In response to this news, DriveTest, the company that the government contracted out to test drivers and hand out driver’s licenses, cancelled all test appointments for today. DriveTest feels it’s too much snow to test potential drivers.

The road conditions aren’t good enough to evaluate drivers. Is that what they’re telling me?

Can we V8 head slap these people?

YES! TEST THE DRIVERS IN THE SNOW!

Up here, it snows every year. It only makes sense to test potential drivers in the snow. They’re going to be driving in the snow next year so might as well test their snow driving skills this year.

Do you know how Finland tests potential drivers? They force everybody to take a driving test in the winter. In Finland, if you can’t pass a snow and ice driving test, then sorry Kimmi, you ain’t driving.

But not here in Ontario. We only test drivers in optimum driving conditions. If it’s too cold, too rainy or just plain too sunny, we reschedule the test.

If it’s outside then it’s just annoying. But there they were, in my bedroom.

Determined to get rid of these flying pests, I grabbed the vacuum cleaner and started sucking them all up. The flies were no match for me and my vacuum.

Once I finished collecting the flies, I noticed nearly a dozen very large bees (or bee-like creatures) on the wall. They were just hanging out there.

Vacuum already in hand, I started sucking them all up.

The last thing left there on the wall was this large blue-ish potato bug looking thing. It was huge. Must have been three to four inches in length and at least an inch wide. The vacuum grabbed it and held it but failed to suck it up. This bug was too big to fit through the vacuum nozzle.

At that point, the bug broke free of the vacuum cleaner and started to run around. I chased after it. I started hitting it with the vacuum cleaner. I broke through some of it’s outer shell, revealing it’s bright blue inside gooey parts, but it kept moving.

It was at that point I awoke in my bed relieved that any of the insects residing in my bedroom have chosen to hide themselves well so that I may not see them.

I’m sure you did. You all enjoyed a pancake or two, didn’t you?

I had a couple of pancakes. Not great pancakes. Aunt Jemima instant pancakes. Just add water. I couldn’t be bothered to make real pancakes.

So now it’s Lent. The time of the year when good people give up fun stuff.

I’m not good people. I intend to continue eating pancakes until Easter. And yes, I had a slice of cherry pie today for breakfast. Leftovers from Cherry Pie Day.

Oh, you didn’t know. Monday was Cherry Pie Day.

Being Lent, good people eat no meat, only fish, apparently. A friend of mine sent me a text last night “You ever heard of Seafood Depot?”

I don’t know fish places. I don’t eat fish. So I checked it out online. Turns out I do know the place. My dad buys fish there sometimes. I told my friend “Yeah yeah, that place. My dad goes there. Fish is probably pretty good there. My dad won’t buy crap, right?”

“Do you know where it is?” Yup, my friend has never heard of Google. I imagine Yahoo or Bing would work just as well too.

I tell my friend where the place is. Not that was any help. You see, this friend of mine gets lost pretty easily. This friend lives in Toronto. One night, we were gonna meet for drinks. I suggested meeting at Yonge and Eglinton. Everybody knows that part of Toronto. Well, not my friend. My friend does not know what lies beyond a one kilometer radius from my friend’s home. So, this one time, I met my friend for dinner. Gave my friend a road map. No more excuses for not finding places.

The place is small, only ten or so small tables. Not a lot of people can fit in the place at one time. Matters not to me. The food is good, the service is good, the value for my dollar is good. I’ve got no complaints.

I keep going back, they must be doing something right.

So last night, I dined in there.

I asked the waitress what toppings come on the Fantasy Burger. It’s advertised as a burger with bacon, cheese and pulled pork.

“We can put whatever you’d like on the burger, lettuce, tomato, relish. But honestly, it just gets in the way. I think it’s best just beef, bacon, pork and cheese.”

So that’s how I had it.

This was a good hamburger. A decent sized patty of properly cooked beef. It wasn’t to sloppy, it wasn’t dry. It was just right. The cheese was not overpowering. It was there to hold things together, that’s all. Yes it had both bacon and pulled pork, but there wasn’t a lot of bacon. The bacon was there more for crunch than anything else. And the pulled pork. No surprises there. This is some good pulled pork. And the pork had the barbecue sauce that I like on it.

It’s called the Fantasy Burger. To me, it’s just a fantastic burger.

It’s not cheap. It’s a ten dollar meal. But it’s ten dollars worth of food. It comes with some veggies on the side: coleslaw, beans and fries.

It’s not your everyday burger. That’s Wendy’s Junior Bacon Cheeseburger. (Best two dollar burger.) The Fantasy Burger is your elite burger. In a time where burgers are going either super-gourmet or super-simple, this one hits right down the middle and hits where it matters most. It tastes good.

If I have to say something negative about this burger, it’s the bun. I’ve never understood sesame seeds. I prefer a seedless bun.

In the past year or so, there’s been a ground-swell of support and adulation for Five Guys Burgers & Fries. Five Guys is one of those super-simple burgers. Just a big burger that’s supposed to be done just right. Well, for me, it wasn’t done right. And taste-wise, it was nothing to write home about. People have also told me about the Hero Burger. That’s supposed to be another great burger joint that does the super-simple burger really well. I’ve had the Hero a few times now. It’s okay, but again, it’s nothing special and nothing to warrant making the effort to pass up on Wendy’s and go there instead. Five Guys, Hero, even South Street Burger; none of them are anything above and beyond the classic Canadian burger joint, Harvey’s. Lots of burger competition out there. Lots of people swearing by their burger. Lots of people confusing me. These supposedly great burgers are not great.

Then there’s Big Bone BBQ & Wicked Wings. Not a burger joint. But they serve a few burgers. Might as well. And if you’re going to do it, do it right. There’s no big fancy claims on their burgers, just a fair-sized patty, cooked right with some cheese and some bacon. Nothing fancy about the Fantasy Burger. Just a burger done right. Then throw some pulled pork inside.

Saturday morning I went to the St. Lawrence Market. It’s a farmers market way down town. Not in the part of town called “Downtown” but it’s further down from there. It’s in what looks like the oldest part of Toronto that is still standing. Although there are new buildings around there that look like new buildings, the old buildings look like something from a Charles Dickens novel. There are these old factory and warehouse buildings that I swear I could hear the pleas of the 19th century child labourers when I look at the buildings.

As for the market, it was a farmer’s market. Lots of vegetables and fruits and fresh baked goodies. There was this one vendor there that had a glass unit containing a hanging whole pig. From where I was standing, it looked like the pig was moving, just a little bit. That creeped me out just a little bit. So I moved in for a closer look. At that point, I saw the case was open from the back and the vendor was slightly adjusted the pig’s position.

Phew. Demonic pig averted.

All I bought was a loaf of potato rosemary bread and some soft pretzels. Bread was good but nothing special. The pretzels were a bit over done.

As the weather was not too nice outside. Rain turning to wet snow and snow melting into slush and stuff like that, being outside walking around a part of town that shows little sign of upgrade since the late 19th century was not fun. Once I made it out of the St. Lawrence Market area (that’s what it’s called, not Dickensian sweatshop ville), I crossed to the westside of Toronto’s great east/west division line, Yonge Street into the financial district.

The great thing about the financial district in Toronto is that no matter the situation whether it be time of day, or day of week, you can travel from building to building completely underground. Underneath Toronto’s skyscrapers in the financial district is a shopping mall called the Path. It is a labyrinth of tiny shops and food courts existing solely underneath skyscrapers. It sustains itself by being a convenient shopping centre to the employees of the huge towers that rise up above it. The stores themselves, many of them are fast foods restaurants and almost every store is closed on the weekends. But, even though all the stores are closed, the Path itself never closes. Twenty four hours a day, three hundred sixty five days a year, the Path is a clean, temperature controlled maze underneath Toronto. If you know the way, it’s the best way to move around the neighbourhood. And because it was Saturday and everything in (and above) there was closed, it was a big ghost town. A great way to move around and stay warm and dry.

So, I used the path to cover more than half of the distance between the St. Lawrence Market and the odd place I had parked my car earlier.

And now to answer your question as to why I parked so far away from the market. I didn’t want to drive around the city all day long. I found one parking spot basically in a central location to all sorts of different things I wanted to do in the city that day. If I’m going to drive into the city, I’m only going to drive once. If I’m going to pay for parking, I’m only going to pay once.

The next thing I did on Saturday was go to the Royal Ontario Museum and see the exhibit on the Mayan civilization. That’s the current temporary exhibit.

It was dull. So I went upstairs and looked at the dinosaurs. I like the dinosaurs. Of course, this being a Canadian museum, there’s some skeletal figure of a moose in there. Sorry, mooseasaurus.

After the museum, I found a hotel bar and casually relaxed with my new friend Jim. I think some of you know him, Jim Beam. Good guy that Jim Beam.

At the bar, I planned my dinner. I’ve been wanting some southern food right. I heard about this place called Harlem Underground. Even Christielli mentioned it. That was my first idea for dinner. Just to make sure, I called ahead for reservations. All booked up. Maybe I should have called earlier than four in the afternoon the day of.

Using my handy smartphone and an app called Urbanspoon, I scanned downtown Toronto looking for a place were I could get some meat. I called a bunch of places. Everything was booked up. Everything in the area where my car was parked was booked up.

As I widened my search area, I eventually found a southern restaurant with an interesting menu. It wasn’t that Harlem Underground place, but it was probably the next best thing. The restaurant I found is called Southern Accent in Mirvish Village.

I had been there once before years ago thinking it was only a bar. I went in there with a friend for drinks. I didn’t know it was a restaurant until Miss Ash blogged about dining there a little while back.

Southern Accent is a house that’s been barely converted into a restaurant. It’s one of those houses that much of older Toronto is filled with. Houses built probably between the first and second world wars. Possibly before that. Instead of one big room with lots of tables, it’s lots of small rooms on two floors with a few tables in each room. That’s why I didn’t realize it was a restaurant the first time I went there. The bar is the first room and the doorways to the other rooms are very narrow.

Regardless, I dined there and had a wonderful meal. I had the brisket. Never had brisket before. I figured it’s beef. It’s all good. To imagine what this brisket was like, to describe it, I would call it beef-flavoured Jell-O. My knife cut up this meat with no force. Just gravity guided the blade down through the meat with no resistance. The taste itself was aided by this bourbon barbecue sauce. Oh it was good. Just thinking about it now is bringing the flavours back.

Not only was the food good at Southern Accent, they have a wonderful selection of bourbon including my fave Booker.

Well, that was my weekend. Awesome food and way too much time spent in Toronto.

Oh shit. I forgot. Sunday, for lunch I went to another barbecue place. Highway 61, the restaurant, not the actual highway is located further north in Toronto in a neighbourhood called South Bayview Village if the street signs around there can be trusted. Side note: what’s the deal with every major intersection in Toronto wanting to be it’s own neighbourhood with a name and an identity. It’s Bayview and Eglinton. Everybody in Toronto knows where that is (except that one someone who will remain unnamed). Why give it a fancy name that doesn’t really tell me anything about the neighbourhood. South Bayview Village, is there a North Bayview Village? Is it at the southernmost point of Bayview? Based on the fact that I started driving north on Bayview at Dundas which basically is the southern most point on the street then drove north for quite a while before I got to Eglinton and South Bayview Village then I drove further north into the town of Richmond Hill. Not once did I see a North Bayview Village and South Bayview Village sure wasn’t at the south end of Bayview. I’m starting to think it’s just a dumb name. And nowhere along the street did I see any view of any bay. Closest thing I saw to anything aquatic was a condo shaped like a boat.

Don’t ask me why there’s a condo shaped like a boat. It’s been confusing me for a few hours now. No good has come from thinking about it.

Okay, more about this restaurant Highway 61. It’s a southern barbecue place. I had the pulled pork. Oh, it was good. The sauce was a bit sweeter and had less tang than that Big Bone BBQ place I’ve been “living” at for the past week or so. But it was good. Just a different kind of good. The pulled pork was covered in crispy onions. The onions had a nice flavour, not an over-powering and pungent flavour. Only way to eat onion is like that. And the mashed potatoes. Just like the mashed potatoes at Baton Rouge (the restaurant, not the city) except without the bacon bits. And the cornbread had a bit of jalapeno in it, just for fun.

Now here’s my dilemma. I want to go back to Southern Accent. That food was good. I also want to go back to Highway 61. That food was good too. But I still haven’t been to Harlem Underground. Where should I go next? I can’t decide. Somebody please help me.

And if anybody is interested in hearing more about these two wonderful dining establishments I gave my patronage to this weekend, please ask. I can go on for quite some time about the food, the ambiance, the service, the general drool-inducing moments I experienced in those two restaurants. And if anybody would like to join me for dinner at either place, just tell me when, I’ll be there. Or just pop in on a whim, I’ll probably be there anyway. I’ll be the fat guy in the corner drooling and smiling.

Damn that food looked good.

I may spend some time this weekend searching for some soul food or southern food here in Toronto.

Also, I am going to the Royal Ontario Museum on Saturday. I’m going to see some art and some antiquities. Not that it’s the best stuff available to see. Let’s be frank here. It’s a museum in Toronto. It’s the watered-down Canadian version of the Museum of Natural History in New York City. Except, because it’s in Toronto, it’s got that new wing that looks like a small glass skyscraper leaning over like it’s about to fall down. It’s defenders say things like “It’s architecturally significant.” Which is just snob-speak for “I don’t get it but I don’t want anybody to know that I don’t get it so I’m just going to repeat what some fluff piece in a snob magazine wrote about it.”

Here is a picture of this new wing. It’s sort of that leaning glass building mixed with Superman’s Fortress of Solitude.

I’ve been in there before, about a year and a half ago. On the upper floors of that wing there are these catwalks that allow you to travel from one shard to another. The sound echoes and bounces around in there and does little to diminish the dizzying effects of being on a catwalk. In fact, it heightens the dizzying effects. I’m kind of surprised nobody’s fallen off the catwalk and landed on a pile of garbage that the curator was tricked into thinking it’s art. Not joking about that. Last time I was there, this new wing was exhibiting a large selection from one “artist” who took old bottle caps and various other pieces of garbage and made murals/tapestries from them. I don’t know. I guess paint is too “been there done that.”

I might go down to the St. Lawrence Market too. I’ve never been there. My understanding is that it’s a hoidy-toidy downtown farmer’s market. There’s gotta some vendor in there selling some awesome fresh bread.

In conclusion, here is what I’m going to try to do this weekend: a) find some southern food; b) try to not to complain too much about the stupid new wing at the museum; and c) travel as far away from the farms as possible to buy goods from a farmer.

And have you got planned for the weekend?

Toronto needs more highways. It needs more roads.

The entirety of the greater Toronto area needs more roads.

Driving from midtown Toronto north on the only highway that travels from midtown was not driving at all. My car did not once exceed 30 kilometers per hour until I was past the city and into a rural part of Richmond Hill.

I don’t care what it costs. I don’t care how many neighbourhoods need to razed, build more roads. It is becoming impossible for businesses to operate in Toronto because of the traffic situation.

And don’t get me started on the parking situation in Toronto.

I don’t get what all the fuss is about. Is it a good burger? Sure. Are the fries good? Yup. Is it any better than any other ten dollar burger and fries? Nope. Personally, I’ve never liked the sesame seed bun. I prefer a seedless bun. This place, no options. The cheese didn’t melt enough. The square slice of cheese was still cold on the corners.

In comparison, I could have gone to Wendy’s and got a junior bacon cheeseburger, that although would have been much smaller, is a tastier burger. And for that, I drop a twonie and get a tiny bit of change back.

Did you know that at Boston Pizza, there are items on the bar menu that aren’t on the lounge menu? Specifically the pulled pork sliders. The regular menu only has regular sliders. Which are good if you hold the sauce. The pulled pork sliders are better though. The slider is topped with fried onion bits, which although they are onion, it doesn’t over-power the flavour. Onion has a habit of doing that.

I went back to that Big Bone BBQ & Wicked Wings place. I ordered the pulled pork sandwich.

Okay, I make one heck of a mess eating food from that place. I get barbecue sauce everywhere. But don’t worry. Like any good dog, I like myself clean. The food in this place is good. It’s so good. I hope this place lasts and makes lots of money. I can tell you all one thing for sure. As long as it’s around the corner from my house, it’s gonna get a lot of my moneys.

St. Valentine is a saint (partly) because he performed marriages that the state did not allow. He performed Christian marriages. Not exactly same-sex marriages. But my point is consistent. In many places, same-sex marriages are not allowed.

So, take over St. Valentine’s Day. Have that big parade on February 14th. Make it mean something again. Well, other than what it currently means. (Here is my penis.)

But more importantly, take St. Valentine’s Day away from straight people. We don’t know what to do with it. Seriously, you been to Hallmark recently. They got these toy pigs in formal garb dancing at the push of a button. I’m sure that’s what St. Valentine had in mind when he became a martyr.

This morning, all of the newscasts felt it necessary to tell listeners to bundle up because it’s cold outside.

Canada’s education system may not be the best in the world, but it does manage to pump out people capable of finding work in any field in any market in the world. Canadians are not stupid. Canadians dress appropriately for the weather.

Canada gets a lot of immigrants. All year round, people flock from all over the world, especially places that don’t have Canadian winters, to come to Canada and start a new life. Sure, these people take time to accommodate themselves to the Canadian way-of-life but they’re not stupid. They know to put away the sandals and t-shirts when it’s cold outside.

So, if Canadians step outside, feel the cold and clothe themselves to counteract the inclement weather and the new Canadians do the same; then who is that newscast for? Is there somebody out there so stupid that they need to be told that it’s cold outside? If some such stupid person did exist: wouldn’t their brain be unable to comprehend the suggestion from the newscast, wouldn’t their brain be unable to differentiate between hot and cold temperatures felt on the body, wouldn’t they have died long ago from forgetting to eat?

Or maybe they’ve all got jobs working in newsrooms?