If you have the means, I highly recommend it: the gale-force wind at soccer (seventy damn kilometres per hour!) picked up to a new and astonishing degree of viciousness, and I turned directly into it, facing the fiery sun behind its roiling slate-grey clouds, and screamed at the top of my lungs, arms spread wide and my cloak streaming straight out behind me. And now, I feel better.

Upsides to having my bike stolen: Pseudo Mommy and Daddy (Matthew and Leah) took me out for breakfast; Tama and Jess sent me a cartoon of them as the "Pussy Brigade" in which they first medievaled the bike thief and then offered me some recuperative three-way sex; co-bike-lover Mer sent her commiserations from Nova Scotia via e-mail; Bex blogged about it; Steve bought me a beer and a really good hamburger while regaling me with tales of the Sunshine State; Chris didn't rape me once; and Zam... well, Zam was a bitch. Oh, and the police actually called me back, which was nothing short of miraculous. Apparently my Kona Nunu, whom I called Threepio but everyone else referred to as Twix, was quite distinctive and might yet find her way back to me. But if there's one thing that 2005 has definitively taught me, it's that hope is for retards.

Torontonians take note: the young lady playing Kitty Pride (who, ironically, is pictured in comic form at the left, for at least as long as this post is at the top of the page) is also that fine piece of hotness currently gracing the cover of Now Magazine, who actually caused me neck damage today while passing a paper box. See, and be amazed. I don't know if she's Kitty hot, but whogivesafuck? Stupid Cameron Bailey and his fine, starlet-interviewing manliness.

Last night Mark and I went to James Scott's (now Schoffield) going-away party; I hadn't seen that guy in ten damn years and man howdy, he looked terrific and was genuinely enthused to see the Browns again. We all made a pretty fantastic movie together back in 1993 called Näsal Warts (under the "James Brown Productions" flag), and after Helen he's the second North Torontonian to drop out of the sky in a week. No, third: I also heard from Jody yesterday. And today I got an e-mail from Renee, all the way from Japan, where she's still teaching English to people who don't speak it. Which is something I oughta be doing. Can you imagine me in Japan? It kinda fits, doesn't it?

My ten-year high school reunion is apparently happening in December... and naturally, they've "forgotten" to invite me to it. It really is just like high school.

I think that's about it. If anything changes this week, I'll let you know. But I'm not holding my breath.