Snippets. Random. Undercurrent.
Waking up with erect nipples. I dreamed of David again.
Came into work, David's ex-wife is in trouble. A while ago I'd offered him to find her a better job. He extended the offer and forwarded the e-mail to me. He sounded so terrified.
I knew exactly how it feels to write him an e-mail from the depths of anxiety.
So I may have jumped the gun a little, but if anyone else also happens to be looking for a hardware sales job in Montreal, I've got a list of offers as tall as the average, uh, WTC tower wouldn't be the appropriate word anymore, would it?
The little boy was screaming again this morning.
I'm worried about Peter and Jes and K and Maria and a handful of other people who are even more wonderful a family than the one I have out here. I am desperate to be less helpless in helping.
Today is Elodie's last day. I suggested we take her out for lunch.
Doing a search for Indian restaurants in Paris... Turns out nearly all of them are in the neighbourhood that I'm trying to move into.
I seem to have a knack for that... Sherbrooke's string of North, South, and Bali Indian Restaurants in Montreal looks miniaturized compared to the bombardment if scents and sounds and lettering in the north of the 18e.
We ended up having lunch at a french bistro (La Chope de la Mairie) that's right around the corner from my prospective place, though.
It blows Baton Rouge (the k�b�k steakhouse out of it's heavily greased water)
Arnaud is truly wonderful to work with. And he even has an extra deck of magic cards.
It's a grand thing that I thought to down that bottle of water before literally tilting over into bed last night. Yesterday's whisky hit me harder than I'd expected.
Then again, neither had I expected a girl's night out to watch "Une Hirondelle � Fait le Printemps" to affect me so profoundly, nor did I expect "Hagen Daas" to turn out to be a three-floor leather-seated-mahogany-tabled bar with no beer (Heineken don't count it's the same colour as piss), nor did I expect that when I ordered "single-malt straight" to receive it in an extra-wide tumbler, three fat fingers high.
I guess the waiter was taught to measure with a large ice cube in the glass.
Either way, stumbling up my stairs from Nathalie's mini minivan, I was thrilled to be seeing the world slantways.
Steven? I miss you.