Okay…so we make it through the doors and to my car…and before I run out of gas—literally—I decide to get some (smart, hu?). So Lauren chills in the car, while I try not to bitch at the $1.25/liter cost…for all you lucky American’s out there…1 gallon=aprox 4 liters…so I’m paying more than $4, per gallon…yeah, that’s right, be thankful.
After this exciting venture, we head back to my place…which I feel is difficult to describe…or at least difficult to picture unless you’ve been around basements. I mean…I have my own private entrance to the house and everything…it’s literally an apartment. So she’s checking out the place…and I’m wishing I had all my own furniture and such from Vegas…eh, what can you do?
First order of business, is for me to call and apologize for my late check in…Hilton asks you check in by three or pay an extra fee…I drop my Dad’s name…and we get our check in extended to at least 12am…Nice, hu? So, we muddle around…I STRONGLY consider a nap…which ends up getting kaput due to the fact that Lauren has pulled up Facebook.
We spend at least an hour looking at our graduating class…and remark on everyone…we have this total reconnect moment when we flash up a picture of…well, she shall remain nameless…and I say, “Um, are those real?” at the very same time Lauren says, “Okay, someone had a boob job.”
We start to pack half-assedly…and MGFM calls… go over the evenings plans…then have him and Lauren chat. But not before he suggests that I hook up with Lauren (the whole conversation is WAY to long to post it here…but suffice it to say that he spilled about some guy and I was like…yeah…must be nice.) I explain that, although Lauren and I are close, we’re not close like that, and we both like dic—haha…I mean boys, of course, more than girls…(Or in Lauren’s case one boy). A brief thing comes up, because MGFM is unclear about the difference between Washington (say…Seattle) and Washington, DC. MGFM asks Lauren—if she’s so smart—how many provinces are there?…she’s like, “I don’t know seven to nine? But if it’s anything like the states, there are some that don’t count…Like the Dakotas…go ahead and take those if you want ‘em.” They seem to be getting along well, which is good, since there is no way she’s getting out of Toronto w/o meeting him.
Finally we start to move…it’s about 5ish when we leave…the Leafs game is at 7…*sigh*…yeah, this is going to be an issue…since I definitely haven’t showered since before filming…Eeeeew, I just grossed myself out! Anyways, we take the Don Valley downtown…lost for awhile, until we realize we’re looking for Richmond West and not Richmond East. We park, check in, and room with little issue worth mentioning. Of course, there is the moment when the manager tells us, unfortunately the Executive Lounge is closed (we later find out that a Mont blanc commercial is being filmed…and I shamelessly conceder talking to a crew person…or the hott model guy in the shot…Neither of which happens.) and gives us two free drink tickets each. Oh yeah…and the elevator of death…or, as they like to call it, the “scenic elevator”…all glass, facing out to the city…even when the elevator stops randomly and starts to shack…yeah, we don’t like this one so much…especially Lauren, who has to stair at the metal doors.
Haha…Lauren’s afraid of heights…I swear that’s just…well, too easy, really, isn’t it?
Right, so up in the room. I’m pissed to find that my portable DVD player will not plug into the TV…whatever, I plug it into the wall and blast THE EMPEROR’S NEW GROOVE anyways, because…well, let’s face facts here, no one appreciates that movie as much as I do except Lauren. Hello, David Spade …AND John Goodman ….AND Patrick Warburton….AND Wendie Malick? Honestly, what’s funnier? And a talking Lama? Is there a funnier animal than a lama, really? I don’t think so…disagree, hu? Don’t make me send you The Lama Song.
I take a shower…and demand Lauren call downstairs…because we only have one robe…ridiculously retarded, I know, but it was really kinda funny to be there…bitching about robes as if we had the right…also, for a side note on the robes…mine hit me at the space between my ankles and my calves…Lauren’s—which was the same size, mind you—hit her just above her knees.
Again with the answer to why I ALWAYS wear heals.
Lauren preps for make-up and generally freshens up…I figure out what I’m wearing. I settle on my, “Blonds Tease, Brunettes Please” off the shoulder T…which Lauren questions the reliability of…and some jeans…rolled up with my new brown butterfly boots. I’m on my way to looking presentable. Lauren exits shower, demands I use the blow dryer, pulls on a turquoise top, and some jeans…with cute jewelry I can’t honestly describe…just…cute…she forgoes heals for flat shoes...she calls ‘em Chuckers, but they’re Converse to me…must be nice. Anyways, I manage to break the blow dryer while Lauren and I do the make-up thing…pinks and purples for me…bronzes and grays for her. We discuss lip options…she straightens my hair—and her own…*cough* already straight hair…with her brand new fabulous Chi Iron.
We start to finish up…and it’s almost seven…I call down to the desk to make sure cabs are running…and we discover our toilet is not working…not nice for anyone…we go downstairs—don’t worry, in a non “scenic elevator”—and I make a fool out of my self by hanging upside-down, trying to fix the cuff of my jeans, while two boys stair at me shamelessly. Too late, I realize they’re part of the Mont blanc crew. We hale a cab to the Air Canada Center…which goes along fine until I start to really pay attention.
You see…the cabbie may—possibly—be over eighty years old…which wouldn’t be a big issue…if he wasn’t—perhaps—not sober. Still, I make the best of things, chit-chatting like I do…before I start to look around the cab…you see, I notice some hair ties around the rear view mirror, and I think…oh, well, that’s cool, the guy keeps ties chicks (or guys, I suppose) leave in the taxi…although, Ick, who uses someone else’s hair ties? But whatever, it’s no big…AAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!! I flip out…because the guy has hair ties/rubber bands around every possible surface in the damn taxi…rear view mirrors…visors, steering wheel, gear shift…Seriously, NOT OKAY!
Luckily, we get out alive…and get bombarded by scalpers. We flash our own tickets…which are better, and not as much (face value) as they’re asking…heh. We wander around the Air Canada Center…trying to find out where our seats are. We find them…but, since the game has started, are restricted by the seat usher guy. Well, I’m not sure if the guy was just really uncomfortable with English or if he just hated everyone who wasn’t in their seats EXACTLY at 7pm, but he wouldn’t let any (and by any, I’m speaking of at least 10 people) of us in to our seats. Finally we get the okay…we start to enter row 17…but get some strong rebuttals…seeing the next section area less governed by the spawn of Stalin, we back out, attempting to go around…Stalin’s sperm freaks out…and so do the people in the isles…Okay, given, we’re late, we screwed up, and we’re sorry. But it’s not even 10 minutes into the game, fellas, give the cute girls a break…no, no, they will not. Lauren gets something along the lines of, “Either sit or get the F**k out,” which, if I had heard, I *might* have mentioned that all our tickets were the same price, so who gave him the right to issue orders?
We find our seats…dead center from either section’s stairs…whatever, we’re finally here, seated and…Lauren is really getting into hockey. Now…ha…one of my deep, dark secrets (okay, not really, for anyone who’s heard my “ice fantasy”) is that I LOVE hockey. I love hockey (and hockey players) like Texas love football (and football players). What I did not expect, is Lauren’s affinity for the game…of course, she’s taken a Lauren type stance on things…which entails: screaming at a player who’s gotten hit to fight back, “Come on, are you gonna just take that? He took you out! Man the F**k up and hit him back!”; giving advice, “You know…I’m not sure if they’re aware…but if they keep the puck down ON the ice, they’ll be able to control it better. Maybe I should tell their coaches?”; and references for her hockey knowledge, “Okay…I may not have seen a lot of hockey, but I have watched the Mighty Ducks many times. I know what’s what.”
It’s about this time that I realize part of my production/business conglomerate is going to be Lauren, giving commentary about movies—picture mystery science theater...and sports…and news—picture politically incorrect…I start to picture the implications…while enjoying the game…trying to track down some grub…and figuring out what the hell the goalies in the different color jerseys are doing between the last two periods…
Honestly, I’m just happy to be with Lauren…doing what we do and dancing around, in a blatant attempt to get on the Jumbo screen (to which, our next seat neighbor snarks: “It took you over an hour to get food, now you’re trying to get on TV?” I inform him that both of us have been on TV already, and he pretends to be impressed.), and trying to ignore the fact that—on my side—we’ve got Leaf fans, and—on Lauren’s side—we’ve got Canadian fans.
Seriously, it was like the battle of the id and the superego
Well…something like that…More to come soon…
Top 10 reasons why I’m friends with MGFM:
10 He constantly refers to me as his “Friend from LA”
9 He thinks I’m too cool for him.
8 He needs a total stranger to explain US geography…even though Lauren and I have done our best…
7 He opens doors for me…and carries my bags when they’re too heavy.
6 He thinks I’m funny…especially when I talk in my “Jessica Simpson voice”—read—Texas accent.
5 We both like tall blonds…
4 We both use boys to get VIP into clubs
3 We discuss safety…hehehe.
2 He asks what size I am…so he can buy me clothes.
1 He said, “Are you sure you don’t need an extra small?” When I said small to question #2
Night time, love ya’ll! (And I mean that in the best of ways…)
Quote of the Moment: “So, I was running late this morning…I mean, I didn’t even jerk off…”
Soundtrack of the Moment: Nickelback’s All the Right Reasons…which, if you haven’t heard…look up the lyrics to “Fight for All the Wrong Reasons”…also “Animals”…best sex songs I’ve heard in awhile….=D
TV/Movie Quote: From Queen of the Damned, “You're beautiful to me because you're human. Your frailty. Your short years. Your heart. All that suddenly seems more precious than anything I've ever known.”