...beyond the fringe...

Dishes like The Bloor Street Diner's "grilled chicken breast on rosemary focaccia" are meant to make you realise that you will never belong.

Inevitably, it will be the pommes allumees that will fail you. Seeking grace and elegance in your actions, you will invariably try and eat them with a fork. More precarious than little green peas, they will roll, deflect, and topple off your utensils. Looking around you warily, you notice the other charming young ladies in your vicinity picking them up carefully with their fingers, putting them in their mouths, and demurely brushing their hands on the napkins folded on their laps. You take note. And try again. Hoping no one is the wiser.

Word to the wise: Avoid the coffee, much too strong. And if there's anything those Yorkville Blondes need is more excitability. I work in the Manulife Centre, trust me I know.

Tonight's needed studying will be foregone in favour of Matt Mays at the Horseshoe. Any wishing to accompany us, jump on board and merrily!