Hooker Harvey's

Sunday morning in my brain always equals a brunch buffet. And so I Googled an all-you-can-eat spectacular in Toronto and it directed me to the feast in the heart of the Distillery district at The Boiler House. Thankfully, my hosts were game to jam down some eats and wander around the old distillery on a crisp (thank you Lord!) morning, my last in Toronto.







A lot of pretentious diners, as well as wait staff, were present. We must have been unsightly because they stuck us in a completely different restaurant altogether, which was attached to The Boiler House at the rear. We sat in the rear. Nice.




This sign was near the bathrooms. I should have sounded my horn.















After I had finally distilled enough of my breakfast from my gut (wha?), we headed to this ghetto little beach out in an industrial area.





Koo. After the beach, we headed back into downtown (SPADINA. SPADINA STATION.) but not before driving past the ‘Hooker Harvey’s’. We drove especially out of the way, just so I could see it. But (sadly?) there were no hookers present.



A friend of Shannon’s said that she thought I would like Kensington, so we elected to see that next. They’d never been either, so in our innocence, we headed into this bohemian village. I found it just as disconcerting as Camden Market in London. Do I seem I’d like that, really? It seemed like all a lot of the shop vendors were on drugs.






I do, however, love street art.









We managed to escape Kensington not high, and not a moment too soon. Shannon loudly proclaimed she never wishes to return, and…yeah. Onwards.

We headed down Queen’s Street to see the Much Music building, the epicenter of my teenage ambitions. I was wholly disappointed. The building was boring, nothing was happening, and the Much sign had long since been taken down. Where do I sign up to dance on Electric Circus?



Last stop on this crunk adventure was the CN Tower. I needed some “Oops I Crapped My Pants” when it came to the glass floor though. Shizz!













With my legs now seizing-up from days of relentless walking, we rode the trolley car back to the carpark, sipping on Chilled Glace all the way. UGH. LOVE CHILLED GLACE.

Dinner was at this cute little Italian place called Paisano’s and then we drank ourselves silly before heading to bed…only to get up at like, 5:30 AM to head over to the airport. I was still…maybe two sheets…but the long flight home was sobering enough. I’ll be heading back there soon enough…providing the city will still have me!