toronto winters are excrutiatingly long and painful. everything becomes a mission of epic proportions. even just stepping out to the corner shop to buy a pack of fags is like an olympic level sporting event. first you thrown on about three layers of clothes, and then a parka, plus your scarf, beenie and gloves and then hype yourself up to take the first step outside your door and make like usain bolt and run as fast as you can to the store. all the while avoiding sheets of ice that's carpeted the pavement. so when lady summer comes around batting her sunshine eyelashes, the whole entire city goes mental.
by mental i mean five times more drinking than most of the year. four packs of cigarettes more each week. an extra hundred dollar spent on the weekend. too many nights you can't remember. a little bit of slutting around. bands galore. gallery openings with open bar to "look at art". and bringing a proper large picnic blanket to the park so you and your mates have something to lie on and watch the sun go up. a perfect way to end an amazing night. until a few hours later when you wake with the most horrendous hang-over of your life. so then you go back to the park and drink some more cause in your head it's much better to be drunk than to feel hung-over. but that's not how i spent my summer at all. just kidding.
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