Winter blues

So, Toronto is conspiring to keep me here. We're in the middle of the third bad snow storm in two weeks. It's the most snow for twenty years, or something. My plane had better not be cancelled tomorrow. However, if it does take off, what better time to get out of here. This winter sucks.

Going to LA for my birthday is going to be a bit sad without my perfect friend, Melissa. If ever there was a trip we should be taking together, this is it. If anyone knows how to party like a rock star, Melissa is that girl. I miss her a lot but she's in Oz and, quite frankly, is having a much better time than we are right now!

But still, I really can't wait to get out of here. It's 75 and sunny in LA - coming back on Saturday is going to be 'interesting' (i.e. miserable). The best we can say is that at least we'll appreciate the summer...

Three more Democrat primaries tonight and Obama is killing Hilary in Virginia, as he has been in all the primaries since 'Super' Tuesday. Come on, America, make the right choice. Make us proud. Please. Do. Not. Screw. This. Up. Huckabee might embarrass McCain in Virginia (he's winning right now). That would be funny until you realise that behind the folksy charm is the mind of a mad man. He doesn't believe in evolution and he could become the leader of the 'free' world. Nice.

Running to the sun

It is ridiculously cold right now. It's a cold you don't ever get in the UK. Yesterday, for example, the ten minute walk back from the video store left my face stinging - it almost felt like it was burnt in an odd way. Hibernation time.

But who cares about that - I'm off to LA! Admittedly, this will be a short trip, just three nights and two whole days. But still, two days of sunshine and 20 plus temperatures is going to seem like heave (albeit a slightly strange Los Angeles heaven). I'm meeting my good friend Paul Gorman and his girlfriend Caz. They're flying back to the UK from Oz, via a stop-off in LA. Paul lived there for a while when he was a journalist at Music Business International (I think that's what is was called), so he knows his way around. Paul is also my party buddy from London - Paul's parties are legendary in west and south-west London.

Paul taught me the martini are like nipples rule. One is not enough, two is perfect, three is one too many. You have to go to three to properly learn this rule...

This LA trip is well timed, because Saturday is my (ahem) 40th birthday. Forty. Cripes. So, what better way of celebrating this minor milestone than by partying like a rock star - two nights in LA then back to Toronto for a long weekend of debauchery (or hiding from the ice with a bottle of wine and whatever duty free I bring back. And maybe a little poker...). 

Enough for now. Next time I will have tales of Hollywood to impart. Hold on Britney, I'm on my way!!