enemy of the State mixtape -- and this track -- were released in 2009, I'm declaring 2010 the Year of Lupe.

awesome awkwardness

Yesterday, I had one of those 'are-you-going-left?-I'm-going-left-oops-I'll-go-right-Shit-you're-going-right" moments while crossing a street in centre-ville. This usually happens to me a couple times a day. You know what I'm talking about. Those situations where you're walking down the sidewalk and look up to find someone coming toward you from the other direction and to avoid crashing into each other, you both go one way. Startled out of the hum-drum of standard streetwalking norms, you don't bump into each other -- there is an invisible air buffer -- but you stand face to face for a second, before politely trying to pass each other by both going left or right at the same time, and you get increasingly frustrated because you are not able to get by, like you're stuck in a computer glitch.

So why do I care?

Well what made yesterday's piece of social interaction noteworthy was the fact that the person I was locked in battle with sat on a motorized scooter, had wispy white hair under a fuzzy toque and he was grinning maniacally behind snowboard goggles like he was the Red Baron.

Classic.

Cursing in French, he sped away, spraying slushy snow as he took the sidewalk curb in a tiffy. And I walked away with a satisfied smirk, knowing that somewhere on the planet, Larry David was nodding his appreciation.

In a completely unrelated tangent, I've been burning up Lupe's Enemy of the State mixtape of late.

Unfortunately, in high school I was voted the most Barry Horowitziest