desaturated stories

One of the huge advantages to working in a coffee shop is the intense amount of people you meet everyday. On occasion, you will grow such strong relationships that you'll have a chance to hang out with some of these people outside of work, which is always fun. Joleen and Zubeen are two of our favorite customers. They invited me, as well as others, over for a game of Cranium and drinks the other week. Cranium instantly became my new favorite board game, probably because I kicked serious ass.

The game is divided up into four categories. One is trivia, another is charades, one is making objects using putty, and the last is drawing on a pad without looking down. I'm usually fairly good at these sorts of physical games, unlike Monopoly, where the greedy-asshole-bullshit-backstabbing-gutless side comes out of all your friends. My game of Monopoly usually ends by forfeit or fist fight.

Hova.

Hova.

This is Kudzai. He is easily one of the most genuine and honest friends I've ever come across. We've been close friends for almost a year now. He was born in Zimbabwe, moved to Atlanta as a refugee, then over to Toronto a couple years ago. He is always an hour early for anything and is more reliable than an elevator (note: elevators need repairing about every 500,000 miles). He is absolutely hilarious and can stretch a tiny story into an epic hour-long laugh fest.

I made these chicken wings last week after coming home belligerently drunk after a night on the Stoop. The kind of drunk that makes you call your friends the next day to apologize for last night. Anyway, I was really hungry when I came home and decided to make an entire box of chicken wings. Everything was going as planned: I set my timer for 30 minutes so that I could nap until I had to flip them in the oven. So I woke up, flipped the wings, and went back to sleep - sans timer! I woke up the next morning to the smell of barbecue. I had a big smile on my face because I thought my wings were done. Turns out they were done after about four hours of being in the oven! My brother woke me up to question what I was up to the night before, and informed me that he took out the wings around 6:00am that morning after going to the bathroom. Even after a week, my condo still smells like honey garlic. Look at those things! They look like petrified dino-turds.

Carribana was fun. I saw a really good steel drum band competition down at the Harborfront Center. This is easily the biggest singular cultural festival in Toronto. Although I didn't get to experience the parade, I did notice the extra million people flooding the streets and the nonstop partying in the streets until all hours of the morning. Darn Jamaicans!





This was taken outside of the Famous Red Rooster in Burlington during our mini-tour this summer. Although the pay is decent, the staff is nice, and the food is good, the crowds are terrible. Being heckled is brutal. If I could, I would take every narrow-minded, drunk, arrogant, American Eagle, jock asshole and let Jeffry Dahmer make cool new suits out of them. If you don't know who Jeffry Dahmer is, look it up, because it'll make that joke a lot funnier to you. Either way, I don't think we'll be playing there any time soon.

I challenged myself when taking this photo above. Bike said he was only going to run through the sprinkler if I took a decent shot of it. Well, the Waco Kid strikes again. Not only was it completely dark out (allowing zero visibility to focus), but he was running full speed at the thing, giving me no time! Needless to say, I want to blow up that photo and hang it over my couch.
Below is a photo taken standing between the median on University Ave. before entering Queen's Park. It's pretty tight in the middle, so it's fun to lay there and listen to cars zing past your head with friends late at night.


The other night I was walking home from a friends house when I was approached by a confused-looking man. He was a trustworthy-looking guy with a very thick European accent. He asked me if there were any stores open that would sell him liquor. It was 3:30 in the morning. I laughed and told him that's not how it works in Canada, and that not even a restaurant would sell him booze by this point. He looked very disappointed because I'm pretty sure he promised some people that he would return back to the hotel with some hooch. I saw the confusion in his eyes and desperation and said "Hey! Come on upstairs, I think I've got a little whiskey left." So we did. Turns out, the guys name was Juraj Lehotský. He was a Slovakian director and was in the city to premier his film at the Toronto International Film Festival. I snapped this photo of him below.

Juraj was an extremely nice guy. Through his broken, drunk english there was a lot of truth and passion for his work and life. He's married and recently became a father in his hometown of Bratislava. We sat and drank straight whiskey until the sun came up, talking about his film and how girls can tear you a new one. His film Blind Loves is a beautiful full-length documentary on blind couples living with the struggles only communication through limited senses. He gave me a couple tickets to the premier, where we met again and laughed about the previous events.

With the camera out, his directorial instincts took hold and he began snapping. He got down on his knees like Fredrico Fellini and snapped this photograph of me. I tried to explain to him how that camera works, and that there is no auto focus. I'm guessing through his drunk-goggles he assumed the photo would be as clear as a bell. Either way, I love it and feel quite privileged that such an accomplished filmmaker took my photo. I don't know, it's just neat to me.