Blazers Not Optional / Shinan Govani's Nipple

I have a friend. No, wait. Read on. It gets better.

I have a friend, and she's a babe. Every time she and I go out, ridiculous things happen. On my birthday, we wound up at a frat party (red solo cups and tray after tray of jello shots). Another time, I got punched by a homeless woman. Last night, she took me as her +1 to some TIFF (Toronto International Film Festival)-related party, sponsored by a vodka company. The whole thing was on a parkade roof. Getting to and from the party involved a high-speed, terrifying golf cart ride. And by terrifying, I mean shrieking, holding on for dear life, and coming VERY close to wetting myself on the way up. I was anxious about the "fancy party", I had a full bladder, and sitting backwards on a racing golf cart nearly pushed me over the edge. As we took our first turn, my friend yelled, "WE DIDN'T SIGN A WAIIIIIIVER!", and all I could think of was, 'I need to fall off this thing rightfriggingnow. I need new teeth and to have my nose straightened (it got broken by a truck door in 110km/hr winds in the Arctic) and I need a reason not to work for another few months.' We screamed and yelled and a little bit of pee maybe came out, but I failed to fall off. The universe provides me a bounty of potential riches, and still, I cannot succeed. I take lemons and...promptly find an open wound to squeeze the juice into.

Anyway, we made it, and I have never seen so many blazers in my life. We caught Shad's set (more on that sometime soon), had some cocktails, and saw our respective favourite Canadian gossip journalists. This is where I admit to loving Shinan Govani. I got pretty excited about meeting him and I made him laugh and he was wearing a really great shirt and I asked if I could touch it and he said yes and then I touched it and then I realized that I'd totally just stroked his nipple. I am a total liability. I stroked Shinan Govani's nipple. Through his shirt, but still.

You can't take me anywhere.