Only in Toronto. The other day, I was returning home from an evening of Christmas shopping (which actually went suprisingly well – people were polite, holding doors, saying thank-you… how come it can’t be Christmas all the time?) and when I stepped off my bus, I saw possibly the funniest thing I’ve ever seen. You may not know it, but we had a bit of snow in southern Ontario recently… so picture this: 6:30pm, mid-December flurries, Christmas lights, three-foot high snowbanks and a little black man in a parka, riding his scooter. Not only is it odd to see someone in the winter on a scooter, but this guy was hunched over it, as if the motor would provide him with warmth, and he was singing along to the radio, which was blasting Reggae. How did I know it was a radio? Because it was tied to the “dashboard” of his scooter. All class and only in Toronto. 
Okay… ladies, remember in my last bloggie thingie, when we discussed wearing inappropriate shoes? That goes double, no… quadruple for when it snows. Let’s just go over this again, shall we? Four-inch-heeled boots with Thinsulate lining are NOT winter boots, I don’t care how stylish you think they are. The whole point of wearing winter boots is FUNCTION, not fashion. I hate to burst your bubble but $400 piece-of-poop, stilletto-heeled boots are NOT designed for leaping slush puddles or keeping your footing on an icy sidewalk. In short, if you’re going to brave the elements in this city, at least have the sense to wear footwear that won’t get you killed as soon as you step outside. Actually, on second thought… wear your stupid shoes. Wear them to your hearts’ content. Just don’t get pissed when I step over you and your broken ankles/necks, to get to the subway. You have been warned. 
So, I went to my incredibly stylish cousin’s Christmas party on the 9th – in a house that’s been in a decorating magazine. Yep, they’re a happenin’ couple. Anyway, I was feeling a little strange about being at a party with all their beautiful, stylish and witty friends, so I sort of tried to stand in the corner, out of the way, until I was feeling a little less self-conscious. Well, wouldn’t you know it, but because it’s ME, I wasn’t even able to stand in the corner. Nope, I stepped to the side to make some room, and brushed something with my expansive ass (I thought it was a broom or something). It sort of wavered a little bit, and I thought, “Okay, it’s just going to waver for a minute, then it will stop.” Famous last words…
Of COURSE, because it’s ME, what turned out to be two plants on lovely wrought-iron plant stands didn’t just wobble for a bit, then stop. Oh, no. They wobbled a little and seemed to pick up speed until they crashed to the floor behind me, taking down two other completely innocent plants on their way. Wonderful. I was stunned. I couldn’t bring myself to turn around and look at the flora-carnage. I was too scared - I had heard some very convincing “crash!” sounds, and had convinced myself that I’d smashed the pots and their plants to smithereens, and would be evicted from the premises immediately.
It’s a good thing that it was a family party, and they’re all used to my klutziness (I wonder if they imagine the orange ‘caution’ cones around me? Or if they Megs-proof their houses when they know I’m coming over?), because otherwise, I’m pretty sure I’d have been thrown out of the picture-perfect house pretty quickly. Thankfully, my cousin Kevin was right there, and he cleaned up the mess (after having a good laugh) as I stood there, apologizing and trying to help without touching anything. The rest of the night, I sat in a chair and tried not to touch anything or breathe too hard… I still feel bad about it, even though nothing was broken and I’ve been assured that the plants enjoyed their little escape attempt.
In other news (and a desperate attempt to distract you from my idiocy)I got this link from LaineyGossip.com. and almost died reading it. If you think you’re cool, or if you just really, really need to know what constitutes “cool”, click here: Cool and the Gang and Stephen King will explain it to you, using small words. 
Just remember who wrote it. You will NEVER be as cool as Uncle Stevie. Never. But *I* might.
