Last night we continued our Winterliciousing with a visit to The Strip House. It was our second time; we went back mainly because we were craving steak, but also because they have a much more extensive Winterlicious menu than most restaurants (6 appetizers, 5 mains and 3 desserts). T-Bone came with, and her friend (who’s accompanied us three times on various ‘licious trips), and the conversation ranged from politics to thongs to cats to testes. I don’t know why. We also spent a great deal of time laughing at our server, who appeared to be stoned. He seemed nearly asleep, and kept dropping things and asking his hand, “What’s the matter with you? Why are you dropping things?” It was weird.

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This morning, as if we haven’t been eating enough decadent food lately, we met CBGB at Verveine for brunch. A basket of carby goodness and some banana-chocolate chip pancakes later and I thought I was going to explode. I had to cut a subway leg out of my afternoon errands just to work off the maple syrup that went on top of my breakfast.

A brief, scathing and deadly accurate article written by Christopher Hume of The Star slamming all three levels of government for their ongoing bumbling, negligence and dithering when it comes to the Toronto waterfront.

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The jerk chicken salad from Whole Foods: it’s a good time.

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Is it me, or does the new Globe and mail website look as if they’ve just smashed together the Onion and the BBC?

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I just don’t get some people. Saying things like “We are now saying to insult our Prophet means death. We are being attacked and an attack against our Prophet will mean death.” or “In the Prophet’s time anyone who insulted the Prophet was beheaded. The same should happen now.” just doesn’t make sense to me. Has Pat Robertson been holding classes on how to promise national violence through the media?

Raptors win, Raptors win, Raptors win! They beat New York 104-90 with Jalen Rose sitting on the Knicks bench. As usual Nellie enjoyed the antics of the Raptor more than the game itself.

And hey, 104 points meant free pizza!

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Wit (imdb | rotten tomatoes) was a hard movie to watch, but cements my belief that Emma Thompson is one of the most brilliant actresses of our time. Maybe ever.

You may notice something screwy happening with my blog template over the weekend. Ignore that. Come back later, it’ll be ok.

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The old music downloading inbox is getting too full again. I’ve just cleared out three albums and added two more this morning.

• beth orton . comfort of strangers
• clearlake . amber
• deadboy and the elephants . we are the night sky
• gourds . heavy ornamentals
• isobel campbell & mark lanegan . the ballad of broken seas
• mogwai . mr. beast
• pixies . hey
• sarah harmer . i’m a mountain
• zephyrs . bright yellow flowers on a dark double bed

There are about 15 “loose” songs too. Nothing to write home about yet.

I only downloaded the Mogwai disc ’cause my brother sent it to me and I just couldn’t wait until it came out in March. I’ll still buy it when the day comes, but after all the press I had to check it out ASAP. And it’s gooooooooood.

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Ever since Sunday I’ve just felt really…blah. Wiped. Tired. Run down, maybe. Work’s been busy, though not stressful. I took the week off from studying, so it’s not that. I guess it must just be from last weekend, with my sleep schedule getting screwed up, and I never really recovered. We have lots of plans this weekend — Raptors tickets tonight, Winterlicious dinners with T-Bone tomorrow and Sunday evenings, brunch with CBGB on Sunday — but nothing strenuous. Maybe I’ll be able to sleep in tomorrow and feel normal again.

I suspect the weather has something to do with it as well. It’s fecking gray out there.

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[UPDATE] Said Knicks tickets will be much more interesting now that the Raptors have traded Jalen Rose to New York for Antonio Davis. Not that they’ll play tonight.

Oy. Dilbert is hitting *way* too close to home lately. I’m all too familiar with the theory that saying “bust your ass and deprive your body of sleep for two weeks so that the sales rep can buy a new cottage” to a top technical person is a good way to do business.

Whoa. Guys. Chill.

Armed militants angered by a cartoon drawing of the Prophet Muhammad in several European newspapers surrounded the office of the EU Commission in Gaza and searched hotels for foreigners to kidnap in the West Bank.

Had a Winterlicious-y lunch with T-Bone at Pangaea today. Not bad. Who knew pear & parsnip soup with lemon foam would actually taste good? The pork was good too, as was the veg and the chocolate mousse for dessert. I’d like to go back and try it for dinner some time; really, I have no excuse not to since I live and work in the neighbourhood.

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You know what’s really good? “Lonesome Blues” by Lonnie Pitchford. Actually, most of the Love Song For Bobby Long soundtrack is good. Hard to go wrong with the blues.

I’ve been there, Dilbert. My advice? Ask for baked goods in return.

Nellie pointed out tonight that we’ve seen four of the five nominees for the best documentary Oscar. The fifth — Enron: The Smartest Guys in the Room — is in the ‘ASAP’ slot on my zip list. We saw Murderball (my favourite movie of last year) and Street Fight at Hot Docs last year; Street Fight won the top audience award.

As usual, many of the documentaries carry political themes, but I’m glad that so many films with sociopolitical themes (Crash, Good Night And Good Luck, Munich, Capote) were nominated for the top prize as well. Not that Brokeback Mountain won’t win the whole schmeel, which is too bad. It was a good movie, but it doesn’t deserve to beat any of the other four.

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I. Love. Keith Olbermann.

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To paraphrase Jon Stewart: after the whuppin’ that Oprah gave James Frey, what do you think she’ll do to Dr. Phil when she figures out how full of shit he is?

I saw Zanta on my way home tonight. He was walking down Bloor, yelling at cars. Entertaining.

[UPDATE] Zanta on video.

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Pictures of today’s storm in Halifax.

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This whole motorist-vs.-cyclist in Kensington Market thing has gotten quite a bit of attention. On this one, I’m with her. The guy’s an asshole for just throwing food out of his car into the street. Good for her for throwing it back at him. I hate people who think the world’s their personal ash tray. That’s right, smokers, I’m talkin’ to you.