Well sweet zombie Jesus, have I ever been lollygagging with my blog posts. In between making soup and baking muffins, I’ve noticed that a fair bit of snow seems to have collected on the ground. Allow me to be the eleven-teenth person to point out that yes, winter has arrived, and in rather commanding fashion.
And now, a segue: some quick facts about Seasonal Affective Disorder (or S.A.D, perhaps the most apt acronym of all time), which you’re bound to think you have at some point in the next 5 months:
Conclusion: Move to Florida, stare at lightbulbs, and never trust a man named Norman.
Back to my earlier and highly deliberate mention of food: I recently found a cookbook in my cupboard which was, in a nutshell, thematically inclined toward the concept of cooking for the seasons. While I’m all for Smoked venison Carpaccio with rocket, chicory, sweet apple vinegar and shaved Swedish Västerbotten cheese, it’s a bit over my head – not to mention means.
Luckily for me, there are people like Christie Peters and Kyle Michael, who will shortly be opening the doors on The Hollows, a restaurant and catering company with an unwavering commitment to locally-sourced and sustainably-raised ingredients that will leave you feeling as though you’re doing the world a favour with every successive bite. Think local fish, wild mushrooms, flowers, root vegetables, house-made charcuterie and preserves, and plenty of other nibblets rarely encountered outside of the confines of a particularly ambitious hardcover cookbook. Christie also makes a mean cocktail (having placed 3rd at the Iron Bar mixology competition) so you’ll be in good hands if and when you decide to forego the fourth course in favour of a Moloko Plus.
Google that shit and realize that you have a new favourite restaurant.
We find ourselves in weather purgatory at the moment - stuck somewhere between the sinful conception of winter and the afterbirth of summer. It's a funny old time of year, perhaps the only time when it's both sartorially and functionally acceptable to wear khaki shorts and a down overcoat. But on the bright side, if all goes as expected (i.e. if the natural progression of the seasons carries on*), the coming weeks will bring us the first snowfall of winter, and with that, the first snowball fights, sips of cocoa, and otherwise wholesome sub-zero affairs.
But for now, allow me to recap the top five goings-on of the week that was:
1. Betty Driver's funeral was held in Manchester (11 points to Gryffindor to anyone who actually recognizes the name). Ol' Betty was one of the most beloved characters of the only soap-opera worth watching, Coronation Street, having appeared in somewhere in the neighbourhood of 2,800 episodes. Aspiring actors take note: it takes more than 42 years of commitment in order to crack my top five weekend moments.
2. Brandon Kazakoff broke his finger for Thread's camera crew. In quite possibly the least pitiable execution of poor judgment ever, my good pal Brandon decided to attempt a gainer (that's a backflip performed from a standstill) while at Scratch. It didn't go as planned. Now his finger is broken. Bravo! Stay tuned for a possible inclusion of the footage in Manny and Nate's upcoming installment of Babewatch.
3. Campus Hell Week concluded. It would seem that the week of October 17th-21st is the one time in the university calendar when all professors from all disciplines can lay down their competing tenureships and gavels and agree to assign a minimum of one paper, article summary, lab report or crossword. Bastards.
4. To no-one's great surprise, New Zealand won the Rugby World Cup. While that might not seem to be of particular local importance, Saskatoon's own Nanyak Dala and Hubert Buydens represented Canada at this year's World Cup, and that's pretty sweet. Also worth noting: the aforementioned Buyden's beard. Google it.
5. A surreal 20 minute late-night stroll with Geoff Warrington, aka The Man of Many Monikers, which included being followed by a fox, being offered a sandwich by a homeless man (politely declined), and witnessing a police chase resulting in a gang member being drawn from an SUV at gunpoint on the Broadway Bridge.
*High probability of this happening, considering that on Friday we all survived the Apocalypse, again: http://www.theatlantic.com/national/archive/2011/10/apocalypse-now-apocalypse-then/247104/.
While Sunday might be God’s day off, we heathens of the blogosphere are poised and ready to start the week off right. And as yesterday was Saturday, chances are good that at some point today, you’ll need to sit down, take an advil, drink a tall glass of cold water, and gather your thoughts/dignity/memories of the previous evening. But why worry about the past when you can worry about the future?
Specifically, worry about what you’ll be doing tomorrow, Monday October 17th.
I suggest taking a stroll to Tusq, where you can purchase a ticket for The Duo Finale which will be taking place just down the street at the Sheraton Cavalier from 7:30 pm to 10pm (alternatively, you could save yourself two dollars/a small coffee by ordering through www.picatic.com). To the uninformed, uninitiated or otherwise too-busy-to-care, The Duo is like the love child between a coffee house jam session and a classier, peppier American Idol. Audience votes account for 50% of the overall score each artist-duo receives for their performance, so if you have a particularly large entourage and are strapped for cash, time is running out to blackmail the competitors into splitting their earnings. Furthermore, there will be an afterparty with free food and drinks for family and friends, so a quick friend request, ambiguously worded personal message or nude photo of yourself to one or more of the artists should suffice in gaining you access to endless calamari and B-52’s.
And if that doesn’t tickle your fancy, check out the Coachman, Saskatoon’s best-kept-secret/booziest nursing home for $3.25 highballs! Even better, pocket that $3.25 and mozy on down with your Rascal Scooter to one of Saskatoon’s many tattoo shops to get impulse-inked. Nothing says Weekend Warrior like a permanent, sub-cutaneous marking above your nipples which reads “Weekend Warrior”. Seriously, nothing.
Nondescript Knowledge is the brainchild of Tomas Borsa, whose dazzling cerebral output capacity and legendary inability to resist peer pressure make him the perfect candidate to oversee a blog concerning Saskatoon’s social gallivanting. His interests include crocheted cat sweaters, feigning distaste for whatever isn’t cool at the moment and overbooking his social calendar.
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