Another night in the fives: a girl falling down the stairs leaving a surprisingly vigorous trail of blood behind, two separate intrusions by the police to remove individuals from the stands, a recalcitrant Sox fan who somehow didn't seem as mouthy after the Jays pulled ahead in the fourth on a walked-in run by disintegrating Boston pitcher Matsuzaka, one kid who somehow managed to convince the entire crowd to throw bottles at him, a pack of guys beer-funnelling using one of those blue trumpets, and a girl who flashed the crowd with her A-grade tits not once, but twice. And all of this nicely coinciding with the fifth-to-eighth-inning lull that would otherwise have reduced last night's Jays victory over Boston into an exercise in tedium. I'm telling ya, nothing better than the bleeders on a two-dollar night. It was a pretty damn solid night's entertainment.

So basically my life is overrun right now. If you're one of the thirty people I owe an e-mail back to, I apologize. I'm about three days behind on everything except top priority messages, and looking to lose more time in the days ahead rather than making time up.

I realized last night that the thing that's keeping me from moving to Vancouver is Burrito Boyz. I was gobbling down an 8-inch tube of meat and I said to myself, this is the actual specific reason I am staying in Toronto. That, and the Snailers. I am heartily addicted to the Silver Staff. I mean I'm sure I'd miss my friends and all, but something about getting a bag-tag and going into the back to shit about X-Men gets me all.... nipply.

It's BKV's first episode of Lost tonight, so I must off.