One of most interesting developments in the Human condition occurred in the small-backwater-town of Enfield, England, just 16.3km from Charing Cross, 18.8km from the London Stone and in case you are an abradant cockney, 18.9km from St. Mary-le-Bow, you dandy city-folk.

In 1810, at age 40, philosopher but mostly part-time cat farmer Meil Sans Bishopsgate had, after living a tremendously menial life come to the realization of his sad menial life and decided to do something about it. Being far too poor to purchase bullets or rope, he decided to make the best of it.

He immersed himself in philosophical study for two years at the Clarke's School in Enfiled, with the set intention of improving the quality of his being or at the very least be able to then afford a bullet or two - the second, in case he missed.

Sans Bishopsgate almost quit his studies mid-way due to the elements and the never ending stream of insults coming from the children who attended the school -although in all fairness, from time to time, the teachers joined in too.

His muse, per-se, was a young and brash tuberculosis ridden boy who beat Bishopsgate to a pulp outside the local pub after a fight broke over the iconic importance of the King James Bible, England's level of abject poverty and Meil having a stupid name. In his memoirs, published for his mother in 1815, Sans Bishopsgate describes the incident in detail and joyfully recalls, 'Damn Keats' boy. Hope he dies soon.'

After finishing his two years of standing outside the window where the philosophy class was taught, a full year of what he called 'staring up at the sky' followed with him to the conclusion that he was perfectly happy in his life. Meil wrote, "Even though, I have yet to taste the pleasures of the flesh, one must wonder, what does the body of a man truly encapsule? His Spirit? His gravitas? Does a man's worth be set upon his receding hair line? Would the tender touch of a woman, nay, the spectacle of her bosom and weaving flocks heaving through the wind from a galloping horse bring peace to an aging man? Am I able to achieve these sights with my bare hands and sheer will?' Sadly, Meil's body was found at his mother's cottage the next morning. Who knew? Sliding off the stairs head first had accomplished what self-illusion and the two bullets encrusted on the wall had not.

In the end, Meil Sans Brishopsgate peeked into the human psyche seventy-three years before Freud and coining the term "Mid-life Crisis" in the last page of his journal. Now, used by men loosing their hair and in desperate attempt of transcendental gratification. For this, he will always be remembered. By the way, that Keats boy ended up becoming one of England's best poets. Go figure.

Last Friday, February 29th a milestone was crossed: My group's 100th event came to pass! As some of you know I run two social groups, one for people between 23 and 35, while the other focuses in people between 25 and 40. Yes, they do overlap, and they are both social and quite the pleasure to organize, and no, they are not dating groups. Both are quite interesting however, as the dynamic can be rather different at times. The "younger" group as I call it, the To23-35 Social Club tends to be more party and dancing oriented, while the "older" one has a more dinner & lounge vibe to it.

So which group was it that turn 100 events old? Why the TO23-35 Social Club! I had been thinking about this event and it importance of it for a while. Few groups in meetup.com have reached this far and can proudly say our group is one of the largest (11th in Toronto out of hundreds) and one of the the best rated by its members. So at first, I thought of doing some Biblical, End-of-Days-carnival-of-the-senses affair but... in the end I opted to do something a little more low-key.

You see, I have never been the clubber type. Sure, I love to dance, but I dislike the whole line-up, cover, coat check, meat-market vibe and at times ridiculous prices for a bottle of beer. I am looking at you, sub-posh-wannabe Club V in Yorkille, charging a blasphemous $8 for a miserable 341ml bottle of Stella! Let's see how long you last with such ridiculousness!

Although quite often we end up at a club as the girls in the group just love to dance, so we usually start off at a lounge only to end up at a club dancing the night away --or until they kick us out, whichever comes first. So, if we do end up going to a club the rare, odd time, I don't mind it.

Anyway, back to the 100th event, I decide on The Rivoli, a quaint hot spot on Queen Street West. Known for its concerts in its back stage, its eclectic restaurant and pool hall on the second floor. Oh, and they have a small spartan lounge bar area which they try to sell as the 'Sky Bar.' Pressumably because aside a few chairs the place has nothing in it but air. Silly marketing.

The event itself was great! The vibe was great! The weather was downright miserable and as such only about 66 people showed up. However, as you know, it is the company that makes all the difference. And it did. So many new faces that it got hard to remember everyone's name.

It was great to see so many people having socializing and having fun. Playing some serious pool and I am sure, some flirting. What can you do? Can't stop it, right? In fact, quite a few people over the years have hooked up thanks to the group. That has to be worth a sizable chunk of good karma, I am sure of it. No reincarnating as an earthworm for me!

At the end of the night, when everyone was gone and there were only a few of us left. Yes, we practically closed the place --again-- I have to say that it has all been quite worth it. Have met some interesting people and even got a few great friends out of the enterprise. You know, you aught to come out too, see what all the fuzz is about. You never know!

In our western society, few are the times for greater reflection than on, and around New Year's. A time to look back at a set of time and space and ponder on the deeds and non-deeds that have carried us to this point in our lives. A time only followed by one's birthday and the death of a loved one in the totem pole order of reflectiveness. Surely many secular-types would like to add Lent, Christmas and Ramadan to name a few, but from an general perspective, New Year's still has a certain Je ne sais quoi, which can inspire or still be abhorred by all people equally. As I have always said, 'people do not take enough time to know themselves.' It is most unfortunate as this is one of the most important lessons a human being can learn. Alas, this is generally not the case. In fact, people will pay others to half-ass do it for them. Hence the number of inspirational Jesters out there who, for a fee, will surgar coat wonderful promises of 'how you too, can be happy with money/love/sex/or all three!' ...It is quite the multi-million dollar industry. While omitting the fact they themselves would be as poor as dirt had you not paid them to tell you how you too, can be like them. Which ironically, it would have to be by you charging other people and tell them how they too, can be happy with money/love/sex/or all three. Creating some evil infinite loop where someone just has to be miserable for the whole industry to exist. So I sit here, babysitting the flu and wondering about my last year on earth. Nothing better than spending it alone and sick as an old chapter approaches to a close. As you can imagine, it had both its highs and lows. Ultimately --for us who do it-- that is, put your life on a proverbial balance from time to time, the hope is for said balance to lean over onto the highs rather than he lows. But this year, sadly, it has been a little too even. Losing a very loved one, changing jobs, faced some life-long illnesses. Well, I could just take it in for what it is and call it George, right? But I can't do that! For it has been a year of some really good accomplishments. As they say, 'the longer the fall, the more alive you will feel looking back down at the abyss when you climb out.' And although I am not totally out... no point in lying, right? I can see the top closer than ever before. Teasing me to move forth. It will be sad to let go of a few things --someone in particular-- but that's how life is. The view is going to be breathtaking. So, I sit here, waiting for the flu to get the hell out of my body and for my immune system to really get cracking. I mean, what else do I pay it for? I hope all of you are in good health and have some interesting plans for the weekend; And subsequently, take the time to find out where and who you are. Only then you will know where you are going! Cheers.

I found Meetup.com quite by chance. Now for those who do not know, Meetup.com is a Web 2.0 social website in which like Facebook for example, members can find like-minded individuals, but unlike Facebook, then meet in the real world and, well, do whatever those interests are on an ongoing basis. You see, I was looking for a language group as I was forgetting my Spanish faster you could say 'Dos cervesas y tacos por favor.' So what better way to practice then to speak the language with other native speakers? Maybe even make some friends to boot.

Anyway, so I decided to bite the bullet and joined the Toronto Spanish Speaking Group. Overall it was good, however Richard the organizer left a lot to be desired. Like not showing up to any of his own meetups for example. In fact he never showed up to any outings and after a few attended events I relented to the possibility he was likely imaginary or the work of someone's fiction. Specially, as I would later find out, if an organizer does not select a time or location, Meetup.com will automatically pick both for you. That's what I call full service. But you would have to be abnormally dense not to get bored going to the same Starbucks again and again month in and month out. So I became a bit disillusioned.

Eventually curiosity got the best of me as the thought of organizing a group myself kept on marinating in my head. So without much dramatic ado I jumped right into organizing the TO23-35 Social Group.

Just like all group we started small. However we pretty soon exploded... 100 members, 200 members... then *boom* past 300! As of this writing membership is 667 and counting. Not bad, not bad. Then within the year a second group followed, the TO25-40 Social Group. Yes, the names are pretty almost carbon copies, but the demographic is on average older. How many members on that one? 461! And counting... As you can imagine lots of outings and funny adventures occurred within the group, a highlight would be the couple who not only met but ended up married after meeting in one of my groups. Now that has to make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

How do I choose events? Well, a few tequila shots help... no wait...that's not it. Basically I pick locations through experience. Having been a party kid in Toronto in my younger years helps. I keep track of the never-ending stream of event s going on in the city at any given moment. We have gone patios, lounges, nature walks, indoor rock climbing, roller-blading, museums, movies, wine tastings, dinners, brunches, you name it. Pretty much anything that sounds like a great time to be had by all. That's the easy part. The hard part is the colourful mating dance I must enlist myself to do with managers of establishments I want to do business with. As locales will not reserve busy nights unless you pay a ridiculous premium in advance or with your first born or a pint of blood from your mother. Selling off a next of kin may also do the trick. They are that anal. Sadly, I can see their point since they do not want to do have empty spaces on a busy night, but that is not the best way to woo future repeat customers. Although so far we have done pretty well. Over 105 events so far!

But all in all, it has been quite the adventure, and an excellent opportunity to meet and see the people and the city of Toronto. I would highly recommend it.

Friends always tell me I tend to meet strange people everywhere I go. My defence usually goes along the lines of “Hey, I am friendly; people tend to end opening up, that's not my fault! Sometimes they tell me stories they would not tell anyone else and... well, we all have quirks. So when I tell you about them, it sounds like an above average number of people who are like that. However, I am sure we all have them, both friends and stories although we just don’t tend to share the latter." Or something like that. Really.

Take a few nights ago for example. I was at a bar and a girl was trying to unbutton my shirt. Sure, it doesn’t happen often, and yes, it is a great boost to one’s ego but all this was happening right at the bar and for the amusement of all onlookers. I felt the need to say something. Like asking for her name but as a gentleman, I felt I would be intruding onto her dedication and defer fervent concentration from her craft, and trust me, it was taking her quite bit of concentration. 'Vodka shots unwieldy fingers make,' that is what I constantly warn my readers.

Anyway, so after she tried to kiss me a few times --by the way, the locale in question is a rip off, a glass of table wine for $12??-- Anyway, I asked to go for a cigarette to relax. Once outside, this woman turned into the perfect example why I would never date someone I meet at a club. Not only she almost got into fight with a random girl whose boyfriend was right there. Which meant that me, as the defacto guy in tow, almost got sucked into a fight I had no part of. But wait there is more! After I managed to talk everyone out of a lot of scratching, hair pulling and punching, she then decided to curl up into a corner and become an emotional wreck. We are not talking fender bender either, more like two monorails going 215 km\h and crashing into each other kinda of catastrophe. With wheels and metal shreds exploding and decapitating flying birds and small herbivores everywhere.

All of the sudden she hated her job, her age, her life and just for kicks, me. To be honest, I was just standing there lighting a cigarette a few feet way. I knew we were just outside the lounge but I felt bad leaving her like that sobbing her problems away. Eventually her guy friend came out and asked me what as wrong with her.


She then glimpsed at us, squinted and called us losers. Her friend then moved closer and asked her what has wrong? She replied by slapping his smoke off his hand. Then both stared at the lighted cigarette now on the ground. ‘That’s bad for you!’ she argued. He then came back to my side, rolled his eyes and said he was going back inside for another drink. The now obviously drunk girl (NoOdGi) left the safety of her corner and stumbled to a fountain about 75 feet away. I followed. After repeating her ‘I hate my job, age and life’ mantra she decided to throw her purse, along with all its neat contents into said fountain. Then sat on the floor and cried some more. Wow.

Out of human pity --as at this point it could not possibly be for any other reason-- I looked into the fountain but the purse which was glittery white, blended with the incandescent yellow lights of he fountain just perfectly. Adding to this, the the fact it was night time, made the purse and the make up and cell phone invisible.

A few minutes later, her friend came out and after catching on to what had happened, took off his shirt and began looking for the damn purse in the fountain. Looking and searching, working his way more by touch than by sight. Pictures of Pirates of the Caribbean came to mind. He couldn’t find it and Noodgi was getting pissed off. I could not help smirking at the sheer spectacle. At that moment Noodgi caught me and began insulting me. But can anyone take the insults of a drunken woman who threw her own purse, along with her car keys into a fountain seriously?

Her friend couldn’t find the purse and he was getting pissed off. Why? Because he was going to get a ride from her --something I DID learn is that both of them lived in Mississauga-- mostly thanks to his rantings of disbelief.

It dawned on me that maybe just maybe, she may have overshot the fountain even though from my point of view it seemed like it had gone in. I decided to take a look a few feet further away where some patio chairs were located. As I went behind one of the chairs, lo and behold, guess what I found. A small white albeit now very dirty purse. I took it back to Noodgi, hanging off my index finger.


She then gave me a hug, said she loved me and began fidgeting with its contents. I asked the guy if they were okay to make it home, as there was no way she could drive. He said yes, he would probably wait it out until she sobered up. Noodgi then asked if I wanted another vodka shot. I said I would light another cigarette first.

As they went inside, I remembered my tab was paid and all of my actual friends had gone home. As I finished my cigarette, I checked the time, found my bearings, found Yonge and King and walked for my life.

St. Patrick, the patron of drunks everywhere is coming to Toronto. Starting today, the festivities created to test the resilience of the human liver and kidneys began with a loud cheer followed by countless of gallons of green beer being poured throughout the city. You go liver! Break down that bitchin' alcohol!
Our dear Saint Patrick is one of the Catholic Church's most misunderstood Saints. Perhaps only second to Jesus and Saint Valentine. Don't you think that if he had known that because of him millions of people would push the limits of their kidneys year in and year out that he might, I don't know, promoted a healthy eating habit as well?

You know, to balance things out?

...Or whatever happened to Brigid of Kildare and Columba? The other TWO patrons or Ireland? Have you guys even heard of them? They are probably the ones that advocated healthy eating.
So, to celebrate I will be having a small get together as part of my social group at Hemingway's in Yorkville. What a better place to toast a drinking holiday than in a bar named after one the 20th century's most celebrated lushes? And a decent writer to boot.

Here is the link to the outing.

While sitting at a small two-seat table at Kalendar –a charming café on the outer east limit of little Italy—a friend of mine asked me a very interesting question regarding relationships. ‘Mauricio,’ she said after placing her glass of cold Summer enhanced Chardonnay back on the table. ‘Has anyone ever told you are handsome?’ Without hesitation, I said, ‘Why, yes.’ No way I could have hid the glee in my response even if I had tried. ‘No, I meant, as a pick up line.’ I looked down for a moment, ‘Well, you weren’t being specific. In that case, no; at least not by anyone who wasn’t drunk.’ Suddenly I didn’t feel so hot anymore. ‘I see,’ she smiled. Kalendar is one of those charming jazzy places, a perfect first date location: non committal or threatening but with enough décor, a menu and a sense of cosiness which elevates it a few notches above run-of-the-mill places like Just Desserts or other non-descript cafes littering The Danforth. You just got to love that turn-of-the century Victorian feel that oozes a heft that it is neither uninviting or pretentious. ‘What brought this question forth?’ I wondered. As these are not inquiries I come to expect from platonic friends. ‘Well, this is what happened…’ She took a second long gulp and simply said that she was utterly tired of the dating scene. She went through the whole ‘been there, done that.’ You see, Kamela my friend was annoyed not so much at the meat markets that have existed since one gender discovered that it could –without a second thought and with much gusto —sexually objectify the other. What bothered her what that after so many dates in her lifetime, the whole dating scene, particularly in its infant stages felt like a string of glorified job interviews: A don’t call us, well call you if you make the cut ideology where Tom, Steve or John were given a set of questions and depending on their (honest; preconceived; or outright Machiavellian) answers would secure at the very least a second date. With the expectation of some sort of sexual gratification from both parties, of course. But it was now all too routine – even worse— it had the feeling of a job. ‘Isn’t this stuff supposed to be fun with the flirting, and the laughing and the twinkle in the eye?’ ‘Called me a romantic,’ I said, ‘but shouldn’t this sort of thing happen more, uh, naturally? I do not think that two people should have to stop conversation flow and open the floor for some generally boring 'what is your favourite food?' exposition to occur. That stuff never works, otherwise it starts sounding like a bad Steven Segal movie and look where the guy is now? No one gives a shit. ‘Suggestions?’ ‘I would suggest doing the proverbial library, art gallery thing thing. You know finding places where by the mere fact that you are both there automatically speaks –without the need of words if I may add— a lot about each other even when no words have been exchanged.' 'Sure, this is where sometimes friend hook-ups come in, since they may end up doing the main legwork for you. But since I like to take my fate in my own hands I would rather say: Join a social group, a bowling league, an environmental group, anything to get you out other and finding someone which whom you already are bound to have a number of things in common. Like pets? then do some Humane Society volunteering.' 'Take me for example, I found one of the loves of my life while taking an English course at U of T. Why? Because I am a geek and I love to read. Chances were that at the very least one cute, well-read and above all intelligent woman would have taken the same class as me. Sure it was a long shot, but no different than going to any martini lounge on a Friday night and I got to read a few good books along the way.' Kamela took another sip from her glass and gave me a 'You are so full of shit, you are making it sound too perfect to be true.' 'To be quite honest,' I said to balance things out, 'I remember the pickings to be quite putrid but you know what? I did get lucky and I found someone and even though we went through the: What is your favourite food? And; Which is your favourite movie of all time status quo set of question. I can tell you that it all felt so natural that the job interview motif never entered my head, not even once. I was simply just too happy to know more about this person then feeling that I HAD to ask this questions in order to avoid dating a psychopath.' ‘I am not saying that finding a mate is simple, Kamela.’ I said as I finished my wine. I just think we put too much emphasis on loneliness (or maybe we just get too horny, who knows?) But ultimately, if you are happy without a partner, then who am I to tell you are wrong? ‘Suggestions?’ She demanded again. ‘You want the straight to the point variety?’ ‘Hell, yeah.’ ‘Do something you would do for free. Nothing stupid, just something that has picked your curiosity and join a group. There are tons of groups like that in Toronto. If you like going for dinner because you love tasting different foods abd drink, then there are tons of groups like that out there. Fencing? I am sure there is something out there. Sailing? I have tried that. Skydiving? Hey, you only live once, particularly if the chute doesn't open.' I once joined an Egyptology course at the Royal Ontario Museum because I like Egyptology and its history. Just don’t use the "I do not like going places by myself," excuse since remember, loneliness is biased towards the shy and the ugly… and even the most unattractive people can overcome some of that with the right attitude. So if you are deathly shy, then you are in for a rough and lonely ride. Unless you don’t mind being alone. It sounds cliche, but it is always our own selves who seem to keep deterring us from being truly happy. Kamela is a very attractive lady. I am sure she will find someone. I know it, I just who it. Maybe if she wasn't so pragmatic. Good luck Hon. If you would like to find more info on Kalendar AND their menu click here. Cheers!

Naperville – Phillips R. Sacks, a veteran greeter at the local Wal-Mart would like to let Mary Reighton know he is still waiting at Kit-Kat Tsunami, a trendy downtown pool lounge and tobacco shop to begin their first date. ‘Sure, she didn’t seem interested at first, but things change. I remember there was a time last week when she wouldn’t even talk to me. Persistence pays off.’ The date began last Friday night when he arrived at Kit-Kat at around 8:00pm. Mr. Sacks spent the first three hours playing pool, then had a few beers and since then has sustained himself on a mixture of free peanuts, water and lots speciality coffee. ‘Women are always late so I don’t think much of it.’ Andrew Beers added his establishment being open 24/7 is what has kept him from removing Mr. Sacks from the premises. We normally have a $5 per person seating policy and he has been spending $5.25 every hour he’s been here. I want the good folk of Naperville to know Kit-Kat stands by its policies. Even if he starting to reek. So if you want to have a good time Kit-Kat is the place to be. Remember we do parties, weddings and catered events; look us up in the yellow pages. Our prices ar—’ When reminded the article was about Mr. Sacks endeavour, he added ‘Yeah, what a chump. He hasn't moved off that sofa and the wait staff are beginning to complain. If he stays for another day, the stench is going to get pretty bad. The moment he runs dry, he is out of here.’ Mr. Sacks met Miss Reighton at his job where she was a customer. ‘It was attraction at first sight. Mind you she gave me quite the chase. I almost lost her twice, around the toy aisle and when she hid in the women’s change room. She was sneaky, she thought I would not dare but that is how you impress a girl.’ Mrs. Reighton was contacted but we were unable to reach her for comment.

True Valentine Horror Stories: Now that Hallmark’s holiday has come and gone is time to call it what it is: To put it nicely –as this is quality, respectful publication— Valentine’s Day is far too glamorized. Not everything is roses and chocolates out there. Sometimes it’s a war zone where your heart is no man’s land. Don’t believe it? Then you are deluded and probably on some cheap meds. As such, if you are lucky to have survived with your ego intact then maybe you won’t get suckered into Valentine’s next year. Still don’t believe? Then here are the experiences of some poor celebrity souls who are scarred for life: Mark Hamill: ‘I finally worked the nerve to ask this lady I had been eyeing since ’96. The date was going great, until I couldn’t help to murmur to myself: ‘The force is strong with you tonight, Luke…’ Suddenly, she twitched in horror and said, ‘Oh, you are THAT guy.’ She then excused herself to the ladies room never to be heard from again. I should really stop reliving the past.’ Tom Cruise: ‘Scientology does not have room for trivial beliefs like Valentine’s day. But if I did then I would make sweaty and disgusting sexual acts with Carlos, I mean Kate. Kate, you know Kate, my wife? The one carrying the son I made with my own sperm?’ Paul Martin: ‘I lost my cushy ass job; my gerbil and Melinda turned NDP and Harper is now wearing my old jammies. How would you feel?’ Paris Hilton: ‘I like told my boyfriend of the week we could get a room and make a sex tape. He got upset. I don’t get it.’ Eddie Murphy: ‘Actually, I am happily married, but my agent can’t get me any auditions so I had to settle for you people. I am starving here. How come no one told me I can’t sing for shit?’ Britney Spears: ’I asked Kevin to surprise me on Valentine’s Day. He got up really early for like once, then went out and got a job at a Jack in the Box but got fired the same day for slacking. I wasn’t surprised, but somehow I got knocked up, again.’ Bill Gates: “I was wondering when you would show up…’ Kate Moss: ‘So he opened this baggie, I thought it was baby talc, I swear!’ Colin Ferell: ‘Why am I on this list?’ Angelina Jolie: ‘I am with Colin. Who are you fucking people?

How to be an Internet Playa! It was only a matter of time before technology and the human mating dance met face to face, went out for a few drinks and ended up in a Super 8. The result? A cyber-jungle of IM services plus a volley of single, dating and discrete encounters sites. A scene not much different than the de-humanizing meat-markets found in any half lit nightclub, it seemed like things were just going to be business as usual. BUT WAIT! With the invention of that great equalizer known as the Internet, it is finally irrelevant if you are shy or if your friends call you a Picasso come to life! THERE IS MORE! Now not only the ludicrously hot (not you) and extroverted can enjoy the sinful pleasures of straying into the fancy of multiple partners, whether you like it or not! BUT WAIT! ‘How does this remarkable system, undoubtedly created by a sage in the arts of seduction works,’ you ask? Simple, I made it a personal quest to travel the world, hopping from frisky Jamaica, to romantic Paris and to the more laissez-faire city of Amsterdam to collect research. The rest of Europe, Asia, and Africa were also on the itinerary—somewhere— but unfortunately, I got as far as mythical London, Ontario before running out of funds and forced to use a Money-Mart to buy the bus trip home. Either way, after ten minutes of Googling, I was able to extract the elixir to create this revolutionary system. WOW, I AM GETTING A LITTLE EXCITED! Yes, and you should be. TELL ME MORE! As part of your guide into history, you will receive my smouldering ‘How to be an Internet Player’ guide, smack full of essays and ‘how-to’ nuggets. Such as: Chapter I: Don’t offer to buy her a drink, you stupid. Chapter III: Typos as the lubricant of Internet love. Chapter VI (a): Stretching the truth is just another way of saying ‘I like you.’ Chapter VI (b): Instant Messengers are crude forms of communication, so what if you said you are 6’3’? Chapter VI (c): Having a six pack means different things to different people. How to just go with it. Chapter IIX: Ask her which Hollywood star she thinks is hot; then tell her you just happen to be his look-alike! If you have any qualms with this, refer to Chapter II. Chapter X: How come the women on the Lavalife dating website don’t look anything like the ones in the commercials? The mystery explained! Chapter XIII: How to type with only your left hand. Chapter XX: So, she ended up being a man? How to just go with it. THIS IS PURE GOLD… I AM SALIVATING! Yes, but there is more! Aside this soon to-be New York best seller, you will also get my 24\7 email support in case you have any questions. Yes, I will personally read and analyze your concerns and will advise in a true mentor like fashion. Send me your questions and orders to: Sendmeyourmoney@techemail.com IS THERE A CATCH? Are diamonds ever free? Most women have to get married just to get one. But don’t worry; you don’t have to marry me. I will settle for only five easy payments of $19.95! Yes! Benefit from my lack of pride! You will be enjoying the benefits of this brilliant system in no time, whether you like it or not!

Hello Everyone, Yes, among my many interests, I have to say that being a 'Good Samaritan' is more like a part-time job. Do it sometimes, but like most people out there, our day jobs take a good chunk of our possible time doing our Samaritarian calling. However, not that long ago I found this website while doing some research regarding taking some Spanish classes. The name of it is: http://www.meetup.com/ Now, for those who know such social sites like Craigslist.org, you will feel right at home. Basically you can create groups in which you can seek, meet, share ideas, heck even date with people you might share common interests with. And that means anything... Whether that is sports, sci-fi fans, avid readers, sewing or if you are looking to find people with whom you can practice a new language. As you can imagine, that is where I came in the picture. Of course, nothing this good is ever for free. It is free for all members except organizers who have to pay about $20 a month for the right to be organizers. Although Craigslist.org IS FREE, that site's more anonymous nature might scare a lot of people away. Details like posting your own pictures, name, interests, a bit if a self-description and a message board in Meetup.com make most users more credible and trusting than other sites where users are only referred as 'User #113337526.' The current surge of sites like www.lavalife.com easily attest to this. The more details you write about yourself, the more people you meet. So, taking into consideration that I had not done my good deed of the month, I decided to become an organizer. The name of my group? "The 23-35 Social Group." The name really implies to what the main point is. Now I could write about in detail here, but if you live in Toronto, or would like to take a look at how a group in www.meetup.com is normally run, then drop by and do visit. Even better yet, join. So far, the group has been there for about a year now we are about 315 members and growing! http://newlysingle.meetup.com/450/ Oh, and in case you are wondering about what happened with my Spanish class search, well, you can easily find me in the "Toronto Spanish Speaking Group." Just look under "Mauricio." Cheers!

The stress of life can get to up my friends. This is why I say lets take some days off and lets go up north to my cottage and break a few cold ones!

So, here I am. In the the middle of the night. Typing away, basically the first entry of this experiment I have been thinking of doing for quite sometime. I am not expecting much, you see, I have never been a big believer of this thing called blogging. But hell, we all have a few stories to tell, a few jokes to share, a few pics to post. Oh, and where are my manners? I have not even introduced myself. My name is Mauricio, a resident of downtown Toronto and I will be your host in this blog. I have lived in this mighty -- although some would dare call it drab -- city for about 15 years. IF anything the one thing I would not call this city is boring. There is simply too much happening for anyone to dare name it as such. Perhaps it is only my adventures but I am not leaning on it. I think boredom is the word people who do not have too many interests use to call their lives. I mean you can only watch "must see TV" only so many times before you can getting depressed about your existance, doesn't matter how many times you switch channels. Right? I currently work for a major 'Financial Institution,' the capitals are used because they consider themselves very big and for the most part they are, however, they are horrible to work for. I mean, no one ever really works for a major corporation unless they are looking for a stable job. But most stable jobs tend to be just that: Stable. Which is just a romantic way of saying boring. Just like the word 'Royalty' is historically only a romantic word which translates to 'Incest.' But hey, who am I to say the truth? Stability should be a passing thing. Something that we crave, but not fully want always to be. Guess that is one of the best thing I have learned in my tenure in a multinational corporation. Kind of discouraging after all those years of university doesn't it? So, what is this blog for you ask? Well, that is part of the experiment, now you would not want me to well, state everything on my very first blog. Now do you? Taking into consideration that it is totally fine by me if you decide not to return. However if you do, I am sure you will have as much fun reading it as I am writing it. From the Torontonian, Good night for now, Mauricio

You never know who you will meet or at the very least who will pose for your mobile phone!