Ahoy!

Oi, Renuka e Cara! Meus amadas! Nos indomos para Sao Paolo! In my broken Portuguese, that should say, "Hey, Renuka and Cara! My dears! We're going to Sao Paolo!" Got some kick-ass news yesterday--our panel was accepted for a conference in Brazil. It'll be a nice ending to our month-long adventure. Woohoo!! Nos estamos muito legal, mocas!

And onto last night: Marty and I hit The Keg (no one was hurt--sorry, couldn't resist) and sat in their muito swanky bar, had some martinis (try the Clear Peach) and nibblies. It seems that the 30-and-up crowd in Windsor huddles by Riverside on Saturday nights--who knew? A walk down Ouellette around midnight revealed our 19-year-old selves standing in lines outside of the bars-of-the-moment in much too little clothing, clinging to our new-found amours, and hoping that the buzz would stay until we got in. Good times.

Freighters were hangin' out too. Or had they run aground, as Marty insists? We had a rather confusing, martini-induced debate about whether the freighters were dumping water to become more buoyant or not. Two possibilities:

1) When a freighter has water in the hull (and air, obviously) it allows it to displace more of the river water and therefore rides higher.

2) Water in the hull makes a freighter sink and so, yes, they had run aground.

Anyone know the real answer? I won't tell whose idea is whose.
Morons must protect their identities.