So I realize that this is now the third post in a row about my Victoria Day weekend and your interest is probably dwindling faster than the price of a Facebook share.. but unfortunately for you guys (and mostly me) I’ve got more to say. So pull up a chair, pull out that flask you’ve got stashed in your second drawer (I won’t tell) and get comfortable, folks.
So when we last left off, (just don’t even bother counting how many times I use the words “so” and “anyway” in this post, cause it’s gonna be a lot) I had come to the devastating conclusion that hipsters have taken over the world… then came to terms with it.. then ended-up endorsing a 27-year-old, fixie-bike-riding, endangered species- saving dude named Jef with one “f” for mayor of Toronto in 2014.
Yeah, I don’t know what’s wrong with me either. I saw a homeless woman with no pants on sitting in a Sears bag on my way to work this morning. Maybe that’s it.
Anyway, after that, I drank some beer.
Then Sunday I met up with this girl for brunch and perused the Saint Lawrence Antiques Market. With her
enabling encouragement, I purchased some lovely salt and pepper shakers in the form of Dutch Genies for my knick-knack shelf at home.
it’s not weird. It’s kitsch.
After that, I spent a bit more time hipster watching in Bellwoods before heading for $3 tacos at Grand Electric (AKA Hipster Mecca), where my friend Dominique and I totally girl-crushed on our server. She was the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, and quite frankly, it distracted me from my food.
By the time Monday rolled around, most of my partners in crime had retreated to various work and life responsibilities…and so I was left on my own.
Now here’s the thing- I’m not really one for doing things alone. Since my family is big enough to perform its own Flash Mob, I always had someone to do everything with growing up. And now that I’m away from them and live alone… well, I mostly just force my friends to hang out with me. Or have prolonged conversations with strangers.
But I’ve been thinking that I need to start pushing myself to do more things alone, and had been wanting to go check out this Artisan Fair in Toronto’s Distillery District, so I thought why not go? Just me, myself and I.
It ended up being really fun- I talked to some vendors about their burdenga root jams and patchwork kettle cozies for a while, and enjoyed the beautiful day.
Fueled by this positive experience, I decided to try something else I always wanted to do but never had the courage- go and see a movie alone. I settled on “What to Expect When You’re Expecting”, because hey, why not pick something no one in their right mind would ever go and see with me.
Normally going to the movies with friends tends to stress me out because I’m OCD about time, and if I’m not seated with popcorn BEFORE the previews start I freak the eff out… so this actually worked great. I arrived an (unnecessary) 30 minutes early, and had lots of time to kick ass at the celeb trivia and size up the other people around me. I noted that of the 20 or so people in the theatre, at least half of them were there alone. I instantly felt like a giant baby. Why was this so hard for me, when so many other people could do it easily?
I chalk it up partially to the urban setting. In Toronto, it’s easy to be anonymous and to do things alone… because no matter how weird you look, there’s always that homeless guy playing the didgeridoo and handing out scientology pamphlets at Yonge and Dundas Square to steal the spotlight. In the small town I grew up in- it’s a different story. It’s not as common, or as easy to do things alone, and wherever you go you see about 100 people you know. If I were to go to a movie at alone there, guaranteed old Margaret MacDonald from down the street would be calling up my mom asking “if everything was ok” with me… and then proceeding to tell all the old girls at bridge how I was “a bit of a strange one“.
Anyway, watching the movie alone was great. Things did get sort of weird when I bawled like a baby two- count ’em- TWO TIMES. Yep. A movie starring Chace Crawford, JLO and that teacher from Glee brought me to tears not once, but twice. And if that’s not the saddest thing you’ve heard in a while.. well, keep talking to me. I’m sure I’ve got something else for ya.