i thought tomorrow was supposed to be crappy, not today. i woke up and wanted to remain entirely still and not leave my rather comfy if not a bit coffin-like single bed, tucked under the slanted wall-to-roof of my new room. instead i got up (i had to pee). the coffee tasted bad. nothing good for breakfast. moan moan gripe gripe. once at work, i managed to feel like a bad friend, and to feel bad about friends who are no longer friends. Sarah said, I am going to S’bucks, want anything? I said, oh yes please, thinking that a venti London Fog would be just perfect for my rat’s ass mood. sip one = delicious. sip two = calming. then the phone rang and it was for me. i hate phone calls. (Fran Lebowitz: Remember that as a teenager you are in the last stage of your life when you will be happy to hear the phone is for you.) it was a friend of my uncle’s who has written nine novels (working on tenth) and who submitted them to me about a month ago. I was under the impression, after receving an email from his wife saying one of his novels was to be published by a press in Ottawa, that he was no longer looking to have ecw publish his work. alas alack i was wrong. and so we are having a chat, well he’s doing 99.9% of the talking and i am listening but also (here’s the mistake) trying to do other things at the same time. that’s when I knock over my jumbo-sized (that’s venti, for those who speak S’Bucks) piping hot super sugary tea all over my half-edited manuscript, keyboard, mouse, lap, and everything else. hard to get off the phone “so your uncle tells me…” “no really i just spilt a LOT of tea EVERYWHERE. bye.” i know this is not a big deal and nothing was totally absolutely ruined but it was one of those things on one of those days where it took all of my steely will not to just sit down and cry. and Michael was very helpful with the clean-up and Jack was very helpful with the jokes.
so now i’m on the streetcar home. yes, type type type on the streetcar. will change out of my sticky pants (oooh err) and not feel like a monkey’s ass at the NOW toronto guide launch. which starts at 6 at the now lounge, if yer interested.
in the previews for that utterly uninteresting Robin Williams becomes president movie, why are the jokes all about Clinton and none about Bush? bollocks, that is.
oh yes, there is very very extra good with double snaps news — rumour has it that the most beautiful building currently being denigrated as a nasty strip club (Jilly’s at the corner of Queen & Broadview) has been bought by the fellows that brought us the revitalization of the Gladstone and Drake and will one day soon, follow suit. please oh jesus let it be true. not that i like turning poor neighbourhoods into too-posh-condo-drone land but taking down those countless jumbo awful mouth-slightly-open hussy in lingerie photos from the facade of the building will likely help humankind in the long run. and who knows maybe things will swing more gladstone and less drake.
and the other good thing is i now know what amanda’s up to in sweden & i’ll make a jazzy link to her myspace page over yonder in the links section. and so in honour of old friendships, vampires, suburban homes, 80s fashion, and bad acting: