So, I think the Latin medical term for what I have now is “Phi-hangoverous Medius.” This is what happens when you don’t leave the bar and continue to have martinis long after you should have stopped. I was actually pretty good. I had one martini an hour, but I was there for 6 hours. My friend and I were on fire because we were complaining about men, mainly because they can be such idiots and we can be such morons for them. So, yeah, the martinis can make it better.
While there I ran into this woman who works with me sometimes. Her name is Karen and she is really cool. She once told me this story about a guy she had broken up with. When she gave him the bad news, he fell to the floor and started rolling around and crying. How does one not laugh at that? Anyway, he was there last night. He’s pretty hot, actually. If only he knew that we nic-named him Roland Atumble.
Yes, we were drinking at the same place I often go to, and yes, I liberated some candy from the evil clutches of the bar owner.
1 pack of fun dip
2 candy necklaces
1 tootsie roll
1 pack of Power Poppers
3 ring pops (watermelon, green apple and cherry)
1 pack of rain-blow gum
2 packs of Popeye candy sticks
1 pack of Smarties.
The bouncer caught me stealing the Smarties as I left and called out to me telling me they were a dollar. So, as I walked away, I turned back and said “Don’t worry about it, baby.” And I blew him a kiss.
So, today is a follow up on yesterday’s post about coveting. Wait wait wait, I’m overstating. It’s not about coveting really.
Last night after my capuera class (no I did NOT wear the white pants – I may not continue classes as the head instructor and I don’t get along so much and since the group had an extra special restructuring, the cost went up but the classes got shorter. Now THAT is value). But, it has a few redeeming qualities, one is called Luciano and the other is called Lucas, and the last one is named Quasie (see, I learned their names).
Anyway, Quasie is a junior instructor for the beginner class. Nice guy. He’s cool, but I never thought much of him. Well, last night after class, I mentioned that I was headed to this roti place down the street. The roti is good and it is owned by my Guyanese peeps.
Now, who doesn’t love Guyanese people? No one, that’s who. And who can say no to a good roti? The answer is obvious. So of course, Quasie came with me.
On the way to the restaurant he tells me that he is also Guyanese. THAT is why he is so good looking! We had a great meal and laughed until 10:00pm. And without prompting he totally read my brain. He said: “Jamaicans do NOT make good curry and roti.” Oh my god, I almost passed out. It’s true! They have no clue what they are doing. They only use curry powder – no jera, no garam masala, no nothing - so all they end up with is cooked yellow chicken. And for so long it’s like Jamaicans had a monopoly on roti in the city. For years non-Caribbean people thought curry and roti was bland, greasy, yellow chicken wrapped in a flat bread (which is fine for those of British descent, as even that would be more spice than they are used to – I have a theory that the Brits spent so much time marauding the globe because they were desperately in search of a decent meal. That’s why they held on to India so tightly. But I digress).
Now, this has the potential to evolve into an all out covet situation. Why? Because, Quasie has a girlfriend. Mind you, I don’t think it will because while I find him attractive – more so now that I know he is so funny – he is not so attractive in that special way that makes me wanna pin him to the wall in a back ally off King St, know what I’m sayin.
Anyway, that’s my story. But, clearly, if I’m gonna covet someone, I’m gonna need to work harder to find an object to place my affection on. Quasie was close. 9 points for Quasie.
On another note, Quasie and I plan to set fruit in a ridiculous amount of rum and sherry for Christmas cake this month. When I bring it home to bake a couple days before Christmas, my mom will probably cry with pride. CRY, I tell you. Then, I will achieve one of my life goals. I will win my family’s annual Christmas Black Cake Contest. In your face, Auntie Una!
So, today and friend of mine and I have exchanged a few e-mails. We’re just bull-shittin’, chattin’ goofin’-off. In the last message he used the word “covet”. Good word, huh? It sounds great - consuming. Say it a few times: “covet” “covet” “covet”. He says that it is malicious to covet (“covet” “covet” “covet” – it actually feels nice in your mouth). I asked him if you have to covet something or someone that is taken or if you covet a single person. If I know him, he’s gonna look it up on an on-line dictionary, like Miriam Webster, and send me the definition or link.
He says that he covets, and I say that I pine. “Pine” doesn’t sound nearly as good as covet. “Pine” sounds really lonely and sad and sharp. Like a ding on a bell that is too high in pitch. But “covet” sounds kinda dirty and not necessarily lonely. Perhaps almost underhanded and a little devious and passionate, like you are burning inside, and expanding like you are willing to stretch your whole body out for the one you covet. Pining is something a martyr would do.
OK, he sent me the link (I know my Vijay):
Well, as of this day – May 11th 2005, I have decided to stop pining and start coveting. It may well not be a healthy choice. In fact I think that neither pining nor coveting are emotions that one should be courting, but since I am only human and have to experience one of them from time to time, I choose covet.
Honestly, say it out loud. It actually feels good “covet” covet” “covet”. It causes actual pleasant physical sensations.
So, last night I went to meet the same friends I met last week at Gypsy Co-op. NT and Drunkie McDrunkard of Vodka Soda fame. Drunkie McDrunkard only had tea, very disappointing, but really who needs to have a bunch of drinks on a Monday night? We went to the Butler’s Pantry and I briefly considered slipping into Gypsy to snatch a pack of Popeye candy sticks as they are my new addiction, but I held back. You can all be very proud of me.
I got home in time to sit on my tail and watch a bit of “Women Tell All” on the Batchelor. Needless to say, I didn’t sit very long for Desperation TV. This Batchelor stuns me because he is about as attractive as Cro-Magnon man’s foot
Anyway, I then decided to check my e-mail and my friend sent me this link: http://www.theglobeandmail.com/servlet/story/RTGAM.20050509.worga0509a/BNStory/International/
Yet another reason why I feel I belong in Brazil.
While on-line I got waylaid by the MSNing of two friends, both of whom live in the some city as me. I guess calling is just too low tech for them. But I have to say, that MSN business is like a casino. You get so wrapped up in what is happening and there is so much stimulation (a little bell goes off when you are writing to one person signaling a message from another person) that next thing you know you have been at it for an hour and a half. As I was MSNing I was also e-mailing another friend of mine. By the time I got to bed it was almost midnight!
Because I got to bed at midnight I slept in a little. Because I slept in a little I left the house late. Because I left the house late I got to the café late. Because I got to the café late I had to walk by the construction site while the guys were on break. Because the guys were on break, they had the time to tell me how they feel about me. Apparently I have a nice smile and they like my shirt.