On Stuff

On drinking:

Remember how I asked about your hangover yesterday? I just found an empty mickey of Smirnoff in my elevator. It's Tuesday! I guess it's after midday and I know in some circles that signals cocktail hour(s) has begun...but an office building, on a Tuesday, at lunch time?

I guess someone was really hanging for that last lemon drop, or vodka martini*, or just a good, old fashioned swig or was it hair of the dog? I'm torn between judgement and thinking c'est la vie.

My music teacher in Eastern Canada used to keep a bottle of the clear stuff in her piano and would pour herself a glass every now and then. My 7 year old self assumed it was water, until my mother told me a few years ago that Mrs. Piano was a drunk. I'm so crushed. Mrs. Piano taught me to play the ukelele, a skill that hasn't yet been useful, but I carry the hope that one day I will be kidnapped by nomads and have to play music to be emancipated. I guess what I'm awkardly trying to say is that when I see vodka bottles now, I associate it with ukelele's, and that, land of blog, is not a bad thing.

*I had my first extra dirty gin martini on Friday. I gotta say, I don't care for gin. Gin can go back to the cotton* because neither of you are welcome in my mouth.

*"according to whom?"!

On being clumsy:

I have a dream. I'm flowing elegantly across a room, head up, barely skimming the surface of the floor, people commenting on my gracefulness, me doing the Queen wave.

And then, reality, the jerk: Last week, due to laziness, I went to the A&W across the road. What does a vegetarian order in A&W? French fries. I was too lazy to get some real food, and it was raining and it was cold, so I didn't want to be outside for a prolonged period of time.

I was instantly punished for my laziness, I assure you. I mentioned the rain, right? (That's what it does in Vancouver. It rains. For roughly 14 months a year). You know what rain does? It makes wet foot prints on floors. You know what happens to those foot prints? They get mopped up. You know what happ....whatever. I'll just tell you. I walked into that so-called-restaurant, took two steps and my feet just came out from under me, Looney Tunes style. Or, rather, a bad sitcom fall.

I didn't realise it then, being soooo embarrassed, but I had hit my thigh on a stool on the way down, and have bruised my body badly. The last time I had a bruise this bad was when I went skiing and fell on a rock. This is worse. I expect to fall when I ski, I don't expect to skid all over the place, all crazy legs, when I order greasy food. Serves me right, I guess. Or wrong, because in spite of entertaining the counter staff, I had to pay in full for my fries and rootbeer and I didn't even get a free lollypop. That will teach me to order a salad next time.

And that's my stock of mediocrity depleted for the day (kinda like the vodka bottle is now empty). Hi, my name is Anna...I'll have to paper the lift with AA fliers! Anyway, must run.

As Porky would say: Th.th.th.that's All Folks.

-Anna