Perfect weather for the leather jacket. But when I put it on this morning, I felt strange. Then I remembered. I wore it the last time you came back. Not like I'll be there when you come back today, but I opted for the trenchcoat instead.
Caught the Cinematheque Ontario screening of Les Demoiselles de Rochefort this evening. I had asked the boss earlier what he thought of the film and all he could tell me was "If you like French films, then you might like this." I could sense from his tone that he didn't love it.
The house was packed. I had no idea what I was in for. I'd scanned the blurb and caught a few names that I'd recognized (Catherine Deneuve, Jacques Perrin, Gene Kelly, Agnes Varda) and that was enough for me.
What a treat! It starred Deneuve and Françoise Dorléac (sisters in real life), as the Garnier twins, who plan on ditching their hometown of Rochefort for what must be a better life in Paris. The movie was perfect brainless fun packed with eye candy -- a musical about finding love where you least expect it. Silly, colourful, every other dialogue in song and dance -- and so many pretty HATS! Sad story behind this film: her film career cut short at the age of 25, Dorléac died in a car accident shortly after this film was released in 1967. I think I might get the soundtrack.
The most noticeable difference between the baristas at Starbucks and those at Timothy's is that while the former are always so darn chipper, the latter really don't give a fuck about you and aren't afraid to show it.
Ordered a lactose-free Thé au Lait at Timothy's this morning -- basically a tea bag steeped in steamed milk. My barista looked so incredibly sullen. Now, I am one who usually hates small talk -- and yet I tred to engage her in conversation as she made my drink because I saw this sourpuss as a good deed challenge. The goal was to make her grin. Stupid and pointless, I know.
"Good morning!"
She squirts some syrup in the cup. Doesn't look up at me.
"So what's that you just squirted in my cup?"
"It's just vanilla." This woman is adverse to making eye contact with anyone -- including her boss.
"Oooooh. Is that the secret ingredient?" Yes, I know it sounded retarded, but sometimes you say anything just to get them to say something.
"Read the sign. It says 'with vanilla' -- so no, it's no big secret." She never looks up.
"Lovely. You have yourself a wonderful day!" Secretly I'm hoping she may have scalded her scowl with steam.
Tonight, we're going up to the Bathurst Bowlerama (second time this month!) for a colleague's birthday. I bought her some red freesia and red anemones this morning. Flowers, always a lovely thing to give -- never carnations or roses, of course. Don't get me started on baby's breath ;) The white freesia and tulips I bought on Sunday look so pretty in our sunny dining room!
For a few years, I had this ultimate fantasy, to end up in San Francisco where I'd make a living as a florist, and make a life and babies with a trombone player. I don't fantasize about musicians anymore. But a flower shoppe would still be kind of nice, I think. I'd call the store Ladybug.
I used to date a boy who worked for a bank, in an office tower. We had been official, but fell into this one-sided casual thing, where he flirted and cruised around, kept his options open, while I moved back to Toronto just to be closer, to pine for him, to wait for him to love me more. On his birthday, I thought it was a nice gesture to send him a bouquet of lilies at work. He called to thank me, but I could tell from his tone that he was a little embarrassed -- afraid it would make him appear less virile in front of the cute receptionist. He was a bit of a shit anyway.
If I bowl over 61 tonight, I just might do the Dance of Joy.
"What's your soup today?" "Avocado Chicken" "Avocado eh? Is it a cold soup?" "Nope." "I find that warm/heated avocado has that aftertaste of semen. Is the soup any good?" "It's actually quite nice. More chicken than avocado. I guess I should rename it so people aren't misled." "Or hopeful." "Chicken Avocado soup. With cilantro." "Great. I'll take it."
Attended what had to be my favourite concert this year. Would have met up with a friend had he not forgotten to check the date on his ticket.
In attempt to clarify my intentions, emailed an old friend from high school to tell him I had no desire to get into his pants. No response. Perhaps I think too much.
Had dinner with two writers, where I a) in their presence, felt rather unaccomplished and b) felt like a hippo sitting beside the 80lb poet.
Ordered strawberry crepes for breakfast. Too jammy, too sweet. Never again.
Took in a matinee performance of Past Perfect at the Tarragon with M & D. Very well-acted. The main character was an abrasive young woman who screeched and smoked -- parts of her reminded me of me on my worst days as a human being, parts of her reminded me of the cokehead I used to live with.
Opted for the Creme Caramel Lamb Burger (big yummy messy pile of caramelized onions, mushrooms and BBQ sauce) at the Yellow Griffin Pub, where they have over 35 varieties of burger toppings. I'm thinking I'll try the Skinny Dipper next time (crunchy peanut butter and jam on meat -- why didn't I think of that before?) I will also remember to bring a toothpick or dental floss with me.
Brunch shift was practically stress-free. Level of pit moisture: Arid.
Improv night at Oasis: God bless bowel humour. The boy who stole speaker knobs also reminded me of me.
This morning, Timmy's rim said "Sorry, try again!"
"Here. Stand like this with your knees touching." He stands with his heels touching, toes turned out.
I do so, but shyly. It's hard not to be self-conscious around such physically graceful and amazing specimens.
"You've got a great facility for pointe work."
"Uh, a lot of help that's going to do me now."
"Bah, who wants to do ballet anyway? It's so regimented."
That's always been a what if for me. What if I'd taken ballet lessons, instead of piano? I may not have ended up pursuing a career as a professional dancer, but I'm sure the training would have made an improvement to my motor skills and saved me from walking into so many walls/poles/doors/tables/people as a child/teen/now. A vast improvement.
J-Lo was kind enough to introduce me to his herbalist on Dundas this morning. Upon entering, I was greeted by the comforting smells you'd only find in a Chinese medicine shop. The place was dark and dusty. An old lady with gold teeth waited patiently for the boys behind the counter to pound out her order of herbs.
"My friend's here to see your grandfather."
"Have a seat at the back."
I sit across from an old man with a surprisingly smooth face, despite his age. His grandson asks me to hold my wrists out. The herbalist presses his fingers against them and asks me what my problem is, while his grandson translates from English to Cantonese, Cantonese to English.
"Well, I have trouble going. The pooping -- it isn't regular. And I'm going through menopause but I don't want to take the hormones my doctor has prescribed."
Within seconds, the old man tells me what's wrong. My liver is overheated.
"Do you eat a lot of unhealthy foods? A lot of beef? Eggs?"
I shake my head. What constitutes as a lot anyway?
I leave the store with three bottles of pills, all labelled in Chinese. Take six of these with breakfast. Take six of these for lunch. Take eight of these before you go to bed.
For lunch, I treat myself to a platter of hot dogs wieners and eggs on rice, a delicious bo lo yau and a mug of HK-style milk tea. And six of them yellow pills, of course.
Must be getting sick. Feeling ever so lethargic. More so than usual. Stayed in both Friday and Saturday night. Clive Owen came in for brunch and I barely got excited. Scruff becomes him. Perogie-making was the definite highlight, but all that doughy cheesey goodness can make a girl sluggish in the morning. Maybe I'll go chew on some turkey neck.
nyckillaghatz: who you be? andromache_is_my_cat: some dude nyckillaghatz: nice choice of an avatar then andromache_is_my_cat: thanks nyckillaghatz: you must be a real feminine 'dude' andromache_is_my_cat: sure nyckillaghatz: lol where in toronto you from? andromache_is_my_cat: you mean where in toronto do i live? nyckillaghatz: sorry dog..i from da ghetto of scaboro, styll andromache_is_my_cat: oh. you're not in nyc? nyckillaghatz: nah..i got killa ghatz tho andromache_is_my_cat: ghatz? nyckillaghatz: gats andromache_is_my_cat: cats?i have two cats -- one is annie. she is a calico -- the other is brie. she's mostly black. but with a white belly. she's so cute! but fat nyckillaghatz: calico..ahh..sounds mad familiar andromache_is_my_cat: and her paws are teeny tiny. so cute ^_^ nyckillaghatz: oh yeah/ my gats are kinda fat too... only they spit metal things... can your cats do that? andromache_is_my_cat: no. they usually cough up hairballs. no metal nyckillaghatz: oh ok..oh and they have no emotions or nuttin like that...only if ya touch a soft spot..they get angry and start spittin' dem metal tings andromache_is_my_cat: maybe you should take your cats to the vet nyckillaghatz: i would but the vet would call the cops on me andromache_is_my_cat: oh. because you abuse your pets? nyckillaghatz: nah..they..they abuse people tho..kill em sometimes andromache_is_my_cat: well that's no fun nyckillaghatz: trust me..i don't play games. andromache_is_my_cat: sure nyckillaghatz: hahaha..you probably scurred witless right now andromache_is_my_cat: scurred witless? nyckillaghatz: scared as hell andromache_is_my_cat: uh. no. why would i be? nyckillaghatz: cause my gats spit that fiyah... andromache_is_my_cat: fiyah? nyckillaghatz: lol andromache_is_my_cat: i thought they spit metal things nyckillaghatz: well...when it spits metal things..flame flickers..therefore fiyah andromache_is_my_cat: fire? nyckillaghatz: jee-uh andromache_is_my_cat: jesus?jihad?i don't get it nyckillaghatz: jee-uh is yes.jeeez..yer out of it. maybe you should watch boyz in the hood or somethin' like that andromache_is_my_cat: is that a show?because i don't have cable andromache_is_my_cat: i just bought the first season of Grey's Anatomy. it's soooooo good! nyckillaghatz: is that a show fer crackas? andromache_is_my_cat: do you like medical drama? nyckillaghatz: well..i bring medical drama if someone insults me lol andromache_is_my_cat: really?gee, you're pretty sensitive nyckillaghatz: sure..send kids to icu nyckillaghatz: lol ya think?i prefer heartless...cold-blooded..naw mean andromache_is_my_cat: sounds more cowardly to me. it's not so hard being nice :) nyckillaghatz: it takes steel ballz to twist caps and put someone's brain on they shoes.. andromache_is_my_cat: you talk funny -- or do you only type funny? nyckillaghatz: yo..they made me talk funny andromache_is_my_cat: your steel ballz? nyckillaghatz: i don't talk like the devil andromache_is_my_cat: i've never met the devil nyckillaghatz: lol..ya pics are full-of-em andromache_is_my_cat: which pics? nyckillaghatz: pics with whiteys.. andromache_is_my_cat: ? nyckillaghatz: lol. nothing..yer out of it andromache_is_my_cat: you sure have a kooky sense of humour! ^_^ nyckillaghatz: lol. thanks ...i like ur sarcasm too nyckillaghatz: so where in t dot do u live andromache_is_my_cat: downtown. college and dufferin nyckillaghatz: seeen..ok andromache_is_my_cat: it's a really pretty neighbourhood. lots of trees nyckillaghatz: parkdale area..that's the block andromache_is_my_cat: i'm just northeast of parkdale. some great brunch places in that area nyckillaghatz: oh word nyckillaghatz: mad heat in parkdale..so many custees andromache_is_my_cat: it's not so hot right now. it's -14 nyckillaghatz: the custees make it hot.. andromache_is_my_cat: i don't know what that is nyckillaghatz:customers.. andromache_is_my_cat: brunch customers? nyckillaghatz: more like pharmaceutical.. andromache_is_my_cat: how do they affect the weather? nyckillaghatz: lol!!!
Caught the Cinematheque Ontario screening of Les Demoiselles de Rochefort this evening. I had asked the boss earlier what he thought of the film and all he could tell me was "If you like French films, then you might like this." I could sense from his tone that he didn't love it.
nyckillaghatz: who you be?