If you like reggae music, let me hear you Vancouver!! If you like my stripper, let me hear you Vancouver!! If you’re better than Toronto, let me hear you Vancouver!! Now, take off your shirt and wave it in the air!! If you don’t have a shirt, wave a shoe in the air!! Wave a sock in the air and scream, Vancouver!!

I am always amazed by the smile that spreads across my face and the joy in my heart when beautiful movers are joined with remarkable choreographers to create the magic that is dance.

I left work early last Friday to pick up a package at Fed Ex in order to get there within their terribly inconvenient office hours, and arrived home just before 5 p.m. I live in a ground-floor apartment in the West End, whose windows back onto an alley.

The past weekend has finally given me a little bit of hope that summer is approaching, slowly but surely, which means it’s that dreaded time again to drag our white pasty bodies down to West 4th to the rows of surf and swim shops to find a bathing suit that looks half decent in the horrible fluorescent lighting provided.