A Place Called Home.

I should really have a section on this blog entitled “Homebody” because, well, I love staying at home. Try as I might, the bar scene and I don’t get to spend that much time together. Maybe it’s because I work in a bar, maybe it’s because that $50 I’ll spend on a bar tab will net me a lot of groceries at No Frills (look Mum, I’m a full blown adult now!) or maybe it’s because I just enjoy home better. I can pile my hair up on top of my head, put on my glasses and throw on my favourite plaid shirt (apparently I’m a homebody hipster) and relax. Crack open a Strongbow or pour myself a glass of wine. Curl up with a good book or watch a movie with the roommate. As much as going out is fun, nothing beats the comfort level of being at home. The washroom’s right there, the drinks are cheap (and strong) and the company is fantastic.
Speaking of drinks, I make a mean cocktail, so next time you’re in the neighbourhood, come by and I’ll make you something delicious. I have to go though, I have a couch and a bad comedy calling my name, not to mention some bourbon punch.