the sun was like a spotlight

Like that Seinfeld episode and too many british music videos, I think I'll start backwards, except that at the end of my story, nothing exciting will happen. But I think you might enjoy it anyway.

After visiting the McCord Museum with my dad, Button met me at Aux Deux Maries after my scrumptious lunch of guacamole, tomato and grilled cheese sandwich and we went for a walk around the neighbourhood. I bought the Stars CD I had really bought yesterday at Fox Troc (but they hadn't been able to find the CD so they called me back when they found it). I showed her the calendar I bought Sarah for her birthday (Sarah: "are you going to buy me another book about Jews?" Me: "it wasn't about Jews, it was *by* a Jew. It might also have been about Jews." Reality: it was a Leonard Cohen book about Jewish people in Montreal and it ws her present last year.) The calendar is called the B Word and has those now classic 50s style advertisement women with funny lines next to them like "you call me a bitch like it's a bad thing".

For Sarah's birthday a group of ten of us met at Le Petit Italien on Bernard. I had the most wonderful mushroom risotto. They even made it with vegetable broth especially for me. Sweet. Unfortunately, they were unable to prepare an actual Lemon Drop martini so I drank very sour vodka for an appetizer. Meh.

After dinner we headed to Laurier, to Baldwin Barmacie (I guess Barmacy in English). The dating pool, in my analysis, was: younger than me; had money; good-looking; too mainstream to be cool. This whole "everyone is younger than me" thing is really getting on my nerves.

Friday night was supposed to be TV on the Radio but the show was sold out and no way was I going to pay $50 to a scalper for a ticket. I dropped Willow and Mai at the door with their friend Benoit and walked home. Bought some Spring flower bulbs on the way, which I planted just now. They'd better work!

Willow's friend Mai had been to possibly my favourite place on planet Earth: San Pedro de Atacama. Hilariously, she was there during a rain storm. I should explain that the Atacama is the driest desert on Earth. It NEVER rains. It so NEVER rains that people don't build roofs on their houses. She said the adobe walls of her hotel were melting in the downpour. Cracked me up. Willow made us food and told me I was a patron of the arts.

And then I'm walking home with Brian from the Brazilian Girls show at La Tulipe, where we stood mesmerized by Sabrina's shiny seethrough costume. It's whipping cold and dark and time to go to bed, but the memory of Sabrina keeps us cozy and happy.

*I tried to upload a great picture of Brazilian Girls from Osheaga but life is unfair.