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Girl and Boy is toronto’s newest and soon to be best 90s party there is.
WE have brit pop, hip hop, rnb, striaght up pop, alternative pop, and everything you remember from junior high.
Come, Sept 6, to Clintons at 693 Bloor, 10 PM, 5$
Dance your body to hell and back.
If you are attending Lest Get Hot at the Rivoli, this would make a great place to go after that!
![90's[color]](http://pdf.churchofinternet.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/09/90scolor.png "90's[color]")
My companion, the time travelling impending man and my somewhat benefactor, all a slurn and divermlent in his acaborience, desmerviated his absalobulent morbrianisms, transbundulently aplex me, chestwise. And thus, our brovariance was reduced to the .2% threshold, giving us intercepticon’s quotient.
We nodded to one another, clear on what to do next.
Click to continue reading “Day 10: Celebrity Skins and Celebrex Skeins”
After waiting the handful of heartbeats 1, I processed my mental faculties toward the dais of my reason at the transcept of the cathedral of my mental mind brain. Thoughtfully i pondered my response. before me stood what I could recognize by aurolon visionscreaming was some kind of soldier. He pointed a metal Lloyd at me. Like the LLoyds of old. And his mantifarianisms were reviving ancient genetic memories in me, and some cellular memoirs. THe memories were of a vague and liquid kinship i amorphously drank with this man, and the memoirs were a lurid tale of a deception and raisins in an area referred to ironically as “not hollywood”. I employed a sequence of de-ironizers to convect the thought into sincerity. It was a place called Hollywood.
Click to continue reading “Day 9: The inner eye that sees hyper-sleds”
Today is 50 posts Wednesday, and i celebrate my 50 posts with the most delicious and perfect cake i could find.
The Sympath, an annoying form of psychic or telepath that irritatingly aknowledges the emotions of others.
THE TORONTOIST gave me a nice article in reference to the 8-bit Weezer Album i was part of. Try enjoying that.
With a bright flare of muted taupe we were drawn into the time field generated by my unnamed friend’s suit. He remarked “this is going to take a few minutes. Its not instantaneous like your lute.”
“Why?”
“Too long to explain.”
Click to continue reading “Day 7: the robots are not laughing, for they possess no emotions”