Friday, September 17, 2004

Well, if I didn't just have the best day. My friend took me for a spin on his motorcycle as promised. So much fun. When I was a young girl, my dad used to take me out on his bike. I always felt completely safe on the back of a bike and I still do. I may be a bit too fearless. It doesn't seem to matter how fast or winding the ride - I want it faster and twistier. Oh, just so much fun. We didn't go to Da Kine as it was shut down by the nasty Vancouver police. No fun for us. But we consoled ourselves over sangria and tasty enchiladas on the outdoor patio at Havana. It was a perfect sunny autumn day. Bright and clear. A wonderful stolen afternoon.

I turned down sooooooo many invites tonight. I mean, really now. Just ridiculous. First there was dinner with Vera, John and Jarrett and then drinks, movies and happy good times with Lisa, Mark and others and then of course there could have been a New West pubcrawl with Kerry and co. and we mustn't forget the show at the Ironworks and that other show at the Anza club. Did you catch all those different names? Oh you wouldn't know them. Just very important people who would have looooooved my company tonight. I chose to stay in tonight. I'm sure I was missed terribly. Poor souls.

I do think I will hit the town tomorrow night. Going out the last couple of days reminded me that I am still capable of not only having fun, but also I can be fun. I have been spending too much time lately fussing and farting over things I can't control. Being out in the sun today, having a laugh over alcohol-infused fruit, I felt good. After such a nice day I really don't mind staying home alone tonight. It's all about balance - not generally my thing. But, I am learning.

Oh yeah, one more thing. On my walk home, some smarmy fellow in a big fancy black car pulled up alongside me and asked if I went to UBC with him. I told him he was mistaken and then he asked me "where do you come from...originally?" I answered, "Winnipeg." He of course meant my nationality. He explained that I looked hot-blooded, like an Italian woman or someone from some place "hot and passionate." I mumbled a thank-you and shrugged and watched him drive away. I immediately forgot the guy and instead started to obsess over what an asshole I am. Yes, my nationality is "Winnipeg". Funny though. And hot-blooded? I'm a Scot/Celt/Kraut - about as uptight and icy as they come. I don't know what's going on, but over the past few days the pomaded, gold-chained set have been really digging me. I don't get propositioned all that often, but this week the slimeballs have got my number. If PMS induced bloating, tight pants and a snarly expression makes me look "hot-blooded" and appealing, I should consider moving south.

I am going to get a good night's sleep and just takereasy. Tomorrow I disinfect my apartment.
Now, I will read a book until Conan.


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