03/28/2004 - 04/04/2004
Have you been to the Eaton Centre recently? I went last week for an preliminary interview at Indigo Bookstore (more on that later). I arrived at the mall early so I spent 30 minutes just wandering round.
All of a sudden I saw the most horrifying, dumbfounding sight. A grown man, as tall as me plus about 50 lbs, he was wearing a pink sweat shirt and pink tracck pants. His gross highlighted hair was short pigtails. He was stubbly and looked like he'd been hit by a truck. I think he was clutching a pink or purple rhinestone studded handbag.
Have you seen this man before? At first I thought I was having an animal cracker induced hallucination, but everyone around me also seemed to see him and do a train-wreck-worthy double take.
Then today, I was back at the Eaton Centre for a second interview at Indigo. This time he got on the escalator right in front of me, so I could tell that this was not some horrible hallucination. People going in the opposite direction on the escalator stopped to point with gaping mouths. I tried not to burst out laughing.
The interviews at Indigo went well. The first was a group interview, but it was casual, relaxed and very comfortable. I went back today and spoke to the store manager. It seemed like he had already decided to hire me based on the positive response he had recieved from the first interview. I could start as early as next week and work through to January.
Over the weekend my dad, sister and I were watching some commedian on Just for Laughs The guy made some lame joke about pot in brownies and said "Anyone who didn't get that joke should leave the building right now". My dad turned to Nat and I and said "See, back in the 60's and 70's people used to put marjuana in brownies". We just looked at each other and burst out laughing. I'm not sure why he thought he had to explain that to us. I told him that Teevee has inundated us with pot jokes and every sitcom in the last decade has made at least one joke about pot brownies, if not an entire episode storyline. I'm sure that that my sister and I have been exposed to more pot than he had been when he was 17 and 21 years old.
I had a very bile-spewing post planned about my screw-up over my co-op's wine tour (short version: I fucked up, others also fucked up, President went behind my back and cut my balls off). But I managed to get the wine tour replaced by a wine and a cheese. Attendence wasn't as great as I thought it would be but that just meant there were 9 of us to finish up 11 bottles of wine. Christ, was it awesome. The cheese was top notch (we had this awesome horseraddish chedder and jalapeno havarti) and the wines were great. Of particular note: The South African UBUNTU SHIRAZ. Good smooth taste, 14%, $11 and a great looking bottle. What more can you ask for? A lot of people went crazy over the L.A. CETTO PETITE SIRAH, which was under $10 and very fruity. I thought it tasted too much of grapefruit but they say I'm wrong. Still, check both of them out.
In another PBF moment I'd like to say I love The Mariner's Revenge. It's really great.
Depressing News Stories Abusing your spouse just got a little easier, thanks to gay marriage bans. But for abusing your child, you can send them to The. Worst. School. Ever.
I went to bed at 2:30 and spent all night dreaming that my outline for my screenplay that I submitted today was no good. I woke up several times in the night, sweating, lying in awkward position with the sheets all twisted around. I'd set my alarm glock for 9:30 am so I could way cup and work s'more on the outline.
I woke up at 7:00, at 8:00, then woke up and it was bright bright out and no alarm glock muzak! 11:30. Oh noes. A brief look over the outline was afforded and I realized it wunt as bad as my nasty dreams had told me.
In class today we went over the intro of Fargo. Quite impressive. All those "yah"s from William H. Macy are written in, all right. I got the original screamplay from the library at Yerk.
I got this assignment in my acting 'n' directing class where we sneak up on pople on the TTC and record all the words they say without tellin' 'em. Then we get to play those people in class and say their words. Sneakretspylarinous!
I had a really strange dream last night.
For some reason I stopped to eat in some small 905 area town. I went into a diner and was confronted by a gang of hoodlums who liked to make sport of harassing out-of-towners. I decided to leave, but they followed me back to the van so I turned around and punched the leader in the nose, giving me enough time to get in the van and lock the door. They tried to box me in by driving a car to block my escape route, so I had to accelerate backwards. I looked in my rearview mirror and saw their leader clutching his broken nose, terrified.
Then I woke up and my heart was beating very quickly. I fell back to sleep and resumed the dream.
This was the comedic interlude part. Sitting in the diner with the meathead leader's girlfriend, when in came a gang of big black ladies wearring matching gold and purple satin jackets. One of them sat down beside me andd explained why she was like a macadamia nut. A dispute broke out in the diner and I introduced them to the toronto version of a duel.
Two of the black women with their ample posteriors were to stand facing a wall and the two guys who had been arguing would line up in their cars, one behind each woman. The guys applied yellow paint to the front bumpers of the cars and had to play a weird game of chicken by driving towards to backside and stopping without geting paint on the women's pants. I don't know if there was a winner.
When we returned to the diner I found that the goons had torn the driver's seat out of my car.