This evening I eavesdropped on a conversation where the people complained about the CBC. I wore a CBC shirt, so I took it personally. Who complains about CBC Radio? Psychos, I swear.
Rachel is rad. Seriously, the best girl friend ever. She humours my ridiculous tangents and ignores the fact that I both cut her off and forget what I was saying more often than not. And I am easily distracted by the World Championship of Poker.
We went to some Irish Snug on Granville that got stupidly busy by 10:30pm. The snakebites couldn't disguise the arm that kept hitting me in the back while I sat in my chair, a gesture that implied I was no longer welcome post-10pm. They played "I Wanna Be Sedated" and the snakebites worked their magic to make it so.
The suggestion of a trip to the Bosman seemed natural and it pained me slightly to wait to order, get, and pay for a drink before collecting the bathroom key. Someone refused to flush both times I visited, and I was shocked by the extreme yellowness that awaited me in the pot. Anyone with pee that bright should not be at a motor inn bar, regardless of it's position within Vancouver. It was there that the CBC was bitch-slapped.
Some guy at the bar kept looking at me. He wore a white button-down shirt and this seemed to be an odd situation. I imagined that he thought of ways to butcher me and I didn't have a problem leaving alone.
While on the bus homeward, the 12-year-old bus driver turned on Pender instead of Cordova. Nervous, I slurred a question at the girl ahead of me. "Don't worry," she cooed. "This is the Night Bus. You'll get where you need to go." Apparently the Night Bus starts at midnight. That seems wrong. I, however, went along with it, reading my smutty book about fucking around Washington, DC.
On one stretch of sidewalk near my house, I always think about what I will do when I get attacked there. It isn't dark or scary, but I assume my previous stalker will see and accost me one day, and I want to be prepared for the aftermath.
This is likely why I don't go out to drink very often. Drinking alone at home usually results in zero stories, except for the crying.
Currently reading :
The Washingtonienne: A Novel
By Jessica Cutler
Release date: 01 June, 2006
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