For September 15th, 2003
Toreena
Firefighter-in-training pub wench Toreena will help you drown your sorrows and your immolation-prone tenement quicker than it takes for a three-legged dalmation to shinny down a greased flagpole. Approaching potential danger from two very different angles has made her one of Toronto's most successful disaster abatement professionals. During last year's hectic brewery riots, for instance, Toreena was hosing down flaming casks of lager with one hand and serving up scrumptious steins of it to raucous, party-mad co-eds in the other.
"Haste makes waste, so enjoy the taste!" Toreena implored a pantsless sophomore known campus-wide for his addiction to ramen noodles and cheap wine.
"Lady, this isn't Wild Irish Rose! This is...beer!" he said with obvious distaste.
"Next time, burn down a winery!" Toreena said, cheerfully spraying the choosy beggar with a full-forced dose of Lake Ontario's finest.
While rarely relying on the martial arts ingrained in her from years of training at a remote Shaolin temple, Toreena assures us that she's fully prepared to break down the motherfuckers with force, if necessary.
"When balance is in disarray, a healthy kick to the jowls of a mealymouthed repeat offender is well in order!" she says, "though a firehose will get the job done, as I've proven time and again."
Toreena finds life's grand design a rewarding mystery to be unfolded and enjoyed, its structures equally rooted in the wisdom found in algebra as well as kung fu and all points between. Oh, and Guinness! Sweet, foamy Guinness, the beckoning, pint-sized ocean of dark delight that entertains her deepest yearnings and flavors the universe with its heavenly depths.
"Also, it tastes pretty darned good!" Proclaims Toreena, proudly displaying her coveted belt buckle in celebration of this, the truest of facts.
When Toreena gets the rare spare moment, she might write a little something in her livejournal. Then again, she might not. It all depends on where the Zen takes her.
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