 |
|
|
Yesterday, she and I went to breakfast at my favourite breaskfast joint, La Petite Marche. Then we went for a walk down St-Denis Street to do some window shopping. We stopped into one of the finer games/gaming/hobby stores in the city, Le Valet d'Coeur (The Jack of Hearts), then looked at some medieval clothes and accessories at Excalibor. It was there that she got the news that she has found a job! She starts Tuesday. I think it is in customer service. I got a call from an old friend (who happens to be friend of Jamie) at 4:30 yesterday afternoon, just as she was leaving to go see her daughter for the weekend. He was in town with a bunch of friends for the Radiohead concert on Ile Ste-H�l�ne. It turns out that because of the Toronto blackout, one of his buddies couldn't go, so they had an extra ticket and gave it to me. Pretty fucking good, I must say. So I met them at The Old Dublin for a pint, then we made our way to the park. The reason why I don't go to many of these outdoor events (aside from the fact that I am fairly cheap when it comes to concerts) is that I can't stand the people running the events. They are a bunch of stuck-up power-hungry assholes. At the Jean-Drapeau metro station, there is the main exit and the emergency exit. No one was allowed to use the main exit, so we had to go to the back for the emergency exit. The lineup was almost 3 kilometres long, and we ended up back at the main entrance. They made us walk in a big circle when they could have just moved the entrance a little and had more people taking tickets. Chris and his girlfriend were supposed to pick up their tickets at the venue. But instead of being able to pick up their tickets and then join us in line like they do every other concert, they were made to wait in line, and then pick up their tickets right at the entrance (not in a separate place, which might make a little sense if only for crowd control). When we finally got to the entrance, the rest of us showed our tickets, but the happy couple had to go somewhere else to get their tickets. Then they were adamantly and almost forcefully told to go TO THE BACK OF THE FUCKING LINE. Three kilometres! Luckily, a bouncer took pity on them and called the other guy some kind of asshole and allowed them to go into the line near the end. Right before Radiohead started, I ran into an old acquaintance from McGill, Rebecca. She is the first bisexual person I ever met, or at least the first that told me she was. She has not changed in almost nine years. Six-foot-one, about 170 pounds and long blond hair almost down to her waist. It was good to see her. And during the concert, I met a couple of 21-year-old girls who made me wish I were a 21-year-old with the confidence of a 28-year-old. Unfortunately I had to piss like crazy. I met them in the pissing line. I had to go so badly that they let me ahead of them. I have the bladder of a four-year-old. Question: if Radiohead is against corporate power and blah-blah-blah, why were their shirts $40 each and the beer $7.50 a pint for fucking Molson Dry? The concert was very good, even though my feet were killing me and I didn't know any of the songs on the new album. They played a few songs from Kid A, which is the only album I still own (the others were destroyed or stolen). The bad: they didn't play anything from Pablo Honey or The Bends. The good: they played Everything In Its Right Place and Karma Police. And seeing all the couples swaying back and forth during that song, I wanted her there with me. Oh well, I'll see her tomorrow.  The look: my feet were very very tired The feel: The taste: ________________________ |
The Latest
|