I have learned that the following things are not waterproof :

• My sneakers. Soaked through the socks
• My gray blazer. Not the best rain jacket.
• The 5 dollar umbrella I bought as the rain picked up at the chinese bodega down the street. Came apart after about 5 minutes.

When you go to a wedding in another city in another country, you should be sure that you bring the dress shirt for your suit. I discovered with less than an hour to go that I had (despite my best efforts to have a neurotic “did I pack everything” episode 5 times before leaving) indeed forgotten something. I’m not what you would call a “common size.” I have been looking for a new dress shirt for years and haven’t found one yet, so I was convinced that I would be the tee shirt and suit guy at the wedding.

Because the day started with someone thanking me for my unyielding patience, I felt that good fortune was on my side. So I did what anyone would do in this situation: turn down the slightly big shirts my friend offered to try and find one in a local store. I walked into the nearest men’s store on Queen that had a shirts 25% off sign up. I picked up the first shirt I saw, offered the shirt/tie combo to the guy working, he gave it a thumbs up, I tried it on, and it fit like a glove.

I fucking love Toronto.

Thank you Ted Leo for getting me to sing, “it’s alright… it’s alright… it’s alright… it’s alright… it’s alright… it’s alright… it’s alright… it’s alright… it’s alright… it’s alright… it’s alright… it’s alright… it’s alright…” out loud in the office today.

You’re the best!

There’s a pretty good chance that while sitting at work writing lines and lines of code that I just sung along out loud – with fist pumps – with Freedom! ‘90 by George Michael.

“I just hope you understand… sometimes the clothes do not make the man!”

I really need to stop listening to music at work.

Hello World,

You will be pleased to know that today I had the exact same lunch as one Ms. Drew Barrymore. It seems we both celebrated our Tuesday lunches with a tuna sandwich.

However, because my tuna was made with “wickedly delicious relish” and served between 2 slices of Publix Italian Sandwich Bread, I’m pretty certain it tasted way better than hers.

Suck It Barrymore.

It appears that gay men with tribal tattoos are equally as douchy as straight men with them.

This is the exchange between the gay man in front of me – with his fair share of cheese-dick tribal art on his arms and the hungover Starbucks employee.

Tribal Gay Guy : Do you all tip share?
Starbucks Gay Guy : yes.
Tribal Gay Guy : oh i see…. can I give you your tip now?
Starbucks Gay Guy : um, no.
Tribal Gay Guy : Are you sure? I can’t give you a separate tip?
Starbucks Gay Guy : um, no?
Tribal Gay Guy : Oh, I was gonna give you a kiss.
Starbucks Gay Guy : (basically puts on a “seriously, are you fucking kidding me? I’m working, dude” look on his face)

That’s right, “the douchiness of tribal tattoos transcends sexual orientation” (thanks Amanda).