Prattle on
Friday, May 27, 2005
So, I came in about an hour late for work today. I have to say it was pretty sweet. Standing outside the building was this deadly attractive guy who I ended up talking to. More like I couldn’t stop my lips from moving nor could I stop squeezing out sound so I stumbled over several sentences when really all that was required was “The guy from the restaurant wont be here until 11.” Never mind that he already knew this fact, and was happily reading dime store trash while basking in sunlight on our Adelaide St. curb. The cute boy is actually a new waiter, this is just some of the unnecessary information I gleaned while making an ass of myself. Picture me trying to negotiate my purse, coffee cup and tongue while bent over looking for the right key then attempting to un-luck the door. I’m like a gazelle.

This guy was surprisingly attractive. Well, it is a surprise that he was attractive to me. Generally I am not into his look. He is white haired blonde – I am talking almost Village of the Damned blond. But I guess there was something about him standing in the sunlight and his total indifference to my blather. By the end of my moronic monologue he looked at me in the only appropriate manner – like I WAS a moron, and I practically ran down the stairs into my office.

It’s a good think embarrassing situations don’t bother me. I bounce back easily as long as the embarrassment doesn’t involve bodily fluids.

Anyway, the weekend is here – prepare!
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
So, I am thinking about taking a trip next February. I’m thinking the last week of February and the first two weeks of March. I will most likely travel alone. So, that means that I will go with G.A.P. or Trek or something. It’s my desire to go to Turkey and Syria. I hear the call of Istanbul and Damascus. After some preliminary research I see that there are not a lot of trips to these areas in February and March. Plus, heat is a must and the strange Belgian intern says that it is only about 10 degrees in Turkey in February. This leaves South East Asia. Sounds great, but it would cost a lot of haul my tail out there. Also, I could spend some time in Central America but my urge to smash the Spanish speaking patchouli soaked Canadian hippies from Vancouver who sip mate while wearing native Central American woven sweaters and bushy beards is just too risky. What’s a girl to do? People give me some suggestions.

Also, if you are a single handsome man reading this and you will have some time to spare next February and March you should come with me. Think of the fun we could have.
Tuesday, May 24, 2005
So, it has become clear to me that I can’t function without all my bras with me at all times. Well, not at all times, but I think I need to have all my bras with me wherever I am staying. I went to Montreal this weekend and when I opened my little suitcase at my friend’s place I realized that I brought with me all the bars in my current bra rotation. All of them. Several of them were totally un-wearable with the shirts I had brought with me. Still, in the suitcase they went and I didn’t even think about it. As I sat on my friend’s bed clutching no less than nine bras, half of which were of the pink frilly lace or transparent variety, it was clear: I have a problem.

I also realized that if I were to compare my body to our country, my hair would be Quebec. There are a few reasons why I feel this way. One is the fact that my only wash my hair once a week or so. However, the main reason is that my hair, like Quebec, while a part of a whole being lives by it’s own rules, always looks like a party, and gets pissed off easily. I have a massive head of hair that often makes it’s own decisions. Since my body includes my hair, I have to make it happy by spending ridiculous amounts of money, time and energy on it’s maintenance. For years I would go to the hair dresser and spend loads of money straightening it only to head back to the salon for several “touch-ups,” so that my hair would look a certain way. It demanded constant attention, but was never happy. Finally, I abandoned the straight perm and while my hair is happier it is still a diva. And a diva is ALWAYS high-maintenance.
Monday, May 23, 2005

So, I’m back from Montreal and I gotta say, the weather sucked. It was cold and rainy the whole weekend while Toronto enjoyed clear skies and warm temperatures. I’m just real happy that the storm that made Montreal miserable has followed me to Toronto and we will now suffer the wrath of a storm front that had to spend the weekend in Montreal.

Anyway, I really feel that Montreal’s reputation proceeds it to a ridiculous degree. The stereotype of Montreal is that it if filled with beautiful men and women. I have to say I think that’s bull-shit. I think that every city is filled with beautiful men and women, but you have to be a traveller to notice it. However, in Montreal English Canadians are notorious for their drunken debauchery. That means that us English are easy for anyone. So chances are, if a drunk Torontonian guy is in La Belle Ville and picks up some hot chick and does her on Mount Royal, he’ll go home and tell his buddies that Montreal is full of hot easy women. Meanwhile that chick only looked hot through the beer goggles and she is actually from Richmond Hill.

While walking along St. Laurent, a group of mildly intoxicated boys decided to walk along side us and decided that I was a bit of a challenge mainly because I am sarcastic and somewhat bitchy. They were very young and from New Jersey so I asked if they were old enough to drink in the Garden State. In order to prove how old he was, one of them showed me his Princeton student card. HA! The guy showed me his student card. So I laughed at him.

Montreal was good.

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