Often, I think about what life would be like if I were a B to C cup — wait, I mean — grade Toronto celebrity. I would hang out in Yorkville, and people would nudge each other and say, “isn’t that that guy from that thing? You know, the one on that show or that ad or something?” And, I would fulfill a lifelong dream of being featured in Toronto Life. I’d ask the Urban Decoder questions he/she hasn’t already answered, like, what’s the deal with… oh, who am I kidding, the Urban Decoder knows all! In Toronto Life, I’d wear my snappiest duds and they’d ask me all the places I like to go and do because I’m that fucking awesome. Well…. SheDoesTheCity.com is pretty fucking rad too (there’s my big plug… which is I suppose useless, seeing as you’re already reading this) and I’m going to pretend you girls care what I do with my life. So without further ado, I present my… My Ideal Toronto (or whatever they call it. Don’t want any messy copyright issues). Basically, here’s what I’d do in an ideal day with infinite money and friends. Oh, to have infinite money. Or friends. A boy can dream, can’t he? Also, this is a world where I don’t have the epic, daylong hangovers I currently am saddled with.

11:00 – Haircut at Civello in Rosedale to pay $70 for the exact same hairstyle I’ve had since Grade 9. Manicure and pedicure to follow. Despite my fagginess, go with the no-polish, but buffed look.
1:00 – Holt’s Brunch. They’ve got a fucking meatball sandwich! Of course, it’s on bread they call “artisnal” and it costs like $25 bucks, but, it’d be fucking good. Bottle of Veuve. Or two.
2:30 – Shopping! Start at Yonge and Bloor and work west. American Apparel, H & M, Holt Renfrew, Harry Rosen, Royal de Versailles (who doesn’t need a $20,000 watch), Calvin Klein (for some underoos), TNT in Hazelton Lanes… decide that money can’t buy happiness (although my new Prada shoes really do look great) and call it a day. Send the chauffeur home to the $8MM penthouse with the packages and hit head downtown.
3:30 – Drinks on Spoke Club patio. They make a mean mojito. Ask for a double in a pint glass. That idea can’t possibly backfire!
7:00 – Drunk, but not sloppy, decide to go somewhere for a fabulous dinner. I’m thinking Blowfish. Lobster dumplings!
9:30 – Even drunker, but not yet sloppy, decide to head west in preparation for the evening ahead. Cadillac Lounge has a nice big patio.
11:00 – Go wherever has good music eminating from it… Stone’s Place, Wrongbar, Beaver… Whatever.
2:30 – Get in a cab, go home, and wake up completely refreshed around 10:00 AM for another day of being fabulous.

But, does Toronto Life take complete fiction? Because if not, I might be in trouble… My day, in reality, looks a bit more like this.

3:00 – Wake up. What happened last night? Water! I need water! Oh my god, my head is pounding… Seriously though, what the fuck did I do last night? HOLY FUCK, my Facebook is open. Did I drunk Facebook? HOLY SHITBALLS, look at how many people I phoned last night post 2:00 AM! SWEET JESUS, I texted my ex-boyfriend?
3:00 – 6:00 – Eat everything in my sight at home. In my home. In my underwear. Chug every half-drank bottle of water I can get my hands on.
6:00 – 8:00 – Field phone calls either inquiring about this evening or “what the fuck was your deal last night?”. Experience deep shame and regret. Again.
9:00 – Decide to do it again tonight?
9:00 – 2:30 – Drink as many beers as you humanly can. Don’t stop until you’re pretty sure you will barf. When that happens, move to vodka Red Bulls. Once those get gross, smoke to get a second wind. Once you tire of that, buy a Red Bull on its own. Partway through, determine you are being a “pussy” and steal someone’s drink. Chug it.
3:00 – Call and text everyone you know.

The life of a glamorous Toronto kid is one to be jealous of, no?