I Khaaaan't stop making puns about the Mongolian Grill!

Little of consequence to report on, which, as Leah McLaren reminds me in Saturday's Globe, is typical of the bitter, sloppy, immature genre to which I apparently belong. Note to Leah: if you want bloggers to stop snarking on you, don't write crap like that. Or just stop writing altogether. Either would be fine by me.

The last week has involved some funny (both ha-ha and strange) snatches of entertainment, including (but not limited to) an afternoon of watching Olympic curling in a Rogers boardroom with three levels of progressively senior management, all of us feeling like naughty schoolchildren playing hookey, a trip up to North York for Mongolian nosh fit for the eponymous Khan himself, and American Idol.

Oh, American Idol. To paraphrase Jon Stewart (purr) paraphrasing Brokeback Mountain (double purr): "Why can't I quit you?" It's at once the most captivating and nauseating thing I watch on television.

I've got another interesting week lined up. I find it encouraging that I'm having such a wonderful time of things lately, all things considered. Oh, and if you're looking for something lovely to listen to (and look at), Sarah Burton, my ferociously talented housemate and personal troubadour, is playing a show on Tuesday night (Feb 28) at the Smiling Buddha (961 College, at Dovercourt). Fill up on your Shrove Tuesday pancakes and check out some delicious entertainment, won't you?