addictive addictive addictive v.v. addictive

CLEARLY, we are all addicts.

addicted to books
addicted to love
addicted to violence
addicted to fury
addicted to Oprah
addicted to James Frey (google him)
addicted to Jon Benet
addicted to fury
addicted to earning money
addicted to being someone important

read the book a million little pieces

i am beginning to understand my "fury". i am beginning to understand my addiction. i am beginning to understand why one has to love. maybe you should too.

the basement

I visited Uncle's basement in Toronto and here it is.

Yes, he makes his own cables.

the big belly

Oh wow, it's actually bigger than the pot for the pork knuckle stew.

And then we decided to go to this really nice place in Toronto to have some brunch.
Live Jazz was also served. The Boiler House.



seriously.
it looks even bigger in public places.

the T

I think we all had that T.



Or else we must have bought it together about 6 years ago. That's kind of insane though, because memories are beginning to fade and we can't seem to remember anything. (There's always the exception of Mimi, who for some reasons remember EVERYTHING.) And then of course, the orange mover gets to blame it on the orange. All pregnant moms are supposed to suffer from memory loss.


Auntie Rebecca heated up the pork knuckle and ginger vinegar stew last night.

Sweet smelling bliss.

I can't really get my head around it, but they actually have a website that tells you all about the stew.

best posture ever

a picture beats a thousand words... don't you wish you were here, Miko?

somewhere along the way

I finally showed up in my city.

That was the response I got from Shirley when I told her I'd be in NYC this week.

"You're going to be in YOUR CITY?" (Hahahaha!) But then somewhere along the way, a fine line was crossed and HK ended to be my city. Not exactly the most glamourous thing to happen to me, but hey, I'm not all that glamourous to begin with.

I just hand delivered the Hard Rock T-shirt to the BIGGGG orange last night and it was good to be with friends. I mean, real good friends and feel comfortable just enough to fall back into bliss. And the food was good too, we had Japanese at this tiny place called Le Cafe Michi. Very cute.

And yes, it's always about the food.

(Let's see if I can get the orange mover to let me take a pic of the orange.)