Too wired about tonight to sleep — the costume isn't even started and I can't stop thinking about what happens after. Come tell me what you'd put on me.
Too wired about tonight to sleep — the costume isn't even started and I can't stop thinking about what happens after. Come tell me what you'd put on me.
Got into Art Toronto before the doors opened and the blazer is doing all the heavy lifting — the paintings behind me have nothing on what's in front of them. Tell me you'd still look at the art first.
Olivia has the whole arena screaming and I've been singing since the first song — somewhere around the bridge this shirt lost its argument too. Tell me which song you'd want to hear from the floor with me.
Halloween costume fitting, round three, and I keep drifting toward the dangerous option — lace, leather, and a choker that means exactly what it says. Tell me honestly: too much, or not enough?
Diwali lights take over Nathan Phillips Square this weekend and I'm layering on every piece of gold I own before heading out to watch the fireworks. Come hold my bangles while I put my earrings in?
Plini is at the Danforth tonight and I picked up my guitar to warm up for it an hour ago — I haven't made it past the second song. Somebody come drag me off this floor and into the front row.
Lantern-lit ghost walk through the Distillery starts soon and I'm still nowhere near dressed — the candles are distracting me worse than the ghosts would. Come haunt me instead?
The Cocktail Festival is running all week and apparently I decided to train at home first — the shaker's cold and this shirt is losing its argument. Come taste-test before I get overconfident and shake another.
Paris Paloma at the Danforth and I claimed the good mirror early. The dress is doing half the work tonight — tell me I got the lipstick right.
Got talked into running a stretch of the marathon route with a pack of strangers and my lungs are filing a complaint. Come catch me before the finish line does.