Arianna Huffington

Sometimes brain malfunction can be humourous, like when I keep humming the same tune from Bela Fleck's "Outbound" over and over while searching for pictures of motorized penny-farthings,

Or telling everyone that I'm sorry I missed their birthdays, when I hadn't.

But often it is simply annoying. Like how, for the past 2 weeks have gone to bed and woken up every. single. day. saying "Arianna Huffington".

Friday night, two factions met for parley over pizza to discuss... well, stuff. I chose this quiet little pizza place, Junior's, that I had discovered with Slevy a few weeks ago. The pizza was great, but the atmosphere was loud. We were seated near a table of 4 girls drinking Appletinis (delicious, yes, but you would NEVER catch me ordering one in public) and SHREIKING. It served to unite us in hatred at least.

After dinner (pesto, tomato and roasted red pepper pizza and Fish and chips. Yum.) I begged a stop at the Struck for a wee nightcap, because it's a nice little restaurant with a quiet bar. Except on Friday when they have live music. I choked down a martini while trying to block out the absolute worst version of Del McCoury's "1952 Vincent Black Lightening". A word for bar and restaurant owners, live music is not necessarily a good idea. Especially in an intimate environment.

Even bolting down my drink in record time, I couldn't seem to drink enough to drown out the cacophony so we adjourned to the quietude and free whiskey of the Voodoo Lounge.