This is old, but it is still worthy of some attention. Who knew we had so much in common with woodland spiders?!
Tonight marks the first of our many many dinners on the deck … that we intend to have, in the future. Now that we live in the same building, Syl and I share ownership of a large, secret deck, and a barbeque. Granted, we didn’t get things going till after nine tonight, which meant that we ended up eating inside instead of out. But dinner was still delicious! We shared a bottle of Tavel, which is an appellation in southern France that produces rose exclusively. It was dry and refreshingly acidic, and it tasted like strawberries. I don’t know what we were thinking when we only got one bottle.
We grilled some chicken and slathered it in Sweet Baby Ray’s barbeque sauce. Have you ever tried this shit? It is absolutely outrageous. I got hooked on it while living in the States, and then to my chagrin, was unable to find it in stores back home. But they’ve started selling it here and it is unequivocally the breast, ever. Please eat some.
I created a new dish tonight. I like to call it Poor Man’s Burrata. I poured olive oil over cottage cheese, salt and peppered the bejesus out of it, and finished it off with halved heirloom cherry tomatoes and fresh torn basil leaves. I can report that it did at least a half decent job of satisfying us, with our champagne taste and very very beer budgets.
Also on the table sits a beautiful bouquet of flowers that Syl brought me! Sigh … she’s so amazing.
Now we are laaaaaaid back, with full beers and full tummies, listening to early Bob Marley. Tomorrow night we’re going to check out Reggae Tuesday at the Orbit Room … anyone been?? We can’t wait.
Earlier today, over coffee and Bailey’s, Sylvia and I were discussing drunken blackouts. Syl recently attended a work-related dinner and got so drunk, her night ended with being kicked out of a 24-hour convenience store. Her crime? Talking on a “banana-phone,” then starting a banana fight with her colleagues. Yes this happened. No, she cannot recall the details. And, if you’re curious, yes she has since left her job.
That same evening, she sent a barrage of angry texts to an ex-lover, berating him for being “such an asshole”, and telling him to “never everever call again.” When she awoke the next morning, Syl was overcome by a queasy feeling that something was not quite right. She thought it was the week-old pizza she’d eaten out of the refrigerator when she got home, but upon examining her phone, she discovered something even more horrifying than rotten pepperoni: the previous night’s texts. Of course, she immediately sent a series of apologetic messages, citing Ye Olde Blackoute explanation we all remember from college.
We have created this photo-illustration to encapsulate how she reacted when she gazed upon the contents of her phone. Ya’ll know you’ve been here…
Speaking of Die Antwoord, I caught their show at the Phoenix last night, and, well, the love affair continues. I can’t get enough of these weirdos! Apparently I am not alone; the show was Sold Out, and since we’d neglected to buy tickets, guess who stood out in the rain for an hour rustlin’ up a pair? This girl. It just goes to show how important it is to plan these things out beforehand. I also forgot my earplugs, but a really nice guy who works at the Phoenix managed to find some for me (thank you Paul!) It was one of several warm and friendly human connections we made that evening. We also witnessed plenty of rudeness and passive-aggressive snarking, which seem to be common at shows in Toronto.
In fact, I’ve been thinking about the concept of “show ettiquette” a lot lately … does it even exist? Seldom are we Torontonians forced into such close quarters with our fellow humans, and when we are, the results can be volatile. It’s like the subway at rush hour, but with some serious emotion involved: “You think you love this band? I love this band!” Add some alcohol and drugs, and you’ve got a human soup that may bubble over in all kinds of ways. I’d be interested to hear your thoughts on the subject, dear readers …..
Anyways, Die Antwoord. Which is Afrikaans for “The Answer.” I’m not at all sure what the question is. But if I had to guess I’d say it’s, “Where can I find some avant-garde South African hip-hop/performance art that’s flashy, trashy, and funny, featuring a male singer who has been wearing the same pair of boxer shorts for years, and a female singer with a really intense mullet?”
Ninja and Yo-Landi Vi$$er are backed by DJ Hi-Tek. Not Talib’s guy; he’s a South African DJ who has for some reason chosen to go by the same moniker. Regardless, he spun some fat tracks, went shirtless, got sweaty, and in all other ways held it down. Ninja is a great stage personality …. ugly-cute and charismatic, he interacted with fans in the front row, crowdsurfed like a pro, and even paused during a verse to break up some animosity in the pit. However compelling Ninja was, though, I spent very little time actually watching him since it was so difficult to drag my eyes away from Miss Vi$$er. “Pixie” doesn’t even begin to describe her tininess, her cuteness, and her fierceness. She spat verses in a cartoonishly squeaky voice. And when she rolled out all of her R’s in “Rich Bitch,” making it sound more like “Rrrreeach Beach,” I practically barfed a rainbow.
As well as being bandmates, Ninja and Yo-Landi are real-life husband and wife, and the love really showed on stage. Each acted as the other’s hype man, and they danced in unison while wearing matching oversized sweatsuits. They kept the energy high throughout a set that went by all too quickly.
I loved every minute of the show … Die Antwoord sound much better live than on any recording I’ve heard, which is always a good sign. There was an incredible energy in the room. More than anything I enjoyed the confluence of talent, humour, and oddness. I could spend hours pulling back the onion skin layers of reality-vs-art-vs-artifice, but I’m having too much fun with Die Antwoord to care.
In the comments for this vid: “Someone can explain this…. ? Please”