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 Finding Luv in Kensington Market
Stop the presses! Hold everything! I am
in luv.
SplattD has been bitten by the luv bug again. This time its
for real. I know 'cause I am getting that silly "Lets do this
lets do that" feeling. It's been a while since I have had that
feeling. Not since the Queen. Well, back then it was different,
because I had the tools and could do the job. But things have
changed and now luv is more cerebral and a helluva lot less physical.
Aunt Ethel sneaked me and Jean-Luc into another one of her favourite
pubs, Graffiti's
Bar & Grill on Baldwin Street down in Kensington Market.
I went there with her the last time we were in Toronto. Nice cozy
place. Marion liked it, she is sorta sweet on Sam the owner. Nice
looking two-legger, into Elvis. Ya know outside of Memphis and
Vegas there is no place that idolises the King like Toronto.
Sam causes Marion go all googly eyed. Graffiti's is one of the
few places where Marion, who is usually a slacks and shirt person,
actually wears her short skirt, maybe its because the bar stools
at Grafitti's are rather tall and Sam has roving eyes.
Aunt Ethel, on the other hand, digs the Sunday afternoon jazz
session and Smilin' Big Bob T. Well it was at one of these jazz
jams that my heart went into fast pitter patters. Dougie R was
wailing on the sax, Ol'Man Skinner was tickling the ivories and
the place was slamming. Then in they walked, heads held high,
noses in the air, completely ignoring anyone that dared to look
in their direction.
Jean-Luc, his eyes bulging, leaned over to me and whispered. "Hey,
New York, check it out, are they voguing or what? Man, they so
hot they might just set the sprinklers off". I was speechless.
I tried to say something cute as a come back to top his comment,
but all that came out was "Aba, Aba." Jean-Luc looked over and
said, "Man, don't go retro seventies on me now, these two Glamma
Mammas sure a lot prettier than the blondes in that group."
Sam perked up when the ladies reached the bar. He slicked his
hair back with his hands and gave that smile that he uses to melt
hearts, then he said to the taller of the two. "What can ah getcha?"
You could almost hear him say Foxy Mamma at the end of his question.
In a sort of purr she answered, "Something cold and biting."
"One cold beer coming right up and a note from my orthodontist."
Sam quipped. Everyone within earshot smiled except Marion and
Big Bob T. Marion frowned and Big Bob T swallowed his sip of single
malt scotch and then laughed out loud. It was a new Sam line for
Big Bob T, up until now he thought that he had heard them all.
"So what's your name?" Sam asked.
She fluttered her eyelashes and purred, "I am Chantal and my friend
is Lady B." While Chantal flirted with Sam, much to Marion's chagrin,
Jean-Luc and I worked on Lady B. with two different approaches.
He tried to be Hip, which he aint, and me, I did my best aristocratic
impression, pulling out all of the stops that I had learnt when
me and the Queen lived together. Because Lady B was all of that.
What Mr. Montreal Chihuahua didn't dig is, to effectively work
the pub scene in Toronto, you can't be Hip, because people don't
do Hip in beer pubs, they do Hockey and Hops couture, especially
during Hockey season. The women and men alike, dress for a night
out in blue and white, nylon Maple Leafs hockey sweaters and caps
emblazoned with the logo of their favourite brew. So if you want
to start a conversation you say "How about them Leafs? Or Have
you tried the lager to that ale?" and if you know a couple of
names of the Maple Leafs Hockey team's players, you'll be saying
Good Morning instead of hearing gimme a call sometime.
Lady B not only knew Hockey, she had the four-one-one on lots
of other things. Born in Yugoslavia, this fine looking, petite,
Black, dreadlocked, young lady was a walking encyclopaedia. She
laid an education on me. She taught me that one Acetaminophen
tablet could kill a cat but yet one baby Aspirin won't. That real
ferns are OK to nibble on , but cats should stay away from chrysanthemums
and most of the Philodendrons, and especially something called
dumb-cane which can kill a cat in a couple minutes. Why, she even
told me that most clumping litter could cause a whole heap of
problems if you ingest too much of it, because it could solidify
or, worse yet, become like a sponge in our stomachs, and since
most of us usually lick it off our paws, that is frightening.
But now that I have met the woman of my dreams I have a couple
of nagging concerns. Sooner or later Marion has to get back to
New York to some silly thing called a job and alas, Lady B is
a Puli dog. A really rare and exotic canine. I know what ya thinking,
me, SplattD falling head over heels for a dog. Hey folks it happens
more often than you think. Sam, my man, Good Luck with your two-legger,
Chantal.
I am outa here. Bow Wow, Arf Arf.
See ya next month.
Splatt Deekatt
Email me
You can visit Graffiti's
Bar & Grill on the web
or in person at
170 Baldwin St. Toronto,XX M5T 1L8
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