Or, Yeah, yeah, you didn’t ask for my life story. Keep scrolling.
- Mailed some gifts to my little brother back in Winnipeg.
- Got my itinerary and some chocolate in the mail
- Went down to Pulp Fiction with 6 boxes of books
- Waited at Gene while they went through them.
- Always feel odd those rare times I’m at Gene. Never comfortable in any cafe nevermind there; always get it to go. Felt incognito/spy-like…infiltration: Hi, I’m the guy in vans, ray-bans with the oxford shirt and the side part doing artsy stuff (read: tweeting/checking G+ instead of finishing that damn catalog essay) on my macbook. No, no..not that guy over there. The other one.
- Crazy lady started argument with the baristas, it dragged on for 20 minutes where she ended up addressing the whole cafe…she obviously loved having an audience, but damn, it was annoying. Based on my experience working retail and at cafes on Commercial Drive for the last 6+ years I can confidently say that shit wouldn’t have lasted more than 5 minutes before they were told- not asked- to leave. The staff didn’t put their foot down and just let it drag on, letting the lady control the whole situation. Add ambulances and firetrucks passing by and gene’s incredibly awesome strong coffee kicking in while multitasking over her yammering…stressful. Also: not going to get involved. Pointless. Too much on my plate already to want to get into yelling match/get my face scratched. Not getting paid to deal with it, ergo: not fuckin’ worth it.
- The above feels like a bad review on Yelp!. I stil love their coffee.
- Oh, and then Sook-Yin Lee walked in.
- Plus: Made a few bucks from selling the books.
- Minus: I’m a firm believer in engaging with what you own. What’s the point of books being precious if you can’t dog-ear pages and underline stuff and make notes? That said, they couldn’t take some really good ones because of the above, which is totally understandable. Anybody want to buy some Hal Foster, Zizek, and some Moma/Guggenheim catalogs?
- Lugged the books back to a friends’ place, and yardsale plans for the weekend are being hatched.
- Now on the porch taking a quick break and sipping a lovely homebrew stout that a friend brought by earlier before I ship some books. Ahhhhh…
- …oh wait, it’s hitting me like a ton of bricks. Nap time.
- And how was your day?
“Good luck to Margaret Atwood. I don’t even know her. She could walk right by me, I wouldn’t have a clue who she is,” said Mr. Ford, responding to the celebrated author’s remarks on Twitter opposing the proposed library cuts.
“She’s not down here. She’s not dealing with the problem,” he went on to say. “Tell her to go run in the next election and get democratically elected.”” —
Stepping out to put out recycling & finding a sketchy dude going through the ashtray on my porch:
“Oh, hey, uh… do you know the time?”
“Yeah, time to get off my porch, dude. “
- From a boss who offers no sick pay and the minimum legal requirement for holidays. (via clientsfromhell)